Christmas 2010 in George Town
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Lydia Fell
Dec 29, 2010, 12:49:05 PM12/29/10
to flyingpiglog
December 27th, '10
Kid Cove, George Town
I can't believe that we’ve been here in George Town for nearly three weeks, already. We fill our days with “maintenance” chores, whether it’s grocery shopping, laundry, keeping our water tanks filled (which is a major feat, hand-toting it in from a spigot in 5 gallon containers until we’ve got 320 gallons back in our tanks), or fuel runs to keep our gas tanks full for the Honda generator. In between the daily routine, there’s bread to bake (which takes the better part of a day), and meals to plan.
Since I’ve never enjoyed cooking the way other people often do – losing themselves in the sheer meditative joy of chopping, sautéing, creating beautiful aromas and delicious flavors – and because I have a less than negligible gift of creating anything in my galley besides clean counter tops, trying to figure out what to eat each day is hard for me. It’s getting increasingly more difficult now that we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel of provisions we filled this boat with in August ’09, and more often than not, we’re eating beans and rice in some version or other, or soups. I’m incapable of following a recipe book; I can’t figure out whether it’s because I am nearly always missing some ingredients, or whether I just don’t want to do what I’m told. So, every now and then, when I cook up something especially tasty, it’s hard to repeat because I have no idea what I did to arrive there.
Fortunately, Skip will eat absolutely anything, and tell me with conviction that it’s delicious. Further, he’ll eat the same meal night after night until we’ve reached the bottom of the pot with a smile on his face, and everlasting gratitude. Tonight, I’m going to do a stir-fry with garlic and onions, and eggplant and mushrooms, because they need to get used up. Tomorrow, I’ll make the biggest pot of soup that I can so that I get a reprieve from thinking about cooking for at least 4 days.
And, filling in the activity gaps, there’s always volley-ball on the beach for Skip in the afternoons, during which time I’m either socializing with friends, or off in a warm corner, reading. (The number of books that we’ve read since we’ve been cruising is, to me anyway, staggering. Reading is our “virtual reality”, and while we have different tastes in the kind of books we read, we’re never short of something “good”, and we are thrilled to have the time to do it.) And then there’s yoga – always yoga when I find a patch of sand and sun, with or without others – and walks along the beautiful beaches.
This hasn’t exactly been bathing-suit weather; breezy days in the 70s, and nights in the low 60s. But the sun is nearly always out, and lifting my head with eyes closed towards its brightness and its warmth is enough to fill me with utter peace and joy. For me, it’s the drug of choice.
On the Winter Solstice, Skip awoke just before 3 am when there was still a sliver of moon left during the lunar eclipse, and gently woke me up. We lay there in our bed, watching the sky through the large 2’x 3’ open hatch over our head, awed at the gorgeous copper color of the moon, and thinking of the fear of men when they saw such a sight 2500 years ago. To them, it must have been a “sign”, a galactic anomaly staged by the gods for interpretation of a Life Event. It seems incredible to me that there were whole societies of people in Greece, for instance, who waged battle from their sophisticated Navies, but yet, who had no understanding of the science that’s been discovered since then. Much as we complain about it, the stress endured by the working population today doesn’t include raw fear of “signs” in the sky, or the frantic interpretation of how and whether that’s going to affect our shelter, our hunting ground, our very lives. That the eclipse took place on the Winter Solstice for the last time in my, let alone my children’s, life time made it a humbling experience. I’m grateful that we had brilliant, clear skies to watch it through our hatch, lying under warm covers with no neck strain; a gift indeed.
I attended a women’s luncheon one afternoon which was held at a nearby restaurant – a wonderful opportunity to meet other women cruisers. We all brought a small gift, anonymously wrapped, and began the game of drawing numbers to see who was first to choose a gift from the table. Subsequent gift recipients could either keep their gift, or take the gift another women had chosen. If your gift was “stolen”, you had the opportunity to pick off the table again. By the time my turn came, I chose from the table, and was more than delighted to unwrap a beautiful hand-made basket with a simply gorgeous sea bean necklace in it. Clearly, this was the best gift anyone could give me, and I was bordering on hysteria when another woman “stole” my gift. To cut a long, anxiety-ridden story short (as I repeatedly lost, and regained, and lost my basket again), I eventually traded another excellent gift (fresh lobster tails, speared by a fellow cruiser!) with another woman to get my basket and necklace back. While we were playing this game, lunch was eaten, washed down with a couple of glasses of wine, and it was a great afternoon of fun.
My gift was from Julie on S/V Sequel, who painstakingly wove the basket herself from local palm fronds – a past-time I’ve tried, but am simply unable to generate the patience for. George, Julie’s husband, polished the hamburger bean until it was smooth as glass and mirror shiny, using a sanding Dremel, gradually increasing the fineness of the sandpaper until a polished finish resulted. As my family knows, I’ve also polished sea beans, but never to George’s level of finesse, which rendered the hamburger bean a veritable jewel. Thank you, Julie and George for your treasures!
