We get the question all the time: “What do you DO while on the boat?” And that can be a rather difficult question to answer. Somehow we are always busy, and in fact we’ve become adept at being busy at such activities as sitting still and gazing off into space, surfing the internet in the bar with a cervesa bien helada, or sleeping. Lately we have actually managed to do a lot of real work and yet we feel somehow like we’re never getting anything done. We returned from our US trip with a lot of parts and we’ve been installing/replacing new bits here and there, doing small epoxy and varnish/touch-up jobs, and a lot of scrubbing and cleaning out of nooks—cramped, poorly ventilated, and hard-to-reach nooks, need I mention. We have not, incidentally, done any painting. Yet. The boat looks like absolute hell too.

In order to make our painting situation somehow more manageable, we bought the epoxy paint thinner made for our paint (which required, of course, a special trip to San Salvador as well as an entire day to do it) and a lot more miscellaneous painting accoutrements like disposable brushes (because one whiff of that thinner and it’s clear that no sane person would dip a gloved pinky tip in the stuff for meager paintbrush cleaning). We did not, as discovered upon return to the estuary, remember to buy one of those painting trays. Figures.

Yesterday we finally beached the boat on a sandbar in order to complete, at last, our sanding. I have to admit that I was apprehensive about beaching the boat despite assurances by everyone that it was a piece o’ cake. It actually was. The rush of the outgoing tide left our mini-keel as well as the four stilts we used to keep the boat from tipping to one side buried about a foot in the sand. Very, very stable.

Not surprisingly, Joshua found about a million square feet of hull surface that desperately needed scraping and sanding that we missed somehow our first go-around. It was a nice clear and bloody hot as hell sunny day for us too. We were going to beach the boat again this morning to complete the remaining scraping and sanding (because no, we did not finish, fer fecks sake) but woke up this morning to rain. Optimists we are, so we moved the boat into beaching position and waited for the rain to stop and it to be blazing hot like normal. It started raining harder; a downpour, really. (The hell?) At the last minute with maybe six inches under the rudder we decided to abort mission and give it up for the day. We’ll try again tomorrow.

This past week, in our earnest preparation for preparing to start painting the boat, we have been using our generator a lot. The generator is a small bright yellow little guy. When not in use, it lives in a gray Rubbermaid plastic box thing that hangs out on deck someplace (on one of the trampolines or something). I used it the other afternoon and put it back in the box and then put it down in the aft pocket of the trampoline (near the edge of the boat, but in a deep nook); I even tied it to keep the top from somehow flying off if a wind came up.

Late the next afternoon, Santos (the guy who had been watching our boat for us while we were away) came by with a completely confused look on his face asking, “Did you put your gray box on my boat?” We couldn’t figure out what he was getting at and he asked again, “Where is your generator?”

At this point we were beginning to figure out what he was getting at. Our eyes darted all over our boat seeing NO BIG GRAY BOX. We panicked for a second; “Our generator has been STOLEN!” we declared, all business. I tried not to think about how terrible it was that now we will not be able to sand anymore while Joshua hopped in the dinghy with Santos, who was still trying to explain something in English but was too confused to get it out, and they roared off at top speed for Santos’ boat.

A worried look upon my brow, I paced about the 28 inches that is our galley floor and then glanced over at Santos’ boat. The box was there (!) and Joshua and Santos were maneuvering it onto the dinghy; it obviously had something heavy in it. Like a generator.

And so it turned out, someone stole our generator but only took it 250 feet and ditched it on Santos’ boat. Precariously, too; they didn’t put it in the cockpit or anyplace out of sight, but simply on the edge of the deck. What the hell?!

And the stupidest part was that we didn’t even notice that it was gone, let alone hear it being taken even though only a wall of 3/8th inch was between my ear and the generator nook. Needless to say, we were immensely relieved to have it back so very intact, and that it didn’t fall into the water to spite our negligence.

So what happened and why? We have absolutely no idea but some theories have been bandied about.

