"I want to go back to San Juan..."

Feb. 3, 2008
San Juan Airport, Puerto Rico


We were pretty sad to pack up and leave yesterday. We have been here for so long that we were starting to develop a real 'Swiss Family Robinson' mentality as well as campsite(!), especially with the shower stall the boys had assembled. The showers were so hit-and-miss (and cold!) that we began filling old gallon milk-jugs with water, and setting them in the sun to warm first thing in the morning. We'd then lean over our basin and use the warm water to wash first our hair, and then sponge bath the rest... but the only draw-back for me was that people would often walk up from the beach and past our campsite as I was trying to wash out the sand stuck in my bikini! My indomitable Boy Scouts solved this problem by rigging up a little shower stall, enclosed on two sides with palm fronds woven between trees, and on the other two with hanging towels or blankets. It even had a plywood floor to keep our feet clean as we "showered", and a driftwood soap holder! I was so delighted with this that I realised it was time to leave -- I was starting to lose all perspective!


And as happy as our time here has been, we had been starting to get restless and realised that it was time to be moving on. Part of our delay in Puerto Rico has sprung from troubles happening with our work at home, and it's hard to make plans when things are in limbo and we may have to go back to rescue our studios sooner that we had planned or hoped. But we could only delay for so long -- we've decided to push on and be proactive in making plans.

Although San Juan and Puerto Rico's mainland weren't highly appealing for us, we booked a nice hotel in old San Juan last night, and had a few hours this morning to explore the old city. We took a tram ride around "Old San Juan", which is like a storybook city with pastel-coloured buildings and cobbled streets. It is dominated by a couple of big defensive forts and castles. I had not realised that Puerto Rico was actually Columbus' destination when he came to the New World for the second time. On his first trip he had landed in the Domincan Republic and returned to Spain with a native princess, who told him that the real riches were to be found on the next island: what is now Puerto Rico. He may not have found abundant riches, but Puerto Rico became the gateway to the Caribbean, and essentially whoever controlled San Juan's harbour wielded much power. Spain quickly realised the importance of this, and built El Morro, a huge castle-style fortification on the edge of the harbour, and then smaller forts all around. With the cross-fire between El Morro and the other forts, it was impossible to enter the harbour without permission. The Spanish held control for centuries, except for a small victory by the English who won the battle but then all succumbed to dysentery. Eventually the Americans bought control of Puerto Rico, and El Morro was still in use by them as a watch-post during WWII.


The kids were happy to be in a castle once more, and enthralled by the hands-on displays of cannons (the cannons in Europe were nowhere near as accessible), and now really understand the idea of "being caught in the cross-fire". We could have spent more time wandering Old San Juan... but on the taxi ride to the airport the other parts of the city that we saw were distinctly unappealing! Finding Culebra was definitely an unexpected treasure -- it is the pearl of Peurto Rico, and all the more precious because it is so unknown!

And "America", from the musical West-Side Story, has become our family theme song!

Beach Bums

Jan. 19, 2009
How long must one live on a beach before assuming the title of "Beach Bum"? I think we must almost be there... today it is officially one month since we disembarked from the opulence of the ship, and swapped it for life in our tent on the beach.


When we first arrived and thought we might stay for a few weeks, I had wanted to look for a villa or house to rent... but we would be hard-pressed to find a better set-up than we have right here. Our first camp-site was okay, but we soon realised that the heavy bush all around that made it nice and shady also prevented any breezes from making their way in, so we were sweltering at night. Mitch was very reluctant to even consider moving once we had everthing up and organised... but the kids and I were being munched by voracious sand-fleas every night, which gave us a little more incentive! When Mitch was in town one morning and we noticed some people moving out of a beautiful spot, we seized the opportunity and (with the help of a very kind Puerto Rican family), we had pretty much everything moved before he even got back. We are now right on the edge of the beach with a leafy bower for a dining room and space for an extra table for cooking that we have dubbed the 'kitchen'. We have a hammock slung between a couple of sea grape trees, and we inherited some chairs from Argentinean friends who were heading back home... except for the persisting sand fleas, it's pretty comfy! (A chair or two really does make a difference!)


And having a home in the forest is not without its entertainment: two huge coconut palms stand sentinel over the path the entrance to the sea right beside us, and routinely drop a huge frond with an almighty 'crash' right into our dining room -- the sea grapes that overhang have saved us from being crushed more than once! We have also had an iguana gallop by on two occasions now; and Cachell has a collection of shells that have become "crab-hotel" as they seem to attract the regular custom of a number of hermit crabs.

There are people here in the campground who come every year and stay for several months -- mostly single men. I suppose that without being here to see it first-hand, women would not even consider living alone in a beach environment, but Culebra is probably one of the few beaches in the world where a single female would be quite safe on her own. Most of the snow-birds here -- many of them retirement age -- originally went to Tortola in the British Virgin Islands, which is actually closer to Culebra geographically than mainland Puerto Rico... but Culebra offers them a somewhat cheaper and far less isolated life on the beach.

I love it here, but except as a place to stock up on groceries, I am really not interested in the mainland at all; we were reading some back-copies of the English newspaper for January 6th, and noticed that it reported the Puerto Rican homicide total for the year to be 11. I was certain they must be talking about 2008, but when I went through the January 7th paper, the total was already up to 14 murders! Apparently a year averages more than 800 homicides, the majority of them in young men aged 18 to 26. Drugs, poverty and lack of opportunity are such a tragic combination... .



