Life After Irma

Life goes on. This is the most comforting, and yet hardest aspect to grasp post Irma. I walked through Target the other day, meandering the aisles and taking stock of the obscene amount of stuff filling every shelf (some of which I admittedly put in my cart). I could not stop thinking of my friends  and fellow islanders on St. Maarten, BVI, USVI, Domenica and Puerto Rico who wait for hours and hours to get basic staples, who walk for miles to charge their devices and attempt to connect with loved ones...who's lives have taken on a completely different purpose and weight, and for whom basic survival is a daily game. What would they think of this Target trip, I wondered? These are people for whom a roof, a shower and a flushing toilet are luxuries. Target? What a joke. But life goes on...

There are two camps of people who have emerged from this storm; those who lived through the horror of it (and by almost all accounts, it was absolutely terrifying) and those of us who are residents and watched from afar as the horror unfolded. The experiences for each - both pre and post storm - are different, but the end result is the same: Every single one of our lives have been changed forever. Many of us lost our homes and most all of our worldly belongings. Many of us lost jobs and businesses. Not a single one of us came out unscathed. An entire geographic area's inhabitants (not to mention our islands) are permanently scarred from #irmaria and while each of our scars are unique, they are there. The side-effects of the trauma of an entire life completely turned upside down are vast. And we will all feel the after-shocks of Hurricane Irma for a very, very long time.

As most of you know, we are in the Chicagoland area where we plan to stay for the time being. And - despite the unfortunate circumstances - it's wonderful here. We are surrounded by amazing family (Mom, you are the best! Thank you for everything!) and have many friends - new and old - nearby. Isla is enrolled in kindergarten and I walk her to school hand in hand every day as leaves crunch under our feet while we chit-chat. She has fit in seamlessly and absolutely loves it and all her new friends, who come running up to her to envelop her in hugs as we arrive at the school doors. Haven and Mira attend a little pre-school two mornings a week where they play and paint and they too love it. Not a single morning has been met with tears or protests of not going. They are adaptable and social children and we are very proud and grateful for that. They are all in dance class twice a week and swim class on Mondays...and, honestly, are as happy as ever. They miss our boat, they ask after their island friends daily and are excited to go back and rebuild ("We are gonna bring food and water to Nanny Cay momma!" they say. The lack of food and water immediately after the storm is something they really clung to). As much as we want to go back and try to rebuild our life and business on Tortola, the time is not now. We need to assure it's safe and that schools are running, and we need to prepare our girls for what will be a very different - albeit interesting - life when we return (we are up for the adventure and challenge). In the meantime, life needs to continue while we make a plan moving forward. To anyone that sees us out and about on the streets here, we are just another suburban family living our life. But there is so much more below the surface. It's strange to think about and I am now hyper aware that everyone has a story. How many people do I mindlessly walk past in the grocery store are deep in pain; maybe they are going through a divorce, lost a loved one, suffer depression, or battle addiction...we just never know. This experience has really driven this fact home for me: that life goes on as normal for the people around us even though our lives will never be the same.

As someone who studied theater most of her life and leans toward positive-thinking I can very easily put on a happy face out and about, but the pain of uncertainty, the sting of losing our beloved home and the general feeling of being untethered is always there. I have strange dreams every night. One in which our boat was lifted from the depths of the harbor, in perfect condition and ready to sail again. Another I was making my way across post-apocolyptic Tortola on foot trying desperately to get back to Nanny Cay. The storm and it's effects on us are etched deep within our psyches, obviously. Keeping busy helps, and the kids are great at keeping us busy. Helping where we can is also a boon to the pain. Our fundraising efforts have blown us away and we have all of you to thank for that. At the time of this post we have raised over $160K for relief and rebuilding efforts in the British Virgin Islands. To think that our first "goal" was $10K might illustrate our shock at this large number. Our friends, family and online community is huge and generous and we thank every single one of you. We have spent about $80K so far on tarps, generators and chainsaws and are going to be working closely with other organizations who are on the ground in the BVI to make sure our money goes where it's most needed. This is easier said than done (File this under: lessons learned in disaster relief), which is why it is taking some time, but every penny will get into hands of people and organizations on the ground working to rebuild our beautiful island. If you have not donated and feel the urge to do so, you can here: >>>BVI IMMEDIATE RELIEF FUND<<<.

IN OTHER NEWS: we have been invited to the Annapolis Boat Show next weekend by a couple of very generous souls (Thank you SO MUCH Jeff and Cam Bach!) We are SO excited about this and while it didn't seem like we could make it at first, I felt this deep "need" - almost a calling of sorts - to go, and my gut was telling me it was important... So we have made it happen. We will be joining many blog and vlog friends there; some of whom we already know and love, some of whom we have never yet met in person. I might be speaking on a Cruising World Panel about ways sailors can help and what to expect sailing south. Check in with our Facebook Page for updates on where we will be and when. It will be a very busy weekend for sure but we'd love to meet as many of you as we can... Scott and I, along with others, will be at the BVI Tourism booth selling our #BVISTRONG shirts and all proceeds will be going to the >>>VISAR BVI RELIEF FUND<<<. If you won't be at the show and want to sport some #BVISTRONG gear yourself, you can get tee shirts (men, women, toddler and kids styles available), baby onesies, hoodies and trucker hats >>>HERE<<<. Huge shout out to the awesome folks behind >>> Tight Little Tribe<<< and >>>Remember the Adventure<<< for working with me on this and making it happen so fast. We have raised thousands for VISAR with this initiative while also sporting our pride! Please give them some love. I also want to give a strong shout out to the group >>>Sailors Helping<<<. Aside from housing their newly appointed executive director (and PR evacuee turned pseudo family member and friend) Diana Margarita, we are ambassadors for their great effort as well and if you are a sailor who wants to help - please check them out. This is also great place to donate to if you have no specific affiliation with a particular island and just want to help. They have big plans for long term efforts, and we are excited to be working with them.

