GOOD THINGS ABOUT LIFE IN PIRIAPOLIS

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To be continued …

(Just kidding)

I think if you’re going to ‘hit the reset button*’ in life, then the best way to do it is to really go for it. Ctrl-Alt-Delete. Erase the parameters: the culture, the comforts, status, familiarity … and just get on with it. So Piriapolis has been a good starting (over) point, for many aforementioned reasons. But (having been chided for whining too much) I decided today to list the many Good Things about Life in Piriapolis:

I’m with two wonderful companions, Stephen and Audrey, who are hard-working, excellent cooks and have good sense of humor!

And the wine is cheap.

I have a place to live and don’t have to pay rent.

Ample hot water.

Two duvets.

Another good thing about the Casa: there are no large insects, lizards or geckos, frogs splashing in the toilet, mice, or marauding monkeys -- as in some places I’ve been known to go.

I don’t have a car so I don’t have to worry about the price of gas. Or DUI.

And I never need to fuss about what to wear. Fleece, fleece, more fleece … and I’m ready to go!

The internet is free and I continue to lap up warm messages from friends and family all around the world.

Lots of exercise and no monthly fees!

The opportunity to try strange new vegetables and menu items … and play games like ‘guess the meat’ …

Beautiful scenery, with the greens of springtime and the Atlantic Ocean in the distance.

Really good books.

Awesome laptop and gadgets.

Exciting future plans.

The gorgeous yacht XPLORE:

[For the past two days we’ve had a fantastic storm: the wind howling through the tree tops; shrieking through the rigging. Rain blowing sideways. The muddy waters of the Rio de la Plata splashing up over the stone wall of the embarcadero. By law we cannot sleep on the boat on the hard, so we trek to La Casa Muy Frio for the night; but have been holed up on XPLORE during the days. The boat shudders with the gusts but is incredibly comfortable, warm and dry. We have a fully stocked galley (and library), snuggly bunks, heaps of duvets; electricity to power the stereo, lights and computers; water, wine, real coffee … she’s cozy and solid and even in her ‘undressed’ state (not yet repainted) she’s by far the most beautiful and powerful yacht in Puerto Piriapolis … and I take more than a small amount of pride in being onboard as part of her crew. ]

I have a LOT (alot alot) more to be thankful for on the whole, but this today is what’s good about life in Piriapolis, Uruguay. ~ Betsy

Sept. 19, 2009

(*I do need to point out that I’m not, like, on-the-lam or anything, I’ve embarked on this journey not because I have to, but because I can. But more on that later.)

"OH SHIT!"

Sept 11 2009

Stephen has offered me these first few days off anticipating what he SAID was jet lag, but what he really knew would be this “OH SHIT!” disoriented state I am in.

I awoke not with the expected thoughts of, “Where am I?” or “What time is it?” – but with absolute doom, wondering, “What the hell am I doing here and why is it so damned cold?!” I am thousands of miles from home, in a %#&$! freezing stone shack, working full time on a boat, about to embark on an utterly insane venture of sailing to Antarctica. I must have lost my fucking mind.

So Thursday morning I slept in with the covers over my head to block out the sun, the whitewashed stone walls, the thatched roof, the smell of gasoline that permeates the piles of junk stored in the loft. Finally I surrendered and got up, and hung out all my clothes (contemplating whether I have to worry about poisonous Uruguayan snakes, as I plod across the yard to the wobbly clothes line …) The day is brisk but sunny, so I expect everything will be dry by the time I get back from the marina. Stephen came to fetch me (see if I was still here?) and walk with me down to the boat.

At the shipyard, XPLORE (AKA “The Fat English Girl”) is propped up on her keel and a cradle made of logs. To get to her deck you climb up a ladder made of planks pretty firmly nailed across two long tree trunks. Considering how much I enjoy heights (NOT!) this alone is a challenge for me, and visions of my twisted body lying in a heap amidst the paint tins and scraps of wood haunt me for days. I hold on tight.

But the boat is in excellent condition, and extremely comfortable down below. I have my own cabin all cleaned and ready for my move-in, although we are not allowed to live on board until the boat is back in the water. (Hence our stay at La Casa Muy Frio.) My cabin is on the port side forward, just behind one of two large and commodious heads (but we do NOT have a holding tank, I am pleased to hear, so nothing stinky below) and I have two bunks: one for me, and the other for storage or as our guest list demands. I decide I will sleep on the top bunk, which is a very cozy looking pipe berth with extra padding, a duvet and pillow. I figure sleeping as high as possible above the water line will be less refrigerator-like when we are in glacier strewn ice water. In addition to the bunks I’ve got four milk crates on some shelving, which will house all my worldly possessions. I ponder the need for a mirror on the wall …

There’s a carbon copy of my cabin across the hall, and two more just aft, that sleep two or three. Then the nav station, companionway; galley and main salon; and two cabins all the way back for the skipper (Stephen) and the first mate (Audrey). XPLORE really is a gorgeous boat, and I am eager for the day we can move aboard and I can consider her my home, as I think this will ease my transition. I’m approaching the coming days with optimism – not quite excitement yet, but that will come.

The Upside Down Summer (or Winter - depending how you look at it)

Sept 10 2009

I arrived safe and sound in Montevideo, after an uneventful flight (*with the exception of sitting on the on the tarmac at Panama’s international airport, watching my bags lay out in the rain -- hence arriving drenched). Customs/immigration was a breeze even though my bags were stuffed with parts and gear; and after taking the scenic route home (thanks to some road construction and questionable navigation on the part of my welcoming committee) we got to the cottage and I settled into my loft. The Casa is pretty rustic, by familiar standards, but has about everything you might need … a kitchenette, nice bathroom and hot water … but no heat! Even though Piriapolis is nearly the same latitude as Carpinteria, it is MAS FRIO (more cold!) being that Carpinteria is in the Northern Hemisphere and enjoying the waning days of summer; and Piriapolis is in the Southern Hemisphere, clinging to winter.

Subsequently I have decided to call my blog The Upside Down Summer because ‘upside down’ is how I feel. It was still summer when I left (replete with sunny days on the beach, barbecues, swimming) and here it is barely hinting of spring. It was hot, here it’s frigid. I was doing ‘intellectual’ work as a writer; and now physical, even menial, labor fills my day (and a long one, at that). There, I was connected -- online and on the phone all the time; but now my phone doesn’t work, and I have little time or internet access. Truly I feel disconnected: from friends and loved ones and all things familiar and desirable. My whole life feels like I’ve taken a big 180-degree flip-flop, and my head spins with the thoughts of everything I have left behind and everything (mostly unknown) that lies ahead. So that’s it (for now): the Upside Down Summer.

One last point: I admit it is also a nod to Eduardo Galeano, the famous South American political/historical writer who wrote many years ago The Upside Down Book, in his inimitably quirky prose. A native of Montevideo (where I landed) I acquiesce to his talents and seek him for inspiration. If I can provide such a window on life as Galeano does; then I am truly blessed.