Culebra
January 22, 2008

We used this longish respite here in Culebra to relax and rest and play, especially over the holidays, but also to get our home-schooling on track. Europe was really just an endless round of field trips and journal writing (with math squeezed in); now things have slowed down we have wanted to address a few issues with French language that I know the kids' struggle with, talk about some English grammar, and that kind of thing.

But there is something about being on the road that precludes structured, organised learning -- and we're probably better off for it! This morning, after finishing a marathon struggle with French verbs, the kids headed over to Mitch and their math books. Mitch had left the French lesson to do corrections, and was sitting at some picnic tables (which double routinely as a pirate ship) that the boys have dragged under a huge mangrove tree (the tree is the mast and crow's nest for their ship). In the momentary confusion of Mitch not having their books laid out, they took advantage and the next instant had swung up and into the mangrove overhead. As we were about to call them down to hit the books again, Lochlan started to shout excitedly for Cachell to come -- he had just spotted a little wood lizard that was in the process of shedding its skin. Math abandoned, they all climbed up and watched, fascinated, as this little guy loosened a gossamer-thin layer of skin, then pulled it up over his head and ate it! Pretty amazing to witness. Caelan and I had earlier seen a wood lizard chewing on a big bug; while Cachell and I sadly watched a bird gobble up a baby lizard another day.


And yesterday we noticed that the ants (and there are many of them, in varying colours, shapes and sizes) all over the campground were in an absolute frenzy of activity. Caelan, little font of knowledge that he is, said that he'd read that this happens when the flying ants are getting ready to leave the colony. Sure enough, later in the day there were flying ants all over the place -- drowning in the pooling candle wax, filling the bathrooms, and at times almost raining down. Today -- thankfully -- life for the ants seems restored to its normal hard-working calm... and I am enjoying watching my own little ants fly; there will always be math to do, but how often do they get these kind of learning moments?

* * *

We frequently are asked "what has been your favourite thing so far?". This always stumps the kids, as they can never single out one little thing, and end up shrugging helplessly (although when we talk on our own and go around round-robin spouting great moments in the trip, they have an endless supply of suggestions).

For me, although the question always stimulates a quick mental slideshow of the beautiful places we've been to and seen (from Dollar Castle to the Pont du Garde), it's the intimate family times that might never have happened otherwise that shine brightest. One was the look of excitement and amazement on the children's faces as we took the bus-ride from Gatwick airport through Crawley, England (of all places!) after we had just arrived from Canada. The streets, the buildings, the accents; everything was just so different for them and they were so awed and overwhelmed.

The second little nugget that I hold dear happened in Olympia, Greece. The campground we were in was deserted except for us, and one evening we got out the computer and listened to old Stevie Miller tunes as we were having supper. The next thing we knew, we were all up and dancing our hearts out as the light faded and the sun slowly set behind the olive trees.

And another jewel on this string of memories happened tonight. We eat by the light of candles here (it's dark by 6:30!), and we sat after dinner around our table, with the candles glowing warmly and their light flickering in the the trees that hang over the table, reluctant to get up and have to do the dishes. Suddenly Lochlan coughed and sputtered -- he'd inadvertently swallowed a bug! This started me off singing "I know an Old Lady who Swallowed a Fly"... and the kids were enthralled. Then Lochlan remembered a song he'd learned at Scouts... and there we were, singing away for more than an hour, with the sea and the cicadas keeping their own rhythms all around us. What amazed me was how lustily the boys joined in, and how they'd fearlessly harmonise with acapella sounds when they didn't know the words.

Television... and buying into the rat-race... really has robbed us all...


Jan. 30, 2008

Although there is nowhere in the world where the night sky is as beautiful as Saskatchewan, I have never been as intimately acquainted with the stars and moon as I am here in Culebra. Maybe it's because the stars are all in the wrong places that we spend so long looking at them; or maybe it's the kids wonder and excitement at seeing the night sky that is so infectious; or most probably it's because being here is about lingering over pleasurable things -- whatever the case, stargazing has become a favourite past-time.

And the moon here is extraordinarily beautiful. We have been here long enough to have watched it pop up as a new moon, a luminous, slim crescent hanging upside-down in the sky (instead of on its side as we see it way up north), and slowly grow to be a perfectly formed full-moon shining brilliantly, and giving almost as much light as the sun. Then it wanes so quickly, rising lazily and later and later each night until we scarcely see it at all. I'm going to miss being so intimate with the sky.

Beach Creatures

Flamenco Beach
Culebra, PR
Jan. 15. 2009


The sea-side here certainly does not lack for interesting creatures, in the water and out, of the two-legged, four-legged and no-legged (!) varieties. We spent the afternoon today playing in the big waves that crash up a little further down the shore from our campsite. After I while I moved to the shallow water and simply sat there, pooped, as the warm waves splashed over me and Caelan repeatedly rode his boogie-board right into the shore -- and over me as well!