I cannot say it enough: the community and solidarity that has emerged from these storms is AMAZING. The other day I wrote that "as my heart breaks, it fills" because the kindness of both strangers and friends and the many people who are stepping up to the plate are astounding. The coming together of people from all different walks of life is humbling and shows me that there is hope in this crazy world. We are shining with silver linings these days, and seeing the positive that has come out of this disaster is a lesson in humanity that I am honored to experience. We cannot thank you all enough...Those of you who have reached out to us - your kindness will not be forgotten.

So life is going on. We are grateful, we are lucky and we are okay. The challenge of moving forward from this storm is a big one, but we are up for it. We are not waving the white flag and - while there are definitely days we feel very defeated and completely lost, and there are moments when I completely break down - we have every intention to emerge from this stronger than before.

"And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, 

how you managed to survive. 

You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. 

But one thing is certain. 

When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. 

That's what this storm's all about."

-Haruki Murakami

And now some pics of us back on the water this weekend with our dear friends from >>>Monday Never<<<...our growing friendship with them is one of the many silver linings of #irmaria (they will also be at the boat show with us!) Getting out on the water with them was cathartic.

Island Life: The Good, Bad, and Quirky

The "idea" of living on an island evokes a bit of envy and turquoise tinted mental pictures for a lot of people. But just like most things, the 'idea' of something and the 'reality' of it can be very, very different. While I will be the first to tell you that I absolutely love my island home and island life in general, there's a lot more to it than beautiful beaches, tropical slushy rum drinks and cotton-candy colored sunsets (though we do have those things in spades!)...I've written before about >>> how to determine whether or not island life might be for you <<< , but just for fun, here' are some ways that island life on my rock is very different from life back stateside...


1) Lack of abundance: There are no malls, no big box stores, and our grocery stores pale in comparison to those back home. Finding affordable quinoa or natural peanut butter is very difficult and there is less of just about everything on a small island. We island mom's talk excitedly in dreamy, coveting tones about Whole Foods or Trader Joes the way other mom's might gush over that 50 Shades trilogy (...that I have not read). The prospect of shelves upon shelves of organic, wholesome goodness is that exciting for us. Clothes? Again, limited choices unless you dress like a 26 year old from San Diego (which I do). Household goods? Not many options for good, quality stuff but lots of plastic crap from China marked to about triple what it should cost. Life on our rock is expensive because of this but it's the price we pay because what we do we have an abundance of? Beaches, boats and bars. Not a bad trade.

2) Kids wear school uniforms: Here, every single school child wears a uniform. Period. IT. IS. AWESOME. Can someone please explain to me why the United States has not adopted this practice?!?! Dear GOD! Getting my kids dressed in decent, practical clothing is easily one of the most unpleasant parts of my day (they either want to wear completely ridiculous things like socks and leggings to the beach or underware on their head with a princess dress to dinner - which I let them most of the time - or they (Mira) want to wear the same exact ratty, dirty, threadbare thing every. single. day). I can only imagine that this fortitude and pension for 'style' gets more awful determined as we near the teen years (face palm) but, honestly, my uber independent daughters dress themselves and it drives me nuts. School uniforms save me just a little bit of headache and a hell of a lot more time on school days. Plus, they look pretty adorable. AMEN for school uniforms. I dread ever living somewhere without them.

3) Rules are more lax: I have seen numerous signs around Tortola that say you are not allowed to smoke in public places. I have also seen more smokers on this island than I have seen since my pre-smoking ban bar days in Chicago. There is a "strict" helmet law, yet only one out of every four motor scooter drivers is wearing a helmet. And good LORD do not start me on parking. A parking lot here looks like a mini glimpse into the collapse of society. Full-blown anarchy. Every man for himself. When it says "no parking", people will freely park. Even better, if you are parked in a perfectly legal spot, it is not unusual for someone to park right in front of you, blocking you in completely for anywhere from ten minutes to over an hour. This incredibly selfish practice is not only commonplace, but pretty infuriating to all residents, and yet nothing is ever done about it. Why? I have yet to see a tow truck or a car ticketed for this. No consequences? Behavior remains the same. Sigh.

4) Livestock roams free: You will not see one single squirrel here on Tortola, but a drive to town or up on the ridge road will present you with a whole host of farm animals. Chickens run free all over the place, goats regularly hold up traffic, and driving by a cow lounging on the side of the road with her calf is no big deal. Donkeys and horses used to be the main mode of transport around here until fairly recent history so you will see plenty of those as well, though their physical states might make you shudder...which brings me to my next point...

5) Animal cruelty and brutality is everywhere: Treatment of animals here is atrocious. Period. I'm not one to hate on my rock, because I love it here so very much, but animal cruelty and abuse is rampant and if you are a true-blue animal lover, you will probably have your heart broken daily here. I don't even want to tell some of the stories I have heard but suffice it to say: it's really bad.

6) You can drink while driving: Yes, you read that correctly. While you technically cannot drive 'drunk' (see #3), driving with an open alcoholic bev in the car is totally acceptable. Do not talk on the phone or skimp on clicking your seat belt, but go ahead and fix yourself that rum and coke before you hit the road. Welcome to the land of the roadie my friends, it's a nice place to be.

