SEEKING THE STUFFED POTATO MAN

Santa Rosalia sunrise
A wave goodbye from "Lucky Dog" as she leaves the harbor at dawn

At 7am we bid adios to “Lucky Dog” and “EZ Duz It,” both heading south to Puerto Escondido. Then we motored the half-mile over to the new marina. Better accommodations by far.

Before we began this trip we planned to have a slip at the new marina, but I couldn’t find a phone number or email address anywhere on the internet for reservations. I couldn't even get a phone number from other Singlar locations. It's not a large facility, so it's a good idea to call or email in advance.

So here’s the information, for anyone wanting to visit Santa Rosalia and stay at the new marina:
Telephone/fax: (615) 152-17-69,
email barenocota@yahoo.com.
Carlos Cota Bareño, the manager, is an affable and helpful young man who studied English in Arizona. His assistants, Arturo and Alberto, and the dock security men all met us when we arrived in a brisk blow and helped us get settled.

We are down to one laptop, as the Capt’s took a flying leap off the nav station during our trip across the Sea, and he has needed mine to find software on the Internet that would help him recover his hard disk, and to check weather. The internet access here is in a lobby below the office. So, to get over my withdrawal symtoms, I walked the entire length of the four main streets in town, looking for blank CD disks, buying more polvorones (my favorite Mexican cookie) at the 100-year-old Boleo bakery, and getting oriented. I watched a troupe of young folklorico dancers practicing in a big public building, while others were busy assembling costumes.

There’s also both directions of Hwy. One to explore, and the mesas, where the thousands of Mexican miners who worked for the French company are buried.

We had planned to be home by tonight, but a front has moved in and we’re delaying our departure until at least Saturday. There was rain last night, and today has been solidly overcast, but we can each warm up in our choice of three hot showers, as opposed to a “mist” which is all that was offered in the old marina. Life is good, and getting better.

Another item for our cuisine report: last night after a long, relaxed stroll through town, we found the papas rellenos (stuffed baked potato) vendor, whose stand is on the patio of the Angel Cafe, a Chinese restaurant. The Chinese use it daytimes, the potato man at night. We each had a big potato filled with cheese, carne asada, corn and cream. A platter of embellishments was set before us: guacamole, salsa fresca, salsa caliente, radishes, roasted small onions and cucumbers. Neither of us was able to finish more than half, and we brought the rest back to the boat. I told the stuffed potato man and his wife that I, too, was now "relleno," and that I would send my friends to him.

We walked back through the streets lively with music and lights, Christmas displays everywhere we looked. Stores that had been closed every time we'd walked by before had their doors wide open. SR definitely wakes up at night.

Rain today has kept me close to the boat, but now it has finally let up and I want to make one last tour of town before dark. Tomorrow, 8am, we set sail for home.

BAJA'S BEST-KEPT MARINA SECRET

The new Marina Santa Rosalia

We are back on Highway One, the same highway we used to live on in California, that runs south all the way to the tip of Baja, and north to Canada.

There are two marinas here, the one we’re staying in at present, and a new one which we visited this morning for a look at the facilities. Their rates are $1 per foot per night, but we can get a lower rate if we sign up for a week, and if we have to leave earlier, we get credit for the remaining nights. There's only one dock, with slips on only one side, so space is somewhat limited. More might have been added except for a change in government. The manager, Carlos, told us the Singlar company which built this and a number of other marinas, had considerable support when President Vicente Fox was in office, but Felipe Calderón, the new president, isn’t enthusiastic, and Singlar is preparing to sell their marinas off, one at a time. I hope they’ll have an adequate maintenance budget; right now everything is in excellent shape, best I've seen yet, and it would be sad to see it deteriorate.

There’s a pool and hot tub (they ask two hours’ notice to heat the hot tub), internet access in the lobby, and everything is clean, new and spiffy.

SANTA ROSALIA -- THE CUISINE

Murals of mining life 150 years ago in Santa Rosalia, at Tesco's Pollito restaurant

Yesterday on arrival we had dinner at a seafood restaurant, where just about everything was 60 pesos or more, and everyone was pleased with their dinner except me: I made the mistake of ordering pollo mole which was just three pieces of boiled chicken covered with storebought mole sauce. (whine) I do a much better mole.

Today we tried Tesco’s Pollito, and everybody was pleased. Cleaner, closer by several blocks, cheaper, nicer surroundings, with rustic murals depicting the mining community and the Indians with the missionaries... Our new favorite restaurant. I had chiles rellenos made from poblano chiles, muy rico! Tesco's was originally known for its chicken, but the menu covers just about anything you'd want.

Tonight we dined out again, this time at Playas Negras on the malecon overlooking the one small black sand beach in town. Santa Rosalia will never be a beach town, but for that reason maybe they’ll get by without the McDonald’s and Burger King we see elsewhere. We shared a big table with the trio of women from "Kismet," all residents of La Paz. Playas Negras' pizza was surprisingly good, and a "chica" was more than enough for the Capt and me.

BLOWING INTO BAJA

The imposing Santa Rosalia train depot is now an office building, with a traditional bandstand in the foreground.
Santa Rosalia's most famous landmark, the Eiffel church
An ugly reminder of the mining days, still teetering on the shoreline, this structure was part of the system for loading ingots into ships.
The Boleo Mine, Santa Rosalia

New discoveries: I really like sailing in a flotilla, and I like Santa Rosalia.

Our fleet of three left San Carlos at 10pm Sunday night and through much of the night were able to stay together, until the wind came up, the waves got rough and each of of us dealt with them the best we knew how. Nobody stayed directly on course, it was far too rough. “EZ Duz It” took a more northerly approach, and “Lucky Dog” took the middle course. They arrived a couple of hours before us. By 2 pm we were all safe in the old marina. Wooden docks, a ramshackle “yacht club” building, and the spooky old buildings that used to be the center of the French copper mining company’s production in the 1800s.

