Driving in the DR

Too soon? She’s pretty tall for her age.

Imagine that you are in a street racing video game. Add livestock.  Add many potholes. Include lots of motorcycles that don’t follow any rules of the road. Prize for winning? You get to do it again tomorrow.

Driving in the DR is absolute insanity, and each area of the country has its own quirks. It’s like unlocking different areas and levels within the game. Luperon and the surrounding country roads are more rural, so way more livestock crossings. Also, the roads are terrible, i.e. constant potholes. Like doing the moguls with your car. Santo Domingo? At least five lanes of gridlock traffic each way, roadway signs that make no mention of the actual road or area to which you are exiting, and everywhere is a turn lane – in either direction – including sudden u-turns. Oh, and a steady chorus of honking, as leaning on your horn is as commonplace as slamming on your brakes. On the flip side, driving in the mountains has you doing so many switchbacks that your brakes start smoking, making your kiddo ask why the car smells funny.

Here’s a video to give you an idea, and then after, we’ll include some rules of the road to make your adventures as successful and fulfilling as ours have been.

Sadly, this photo does not capture the elusive fifth lane, to the right of the truck.

Okay, so now that that leisurely Sunday drive through a local town is out of the way, here are some specific guidelines that you can follow regardless of where in the DR you are driving:

  • Two-lane roads are really three-lane roads, with the middle lane marker being a free-for-all third lane for passing, though sometimes people also pass on the shoulder, though it’s usually not a shoulder, per say, but more like a ditch. So a five-lane road then. The two actual lanes, the middle passing lane, and the less-established shoulder lane in each direction.
  • Traffic lights are optional. Don’t feel like waiting? Merge right out into oncoming traffic whenever you feel ready. Others will certainly get out of the way.
  • I’ve seen some red signs that look like stop signs but nobody seems to stop at them so I think they are lawn ornaments.
  • Drinking while driving – technically illegal. Will you get pulled over for it? Nah. At the gas stations here, they sell cold beer and will open it for you and put it in a little paper bag for your trip. So thoughtful! Besides, the police have better things to check your car for, like weapons and drugs.
  • Park wherever you want. Literally. I mean, the cabs will actually pull to a complete stop in middle of the main lane of a two-lane road to let customers out. And they may wait there a few minutes to see if anyone else wants to get in. You’re not in a rush anyway, right?
  • I think we’ve seen some speed limit signs from time to time, but they were in kilometers anyway, and who can be expected to convert from miles that quickly? Besides, everyone follows the general speed of traffic anyway. And that speed makes driving and drinking a cup of coffee or a cerveza at the same time next to impossible.
  • The motorcycle is always right. They outnumber you. They will buzz past within inches of you at any and all opportunity.

Some things you will likely have to slow down or stop for at some point:

I have no idea what they’re selling. I’ll just stop right here in the middle of the road to find out.

  • Cows
  • Horses
  • Chickens
  • Goats
  • Pigs
  • Donkeys
  • Motorcycles
  • People carrying produce on their heads
  • Potholes
  • The national police wielding rifles at a random check point

Some things you will pass while driving:

  • An old man trying to sell fish hanging from a wooden staff
  • A younger man trying to sell puppies
  • Women trying to sell themselves. Also, women trying to sell stuffed unicorns
  • Men urinating
  • All livestock listed above
  • Rows of vendors all selling the same thing at the same price (roasted nuts, handmade rugs, flip-flops, produce, etc.)

Now, navigating the car through the DR roads is one thing. The car itself is a whole different ballgame. If you are planning to rent a car from one of the many locals, here are a few know-before-you-go tips:

  • It’s best to rent from someone that you were referred to by someone you trust.  For us, the cruising community provided this.
  • Your gas tank will start on empty, likely without even enough gas to get to the gas station.
  • You windshield will likely be cracked.
  • The tires may or may not be flat.  And if they aren’t, one might be tomorrow.
  • Think of the “Check Engine Light” as decoration.
  • Custom car alarms cause cars to lock themselves. Whether or not your keys are in them. Learned that one the hard way.
  • If the car doesn’t start, simply open the hood and bang on the battery and starter a few times. Works like a charm.
  • Engine overheating? No problema. Pour water on it (or perhaps in it?)
  • Sometimes your headlights will work. Sometimes your lowlights will work. Sometimes your dash lights will work. Sometimes they might all work at the same time.
  • Keep some duct tape with you in case the rearview mirror or side mirrors fall off.