7) Drivers and Roads are Insane: Let me preface this by saying that I have been pulled over for "driving with intent to kill" (no, I was not, it's actually a classification after going over the speed limit a certain amount), ticketed for "reckless driving" and I had my license suspended for a year. I spent many years weaving in and out of traffic in the city of Chicago where I gained some legit "aggressive driving" chops. My point in telling you all this? I AM NO GRANDMA BEHIND THE WHEEL. But here? I literally get road rage several times a day because the drivers here are the very worst I've ever experienced in all the world (and I've driven in Rome, Bangkok and East Africa, to name a few). They are careless and downright terrifying. They fly around blind corners at mock speeds, pass on narrow roads, and play chicken daily. I cannot tell you how many times I have had to avoid what would have been terrible accidents had it not been for me swerving out of the way or breaking suddenly. The roads are just as bad: barely wide enough for two cars to safely pass, featuring hair-pin turns that make your hair curl and hills that are so steep they make your feet and palms sweat. Island driving is not for the faint of heart.

8) Hitch Hiking is normal: Hitch hiking is not only normal, but the way many islanders rely on getting from point A to point B. For one, there is no public transportation here (gripe alert!), which is a real bummer. And secondly, cars are not affordable to everyone and many people don't know how to drive, so every drive on our rock will having you passing hitchhikers standing on the side of the road, casually pointing a finger in the direction they want to go. I have picked up children on their way to school, women on their way home from work, and men headed to their jobs. It's a fun way to get to know people and I've heard some incredible stories from hitchhikers. I also think it's showing my girls an important lesson in kindness, as more often than not they are in the car with me when I pick up people.

9) Village Mentality of Islanders: Living on our particular island is not unlike living in a small town. Most everyone knows one another in some, way, shape, or form and a trip to just about anywhere will have you running into someone you know. Being anonymous here is not really an option. Because of this, there is very much a "village" mentality when you live on a small island, we tend to stick together to help one another out. We are all in a similar boat (no pun intended) and whether it be mom's helping out other mom's or simply picking up a hitchhiker as described in #8, we are all part of this community and we all want to see it be the best it can be.

10) Kids are more free-range: I've talked about how I tend to >>> lean more in the direction of "free-range"<<<  as opposed to helicopter parent and I realize this is largely due to the fact that we live in a very safe community where this is easily done. Kids hitchhike to school, it's not unusual to see an older sibling caring for his or her baby sibling, and young kids running free on the beach with their parent keeping a safe distance is very, very normal. Our girls skinny dip regularly, kick off their shoes at every chance they get, and are full of bumps, scrapes and bruises from being outside every day. Our community is relatively small and we all know one another so there are many sets of eyes on our children. I feel really lucky to be able to give our kids the freedom they want and need and the ability to do this is a large reason we chose to live where we do. I've had a lot of conversations with other parents who child-rear in a similar way and agree that we live in a very special place where times are simpler, where kids can be kids, and where there is no need >>> or social pressure <<< to helicopter.

11) Very little to do outside of beaches, boats, and bars: A certain type of person might find themselves very bored living here full time (pretty much everyone >>> loves to vacation here <<<). There are not many restaurants, no winery tours, no theater district, no dance clubs, few coffee shops, no indoor play lands, no malls, no theme parks, no museums and - in general - outside of nature and outdoorsy stuff related to all things water, there's really not much to do here. Taking a stroll 'downtown' is not something that yields much of anything and if you don't enjoy beaches, boats, bars and water sports you might find this place a bit of a yawnfest. Many of us, however, chose to live here in spite of this and actually enjoy the sleepiness of our rock: there's less distraction and fewer things pulling us every which way. You can relax and unplug here. The focus is more on making simple fun with your community; picnics on the beach with friends, dinners at people's homes, and DIY parties...Though, not going to lie, I'd really love there to be a dance club here where I could go with my girlfriends!

Those are just a few of the ways living on my rock differs from living back on the mainland. Some are weird and funny, some are frustrating and sad, but it's all part of the reality of #islandlife.

If you'd like to see pretty pictures of life on our rock, feel free to follow us on:

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Beach, Please: On Playing Goldilocks, Island Style

It never ceases to amaze me how far away we can feel from it all on this island. Despite being a pretty primo travel destination with hundreds of thousands of people flocking here every year, the island remains deceivingly underdeveloped. We are big enough to get a decent haircut or a meal, but not too big that our streets are lined with big box stores or restaurant chains. This delicate balance of maintaining island "authenticity" and halting over-development is something that is pretty unique to the British Virgin Islands and is largely >>> why we chose this island <<< to settle on. Case in point: we can venture to to any number of absolutely pristine beaches - I'm talking jaw-droppingly beautiful shorelines that are the stuff magazine ads are made of - and more often than not we will find ourselves alone or with no more than a few others on a massive stretch of sand. No need to stake out a spot, pay for an umbrella and put down your blanket. The threat of anyone stealing your valuables while you swim is slim to none. And, no, you will not hear the Macarena blasting over a large speaker here... It's just you, me, and the sea, baby...

Mobile Home For the Win: Life on a Boat

When you have young kids in tow, travel can be tricky. Throw in a set of three year old twins who have no shortage of "spunk" and are a healthy dose of "feral", and it gets even tricker. Simply >>>flying back to my mom's<<< stateside with my three creates an angst in me of epic proportions, and despite living a slightly more "simplified" life than most landlubbers, we still end up with heap tons of crap. And this here is probably the number one reason I love living on a boat: We can travel in our home. All that crap comes with us.

