Rasamanis

Nov. 5,2009 -Scarborough, Queensland, Australia

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 05:57:00 +0000

In Brisbane
Nearing Noumea,New Caledonia

We are safely tied up at the dock in Australia. We’d love to be driving in the outback but we are at a marina getting the boat ready for storage. We fly to Maine November 11, then to Seattle on November 18. We can’t wait to see family and friends. Hear about what has happened in your lives. Share our stories. Find out what’s new and learn what has disappeared during the Great Recession. Just imagine having been on a desert island for a year. Best way to reach us is at rasamanis@gmail.com.
Three weeks, three countries. Very fast for us! From Vanuatu we sailed for two days to Noumea, New Caledonia, where we spent four days. “New Cal” is a French Overseas Territory (as close to a colony as you can get in the world today.). For the French it is as far away as you can get from home and still speak French. Nickel mining is the big industry. We spent a good share of our time there undergoing bureaucratic formalities and replacing the food the quarantine officials confiscated. But it was worth the fun we had meeting up with lots of cruising friends at the dock and a nice rest from passage making.
Noumea was the headquarters for the US Command in the South Pacific during WWII and there is a monument to that right across from the downtown McDonald’s. In the Western South Pacific you get a bit of a feel for America’s commitment in the Pacific theater. Vanuatu was the main staging area for the Battles of the Coral Sea and Guadalcanal. One area – where James Michener was stationed and wrote parts of Tales of the South Pacific – housed 100,000 troops, 100 Navy ships, six airfields, 54 cinemas, and an immense Navy yard including the largest drydock in the world at that time.
We looked for tours, museums, photos, books – any signs of this massive effort. Of course, this was Vanuatu so there was wasn’t much for a tourist to see. One airfield is now an airport, the rest are jungle. There are remains of old bridges on the sides of mangrove swamps, concrete roads on an almost empty island, bulkheads along the channel, a few Quonset huts. Underwater there is the wreck of a large US transport ship that was sunk by a friendly mine and a spot where the Americans dumped everything surplus from tanks to cases of Coca-Cola at the end of the war.
The passage to Brisbane was another 5 days. The trip was uneventful with the full range of normal sailing conditions, from no wind to 25 knots on the nose as we made landfall. The most interesting part was the last night - seven hours in the very busy, very shallow shipping channels of Brisbane’s harbor, giving all our new electronics as well as the trusty old VHF radio the workout of the season.
Brisbane weather has been splendid – much more comfortable than the humid midsummer heat we experienced here in January. The marina is about 20 miles from downtown in a very quiet seaside suburb.

Oct. 16, At Sea Off New Caledonia

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Sat, 17 Oct 2009 20:42:00 +0000

Right,Presbyterian church
Below, a dance mask

In Vanuatu, Christianity is the outer layer of belief. Presbyterian, Anglican, Catholic, Seventh Day Adventist are the predominant churches, but there is also a significant evangelical movement as well as cargo cults (arising after World War II, the belief is that AImericans will return bringing vast quantities of material goods to the islands). Though Christianity wasn't introduced to many communities until the late 19th century, it has had a huge impact.

Before missionaries, we are told by the natives, the people were hunter/gatherers, lived in caves and the bush, and were always killing and eating each other. (Messengers wore special costumes to identify that they were not coming for war, but for a peaceful purpose, such as the exchange of brides.) The missionaries, we are told, changed that. They stopped the fighting and got people to live together in villages. They brought the Bible, English and French, reading and writing, clothing, and vegetables.

The missionaries were brave folk. Until 1969, Vanuatu was cannibal country. Missionaries were an easy target because of the bad things whites brought - disease, forcible kidnapping to plantations in Fiji and Australia, and a ban on traditional custom activity. How the missionaries were able to have this enormous impact is hard to fathom. It's been suggested that the churches were an alternate form of status to the traditional, expensive chiefly system.

These days, going to church is a big event. The choral music in the islands is, well, sublime, and there isn't anything else to do on Sunday. For visitors it is a way to get to know people and to pay them respect. Often there's a personal welcome song from the whole congregation, a flower garland, a free lunch, and a handshake from every member of the congregation following the service. At its best (a tiny gathering in a thatched hut where the whole service was song and dance including a rousing hymn called "Givem" while the collection basket was passed), it exemplifies the global fellowship of man. At its worst (an American guest preacher heading to Jerusalem on his sailboat with the message that the Kingdom of God will be established after a war between Israel and Iran "in the very near future"), it's eye-opening.

Side by side with Christianity is a deeper, traditional world of spirits. A man who studied for three years in a Bible college showed us the magic pig stone he uses to wreak havoc on his enemies. ("My mother's brother taught me to summon it so it will uproot their gardens.") We were also shown a shark rock that overturns canoes - by the daughter of an Anglican priest. There is no conflict, they say, between Christianity and custom- they teach the same things.

In some areas, custom has been virtually obliterated by a few generations of Christianity and the people need to go back to missionary journals to learn their traditions. In other areas - particularly Catholic French speaking ones, custom has remained strong. A handful of informed and articulate men told us that they had abandoned Christianity, and had returned to custom worship of nature and traditional gods.

The dances we saw are rooted in the spirit world. Dancers and musicians undergo secret initiation rituals. Sequestered for a month or more in the bush, they learn not only their part in the dance and music, but where to find the materials for their costumes, how to prepare the special fires for making them, and how to dispose of the materials which become imbued with very strong power (strong enough to kill a person who is not authorized to touch them). This information is kept top-secret. It makes it a challenge to get answers to our questions ("Why do they paint their bodies black in this dance? ") and to bring back artifacts (the costumes are supposed to be destroyed after each use so they don't harm the uninitiated .) Though school was dismissed so the children could attend a custom dance festival,we were told that many parents kept their children away for fear of the black magic.
People believe that black magic is the cause of untimely death and serious illness, though they pursue western medical treatment wherever they can. One dancer died from alleged black magic after a performing a highly sacred dance in Australia - considered taboo because the dance is so rooted to the spirits of a place. Black magic, it was speculated, caused the death of a government official who got in the way of some dancers while taking a photograph.

And we have to admit, Ellen had been wrapping a large plaque that had been used in a custom dance when the Vanuatu earthquakes struck last week about 230 miles from where we were. Didn't feel anything but could it have been black magic?
With regret we left Vanuatu October 14, headed for New Caledonia and then Australia.

October 8, 2009 - Safe and Sound

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 15:11:00 +0000

Right, Villagers return home after tsunami alert

Hi all, Eve again. Three earthquakes hit very close to Vanuatu yesterday and I'm happy to say that, again, my folks are fine. I just hope those tectonic plates in the South Pacific will stop rumbling soon. Here's an email from them yesterday evening:

Dear all,

We are fine following this morning's earthquake at 9 am local time. We were about 230 miles away, on the boat, at anchor in a very protected spot. We did not feel anything though our friends on another boat nearby said they felt a shudder. We did receive a tsunami warning about 30 minutes after the earthquake on the marine radio (possible tsunami following 8.0 EQ) and sprang into high alert. We were able to confirm things with contacts in Port Vila with the sat phone. We observed nothing - no big waves or receding of ocean. Three hours later, we received a notice cancelling the alert for Vanuatu. By then we had dug into our reference books and realized that at this distance any tidal wave would have come and gone a long time ago.