The George Town cruising community grew quickly as Christmas approached, with daily arrivals of new boat crews who braved large seas and big swells to get here, and were grateful to drop their anchors and stow their seasickness meds. Some of these cruisers have been coming here for 30 years; some are here for their first George Town experience. I use the term “experience” because this community is unique to cruisers, in that there is much organization and lots of politics, both of which are generally an anomaly in the cruising population. Cruisers, by nature, are independent, free spirits and generally prone to attitudes “outside the box”. Trying to organize them could be likened to herding cats; they are not only disinclined to be directed by others, but are also disinterested in playing Shepherd. However, there are exceptions, and those few who are gifted with organizational skills and who make George Town their “second home” for the winter season, do their best to organize numerous and varied activities for the enjoyment of all. Those who wish to get involved are welcome, and encouraged; those who don’t anchor off one of the other quieter beaches. This leads, ultimately, to individual groups or “cliques” who choose their anchorages with like-minded cruisers, and for the first-timers in George Town, it sometimes takes a while to find the right group to align themselves with to suit their comfort zones.
And so, it was expected (and hoped by me) that someone with organizational skills would figure out some Christmas festivities, and we weren’t disappointed. A very practical approach to Christmas dinner was put in place; picnic tables held 10 to 16 cruisers per table, and each table figured out a potluck between them. Skip and I were on a table with great cooks, and while our dinner wasn’t traditional, it was simply delicious with home-made chicken and ham pies, stuffing, pork curry with fresh mango chutney and rice, two different potato salads as well as three-bean and corn salads, out-of-the-oven-warm baked bread, several desserts and plenty of wine. Everyone over-ate and lounged around like beached whales until late in the afternoon with, no doubt like us, early bedtimes. It was a wonderful day of meeting new faces, catching up with old friends, and to top it off, the weather was absolutely perfect.
The night before, on Christmas Eve, about 70 cruisers dinghied up to Hamburger Beach for Caroling and Lessons around an open fire and a huge table of desserts. Once the Christian part of the celebration was over, the guitars came out and the genre moved to Crosby Stills and Nash, the Beatles and James Taylor. It was such a wonderful evening of singing that several of us were reluctant to leave, but Skip had an obligation with the choir at the Anglican Church in George Town for midnight service, and we headed back to the boat by 9.30 pm. As it turned out, I encouraged Skip to abandon the trip to George Town (we were anchored over on Stocking Island, a very long, wet ride away from town) because his cold had an accompanying low grade fever, and he really needed to be in bed.
Prior to the caroling, a group of 8 of us met for choir practice several times on S/V Eleanor M (a beautiful 43’ Hans Christian sailboat), and had a really uplifting time, singing carols in 4 part harmony, even on pitch! It was truly enjoyable to be singing again, and we had the two Garys accompanying us on guitars. Since we were all essentially sitting in a circle, we could all hear each other well, which unfortunately isn’t the case when you’re lined up on a beach, singing into the wind. Not to worry – it was all festive and good fun. With several talented musicians here this year, Skip is hopeful of getting a barbershop quartet together, an endeavor which has failed in our previous two visits here.
The Christmas festivities culminated in the Boxing Day Junkanoo Parade in George Town. “Junkanoo” is a derivative of the 17th century African slave master and trader, John Canoe, who (some legends have it) persuaded his owner to allow a holiday for the slaves on Boxing Day. The parade was complete with floats, dancers in amazing costumes, and lots of low brass, cow bells, and oil drums which create an African style, mesmerizing beat. It’s quite unlike any kind of parade I’ve seen before because of the endless dancing and the drumming; a treat we made sure not to miss. It was really cold last night when we went, so we climbed into our full foul weather gear (albeit, with bare feet in Crocs!), and joined the crowds lining the streets, most of whom had the expected (and accepted) open containers. It was a wonderful way to usher out Christmas for another year. Time, now to take down my little Christmas tree, too.
I’m sure there will be some sort of New Years festivities in George Town to enjoy when the time comes, but for now, I’m going to run to the grocery store to get the celery I need for the soup I’m making tomorrow. There was none left when I went shopping yesterday, but the boat is coming in today with fresh groceries - a twice weekly occurrence. Once that little detail is achieved, we'll be good to go for a week, and we’ll go over to Hamburger Beach to re-anchor. There are so many places to walk over there, and a beautiful beach for yoga.
Wishing you all a perfectly wonderful New Year. Mine is going to be especially fruitful, with Patrick - another, wonderful son (in-law) - joining our family and a new baby grandson, who arrives in the spring. I feel so incredibly fortunate, and blessed.