Granted, it still can be challenging to travel with tots on a boat (I mean, it's a boat), but it's still our home and, well, it certainly doesn't get much easier than that as far as travel prep goes. No packing lists necessary. No worrying about forgetting lovies, sound machines or the special "baby socks" that for some unknown reason must be worn every. single. day. No need to try and pare down the absolute essentials of our lives in duffle bags and backpacks, or pack the perfect spectrum of snacks that can be both nourishing and still used as effective bribing tools. We just untie the lines and go. Everything we could ever want or need is right here in our very own floating home. #mobilehomeFTW

There are negatives, of course. Boats are kind of bitchy at times. They are money pits. They can be confining and cluttered. They break a lot, yadda yadda yadda... Then there are the personal constraints: we are not able to travel very far at the moment, nor do we travel very fast, or very much for that matter...this is dictated by choice, of course...our current situation as >>>business owners<<< and parents of three small children keeps us tethered close but no matter what, the potential is there and that alone provides a wellspring for possibility. So while the trips to Europe, Africa and South East Asia that I am scheming in my head will have to wait, it's perfectly okay because we don't need to go very far from our slip to feel worlds away. Being situated here in the >>>British Virgin Islands<<< means we are literally surrounded by amazing places to explore in every single direction. Some are a day or two away, some no more than an hour. 

This past weekend our neighbors (fellow live-aboards) asked if we wanted to sail over to Peter Island with them. My plan for the afternoon had been to do a massive purge of kids' clothes and toys (I am forever tweaking, minimizing, and organizing over here)...so when Scott broached the subject of a daysail with me; a night at anchor sounded much, much better. Within a few moments we were off the dock and underway. Yep, it was that quick and simple. Just untie the lines, raise the sails, and set our home free.

A Special Day in Trellis Bay: An Artist Community and A Magic Morning

We don't get to East End, home of the eccentric and eclectic Trellis Bay, often. For one thing, it's quite a drive - which I realize is laughable on an island that measures twelve miles by three - but as the car drives, it's a solid 30-40 minutes one way. With three little kids, and a mid-day nap that I will only forego for extremely special occasions - it's hard to justify an hour or more commute for an hour or two of fun. But when our friend, Cem (pronounced "Jem", like the jewel) invited us to see a special artist friend of his, I thought, "Why not!"

We Bought a New Boat: But Why? The Method Behind our Madness (and a photo tour!)

"This boat is going to change our lives!" I exclaimed as we stepped on board the Tayana 48 that we would put an offer on less than 12 hours later.  Scott looked at me with wide eyes, "Um, I think you're putting a lot of pressure on this boat..." he started tentatively. While, yes, I probably was putting an undue amount of weight on the effect of a boat on our life, but I truly stood by what I said and I repeated myself: "Scott, this boat is literally going to change. our. life." He shrugged and shook his head as we continued lifting up floorboards and digging through cupboards.

But I knew it: this was the one.

I'd been eyeing her on Yachtworld for about five months and looked at the listing no fewer than 200 times, memorizing the specs and committing to memory every square inch of her.

She was absolutely beautiful, checked off just about every item on our "wish list" (more on this later) and, gosh darn it, she was going to change life as we knew it. I could feel it.

***

The bottom line is this: while Asante was working for us, she wasn't really working for us. Because of our two cabin configuration, and the fact that Isla slept more or less in the main cabin (on a make shift bunk that is smaller than a toddler bed) meant that once bedtime hit at 7:30pm, our boat was in shut-down mode. At anchor this arrangement was better - as our cockpit became a veritable outdoor living room and extension of our home. However, at the dock the cockpit simply does not get utilized as much due to the fact that a) there is a remarkable lack of breeze at our marina and b) being so close to your neighbor doesn't have quite the same appeal as sitting on deck being surrounded by open water. "Something about being in a marina makes a boat feel smaller" my friend Carly wrote as we chatted about it. And I 100% agreed. It most certainly does make a boat feel smaller....And since we will be living aboard at a marina for the foreseeable future, something needed to change. Not being able to cook, converse or do pretty much anything other than whisper and go our separate ways was taking its toll on our life in more ways than one.

Scott and I are what I like to call a "perfectly imperfect" pair. Okay, fine, we're downright volatile at times (I mentioned how I'd be honesty bombing you, right?) Don't get me wrong, we are an amazing team in both boating and parenting and we can accomplish a lot more together than alone, but our union is far from perfect which may or may not surprise you. Part of this is due to conflicting personalities and stubborn natures, part of it is simply this "season of life"...The last two years have found us drifting farther and farther apart. With three kids, two of them being twins, and the purchase of a new business, we have both been up to our eyeballs in everything but each other. I tend to the kids and housework, Scott runs our business. For the most part, we pass like ships in the night and can go days without really speaking about anything other than work or kids. We have not had a "date night" in years.

What is the point of me telling you all this? Well, we needed a change and we figured, why not buy another boat to fix our problems? Ha! Just kidding, that was not our thought process at all. BUT...we did have some serious discussions about our future, we both made a commitment to work on our marriage by carving out some together time and we both decided that, yes, a bigger boat *might just* give us the space to be a little more comfortable, provide the means for a little more quality time, and allow us more privacy together. Running a business and raising three very boisterous young daughters in a two-bedroom boat was getting tight at best, stressful at worst - and more breathing room was in order.

***

"What do you think about flying to the east coast for a day to look at that boat I sent to you earlier?" I asked Scott over Whatsapp one day this summer while we were home at my mom's house. To my great surprise, he replied "Sure" (Scott is for sure the more pragmatic of our duo). And so it was; we had a 48 hour window between us coming home from Michigan and Scott heading back to Tortola to make it happen. It was rushed, it was nuts, but we did it and with Isla in tow (you have never seen a little kid more excited about getting her own "big girl room"!). We covered three states and saw four boats in less than 24 hours. The Tayana 48 - the one that I knew was 'it' and the one I was certain would shine above the others - was last to be seen.

When stepped aboard s/v Legato on that gray, overcast day in Connecticut it just felt right. Excitement swelled up in my belly and I took a quick deep breath to keep it at bay. "Don't fall in love, don't fall in love, don't fall in love" I kept telling myself, "Asante could definitely work for one more season if this isn't the one...Do. Not. Fall. In.  Love. With. This. Boat." But, as we all know, matters of the heart are simply not controlled with the head (oh, if only it were that easy!) We both knew it, though. I don't dare say she was "perfect" but she was pretty dang close. She felt instantly like 'home'. I found it no coincidence that a copy of one of my all-time favorite books, "Don't Stop the Carnival", happened to be laying on what would soon become my side of the bed.

***

The next morning as we were rushing out of our hotel to catch our flight home, I got a call from our broker (and longtime friend), Allen Schiller (best. broker. ever), letting us know that if we wanted the boat, we needed to move fast. One offer had come in and been denied earlier in the week, and another couple had a second viewing right after we did and were most likely putting together an offer as well. My gut told me she was going to go, and she was going to go quickly.  I wanted it to be us. After a quick talk with Scott and Isla at our sleepy terminal in Hartford, Connecticut, we agreed to go for it. "Let's do it," I texted Allen, "Let's put in an offer". By the time we landed in Chicago, we were under contract.

And thank god for it! Mere hours after we had a deal, another offer came in for 5K more than ours. Hours later! Talk about lucky. Timing truly is everything. Thankfully the owner was a man of good character and continued to honor our deal, but it was pretty incredible to think we were so close to losing this boat that is now our beloved 'home sweet home'. Sometimes, you need to move fast.

***

She arrived a week before Christmas (Plug for fantastic human: if you need a delivery captain, look no further than the incredible Andrew Burton! He is not only professional and accomplished, but an awesome person to boot. As if that's not enough, the boat was impeccable when we took her over, he and his crew deep-cleaned her head to toe!) and we began the crazy process of moving from one boat to another. It was... nuts. There's really no other way to describe it. Moving house (or boat, rather) while simultaneously trying to make Christmas "magical" for our three kids was exhausting and stressful. Scott was working all hours trying to finalize the new online booking system for our business (much easier said than done!) and I was doing Christmas crafts, buying presents, and doing all the other stuff necessary to keep our home(s) in order. We pushed on and persisted, and in the end felt very lucky that our situation was about as ideal as could be: our new boat was docked next to Asante, we had plenty of time to move our personal effects from A to B, we purged a LOT of accumulated junk, and so many friends and family came to our aid to help us with the move and with the girls. All in all, we had it pretty awesome. Despite these perks, moving is no fun. Moving with three little kids nipping at your heels? 9th circle of Hell. PERIOD.

I digress...

So how are we doing in our new boat?

In a word: Amazing.

We love her. I think I say how much I love her to Scott every single day. She has, indeed, been life-changing, just as I imagined her to be.

Her name has a musical connotation and means "in a smooth flowing manner, without breaks between notes." In Italian, Legato means: tied together. I think it's a pretty nice name for a family boat, and we have no plans to change it. Partly because the name is not terrible, mostly because we're lazy. Her perks are great: she is much more roomy than our last boat and the addition of the third cabin has been everything we imagined it would be. WE HAVE THREE BEDROOMS!!! Isla has her own room now and she is positively ecstatic about it. The twins share the bunk room (although, despite having two beds they opt to both sleep together on the top bunk - how adorable is that?) and everyone has their own little space now. The addition of not only one, but TWO stand-up separate showers has also been life-changing; prior to this boat the girls and I would shower off the back deck with a cold water hose, and Scott would have to walk to the marina showers (no where near as often as necessary, mind you!) Not that big of an issue, and at the time it certainly didn't seem like a deal breaker - but being able to take warm showers on our boat and not on-deck has been truly AMAZING. The list of features that we love (centerline queen aft berth, an aft cabin that is large and spacious, a nav station that doubles as a desk...etc.) goes on and on...we love this boat. Love her.

***

So what were our other desires when boat shopping this time around? We wanted a monohull under 50 feet, largely for cost reasons but also because if we wanted a ton of space we'd get a condo. We like living "cozy" and we wanted to get the smallest boat that would give our family the space it needed to be comfortable. 48 feet worked out to be just right for us. Small enough to go anywhere and still be manageable, but big enough to give our growing family of five some individual space. We wanted three cabins, an in-boom roller furling main, great sailing performance (she is a dream to sail!) at least one separate stand up shower stall, two heads, an ample aft deck swim step, center cockpit configuration, cutter rig, and not a 'fixer upper'. While this boat has done the Caribbean 1500 a few times, it's not at all set up for long-term live-aboard cruising which actually suited us fine. We are staying local for the next few years and while we eventually plan to cast off again, that's a ways away for us. By the time we get ready to shove off, there will be gear that is even better suited for long-term cruising than there is today. Off-grid systems and electronics get better and more efficient every year, so when our time to go approaches - we'll start adding things like solar power, water maker, davits and whatever else we think we need. For now, we're perfectly set up to be weekend warriors here in the beautiful Virgin Islands.

And now, for the picture tour. We will start aft and then work our way up!

This is our aft cabin. It is a dream. We love the headroom, the extra storage, and the centerline queen bed.

Quite possibly the biggest upgrade of all, the aft head with a separate stand up shower. It is heaven!

Looking forward from our bedroom door (we have a door now!)

Our saloon. We still need to add some personal touches like family photos and such, but it feels very comfortable and homey.

One thing I LOVE about this boat? It's so bright! Natural light is a must for me in a home of any sort, and we love that we get lots of it here.

Another big upgrade! A desk! I write here, Scott works here and the chair is extra space for a friend to sit when people come over.

Looking aft to our bedroom from the saloon. Our walk-thru galley is a dream.

The twins bunk room. Two beds and plenty of space to store their goodies, especially since they both sleep up top together. Scott and I designed the bedrail using L-brackets and starboard. Works like a charm!

This is where the twins sleep, together. They sometimes sleep on opposite ends, sometimes snuggled up, but always together up here. Their choice!

This is the forward head directly across from the twins' room. Also has a stand up shower. Love!!!