I feel confident that once you master driving here, you can drive anywhere. Hell, in the States, with the order and structure of traffic grids and speed limits and dependable drivers, you could probably drive and do your taxes at the same time.

While everything included in this helpful guide is 100% true and has been experienced by us, there is a rhythm to driving here that is attainable with practice. Aaron has become quite skilled at it and is fully comfortable behind the wheel, and I’m slowly but surely putting some miles under my belt. So get out there and try it! Just be very cautious. Auto and liability insurance here, well, that’s a whole other story…

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DR Road Trip

In the past week, we drove 328 miles. We spent the night in four different places. Aaron became an expert at traversing the crazy Dominican roadways, Claire was a complete trooper (and a backseat driver), and we really, truly saw the Dominican Republic.

When we decided to park the boat in Luperon for hurricane season, Aaron and I were on the same page about taking advantage of this amazing opportunity to drive the country. Luperon has proven to be a rich home base for us, but there is so much more here – such diversity in landscape and community – we decided to stretch the budget a bit and explore as a family.

We had about a week before Claire started school in Cabarete, so we planned a pretty aggressive route – south to the lush mountain town of Jarabacoa, through the countryside to the crazy metropolis of Santo Domingo, and then back up to the breathtaking north coast.

A combination of AirBnB and Marriott hotel points allowed us to find cost-effective lodging and we wheeled and dealed with the local Luperon car rental contact, Franklin, for the Suzuki 4-wheel-drive beast that is ours through Nov. 1. That part, alone, is a story for another time.

The pictures below tell the story better than I ever could in words. But in a few, we jumped and slid down waterfalls, rode horses through the mountains and swam in a riverside pool. We had fried chicken sushi and pizza with fresh strawberries and breathed in the invigorating scents of greenery all around us.

We took advantage of the sheer decadence of Uber after Aaron battled traffic getting into Santo Domingo that can only be described as complete insanity. We walked to the point of jelly legs through the Zona Colonial and chased some cats through the ruins of a 16th century monastery. Aaron and I reveled in craft beers while playing board games and yes, we went to Ikea.

Not all of it was perfect, of course. We took a quick drive through Bonao, a more gritty city south of Jarabacoa, and decided to continue on our way. And with nerves on overdrive, Aaron navigated our Suzuki through the Sunday morning open-air markets on Expreso 27 de Febrero in Santo Domingo – blocks and blocks of Air Jordans and Jansport backpacks and boots and clothes and fruits and vegetables and TRAFFIC. It was a chaos we were happy to experience from the car. But even so, we appreciated experiencing these pockets of culture.

I tried to think back to when we did road trips as a family in the States, and truthfully, we really didn’t – aside from when we drove from Oak Park, Ill., to move onto Clarity in Florida. And why didn’t we?! The drive to get to each place brought as many memories as the places themselves, so much of this beautiful country that we would have missed completely if we only visited by boat. But a big difference now is time. We had the time. We’ve made the time as a family, to explore the world together.

To try to find the true essence of a place, to peel back the layers, to get lost in it all. That’s where the magic is.

 

First-Year Reflections

Our monkey, at home climbing trees on the beach in Luperon, DR.

One of the questions I received most often from friends and family while back in the States was, “So how much longer are you going to do this?”

Spoiler alert: I have no idea. It could be a few months, or a few years. But one person phrased it a bit differently. She said, in a completely non-judgmental way, “Are you done?”

She was asking because I had just detailed the laundry list of challenges we faced in the past year. As my response came tumbling out of my mouth, I surprisingly found myself uttering a succinct thought that I hadn’t voiced before, maybe hadn’t even realized before. But it’s at the crux of everything for me.

“I don’t want to stop living a life that challenges me, that kicks me in the butt, in the best ways and in the hardest ways.”

Crew Clarity has officially completed a full year of cruising. Strangely enough, the anniversary came and went in mid-July, while we were in the States, completely oblivious to the milestone. We were too busy to notice. Life in the States is defined by busyness.

But the time away from the boat allowed me to reflect on this crazy ride we’ve been on, to recognize what went to plan and what didn’t, to see the ups and downs for what they were, and to gain the perspective you can only find with distance – literal and figurative.

Here are some thoughts on our first year.

 

First-Year Projection: Life on the boat will be so much cheaper!