An older woman was walking by and commented on his wonderful energy. As she was talking I looked at her more closely and got a bit of a start; she must have been battling or afraid of skin cancer, because she had thick white cream spread liberally around her mouth so it looked like a handle-bar moustache. It was a bit of a challenge to chatter unconcernedly back to her without gawking! As she moved off -- a sturdy woman who between her 'moustache' and strange hat could have passed as a man -- she was joined by an incredibly frail, stick-thin even older man who could barely put one foot in front of the other, especially in the deep sand. He was so terribly thin that his shorts flapped around his legs like a skirt, and I couldn't help thinking of the nursery rhyme of Jack Sprat who "could eat no fat and his wife could eat no lean..."!

Later, as the couple came back down the beach, it took me some time to convince Mitch who was the man and woman in the couple. As we were discretely watching and chatting, Mr. Sprat made his painful way down to the water. To my surprise, he waded in. As wave after wave broke and just about knocked him over, Mitch and I were driven to our feet, convinced that at any moment he was going to be washed over and drown. Then, just as we were starting towards him, he made it past where the waves were cresting and he seemed less unstable. With complete disregard for the box we had so prejudicially put him in, he suddenly executed a perfect leap and neatly body-surfed to shore. What exhilaration those few seconds must have given him, to feel the power and freedom of the sea and to be master of it, all earthly problems set aside for a glorious time...


The four-legged critters here have given us no end of fun to watch as well. There is a little inland pond just at the tip of the point where the beach becomes rock; we discovered, to Cachell's ever-lasting fascination and delight, that it is home to at least a dozen turtles. They swim through the pond with just their noses exposed, and if she sits still enough, they will crawl out and go right up to her toes.

And while she was delighting in the turtles on the day of discovery, the boys found their own exciting creature: a three foot iguana. He was just like watching a dinosaur in miniature, and he was quite unconcerned by our proximity. Eventually he abandoned the tree he'd been up when they first noticed him, and made his ponderous way down the bank and past Cachell (who was quick to get out of the way) before plunging into the turtle pond and swimming gracefully away.


Since then, we have had a few iguana encounters: one day as they boys were at the (open-air!) showers, one went crashing by with another -- a tough-looking and battle-scarred big guy -- in hot pursuit. There was also a big commotion on the other side of our tent one day and I ran out to the clearing to find the kids stalking an absolutley beautiful lime-green iguana with a pink head! (He's my favourite so far!) And Cachell and I went back to "Turtle Beach" this afternoon and found the original iguana munching loudly on the broad-leaved plants on the bank... thereby answering one of the questions that have perplexed us about these fierce looking creatures!




And then there were the geese... they just showed up one day, an older couple clearly wanting to stroll up and down the beach and enjoy the scenery. They stayed the weekend and then left, just like hundreds of other couples before them...

Meanwhile, I continue my love affair with the beasts in the deep -- as long as it's not too deep! And it doesn't have to be deep to yield all sorts of interesting things! I was swimming to the shore yesterday after snorkelling out to the "drop off" with the boys. I was seeing how far I could swim into shore before scraping the bottom, and enjoying the crystal clear beauty and turquoise colour you can see even under-water, when I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. It was another swordfish, swimming through the 18-inch depths with complete nonchalance. Of course, once he realised there was a strange creature lumbering along in his wake, he pretty rapidly hightailed it out to sea... he was so beautiful. (I have since learned that the two fish we have seen and mistakenly called "swordfish" are actually "ballyhos"! What a great name!)

Celebrations

Jan. 10, 2009

Although Culebra is not exactly a hotbed of social activity or cultural institutions, we have been here for some major celebrations that have given us memories we will always hold dear. First there was the exciting challenge of preparing for and celebrating Christmas in a campground (Santa left gifts and filled our stocking hung in the little 'porch' of our tent); then the huge New Year's party we danced the night away at, along with the rest of the island's population (those Latin dance lessons on the cruise ship could not have been timed better); after that we learned about and shared in Three King's Day; and then the following day was Cachell's 9th birthday.

Because we usually prolong birthday celebrations over a couple of days, we decided to take a trip into Fajardo on the mainland the day before Three Kings day to get supplies for the birthday 'party' and see a movie as part of the celebration. This involved getting up at 5:00 a.m. to catch the 6:00 ferry to the mainland; getting ready to go anywhere is always a challenge as the biggest mirror in the campground is my 2" x 3" make-up compact, but at 5:00 it was impossible to even see to put my contacts in!

Our main excitement on the mainland was furnished by grocery shopping in Wal-Mart, a place I usually avoid like the plague, but which was a cornucopia of choice after the bare bones provisions offered at Culebra's little shops! We then went for a birthday lunch at a Ponderosa restaurant, which was exactly like the one in Regina Mitch and I remembered going to as kids, right down to the salad bar, and seemed a major treat after our camp meals. (Puerto Rico seems to be largely like the culture
of small-city Saskatchewan in the 1970's.) The highlight was supposed to be going to a movie in the theatre next door, our first in six months... but the birthday girl didn't see much of the show. I had been surprised that none of us had been sick in any way despite all the changes in water and the exposure to new strains of illness that travelling inevitably produces -- until that day. My first inkling that all was not well was when Cachell refused any popcorn as the movie started; the next thing, she and I were running to the bathroom where she was very sick. This was repeated at least six times during the movie, in the taxi on the way to the ferry, at the ferry station, and then on the ferry... where she finally fell asleep. Poor little girl. Lochlan was sick once in the night, so I don't know what they ate or were exposed to, but thankfully it didn't become the full-fledged family epidemic I was afraid of!


