When Things Aren’t Wonderful…

On our last day in Nassau, the Captain and I ventured in to town with a few copies of my resume` in hand and “dress shoes” in the backpack to change into from my customary flip flops.  We had seen a sign for the Pan American Health Organization’s (PAHO) office during one of our previous trips and I was determined to at least make contact with them as a jumping-into-the-employment-search platform.  You see, PAHO is the Central/South American/Caribbean arm of the World Health Organization (WHO) and I had become familiar with them during my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer; my supervisor – Dr. Dorothy Blake – was a fairly accomplished mover and shaker within PAHO and was helping negotiate better HIV drug prices with American pharmaceutical companies while I worked for her.

So, with small-heeled shoes on my feet and copies of my resume` tucked neatly into my leather-bound notepad holder, I confidently walked up the staircase to the PAHO reception desk and said the first thing that came to my mind…  And totally botched any chance of making such a winning first impression that I could land a job there on the spot.  I bashed my way through something along the lines of telling her that we are sailing through the Caribbean but that I am also looking for a job and I was wondering what exactly they do in the Bahamas.  The receptionist was a sweet lady who gave me a couple of brochures about PAHO and told me that they do not have any vacancies in their office at this time.  However, I could look online and see what PAHO had in the region, then apply through the website.

Right.  I know this process… because I have done it before.

Afterward, Rob and I headed to a small area where we knew we could get internet for a while, giving me the chance to update the blog and start poking around in the PAHO website.  It was here that I found information I already knew: to apply for PAHO – or any organization with WHO as their parent organization – you have to put your profile into the WHO employment system.  I thought this would be a great opportunity to update my information in their system, giving me a better chance of hearing from them… except I had just updated all of my information not even six months ago.  Not exactly the saving step I hoped it would be.  Darn.

Something happened to me that night when we returned to the boat: for the first time since moving onto the boat, I was truly and seriously unhappy.  All I could think about was the furniture we sold and the house we left to live this part of our lives.  “This part of our lives”…  It’s really so hard to call it an “adventure” as it is many of those in the midst of some occasional boredom; but a “lifestyle” isn’t right as it is not something I want to do for the rest of my life.  But I don’t really know what to call it and, that night, all I knew was that I missed the last part of our life together.  Any of you who did a running jump into my Shaggy Bag, fell asleep in the embrace of the cushion-pillows of my couches, or came to a backyard party at the house we were renting may be able to know what I was longing for that night. 

Comfort.  Preparing dinner on the island in the kitchen, getting wine glasses (actual glass) out of the China cabinet, and eating a meal that – even though it was cooked at home – is better than any restaurant food and almost as expensive because of the fresh, fun, exotic ingredients.  Cuddling with Rob in the Shaggy Bag while watching a movie from Redbox or Netflix on the big screen through our projector.  Grumbling as I pulled up weeds from the lawn and enjoying a cold glass of anything WITH ICE as I looked around the beauty of the backyard during dusk.  Getting a beer and catching some live music in Deep Ellum or dancing all night with friends in Fort Worth.  The smell of Texas before a storm.  Having dinner with my mom, brother, and sister-in-law whenever I want to and showing up at a friend’s house/apartment/loft/whatever unannounced just to drink through a bottle of wine and talk about the weeks behind and in front of us.

In short, I missed having a home.

By that night, we had been sitting on anchor in Nassau for two weeks; I suppose we felt as though we knew the town fairly well and knew that we could not afford its expensive ways anymore.  We were waiting for the winds to be right – which meant we were leaving the next day – but I just felt like there was no end in sight to the frustration of being in a faceless city that we couldn’t afford on a boat that requires moving at least one thing to get to the item you really want (this is not usually true – it just felt like that on this particular night).  I really feel for Rob on these nights as he doesn’t quite know what to do with me because there really is no pleasing me when I feel this way.  He tries so hard and that in itself makes me feel better, knowing that this man loves me enough to say anything to get rid of my tears and frustrations.  Unfortunately, no matter what he says, he can’t change the situation…  And, even if he could, I would cry and be frustrated for a night in the new situation at least once!

So, we did what we could do to deal with this kind of a situation: we had some dinner and went straight to bed; sleep is one of the best ways I have found to escape the inescapable frustration.  The next morning, with a big smile on my face, we pulled up anchor and headed east toward the island of Eleuthera.  I can’t explain the immense relief I felt as we pointed to the east-end of the Nassau harbor and I can’t explain how that feeling eclipsed everything I had been feeling the night before.  All I know is that getting Calypso’s Fire underway was the game-changer and I knew that I was going to be happy.

That feeling lasted about 12 hours.

I bought motion-sickness wristbands in Nassau and had put them on before we even started the motor that morning with all the confidence in the world that I would feel fine all day long.  And, placebo or wonderful acupressure techniques of old, I did not feel motion sickness all day!  We raised our sails just after passing a couple of the smaller islands northeast of Nassau with confidence that our early-morning start and the forecasted winds would get us to Hatchet Bay well before sunset.  Oddly enough, we were even able to talk with the friends we had met in Marathon and hung-out with while in Chub Cay, the family aboard Lammeroo.  I think the Universe has a plan for us to be friends with them for a while…

The day went wonderfully for a few hours, giving us good time on the sailing front and a good time with one another.  And, then, just to mess with us apparently, we lost all that wonderful wind we had been promised by the forecasters.  When you have 48 miles to traverse in the 12 hours of sunlight allotted to you because the end of your journey includes entering a 50-foot opening in a rock wall which you have never seen before, your speed dropping from 4-5 mph to 1.5-2 mph is – well – not good.

At 6:30 that evening, about an hour before sunset and with land still nine miles away, the Captain and I were both exhausted from desperately trying to eek out another half mile per hour in speed and, thinking about the night we spent on the Great Bahama Banks, we felt confident that we could throw our anchor down for a nice night’s sleep.  Yeah, we were SO wrong on that (we actually found out the next day that we were extremely lucky to have had such a peaceful night in the Banks)!  For the four hours we could put up with it, the Captain and I felt the boat rolling left to right to left to right to left to right … You get the point.  It was rolling so much, it felt as though we were putting our stanchions on the port (left) side of the boat in the water for half a minute and the stanchions on the starboard (right) in the water for the other half of each minute.  Usually, I am the person who gets flustered, annoyed, and cranky when we are rolling this much; this time, it was the Captain’s turn to curse at Poseidon for our nonstop movement.

We finally made the decision at 11:00 that night to get closer to land; we could, after all, see the lights of Eleuthera and we knew that we were so close having stopped only for fear of entering the bay we were headed for.  However, there are other areas – beautiful white sand beach areas - to throw down an anchor and have some shelter from the swells close to land.  So, after sleepily motoring for three hours,  the Captain and I finally got some sleep at 2:30 in the morning, comfortably knowing that we had reached our destination (mostly) and could safely call the trip a success (but just barely).

So, while there are those Dear Readers out there who may see the journey we have chosen as carefree and one long vacation, I just wanted to give the reality check that frustrations and longing do still exist out here on the open sea.  There is no “perfect” situation except the one you are in and what you do with it.  Couches, counter space, family hugs, and friendly dinners should be treated as what they are: treasures on dry land.