So, I cried in the hot sauce aisle.
We’d been wandering around Chedraui (the big grocery store here), jaws slack with wonder as we re-encountered everything we loved about Pacific Mexico… produce other than potatoes and onions? Cheap wonderful produce? Key limes? Tortillas? Salsa? Beans? Sketchy-meat that suddenly looks so much less sketchy than all the other meat we’ve been eating lately??
And then we came to the hot sauce aisle — you know the one, row upon row of those beautiful jars of hot sauce just calling your name — and it hit me. I’ve missed Mexico. I love Mexico. I’m not sure why we ever left Mexico??
*sigh* You just don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone, do ya?? 🙂
Anyways, we’ve been busily making up for lost time (I’m happy to report that Caribbean Mexico is just as wonderful as Pacific Mexico, with the extra added bonus of super clear water & CALM ANCHORAGES), eating tacos, buying trinkets, stock-piling salsa and hot sauce and tequila and limes… and getting ready to leave.
The holding tank is complete (Jon gets some serious points here — this was a giant fibreglassing project that’s been spread over 3 countries and always less-than-perfect conditions… let’s just say that cutting fibreglass in the cockpit is a messy/challenging endeavour!!) and has been tested, the sail has been repaired (did I mention we ripped open a seam in the Genoa on the way here? Just a little split that started as 2″ and had spread to 6″ by the time we were in… but thankfully never went rrrrrrrrrrip to 6 feet!!), the battery monitor works again, the tanks are full, the groceries are bought, the weather window is here… it’s time to go.
Since pictures of holding tanks fall in the ‘maybe not suitable for the internet’ category, I’ll give you this shot instead:
If you’ll allow me to blow my own horn for a minute, this was my solution to a challenging situation: how to repair the genoa while in an anchorage that always has a 10-15 knot breeze blowing?
You might think 10 knots isn’t much, but just pull out the genoa and let it flap it’s giant scary flappers at you for a while and you’ll know what I’m talking about 🙂 So instead we unfurled 2′ (the rip was really close to the edge luckily) (<– and if I was a good sailor I’d remember what that edge is called… clew?? foot?? I give up), Jon hoisted me up, and I sewed from aloft. It got a little interesting when the tour boats went ripping by, rolling Brio and tossing me around, but I did get a few curious smiles and waves from the tourists as they zipped past 😉
And so now we’re ready to leave. Well, I’m not ready to leave — I think I could happily spend another 3 months here — but hurricane season and greencard requirements and all-those-miles-still-to-go-to-Maine are a-beckoning, so go we must.
And as sad as I am to leave Mexico, I know we’ll be back. Plus when we land in Key West we’ll hoist our last courtesy flag for a long time… and we’ll be able to go to the store and BUY PEANUT BUTTER without mortgaging the boat.
Peanut Butter vs Tacos is a close call, but I think PB might just win 🙂