Isla's room. This is her little sanctuary. She truly loves it and all three will play up here together in the morning.  Books, books and more books!

Looking aft from the front end. Our home sweet home!! We love her SO much!

Here's the layout of our boat to help further the visual tour. Hope you enjoyed!

OUR OLD BOAT, S/V ASANTE (BREWER 44) IS NOW FOR SALE. 

EMAIL US IF YOUR ARE INTERESTED WINDTRAVELER09 at GMAIL.COM 

STAY TUNED FOR A FULL LISTING WITH PRICE, PICTURES and SPECS.

Back to the Boat, Back on Island Time: On Adaptation and Change

It never ceases to amaze me just how adaptable children are. After two months back in the US at my mom's house, I was certain we'd have a little "adjustment" period back at the boat. The girls, after all, are getting bigger, older, and can most certainly grasp the difference between a boat and a house, not to mention the concept of personal space. They loved being back at Grandma's. They have friends back there, we fell into a nice little routine, and - most concerning for me - they became pretty accustomed to life in a three bedroom ranch. They played tag every morning, hid under beds and behind drapery...they enjoyed their own rooms and had plenty of drawers each for their clothes (on the boat they have the equivalent of one small drawer each and only the twins have their own dedicated 'room'). They played in the back yard on the tire swing, pushed baby doll strollers down hallways, and rode bikes and trikes a plenty...Bringing them back to the boat meant a lot of this stuff was going to come to an abrupt halt.

So you can imagine my surprise when, after over a week of being back, I have yet to hear of a single complaint about anything we left back home (minus grandma, of course). I haven't heard any lamentations over the lack of a backyard or whining that they miss the library, nor have the girls put in requests for anything that I thought they might miss - from food to toys - from their time up north. They haven't even asked for television (which was something we admittedly watched significantly more of back in the house). I was, at the very least, prepared for a few sleepless nights as they re-acclimated with their old beds, but, no. In fact, they fell back into napping and night sleeping better than they did these last two months on land! I have to say I was shocked. Each time we have a transition like this I brace myself for a fallout, for tantrums and wonky adjustment periods - and yet - they never happen.  It's incredible and once again our girls show me that mama needs to take a chill pill. "I have no idea why this still surprises me" I told my mom on the phone the other day. "They just fall back into step." To which she replied with her motherly wisdom, "Kids are very adaptable."

And they are. And it's pretty amazing.

***

The days leading up to our departure were super busy on both ends; I was busy packing up and prepping for the flights (remember, I prepare for these things like a ninja!), Scott was up to his eyeballs in work while simultaneously launching and readying Asante for our return (she was on the hard the last three months). I'm glossing over a ton of details but suffice it to say we were frenetic on both ends. The girls and I enjoyed an uneventful day of travel and landed on Tortola just as the sun was beginning to set and the tree frogs start singing their nightly tunes. Our favorite taxi driver, Larry, picked us up with a big smile and huge hugs, and soon we were en-route back to the boat.

The girls were *so* excited to be back. The boat was a flurry of energy; snuggles with daddy, finding "new" toys, running amok (as children who have been cooped up in planes for a whole day are wont to do) and preparing dinner. Meanwhile, I unpacked all our bags.

The next morning we went out to breakfast with daddy and - oh my gosh! - the girls were greeted with so many hugs and fist bumps and smiles from every direction. "Who are you people and where were you?" one fellow breakfast patron asked with a laugh, "I've never seen so many people so excited to see four girls!" It gave us the warm fuzzies to know we were missed since, truth be told, sometimes I think the presence of three very active, loud and exuberant toddlers might cramp our marina's style. It's hard to keep a low profile around here with our crew. Not everyone loves little children and I can respect that - but according to the various workers, wait staff and crew members around us who repeatedly told the girls, "Nanny Cay just wasn't the same without you!" we were missed. And I believe wholeheartedly that Nanny Cay wasn't the same, if for no other reason than it was a lot more quiet!

***

Being back has been amazing and totally rejuvenating. And, okay, it's not all been smooth sailing; my car got a flat on the first day I drove it and I also discovered I can no longer get out of the driver's side door without rolling down the window and opening it from the outside (#islandcars). Other than those minor nuisances, life is good. Scott is busier than ever at the moment, we are down pretty much all our captains this month so he is pulling double duty and burning the midnight oil every night to stay on top of everything. I am so incredibly proud of him and how he's managing because it is not easy. Meanwhile, the girls and I have fallen right back into swing. We have our little routine of breakfast on the boat followed by some morning outing/activity/playdate, then lunch and nap time around noon, then our afternoon outing/activity/playdate followed by dinner, bath and bedtime between 7 and 7:30pm. Of course there are variations and special occasions, but that's the gist of it. Lots of fresh air, playtime with other children, and glorious sunshine. The pool and beach are regulars in our days and then there's the beach bar, which in the afternoon is a hub of activity and where I can let the girls run free with their little friends to climb trees, swing from ropes, build with the beach jenga blocks or hold scooter races. It's simple, no fluff, fun. And mommy can have her afternoon spritzer or two (wink).

Speaking of scooters, our Micro Scooters have now become the preferred method of travel for the girls. These days, instead of me pushing a double stroller to and fro most of the time, you will find our little gang ripping around the marina like little skater girls. It's pretty hilarious to watch because they are so small and so fast, that it's rare for anyone who passes not to smile or giggle because they look so damn cute all in a row squealing and laughing. Yet another reminder of how fast time flies and how with every month a new milestone is reached when kids are little. There is no way I would have trusted them to fly around here a few months ago, but now - it's how they roll and they love the independence. Of course they are wearing their life jackets while doing so - they get ahead of me so quickly now and the threat of falling in is more imminent - the life jackets put my mind and heart at ease. "If they fall in, they'll float" I tell onlookers. Bumps, bruises and scrapes don't phase me. In fact I encourage those things with our girls. But water safety is no joke. Even though the girls know our "rules" and have excellent control over their rides, it's better to be safe than sorry. That PSA aside...we love our "scooter boards" (as Mira likes to call them, oh yeah - the twins are full on talking now!) and if you are looking for a great scooter for your child, you seriously need to check Micro Scooters out.

