As my SEA travels fall further back into the irretrievable past, it is a struggle to remember the details, the nuisances of every day life while anchored in Dominican Republic, or docked at the marina in Jamaica. While traveling, your brain is in such overload mode, with new information, sights, sounds and smells all around you, it is easy to forget the name of that one restaurant or person.

And then when you’re back to real life, sitting at your office desk, you regret not writing more. You regret not making that effort, at the end of everyday, to write down every experience while it’s still fresh in your mind.

I meant to sum up every stop along my trip, with details on where we stayed and ate, yet as I began the following post on Puerto Rico, our first stop on the way to meet the ship, I struggled to remember the details. What was the name of that one corner shop where Sarah and I ate deep-fried goods and empanadas? Did we really eat empanadas, or were they some other deep-fried delicacies? I remember it had a somewhat out-of-context name like “Fast Mart” or something that sounded like you could get your car washed there too.

Here goes my best attempt at recapturing our stay in San Juan, Puerto Rico…

Early on, I remember being surprised at how cheap the flights were from Boson to San Juan. I was even more surprised that it was American Airlines who had the cheapest flight. I usually end up having to pay more for flights with them, just to get the miles.

We were meeting the ship in St. Croix, but all flights seemed to connect through Puerto Rico, so, ever the explorer, I said why not stop there for a few days? It was very worth it: the history, the architecture, the beaches…

As is always the case, our budget was limited, so I looked around online for hotels that were cheap and clean. I must have spent days worth of hours scanning hotel reviews sites and reading conflicting reviews on different hotels. Also, finding a hotel room for three people is harder than you might think. I would specifically search for a room for 3 people, yet the result rooms/prices didn’t include that third adult. It was very frustrating. I ended up booking through booking.com, which assured me that the price they quoted me included ALL fees and taxes. Guest what, it didn’t. And when you get to your destination, it’s hard to argue about it, even if you show the email you got. I get the impression that it is these booking websites that fudge the numbers and outright lie to customers.

So, needless to say, I don’t recommend booking anything through them.

The hotel, Sandy Beach Hotel (I don’t think they have a website), on the other hand was nice, quaint, and right by Condado Beach. It had a lovely Spanish-type courtyard in the middle of the building, from which you could hear the surf breaking on the beach. It had A/C, a TV which we didn’t really watch, and it was clean and comfortable. The one downside: the water pressure was pretty appalling. Keep in mind that Condado Beach is a very touristic area, so most restaurants and bars (and even the CVS) will be overpriced.

Di really liked the decor at Sandy Beach Hotel. Spanish soldier’s lamp, not plugged in.

On our second day there, as we waited at the bus stop, we were lucky enough to share a ride to Old San Juan with a lovely family. Our first stop was Castillo San Cristobal. We walked around the dungeons, the courtyards, and stared at the beautiful waters surrounding everything. I’m a history enthusiast, particularly this time period. So I found it incredible to be walking on the same structure from which sailors and soldier defended the entire Caribbean region, San Juan being such a crucial geographical location for seafaring trade.

Inside Castillo San Cristobal

A drawing of a ship possibly made by a Spanish Captain held in the dungeons of Castillo San Cristobal. The captain was subsequently hung for mutiny. Or because graffiti was not taken lightly.

Spanish Soldiers’ kits hanging in their locker room at Castillo San Cristobal.

Then we walked around Old San Juan, as in a dream, surrounded by the absolutely amazing Spanish architecture. I’d poke my head into the different buildings and see most of them had these courtyards typical to the colonial time period. Oh, to live in such a building and city full of so much history. We ate at a little restaurant, and the waiter (a tour guide on the side) tried to persuade us into booking a tour with him to hidden little beaches outside the city. Since we only had very little time in Puerto Rico, using an entire afternoon for that instead of continuing to explore San Juan didn’t seem like a good trade off. Also, walking is free, tours are not.

Sarah Dixon takes one of the seven photos she snapped during the whole trip.

A ton of walking occurred. And finally we ended up at El Morro. Again, another incredible, huge fort. I believe the difference between the two forts was the San Cristobal was more to defend the city from land-attacks, whereas El Morro really focused on destroying enemy ships as they approached the island.

On the left, where the canons would be positioned and aimed at enemy ships. On the right, the intricate, multi-level Morro fortress is an impressive architectural feat.

Narrow tunnels led to the different lookout turrets.