Love, Lydia
Kid Cove, George Town
I can't believe that we’ve been here in George Town for nearly three weeks, already. We fill our days with “maintenance” chores, whether it’s grocery shopping, laundry, keeping our water tanks filled (which is a major feat, hand-toting it in from a spigot in 5 gallon containers until we’ve got 320 gallons back in our tanks), or fuel runs to keep our gas tanks full for the Honda generator. In between the daily routine, there’s bread to bake (which takes the better part of a day), and meals to plan.
Since I’ve never enjoyed cooking the way other people often do – losing themselves in the sheer meditative joy of chopping, sautéing, creating beautiful aromas and delicious flavors – and because I have a less than negligible gift of creating anything in my galley besides clean counter tops, trying to figure out what to eat each day is hard for me. It’s getting increasingly more difficult now that we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel of provisions we filled this boat with in August ’09, and more often than not, we’re eating beans and rice in some version or other, or soups. I’m incapable of following a recipe book; I can’t figure out whether it’s because I am nearly always missing some ingredients, or whether I just don’t want to do what I’m told. So, every now and then, when I cook up something especially tasty, it’s hard to repeat because I have no idea what I did to arrive there.
Fortunately, Skip will eat absolutely anything, and tell me with conviction that it’s delicious. Further, he’ll eat the same meal night after night until we’ve reached the bottom of the pot with a smile on his face, and everlasting gratitude. Tonight, I’m going to do a stir-fry with garlic and onions, and eggplant and mushrooms, because they need to get used up. Tomorrow, I’ll make the biggest pot of soup that I can so that I get a reprieve from thinking about cooking for at least 4 days.
And, filling in the activity gaps, there’s always volley-ball on the beach for Skip in the afternoons, during which time I’m either socializing with friends, or off in a warm corner, reading. (The number of books that we’ve read since we’ve been cruising is, to me anyway, staggering. Reading is our “virtual reality”, and while we have different tastes in the kind of books we read, we’re never short of something “good”, and we are thrilled to have the time to do it.) And then there’s yoga – always yoga when I find a patch of sand and sun, with or without others – and walks along the beautiful beaches.
This hasn’t exactly been bathing-suit weather; breezy days in the 70s, and nights in the low 60s. But the sun is nearly always out, and lifting my head with eyes closed towards its brightness and its warmth is enough to fill me with utter peace and joy. For me, it’s the drug of choice.
On the Winter Solstice, Skip awoke just before 3 am when there was still a sliver of moon left during the lunar eclipse, and gently woke me up. We lay there in our bed, watching the sky through the large 2’x 3’ open hatch over our head, awed at the gorgeous copper color of the moon, and thinking of the fear of men when they saw such a sight 2500 years ago. To them, it must have been a “sign”, a galactic anomaly staged by the gods for interpretation of a Life Event. It seems incredible to me that there were whole societies of people in Greece, for instance, who waged battle from their sophisticated Navies, but yet, who had no understanding of the science that’s been discovered since then. Much as we complain about it, the stress endured by the working population today doesn’t include raw fear of “signs” in the sky, or the frantic interpretation of how and whether that’s going to affect our shelter, our hunting ground, our very lives. That the eclipse took place on the Winter Solstice for the last time in my, let alone my children’s, life time made it a humbling experience. I’m grateful that we had brilliant, clear skies to watch it through our hatch, lying under warm covers with no neck strain; a gift indeed.
I attended a women’s luncheon one afternoon which was held at a nearby restaurant – a wonderful opportunity to meet other women cruisers. We all brought a small gift, anonymously wrapped, and began the game of drawing numbers to see who was first to choose a gift from the table. Subsequent gift recipients could either keep their gift, or take the gift another women had chosen. If your gift was “stolen”, you had the opportunity to pick off the table again. By the time my turn came, I chose from the table, and was more than delighted to unwrap a beautiful hand-made basket with a simply gorgeous sea bean necklace in it. Clearly, this was the best gift anyone could give me, and I was bordering on hysteria when another woman “stole” my gift. To cut a long, anxiety-ridden story short (as I repeatedly lost, and regained, and lost my basket again), I eventually traded another excellent gift (fresh lobster tails, speared by a fellow cruiser!) with another woman to get my basket and necklace back. While we were playing this game, lunch was eaten, washed down with a couple of glasses of wine, and it was a great afternoon of fun.
My gift was from Julie on S/V Sequel, who painstakingly wove the basket herself from local palm fronds – a past-time I’ve tried, but am simply unable to generate the patience for. George, Julie’s husband, polished the hamburger bean until it was smooth as glass and mirror shiny, using a sanding Dremel, gradually increasing the fineness of the sandpaper until a polished finish resulted. As my family knows, I’ve also polished sea beans, but never to George’s level of finesse, which rendered the hamburger bean a veritable jewel. Thank you, Julie and George for your treasures!