Reality: Not really. And this is for a number of reasons.

  1. Our first cruising grounds were the Bahamas, one of the most expensive places you can go in terms of the cost of food, the price to do anything on land (eat out, rent a car, book a tour), and the charges for having (much-needed) boat parts shipped from the States.
  2. While we don’t have a mortgage or car payments, we still currently have two boat payments. Yep, two. Our Pearson in Chicago still hasn’t sold. Sigh… It’s a long story. And for that one, in addition to the loan payments, we have yard storage fees. This is killing us.
  3. While healthcare in general is much, much cheaper pretty much anywhere but the States, certain atypical situations come with a hefty price tag. Like, say, sticking a bean up one’s nose. And then refusing to let any doctors try to get it out. Tallying up to $4,000 – yep, you read that right – our “bean incident” gave our cruising budget a huge blow, and this was only two weeks into our international travels.
  4. Boat crap is expensive. Sure, we anticipated having issues with the boat in our first year, as all cruisers do, and budgeted for that. But the issues and expenses we have had far exceeded our expectations. Getting the boat hauled out twice in the first year – once in the Abacos and once in Turks – no bueno.
  5. One positive moneywise that I will say is that, while a lot of people recommended budgeting more in the first year for staying at docks, to get more used to living aboard and giving yourselves some breaks, we really didn’t find the need to do this. We loved staying at anchor, and save a couple of short stops where air-conditioning and cable seemed like Christmas morning, we were completely happy living off the grid. The boat had a lot of problems, but it also rocked it in a lot of ways that allowed us to live comfortably without needing to “plug in.”

 

First-Year Projection: Life on the boat will be so much simpler!

Reality: Life is different, not simpler.

One of the reasons we pursued this lifestyle was to spend more time together as a family. In that respect, the biggest change would be that Aaron wouldn’t be going into the office. He would do work part-time from the boat, but would otherwise be able to participate more in daily “family life.” Certainly we’ve had more time together – how could we not – but for him, office time just turned into boat project time. There were always unsolved problems, systems that weren’t working properly, parts that needed to be replaced, and on, and on, and on. And boat problems have one deadline: as soon as possible. Aaron was often working on them at daybreak, well into the evenings, and through the weekends.

Claire’s 5th birthday celebration on the beach in Georgetown, Exumas, with her bestie, Henry.

Daily life also just takes longer. A decent portion of my day is spent just in meals – making them, serving them, doing all of the dishes from them, making sure we have enough groceries for wherever we’re going next. Then there’s the laundry that needs doing, cleaning, schooling for Claire, etc. None of this is bad – I just didn’t realize before we moved aboard how much daily time would be spent “living.”

Living and traveling on the water also requires an ongoing dedication to forecasting. We live and breathe the weather. Any sail requires planning – routes, wind predictions, wave expectations, tide schedule, and potential anchorages. And once we’re there, a constant monitoring of conditions is always in the background of what we’re doing.

 

First-Year Projection: These close quarters will drive us crazy!

Reality: This really wasn’t a problem for us.

We were fortunate in that, when we decided to do this, we already had an idea of what living together on a boat would be like, thanks to the month-long summer trips we took on the Pearson for three years. But, with those, there was always a definitive end-point, which changes your thinking. On Clarity, once we got past the initial unpacking and storing of everything we had brought from Chicago, we settled in comfortably. The only times I’ve felt confined on the boat were when we were stuck on board for days due to bad weather, unable to even go topsides, and when the boat was completely torn apart down below to troubleshoot a problem or work on a system.

Don’t get me wrong – life on board hasn’t been perfect. We get short with Claire, we get short with each other. But the further into the year we got, the better we were able to recognize when Claire just needed to run off some steam on the beach. Or when Aaron and I were arguing and all that was really needed was some time away from each other and the issue would disappear or work itself out.

Aaron and I are also both aware of making sure we each have the space to pursue our own things, especially when we’re in a place that affords us the opportunity to do so. Here in the DR, it’s been yoga mornings for me and evenings at the pool hall for him.  Have I mentioned yet that we love it here?

 

First-Year Projection: Having no break from Claire will be hard.

Reality: Yep.

This was one of the hardest adjustments, at least for me. I was anxious about transitioning from Claire being in preschool three to four days a week and having ample babysitting options to basically a childcare desert. Sometimes, I don’t even notice it – we just go on about our daily life and I forget. But other times, we would do anything for a break, for her to go somewhere, even if just for an afternoon. I think it’s healthy to check out of being parents every once in awhile.