Cachell was well enough to go to the Three King's celebration when she woke up, and then the following day we invited our friends from Argentina over for a birthday lunch. I'm not sure what they think of Canadian cuisine, as we had all the party food Cachell asked for, including jello (a bit of a challenge with only a cooler, but I managed!), and biscuits baked and slightly singed over a fire! But it was a fun time, and then we spent the afternoon swimming and playing on the beach. When I think of the hassle and work that go into the normal birthday party or Christmas celebration I marvel at how much fun we can have so simply...




Jan. 18, 2009

One of the great things about Culebra is its simplicity; it is largely undeveloped, and the one attempt at an up-market resort-style complex was reportedly cursed. Clearly it is affected by something, as it is big and beautiful... and largely empty. We met an American tourist who drove out there with her daughters and found it completely deserted and strangely eerie.

The most popular place in town is a strange little hotel and bar/restaurant called "Mamacita's", which is sort of a hodgepodge of pastel-coloured buildings. Every Saturday night (since apparently forever), a trio of local guys get together here and play amazing drum music.



We decided to make a night of it and for the first time, headed into town for supper. We all gamely started to walk in the three miles, but we got picked up by a passing vehicle as is usually the case on our hikes into town. (We would never have considered a three-mile walk when we started this trip, but now it is really no big deal, and we are in such good shape!) The "Dinghy-Dock" is another one of the town institutions we had heard about, so we headed there for supper. The menu was very simple, but it was all very good, and the freshly caught red snapper was absolutely superb. The main attraction, however, was the fact that we were sitting right on a dock with the water below, and swimming in the water were a number of huge four-foot fish called tarpins, which looked very much like small sharks. They kept the kids amused through supper, and then we walked over to Mamcitas in time to get excellent seats for the drumming.


We actually had met one of the drummers named George (pronounced 'Yorhay' in the Spanish fashion) when we stopped at his shop to admire his artwork, and he was very kind and chatty with the kids. And man, could those guys play. By this time it was after 9:00 p.m., and after a day of playing in the water the kids were pretty tired, so we just sat back and watched and clapped as others danced and whooped and hollered -- it was great fun. To our surprise and delight we actually knew several of the people who were there, and it was such a warm feeling to be welcomed and chatted to like old friends. We are as much a part of the community here in four weeks as we were after four years in Edmonton... it is so sad that this old-fashioned sense of community doesn't seem to exist in North American cities anymore. It's really something to strive for -- why else are we on this planet?

Culebra, Puerto Rico
January 6, 2009

Last night the children gathered grass and set it out in a tin for the camels of the Magi, who come to deliver gifts to the boys and girls of Puerto Rico (and the rest of the Spanish speaking world) on Three Kings Day -- January 6th. The 12 Days of Christmas mark the time following the birth of Christ when the three kings journeyed to Bethlehem to bring their gifts to the Baby. It's interesting -- the holiday decorations here all feature the Magi, not Santa, and although (largely due to US commercialism) thye now observe Christmas, too, Three Kings Day is really their major celebration.

As one of the locals told me, Santa Claus is not part of the Bible, and having the tradition of giving gifts in honor of the worlds most famous gift-givers makes much more sense. The Kings must have found us, because the grass was gone and the tin that held it was filled with chocolate sweets, lollipops and little toys! Exciting!

Then later in the morning Mitch heard that there was a children's party going on in town, so our wonderful Argentinian neighbours hustled the kids into their vehicle and sped them the three miles into town to see what was happening. The kids came home laden with candies and amazing gifts: Cachell got a Twister kit, Lochlan a huge box of varied board games, and Caelan a lego kit. This is such a generous community -- apparently the kids were standing on the edges, watching, when a lady ushered them into the thick of things and made sure they got gifts. The three Kings themselves had been there earlier but sadly our guys missed out on that... but they did get hot dogs and ice cream and little fireworks, not too mention another memory that will last their lifetimes, and resurrect every January sixth.

Living the 12 Days of Christmas

I wrote this as a potential travel article, so excuse the slightly different style...

**********

It all started with a stout man in a battered red truck festooned with Christmas garlands. His white whiskers stood out in stark relief against his ebony skin, and I unhesitatingly climbed in for the ride he was offering me. A three mile hike through the Caribbean heat was the only way to get to an internet connection, so a ride with St. Nick's cousin was a welcome respite.

"Were you decorated for Christmas?" I asked, hoping he spoke English.

"Si... but more for Three Kings Day," he replied with a thick accent. "And the New Year's party," he added.

We had arrived on the tiny Spanish Virgin Island of Culebra in mid-December, so we had been here long enough to learn that for Spanish communities, Three Kings Day on the sixth of January rivals Christmas in importance. In true Hispanic fashion, Christmas is only the kick-off to festivities leading up to the day the Magi presented their gifts to the Baby Jesus. But this was the first I had heard of a New Year's fiesta.

"The whole town has a party," he added. "At the ferry docks. We've been doing it for a dozen years -- every year it gets bigger. You should come with the ninjos... just bring some chairs and something to eat. Then celebrate, you know; salsa, merengue," he said with a deep rumbling laugh.

And so I found myself, at midnight on New Year's Eve, doing that which may have been impossible in any other setting: dancing the merengue with the enthusiastic partnering of my thirteen-year-old son. Beside us, my younger son and daughter were bopping energetically with my husband. Our small family circle was a tiny island in the sea of gyrating and swirling bodies all around us as the live band belted out pulsating Latin rhythms, and the fireworks burst in a glory of colour and noise overhead.

