Yesterday we sold the Cisne.

After a year abroad in attempt to live at sea, we are returning to land lubber status in the Bay Area. Our intention to travel by boat could be described by some as a total failure, but I prefer to think of it as a transformative life experience.  This new chapter will find us dedicated to creating a life with fulfilling, meaningful and location independent work. If achieved, the new scenario will allow for extended world travel, sometimes including a newer model and somewhat functioning sailboat, preferably someone else’s, that is, until we strike it rich.

The past year and a half  has been an adventure, albeit not the one we planned. We envisioned ourselves becoming seasoned sailors when approaching new anchorages and marinas, instead of nervous lunatics. In our dream, we would become wild and self dependent salty dogs.

Back on land, where there’s more cured meat                     From Merida, Venezuela

When I look back on the past 15 months, I am amazed at how little control we had over where life took us. Our decisions turned out to be responses to what we were dealt, like Eddy losing his job and the motor dying, as opposed to choices like “let’s stop off in Vieques before heading to Puerto Rico”.

The surprising thing is, I think life has taken us exactly where we need to be, as opposed to where we wanted to be. Of the myriad of boat issues we resolved in the pathology of Venezuela, the motor was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Returning to land has forced us take a good hard look at all our life goals, beyond the immediate desires of travel and wandering.

While living the cruising life is a part of these goals, our focus has shifted.

As our good friend Mark said, “whatever becomes of this trip it will bring great things.”

Since this blog was titled ” Thoughts from our Floating Home,” and our next home is firmly grounded on terra firma, it seems appropriate to end it here.

Hoping that this next adventure leads us to a life worthy of writing about online. Thanks for reading and sharing!

Traci and Eddy

What will Eddy do with all this free time, now that there is no boat to save? From Merida, Venezuela

While Eddy works with developers to design the site, I’ve been busy gathering new and old contacts, talking to designers, planning our marketing and sales strategy, and figuring out the best way to finance the business. With 7 months abroad and lots of time for deep contemplation, I have a new perspective on what it feels like to do business in the U.S. It’s like playing Tetris in 3-D on crack.

Working on ToqueNet from the boat               From Los Roques

Facebook is kind of a microcosm of my generation. There are the contact collectors (1000, 2000 friends), the marketing folks who can’t help but to let their jobs ooze into their social life,  the sales reps pitching to their friends. In a a nutshell, work identity has become self-identity. Judging by the looks of my newsfeed, we are a culture who has lost touch with leisure. Somehow the race to more, more, more…something, has that feverish hamster on a wheel feeling of  playing video games. You know it’s beside the point, but you just can’t control yourself. At least the hamster is getting some exercise.

Our hope is to return to Cisne in early 2010. We have realized the cruising life is one aspect to our overarching life dreams, an end, not a mean. Due to a series of fortunate or unfortunate events (depending on how you look at it), we’ve been forced to refocus on the true means. We may have to shelf our immediate desire to live the cruising life in order to make everything we want sustainable, a realization that has been hard for both of us to accept. We’ve put so much into the sailboat;  money, time, energy, our hearts. The result has not been what we expected; to travel the world by boat for a few years. But this expensive lesson has had benefits beyond our imagination; it’s pulled us out of the cycle of too much work and not enough enjoyment of our precious time.

In the meantime I keep a copy of the 4-hour work week at arms reach, and turn to the book every time I lose site of our over arching goal: to escape the 9 to 5 and live life the way we have been the last year. We’ll keep you posted as the next turn becomes clear.

Eddy tearing it up in Francisqui                                                       From Los Roques

Harina Pan, precooked corn meal used to make arepas From Los Roques 2009

Mexicans have evolved this art tremendously. From corn comes tortillas comes tortilla chips comes chilaquiles and tortilla soup. Chilaquiles use tortilla chips, sautéed with salsa, eggs and sometimes black beans or avocado. The dish is eaten for breakfast. You would never guess it was a foil for leftovers. Old tortillas, once fried, can also become a vehicle for ceviche or huevos rancheros. Enchiladas are just gussied up stale ones. There is a version of Mexican lasagne similar to enchiladas, but layered. I could go on and on just about Mexico.