Schooling has been another part of the challenge. Claire is a bright kiddo and it amazes us every day, how quickly she learns and how much she picks up from the world around us. Hopefully our lifestyle is helping out in that regard. But we are also gaining even more respect for teachers. It’s hard to play that role for Claire one minute, and then be mom or dad the next. As I’m sure is the case for a lot of 5-year-olds, some days, she’s great about it. Other days, it’s a fight – and Claire knows how to push all of our buttons, hard.

Aaron threading the reefs (the dark patches in the background are a few of countless) in the Turks and Caicos

One thing we should have done more this year is arrange some kid swaps with other cruising families. We were extremely fortunate to meet other kid boats almost everywhere we went, and it would have made so much sense to offer to take their kiddo for awhile so they could have some time to themselves, and then in return been able to drop Claire off for an afternoon and get some time ourselves also. Why didn’t we do this more?! I have no idea. We did make getting together with other cruising families a priority, though, and that alone was helpful – the kids with other kiddos to play with, the adults able to do some adulting.

Claire has also been witness to some tough times for Aaron and me this past year, when we were really struggling with boat problems or rough passages or things just not falling into place. That is another challenge – always having a little person around to hear every single word or experience every single mood. (We can’t even fight by ourselves! Ha!)

Here in the DR, we have Claire signed up for kindergarten at a local Montessori school in Cabarete from Aug. 21 through Nov. 1, possibly later. Monday through Friday, from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. It’s not cheap (although it’s a lot cheaper here than it would be in the States), but we thought she would really benefit from experiencing the culture here with other kiddos, from learning for a few months from other authority figures, and from the schedule that a school day affords. We have secured a short-term lease on a nearby condo on the beach and will briefly be landlubbers in an area we’ve already come to love.

Claire’s school time will also allow Aaron and me to work more hours, to get some time to ourselves, and for all of us to recharge a bit before we’re back on the boat full time after hurricane season.  Aaron plans to take up surfing and get back to scuba diving, and I plan to crash the yoga retreat that neighbors our condo building as much as possible and also become a ukulele master.

 

First-Year Projection: Being away from our friends and family will be extremely hard.

Reality: Yes – BUT – we were able to stay more connected than I thought.

This was another one of my biggest fears as we moved aboard. My family and my friends are the most important things in my life (aside from our little immediate family, of course), and I had come to rely heavily on my support network.

I also realized that my relationships were primarily based on one-on-one interactions. Think about it – when was the last time, aside from family, that you carved out time for a long, catch-up phone call with a friend? Or took the time to send them a long email?

Connectivity in foreign countries was also embarrassingly a bit of an unknown for me. I was pretty sure it would work itself out, but I didn’t know how.

Our cell plans with T-Mobile have been a lifesaver, at least for me. Though phone calls are an upcharge with price dependent on where we are, we have unlimited texting and unlimited (3G-speed) data. We’ve been able to text regularly with friends, set up free Skype and Facebook Messenger calls when schedules allow, and yes, as you know, check Facebook/Instagram/etc regularly. It helps me feel less isolated from the goings on of everyone back in the States.

Another misconception of the cruising life by those who are less familiar is this idea that we are out on our own, in the middle of nowhere, all alone. Sometimes we are in the middle of nowhere, but we are hardly ever alone. There are a lot of people, including families, who are living this lifestyle and we are a tight-knit group. We become fast friends and if anyone needs anything, we are there to help – sometimes almost too eagerly. The cruising community is nothing short of amazing.

 

First-Year Projection: This life is going to change us.

Reality: Tenfold.

This past year has been the hardest of my life. It’s also been the most rewarding, the most life-altering, the most transformative. I’m pretty sure those things go hand in hand.

Conch shells on the first beach we set foot on in the Abacos, Bahamas, after our Gulf Stream crossing from Florida.

I have more faith in our marriage than ever, and it’s not because life has been perfect. We’ve had our fair share of ugly fights and ugly crying, but one thing we’ve never given up on is each other. I already thought Aaron was a pretty rad dude, but being a witness to the dedication he puts into this boat and this family has been awesome, in the pure sense of the word.