Ironically, Culebra is a sleepy little place; not somewhere to head for those hankering for a bustling social life. Dewey, the only town, consists of three or four haphazard streets, and an eclectic variety of shops. Days can go by when there is virtually no bread to be bought on the island; fruit and vegetables arrive from mainland Puerto Rico on a Wednesday... unless they decide on a different day that week. The general attitude to life is best described in the opening hours posted on a travelling food cart: "Closed Monday and Tuesdays -- and when I feel like it!".

Locals have bitterly opposed resort development and been largely successful. Although there are a couple of places like Costa Bonita and Club Seabourne where higher-end accommodation is possible, the flavour of the island is not conducive to five-star living. Most tourists who stay on the island use simple self-catering rooms or villas, like the pastel-painted Mamacitas in the centre of town .

The ferry arrives daily from Fajardo, Puerto Rico, spilling out a colourful collection of bikini-laden tourists, who tumble straight into the waiting 'taxis' and bump their way across the island to Playa Flamenco -- a long and sparkling white sandy beach which has been spared commercial development and is still like a little slice of paradise. After a day splashing in the turquoise waters, many tourists shower off the salt and sand and head back to the ferry and the attractions of the mainland.

Unless it is New Year's Eve. There were no posters up to advertise the event; no one at the Tourist Information Booth on the beach mentioned a New Year's party, but through the Puerto Rican grapevine the word has spread, and bringing in the New Year in Culebra has become an event unrivalled by glitzier parties in the world's big cities. It's not like it was organized -- all the islanders provided was eight-hours of live Latino music, but their generosity of spirit softens the most cynical, and after an hour or two, everyone, young and old, Puerto Rican or tourist, was grooving to the beat.

"The thing about a party here is that it safe," my Santa-friend told me as he negotiated the old red truck around bone-jarring pot-holes. "Nobody's drinking too much, or doing the drugs like in the big cities -- they're just dancing and having a good time. Living the easy life," and he laughed again.

For those of us after easy living, Culebra-style, the ultimate accommodation is in a tent or hammock in the shady glades ringing the sands of Playa Flamenco. Facilities at the campground are primitive, to say the least, but to wake up and step onto the warm sand of the beach as the sun kisses the sea good morning is worth a cold shower. Our neighbours in the campground are returning snowbirds who come every year with their tents and snorkels and stay for months, or families from the mainland -- and everyone is happy to be here.

"I keep the decorations on for Three Kings Day," my friend tells me as we approach the town. "We have another little party on the sixth; give out presents to the kids, you know. Like the Kings gave to Jesus."

My own kids are clamouring to fall in with the local tradition, so on the night on January 5th we will be setting out a box full of grass for the camels, in hopes that the Kings will return our generosity by leaving the box full of candies and small gifts.

But few gifts can rival those this beautiful island has already lavished upon us: beautiful clear waters with colourful reefs and hundreds of fish, and friendly people out to welcome us to their celebrations and way of life.

"So how long have you lived in Culebra?" I ask curiously as the truck slows to a stop.

The Father-Christmas figure laughs again. "All my life. I tried other places, other islands... but no where else do they understand how to live like this. Felicidades."

Christmas Letter

Flamenco Beach (Playa Flamenco)
Culebra, Spanish Virgin Islands

Dec. 22, 2008

Merry Christmas!

I feel almost apologetic that as I am writing on this balmy evening, with the stars beaming overhead and the cicadas and the sea singing of Christmas in the background, it is a snowy -30 degrees in Edmonton. Although a small part of me longs for the coziness of a fire crackling on a frosty evening, the other part of me is thinking that the weather I am enjoying is much more in keeping with what Mary and Joseph endured as they trekked through the desert on a hot and sweaty donkey. Thankfully for us, we really don't have too much 'hot and sweaty' -- in the Puerto Rican summer, we would be dealing with almost 40 degrees C, but right now we average about 28, which is just about perfect.

It's been an unusual year. I am casting back to try and remember last Christmas, and my memories are of carolling in the snow and then the happy faces of friends gathered on Boxing Day. Day-to-day life is strangely blurry. Caelan says he has almost forgotten what the cul-de-sac looks like. It's nice that the incredible stress of preparing to leave has faded, to be replaced with mental pictures of a Gaudi building in Barcelona, or the kids' faces as we approached Carcasonne, or the inside of a small church outside of Berlin, all decorated for a wedding. Even the less appealing images from the last six months -- Cachell throwing up at a bus stop the morning we first arrived in London, or Lochlan jumping back into an Italian train car to check for a book, only to have the train start to leave with him in it -- are really not a big deal on Life's stress monitor! It's really taken month's to shake off and deal with administration details from home, and in hindsight, we should probably have just sold off all our rental properties before we left, as they continue to give us long-distance headaches (there's no escape!)... and I imagine that house prices have sufficiently tumbled to a point that we'll be saddled with them for a few years to come! However, it would seem that the best way to handle this "world-wide economic crisis" that is apparently happening is with the blissful ignorance of being far away from English news-papers and world news. It's easier to sit out fears of the worst splashing on a beach than biting my nails in Edmonton!!

