Laundry in paradise

I’m sitting at Tanty Lizzy’s Seaside Fountain. Only there’s no fountain. There is a Tanty Lizzy though, and she’s not someone to mess with.

Yesterday while waiting for our laundry at the friendly Laundromat on the main strip (only street) of Tyrell Bay, sipping beers and playing Scrabble at a cute red picnic table under some cool shade, Tanty herself came trundling out of a dark establishment across the road and rained on our parade, big time. She explained in a few not-so-friendly words, that we were on her property and we had better buy our drinks from her or get the *bleep* out.

We had no idea of course, that the bus shelter/game centre belonged to any bar or restaurant, and apologised profusely, in fear of a beating or worse. By the end of the afternoon, a few beers later (bought from Tanty Lizzy of course), and a couple questionable plates of lambi (conch) stew later, we were all friends. Hence I’m back, but this time I’m blogging.

Blogging at Tanty Lizzy's while waiting for laundry

 What a sight I must be – in a tropical paradise, my little Macbook, camera and iPhone on display, plugging away at the keys, while local fishermen, school children and fellow yachties in their well worn crocs saunter by, going about their day.

I feel the days slipping by, undocumented, one turquoise, salty, sun-soaked day melting into the next. It’s deliciously warm and relaxing and even the exciting moments anchoring, running aground on sand, finding eels in the waves and sailing in ‘perfect conditions’ with our mainsail up in 20knts wind, are all just part of the life.

We've now taken the journey from Grenada up through the southern Grenadines and we are heading very slowly back.

Tonight will be a potluck on the beach with some new and known friends. Last night’s miniature rum squall involved a gang of us on the beach, rum and beer of course, and some snacks that soon became sandy when a little wind gust threw our blanket up and over the fresh guacamole and my second attempt at corn bread. These were the casualties of the night.

The life of a cruiser has in it, all the normal things like laundry, cooking, cleaning (mostly getting rid of sand, salt and mold from the boat). In fact, it has some added frustrations, like EVERYTHING turns to mold if left unattended for longer than a week. JW's last remnant of his 'corporate self', his leather belt was dug out this morning and looked like this:

 But there is the benefit of the constant journey, discovery, conquest. It involves facing your insignificance out there at sea, as a tiny floating blip. The adrenaline flow as you play with the formidable forces of the wind and the massive ocean. 

The arrival at each new bay, like discoverers, I stand up on the bow while JW leads us valiantly in, dodging rocks, fishing lines, mooring balls and other boats, finding our ‘spot’ for the night or week.

It’s all exciting, invigorating, inspiring.

And you get to do your chores in places like this: