You ok, baby?

In the Caribbean, "You Okay, baby?" means, "Hello. How are you today?"

In the few fleeting moments before our departure for Colombia, I would like to jot down a few bright memories from Antigua. Hopefully, I can elaborate later.

1. When I heard some interesting music blasting from a bar in St. John's, I asked the bartender what it was. She walked me outside and said several things I didn't understand. Then we walked down an alley to a big gray building where she seemed to think I could find music. It was closed. She told me to come back tomorrow. I had to work the next few days, but I returned to St. John's to shop at the market this morning. I debated going back to the bar. It was apparent when I had gone the last time that they didn't see many white girls. They especially didn't see any white girls who wanted to buy the music they blasted out of 4 foot square speakers. I had to go back. She was there, and had made me a mix CD of her favorite songs. She didn't think I'd come back, but she understood when I told her I had to work. We're pretty much best friends now.

2. On the bus ride back, (sidenote: buses in Antigua are about as big as a large van, but fill with about 40 people and are sometimes driven by people who look like Ali G) I learned about street names. The bus had emptied as we neared the yacht club and the driver struck up a conversation. "What's your name?" "ASHLEY!" I shouted above the lawnmower-like engine. "What's yours?"
"Robert," he told me. Then he asked what my street name was. "What's that?" I asked.
"It's what they call you on the street."
I wasn't sure if this man thought I was a prostitute; a prostitute wearing a baggy long-sleeved UV-protectant shirt.
"I don't have one," I said. "What's yours?"
"Blood," he said.
"Do you make up your own street name, or does somebody give you one?" I asked.
"NO! You can't make up your own," he said.
"How did you get to be called Blood?"
"Once I was hit by a car. The other guy everyone called Blood wasn't around anymore, so they called me Blood."

When I was leaving the cab, I asked Blood to give me a street name.
"Ok, your name is Second Time. Because you've ridden the bus twice." The bus, like the bar, isn't used to people without street names.


3. Another quick note -- Running in Antigua was amazing: the hills, the flowers in yards, the expanses of space, beach and water. On my way back yesterday, tired from the hills and afternoon sun, I finally caught sight of masts poking up over the countryside. "Ahh, home," I thought.

The Life Aldebaran

Similar to the old saying, "Cruising is fixing boats in paradise," a new axiom could be made about what we do: "Working on Reach the World is working in ridiculous situations."

Evidence:
1. Trying to write on passage = vomiting all over the galley sink. Chunks cling to the sides of the sink and slide down slowly. You can calm your flaming esophagus with the sight of a purple sunset.

2. If at all, bars are the only places with available outlets. This means:
A. Writing for kids to a soundtrack of Shakira, Kanye West and the Pussy Cat Dolls
B. Viewing "intimate" and "expressive" dancing just a stride from this very computer
C. Karaoke night: There's nothing like, "Total Eclipse of the Heart" at the 6 billion decibel level when you're trying to make The Arecibo Radio Frequency Telescope interesting to 9-year-olds.
D. Someone just went by doing this intense, but very fluid air-guitar/shuffle/leap across the room.

These are memorable times. It was the air-guitar that started me thinking. We might as well relish the times we can carry our computers across dry land to a place with plentiful electricity. If that comes with a partly-out of tune, "Hotel California," and dozens of yachties, those are the breaks. Soon, it'll be back to the sea, and the next educational sojourn. Too soon, it'll be back to town; back to the 'race. You know, the place where cheeseburgers are accessable, but the tuna is expensive.

Guadeloupe, vous etes mignon

Many Guadaloupeans do not speak English. This means they are more tolerant of foreigners' feeble attempts at communication. One can converse in french and receive a smile instead of the traditional Parisian scowl.

Dear Guadeloupe, Thanks for the good coffee, french cheese and opportunity to practice ma francais. Also, thanks for the euros that are now going to sit in my wallet for months. Sincerely, Ashley

We left Guadeloupe early to get the transmission fixed in Antigua.

My bus driver looked like Ali G

This picture was taken when my bus driver left the glorified van to say hello to his girlfriend en route from Falmouth Harbor to St. John's, Antigua. I didn't mind the stopover because it enabled me to catch a photo of him in his natural habitat.

Quick notes

I'm doing work at a local restaurant right now. It has good music and that reminds me of the radio in Puerto Rico. I'm not sure why, but they really like sound effects over there. When the DJ comes on there is a cornucopia of background noise. Automatic-weapon gunfire from a firing squad in an echo chamber greets inter-galactic warfare and synthesizer-generated drums behind an enthusiastic and expedited speaker. "Dooj dooj tsewww voom Ra-ra-ra-rah dio Pweerto Rico! Feliz Navidad. Doooj doooj tsewww." Yeah, I don't really know what the deal is. Then the music comes on and every song sounds exactly the same. I love Puerto Rico, I really do. I just don't understand who's engaging in combat at their radio stations or why. Maybe that's not just my business.

You know what is my business? What parts of my undergarments are unknowingly exposed. I can be very oblivious and this is something I need to work on. People say "Oh, you're traveling with all guys. They're going to look out for you." Umm. Yes and no. Yesterday, we had dropped off our laundry and I only had one shirt left. I had never worn it before and I don't really look in the mirror on the boat. All day, I walked around exposing part of a particularly flamboyant bra. "Everyone is SO friendly here!" I said. "Hey guys, I got a free purse at the sail maker's!" --- They responded: Yeah, I'll bet you did. Look in a mirror. Ahh, lovely.

On a similar note, when we were on Saba Rock, I was carrying several bags to relocate tables for a better place to work when my wrap skirt unraveled leaving me with little choice but to display my glorious sailing team underwear to an entire restaurant full of people. So as I was turning around in an attempt to cover up, I TRIPPED and FELL on my FACE. Luckily, most people were consuming food at the time and were actually not watching my every move. In the words of the batender, "Hey nice necklace, do you want some tequila?" These kinds of things just happen to me. One thing's for sure, I'm going to wear a full-body baggy jump suit when we get to Colombia. Yes, that's right. Full-body. Baggy. Jump. Suit. Maybe burlap so I look especially unfriendly and potato-like. I'm not saying potatoes are unfriendly, per se.

Things I Like. Also, my Death List

Things I like:
1. What I do
2. Hose clamps
3. Zip ties
4. Jumping off the boat from a halyard
5. Our tiny dinghy and its 15 horse engine
6. What I will do in the future
7. The people at Tropical Sails


Death List
1. The Gusher 10 manual bilge pump, its bad attitude and all of its kin
2. Mold on my straw hat
3. When people growl while working