We did a preliminary exploration yesterday, primarily seeking the famous hotdog man and the place that sells stuffed baked potatoes. The baked potato place doesn’t open until 6 and it was only 3, so we hope to get there again some early evening. Ditto for the hotdog guy. I guess when you have a nationwide reputation you don’t have to work all day.

But the Eiffel church is still there, even more charming than its pictures. Most of it is made of metal plates, with concrete wings on each side. It was designed about the same time as the Eiffel Tower and erected originally in Belgium, but M. Boleo, owner of the copper mines, bought it and had it dismantled and shipped here to Santa Rosalia in 1854 to make his French workers feel more at home. For the same reason, many of the buildings and homes here are made European-style of wood imported from southern Mexico. I’ve seen not a single new structure since I arrived.

DO YOU WANNA DANCE?

A GENTLEMAN NEVER SAILS TO WEATHER (nor a lady neither)

This is NOT our boat. We may be sailors, but we are not insane..yet

"A gentleman never sails to weather" is one of those famous mariners' adages, along with "Never start a voyage on a Friday" and "Never whistle onboard."

And there's "The best-laid plans...yada yada" which seems appropriate at the moment.

While we innocently slept last night, Sailflow, one of the online weather predictors we rely on, closed our window of opportunity, and now says if we go tonight, we will hit 15 knots of wind coming from the wrong direction, in the middle of the sea. They could be wrong, of course. But just in case they're right, now we're considering embarking on Sunday.

For Thanksgiving we joined some friends at a beautiful house up past the golf course, where we had a potluck. Forget about turkey: we had expertly grilled halibut and dorado. The other two couples we'll be sailing with were there, and we had a chance to make some plans.

MASTERPIECES OF THE MARINE CARPENTER'S ART

Our master marine carpenter/designer friend G. recently sent me some photos of his latest work, to share with my (four or five) esteemed readers. He uses local wood, such as parota, Mexican cedar, Silver Bali from Indonesia and kauri, and brings out the beauty in the wood with every piece. The overhead cabinet is in a V-berth, also lined in wood. There's also a dinette table and a storage locker beneath a settee, as well as cabinetry for a local house. He's not cheap, but he builds works of art. Oarsome, as our friend on "Arigato Jack!" would say.

WHAT? NO BUSHES TO PEE ON?

Chica is going to have her first sea crossing tomorrow. It's going to be interesting to see how she manages, but the seas are supposed to be pretty flat and winds light. I'll take lots of paper towels and Fabuloso.

QUE RICO! PROVISIONING, PARTE DOS

It's a papaya and banana kind of day. I've been sipping a yummy P&B smoothie (in my special tianguis "Bliss" mug) while slicing up fruit for the dryer.

In a few hours they'll perfume the whole house. The Mexicans often dredge their papaya slices in sugar before putting them out in the sun to dry (I don't even want to know what they do about the flies), but I'm going to do them a naturale. Who knows, I might use some in a shrimp and papaya curry! I only wish I had discovered the giant mangoes while they were in season; they're perfect for drying but I found out too late.

There's a sense of urgency around the casa today. I woke up whining to myself that there's too much to do all of a sudden, but I'm starting to get a bit excited now that my wheels are in motion. Yesterday we met with the folks on two other sailboats and firmed up plans to buddy-boat across the Sea of Cortez to Santa Rosalia on Thursday night around 10pm. We'll sail all night and arrive somewhere around noon. I'm a little leery of the fog that's been creeping in daily of late, but we have among us three GPS's, two radars, three VHF radios and three captains who have done this before, so we should be OK. Hopefully we'll have a bright moon long enough to get safely out of the anchorage and into the Sea.

The Capt is finishing up the wind-and-sunscreens he's making for the sides and front of the dodger. Then he still has to get the boards up around the bow (crucial now that we have a puppy aboard), and string on the new lifelines. I need to inventory what food we already have aboard, load my kayak on deck, bathe both dogs and give Sofia a haircut, pack warm clothes (it's supposed to cool off right after Thanksgiving) and find the number for the new Santa Rosalia Marina so we can reserve three slips. And probably other errands I haven't thought of yet.

There's very little information on Santa Rosalia marina online, and I've decided to make a goal of getting lots of pix and information for a blog, maybe even for a handout for cruisers heading across the Sea.

REVOLUTIONS: ALWAYS HONORED AFTER THEY'RE OVER

Emiliano Zapata and Pancho Villa posed with their dedicated female supporters for a photo during one of their confabs.

Here in Mexico, we're celebrating the Revolution of 1910. That's the one starring Pancho Villa and Emiliano Zapata, as opposed to the one started by Padre Hildalgo a hundred years previously against the Spanish aristocrats.

President Porfirio Diaz, (who ironically won on a reform platform), jailed his opponent Francisco Madero for running against him with a slate of radical democratic principles including land reform. Madero officially denounced Diaz on Nov. 20, 1910, called for insurrection and declared himself president.

Villa and Zapata backed Madero when he was released from prison, and by 1911 Madero had won the presidency (Diaz having resigned and escaped to France). But Zapata became disgruntled when the promised changes weren't immediately forthcoming, and went home to Morelos to set up his own government. The result was a bloody mess that lasted six years, with rampaging factions driving landowners off their property, probably destroying more than they saved in the process.
Carranza
Finally, Venustiano Carranza was elected president and the Constitution of 1917 was written, introducing the ejido or farm cooperative concept, which didn't actually come into its own until 1934 until Lazaro Cardenas' term as president. Today, ejidos constitute half the land ownership in Mexico. So the many ejido residents have a special reason to celebrate this holiday.

For the parades, the kids dress up as Zapata, Villa and their female counterparts, with enormous sombreros and mustaches, toy rifles, banderillas and baby dolls (a lot of babies were born in those camps). A few in yesterday's parade brandished clubs made from tree limbs to commemorate the many peasants who had nothing but sticks for weapons.

No machetes, though. While I'm sure the machete was wielded frequently in the Revolution, I've yet to see a toy machete.