We then took the dinghy to the village about a mile away. All but 6 young men from this 200 person island had evacuated by outrigger canoe a mile across the bay and up a very high hill, having felt the tremors and heard an announcement on the radio that people on low lying islands should move to high ground. So, the emergency warning system does work, I am very happy to report. A bit shocked that this close test came so soon after last week's natural disasters and so close to where we are.
We are on the way to Port Vila now at 16.38 S, 167.48 E. We expect to learn more tomorrow but here you have it first hand.

October 6, 2009 - South Malekula Island, Vanuatu

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 19:39:00 +0000

Following up on Eve's posting, we are safe and sound following the quakes and tsunamis. Still in Vanuatu, we were about 1200 nautical miles west of the Samoa quake, and 3600 nautical miles east of the Sumatra quake. (A nautical mile is 15% longer than a statute mile, so these are substantial distances.) We did not feel, hear or see any impact. We also did not hear any warning on our marine radio which we keep on at all times. We don't really know very much except our own experience and messages from the family: we have had 30 minutes on the internet in seven weeks and seen a current Vanuatu newspaper once or twice in the same period.

A tsunami is generally not felt just offshore. If you have just a few minutes to pull up your anchor and get to open sea, a boat should be fine and not notice much of anything. When you are at anchor, you are usually in close contact with people. A place where a boat can anchor is a valuable harbor for the natives as well, and consequently, it is where people live.

We were able to tune into Armed Forces Radio and hear NPR's All Things Considered - a very rare event for us- and heard a piece speculating about how tsunami warnings might get spread in this part of the world. Which gives us a chance to offer you our thoughts about communication of important messages here.

Within ear or eyeshot, news travels incredibly fast by word of mouth, walking, and canoe. Example: arrive at new village, give some fresh caught fish to a couple of guys who paddle out to your sailboat to say hello. Ten minutes later, as darkness falls, more guys paddle out because they learned there might be some fish aboard.
Onshore, people have a traditional set of emergency signals kind of like a musical Morse Code that they play on hollowed logs to spread word from village to village - someone is sick, someone died, an event is about to begin. The message is relayed from village to village that way. Between islands without phone or radio communication, they set fires to summon help (such as, my wife is expecting a baby soon, please send a boat to come get her).

We were in a community with no telephone, radios, or cell phone service during a medical emergency ashore. At dawn the villagers swarmed out to the yachts in the harbor and begged for help. They knew that boats have radios and they knew that the police in the "big town" with the airport and the clinic monitored the radio, but they had no idea about the channels or the times. They wanted the police to send the motorboat to pick the patient up, about a two hour trip one way. (It's a six hour walk over mountain trails for a healthy adult.)

We had a satellite phone. We found out that there were land lines in the big town but they had been out of order for some weeks. We found a list of Vanuatu emergency numbers and started calling. Five calls later, we found someone in the police headquarters 250 miles away with radio information. We radioed and radioed. We reached the police after they finally got to work in the morning. Yes, they would send the boat. Yes, today. The boat didn't arrive that day. The boat didn't arrive the next day or the morning after. (Despite repeated promises over the radio.)

Wisely, early on the villagers had formed a thirty man convoy to carry the patient to the next village (three hours away for a healthy adult without a load). There was a medical dispensary there where he received some medication that provided some alleviation of the symptoms. We received several updates via the trail grapevine during this period of time, people running and paddling, back and forth, back and forth. It works for them. Needless to say, it is very educational for Westerners who are used to using technology to "get results". Doesn't really work in remote areas around here. Skipping several generations of technology, cell phones seem to be a tremendous boon. Things seem to work a bit more reliably where they are available.

It's a sobering experience when places we have visited are hit by natural disasters or when we contemplate what might have happened if it had been us with a medical emergency or a tsunami in a remote place. We take lots of precautions but ultimately these risks are part of this adventure.

Our thoughts are with the people we met in 2007 in American Samoa (Pago Pago) and in northern Tonga (Nuiatopotabu), which we understand were hard hit. You can reread our blog entries from those places.

Sept 30 - All is well

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 16:16:00 +0000

Hi loyal Rasamanis followers, Eve here. Just wanted to share with you that I received an email from my mom yesterday saying that my folks and the boat are fine. They were far away from both the Samoan earthquake & resulting tsunami activity and the Indonesian quakes. My mom plans to send an official blog update soon, so hopefully more news of them to come. Thanks for thinking of our family! -Eve

Sept. 21, Maewo Island, Vanuatu

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 15:11:00 +0000

We have been delaying a trip to port since the end of August, when we had about a week of fresh provisions -a cabbage, three onions, half a head of garlic - on board. Three weeks later we are still eating well. Between bartering with the locals, the fishing rod, and the cans and dried goods we bought in New Zealand and Fiji, we are surviving quite nicely.

It's easy to get bananas, papayas, grapefruit, and mangoes (which have just come into season) from the canoes that paddle up to the boat or the villagers you meet ashore. We are eating bananas (which come in hands of 20-40 bananas) raw and in large quantities, also fried, sauced, pancaked and smoothied. We devour enormous papaya daily for breakfast. In the absence of lettuce, tomatoes, and cucumbers our salad is papaya with sesame oil, sesame seeds, and a little of the old cabbage for crunch. Often the fruit is given for free, as if it would be rude to charge for something that took so little effort.

Vegetables are harder to come by. In big towns (very few and far between), you sometimes see a roadside stand with Costco sized bundles of fresh greens wrapped in banana leaves. Because they won't split the bundles you develop creative uses for bok choy (think of celery substitute) and island cabbage (slimy spinach like leaves). Elsewhere, you need to develop relationships and you have to order in advance because the villagers' gardens are a long and steep trip from their homes by the sea, and they only bring home what they need to feed their families that day.
The old standbys - onions, potatoes, carrots, celery - are nowhere to be found in the outer islands. What's available is not familiar . There's the steak bean - a cross between a cucumber and zucchini with a very mild flavor when cooked. The chouchoute - a pale pear shaped summer squash. We pass on taro and manioc. Small, fragile, dirt-crusted eggs, green onions, little shriveled peppers, and yams are sometimes available, too.

Sometimes we pay money for produce, but more commonly it's a barter transaction. We have traded:
Sugar, rice and flour -where the supply boat hadn't come for six months.
Cow ropes - enough to keep a cow under one coconut tree, but not enough to get wrapped around the next tree.
Pens and pencils for school
Used bedsheets, clothes, kitchenware, tools
We have disposed of much that is not essential or that can be purchased when we get back to town. The islanders have so little and no way to get it, while we have so much.

At our last stop, a regional capital (a secondary school, a 20 bed hospital, a bank, a post office, an airstrip, a dirt road with a dozen trucks and motorcycles), there were four "general stores". One had a mini-fridge with cold drinks. With determination, we were able to buy six cans of Coca-Cola, packaged cookies, three liters of long life milk, canned tuna, toilet paper, rice, a dozen mass produced eggs and a few onions. We also bought gasoline direct from a 55 gallon drum. We could not find butter (we are down to our last two tablespoons), bread, or beer for sale even though the supply boat came while we were there.