Italians turn leftover risotto into arrancini, deep fried risotto balls, often stuffed with a chunk of cheese. Leftover pasta can be made into a pasta frittata (as can leftover risotto), thrown into minestrone, or turned into pasta salad. Ribollata, meaning “reboiled” is a soup made with beans, kale and old bread. Traditionally, it is the third incarnation of minestrone. Italians are no strangers to leftovers

In Spain, the loveliest use for old bread is gazpacho. Most people have tried classic gazpacho, but a lesser known version is white gazpacho, made with peeled almonds and grapes.

In Japan, (also China and Taiwan), congee is rice porridge often eaten for breakfast. I suspect it and sushi may have first evolved out of inventions for leftover rice. Versions of rice pudding are found all over the world – with cinnamon, coconut milk, and many different varieties of rice.

Here in the Cisne galley, crostini is one of my favorite uses for old bread. Thinly sliced and toasted, these mini ovals can now be used as a vehicle for many appetizers. One of my favorites toppings is broiled feta with red pepper relish. Traditionally, french onion soup is served over a crostini with melted gruyere. A good boullibaise, or fish stew, should be served with crostini for dipping. In the summer there is bread salad, which is like salad with giant semi-hard croutons. The croutons absorb the vinaigrette. Especially delicious in the summer when eggplant, tomatoes, basil and cucumbers are in season.

French toast, as it’s called in the states, is a dish that is made just about everywhere in the world. There is no clear knowledge of who invented it, although the oldest recipe is linked to a 4th century Roman cookbook attributed to Apicius. Here’s a killer one: Stuffed French Toast with lemon and blueberries. I suppose I should mention bread pudding too, although 9 out of 10 aren’t worth talking about.

Speaking of inferior grain recipes, there is matzah. Perhaps matzah balls are a use for leftover matzah? Matzah is a bit harder to understand, since it tastes stale even when fresh. Here is an example of the leftover being clearly superior to the “fresh” product. While we’re on the subject of Jewish food, I must acknowledge bagel chips, often served along side a bowl of matzah ball soup in the better delis. Two leftover breads in one meal!

What is your favorite use for leftovers?

The brand new sink drain I installed 2 months ago is already destroyed, eaten and rusted. Our deck, also newly redone and painted, has mysterious rust spots appearing across it, especially around the hardware. For a month I couldn’t figure out why all my clothing, the stuff I was wearing every day, had red smudges in strange places. It’s from the clothespins with metal springs, since banned. All plastic only.

Despite scrubbing the silverware and stainless steel mixing bowls with scotch brite and finishing with a fresh water spray every time we wash ( we don’t have a water maker, so dishwashing is with salt water), the next time I use them the rust beast is growing again. Everything must be used, all the time. Citrus zester, vegetable peeler, bread pan, kitchen tongs and my precious precious knives, all vulnerable to the silent killer. I fear having to leave them on the boat for extended periods. Then again, I usually travel with my knives.

Everytime salt water drips on the stove, soon afterward a spot appears. It is very unnerving to spend an hour cleaning something one day to find it returned to it’s deteriorated state a few days later. Most of my battles take place in the kitchen.

Salt from the sea is carried by the wind, attaching itself to every exposed surface on the boat. Soon afterwards hairs begin to stick as well. Does anyone know a good way to clean hair? Yesterday I proposed to Eddy that we both shave our heads. He’s no fun.

Salt water doesn’t just attack inanimate objects. A few weeks back it took a liking to my husband, and had a party with friends in a tiny little cut below his cuticle. Soon his finger was three times it’s normal size. Only when he began to clean the wound obsessively, 4-5 times a day, did the swelling subside.

Eddy, preparing to stick needles in his big finger From Los Roques 2009

There are ways to use this climate to your advantage. Bread rises quite nicely, for example. At Arizmendi, my bakery in the Bay Area, there is a proofer, or rising box, set to 90 degrees. Here, the world is a proofer box. I left some red wine out with a cheesecloth over it for about 45 days, and the result smelled sweet and mild. I think I did make vinegar, but accidently spilled it all into the ocean when trying to remove the fuzzy mold from the top. More on that later. In the northern climates I think it’d be hard to create your own “mother”, or vinegar-fungus. I suspect making yogurt without a machine might also be possible.