The George Town cruising community grew quickly as Christmas approached, with daily arrivals of new boat crews who braved large seas and big swells to get here, and were grateful to drop their anchors and stow their seasickness meds. Some of these cruisers have been coming here for 30 years; some are here for their first George Town experience. I use the term “experience” because this community is unique to cruisers, in that there is much organization and lots of politics, both of which are generally an anomaly in the cruising population. Cruisers, by nature, are independent, free spirits and generally prone to attitudes “outside the box”. Trying to organize them could be likened to herding cats; they are not only disinclined to be directed by others, but are also disinterested in playing Shepherd. However, there are exceptions, and those few who are gifted with organizational skills and who make George Town their “second home” for the winter season, do their best to organize numerous and varied activities for the enjoyment of all. Those who wish to get involved are welcome, and encouraged; those who don’t anchor off one of the other quieter beaches. This leads, ultimately, to individual groups or “cliques” who choose their anchorages with like-minded cruisers, and for the first-timers in George Town, it sometimes takes a while to find the right group to align themselves with to suit their comfort zones.
And so, it was expected (and hoped by me) that someone with organizational skills would figure out some Christmas festivities, and we weren’t disappointed. A very practical approach to Christmas dinner was put in place; picnic tables held 10 to 16 cruisers per table, and each table figured out a potluck between them. Skip and I were on a table with great cooks, and while our dinner wasn’t traditional, it was simply delicious with home-made chicken and ham pies, stuffing, pork curry with fresh mango chutney and rice, two different potato salads as well as three-bean and corn salads, out-of-the-oven-warm baked bread, several desserts and plenty of wine. Everyone over-ate and lounged around like beached whales until late in the afternoon with, no doubt like us, early bedtimes. It was a wonderful day of meeting new faces, catching up with old friends, and to top it off, the weather was absolutely perfect.
The night before, on Christmas Eve, about 70 cruisers dinghied up to Hamburger Beach for Caroling and Lessons around an open fire and a huge table of desserts. Once the Christian part of the celebration was over, the guitars came out and the genre moved to Crosby Stills and Nash, the Beatles and James Taylor. It was such a wonderful evening of singing that several of us were reluctant to leave, but Skip had an obligation with the choir at the Anglican Church in George Town for midnight service, and we headed back to the boat by 9.30 pm. As it turned out, I encouraged Skip to abandon the trip to George Town (we were anchored over on Stocking Island, a very long, wet ride away from town) because his cold had an accompanying low grade fever, and he really needed to be in bed.
Prior to the caroling, a group of 8 of us met for choir practice several times on S/V Eleanor M (a beautiful 43’ Hans Christian sailboat), and had a really uplifting time, singing carols in 4 part harmony, even on pitch! It was truly enjoyable to be singing again, and we had the two Garys accompanying us on guitars. Since we were all essentially sitting in a circle, we could all hear each other well, which unfortunately isn’t the case when you’re lined up on a beach, singing into the wind. Not to worry – it was all festive and good fun. With several talented musicians here this year, Skip is hopeful of getting a barbershop quartet together, an endeavor which has failed in our previous two visits here.
The Christmas festivities culminated in the Boxing Day Junkanoo Parade in George Town. “Junkanoo” is a derivative of the 17th century African slave master and trader, John Canoe, who (some legends have it) persuaded his owner to allow a holiday for the slaves on Boxing Day. The parade was complete with floats, dancers in amazing costumes, and lots of low brass, cow bells, and oil drums which create an African style, mesmerizing beat. It’s quite unlike any kind of parade I’ve seen before because of the endless dancing and the drumming; a treat we made sure not to miss. It was really cold last night when we went, so we climbed into our full foul weather gear (albeit, with bare feet in Crocs!), and joined the crowds lining the streets, most of whom had the expected (and accepted) open containers. It was a wonderful way to usher out Christmas for another year. Time, now to take down my little Christmas tree, too.
I’m sure there will be some sort of New Years festivities in George Town to enjoy when the time comes, but for now, I’m going to run to the grocery store to get the celery I need for the soup I’m making tomorrow. There was none left when I went shopping yesterday, but the boat is coming in today with fresh groceries - a twice weekly occurrence. Once that little detail is achieved, we'll be good to go for a week, and we’ll go over to Hamburger Beach to re-anchor. There are so many places to walk over there, and a beautiful beach for yoga.
Wishing you all a perfectly wonderful New Year. Mine is going to be especially fruitful, with Patrick - another, wonderful son (in-law) - joining our family and a new baby grandson, who arrives in the spring. I feel so incredibly fortunate, and blessed.
Love, Lydia
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