Ah, beer. We have been saving our last bottle for about 10 days now - maybe for a very special celebration. Each Pacific nation has its own brewery(ies). In Vanuatu, it's called Tusker and it is pretty good. But due to high licensing fees and lack of demand in a non-cash economy where you can grow kava in your garden, beer is virtually unavailable outside of the cities. In Port Vila, a case was $45.00 (US). On Tanna, the only outer island where we found it, hidden like contraband, it was $43.00 (US) for 10 bottles. (They had gone to so much effort to bring it out that we couldn't say no, put it back).

Sept. 8, The Banks Islands, Vanuatu

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 15:20:00 +0000

Vanuatu continues to astound and amaze us. Four weeks ago we thought we would never experience anything like Tanna again in our lives - but the hits, they just keep on coming. Here is a brief synopsis:

8/11 - 17 - In Port Vila, the capital of the country, population 30,000. Great restaurants and supermarket serve the large expat community. Swam in a gorgeous waterfall, finished the boat chores, got our visas extended, watched the weather turn beautiful and had one good hour online. We have been at least 50 miles away from internet, an electricity grid, paved roads, or grocery stores since leaving Port Vila. (This posting will be radioed to Eve who will post it on the blog.) We picked up Lindsey, a young American biologist as a passenger. Her "research vessel" (our friends on Fifth Season) had been delayed in transit from New Zealand.

8/18 -23 - In the Maskelyne Islands on the southeast coast of Malekula We partnered up with Ocean Star, a catamaran family from Hunter Valley,Australia. Between Lindsey's marine biology, eight year old William's gregariousness, and Tom's anthropology, we had a wonderful time exploring the coral reef and getting to know the locals, who commuted to their gardens on sailing canoes. At the school fundraiser, we sat on handwoven reed mats and ate lap-laps (puddings) with our hands. The headmistress of the school got the ladies giggly with kava. The men got way beyond giggly.

8/24 - 30 - Dodging ash and smoke from the island's active twin volcanoes, we attended the North Ambryn Back to My Roots Festival with about two dozen other yachts and a handful of anthropologists and fine arts experts. This particular community is the place where the most renowned art in Vanuatu - enormous carved slit-gong drums called tam-tams and tree fern statues - are made - in a culture that cultivates magic. (People from other islands will not step foot on Ambryn because they are so frightened of the magic here.) The festival was three days of non-stop dancing , singing and pig killing to mark the real-life promotion of a chief from one grade to the next. The women dancers wore grass skirts, nothing on top. The men wore belts and a penis sheath - a woven mat that is wrapped around the penis on one end and tucked into the belt on the other (so that the penis is held erect). You get used to it.

8/31 - 9/4 - We raced 130 miles north to the Banks Islands for the Vanua Lava Cultural Festival. This area is considered very remote even by Vanuatuans. No cell phones! The airport is a six hour walk or a 15 mile trip in a little motorboat in the open ocean, and the plane only comes on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Nonetheless, the four day festival was fantastic and was considered a big success when 14 boats with 28 white people showed up (no one came by air). The costumes, singing, dancing, food, games. handicrafts, commentary, friendship, creativity and facilities would have been exceptional in a first world city of a million people. In a village of 900, where people lived off the land and didn't use money except to pay for school fees, it was absolutely astounding.

We are anchored now at Waterfall Bay, off the west coast of Vanua Lava, waiting for favorable winds to take us south to experience more Vanuatu. We plan to sail to the East Coast of Australia in the next month or two, and then fly home to the US.

Port Resolution, Tanna, Vanuatu, August 10, 2009

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 02:52:00 +0000

This is an amazing place. Definitely National Geographic quality. Someday we will find an internet connection that can handle photos.

Port Resolution is a beautiful harbour on the east side of Tanna Island in Vanuatu (formerly New Hebrides). One side of the harbor has hot springs from Mt Yasur volcano, about 8 miles away. When the wind blows from the north – which is not frequent, but happened twice in our eight days here - the boat gets covered with ash.

There is a village ashore. It is very traditional. People living in huts, dirt underfoot, arranged marriages, fishing from homemade outrigger canoes. There is a big primary school run by the Seventh Day Adventists. Everyone under 45 speaks either English or French fluently, learned in school. The older people speak one of Tanna’s 29 languages and usually Bislama, a pidgin English that is the common tongue in much of Melanesia.

There is no electricity in the village, but flashlights are common and some young people have cell phones. Batteries and charging facilities are scarce and there is an endless stream of requests to trade either for fresh vegetables or fish. There is a pickup truck in the village that takes us where we want to go – slowly and packed like sardines, bump, bump, bump on rutty dirt roads over mountains and streambeds and very funky bridges.

A highlight of Port Resolution is the trip up to the rim of the volcano at night. The volcano rumbles then explodes into fireworks. It was a rather calm night - no "firebombs' landing anywhere near us. Lonely Planet warns readers to get their affairs in order before going up to the volcano because tourists have died up there.

The highlight of our stay was a circumcision ceremony in a remote village. The actual operation took place about a month ago, with a sharpened bamboo stick, on 3 brothers approximately aged 5 – 10. The boys then went into hiding in the bush where they learn about being men from a grandfather who watches them. The two hour ceremony marked their return to their mother and village and qualifies them for the job of chewing kava root so their toothless elders can enjoy it in liquid form (spittle dissolved in water).

The father of the boys went to work in the big city of Port Vila to pay for this affair, on the scale of a bar mitzvah or a wedding back home. The five yachties who attended paid a per person fee which would go a small ways to help defray the costs.

5 pigs, 2 cows and one goat were ritually slaughtered in front of our eyes in the village ceremonial square (nakamal). A huge pile of food, mats and fabric was assembled on top of an underground cooking fire. The boys marched into the village square followed by the men of the village, dressed in colorful skirts, leis, feather headdresses, with faces painted yellow and red. The females were decked out even more elaborately, with a mix of the traditional (tie dyed skirts made from wild hibiscus stems) and the manufactured (tinsel Christmas garlands).

There were dances. Then food (chunks of beef and taro pudding cooked in banana leaves) was served to everyone (turned out the pudding was made with raw pigs blood, no wonder it tasted strange). Leftovers went to the dogs and piglets. Then long speeches by the male elders. Then the women and children left. Then the men sat around waiting for kava to be prepared (women are not supposed to be anywhere around the consumption of kava, it used to be punishable by death, now just steep fines.)

Tom spent the night in the village to experience the kava (reputed to be the strongest in Vanuatu which is reputed to be the strongest in Melanesia),watch the dancing and practice his training as an anthropologist. Here’s his account:

“I spent the afternoon hanging out, talking to people, visiting the village area, and resting up for the big night of singing and dancing. The atmosphere was one of quiet anticipation of the excitement to come. But it started to rain and rain hard just before dark. Things took a despairing turn and by about 8 pm most people had wandered off back to the village to shelter. I shivered under a borrowed blanket in one of the huts in the nakamal until about 10 pm when a man I had talked to showed up and brought me back to his house where his wife set up a bed for me.

I slept a little as the wind blew through the woven mats that make the walls and the rain pounded on the tin roof. A baby would occasionally whimper. There was only the light of flashlights and those were used very sparingly. About 3 am I awoke to singing in the distance. The rain and wind had stopped and I was cozy on a soft bed under the blanket. But then I thought, "What am I here for--to sleep or to witness Kastom dance and see what very few are willing or able to?"

So up I got and my host, Joe, and I trekked back up the hill where the little generator was going to provide a little light and a group of costumed men and women were dancing and singing in the center of the grounds. The dancing and accompanying songs, without instruments--only clapping and foot stomping-- went on until about 730 am. The food was brought, divided and eaten, and there were more speeches by various elders. My guide Stanley tried in vain to obtain a ride for us back to Port Resolution. He, his wife and young daughter needed to get back as well but he said that it would be too slow to go together so Stanley and I set off alone for the four-hour walk up over the hill along the rain-slickened rutted road. But it's these times that are most valuable. I had Stanley's undivided attention and asked him question after question.”

The next days at Port Resolution were jam-packed with interchanges with the villagers. Tom’s foray into village life earned him respect, warmth and entree. We left port with buckets of fresh vegetables, free range eggs, lobster, costume and craft pieces, a standing invitation to return for more special experiences, a kava hangover (Tom), and tears in our eyes (Ellen). In addition we loaded the boat with a bundle of taro to deliver to a village benefactor and a 23 year old villager who was headed to NZ for seasonal work in the apple orchards.

Denerau, Fiji Islands, July 28, 2009

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 02:45:00 +0000

In April, we seriously questioned coming to Fiji. The military head of the country postponed elections until 2014. The country’s Supreme Court was dismissed after ruling the military coup was unconstitutional. The authority to license lawyers was taken from the bar association and handed to the government so it could put an end to effective representation of political dissidents, according to NZ newspapers.
Fiji has been in an ongoing state of political stress for over 25 years. The underlying issue is race. The first thing we were told in Fiji, from the health inspector who came aboard wearing a mask and gloves to protect against H1N1 virus, was “There are two races in Fiji – Fijians and Indians. He,” pointing to her colleague,“ is Indian. I am Fijian.” The population is split about 50 -50.
Employment seems to follow that pattern. Government offices and businesses, small and large, have both Indians and Fijians working side by side. We asked, it is a government mandate? The response, was no, it is good business. From what we could tell, housing is somewhat segregated (there are Indian villages where they fly red prayer flags). There did not appear to be any intermarriage.
Indo-Fijians started coming here around 1870 to work in the sugar cane fields as indentured servants. Though they are restricted from owning land, the Indo-Fijians are successful farmers, business people and professionals. For years, pro-Fijian governments have made life difficult for Indians, and many have left the country. Currently the government, which controls much of the land in trust for ethnic Fijians, is not renewing ten year leases to Indian farmers.
We asked lots of people their views on the situation. The most passionate response was from a thirty something part Chinese man who worked as a head chef in a fancy resort. “The last coup was the best thing that ever happened in this country. That’s when we could start walking around our neighborhood and feel safe. Before we were victimized by gangs and the police did nothing. Elections are the worst thing in Fiji – they do nothing but stir racial animosity. We are not ready for democracy. My generation doesn’t care about politics, we just want to make our house payments and raise our families.”
We heard a few dissents in Suva. “You can’t say anything for fear of being put in prison,” said one Indian cabdriver. The newspapers are silent except for the occasional press release from the government.
A distinguished Fijian who had served in a previous government and at UN Headquarters said, “It will have to run its course. The people will not be happy when unemployment rises when the rest of the world stops visiting and giving aid due to Fiji’s non-compliance with aid conditions. The truth, I believe, is a country like Fiji is prone to government by coups and countercoups.” A career US Embassy employee indicated that many diplomatic experts shared this theory and noted (as we did) that outside of Suva, no one seemed to care.
Tourism – the number one driver of the economy - dropped 40% in the two months following the clampdown. That was not the intention of the government, which devalued the Fijian dollar 20% to attract visitors. We could not spend more than $2.25 for a metered cab ride to anywhere in the sprawling city of Suva. Four cucumbers or 10 baby eggplants for 50 cents. $15 tops for a nice piece of clothing or pair of shoes. Resort visitors – including a pair of very devout Orthodox Jewish newlyweds from Brooklyn - crowed about their great tour packages.
So, if you don’t mind a long plane trip, we would tell you – after seven weeks there - that Fiji is THE place to come for a vacation in the South Pacific. It’s cheap. It’s very beautiful. There’s plenty of cultural interest. The weather – especially on the west side – is lovely (read, sunny and not beastly hot). No mosquitos, no “Bali belly” (down under for “la turista”), excellent transportation and communication systems, a resort to suit every budget and interest, and the friendliest, most helpful people we’ve encountered.
(PS – It’s been a long time away from the internet, so excuse the late posting.)

Beqa Island, Fiji, July 15, 2009

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Wed, 22 Jul 2009 09:03:00 +0000

Waiting for parts we took a weekend trip to Beqa Island, located about 25 miles southwest of Suva. We were entranced and decided to return with our new alternator installed. The chartplotter still doesn’t work but the boat has managed well without one for almost 5 years, just a longer delay to our entrance into 21st century navigation.
Beqa (spelled “Mbengga” on charts) is 36 square kilometers of mountainous green jungle, beach and mangroves. There are nine villages on the island, which is surrounded by a large lagoon. No roads, off the grid, very quiet. We are told that it is written up as one of the “1000 Places to See Before You Die” and frequently makes the list of top dive sites in the world. It is also home to a clan of firewalkers that is unique to this island. There are a handful of intimate resorts which have been very welcoming – perhaps because business is slow, perhaps because everyone likes an anchored yacht in the foreground of their sunset photo, perhaps for diversion. The clients are mainly American honeymooners and dive groups.
All land and harbors –even surf breaks!- are owned by someone. Here, as in other rural areas of Fiji, one cannot anchor, walk, fish, swim – do anything, really – without permission of the village chief and payment of the “toll”. Here is the routine:
Anchor. Get dinghy in water. Put engine on dinghy. Go ashore. Remember to bring the kava (dried pepper plant that is prepared as a slightly inebriating tea) you bought at the market in town which the sellers dress up in newspaper and ribbon, and remember to bring the cruising permit that is written in Fijian. Remember to remove your sunglasses and hat – wearing them is disrespectful. Remember to be covered from the knees to the shoulders. Remember to bring the camera.
Greet the hordes of children on the beach, climbing into the boat, touching everything, dripping green stuff from their noses, with odd skin lesions and coughs. Ask for the chief. Walk through the village saying “bula” to everyone. Be shown into the chief’s house, into a large room covered with woven straw mats, where an ordinary looking guy with gray hair greets you. Be seated on the mat, cross legged. Make some small talk “Where are you from?” “How long will you stay?”, hand over your gift of kava.
The chief chants a short something over the kava then claps his hands five times (a distinguished, low-pitched clap) then dismisses us with directions: “The children will show you around the village. You are welcome to stay as long as you want . You may take pictures”. Later you learn if you want to climb that mountain you need to pay a guide. And that beach over there belongs to someone else, you can’t go there.
Sometimes the villagers are friendly, inviting you into their homes, and “giving” you stuff – a shell necklace, some papayas, a snack. It’s not so much a gift as the preliminary to asking you for something – a raincoat? Some batteries for her radio? Fishing line? Money towards a new pair of rugby boots?
It’s exhausting and very rewarding. You go back to the boat and bring the stuff you promised and meet more people who want to give you more things, and then you meet their children and grandchildren and some other people, and on it goes.