Yeast is friendly fungus                              From Recipe Photos

In the continuous quest for friendly fungus, all ideas are welcome! (As are tricks for preventing bad fungus)

At work I used to daydream about having a backyard with fig, lemon and plum trees, and cupboards full of preserves. A few goats for cheese and bacon pigs completed the fantasy.

Little did I know that decades before my grandma years, I’d get the opportunity to let that little old lady inside of me have some fun.

Blessed with infinite amounts of free time and no paid employment, I find myself with a new challenge: eat well for as little as possible. In Berkeley the challenge had been to eat well with minimal effort.

Unlike my ficticious Grandma, I’m not yet swinging chickens, but gutting, scaling and clobbering fish to death is up there. I’ve dried the fish on deck, jarred them with oil and vinegar, and pickled them in ceviche. Last week I hammmered holes in a beautiful pink conch shell to extract the crying slug inside and eat it raw with lime and beer. The meat tastes like buttery coconut.

Sondra and conch “before” shot                    From Los Roques

Truth be told, we are still pathetic rookies at harvesting the fruits of the sea. We’ve had better luck getting seafood with cigarettes and cash than a fishing pole. Shopping in town today I resisted buying fish, forcing us (read: Eddy) to find it ourselves. We have managed to catch lobster and other docile bottom feeders, but the fish have eaten all our bait, fattened themselves on our compost, and still refuse to turn over one of their own. That is unless you count the little baby fish Eddy murdered. Now that we’ve found the tip to the speargun, things should change soon.

Eddy and his first catch                                   From Los Roques

Of all my cheap grandma pleasures, baking bread is most gratifying. It reminds me of the Arizmendi years; dark early mornings spent churning out yeasty treats, drinking too much coffee, and blaring the Scissor Sisters while the Bay Area slept. My favorite recipes on the boat are Potato Bread, Honey Whole Wheat and Lime Banana Bread. Serving fresh bread to visitors greatly increases popularity in anchorages, resulting in new friendships and the occasional companion for single crew members.

While I admit to sometimes feigning Canadian to avoid diatribes on the U.S., when it comes to Peanut Butter I’m a proud Gringa. As a way to punish us North American Imperialists, the stuff is prohibitively pricey abroad. Aboard I’ve discovered a cheaper solution, pureeing salted roasted peanuts with a bit of vegetable oil. This works at least in Venezuela, where peanuts are cheap. In my farm house someday I’ll have a the special grinder, the old fashioned one…not the one at Fancy Grocery stores. In our floating home, energy supply dictates if it’ll be crunchy or creamy.

Being that most jams are also a luxury item*, I’ve discovered how to make a quick version out of dried figs. Simmer them with a bit of water, honey, cognac, orange juice and zest, and puree.

Another staple we’ve yet to find a good version of is hot chile sauce. It’s fun to buy a fistful of the freshest looking local chiles, take them home, roast with onions and tomatoes, peel and find out how spicy they are. Even with the addition of vinegar, and a bit of sugar, some sauces must be doled out with a toothpick, while the milder ones disappear quickly, by the spoonful.

Probably the most prized appliance in the kitchen of any modern prairie grandma is the mini food processor (thank you wind generator), in close ranks with the pressure cooker. In mere half hours, with minimal cooking gas utilized, the cooker turns out beans for hummus, yuca for frying, and Venezuela’s version of Brisket, Carne Mechada.

As there are no good Jewish delis in the neighborhood, I’ve adapted my craving for old world pickles to the new world. Spicy Pickled Slaw is our new staple. This is the Caribbean’s answer to sauerkraut. Cabbage is the vegetable that hangs out in the far bottom corner of the fridge, patiently waiting for all others to get used or go bad. I have a new reverence for the cruciferous marvel. The slaw goes great with grilled meats, fish and last but not least on tropical hot dogs (hey, you can’t deny your roots). If I’m feeling really ambitious I’ll make some Ginger Beer and Potato Bread Hot Dog buns to go along with it.

Next, inner grandma hopes to tackle sourdough starter, homemade crackers, yogurt cheese and vinegar.

