Articles

The pace of life aboard Convivia has shifted. The hectic days of boatyard stress are behind us, as are the days in the Marina, fixing those last few (critical) systems. We’ve found a sleepy beachfront to anchor in front of and, with no transportation, have settled into leisurely days of kids floating beside the boat, easy conversation, and no plans to speak of. This transition to cruising-proper is one that you can’t see but in hindsight. I think it started three or four days ago when we returned our scooter. It was given a boost by our recent depletion of funds, which strengthens our resolve to stay put. We’ve got another kid boat nearby (Quasar) so ours have a friend to occupy the day. They come home exhausted and hungry, and crash out early, leaving plenty of time for Vick and I to play games and share a couple of ciders. ...

Thailand feels like cruising again. Our pace through Australia was breakneck, and Indonesia was challenging. Most of Malaysia felt like a race to the boat yard, and then there was that two month job. I thought Langkawi would feel like cruising again, but it ended up feeling a bit more like a boozy purgatory. The second we dropped the hook on Ko Tarutao I felt months of tension drain out of me. It didn’t hurt that this was about the time when Olive discovered that she could talk endlessly about Minecraft to me if she rubbed my back and feet. It’s been amazing in many ways. ...

Our time in the boatyard was so long and the spectrum of emotions so vast, that I decided to make it into a little slideshow video. Enjoy!

We had an Uber driver recently that asked us if we would be in Penang for Thaipusam. He was part way through forty days of preparation, fasting, celibacy and not shaving in advance of this important Tamil Hindu holiday commentating the God Murugan, representing goodness over evil. Because our stay in Penang was much longer than we anticipated the kids and I had an opportunity to witness the celebration. In Penang, thousands of devotees follow a procession of a chariot to the Sri Mahamariamman Temple carrying small pots of fresh cow’s milk as offerings. Other devotees observe by piercing their skin with small hooks or large skewers and carrying large kavadi on supports around their shoulders and waists. ...

We have been in the boat yard for two weeks now. Things are moving along at the expected pace (slower than I would hope, but reasonable for this oppressive climate). The boat is covered, and has its first coat of primer. The propeller shaft is off, the old swim ladder (which has been held captive by the Monitor for years now) is being removed and welded over. While we have the hull exposed, we are also adding glass around the keel (about 6mm at the widest point) and removing some blisters. ...

Continued from here Trying our luck, in this case meant speaking entirely in Indonesian, asking around for someone who might have a surplus, and then negotiating the purchase or trade without the benefit of local currency (which we had divested ourselves of in Belitung, as we were intending to leave the country). While we were attempting to nap, a precocious pre-teenager named Chandra paddled up in his dugout, asking for books, water, and/or footballs. We offered a few gifts, and then I asked (sensing his “can do” personality) if he could help me find solar (diesel). With the help of Google Translate, I learned that he could help, but only if I came with him right then. I hadn’t slept a consecutive 3 hours in the last 72 and the prospect of undertaking such an adventure was daunting, to say the least. ...

The last 72 hours have been some of the most surreal, exhausting, and exciting of my life. I wrote about some of the first two days’ highs and lows here. The following night and day were just as full on. Things started out calm enough that I thought I might just watch a movie on my first watch. I was into a really high tension scene in Fury when I looked up and saw buoys all around. I had just scanned the horizon moments before using a combination of binoculars and a high powered flashlight. ...

In every other place that we’ve spent an October 31st, it has seemed like the holiday would at least have been heard of. Port Villa, maybe less so, but they get enough expats and tourists, that maybe someone spilled the beans. And indeed, when Ruby traipsed through the markets with her fairy gown and Vanuatan headdress feather, it was taken as cute, at worst. Here on Pulau Parang, it is quite clear that our foreign holiday would be about the most mysterious and possibly offensive sort of festivity. So we decided to have a quiet celebration between the two boats (Peregrine and Convivia). Last night we got together (sans Vick, who was feeling ill at the time) and made arepas, and fried eggs, baked potato wedges, and watermelon drinks, while painting each other’s faces, and carving… you guessed it (no you didn’t) watermelons. ...

For the past four years Vick has not driven a motor vehicle of any sort. Today that streak ended. We picked up scooters and hit the roads of Karimunjawa to explore. No ID or paperwork was required, just a little cash and we were good for the day. We didn’t have gas, helmets, or even maps, and it wasn’t entirely clear that the scooters would start (p.s. they often did not). Google doesn’t show roads here (could be because most of them really are not actually roads). We had SO much fun!