Suva, Fiji July 1

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 23:28:00 +0000

Fiji – finally!!!
We arrived in the capital city of Suva on June 17 to warm sunshine over beautiful, rugged green mountains. The passage from Minerva was three unexpectedly nice days of sailing (we expected to motor). There was lots of fresh fish to supplement the dwindling larder (we ran out of bread and just about all of the fresh produce). Crew Chris needed to get back to commitments in NZ after the 8 day trip that lasted close to a month. The alternator, a critical part of our electric supply, stopped functioning a few hours before we arrived. We were ready to be in port.
No matter, shut up and wait. It took 26 hours before our passports were officially stamped and we were free to move around. In the meantime, the refrigerator and freezer were turned off and what was left was quickly melting in the heat. Our cruising friends on Asylum and Scholarship arrived to a big barbecue of our defrosting meat.
Suva’s a big town for the South Pacific, a major port, a bustling commercial center, and the hub of higher education, regional governance, and aid for the South Pacific. The East Indian population of Fiji is concentrated here, with restaurants, temples, mosques, sari stores, al-Jazeera TV and Bollywood movies. There are Chinese and Japanese enclaves, white expats, lots of Samoans, Tongans, Solomon Islanders. And then there are the very friendly Fijians. Formerly cannibals, they greet you with “bula”, big smiles and lasting eye contact.
While still a third world backwater, the city is remarkably tidy, quiet and well-organized. Great shopping (better than Auckland) and lots of modern air conditioned office buildings with computers on the desks and vision and mission statements posted on the walls. The public market is wonderful. However, you wouldn’t swim or fish in the harbor. Other than the day we arrived, it rains almost all the time. We are told to watch out for pickpockets and not to be on the streets at night. And a poisonous snake has decided that it likes to hang out in our dinghy motor. Now that is creepy.
Two weeks later, we are still here, still waiting for replacement parts, and no idea of when we will be able to leave. What a life.

June 13, North Minerva Reef

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Sat, 13 Jun 2009 16:26:00 +0000

North Minerva Reef is a coral lagoon that is about 2/3 of the way between northern New Zealand and Fiji. The reef is a 3.5 mile diameter circle. There is one narrow pass in and out. Inside the reef the water is about 40-50 ft deep, surrounded by the Pacific Ocean. There's nothing relating to civilization on the reef except one navigational beacon.
At high tide the reef is awash and we are surrounded by breakers. At low tide, you can take the dingy to walk and wade on the magnificent coral reef and see octopus, starfish, hermit crabs, and splendid live corals at your feet. It's warm but not hot. Chris is keeping us and the three other yachts here provisioned with fresh fish which we have eaten sushied, fried, barbecued, chowdered, pated.
We arrived just after dawn on June 8, after a mostly pleasant passage of 6 days. We were shocked to see a cargo ship anchored inside the reef. On closer examination, it looked more like a pirate lair. We have since learned that the ship is a Tongan-Chinese sea cucumber harvesting operation. The crew - 9 stationed here for 6 months- walks the reef at low tide. In broken English and pantomime, they showed us how to eat raw giant clam (which turns out to be an endangered species).
This was supposed to be a quick rest stop to meet up with our friends on Asylum and Scholarship. However, we are essentially trapped here by north winds that will make continuing the passage to Fiji miserable and have made it virtually impossible to get off the boat the past two days.
You can't escape the life lessons that are helping us get by:
- Patience. Patience. Patience.
- This too will pass.
- Don't put off til tomorrow what you can do today.

Divided by a Common Tongue

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 07:11:00 +0000

Another essay, still waiting for weather out of New Zealand. We plan to leave tomorrow, June 2, in the morning. But then, we planned to leave Thursday and we planned to leave yesterday....Someday we will have a good internet connection that will allow us to post pictures, but not in this little village at the top of the North Island...

With apologies to a speaker on NZ Public Radio, we agree with the thesis that there are profound cultural differences in the modern English speaking world. The more time goes on, the more our initial impression of NZ (it’s just like home) seems misplaced.
Work. Q-“Why aren’t there any Kiwis on Star Trek?”A – “New Zealanders don’t work in the future either.” “What do sperm and Kiwis have in common?” “Only 1 in 50,000 work.”
In New Zealand, work is a means to an end. That end is lifestyle. You get enough money from work to live your lifestyle (not just own it).
Therefore, work is where you can take off for a month to sail to Fiji with your mates or two months to go visit the kids in England. A construction business where you can sit out a recession. A cafe that you open 8:30 – 4 weekdays so you can fish weekends. Complete unreality in the US. Here, it’s the expectation. The trade-off is that the standard of living is lower, and personal debt is higher.
Naturally, owning your own business is big. Not only do you get to call the shots about work hours but you also rule your own empire. Do you have complaints about the service, price or quality at my business? Get out. I don’t want to see you in here again. Take your business elsewhere. It doesn’t work and you want to return it? We don’t do returns, you need to be more careful when you shop.
Education. There is great pride and respect for the trades and working with your hands. University graduates downplay their education and often end up far from home, in London or Australia. Farming is the top of the economic ladder – not only is it a source of income but the land, when sold off, is a source of substantial wealth. The farmers we have met have been sophisticated business people in family teams, well-heeled, knowledgeable about agrarian science and the world, owners of second homes and beautiful boats.
Sex and the family. People are very matter of fact about sexuality and sexual relationships. It is odd to hear people refer to their husband or wife, partner is the term of choice for all ages and sexes. One assumes that parents of young children are not married. When they do marry and divorce, joint custody is the rule. A common custody arrangement is the family nest, where the parents move in and out of the family home according to the custody schedule.
According to several surveys, Kiwi women are the most promiscuous in the world. We have not experienced that first hand but we can say that women tell the bawdiest of jokes in mixed company and seem comfortable in pioneering and iconoclastic roles. NZ has already had two women prime ministers. One of the top films here this year is about a pair of farmgirl yodelling comedian folksinging lesbian twins who made it big in show business. Contrast that with Australia, where the dominant female icon was, to our eyes, the fashion model.

Rowing on the River

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Mon, 01 Jun 2009 06:57:00 +0000

Essay from Ellen while waiting for a weather window out of NZ:

Rowing was the sunshine of my life in Tauranga. I found Bay of Plenty Coast Rowing Club online. The club was a friendly, supportive and growing group of seventeen men and women developing their sculling and occasionally, with some groans, sweep skills.
The thrice weekly drive out to the boathouse was a like a tonic to my soul – out into the country, away from the sprawl, the traffic, the gusty harbour, the endless work on the boat. We rowed up the tidal Wairoa river when the tide was coming in, and down the river when it was running out, past green hilly farms, bush-clearing fires, past herds of cows and sheep, kiwifruit groves, lifestyle estates, twittering birds, lush monstrous deep green ferns, autumn leaves, rainbows, magnificent autumn sunsets and full moon risings, watching out for other boats, logjams, flooding, sharp turns, and duck hunters.
My teammates are a hardy bunch. We went out in big rains, near gale winds, whitecaps, tipped over in floods, went out in radically new line-ups all the time. Fall in, get up and shake yourself off. Freezing cold – it’s shorts and T-shirt weather. Who needs shoes? We walk across vast parking lots of gravel in our bare feet. Warm up before a race? Dash from the finish line to the next boat, get in and go!
I participated in three regattas rowing in 8s, quads, and doubles. I even brought home a gold medal. I learned how to respond to “easy!” (instead of “weigh enough”) and to “right” and “left” instead of “port” and “starboard”. Got comfortable with sculling, learned to steer a boat with my foot, enjoyed rowing with the opposite sex, and possibly even made some progress with my technique.