The best thing about having spent the last six months trotting around Europe is how multi-layered our understanding of the world is becoming. The advent of Christmas is a perfect example of this; although we didn't actually get to Turkey and the middle East where Jesus lived and taught, the story of Christ has somehow come to life for all of us. We were in the Aachen Dome in Germany and saw the casket which holds the swaddling clothes that Mary wrapped her baby in to lay him in a manger. As we clambered the towers and walls that loom over the enormous rock formations of Les Baux-de-Roche in France, we realised that Les Baux was founded by Balthazar, one of the Magi who stood in adoration over the baby Jesus and later established himself in the far-away land which would one day be France -- the heraldry of Les Baux depicts the Star of Bethlehem. And of course we are only recently departed from Rome, where Constantine adopted the teaching of Christ and catapulted his teachings to the far corners of the Empire, and where the Vatican's Basillica is built over the tomb of Jesus's friend and disciple, Peter.

On a less lofty note, the practicalities of Christmas in a very primitive campground have been interesting! We have decorated the tropical shrubs around our campsite with little red balls I brought from Venice. We have a little portable table in our tent's 'porch' (lugged with no small effort across the ocean) that I have covered with a cut-work Santa cloth bought in Gibraltor. On it are the little nutcrackers Mrs. Adolph gave me for the children before we left her in France, and the kids' three favourite little ornaments that I brought from home. Gibraltor (one of the stops of the cruise ship that brought us to the Caribbean) also provided us with a Marks and Spencers store -- yippee! -- so I have a Christmas pudding and brandy butter, and some shortbread cookies and mince tarts. Still frozen in our little styrofoam cooler is a small chicken that we will barbeque, and the tiny local grocery store has also yielded a tin of cranberries and a packet of instant stuffing. We will be able to have a Christmas feast of sorts, in between trips to the beach, which is about ten steps from our site and one of the world's "Most Beautiful". Hopefully Santa will find us here, perhaps aided by a team of dolphins; we're feeling hopeful on this subject as a number of Christmas cards from friends and family did manage to get to us here already!! (Thanks so much!) There is no English-speaking church, but we are going to a children's service tonight.

This truly is about as "far from the madding crowd" as you can get; the island of Culebra is only 3 X 7 miles, and boasts a population of 3000. This is the land of living in the slow lane -- singer Jimmy Buffet lives on Tortola, just a couple of islands over. After the insanity of normal life, the rush to get away, and then the pleasurable but exhausting overload of Europe, we are ready to live like the locals and do as little as possible for a few weeks -- then we will plan the second phase of our year away!

At home I found myself repeating the refrain -- "just give me a minute to think", and it never seemed to materialise!! The gift of time is the greatest thing our sojourn on this island is giving us, so I truly mean it when I say we will be thinking of all of you over the holidays, and wish you peace and happiness in the New Year.

With love from,

Candace, Mitch, Lochlan, Caelan and Cachell

PS: If any of you are feeling slightly bitter as you read this and then have to go out in the Arctic cold, take solace in the fact that at last count I had more than seventy sand flea bites on each leg, and I am one big itch!! Every cloud has a silver lining, and every Paradise has its biting insects!!! Have a happy day, bugs, snow, and all!

Paradise

Flamenco Beach
Culebra, Puerto Rico
Dec. 22, 2009


Ever since we started to put this trip together, I have dreamed of lying on a beach with nothing to do! I am now living out my fantasy, and I would be hard-pressed to improve upon it!

We disembarked from the cruise ship early on the 19th, found a mini-cab willing to take us from San Juan to Fajardo (about an hour), and then caught the stomach-churning ferry-boat over here to the Spanish Virgin Island of Culebra.

Once we docked, there was one final cab to catch for the three-mile trip out here to the campground... where we arrived just in time to discover that all the beach vendors were closing up for the day, and there was no food to be had!

Nothing daunted, we managed to get set up in the rapidly failing light, and blessed our friends in Berlin who had given us a package of specially shaped pasta as a souvenir! It made for a meagre supper, but got us through the night!

It's pretty primitive here: the electricity to the bathrooms is shut off -- but at least the toilets have seats and flush; the showers are cold water and simply faucets on a simple platform open to all and sundry -- but there is a supply of clean drinking water. but the greatest thing of all is the beautiful beach and turquoise sea only steps away.

And the snorkelling is breath-taking. I LOVED the idea of snorkelling, although my only prior experience was in Thailand on our honeymoon, when Mitch and I had eye-goggles and nose-plugs as well as borrowed (ugh!) snorkels. The water there was only 18 inches deep, and we saw a few coloured fish and were extremely happy.

So in anticipation of the much-lauded snorkelling possibilities in the Caribbean, we dragged full gear for everyone all over Europe. We were told by the guys who run the campground that the best snorkelling is on the other side of the hill we are camped beside, so yesterday we loaded up our gear and hiked for a mile or so until we found the "snorkel beach".


Once there, I suddenly realised that snorkelling here was going to be a little more challenging. I really struggle with claustrophobia (which is embarrassing to admit), so putting on a full face-mask was a bit daunting; and then there was that whole discomfort in deep-water thing! But the kids were enthusiastically donning their flippers, and the thought of seeing the fish was alluring enough to get me geared up and out in the water... although no one will ever know the amount of courage it took to get me out that first time (more embarrassment), it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life!

