Tag: Mexico
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Capitana
“¿Capitana?” asks Guillermina, the manager of Marina Mazatlán. Are you the Captain? “Sí,” I reply, yes, and she smiles widely. A man comes in the office while I am signing the docking contract. “She is the Captain,” she brags, and he gives me a thumbs-up. Role model! Because I am doing what I am supposed…
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Untied
Sometimes after swimming in the ocean a surge of emotion rises up: sorrow, anger, joy. Sometimes a mélange. I’ve learned to ride it like a swell, and listen to what it has to say. Gratitude emerged last Sunday: to my mother for taking me to the sea; to my father for teaching me how to…
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Tea with the Bottom Cleaners
Initially I hired folks to clean Habibi’s hull so I could learn how to do it. Then, the next month, I wanted to learn how to replace the sacrificial zinc (the anode becomes corroded instead of the propeller shaft). Then I was injured and wanted to keep Lefty Foot clean and dry. They are friendly,…
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Friend or Food?
The more I snorkel, the fewer fish I eat. Yes, I know, fish eat fish. But after meeting an octopus, I was distressed to see her on the menu of a local café. Such grace and beauty, fried on a plate? No way, man. I am not a fan of ‘catch and release’ either. If…
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Sounds
Dolphins in my swimmin’ hole! Well, theirs, yeah? The whole ocean. I hear them before I see them, breathing. Hoosh hoosh. Standing on a small hill overlooking the calm Sea, I turn toward the sound. Hoosh hoosh hoosh. A pod! Such joy. They swim south around the point, out of sight. Sunrise. More excellent sounds: “Alliterative tour de force.”…
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Fishing
“Where’s your husband?” asks a stocky, mustachioed man halting before me. He holds a long fishing rod in one hand. With a mouth full of burrito de machaca, I gesture to the butcher shop across the street. He moves on down the Loreto sidewalk, twirling his reel. It’s hot, but I’m too hungry to find…
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Dusk
A faint path lopes along the top of the isthmus that separates the mooring lagoon from the sea. I didn’t notice it for a month, and trudged the rougher scree that tried to throw me off balance. Imagine my delight one evening, in the slanting rays, to find an easier way. And it was always…
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Tink
Habibi has a side-kick, Tinkerbell the dinghy. Tink for short, rhyming with ‘dink’, which is what some folks call their dinghies. She’s a wooden rowboat with oars. “You need a motor,” said Francisco from the guard shack. I was returning with provisions from the big city (Loreto, about 18 highway miles away, population 20K). “I am…
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In Praise of Floating Boat Hooks
A piece of advice: given the choice of letting go of the boat hook or releasing the mooring line, always release the mooring line! Otherwise the current and Habibi’s momentum will wrench the boat hook from your grasp (which you’ve used to catch the line), and you will watch with dismay as both line and hook…
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Heard
Anxiety is finally taking a back seat. Feels like years that she’s been driving me around. But now I have a home — Habibi of the Sea. And time and space to write. A publisher contacted me recently. She’s interested in Letters to Lulu, the epistolary novella I penned in 2013, the same year I evacuated…
words & art by shé 