May 28, Opua NZ

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Thu, 28 May 2009 06:18:00 +0000

In case you are wondering, we are still in New Zealand. May’s been a tough month but it could have been much worse. The retrofit is complete – well, sort of – and the improvements are marvellous -but I’m not sure we will ever forget the blood, sweat, tears, time and money it took.
Or the luck we have had. On May 11, our boat was out of the water “on the hard” for last minute painting and polishing. We were preparing to move the boat back into the water that afternoon when blinding lightning struck. We scrambled off the boat – a 64 foot lightning rod - and drove through hail to the nearby Starbucks for cover.
We returned to find several workers had been shocked not 15 feet from our boat. Over 16 inches of hail fell and sat on the ground for 12 hours. The roof of the local shopping mall collapsed. In the marina, electricity had travelled up into the boats in the water and literally fried everything from depth sounders to DVD players. We were extremely fortunate to have been out of the water, our systems were not touched.
The last month was a blur of endless work in cold biting wind, tests, trials, successes, failures, setbacks, and looming doubt about whether and when it would all come together. With our friends on Asylum, we started the tradition of the “Unhappy Hour” where, on particularly bad days, of which there were many, we cried on each others’ shoulders over a stiff rum or two or.... At some point we would feel better and be able to face the next day.
On Saturday, May 23, having just completed our punchlist, we set sail for Fiji with crew Chris Shepard. Chris is a University of Arizona grad who has been living in Wellington where he makes his living playing online poker, hones his skills as a sailor and golfer and recently won the New Zealand Ultimate Frisbee team championship (he is also a national champion in Denmark). He is a fearless technophile – no fear of pressing buttons – a skill we deeply appreciate with our new electronics and our various computers and marine peripherals.
May 23 was a bright sunny day, and the southwest wind built into gale force as the day wore on. Our new sails sped us towards our destination at a magnificent 8 knots, double reefed. However, several pieces of brand new equipment were not working properly and another big storm was brewing, so we re-entered New Zealand at Opua, in the Bay of Islands, 30 hours into the trip.
We quickly set to work resolving the problems. We hunkered down for the storm that dumped 4 inches of rain in about 12 hours on Tuesday, installed a new part and did a sea trial Wednesday, and were chomping at the bit to take off Thursday, which the forecasters had been promising was going to be a good time to take off. Not to be. Late Wednesday night we got the message that a huge storm was in the offing for the weekend, delay departure plans until next Tuesday. Who knows when we will leave NZ?

Tauranga NZ, April 26

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 23:26:00 +0000

OK, blog fans, we’ve heard you. We are still in New Zealand. Still in Tauranga. Still tied up at the dock.
We have been working on the boat almost nonstop since we returned from Australia on February 16. A month later, Tom wrote his sister, “It’s been frustrating, discouraging, depressing, annoying, bitter, laughable, cryable. We hug each other and say surely we will be out of here come May. But it’s raining again.” At that point all we had to show for 30 days of work was the installation of two new reading lights.
Since that time there has been a lot of forward progress. We see the light at the end of the tunnel and should be ready to leave New Zealand in mid-May, weather permitting. What will happen if the weather doesn’t come before we are officially kicked out on May 30 when the temporary import entry for the boat expires, we don’t know, and don’t think about too much. There are so many other things to think about. Will we go to Fiji which just experienced its umpteenth coup since 1994? How do we operate all our new systems? Will we remember anything at all about sailing after 18 months in the marina? What’s our long term plan?
Not exactly paradise. We have been working as hard as we ever worked in the States with familiar patterns of stress. We have given up all reading except for electronics manuals, cruising guides and charts.
We do get a bit of entertainment. Ellen joined the local rowing club. Our cruising friends are supportive and an endless source of advice, comfort, food, and drink.
We’ve gone on two excursions. The first was The Great Walk over the Tongariro Crossing. When we arrived, hundreds of people from all over the world had been waiting four days in cold mountain rains for the trail to open for this once in a lifetime opportunity. The winds on top at 6000 feet were fierce driving knock-downs, reminding us of books we’d read about climbing the Himalayas. It rained nonstop. We couldn’t see a thing. Disappointing.
We also went to the NZ World Cup Qualifier horse cross-country event where we saw a top level thoroughbred die in front of our eyes from overstress (not nutritional supplements). Creepy. Better stick to the to-do list.

Perth, Australia, February 15

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 08:44:00 +0000

We spent 10 days in the southwestern corner of the state of Western Australia (WA). Perth, the state’s capital, has been called “the most remote city in the world”. It’s four hours, by air, to any other city in Australia or Asia. Perth didn’t seem remote. The city was full of new buildings, luxury goods, expensive cars, microbreweries and supermodel wannabees.
Our friends Steve and Jillian showed us a wonderful time. Steve emigrated to Oz 20 years ago from Seattle, and Jill came from England around the same time. They took us to see an Australian Rules football game – Jill works for the league so we sat in the commissioner’s box. They introduced us to great music and the best local libations. They arranged for an afternoon of sailing out of Royal Perth Yacht Club, proud home of Australia II, winner of the 1983 America’s Cup. Took us bike riding on the glorious Rottnest Island. And we’ve gotten to know three out of four of Steve’s wonderful daughters.
Three hours south of the Perth was Margaret River - nirvana for people who love the fine things in life. Home to 140 premium wineries, the area’s Indian Ocean beaches draw an international surfer set. Talk about beautiful people. The area is quiet and bucolic. There’s no traffic. The stars at night are something to behold. One wanders around in a haze of fine wine with galleries and food to match.
Most of Australia’s mineral wealth is found in WA and this sector has been the major driver of the country’s economy in recent years. There’s gold, nickel, iron, uranium, copper, diamonds, salt, oil and gas and more. China has been the dominant buyer as well as a major investor.
We were not out of fire danger in WA. We went for a hike in a national park just minutes from our hotel in Margaret River. We smelled smoke. We drove down the road to catch a view of a huge plume of smoke rising out of the hills. At the hotel, an evacuation was in process. We packed our bags and wondered what was next. Six hours later, the fire was under control and we got back to the hotel but the firefighters spent 48 hours mopping up. The park was lit up with flames again the next night – perhaps, it was speculated, by arsonists seeking the thrill of the Victorian bushfires.