On our last evening there, we were enjoying the beach when it started getting dark. Di and I infiltrated the Marriott’s pool, which opened up into the beach, to do some more swimming. A little harmless expeditions into enemy territories, even if those happen to just be a hotel’s pool that we’re not staying at.

A few tips to pass along:

• If you can help it, don’t ride the bus. Routes do not run very often, so you might wait at a stop for 40 minutes or more, and of course when it gets there, it’s crowded and uncomfortable.
• Traffic is pretty bad, particularly around Old San Juan, so keep that in mind if you decided to take the Trolley that circulates the area.
• Cab fare from the airport to your hotel is determined by what ‘zone’ your hotel is in, plus how many bags you have. It’s pretty organized, you stand in the taxi line and wait your turn. That said, on your way back to the airport, you can definitely negotiate a better price.

I find that often enough, I go traveling places and say to myself, “why am I not living here?” And when I think of returning I think in terms of just living there for a while. Maybe I will return to San Juan, find myself a little apartment in Old San Juan, get a job as a tour guide and drink Maracuya juice while experiencing the living history all around the island.

For now, back to reality means back to work at an office desk job, because dreaming doesn’t pay the bills.

At least, not yet.

The SSV Corwith Cramer anchored in Samana Bay.

The great things about Los Haitises is that it is striking to the fashionable ec0-tourist interested in the finer details of the ecosystems in the Dominican Republic, but also to the casual ‘I-just-want-to-go-kayaking’ tourist. Being a combination of those two, I relished the beautiful tropical forest, the countless limestone keys and mangroves while kayaking around it all. A lot of information thrown our way was made the more interesting by our knowledgeable and friendly guide, Wilfredo.

The thing about Wilfredo, and most guides I encountered, was that they were not faking cheerfulness or interest. If they get tired of saying the same thing to tourists over and over, you can’t really tell, because they truly seem to enjoy explaining the surroundings, history and overall knowledge of their country. They seemed to get honestly excited about your excitement.

Wilfredo pauses to explain the greenery surrounding us.

Following our kayaking jaunt, we proceeding to caves within the keys, filled with giant stalactites and stalagmites. The formations inside the cave have unfortunately been tampered by years of tourist- and even reality TV-traffic — Petroglyphs and graffiti adorned the walls along with spiders that can have you dead in minutes.

The Dominican Republic personifies the contradictions about the Caribbean. With its amazing blue waters and natural resources a short boat ride away from Samana, a city lacking basic infrastructure, where most citizens live without running water. Yet one thing that never failed us in our travel was the warmth of the people, who don’t dwell on contradictions or ironies. A couple of days is not enough time to truly savor the beautiful region of Samana, and when you’re there, you worry about when you won’t be. You’ll wonder “how can I continue living without the mangroves and the palm trees and the water?”, and that’s when you realize that you will, inevitably, return.

After a few minutes of chatting, the conversation turned, as it inevitably did, to ice cream. Let’s be clear about something: one of the themes of the trip was HOT. Not hot. HOT. Oftentimes, you’d wake up in an embrace of sweat and, sometimes, rusty water from leaks in your bunk. While on port, one of the ways we placated the beast of heat and humidity was with regular offerings of ice cream. And conveniently enough there was an ice cream shop a short walk away from the Marina.

Di couldn’t go all the way there, but I offered to get her some ice cream. The Marina had a worker, whose name escapes me, who we’d see often cleaning around the pool area. He would always inquire about Tim B. with “hey, where’s my friend?” He offered to drive us to the ice cream place in the Marina’s golf cart.

It seemed like a sensible thing. I mean, ice cream can only last so long, and even a short walk would’ve turned it into a milkshake. So off we went, Tim B., myself and the Marina worker, riding past groups of people, some we knew, some we didn’t, in our unstoppable quest for a refreshing future.

Ice cream bought, I immediately realized: this is not good. We hadn’t even left the store and it was dripping. Yeah, yeah, I could have chosen a cup instead of cone, but I’ll be dammed, that was more money. And when money is represented to you in terms of hundreds of (Jamaican) dollars, well, everything just sounds more expensive than it probably is. So we try to rush back. Our Marina friend jumps on the golf cart, I’m riding shotgun, Tim B. holds on to the back for dear life and off we go. We’re flying by at maximum golf cart speed. Children jump out of the way, old people are perhaps run over. We will never know. The ice cream drips unmercifully while I hold it as far away as possible from me. The wind is making it worst, it melts rapidly, a trail of ice cream tears.