* Apart from gasoline, rum, and arepa flour, everything in Venezuela can now be called a luxury.

Eddy and his homemade lobster sling                                              From Los Roques

Last night our friends Sondra and Didier, came over for dinner, they brought 4 beautiful fish filets which we grilled with eggplant and rice. What a feast.

The Boat was swinging a lot at anchor:
Since we are anchored here in Francisqui the boat has been swinging terribly around the anchor, specially with strong winds, almost 90ª each way. That means that the boat is sometimes perpendicular to the wind and then swings quickly to the other tack. A boat at anchor should roughly point into the wind because that’s the least resistance configuration. Turns out that my snugger (a pice of elastic line used on all-chain anchors to absorb shocks by taking the tension from the last 5 meters of chain ) was coming out from a cleat through the side of the boat, about 1 meter aft (back) of the anchor roller which is at the very front.
Didier helped me switch the anchor snugger from the side to run through the anchor roller and the swinging was reduced to a normal degree. Amazing what a small detail like that can do. The boat moves much less, it feels much safer and comfortable.

From Los Roques

On the swim over I saw a patch of grass with caterpillars crawling around- under water! I also swam by a barracuda. I don’t like those aggressive fish. Snorkeling a few days earlier with a new friend (who had earrings on and sparkly bathing suit adornments), three barracuda cut our swim short by marking their territory and not allowing us to pass. I am still quite timid in the water, everything is unfamiliar, and to my cautious mind, potentially poisonous or dangerous. But I throw myself in hoping to be a little less freaked out every day.

We’ve started working on a website project we hope to launch soon, but Internet is practically non-existent here. Once we figure out how to get better connected we’ll be able to work more. Eddy may even take some E-lance work and get paid from the boat. It’s amazing, with technology it is possible to live somewhere totally remote and still have a city job.

Today we finished installing the staysail track, and hope to tackle the dorades, vents that bring wind into the cabin of the boat and keep leave water out. While the head of our motor is being serviced in Caracas, we’ve enjoyed a few days of smaller projects and a clean boat. The motor is in the middle of the boat, and to work on it the entry stairs must be removed, and our two largest storage spaces emptied to access it from all sides. That means it’s impossible to keep the boat clean and orderly. To date the motor project has taken one month, that’s 30 days of disorder and filth, not to mention it’s toll on Eddy’s back. For me, the dirt and inability to walk two paces without having to hurdle something have been hardest to deal with. I am much happier and at peace when the boat is clean.

I’ve already spent an hour this morning cleaning the kitchen. All the kitchen countertops have white Formica on them. I never thought I’d hate a kitchen counter top more than tile, but old white Formica might just be worse. It’s lost the seal, so every time you rest anything on the counter, even a cup with a bit of water on it, the counter stains and requires 15 minutes of scrubbing with Scotch Brite and fantastic to recover. Next to the sink is the old cooler, which could be very useful storage space if sink water didn’t drip into it and fester, requiring a weekly cleaning. Well really I should probably clean it every day, but it’s a pain in the ass. The oven, which I am very grateful to have aboard, is made of old metal and also stains terribly easy, even from boiling water.

When you move into a new home, there are always little annoyances (or bit ones) that require attention for more functional living. A boat (especially in the Caribbean, where the climate and salt intensify decay) seems to demand much more work that living on land.

From Los Roques

We’ve been here in Los Roques almost three weeks, trying to repair our broken motor. After two weeks of back breaking work on Eddy’s part, we are back at zero again, with water in the fuel line. So Eddy is working full time for no pay, but this time in paradise.

We need to decide whether to attempt the repair again here, or in Puerto Rico. The draw to staying is cheaper parts and labor. Sondra and I are desperate to be out of Venezuela, when it comes to having work done. Everyone around us in Venezuelan, and tries to convince us to stay, they know a great mechanic, workshop, etc. In over three months here, we had nary a good experience trying to find parts or competent labor. I wonder why everyone we’ve met tries to convince us to stay in Venezuela at the worst it has been? The one good mechanic we found was from the Dominican Republic.

