Here at an internet cafe in Key West, just posting a few photos, catching up with “real” life. I don’t particularly want to because that usually means I have to make big girl decisions.

Hate those.

I’ve been working on Mother Cramer (aka our boat, in case I never mentioned it). Yesterday Kat Conway and myself climbed all the way to the top of the mainmast and tarred the heck out of the stays while perched on pretty much a swing. It was pretty crazy cool. And I’m not going to lie, there were moments such as the one where I had to actually get myself from the mast to the swing, dangling precariously feet from me, when I thought “Oh… shit.”

I’m sad that some of my shipmates are missing out on some of the really great moments here refitting Mother Cramer. I honestly think this should be part of the program. Bonding with the crew and focusing on the ship has really brought everyone together in a way not really possible while in the whole “student” mode.

Gotta run, I’ll try to get myself to the internet sometime before Friday, but don’t be surprised if I can’t. After all, I’ll have all the time in world for internet after next week. Right now, I’m just going to enjoy this world I’m living in, for as long as I can.

This is a story about the people you meet when you travel. Their faces etched in photographs vainly attempting to capture one moment forever. A desperate attempt to hold on to people and places that you will mostly likely never see again. They are fleeting moments and encounters — a glimpse when all is set and done.

When we travel, we run into memories that we hope to remember when we’re old and done with life. We hope to remember the people who were kind to us, who loved us despite not knowing why they shouldn’t.

Amidst the poverty, I have seen no despair. I’m afraid to lose the stories about the people I have met. I’m afraid to forget the faces, the words.

Mrs. Margaret was an older lady who worked at the Whim Plantation. Her hair was tightly wrapped in a tall, white scarf. The scalding heat of midday prompted me to walk inside the plantation house after a tour, just to ask is there was anywhere I could get water. Free water, because I’m a spoiled person who is used to getting free tab water, I guess.

Mrs. Margaret said there was no free water, but bottled water could be purchased from the gift shop. ‘Eh,” I said, lying “I don’t have any money.” The heat not being as debilitating as to make me part from money. Yet the comment was all that Mrs. Margaret needed to offer me a dollar to buy the water. So there I was, mortified that I had unintentionally created a situation in which I, the tourist, the traveled American, was receiving money from a local woman in St. Croix. My cries of refusal fell on deaf ears. The more I declined, the more she insisted, reproaching why I would so adamantly not I accept money from her. What was wrong with her money? Why should she not offer it to an overheated, seemingly poor student? She argued that she was a mother and grandmother, and she understood.

I took her $1.

She wished me a Happy Easter. Along the way, I’ve found people capable of uncompromising kindness to strangers who have no right to receive it, as I had no right to receive Mrs. Margarate’s $1. Yet I did, and when I thought about it later, I wondered about the zeal behind such actions, the dutiful faith to a being that has promised eternal salvation for a lifetime of kindness. Is religion what moves the wonderful people I’ve met? With a predominantly Catholic population, the Caribbean people are certain very religious. Almost every building in Samana, Dominican Republic, had writings painted on the outside of the houses or stores with saying like “Christ is good. He is coming”, “Christ is love. He is the reward.”

This is just one example of the stories I’ve thought about, remembering the people who I have met. There are so many.

I did not get a photo of Mrs. Margaret because I had to leave quickly, so she wouldn’t see me crying.

Here are my vain attempts at remembering people who I’ve met and places I’ve seen.

Hello there, still alive and having breakfast in Samana, Dominican Republic.

I’ve been living in another world. Seriously. It´s hard to explain how different life on board a moving ship can be. The rules are all different, from how you eat, to how you speak (it´s another language), to how you sleep, walk, shower, everything is done differently. And it’s easy to constantly feel like a total idiot.

But as you stumble on deck for night watch, and you look up at the starry sky. A sky so full of stars, that you cannot help but to stop for several minutes and wonder how you ever lived without experiencing it.

And then you have bow watch, which is an hour of standing at the very forward part of the boat, by yourself, communing with the wind and maybe God if you choose.

Those are the quiet moments in between taking down sails, often in the middle of the night, with nothing but a net separating you and the deep, black ocean.

I have so many stories to tell, and I´m doing my best to keep them in my journal to eventually share. I´ve met so many amazing people, and I´m often been moved by the kindness of random strangers who have nothing to gain but a shared moment with you. The only moment.

Don’t have much time, so for now I’ll leave you with some photos! Enjoy and catch you in Port Antonio, Jamaica maybe in about 10 days!

Here you go Mel, a picture of me. Enjoying the water in St. Croix.

Mother Cramer. She speaks to you!

For my Lugano peeps. Hot Rum hat is on!

This is what the saloon looks like. It’s where we eat and some sleep. You can see Tim B creeping out from his bunk. The tables are built on gimbals, which move the table back and forth with the movement on the boat. Pretty cool, but it can be nerve racking to see the table slope so much that its entire contents might end up on your lap.

In St. Martin and in Dominican Republic

Los Haitises. We went kayacking here. More picture later on!

Super adorable kids in the mountains on the Dominican Republic. Notice crocs.

Playa del Rincon

Alright, heading out to explore more of Samana, maybe get a little R&R. Lord knows we get very little of that while on the boat. But I’m becoming a complete sailor, from weather expert to getting some sea legs. PS, its down to two students (myself included) who have not gotten seasick. I think that is pretty good. We will see if I can hold on to that title.