Night Sailing

I did not know I would love sailing at night. No fear, just endless sea and stars. The sound of Habibi’s hull parting the ocean into bioluminescent waves. Wind filling the sails. Learning the navigation system. Keeping watch. Singing. Resting in the cockpit, swaddled in blankets, supremely content.

I have always loved the peace and quiet of night. I can relax, the hurry and scurry of daylight momentarily abated. I breathe and expand, safe in the arms of darkness. I was born eyes-wide-open at 12:42 a.m., which might explain my comfort.

Mazatlán, by contrast, is not quiet or dark. Despite this, I like it. The strong woman singer at the pizza joint. Surfers at a local break. Kind, helpful people.

On Valentine’s Day I find a little craft market in the Zona Dorada — the Golden Zone. Greeting me is a card of bright red watercolor hearts. I pay the artist for her gift, and wander inside. Vegetables! The best I’ve seen in months: fat orange carrots, big red radishes, leafy cilantro, and tasty-looking Brussels sprouts. I ask the farmer how to say ‘radish’ in Spanish, but before she can answer a man interrupts to make fun of my raincoat. The next day, vindication: a gentle downpour cleans the city.

The rain continues, and I worry about the flooding cockpit. But I will bail it out, ascertain the problem, and determine a solution. A new friend wrote that owning a boat provides endless opportunities for learning. She’s right. But that just might also be Life.

Every once in awhile I panic. What the hell am I doing? Living on a boat in México?! And then I smile. Look at me! I’m living on a boat in México.