There is no water source on Culebra, so there is very little run-off and as a result the sea waters are crystal-clear. The reef where we were is made up of beautiful rocks, and exquisite fan coral in reds and purples, as well as tube and brain corals in oranges and browns. It was gorgeous-- and full of fish of every possible colour. It was so exciting. And as Lochlan and I were out fairly deep, we suddenly saw a small sword-fish swim past -- he was thrilled (Lochlan was, that is -- the fish probably not so much!).

I was also so impressed with how all of the kids were able to just relax and let the sea support them. We were out way over everyone's heads for at least 30 minutes, and although they were tired when we came in, no one had any problem.

And the water here is bath-tub warm... it will be a long time before I'm ready to leave!


Dec. 23


One of the bizarre things out here is that there are several rusting army tanks dotted around the campground. Turns out the Americans used Culebra -- and particularly this beach area -- for target since the 1930s, and only stopped in the last decade. In fact, the US army came back just last year and did a sweep of the beach, finding several pieces of live munitions!! The locals are so gracious to us tourists and all the ex-pats to live here -- they could easily have decided to hate all "nort-Americanos", and who could really blame them? Apparently there is stil a lot of resentment (and resultant crime) on the nearby island of Vieques, where they only stopped the arms testing in 2003.

Here there is no such attitude; in fact, the Puerto Ricans seem to love nothing better that posing on top of the tanks for family pictures! Ai carumba!!!

Remembering

February 12, 2009

I have to pause in the middle of frantically trying to get all my notes updated as blog pages while I have reasonable internet access... and remember my Mom. We lost her five years ago today, and the hole that her passing left in my heart remains a gaping one. I so desperately wish she could be with us for parts of this adventure that we are having... but it was losing her so young that helped us hold fast to our dream in the face of nay-sayers and difficulties along the way. I strive to be a better person as a tribute to who she was, and I am so thankful for the quality of the time we had.

A dear and wise friend of mine -- who has been motherless for a tragically long time now -- told me that Mom's place will remain unfilled, but that women will come in and out of my life who will take the edges off the pain and fill some of the gaps. These past months have given me so many instances... time to reconnect with Hannah and Natalie in England; weeks with Lisa and Katrin and their family in Germany, and Helen and her daughter in Spain; an unexpected gift of time with Dagmar in France as she prepares for the loss of her own mother... and the brief but heart-warming encounters with so many amazing women on the island of Culebra: Margaret, Holly, Ruth, Nancy, Inez, and others whose names I don't even know! Time spent with all of these women was a gift they didn't even realise they were giving... .

And of course it is the thought of my friends and family at home that makes the idea of going back something warm and welcoming to look forward to... and the idea of friends sprinkled across the globe that makes it a place I want to explore. Thank you, everyone, for helping to fill up the hole.

Cruisin'

Onboard the Galaxy, on the Western Mediterranean
Dec. 7, 2009

It's been such a luxury -- and no small culture shock -- to go from very basic, budget travel to life on a cruise ship. The kids are just beside themselves with excitement -- and the boys (including Mitch) are certainly doing their best to make sure we get our money's worth from all the restaurants!



Our most exciting meals, of course, have been in the formal dining room. During our last five months of campground living, we have all been discussing how manners appropriate at a picnic table might not cut it "at the Captains' table". I am proud to say that the children have found their "Captain's table manners", and actually love the glitz and glamour of gettting spiffied up evey night to go and eat. If they had their way, it would be a formal night every night! We have a female waitress -- the only woman among dozens of men -- she's a Serb named Tamara and terribly strong to be hauling around those enormous platters of food. Cachell is very enamoured with her, and Tamara is shocked that the kids don't want the kids menu but are eager to try all the strange and gourmet foods. Lochlan has happily tucked away a Cornish game hen and significant amount of crab and salmon!



Ports of Call
Dec. 11, 2009

When we booked this cruise we were excited by the possibility of dipping into Northern Africa for a few days; it seemed a safe way to introduce the children to that exotic (and unstable) continent. We are very disappointed that they have changed the itinerary to exclude Africa; it is "Feast of the Lambs" at this time of year, apparently, which can involve sacrifice of animals in public venues... and Celebrity felt that this might be too upsetting for passengers. You would think they would have done their research better... these last minute changes meant we stopped in Cartahenga, Spain on a Sunday, when the whole place was shut down, which was a big let-down. We were interested to see Gibraltor but it was largely unaccessible as the tram up to the rock was closed when we docked!!! (Again, really poor research on the part of the cruise line.) But that strange little bit of Britainia on the southernmost tip of Europe did let us shop for some essential bits and pieces in anticipation of celebrating Christmas in Puerto Rico!

We knew the Canary Islands, off the western coast of Africa, were on the itinerary, but having spent a week in Gran Canaria when Lochlan was a baby (we all got food poisoning and were sick as dogs the entire time!), we weren't really eager to explore them further. The Canary islands are pretty much just big volcanic rocks in a hot setting... they are a huge destination spot with sun-loving Europeans, but really have little to offer but weather. On most of the islands, even the beaches are man-made.


Having said all that, we were on Tenerife today and it was quite interesting. We rented a car so we could drive up the volcano. The geography itself was really beautiful, but the best part of it for us was literally driving so high that we emerged from the thick, rainy clouds that have been following the ship ever since we left Rome. We hadn't realised how desperate we were for the sun until we burst through the cloud... and what an amazing thing, to be perched at the top of the world in sparkling sunlight, with a thick layer of cloud spread at our feet!