1. Someone simply stole it. Sneaked up on our boat during the night or early morning and carefully untied and lifted the box free from its nook on our deck. Then, um, decided they didn’t really need a valuable generator—had a change or heart perhaps—and wanted to give it back. But then forgot which boat they took it from so they guessed and screwed up, putting it back on Santos’ boat instead. Or else they were too lazy to go all the way back to our boat and put it on a different one. Um, or something. Why not: Because what sort of ninny goes through stealing a generator just to abandon it a stone’s throw away?

2. Someone stole it but their mom told them to return it. And they were a good boy and took it back. To the wrong boat. Why not: It just seems unlikely that someone would show mom their freshly stolen generator if they thought there was a chance she wouldn’t let them keep it.

3. There is a conspiracy to frame Santos. A few weeks ago, someone stole an outboard off of one of the boats (stole-stole it, not just stole it to leave it on a nearby boat) and this created quite the morning VHF radio sensation. An alarmed call by the owner went out bright and early on the radio, everyone in the estuary listened in and chimed in with [non]information and suggestions, and a couple of people charged off in their own dinghies to conduct a search of the estuary for the missing dinghy and motor. Soon enough, the motorless dinghy was found abandoned on a mudbank nearby; heroes were rewarded, etc. Santos thinks someone took our generator and planted it on his boat assuming, foolishly, that we would actually notice its absence and call out a similar radio alarm. In this scenario, the ensuing search would find the generator perched on Santos’ boat and even if we personally didn’t believe that Santos stole our generator (obviously he would have to be drunk and insane to not at the very least put it below), the general radio mayhem could place him in very unfavorable light with the rest of the boaters. This theory is further supported by the fact that there is something of a rivalry between Santos (who does odd boat jobs) and another guy on the estuary who provides boat services. Again supported by the fact that Santos has been on the receiving end of a lot of very curious pranks lately aimed at hurting his business and family. Again supported by allegations that more than one person on the island saw this ‘rival’s boat in and around the scene of the crime (not with the owner aboard however, but with some of the owner’s workers). Why not: Because this rival dude would have to be even more batshit crazy than we could possibly have imagined to hatch this plan.

4. Someone stole it and Santos somehow found out and told them they had to return it. The thief said no way can they just return it so Santos said to leave it on his boat and he would deal with it later. He did, made up the ‘I just found it’ story and that is that. Why not: Because there was simply not enough time for this to happen. Also, Santos is *really* obsessed with theory number 3 and won’t shut up about it.

5. Jenny Greenteeth did it. Mistook the generator box for a delicious small child. Why not: Well, why not?

This stunning work of amature nature cinematography was taken on the islands near Chemela Mexico. It’s been sitting around waiting for me to learn how to use the video editing software. You can also just download the video (3.5 MB) if you’re having trouble with the embedded player.

Here’s an old picture from Tulúm, Mexico. I once dreamed of building a house out of 1.75 liter bombay saphire bottles because of the square shape and the color. I had collected about 8 or so before I realized that it would take a very large number to build a house. The four of us (Brad, Shanti, Cheyenne and myself) and our friends just couldn’t drink enough to realize my goal. I finally gave up all together and threw them out when I discovered that the light blue color was just a plastic wrap on a clear bottle.

Back by popular demand (hi Mom!).

1. Spanish food from La Nacional/The Spanish Benevolent Society in Chelsea (14th Street between 7th and 8th Avenues). Mediocre mostly. But very authentic in that it felt just like you picked out some random tapa place in Madrid and had a not terrible but not excellent meal. We ordered sangria made with cava, which was the best part. Further research into the place reveals that it has been around since 1868 and is in fact the oldest Spanish restaurant in New York; also that Garcia Lorca himself used to hang out there during his stay in New York. I feel as if I should have liked it more or else spent more money and tried the paella or something. Read poetry in that back room whilst getting wasted on amontillado…

2. Expensive martini at the Art Bar in Chelsea. It had been a very long time since I had a martini. This one was like $8.50 or something (probably normal by now but it was still a shock coming from Central America) but it was very good. And large. I made a mistake in ordering a second and wound up stumbling back to the hotel.