Factoids:
• Pancho Villa was such a dedicated teetotaler, he executed drunks in his forces for cowardice and treason.
• One of Lazaro Cardenas' first acts as president was to cut his own salary in half.
• Women of the Revolution such as Carmen Robles, Carmen Amelia Flores, Limbania Fernandez, Beatriz González Ortega and Juana Gutierrez de Mendoza among others, were more than just camp followers assigned to feed, nurse and clean up after their men. Several attained rank in Zapata's army, and were jailed for revolutionary activities, espoused their ideas in publications such as La Mujer Mexicana, helped develop policy for the new order, spied and smuggled arms, dressed as men and fought as soldaderas. Beatriz Gonzalez was a nurse with Pancho Villa's forces who tended wounded Federales as well as revolutionaries. To prevent Villa from executing prisoners in her care, she burned their uniforms. When he found out, she was called on the carpet, but he eventually saw things her way.

Que mujer, that Beatriz.

I LOVE A PARADE

San Carlos' Revolution Day Kids' Parade...click on image to enlarge

UGLY FOOD = BEAUTIFUL PROVISIONS

Chorizo-flavor and original-flavor TVP, and a few dried (not sundried, but darned if I can tell the difference) tomatoes, plus a handful of fresh cilantro I plan to dry for our next voyage

Since this is primarily a sailing blog, I thought I'd actually address a sailing matter today, lest everyone assume I've "swallowed the anchor," as they refer to former sailors who've returned to the lubberly life.

As 1st Mate and quartermaster, I do the provisioning for our voyages. A challenge because: 1) on our next trip we'll have to go without refrigeration as the 12V fridge is on the fritz. Back to the old cooler box with ice routine. Messy and undependable, and we'll have to limit many of the more vulnerable foods that could go bad easily, like raw chicken and meat. Also, 2) We don't exactly know when we'll be going, as it depends on the weather; so I can't rush down to the market and stock up until the last minute. And 3) my first day out I'm always a touch queasy and have NO appetite, so I want a no-brainer dish I can heat up and serve without having to look at it/smell it/mess with it much. Can't have the Capt starving because of my fluttery insides.

To reduce the stress, I'm getting some goodies together early. Foods I can prepare now that will still be good when it's time to haul anchor and head for the Sea. My allies in this endeavor are the crockpot, food dryer and freezer. Plus the miracle ingredient, the traveler's dream, TVP or texturized vegetable protein.

TVP is not pretty to look at in its original state. But it's lightweight, compact and needs no refrigeration, requires only 10 minutes to reconstitute and provides the protein and meaty texture desired in such recipes as eggplant parmesan, lasagne, chili, tacos, enchiladas...well, you get the idea. We use the original unflavored kind or the chorizo flavor, which is nice in Mexican food. The chicken, pork and beef flavors are too faux for me.

I've sliced tomatoes, green and yellow bell papers and laid them in the trays of the food dryer I bought a few months ago at tianguis. What a find! A hundred pesos ($10) and it's better than the one I had before that I spent $45 on! Dried veggies can be Ziplocked in small bags and although it's recommended they be refrigerated, I've found they're fine for a few weeks at room temp. In a few days I'll dry some slices of papaya, apples and bananas, which are an improvement on candy for night-watch treats. Dried produce is fairly ugly to look at, too, but really enhances a pot of stew, soup, omelet or a stir-fry. Some ports of call are somewhat limited in vegetable selection. I'll dry some cilantro, too...I love its earthy aroma.

Into the crockpot will go pinto beans today and navy beans tomorrow, for chili and soup, which I'll freeze in two-serving containers. These will help keep the cooler cold when we're underway and the ice is starting to melt.

We'll be taking eggs, too. Here in Mexico, they're sold at room temperature and as long as you never put them in the fridge, they can be kept in your proverbial cool, dark place and won't go bad for weeks. Really, trust me. We've done this a number of times, and we're still alive.

Canned goods will help fill in the gaps: corn, salsa, marinara sauce. Rice and pasta are handy, but they require more water than most foods to prepare, a factor we have to consider when we're stocking bulky 5-gallon jugs of potable water.

The Capt is making his own preparations for the upcoming trip. He's getting acquainted with the new-to-us heavy duty canvas sewing machine, creating a shadecloth shield that will wrap around the dodger and give us some much-needed shade and protection from the wind when we're underway. I'll get a photo of it when he's finished.

At the moment he's grilling us some steaks. Ah, I love a man who can cook and sew. He bakes cookies, too! I'll have to order a batch (part of my job as quartermaster) before we sail.

SOCIAL SCIENCE AT THE SALOON

Mad scientist as entertainer. Let's just hope he remembers which beaker is holding his scotch

Could scientific/comic/magician routines replace bar bands? When the Capt first mentioned this New York Times article this morning, I pictured people carrying volatile chemicals into big city watering holes and conducting competitive, dangerous experiments at the bar. "Oh, you think that's cool, huh? Well, watch this!"

But apparently so far the newest thing in gin mill entertainment is much better organized than that.

The band takes a break, a guy steps onstage with a bag of tricks, and proceeds to dramatize a scientific principle. A flower dipped in liquid nitrogen will shatter like glass when hit with a hammer, for instance. Magic! Unlike the science classes we were forced to take, these sessions are interesting, and you don't have to take notes (though I'm sure somebody does). Unlike high school classes, the routines are kept to 20-30 minutes, and the presenter has to keep it lively or risk being booed off the stage.

There's a hint of the mad scientist, a sense of danger..."I like being a little scared. I like hearing that we may be hit by an asteroid," says one fan at the Secret Science Club in Brooklyn. After all, we're fascinated by weird science in movies, right? Now you can watch it live, with a drink in front of you while rubbing elbows (or whatever) with nubile members of the opposite (or whatever) sex. What's not to like?

I like the idea that young people who dozed through endless lectures in chemistry, biology, etc. (like yours truly) now have a second chance to wake up to the wonders of science. Maybe it'll even inspire a handful to go back to school and pursue their potential.