Los Venezolanos quieren todo como mantequilla. “Venezuelans want everything easy like butter,” he said. With their abundant natural resources and weather that hardly requires much clothing or shelter, I can see what he means. Even the National staple, arepas, is the world’s easiest and most fool proof bread to make. But I disgress.

For the most part, life has become deliciously slow. For the first time my mind exists only in the present. Not long ago I can remember being one place while my thoughts were two other places. The constant race against time, working 9 to 5, running to exercise, make food, counting down the days left until the weekend, then the moments until the weekend is over. Too many references to time. A few days ago Sondra and I spend part of the afternoon watching the native black lizards eat a big berry the size of it’s head. Then we watched ants carry a dead fly. The boat keeps us very busy, a slow kind of busy that goes from waking in the morning til sleep at night.

I am enjoying the opportunity to dive into cooking a bit more, thanks to a break in boat repairs and a foodie friend aboard. We have been mostly unsucessful at fishing, except for Sondra and her cigarettes for trade. The temptation to drag a fishing line behind while snorkling is high.

From Los Roques

From Los Roques 2009

We sent the cylinder head to La Guaira with Normandia, a boat that brings the diesel that powers the electric generators of the main island. My dad picked it up and took it to a machine shop where they discovered it was badly cracked. That is great news, it means we most likely found the problem. I say most likely after learning the hard way that things on the boat are almost never as simple as they appear.

No, this is not our boat                                                                    From Los Roques

My dad already found a used replacement for the cylinder head, a shop called El Cigueñal will clean and rectify it and it should be on it’s way here within a week. I won’t get excited until the sucker is running and staying cool. Having sent the head to caracas has given me a break from the back-breaking motor work. I’ve been taking it easy the last few days and trying to rest my shoulder, which has been injured since February and aggravated by wrenching at torques of up to 8 meter-kilograms.

Yesterday we took the dinghy to the beach and swam along a shoal for about 20 min. to arrive to another beach where we were completely alone. Our exploration found us amazing structures of nature like a dry underwater sea plant exhibiting a “hierarchical interconnected mesh” and conchs finished with deep pink enamel.

From Los Roques 2009

Before yesterday we needed to use the internet and none of the boats that regularly lend us their mobile broad band or that broadcast an open wifi signal where anchored in the bay. So we packed a dry bag with two laptops and a handheld vhf radio and left on a 15 min. dinghy ride across the channel to the main island. That’s my idea of a proper commute. Our dinghy is a 10′ inflatable boat with a hard bottom and a 15hp outboard motor. We love it, it goes fast and allows us to explore the area, tow the boat in case of need and take longer trips to other islands.

From Los Roques 2009

We finally finished installing the stay sail lead track, we had already drilled the holes on deck about a week ago and every time it rained we had a waterfall on the dining table. Today we cocked the track and bolts with a 3M polysulfate sealant and fastened it with back plate and all. Almost every day we work on a project or two like this. There are literally hundreds on our list, most of them are not critical but are necessary for a safe and comfortable life aboard.

From Los Roques 2009

We’ve chosen this path in the hope that is will lead to great things. Many of the people around here don’t seem to have a lot of options, which reminds us of our good fortune even in the face of unsavory work.

It doesn’t feel right to tell it like it is, but I’ll do it anyway. Nasty chemicals, irritating substances, projects that are ten times harder than they seem to be when started, take ten times longer, cost ten times more, and when they are finished, reveal ten new, bigger problems. At least that’s how it feels most of the time. If there is satisfaction to be had on this floating disaster, it’s out of view. These days, satisfaction is somewhere between the swimming pool, the rum above the fridge and bed.

From Cisne Project

I think about the young couples we’ve met who’ve endured much harder. Julie and Slater, who moved from the UK to the Bay Area, living and working on their boat for a full year, while working on other people’s boats to save up and sail south. Ryan and Jessica, who bought a hurricane damaged (submerged, actually) boat on E-bay from Canada, and spent over two years of their young marriage restoring it in a Florida boatyard.

I think of all the boat people out there (my husband included), and how the hell it is they find enjoyment in these projects. I try not to think about what it is I’ve voluntarily sold my car, turned in my cell phone, left my job and distanced great friendships for. Hoping those answers will come at sea.

From Cisne Project