I also sometimes need to remind myself of how far I’ve come. Before we started this chapter, I had never spent a night at anchor (can you believe that?!). I’d never sailed in a squall. I’d never done an overnighter. I’d never driven a dinghy. So, so many firsts that now barely even register, we’ve experienced so much.

I’ve learned that schedules are for the birds, that things don’t go to plan, that you will continue to be tested – especially if you think you can’t handle anything else – and that the rewards are immeasurable, both big and small.

On the bad days, I want to throw in the towel and give up. But I never do. And experience has taught me now to wait until we’re out of the immediate problem to make any lasting decisions about the future. Sleep-deprived and seasick, I may lament to Aaron, “I’m done! I’m shot.” But I’m not! How can I be? This life, this crazy life, has pushed me so far out of my comfort zone, it’s exhilarating, and addictive. I want to keep pushing to become the best version of myself.

My priorities have shifted and my needs have changed. God, do I miss Starbucks coffee and long, hot baths – conveniences not only in the availability of goods, but the dependability of services. But they’re not really needs, right? We can make do – happily – without them.

To me, the time we spend together as a family, the travel, the new cultures, far supersedes the balance in our checking account.

I used to be so concerned with how I defined myself. By my profession? By being married, having a child? By being an adventurer?

The truth is, who cares?! At least right now, I really don’t. While we were back in the States, a good friend said something to me in passing – something that surprised me and also resonated so deeply. She said, “You seem much more self-assured, more confident.” And I am! – that this is the life I should be living. That this is where I belong.

 

I have no idea where my mind will be at a year from now. I have no idea where our boat will be a year from now.  But I know that I’m here right now, in Luperon in the Dominican Republic, writing this blog post with the breeze from the trade winds breaking the midday heat, with Aaron and Claire back on the boat a short dinghy ride away, doing school, playing legos, preparing dinner, or maybe doing nothing at all.

In Love With the DR

The Dominican Republic for us has been like a once-in-a-lifetime romance: you fall in love fast, and you fall in love hard.

Maybe it’s because we limped into this country beaten down and losing hope. But I think it’s because the DR is magical in such a pure, well-rounded way that isn’t limited to beautiful beaches (though those are here, too).

The DR oozes life and offers a diversity in terrain and ambience that’s staggering. In a handful of miles, you can travel from a tranquil fishing town to rolling farmland to lush mountains to pulsing watersport enclaves. The people are friendly and welcoming, the cuisine is delicious, and the price is right.

This place has been totally unexpected and exactly what we needed – so much so that we’ve changed our cruising plans. We originally planned to make a brief stop here on our way to Puerto Rico for hurricane season. But after just a few weeks here, it became clear that breezing through town on the way east would never be enough time. We also realized just how much protection from hurricanes the Luperon Bay offers – much more than the marinas in Puerto Rico – and it’s a much, much cheaper option.

And, a few of the amazing cruising families we met in Georgetown are here and are also staying here for hurricane season. Being able to spend more time with them, and have Claire spend more time with her favorite cruising buddies, sealed it for us.

With the boat safely tucked away in Luperon, we rented a home in Cabarete for a week and will fly home to the States next week to visit friends and family and take care of some technological needs (like fixing Aaron’s computer and replacing his phone, both of which got fried on the crossing here).

The next four or five months promise everything we need to refuel: a break from the boat, a trip home, and the excitement when we return of traveling a country we’ve already come to love.

Life is good.

Bye-Bye Bahamas, Hello Turks

Aaron checking sail trim en route to Mayaguana

Life on Clarity has been vastly different in the last few days – a change that we’re soaking in, and also having trouble wrapping our heads around.

We spent almost two months in Georgetown and near the end, it truly felt like we would never get out of there. Not that we didn’t love it – we did – but it was a long time for us in one place. Too long. We finally dusted off the proverbial cobwebs and set sail a week ago to Long Island for the night. The next morning, we pulled anchor and sailed 33 hours straight, past the Acklins, to Mayaguana, the eastern-most island in the Bahamas. It was our longest sail to date, and it was perfect. The winds, for the most part, were steady, and we were able to sail the whole way without turning the engine on. The night shifts were a dream, with a full moon lighting the horizon.

After after a delicious dinner of freshly caught Mahi with our friends on Upside Up, who buddy-boated with us there from Georgetown, we wished them well on their sail to the Dominican Republic and prepared to take advantage of the weather the next day and sail the rest of the way to the Turks and Caicos. It was only 40 miles away, but a whole world of difference that I’m still having a hard time comprehending.