Or, better yet, give some public school science teachers some ideas for the next time they see that roomful of students start to nod off.

MYSTERIOUS DEATHS CLOSE DOLPHINARIUM

Sad news about the Dolphinarium. Two dolphins have died, and the other two were returned to the company in Cancun that had leased them. There have been no reports yet on what killed them. So the Dolphinarium is closed for now.

The Dolphinarium hadn't been open long, but it was the pride of San Carlos. A lengthy article in the San Carlos Times described the work therapists were doing for children with autism and Down's Syndrome using the dolphins, in costly sessions that were in part offset by visits from the public. Curious about the dolphins' effect on withdrawn and austistic kids, I found quite a lot of credible information on the Internet. Here's a PBS article on the healing powers of dolphins.



For $40 anyone could watch the dolphins cavorting in the pool, but for $120 you could interact and swim with them, as did a friend of ours from Washington. She said she received careful instruction about interacting with the dolphins, such as how to reach out to them without being threatening, and passively allowing them to approach and touch. Two or three trained staff were a few feet away at all times. She learned to "shake hands," received a "kiss" and, grasping the dorsal fins of two dolphins, hitched a ride with them.

I have mixed feelings about keeping dolphins in captivity. I've seen a tank where show dolphins are kept at Nuevo Vallarta Marina that seems entirely too small. Some people deplore the whole idea of dolphin therapy, and call it "pseudo science."

But these dolphin-assisted therapy centers are operating worldwide now, from Florida to Russia. If they are to be captured and used as healers, they should receive the best care, the best lives, possible.

THAR'S GOLD IN THAT THAR SUNDAE!

More evidence that some people have more money than they know what to do with: Recently a dessert called "Frrrozen Haute Chocolate" was unveiled at a restaurant called Serendipity in Manhattan, with a price tag of $25,000. It came with a chocolate sauce made of 28 kinds of cocoa beans, laced with edible gold flakes, a chocolate truffle (from a chocolatier that charges $2,600 a pound) and an 18K gold bracelet with 1-carat diamonds.

But even a haute cuisine eatery with $25K desserts is subject to the requirements of the Health Department, which recently reported the presence of mice and cochroaches on the premises and closed it down. If you were booking your ticket to go try it out, sorry about that. Have a cookie.

PS - You could get a small sailboat for $25K and have a lot more fun with it.

TAG, I'M IT

All this time I thought I only had four or five readers for this blog, and now I've been tagged in the blogger game that's going around (wonder what it's called, by the way?) Anyway, I'll play along as long as there's no guilt associated with it, like those pyramid things that threaten bad luck, financial ruin or death.

Apparently not much is expected of me (unless the dunning letter comes later). I supply eight heretofore unrevealed facts about myself, and tag eight other people. So here goes.

1) I never got married until I was 50 years old.

2) I'm not religious in the conventional sense. I believe in a Higher Power and the 12 Steps as a guide for living. If/when Jesus comes back, I don't think he'd look with favor on the lavish gilded cathedrals and lavish churches, the wealthy TV evangelists or the pomp and pomposity of most established religions. However, I could easily see him taking part in an AA meeting. He might even have some good jokes.

3) The greatest pleasure I've ever had with my clothes on was singing in harmony with a group. I've sung in everything from classical and jazz choirs to Doo-Wop groups to a women's trio, and finding another group to sing with is one of my greatest ambitions. Until then, I'll harmonize with Linda Ronstadt and keep wishing and hoping for other like-minded people to come into my life. If all else fails, I'll get a multi-track recorder and harmonize with myself.

4) I'm so smitten with Mexico, I'm going native. I'd get dark brown contacts if I thought I could wear them, and a black wig if it weren't so hot down here. I want to sing in Spanish, take part in Spanish culture (a posada at Christmas, making altars for Dia de Los Muertes), learn to dance hot salsa have Mexican friends and most of all, understand what they're saying when they lay that rapid-fire rap on me.

5) I'm not afraid of dying, but I'm terrified of having Alzheimer's or dementia. This is not an unrealistic fear, as my mother, most of her siblings and two of my dad's sibs suffered from one or the other.

6) I love music, love how it gets inside me sometimes so I can't sit still, and when I'm alone I play it loud and dance around the house with my dogs. The good thing about this is that I can actually look forward to solitude instead of being lonely. Music is a wonderful companion.

7) I get hypnotized by the full moon.

8) I love traveling by boat or car because it feels so independent, and don't like flying because it feels too much like being in a herd.

Harvest moon, from my friend Sue Keith of Susantiques in Aloha, OR (thanks, Sue!)

IT'S THE GREAT AMERICAN SMOKEOUT

Anti-smoking ashtray, pictured on another blog

Today, November 15, is the annual Great American Smokeout.

I'm thinking, with love and compassion rather than animosity, of the people in my life who smoke. Remembering when the Capt struggled with quitting and finally made it with the Patch. Recalling with shame a photo of myself with a cigarette in my hand, breastfeeding my baby son. And when I quit 30 years ago, mainly by ending my relationships with the smokers in my life, a radical strategy I can't recommend. My dad, who smoked all his life and died of a heart attack one day, alone in his car on the highway after a rock-hunting expedition. A very attractive Mexican doctor who smokes, married to a longsuffering gringo who doesn't.

And the many restaurants here in San Carlos where we'd like to dine out if not for the folks who all light up at the same time and envelope the room in smoke.

Multiply this cloud of smoke by four or five at a single table, add a couple more tables like that, and you see why we don't dine out much in Mexico

For anyone ready to declare independence from smoking, there are tips throughout the Internet for those who'd like to free themselves of this powerful habit; The South Beach Diet site offered a list today. And the official site for the Smokeout is here.