***

So that is where we are at. It's been a pretty great re-entry to boat life and we have been welcomed back to our adopted island with open arms. Life is simple and we are happy. The fact that our girls have made this transition easy makes me very proud of them and I sure hope that this flexibility continues into adulthood for them (it's a trait that doesn't come as naturally to their mother *coughcough*). Change is not always easy and rarely is it effortless, but it is good. And adaptability is what can make it great. Being back on island, back to our floating home? It's exactly what we needed.

Now...how they will handle pre-school three half-days out of the week? That adjustment might prove a little more difficult, for all of us!

Tiny space? No big deal to these kids. In fact, I think they prefer close quarters!

Always a great option for a morning activity

Scooter races are the afternoon activity of choice on many days

This is what I call the "Meyers Mimosa" - soda water and orange juice. 

Swinging from trees is always fun!

We spend a lot of time crafting and coloring as well, but these mess free Water Wow's are my fave!

"How old is that little girl?" is a question I get all the time about our fearless little Haven.

This is our backyard. I mean...what a view to take in every day. I love it.

Back to the baby pool bath on the aft deck - and we've now discovered that Joy dish soap makes the BEST bubbles. Score!

Beaching it in our SwimZip Swimwear SPF rash guards. Love our little beach babies.

Good bye sun, thanks for a great day! So happy to be able to catch the sunset every night again.

So You Want to Live on an Island? Thirteen Things to Consider Before You Move to Paradise

We live in paradise. It's true. This place we call home, the >>>British Virgin Islands<<<, are frequently touted in glossy magazines as a primo world travel destination and regularly featured on "top ten" lists for one or all of the "three B's" (beaches, bars and beauty). Our pictures make you swoon, our tans make you jealous, and the fact that you are shoveling snow while we are lounging poolside kind of makes you want to kill us. Yes, our lives appear pretty idyllic from our >>>Instagram photo feeds<<< ... but are they? Well, yes and no. While island life ab-so-lutely has it's merits (duh!), it is definitely not for everyone. Might living on a rock be for you? Well, after five years of living on and around islands, here are some things I've observed that you might want to consider:

1. Everyone will know your name. If you love small town living, island life might be for you. Everyone knows everyone here, and if you don't know everyone, chances are they've heard about you or you've heard about them before you even met. While this "small town" nature of island life comes with a comforting sense of community and accessibility, it also comes with the not so awesome side effect of gossip. And holy crap, scandal and drama - real or finely tuned through the "coconut telegraph" - is everywhere. 
2. Power and water run out, regularly. Infrastructure is often lacking on islands. We happen to live at a marina with it's own reverse osmosis water system and a hefty back up generator so we are very lucky to not suffer from this common island affliction. But most folks who live here are very regularly lamenting about power outages which seem to happen a lot. And water? You know, the stuff that pours out of your faucets whenever you want it? Yeah, that runs out too. It is not unusual for entire areas of the island to be waterless for several days at a time. I have one friend who's water went dry mid-shower. And don't even get me started on fast internet or conditions of the roads... 
3. It's harder to get stuff. Second hand shopping is common here regardless of social class or wealth.  Our beautiful island lacks big box stores of any kind and while I absolutely love the absence of blatant American consumerism and the eyesore of it all, it also means many of the things we are used to buying back home are not available here or are very expensive. My hunt for three car seats turned up with zilch (literally could. not. find. three carseats to buy on this rock) that I eventually had to suck it up, buy them online, and have them shipped down from the US (making them the most expensive carseats on the island, possibly in the entire Caribbean, maybe in the world...) From furniture to cars, kids toys to water toys, a lot of your stuff will be second hand. Anything that's not might have to be purchased off island and sent down via traveling friend or shipping company. How much you miss the amenities of the mainland will depend on your ability to be patient and/or flexible (or how many off island visitors you get!), but most people will feel some sort of consumer pang quite regularly whether it be because you can't get something or the exorbitant cost of it.

   

   We've been known to ship everything from boat parts to kids' toys down.
4. You will be behind on a lot. When people talk about a movie or show, I often ask if it came out after 2010 when Scott and I left to go cruising, because we have absolutely no clue about anything that came out after that. Game of Thrones? Breaking Bad? OITNB? These mean nothing to me. Then again, this is largely due to the fact that we don't have television and don't have a good/comfortable place to watch our computer after the kids go to bed but still...living on an island usually means you will be a step behind when it comes to trends, news, pop culture, fashion, and giving a crap about any of it. If you *do* care about the latest and greatest in x,y or z, island life might not be for you.
5. Garbage, trash and litter is up close and personal. The pictures we post of our island are often from the best beaches and the best views, but what you do not see are the not so pretty sides of life on a rock. The side that shows you how serious the issue of pollution, particularly in the ocean that surrounds our home, is. Remember that time our family >>>cleaned up the trash at the park in town<<<? We've been to beaches in the windward islands that are covered in plastic, trash and debris. It's sad to imagine that some people have that little respect for the environment but it's something we've seen on just about every island we've visited. Tortola, however, is very clean compared to others and it's one of the many reasons we love it here. Even still, you will see an impressive amount of trash if you get off the beaten path.

   

   A garbage bag full of trash we collected at a park one day.