Victoria, Australia, February 7

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Sat, 14 Feb 2009 08:01:00 +0000

The state of Victoria, as everyone by now knows, is the site of the horrific Australian wildfires that exploded on February 7. We were never in the impacted areas and we left Victoria February 6, the day before the disaster struck. We visited dry plains dotted with gum trees, steep forested hills and mountains, traces of waterfalls and rivers, dramatic limestone cliffs. We saw lots of kangaroos and koalas in the wild, along with a lone emu. In contrast to the green east coast, Victoria, in the southeast, was brown and dry. Now in the twelfth year of a drought, there have been bans on watering for years. We tried to go to a car wash. It had been closed for three years. We took a detour to see the lake built for the rowing events of the 1956 Olympics in Melbourne, a beautiful area according to our Lonely Planet. All dried up. There were signs everywhere, “Extreme Fire Danger”. There was evidence – physical and anecdotal - of massive forest fires in the recent past. The news had daily coverage of bushfires raging already in the area. Down at the coast, along the Great Southern Ocean, we were told, by the friendliest people so far in Australia, this kind of heat is not normal. It had brought a plague of annoying but harmless flies that sought you out wherever it was hot and sunny as if to say, you don’t belong here. The tourist sites were hard to appreciate because everyone around was doing their best to wave off the flies. Hiking was not particularly pleasant either. Bushfires, we have been learning, are essential to the ecology of Australia. The indigenous people engaged in controlled burning to allow germination of seeds for their food supplies. The white people didn’t fare so well. One of the most evocative pieces of art we have seen was a frightening Victorian bushfire at night, painted in 1898. We can honestly say the place was in high alert. After the week of extreme heat during the tennis tournament in Melbourne (3 days in a row over 108), the temperatures moderated a bit, staying just below 100. Days in advance, the weather forecast for February 7 was, “record heat and high winds…with the risk of catastrophic fires as in Black Friday (1939) or Ash Wednesday (1993)”, each of which left dozens dead. The policy is “leave early or stay to defend”. People were prepared – but not for this one, with flames as high as 200 feet roaring down the hills not 30 miles from downtown Melbourne, a city of 3.5 million people.

Melbourne, January 31

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Sat, 31 Jan 2009 01:26:00 +0000

Here we are in Melbourne at the end of the Australian Open. It’s truly a stroke of luck for us because we aren’t big tennis fans, at least not until now. We are here now because our Seattle friends Alan and Margaret had been planning a pilgrimage to this Grand Slam tournament to coincide with our time down under. They had to cancel, leaving us with a hotel room just down the river from the Machu Picchu of this sport – the Rod Laver Arena and the Melbourne Park tennis complex.
There are huge TV screens set up in public places downtown – plazas, malls – and hundreds of people sit as a community watching the play in silence, cheering or clapping at appropriate moments. It’s also been 110 degrees Fahrenheit three days in a row (think, summertime in Las Vegas except the city is not set up for this kind of weather, with train tracks buckling and massive power outages). The longest and hottest heat wave to hit Melbourne in 100 years, they say. It’s beastly hot. Great weather for staying indoors and watching “the tennis” on “the telly”.
But yesterday we braved the heat and experienced the tournament live and in person. Our first major tennis tournament watching Venus and Serena Williams winning the women’s doubles – with the roof closed. Later, with the roof open, the 5 hour, 14 minute semi-final between Rafael Nadal and Fernando Verdasca, the battle of the Spaniards, an absolutely riveting match, with Verdasco matching Nadal point for point, set after set...

Airlie Beach, Queensland, January 26

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 09:02:00 +0000

First Dive

Tom and Stacey

In two weeks, we travelled north, about 600 miles by campervan and about the same distance by air and boat. The land has grown greener and greener. We have seen nothing remotely resembling outback. We have moved from temperate weather to the tropics here in North Queensland/Great Barrier Reef.
Camping was a great way to see the country. We could move at our own pace. We stayed at trailer parks and national park campgrounds and met a lot of Australians along the way. One lady told us about four wheel driving in the outback (personal record, 5.5 days seeing no one else). They have a single sideband radio network (like yachties) and air intake towers that allow the engine to work in flood waters. She lent us a book of Aussie poetry. Did you know “Waltzing Matilda” was originally a socio-political epic about a starving poacher who killed himself when he was apprehended by the police?
The landscape was great. The small towns attractive. We had reunions with boat friends who have sailed on to Australia. We saw Neil Young in concert. Many Aussies stayed up all night to watch the Obama inauguration.
Brisbane was a monument to big brash civic vision. Transportation system? Ferries of all speeds and sizes run up and down a completely revitalized river. Hot? Cool off in the fantastic water gardens right downtown underneath bowers of bougainvillea. Museums, take your pick of world class architecture. A massive airport. Two enormous new bridges and 20 mile freeway segments under construction.
Airlie Beach is about 1200 miles north of Sydney and 800 miles south of Cape York (the northernmost point on the East Coast of Australia). It’s gorgeous if you can ignore the pesky bugs and the stultifying muggy heat characteristic of summer, the rainy season. Reminiscent of Bali and Hawaii, it rains very hard but has cleared up every day.
This is a small resort town that is the hub of Australia’s #1 boat cruising area, the Whitsunday Islands, 74 forested mountainous islands on the inside of the Great Barrier Reef. Our friend Steve Ingram’s daughter works on a boat based here. She generously offered us her home and car while she was off at work.
Stacey’s place is made out of corrugated tin and sits in the middle of sugar cane fields by a creek under green mountains. The fields are filled with wallabies (little kangaroos). There’s water from a tank that collects rainwater from the roof, electricity, refrigeration, and hot and cold plumbing. No air conditioning, just 2 ceiling fans and big frames that slide open to the outside. No screens, but a mosquito net canopy around the bed. The area is nicknamed “Snake Valley Yacht Club” by the locals but we saw no evidence of the namesake in the five days we were here, nor of the tarantula that supposedly lives in the yard. It’s really quiet when the rain stops, the frogs pipe down, and the geckos go to sleep.
We took an excursion boat to the Great Barrier Reef. It was 55 miles out and back again. Now that we have seen one of the seven wonders of the world and tried scuba diving for the first time, we can say that we have seen more impressive reef breaks and undersea life snorkeling off Rasa Manis.

Queensland, January 22

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Thu, 29 Jan 2009 08:51:00 +0000

Lots of wildlife in twelve days of camping in the hinterlands and beaches of the East Coast. The first live kangaroo sighting – a pair – came after six days roaming the woodlands. After that we’ve seen our fair share of hopping marsupials in the bush. We still personally can’t tell a kangaroo from a wallaby, a wallaroo, or a pandelemon.
There are big prehistoric looking lizards – goannas – and geckos all over the place. Snakes, including a huge dead python. Colorful noisy birds and laughing kookaburras. Cicadas so loud the sound pierces your eardrums. Frogs so loud you have to yell over them. Dingoes howling at night. We are grateful to have metal between us and the creatures of the night.
In captivity we have seen cute koalas, hefty wombats, massive sharks, and after much determination, a duck billed platypus. We lost most of our very amateur wildlife photography trying to use an underwater case that malfunctioned when we took it snorkeling. Ooops.
Fortunately we have not yet encountered the fearsome poisonous jellyfish. Now, the southern summer, is stinger season. These stingers are sometimes fatal. We met a fortyish man near Brisbane. When we told him we were headed north, he said, “Watch out for the jellyfish”, and showed us the permanent scars he’d received at age 4 when he was on holiday with his parents. Tourists, they had no idea of the risk they were taking swinging him by the arms along the water on a hot and humid summer day. He spent two days in hospital close to death.
Now, there are big signboards by the beaches identifying the various jellyfish, some of which are barely visible. There are bottles of vinegar attached to the signboards which counter the effects of stings from one or two of the numerous species. “If you are stung, flush with one to two liters of vinegar for 30 minutes. Get emergency help immediately…..Symptoms include nausea, dizziness, loss of consciousness and a looming sense of dread…”. The government constructs lovely swimming pools by the beaches and one wears a full body stinger suit engaging in water sports.
Then there are the sharks. Last year, the state of Queensland netted over 800 sharks off popular swimming beaches. 20% of them were Jaws-sized monsters. One is advised not to go near the water at dawn and dusk, especially not while walking a dog (favored shark bait). Who would have thought swimming could be this hazardous to your health?