MORE ABOUT POSADA (than you ever wanted to know)

Posada re-enactment with a live burro

Yesterday Lolita and Sylvia (who's also taking singing lessons with us now) taught me the song, "Pidiendo Posada," the Pilgrims and Innkeepers sing for Posada. Every other line has a series of notes that go up and down the scale (I know there's a musical term for that, guess I should google it). When it's done right it sounds almost operatic. But the lyrics are unexpected; the Innkeepers have some funny lines. The Mazatlan paper "Pacific Pearl" has a short description of the tradition:

The time-honored Posada (or "inn" ) season begins on Dec. 16 and continues each night through Christmas Eve... To follow the traditional form, on an evening during the Posada season a family and friends gather to pray the rosary in front of a "nacimiento" or creche representing the Bethlehem scene. Then they form a candlelight procession headed by someone carrying the Mary and Joseph figures on a tray. Sometimes the procession includes children dressed as Mary and Joseph, with perhaps the Mary character riding on a live burro. They march outdoors around a patio or along a street where neighbors have agreed to participate, singing "villancicos" (carols) in which they ask for "posada" or shelter in the inn.

Here's another interesting tidbit from Wikipedia:

The Posada (literally inn) tradition began in Mexico in 1587 when an Augustine order requested permission of Pope Sixto V to authorize a Novena, a nine-day Christmas celebration. The Augustinians, who used theater, drama and song in the process of conversion, not only wished to tell the story leading to Christ's birth, but wanted to supercede the Aztecs' twenty-day annual December festival dedicated to Huitzilopochtli, their war god.

The Aztec war god Huitzilopochtli was a nasty piece of work whose father was a ball of feathers. The moment he was born, he killed most of his 400 brothers and sisters just for practice. But he was also the god who sent the Aztecs to found Mexico City, telling them to look for an eagle on the rock (eating a bird or a snake, the legend has been tampered with) and named them Mexicans...I don't suppose they dared refuse such a bad-tempered deity.

I've also been researching the recipes for the goodies the Innkeepers offer when they finally relent and let the Pilgrims in. This one is probably just a version of arroz con leche:

Arroz Dulce (Rice Sweet)

3/4 cup rice (uncooked)
2/3 cup sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
4 cups milk
1 cup rich cream
1/4 tsp. salt

Scald milk. Put the rice into a deep baking dish, cover with the hot milk, and bake in a moderate oven for 3 hours, or until the rice is soft. Stir occasionally during first hour to prevent sticking. If necessary, add more hot milk. When almost done, add vanilla, sugar, and cream, and finish baking.

I think some raisins or maybe dried cranberries would be great in it, if one doesn't mind messing with tradition. Some experiments before Christmas are in order...

One more recipe

Buñuelos de Navidad -Christmas Sweet Fritters
10 servings

2 cups water
1 lb. flour
2 whole eggs
1 egg yolk
1/2 tsp salt
2 tbsp anisette
9 oz. lard (see below)
9 oz. piloncillo (raw sugar in a cone)

Boil one tablespoon anisette in a cup of water and leave to cool. Mix and sift the flour, baking powder and salt. Mix in the eggs, the yolk and the anisette in water, as required, and knead until the dough stiffens. Form into small balls and roll out on a floured board until very thin. Continue flattening by hand on a napkin and place on a floured table. Heat the lard. Fry one by one in the lard.

Heat the piloncillo in one cup of water with the remaining tablespoon of anisette. This mixture will thicken to a light syrup. Remove from heat and strain.

Serve the fritters, broken into pieces, in bowls and pour the syrup over them.

(I fervently hope nobody will mind if I fry my bunuelos in veggie oil instead of lard.)

THE FLOWER LADIES

It's been over a week since Dia de Los Muertos, but I'm still working on an ofrenda for my dad. These things take time. Maybe by next Nov. 2 I'll have it finished, and I'll add some of his favorite treats. Just for the day...he didn't like ants either. But I'll have to guess what his favorite treats were, there's nobody left to ask.

Yesterday I needed tostadas (corn tortillas baked crisp) for chilaquilas, one of my favorite dishes, and I walked down to the fruteria. At the bus stop were two women carrying bouquets of flowers made of papel de seda (tissue paper), who were about to board the bus when a gringo couple stopped their car and jumped out, eager to buy flowers. I speeded up my pace so I could get some too.

"My wife has been wanting to buy some of these for months," the husband told me. "Me, too," I said, wishing I'd brought more cash. The big flowers sold for 12 pesos each, and there were smaller ones for 5 pesos.

One of the women was dressed in biblical costume and barefoot, and carried a long stick of wood with more than a dozen flowers on it, bigger than cabbages, in vivid reds, oranges, blues, greens, yellows... Just what I wanted for Daddy's ofrenda.

The flower ladies had probably been part of the children's parade yesterday morning. Darn, I'd have liked to photograph the parade, but next Monday is Revolution Day so hopefully there'll be another opportunity.

I noticed the bus driver waited patiently while the flower ladies sold their blossoms and wound the wire stems around the bases of each one to make them more compact and easier to carry. They looked like a bouquet of half-opened buds when she handed them to me.

To me, silk flowers always a disappointment because they try so hard to look real but you know they're not. I really dislike plastic blooms, though I know they have their place in brightening cemeteries. But Mexican paper flowers are charming because they don't try to be anything but what they are.

I arranged my flowers in a bead-and-wire basket from tianguis. I've also collected two blue votive candles, an incense burner, a fan coral and pink-lined shell from the beach and a colorful shawl from (I think) Guatemala. There are photos of him as a teenager with his family, holding me (at six months) on the steps of the Capitol in DC, and of him in a sailor suit at age six, about the time the family came over from Holland. I think he'd like it.

WIDENING MY (SPANISH) HORIZONS

My favorite resource for learning Spanish, singing in Spanish and warm Mexican-style friendship is my maestra Lolita (at left), shown here singing a duet with her friend Blanca at a reunion of compañeros who performed professionally as a troupe 30 years ago. They still sound good to me!

Always looking for new resources for learning Spanish, today I found don Quixote, a website that offers regular free lessons, vocabulary, even blogging! It's not the easiest website to navigate through, because it offers not only online lessons but on-site live courses and I kept stumbling into pages listing intensives in Spain. Not that I wouldn't love to spend some time in Spain, but it's not going to happen anytime soon.