And the volcano was so different and fun to explore... we didn't go all the way to the cone, but went for a hike across the moonscape of lava rock at the base of the summit, instead. Walking on the volcanic rocks sounded like walking on glass -- it tinkled and clinked beneath our feet, and was a great place to play.




The Galaxy
Mid-Atlantic
Dec. 12, 2008

We're on our second full day at sea. It's a bit eerie looking out across the water, in every direction, and seeing... nothing. If I wasn't a child of big skies it might make me crazy!

In terms of eccentricities, I have always been a bit afraid of the water -- and yes, I think it is a result of my Dad exposing me to "Jaws" too young! I have always been particularly nervous of the idea of the Bermuda Triangle, so it was with absolute horror that I read the daily "local history" the ship provides yesterday, and it was all about the centre of the Atlantic Ocean called the Sargasso Sea, which is noted for inexplicable shipwrecks and disappearing craft of all kinds!! WHY WERE THEY TELLING ME THIS?! Turns out we have to pass right over a chunk of it -- and yup, the Sargasso Sea includes the Bermuda Triangle! Fortunately, our ship will not be passing over that; the Saragasso is bad enough. Eek!! The Sargasso Sea is also called the Sea of Lost Ships (more terrified squeeking!), and sailors have been talking about it with dread for centuries. Essentially, it's a large patch of warm waters surrounded by cold and turbulent Atlantic waters; because of the drastic change in water temperature, the weather above it is often much more temperate, which can lead to a complete loss of wind. A becalmed sea is a nightmare for sailors, and on the Saragossa vessels have been found shipshape but totally deserted -- or filled with skeletons. The Saragossa is named because its entire expanse is covered with a kind of seaweed called saragassum -- which is unusual because seaweed usually grows in shallower water, near shore. Poor old Columbus saw the saragassum and thought land must be near; in fact, it is many miles to the sea floor and still hundreds of miles from land . (Still squeeking!!) For smaller propeller boats, even today this seaweed could get entangled and destroy their engines.

The spookiest part of all this is that large, modern ships with large propellers and engines should not be troubled by either "the doldrums" (lack of wind) or the saragassum... but a number of cargo ships have never been accounted for after entering the Sargasso. Add in the missing aircraft over the Bermuda triangle, and it's enough to make the hair stand up on the back of my neck!! We wanted the adventure of an ocean crossing -- but I hope the excitement won't be more than the 12 metre swells we had on our first day out from Rome!! If you're reading this, I guess we made it through without becoming another statistic

Farewell Europe

Dec. 4, 2009

It's with no little sadness that we have reached the end of our European tour; it's really been beyond our expectations in terms of the delight we have gotten out of everywhere. There is really no place we look back on and think "well that was a waste of time" -- we loved everywhere we went. The few bad nights we had were due to our own errors; most notably: losing the fly on the tent in the pouring rain in Wales, having no tent for a night in Pisa after the poles were temporarily damaged, and one grotty night in a campground 'bungalow' in Greece. We were almost ready to dislike St. Tropez after spending a few days there on our own, caught up in heavy traffic and exorbitant accommodation prices, but then we escaped up into the hills near Grasse (above St. Tropez and area) with the Adolph's, and as they showed us how to day-trip in and out of the expensive but incomparable coast and it's attractions, it became one of our favourite places.

Switzerland, long looked-forward-to by the children, especially Cachell (we read Heidi together before we left), was our least favourite destination. Although there were some notable exceptions, we found the Swiss we encountered to be really arrogant and rude, which spoiled things a bit. But the scenery was lovely, Lac Lugano beautiful, and our picnic day in the area where "Heidi" was set is one of my favourite memories! We are much more clued-in as to how to travel in Switzerland the next time!

We all have found it difficult to narrow things down to one "favourite place", but in our top ten are:


1. Paris Disneyland (Small enough to enjoy thoroughly in a single giddy and action-packed day!









2. Carcasonne (French mediaeval city)









3. Punting on the Cam in Cambridge (with good friends and beautiful weather)







4. Greece: it was a package deal, we really can't isolate one place!









5. The Mediaeval Festival nears Pals, Spain











6. Cycling through Potsdam (Berlin) with our 'German family'








7. Venice -- who needs to say more?!











8. Exploring Scottish Castles (we had a pass to see as many Historic Scotland castles -- including Edinburgh -- as we could in three days. Fantastic!)











9. Boating on the Mediterranean for a magical three days








10. Our first day in London, when the kids saw Big Ben, Westminster, the National Gallery and Trafalgar Square, rode the underground, had tea and scones, and found Platform 9 3/4's in King's Cross (which was right beside the platforms we used to get back and forth to Hitchin in our pre-Harry Potter time in England!)





And now we're leaving the old world behind, and following (almost exactly) in the watery footsteps of Christopher Columbus and setting off for the New World!!




Realities

Dec. 5th


Leaving Europe has also meant saying 'farewell' to our trusty Puegot Partner Totem, and facing the reality of packing our luggage around ourselves! Two big boxes were dispatched from Rome, but it was still no mean feat to get all our bit and pieces across Rome and onto the ship! (And the weather brewed up some lovely rainy weather to help make it easier for us to leave, but more difficult to travel!)