I don’t know what exactly it is about passagemaking that brings out these feelings but it’s so common as to be a phenomenon. Despite the sleep deprivation, and subtle (and sometimes acute) hardships of crossing hundreds of miles of ocean. Despite being cramped in a small, often roughly rolling vessel with two lovely but demanding children, I often find a moment, or a long string of moments where I am just so overwhelmed with gratitude for my great good fortune that it feels transcendent. ...

We take birthday wishes seriously in Convivia. We keep presents small and homemade, as the real celebration is in the cake. Cakes are dreamed up layer by layer, often years in advance. Olive wishes for her eighth birthday were a stuffed mouse, a watch, pizza for dinner, and a caramel, chocolate, marshmallow and chocolate ganache layer cake. All of her wishes seemed totally reasonable thanks to my mom sending a birthday watch to us before we even left Brisbane. I had a stuffed mouse pattern on board, along with fabric and stuffing. I stowed a stash of Belgian chocolate under my bed in June and in Darwin I packed into my teeny tiny fridge the cream, butter, and mozzarella necessary for the big day. Somewhere along the way Olive decided on a bigger wish, “I want to see dragons on my birthday.” ...

We are sailing off the beaten path a bit in Indonesia. We skipped joining a rally and are making it up as we go along. Our pursuit is for language and connection, fresh food, day to day life, green coffee beans, handmade fabric, some snorkeling, and volcanoes. I don’t remember when I first saw a photo of Kelimutu but it has been one of my must-go destinations. Kelimutu is a high (1639 meters/ 5377 feet) volcanic mountain on Flores, deep inland near a small village called Moni. It last errupted in 1968. There are three enormous crater lakes filled with thickly pigmented water that changes color over time. Local lore says that spirits go to the lakes, and which lake a spirit is assigned to depends on the age and character of the person who died. There is one lake for young people (Tiwu Ko’o Fai Nuwa Muri- Lake of the Young Men and Maidens), one for old (Tiwu Ata Bupu- Lake of the Old People), and one for the thieves and murderers (Tiwu Ata Polo- Bewitched or Enchanted Lakes). Photos I had seen of Kelimutu were just stunning, I have a bit of an ongoing desire to see volcanoes, and since I was going to be in this part of the world I needed to figure out a way to go. ...

In Bahasa Indonesia, Selamat means “Congratulations” and Jalan means “to go” (or “road” or “walk”, but work with me). Together these worlds (Slemat Jalan) mean “Goodbye,” but as we saw the words pass above us on a number of arches in our descent of the mountains from Kelimutu, I couldn’t help find the literal translation amusing; “Congratulations on going.” This little side trip definitely threatened, several times, to not let us go. ...

“Where are you from?” they ask us. “Where is your home in America?” “How long was your flight?” It is difficult to answer and it is hard to explain in our few basic phrases. Our home has been only the boat for more than five years and San Francisco, California is written on the transom, so it’s the best answer we can offer. I think the true answer may come when I start to feel homesick. It’s the big latte at Cafe Fanny on a cold Saturday morning. It’s the vegan yuba roll ups at the Berkeley Whole Foods Market, eaten in the car after making it through the busy store. It’s the endless vegetables at the Berkeley Bowl. It’s the carne asada tostada salad at Picante Taqueria. It’s Acme bread’s big round walnut loaf worth the long lines at the Mountain View farmer’s market. It’s the roast beef sandwich I crave from Whole Foods. It’s that smell in the air in the Penny Ice Creamery. It’s the dark chocolate salt caramels at Recchiuti. Maybe home is the San Francisco Bay Area after all. ...

Nobody likes getting ripped off and, for whatever reason, it hurts me on a personal level. At the end of the day I feel that the money I have paid was worth the service I received, but I was seriously chaffed by the way I was treated. When I arrived on the beach here in Kupang, I had just about no information about how to proceed through clearance. I had read the few sparse pages in our guidebook, and had one additional number to call for a local agent. I had already paid an agent for our CAIT (AU$260) and 60 day Social Visas (AU$280 for four of us). And when the local agent here approached me on the beach and asked for US$150 I said “too much.” She insisted that this was the standard rate, and no matter how much I negotiated I was in a weak bargaining position and felt forced to concede to her rate. I later found that even the US$100 I was asking for, was more than the going rate. ...