Don Quixote offers vocabulary lessons with conjunction lists, recipes, jokes, games, song lyrics, even baby names. The website is created in Spain and is very Spanish-centric as opposed to Mexican-centric, but maybe it'll broadening my horizons. And if I try many of those recipes, I'll be widening in other ways, too.

As soon as my blog's up and running, I'll share my don Quixote URL here. Warning: I'm going to write in Spanish. If you can read Spanish you may find it laughable, and if you can't read Spanish you may find it incomprehensible.

IMAGINE MY SURPRISE...

This morning the Capt finally got around to mentioning that he's been blogging too! He writes mainly about his progress on our project boat, the Green Flash. But he has so many interests and talents, other topics are bound to come up.

So, please bookmark Green Flash for future visits if you've any interest in boats, boatbuilding, Morgans, sailing, Mexico, jazz, painting, software, etc. etc.

My own Renaissance man.

THE SAGA OF 'DISMASTING DAY'

Veterans' Day is historically significant for us in more ways than one. At our house we call November 11 "Dismasting Day," and my guest blogger, the Capt, will tell the tale.

"Fair winds and following seas, and once in a while, a gale."

We purchased our first boat in October, 1993 in Brisbane Marina- a Bayliner Buccaneer 25 footer. We promptly (but slowly) moved her to a berth in the Petaluma Marina near our home (Petaluma, CA). Because of our newly acquired and shaky sailing skills, and the boat’s lightweight structure, we named her “Pollo del Mar”... the “Chicken of the Sea.”
The "Pollo del Mar," our first sailboat, moored in Angel Island Cove. (This particular model is so beamy for its size, it's often referred to as a "pregnant guppy.")

It was wonderful to have her just minutes away for tinkering and polishing, but if we wanted to use the boat, it meant a long trip motoring (12 miles at 3-4 mph) down the Petaluma River to San Pablo Bay and back. This arrangement required spending the night in the boat somewhere in San Francisco or San Pablo Bay. A simple “daysail” was out of the question, and we often found ourselves motoring back up the river in the dead of night.

After exploring a number of possibilities, we chose the Loch Lomond Marina in San Rafael, CA. The Loch was old, a little beat-up, but cheap, just 35 minutes from Petaluma and 15 minutes from sailing. So, on Thursday, November 11, 1993, Jay (1st Mate's son) and I took it upon ourselves to move the "Pollo” to her new slip in Marin County.

The day was warm and slightly hazy. I, as Captain, had checked the weather carefully and it was a go. We left Petaluma at 8am and reached the mouth of the river at noon. We hoisted sail and made good time, arriving within a mile of our destination when the wind suddenly started building in speed.

Because the entrance channel to San Rafael was shallow, the wind-driven water soon developed into short and choppy conditions and the rigging (the guy wires or cables holding up the mast) started vibrating with a high hum. I decided to drop sail because the boat was getting overpowered by the wind... and the wind continued to build. The chop turned violent and the rigging started screaming in protest. The mainsail came down quickly, but somehow I lost my grip on the jib, and it wrapped itself around the forestay, the cable at the front of the boat holding up the mast. Within seconds, the mast broke in half and the whole thing collapsed on the deck of the boat. Jay and I pulled the loose cables onto the boat so they wouldn’t get caught in the propeller of our outboard.

We started up the outboard and because of the choppy seas, the propeller would lift out of the water, scream as the resistance of the water was left behind, plunge back in and repeat the process. We couldn’t make any headway and the motor overheated and died. Attempts to restart were futile.

By now we were upwind of the pilings of the San Rafael-Richmond Bridge and the wind and waves were pushing us toward the concrete pillars supporting the bridge. The impact would crush the Pollo and throw us into the frigid water surrounded by breaking waves, gale force winds, shards of fiberglass and stainless steel cables. We would surely die.

I picked up the mike on the radio and called in a Mayday to the US Coast Guard. They responded instantly, and told us to put down an anchor (!!!), put on our life vests and stay on the radio. Thankfully, the anchor caught and held and the Coasties showed up 20 minutes later in a 40 foot steel cutter.

With the anchor holding the bow of the boat, the chop lifted and dropped the Pollo 4 to 5 feet every 5 seconds... it gave new meaning to the word “buccaneer!” But, the Coast Guard was able to drop a sailor into our cockpit and he was able to maneuver to the bow of the Pollo and pass a line from the cutter to me. The sailor took the tiller and I crawled forward through the tangle of sails, cables and broken aluminum to attach the tow rope to the bow, and cut the anchor line with a knife I had in my teeth (just like in the pirate movies).

The cutter pulled us into the marina and did a quick safety inspection of the Pollo. We passed the inspection with a “Gold” rating. The Coast Guard Captain told us they had clocked the wind at 42 knots (about 50 mph) and he admitted that they, too, had been caught off guard by this sudden and unpredicted gale.

The day won’t be forgotten. It turned me into another type of veteran... and I’m sure that Jay can say the same.

LATE NEWS FLASH: Ironically, today Jay emailed me the specs of a sailboat he was considering. He's got a speedboat and never before talked about buying a sailboat.

HAPPY VETERANS' DAY, DADDY

My dad, Henry John Buys, served in the Navy during World War II as a Seabee stationed in Newfoundland.

GO JINGLE YOUR BELLS SOMEWHERE ELSE

Yesterday I picked up my renewed FM-3 in Guaymas. I found the Aduana's office by myself (after wandering lost for just a bit), went in and asked if it was ready, signed my name at least eight times on various documents and even joked a little with the woman at the counter about making sure I'm not late, all in Spanish. If my accent, grammar or poor vocabulary amused her, she didn't let on.

Then I stopped at the big supermarket, Ley, for unsweetened yogurt (very hard to find in Mexico). As I walked in I was surrounded by counters loaded with gaudy Christmas decorations, all made in China, all typical of Northamerican themes. Where are the luminarias, the traditional Mexican holiday treats and piñatas? My ears were assaulted by a recording of a children's group singing "The 12 Days of Christmas" and then "Jingle Bells," in raucous competition with another sound system in the dairy section blasting out Mexican rap, and the usual voice-over of some young woman announcing the daily specials.