6. Goodbyes are a regular occurrence. Aside from the fact that most of us are away from our families and have to say "bye" to our visitors, island communities are often very transient. While some people come here and stay forever, most do not. They are here on contract, for a few years, or as part of a temporary adventure. Add in the fact that we are host to vibrant yachting and cruising communities and"...people come and go so quickly!" Maybe for this reason or because of it, it can be hard to find friends and some people can find island life very isolating. If you are single, finding a mate can prove very challenging as well.
7. "Island time"is legit. In the day and age of "instant gratification", this is a tricky one for many to handle. However "island time", while not a scientific measure, is 100% real. Urgency is not a thing here (unless your are on the road where it is very much a "thing".) Life is definitely s-l-o-w-e-r and while that might sound appealing at first, the reality of it is often a shock to the system. Island time varies from task to task, but is - on average -  two to three times longer than you would expect to do/accomplish/finish said task. It can be as simple as a painfully slow clerk at the grocery store who takes no fewer than 10 minutes to scan your not-in-the-system-for-some-reason strawberries or as severe as your husband dropping off a small poster to be framed the week before your birthday, for your birthday (April 27th) and getting said birthday present/poster in the middle of July. Yes, 'island time' is real and if you are a task-master used to fast-paced city life, you will have some serious adjusting to do.
8. Bureaucracy is no joke.  I like to call it bureauCRAZY down here. From immigration to labor to customs, the name of the game is waiting. Waiting in line. Waiting to get a ticket in order to wait in line. Waiting for someone to call your name to tell you to wait some more. Waiting for approval. Waiting for a stamp from another department. Waiting for an official to come back from vacation. So. Much. Waiting. God forbid you try to run a business down here because no matter how many people you hire to get all your legal ducks in a row and no matter how many officials you speak with to clarify things, you will definitely get it wrong. Mark my words. And then you will have to deal with even more bureaucrazy. And then you will have to wait some more. Before you are a legal resident you will have waited no fewer than 262 hours in various departments and will have filled out your body weight in forms. 

   

   Just one of the approximately 1,436 forms I had to read and/or fill out.

9. Weather can be brutal. I will never forget the summer we spent in Grenada while I was pregnant with the twins without air conditioning. It was >>>so. effing. hot<<<. My uncle was just here last month and he walked around with a towel on his person that had one purpose alone: to wipe away/absorb his sweat. It was profuse. I'm pretty sure he lost half his body weight in perspiration and I doubt he will be coming back any time soon. It was very uncomfortable for him. NEWSFLASH: THE HEAT CAN BE AS LIMITING AND OPPRESSIVE AS THE COLD. While our winter's kick your winter's ass in terms of we are drinking rum drinks on the beach while you shovel snow, our summers are brutal and can be ungodly hot. As if the mind-bending heat wasn't enough, we also have the threat of hurricanes five months of the year. This is unnerving and potentially catastrophic, particularly if you live on a boat and own three others as your livelihood (insert emoticon with wide eyes and teeth). 

   

   He showered 3x a day. Still no relief. The heat is for real.

10. You might get bored. I know this sounds insane because when you came here on vacation you filled every day and still didn't see it all, but islands are islands and their very nature means they are limited. There are only so many beaches, bars, and activities to occupy your time. We don't have the museums, theaters, art houses, libraries and music venues to explore. There are only so many shops, clubs and restaurants to frequent and if you are someone who doesn't like to do the same thing twice or needs to be doing "something" all day every day, well, you should probably reconsider island living. While there is much to do for the water enthusiast, people who don't embrace the simple pleasures island life allows (and there are many!) can be somewhat disenchanted and limited by choices. It is, I think, for this reason that drinking becomes an olympic sport here. Day drinking at 3pm on a Monday? Why not!
11. You will inevitably come down with "Island Fever."According to Maui Goodness, "Island Fever is the phenomena of feeling claustrophobic from the close proximity of each shoreline, and feeling disconnected from the outside world. This is a pretty common thing on the islands... Most people move away after a few months to a few years because of a lack of family and the necessity of having all the amenities of the mainland at their disposal." We have never lived on one island long enough to come down with this very real affliction, but have heard many a story about it. For this reason many seasoned islanders recommend getting "off the rock" at least once a year.
12. You will be an outsider. Here on my island you are either a belonger or...not.  As in "You belong" or "You do not belong." I am not joking. "Belonger" is the actual term and if you are one, you have a card in your wallet that says so. To become a "belonger" is only slightly easier than becoming a saint in the Roman Catholic Church. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure what it entails but I know it's just about impossible for me to ever become one so I don't really sweat it. Being a belonger has many, many perks that an non-belonger does not enjoy (having to deal with less bureaucracy is a big one) but it is how it should be and I get it. Regardless, I will never "belong" here.   And finally...
13. Living with that feeling that everyone thinks your life is perfect because you live here when in reality you are living with items 1-12 on a daily basis! It's true, once you relocate to paradise you simply are >>>no longer allowed to complain<<< because, obviously, our life is one giant vacation and we should just shut up and be grateful.  (thanks to my friend >>Claudia<<, for this one!)

    

    It's not all sunshine and rainbows, but it's pretty damn awesome if 1-13 aren't problems for you.

All said, I absolutely *love* living as an expat on an island (more in-depth post on this subject coming soon). I find this lifestyle vibrant, inspiring and I truly love my experience here. It's not all sunshine and rainbows (there are a lot of those, of course), and I've never met Jimmy Buffett or Kenny Chesney, but it *is* unique and if you have a flair for dichotomy and embrace the fact that adventure (and not always the thrilling kind you chose) awaits you each day, it just might be for you.

Word to the wise: if you still think that living on an island is for you, read Don't Stop the Carnival: A Novel by Herman Wouk. It is, so far, the best book about living and working in the islands I have ever read. It's a classic and will prepare you for living and working on a rock better than anything. We considered it "required reading" for our crew.