Di probably enjoyed about half an ice cream, because the other half was either on my hands or on Jamaican pavement.

I suppose it’s funny to envision what it must have looked like to innocent bystanders.

The worker at the Marina, who kindly participated in that spectacle was a funny, cheerful guy. He liked working at the Marina because that way he got to meet worldly people, he said. He’d like to do some traveling since he had never left Jamaica, but as it stood, being around people from other countries gave him a glimpse of far away places — far away places that he perhaps realistically knew, he would never get to see.

The reality is funny moments often overshadow the bad. Di, above, surely enjoyed her milkshake.

What I remember today is not the squeegeeing of floors and cleaning heads every three days. What I remember is

JP wearing foul weather pants and harness but no shirt or jacket. Sauntering all day with a kiddie toolbelt during my Assistant Engineer day with Tom. One time when Lis was lookout and she totally missed a giant cargo ship till it was right next to us, and she comes walking back to the quarterdeck “hm, so I think you guys have seen this but there’s a ship right there.” Ha, too funny.

Aliza asking who was with her on the fire hose during the Man Overboard drill. Hint: No one. Tim B. trying to wash the shower curtain in one of my favorite incidents (that I should post about at a later time, but trust me it was hilarious). And the time Jamaican rappers in Port Antonio cornered him for HOURS so he’d buy their album. He did.

The time these fools were holding on (and getting a free ride) from Chelsea and mine’s kayak while we were unawares. And Chris falling off his kayak wearing his pirate hat and getting towed by Ashley.

Me whispering to Ashley, who lived in the bunk above me: “Hey Ashley, Ashley, I can’t see if you’re in your bunk but just so you know, there’s a mattress coming your way.” That one time Kat Conway was being Kat Conway. Or when she was 30 degrees off course because of a conversation about The Office. “Oh God, oh God, 30 degrees off, help me”.

How about the one time in rough seas when Sarah Dixon utterly refused to let go of her two snacks in order to hold on to something? Or Jeff poking his head out from the aft cabin window going “booby? where?” in response to someone saying they thought they had seen a brown booby.  And James arguing with an Assistant Scientist that an English String Vest was indeed a shirt and therefore within the bounds of lab rules (and decency).

There were so many more hilarious moments, and I thought that was a great way of representing the way Caribbean people seemed to live. Wherever I traveled, I encountered cheerful people who despite a trying history and circumstances, live bitterness free. Maybe people chose to remember the beautiful waters and weather they get to experience everyday, instead of the bad roads and lacking infrastructure.

After a break in my adventures, I hope to be back in Arizona on Wednesday to continue the next phase, whatever that might be. What I have realized is that I truly feel a connection with traveling, and talking and listening to people’s stories while documenting it all is some way.

Either way, whatever happens, it’ll be the next step in the adventure. For now, I have missed going to concerts, so hopefully while in Phoenix, there are some good bands playing in the area. Maybe at the Cave Creek Coffee Company. I could use nothing more than a Southwestern themed, cozy night under the stars with a live performance from an acoustic, folk artist.

Maggie Magster and Tim A. look into the dusky blue Caribbean Sea.

Sunset over Saba.

A sweet moment between Sarah Dixon and Aliza in the Maroon community of Jamaica.

I have started a running list of things to do and people to call/email to catch up with. For now I’m focusing on the web projects that I had to put on pause before the trip. Then I’m figuring out some job options on the horizon. Thanks to everyone who has given me leads on things happening at their papers.

Photo by Jeff Schell.

Here I am at the helm while going through the Haiti/Isle de Tortue passage. It would be cool to have a little get together in PHX when I get back. I could hook up the computer to a big screen TV and have a little viewing party with all my peeps there. It’d be a swell way to see everyone and share photos and tales of the high seas.

It’s good to be back, but I don’t know. I miss Cramer and my shipmates. Before we went to sea, we were warned that it usually takes some adjustment coming back to land. I thought that was baloney. Now though, I realize how true that statement turned out to be. Through all the good and bad, that was our world, and to not be in it… Well, it’s weird. The things that mattered, the boat checks, the wake-ups, the bells, are meaningless on land. I guess it’ll just take some time to figure out once again what are the things that matter.

On the course yard. Photo by Maggie Welch.

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.