I'm always a little late getting into the Christmas spirit, but this year there's one thing I'd like to do early: learn the tune and lyrics to the song "Pidiendo Posada," traditionally sung at the Posadas, the house-to-house processions depicting the "Santos Peregrinos"(holy pilgrims) seeking an inn for the night, that are to me one of the most appealing of the Mexican Christmas customs.

When I want to research customs of my new homeland, MexicoConnect is often a good place to start, and they didn't let me down when I went looking for the song. To hear it, I found a version on YouTube. The boys played the Innkeeper, indoors, while the girls sang the role of Joseph, outside the door. There was a lot of giggling, most were singing flat and I didn't get much of an idea of what the song sounds like, so I'll have to refer to my mentor, Lolita.

I noticed in the video, by the way, that most of the participants were singing from lyrics sheets, as though it had been a long time since they had experienced a posada.

Here's how an ex-pat described a local posada:

Here in Pátzcuaro, various neighborhoods between December 16th and the 24th pretty much shut off the street, light bonfires outside of those houses participating and bring out huge vats of a spicy fruit punch.

Now, doesn't that sound like fun?

PLUG OF THE WEEK

The newest iMac, sleeker than ever in anodized aluminum and glass

I have been telling all my PC-user friends for years they'd be happier with a MacIntosh. "Oh, no, the Mac is more expensive," they protest. Take a look at this article, and you may change your mind. I know I sound like an ad, but I'm just another satisfied, grateful Mac user.

Why I like Mac:
1. Ease and pleasure of use. I've occasionally had to resort to a PC and couldn't wait to get back to my own Mac.
2. I can actually resell my Mac when I'm ready to upgrade--its resale value is much higher than a comparable PC
3. I have been using them since 1987 and I have yet to have a virus.

So there.

RANT OF THE WEEK

A sad sight: the beach at Crissy Field is closed due to an oil spill in San Francisco Bay (AP photo on Yahoo)

"If you can sail in San Francisco Bay, you can sail anywhere," we were informed by our mentors at the funky Sausalito Cruising Club where we first learned to sail, raced, rubbed elbows with seasoned sailors and took the Coast Guard training course in the mid-90s. For more than two years we spent just about every weekend on the Bay, first on our Bayliner Buccaneer,'Pollo Del Mar' (yes, that means Chicken of the Sea) and later on our Morgan 33, "Bliss." We explored just about every mile from San Pablo Bay to the Delta to the Oakland Estuary and Redwood City. One of the biggest thrills of my life was the first time we sailed under the Golden Gate Bridge.

So imagine my reaction when I discovered today that there's been an oil spill from a tanker hitting one of the pilings on the Bay Bridge. Although it's rated a "medium-size spill," SF Bay isn't really very big so this means the oil is reaching all of it. Seabirds are already being found covered in oil.

The bridge piling wasn't damaged, but a big gash in the hull of the tanker released about 58,000 gallons of muck. Obviously the Cosco corporation out of China doesn't deem it necessary to provide double hulls on their vessels, much too expensive. The San Francisco Bay, its wildlife, the many whose living depends on it, and the many more who enjoy it will pay dearly for Cosco's shortsightedness.

"GREEN FLASH" FANTASY I

The Capt has been busy at the "drawing board" aka computer graphics program, developing ideas for the "Green Flash," our project boat. Here's the latest, which he calls the Flying Saucer. The dark stripe on the upper stern is a wraparound window to brighten up the master berth.

We had a record number of check-ins this morning. It's the time of year for many arrivals and departures, as folks drive down from the States, haul their crafts out of the storage yard and prepare to sail west to Baja or south to Mazatlan and Puerto Vallarta.

I'm noticing names as boaters check into the Morning Net on the VHF radio and so far I've heard "401K" (what they have to show for their retirement fund, I guess) and "Seaquel." Unlike power yachts and fishing boats, sailboats are seldom name after women. I wonder if that has anything to do with the potential of the sailing urge to bust up marriages. I suppose it was an act of faith on the Capt's part to name ours after me. Those who do use women's names often choose their moms' monikers, much safer.

A STUPENDOUS SWAPMEET

Lucy, the Goldendoodle

Yesterday's swap meet in our front yard was the biggest yet. The Capt estimated at least 50 people showed up, many with big vans, SUVs and trailers loaded with boat stuff for sale. Coconuts* were exchanged with feverish speed for dinghies, outboards, sails, piles of shiny stainless steel and brass fixtures and fittings, chart books, flags, galley conveniences...even an RV fridge was for sale! Famed local author Jinx Swartz hung out on our porch selling and signing books and I had a chance to ask her a little about her writing process: to outline or not? (Yes, she outlines but keeps it loose.) Karyn the Cat Lady was selling calendars for the local animal rescue group, and we talked ferals. Isabel was selling the trail bike she has used every day to get all around San Carlos, and I snapped it up for $40, hoping any bike that could give that kind of service would work for me. And yes, I already have a couple of bikes but one's a racer with skinny wheels, not good for cobblestone streets, and the other is a bit tinny for my taste.

And the Capt. found a headsail for the Green Flash. Created by a sailmaker for his own boat and beautifully constructed with no stinting in materials or labor. It'll need a little tailoring to fit the Flash, and certainly it seems insane to buy a sail for a boat that won't be in the water for at least another year or two, but the Capt says such a sail (worth $5,200US new) is hard to come by.

At the swap meet was a beautiful Goldendoodle (one of the new designer breeds mixing poodle with other well-loved breeds, such as the Labradoodle and the Aussiedoodle, known collectively as "doods"). Not for sale.

*Gringos are not supposed to exchange money for goods in Mexico. Since this is an impossible restriction, we refer to any currency used in such an exchange as "coconuts."