The cut into Turtle Cove Marina was tricky one, to say the least. The darker colors you see in the water here are all part of the coral reef, and the waves you see crashing in the distance are at the wall of the reef. The marina sent out a guideboat to lead us safely through the winding path, which at times was not much wider than our boat itself.

We’ve spent the last four days in Providenciales (referred to as “Provo”), and it’s been almost the complete antithesis of our lifestyle for the past four months. For one, since anchoring out the first night to stage for high tide the next morning, we’ve been staying in a slip in Turtle Cove Marina. The options here in Provo for anchoring are limited, so a marina was the best option. Also, we knew we wanted to rent a car for a few days and tour the island – all much easier to do when it’s just a step off the boat, rather than a dinghy ride to town.

Right – a car! What is this amazing thing known as convenience and quick traveling? I’d all but forgotten what it’s like to make a plan to go somewhere and get there in minutes. Provisioning has also been an absolute dream. Not having to cart the groceries back in the dinghy in garbage bags to protect them from getting drenched with salt water on the ride back to the boat is like a trip to Disneyland for us. Not to mention that the grocery store here is the closest we’ve seen to those in the States since Marsh Harbor in the Abacos, albeit at island prices.

We’ve also managed to eat our way through town. Thai, Chinese, Indian, gourmet food trucks… We’ve probably (happily) gained five pounds each. The cuisine in the Bahamas was fried conch, period – and at prices just as high as here, or comparable to restaurants in Chicago or New York City.

There are also – wait for it – paved roads, highways and sidewalks! Sidewalks did not exist in the Bahamas, at least in any of the areas we visited. It was every man for themselves, and the local drivers did not exactly follow the pedestrians-first rule.

Sunset at Turtle Cove

BUT – as amazing as this all sounds – YES, CIVILIZATION! – I’m already feeling the pull to move on. We’ve come to realize that here in Provo, it’s as if affluent suburbs in the States were picked up and transported to an island. The Turks and Caicos are considered the British West Indies, and they are their own country – however, their currency is the U.S. dollar.

We’ve been to almost every area of this island, and I have no true sense of any culture other than American tourist. The beaches are crowded with people and lined by resort after resort. And the experiences have been commercialized to capitalize on the tourism industry. Care to visit the conch farm, or the plantation ruins? A fee per person. Want to visit the neighboring island to see the native iguanas? A considerable fee per person just to set foot on the beach.

This isn’t necessarily a bad thing – certainly, the tourism industry is the lifeline of the islands. But to put things in perspective, we could have experienced any of these things in the Bahamas – visited an old plantation, frolicked with iguanas (do iguanas frolic?) – but at no charge, and likely with very few other people in the same anchorage, if any. They just offered a more authentic experience – something we crave in this lifestyle.

Claire enjoying the silty sand in the Five Cays settlement in Provo

In the interest of full disclosure, though, we have only been on one island so far of this 40-island chain. I imagine that Grand Turk, where the capital is, is very similar, as it is where the cruise ships dock. Likely, some of the other islands offer a more subdued experience – but we won’t have the opportunity to visit many of them.

To clear immigration and customs here in the Turks and Caicos, the cost is $100 for seven days ($50 to clear in, $50 to clear out). After that, you are required to pay $300 for up to 90 days – whether you stay for eight days or 89 days, the price is the same. And the fees to clear in and out still apply.

As we’ve spent the last four months in the absolutely beautiful islands in the Bahamas, we’re eager to set sail for our next port of call – the Dominican Republic. We will first visit Luperon, and we’re not sure how long we will stay there, or in the DR as a whole. But it will truly be a new culture, more so than anything we’ve experienced to this point, and the terrain will be breathtaking in a whole new way – mountains, waterfalls, rain forest. I absolutely cannot wait.

In the meantime, we are making the decision today or tomorrow to get the boat hauled out here for a few days for a bottom job (the days on the hard won’t count against our time here), or just start staging south. Getting the hull painted is something we need to do at some point this summer anyway, so if not here, we’ll do it in Puerto Rico.

For now, I’m sipping iced coffee at my favorite coffee shop here before I return our rental car. I’ll grab one more case of the locally brewed beer. And I’ll take one more blissfully hot and long shower at the marina before we cast lines tomorrow.

It’s the little things, isn’t it? I’ve come to appreciate living without them, and treasuring them.