Hey, sailor

The same way the local guys wait for the tides of American girls, I wait for the tides of sailors. Were it not for the cobblestone road between the university and the beach, they would literally wash up on my doorstep. So far I've met two Italians, a Spaniard, a Brit, a Kiwi, two Canadians, three Americans, and a Jamaican named Mikey. I'm not talking about the tourists on cruise boats, but the people who sail for years, or the people hired to help those crazy people.

Either way, and regardless of age, gender, or nationality, they have great stories, because they're sailors. Magi the Spaniard and Mikey the Jamaican, for example, came to the islands with a French couple who bickered incessantly on their enormous wealth-blue yacht, and after only a day in the bay, Magi was kicked off. Some skirmish. He said he was happy to offload, though sad to leave Mikey, with whom he had developed a wonderfully strange pronunciation of English. 

Today I put on my goggles and swam out to the newcomers--two catamarans and a mono-haul. The distance was easy, but as usual I had to manage my fear of sharks, sea lions, and rays. No one here will give me a straight answer about the sharks. A surfer was bitten on Isabella Island, you see, but more on that later.

Having passed the imagined minefield of foes, I lifted my goggles. The American boat was silent and the Austrian reserved, but the pay-off was the third: a catamaran from South Africa. Hooray for sailor etiquette. Gideon from Capetown invited me aboard, offered me a shower and a towel, and introduced me to his wife Chantal and two children--Josh and baby Indy. "Is that short for something?" I hoped aloud. "Indiana Jones. We were gonna change it, but..." "No, no! You're living my dream! I wish I had a baby named Indy!" "Get your own dream!" said Josh, waving a wooden sword. I think he was trying to protect his blonde brother.

The government lets them stay for 20 days, provided they don't leave the bay. I suspect the park fee for cruising the other islands is steep. They said they planned to stay for two weeks, and would I like to come over for cocktails? After all, someone needed to keep company the young man they picked up in Panama to help crew ("just running errands in town now"). Apparently he's a surf instructor from California and very charming.

Josh waved his wooden sword, I dove into the shark pool, and the people on the beach asked where I had been for an hour. I love my doorstep.