CHEVY PIE IN THE SKY?

The Chevy Volt, a dream car that may or not be for real

An ad for the Chevy Volt caught my eye today; can't resist anything having to do with alternative fuels. But the website doesn't make it clear whether this vehicle, which "can be configured to run on electricity, gasoline, E85 or biodiesel" is anything more than a figment of some engineering team's imagination.

At the bottom of the site, in small type: "Information subject to change without notice. Vehicle shown is a Chevrolet Concept vehicle. Not available for sale." Sigh...

Maybe I could buy one with all the money I'm going to get from Nigeria!

"GRACIOUS RETIREMENT LIVING"

Most people at my age with living parents at some point need to consider alternative living situations for the parents. My sister and I came to this point last year, and since she lives in the same town as my mother (who'll be 89 in a few weeks), she took on the responsiblity of selecting assisted living facilities.

Our criteria: as much personal freedom as possible, a place where Mother could keep her two cats, clean and attractive surroundings, good meals and friendly people. We hope to have found these in Tallgrass, an apartment complex that offers "gracious retirement living" for seniors. Tallgrass is part of the Holiday corporation which has facilities all over the US.

After helping Mother settle into her second-story apartment, I shot these photos for anyone wondering what assisted living at Tallgrass looks like. She has three meals a day, linens and towels laundered and twice-a-week cleaning, outings, parties and exercise training and pays $1750 a month for a one-bedroom unit. There are studios and two-bedroom apartments available, too, plus a library, exercise room, lounge with giant screen TV, billiard parlor, restaurant-style dining room... all very stylish and elegant in an Oklahoma sort of way. She can live there as long as she's ambulatory and doesn't require a lot of nursing. For an extra $6 a day, a caregiver visits her three times daily to make sure she's taking her meds and doing OK.

CONFESSIONS OF A DOWN'N'OUT WRITER

Over the years I've collected a fair-size library of writers' books. While snapping this shot I started thinking about reorganizing them, by size, topic, thickness, weight, color, alphabetically...Aha! That old inner procrastinator was at it again!

My horoscope for today:

Make sure that you're not living in the past -- you've got the future to think about as well. In fact, make sure that concerns about the short- and long-term influence your decision-making process today.

So what? Am I so full of myself I'm going to start posting my horoscope every day? Well, no, but today's is sort of significant because I'm going to undertake something new. Three years ago I was moving right along producing a novel, but I fell flat on my face at some point and never got up. I stopped going to my local writing class with the excuse I was "into other things" and began evading my former classmates, not because they thought I was a lousy writer but because they all told me I had so much potential. Some years ago, I signed up with a novelists' online support group which I'll tell more about in a minute, but never accomplished anything and felt so ashamed I thought they wouldn't let me sign up again! And many years ago, I signed up with a writers' correspondence school, paid the big bucks and didn't even get started. They wanted a sample of my writing before they started sending assignments, and since all I'd done until then was journalism, I sent some clips. No, no, they said, you want to write fiction, send us some fiction samples. You can guess what happened then. Nada. As a writer, I considered myself down and out.

So, living in the past, I wrote off (pun intended) any future ambitions that might involve writing. I have an entire shelf of writing books--Julia Cameron, Stephen King, Natalie Goldberg, Anne LaMott, Eric Maisel and Dorothea Brande among them. At least six times a year I tell myself I should run an ad on eBay..."Writer's Library, 43 volumes to help kick-start your project, make offer." When we left for Mexico I almost donated them to the local library but the Capt talked me out of it. "Who knows, maybe someday I'll use them," he said.

My concern about the short term have to do with the fact that I don't have an antique guide to publish for eight months, and I have never had such a long stretch of free time before in my life. Am I going to use it or lose it?

Regarding the long term, there's some question whether I HAVE a long term. I've been given a diagnosis that means I've got a time limit. But can anybody say they have forever, for sure? If I have even another month, another year, another five years, ten, left, I want to take one more shot at the goal. Anyway, like most journalists I've always worked better with a.. um... deadline.

And that's where NaNoWriMo comes in. Briefly, it's the aforementioned writers' online support group that challenges all of us with books in our heads, during National Novel Writing Month, to knock out a 50,000 word or 175 page rough draft, (blithely ignoring that vicious inner editor) and produce what Anne Lamott calls a "sh..ty first draft." The challenge officially started yesterday, Nov. 1, so I'm already a day late (and 2,000 words short).

Last year over 79,000 writers joined the challenge and 13,000 wrote 50K words. I guess I shouldn't feel such a failure for my previous attempt.

One of the suggestions WriMo offers is to tell everybody what I'm attempting, so possibly a sense of shame will help keep up the momentum. Thus today's blog. Believe me, if it were up to me, I'd say nothing and have only myself to answer to. But then, that's what it boils down to anyway, write?


(A NOTE OF CAUTION: If you get the bug and decide to join in, be patient with the NaNoWriMo website. It's being deluged with applicants right now. You might go ahead and turn out a couple thousand words while you're waiting, and in a few days people will start dropping out, freeing their servers to take care of the rest of us.)

RELEASING OUR INNER PIRATE

Piske's Potluck Pirate Party did turn out to be much more delightful than the Halloween barhopping fiasco: better company, better food, no cigarette smoke and tolerable noise level. Rosemary and William of "Piske" have a wonderful sprawling house, with a patio that spans the entire bottom floor, and a hot tub. We were bidding au revoir to Isabel, who's flying to Europe to join a crew in Portugal, and sail back across the Atlantic.

There'd been no mention of a costume contest, but the Capt won hands down in the men's division, and in the women's I was tied with Carol from "Windwalker 2." So Carol and I solved the conflict the only way self-respecting wenches could: with a sword fight. Me with my trusty plastic cutlass from Tianguis against her puny bean pod saber. Much more exciting than the men's competition. I let her win only because the Capt and I decided one haul of booty in the family was enough. The booty was a cake of Mexican soap. Second prize would have been TWO cakes of Mexican soap.

Ain't we got fun!