January 13, 2009, Sydney Region, Australia

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 22:05:00 +0000

“We’re not hobbits. It’s nice to get out of the shire.”

Australia’s awesome. Maybe it’s just the contrast with gnarly New Zealand, but everything seems vibrant, big, brash, ambitious. Sydney’s a beautiful city with a lovely harbor, excellent beaches, an extensive, coordinated public transportation system with bus, trains, light rail, ferries, and monorail and millions of young people (every exchange student in the world?).

We missed New Year’s Eve but we got opening night of the Sydney Festival. Not only were there fireworks, but the downtown streets and parks were transformed into a free performing arts festival with an estimated quarter of a million people in the streets, listening to live music and learning “The Sydney”, a specially commissioned dance via huge video screens.

After five days in Sydney we picked up a campervan (small motor home) and headed out to the Blue Mountains, big eucalyptus forests covering long ridges, vast limestone caves and deep, deep canyons. We’ve reached the Hunter Valley, a big wine region. There are 90 wineries here. Impressive estates, they must be competing for architecture and landscape design prizes along with Wine Spectator ratings.

December 21, 2008 - Tauranga, NZ

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Sun, 21 Dec 2008 08:18:00 +0000

You’ve got your chestnuts roasting on the open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose. We’ve got Santa Claus running around on the beach, fresh strawberry shortcake, and the pohukatawha trees in full bloom. Seasons greetings from New Zealand.

We just returned from almost six months in the US. We resumed some aspects of our former life (rowing for Ellen, another set of projects on the house for Tom), finally sold our industrial property, and explored some new ventures (dreaming about the next home, trout fishing in Montana, volunteering with the winning campaigns and a microlending organization).

You can travel around the world, but there is nothing, nothing like being with your own family. Starting with charming grandson Quinn (on video below with his Grandpa and Mimi at age 10 months). Kim and Ruben are enjoying parenthood, their jobs and Portland, ME. Eve is in San Francisco, on a temporary assignment with her firm. She loves the city and maybe she will figure out a way to stay. Amy is in Seattle, and just completed her first quarter at University of Washington Law School. Our mothers are both doing well and so is the fourteen year old dog that used to be ours, Chip.

We are back in full swing working on the boat and looking forward to a six-week air journey to Australia after the holidays. Then we will return to NZ and finish up the boat work in anticipation of sailing off to Fiji and Vanuatu in May. Cheers!

December 12, 2008- Tauranga, NZ

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 23:40:00 +0000

Tauranga Harbor View
View of Mt Manganui from Beach

Back in New Zealand, yet again. The little city of Tauranga feels more and more like home. The weather is sublime, it’s nice to reunite with friends and acquaintances, we know our way around, the car is working, and fresh strawberries are the fruit of the month.

The boat is fine, but there is still a lot of work to do. We worry about completing it in time to catch the good weather window in May. Yes, five months seems like enough time to get anything done. Any why would you worry when you are leading the dream life in the South Pacific?

You do when the tradesman you worked with last year and who is number one on your critical path says (after you have put in the obligatory 15 minutes of small talk, live and in person, because starting a project on the phone is not getting into action here): “Oi keen coom boi and look at it sometoime in Janry efter Oi feenish thees big jawb een look at eet.” “We’ll be in Oz (local for Australia) for 6 weeks in January and February”. “Weel, Oi moy be down thee road boi then.” “Do you mean you are retiring?” “Ah, yees, thees is getting too much fer me, got ter leave it to thees yung uns.”

We will get there but it won’t be easy. And hey, the really good news is that New Zealand is a bargain now. A U.S. dollar purchases 35% more than it did in March, when we started the boat refit. Dinner out, nothing fancy, costs $16 rather than $25 and there are a lot of very good wines to be purchased for under $5/bottle. Here we are, on the “good side” of the global economic crisis – there are deals to be had, the planes are empty, it really is a good time to come on over.

The Kiwis are not preoccupied by the gloomy news. They tell lots of jokes: “How do you tell who’s an optimist in the financial industry?” “It’s the one who irons five shirts on Sunday night.” The tradespeople claim to be busy, but it looks to us like they just know how to drag out jobs that pay by the hour. The only thing the New Zealanders complain about is the price of cheese, and they have been doing that since we first arrived a year ago. Go figure.

Seattle, July 8, 2008

noreply@blogger.com (rasamanis) — Tue, 08 Jul 2008 18:11:00 +0000

The No. 1 Frequently Asked Question: Is something wrong with the boat? The short answer is no – we are making enhancements. .
– The 62 foot mast was removed March 18 and reinstalled June 24 with a big crane. The big change was removing from the mast a frustrating furling mechanism and installing a slick new Strong Track system and an electric winch for hoisting the main sail. After the mast was painted we added a new signature – two bright flourescent stripes high on the mast, our own Nike swoosh which will distinguish our mast from all the other white sticks in a crowded anchorage.
– New main and genoa sails (shipped from Port Townsend Sails) will be installed and tested when we return in December.
– The boat arrived in New Zealand (sailing the old-fashioned way) with non-functioning radar, auto-pilot, wind and speed instruments and an ailing windlass (the power unit that moves the anchor and 200 feet of chain). Most of the replacements are now installed.
– We finally got new batteries. We selected AGM batteries to eliminate maintenance. In doing so we may have asked for other problems though. Time will tell. It took professional help to modify the existing electrical system to accommodate these new beauties.
- The anchor chain locker has been redesigned and rebuilt to eliminate leaking and make it easier to pull up anchor with a crew of two. Sounds easy, huh? This work had to be done while the boat was out of the water and took a skilled craftsperson four weeks full time.
– Eight more inches of width to the master berth. It’s small but it’s huge. We grabbed the extra width by cutting out part of a locker, just a bit of furniture. But wait! All the furniture on our boat is designed to be part of the hull structure. This meant not removing all of what we wanted to and having a carpenter make a wood cover for an ugly piece of fiberglass, as well as adding storage in another area to make up for the lost part of the locker. The finished product looks very much like the woodwork of the rest of the boat and when the varnish is applied should look like it was part of the original build.
– All new interior upholstery. Phillip the barefoot upholsterer worked on his own schedule. No matter. We couldn’t have taken delivery until the end of June because the boat was a mess and 15 feet up in the air. Phillip will recover the ceiling with ultrasuede when we return and Wendy the canvas lady will make new canvas covers for the outside of the boat then too.
– New stainless steel arch fabrication over the transom to house the new wind generator, the solar panels, the aft anchoring system, and more.
– Repair leaks. Lots of little leaks. Each type of leak requires a different fix. Each fix requires multiple steps. Each step takes a day.
– In all we have had four or five shipments from the US ranging in size from envelopes to hundreds of pounds on pallets in ocean containers, personally cleared through NZ Customs for our “yacht in transit”. It’s been “Keystone Cops” more than once but in every instance importing has turned out to be substantially less expensive than purchasing the same items in NZ, even with the cost of freight, currency exchange, customs fees, mileage, long distance calls, and mental anguish.
The boat was “splashed” back in the water June 24. With Tom doing a substantial share of the labor and an 8% decline in the Kiwi dollar since we began the work, the project is on budget - if not on time.