3. Weak coffee with far too much half and half. This was only the first of many creamed-out coffees we got in NY and elsewhere. What is it with the East Coast? These folks are afraid of black coffee. Not only that, but most places do not let their customers manage their own coffee condiments. We had launch a huge fuss to get it black or else deal with the consequences because “just a wee teeny bit of cream only please” or “no cream at all” doesn’t mean squat. We accompanied CJ and Adam in their morning quest for a cheap deli serving breakfasty stuff. In New York you don’t have to walk far, even for cheap, and we ended up in this odd place that featured an ‘Egg on the Roll’ special. CJ and Adam ordered a somewhat sketchy looking breakfast so Joshua and I decided to just go with coffee, which as I mentioned, was mostly half and half. While CJ and Adam ate, we were entertained by some crazy dude who was not satisfied with the deli selections and brought in his own meat. “See this? This here’s corned beef. See? It’s good!” This while he is shoving slices of the stuff into his mouth and gesturing with an additional piece at the counter guy. “Now I want you to make me an Egg on the Roll with this corned beef.” The counter guy refused and there was much nervous laughter on his part, meanwhile the corned beef dude stomped around the place ranting some crazy shit. After a lengthy tirade, he went with the Egg on the Roll minus the corned beef but he was sore about it. So sore that he took the sandwich and then made a stink about paying. There was more nervous laughter. Finally he left, after chucking a dollar at the counter guy. Then we left.

4. Cheap cheese. Ohmygod. Sage derby is only like $10 per pound here and real manchego from the actual country of Spain is even cheaper. I spent nearly 20 minutes in front of the cheese counter agonizing over which to buy to go with our baguette.

5. Street giros near the Rockefeller Center. Good. Cheap.

6. Sushi from Sandobe (167 1st Ave., East Village). Adam researched inexpensive yet good sushi joints in our neighborhood and by the time Joshua and I made it back to the hotel he had decided upon a place called Sapporo East. By the time we walked there, there was a huge crowd and the waiting list was fairly long. We began scoping out neighboring places and decided to take a chance on a newish looking Korean/Japanese place across the street rather than die of starvation in the window of Sapporo East. Food (nigiri): good for the most part. Granted, we hadn’t had sushi for so long that we were beside ourselves just to be served such a variety of raw fish, but the majority was really good. Standouts were the hamachi and sake; totally not a standout was the saba, which was marinated too strongly and texturally unpleasant—too stiff and dry. Fish slices were really large but the rice was not as good as I would have liked—not enough flavor and the sushi chef didn’t put that dab of wasabi under the fish like they normally do. Adam ate primarily rolls and reported that they were definitely better than average.

7. Insanely expensive bagels and cream cheese. Bagel prices have definitely gone up since I last bought bagels. I’ve heard a million things about the splendiferousness that is a New York bagel and well, they sort of seemed like most of the bagels I’ve had before, so hmmm; maybe I don’t know what makes a New York bagel special, aside from the price.

8. Cafeteria at the Metropolitan Art Museum. Way above average cafeteria with a large variety of stuff. Watch out that you don’t build yourself a twenty-dollar salad though. Joshua observed a woman who built a huge plate of cucumber and pineapple chunks, which seems weird when there are so many other very exciting things you could choose like duck and pine nut salad or various marinated antipasti.

10. Sapporo East! (245 E. 10th St.) After a short wait, we got in (it was just Joshua and I this time, a week later). Food was very good; the rice was prepared better here and included the dab of wasabi under the fish. We ordered the fried oysters, which I know seems out of season, but breaded and deep fried (mmm) and we hadn’t had them for so long, we couldn’t help ourselves. They were good but not great. Nigiri was all very good. Standouts were the saba, which was really excellent thankfully—it is one of my favorites, and hamachi; not standouts were the ‘whitefish’ (not sure which one and it was not in Japanese on the menu) and maguro, which looked good but had a bit too much connective tissue in it to be perfect. Fish slices were again very generous.