You Know That When the Instructor Plays "Highway to Hell" During the Hardest Part of the Spin Class It's a Bad Omen--or, does Facebook really make us more witty?

I know for a fact that the internet has changed the way that we communicate; all you have to do is look at everyone staring at their phones all the time, updating their statuses on Facebook, Twitter, etc.; pinning stuff on Pinterest, watching Grumpy Cat videos, and making their lives complete by finding out exactly what sort of stupidity people who are famous for no apparent reason are up to now.  What I am interested in, though, is whether or not it's changed the way we think.  Has the internet--and Facebook in particular--changed the way our brains function?  I would argue that it has.  

I've been trying to decide what my feelings are about social media, and I've decided that I have a very fundamental beef with with most of it.  It's so exhibitionist!  OK, I am a very lucky person.  I am living in a beautiful place, my son is in the sort of school that I wish all children could attend, I don't have to work my butt off to survive, and I have the time and energy to do many things that I like to do, rather than only what I HAVE to do.  And have I mentioned that (I believe) that my son is the most beautiful child in the world?  He's also the funniest, the smartest, and I might be the best mom ever.  OK, so that last bit about me is probably not true, but I do believe the rest of it.  Now, does anyone who happens to see my Facebook page REALLY want to know all that?  And do they want to know that in many different forms?

I guess what I am saying is that I question what we are doing when we post online.  On the one hand, when I am traveling or doing something else that might be interesting to other people, then I think that social media is a great platform.  There is the off chance that someone might want to see my pictures of places that everyone is not lucky enough to be able to get to, so maybe I am making someone happy in that way.  Once in a while I'll see funny things and think that maybe other people might think they are funny too, so I'll share.  But most of the time I wonder whether people really don't have something else they could be doing rather than reading my ruminations.

Remember when you were a stressed-out teenager and you were worrying about what you would say when you ran into the guy--or the girl--you liked in the hall? Do you remember trying out different comments in your head and imagining the reaction?  I hope so, because I would hate to think that I am the only one who did that.  I think that most people tend to stop doing that regularly once they are out of their teens.  I haven't done it in quite a while, though, until this morning.

Or maybe I have done it but have not been conscious of it?  I'm not sure, really, but I do remember huffing and puffing away on the stationary bike--hoping it was about time to quit (without my glasses on I couldn't see the clock)--this morning when the instructor got off her bike, went over to the stereo, and started AC/DC's "Highway to Hell."  I immediately thought of the title of this post, envisioning posting it somewhere.  Here, I thought, is the revival of my blog, leading to other people's thoughts and comments, and everyone realizing that I am not doing nothing; in fact, I am working!  I'm just not getting paid for it (she says, in very small letters).

So then, have Facebook and other social networking sites changed the way we think of ourselves, and, by extension, the way we present ourselves to others?  I realize that I am a bit late to this party, but one of the things I have been musing about in my private journal for a while now is the this question of why we post the things we do on social networking sites.  On the one hand, of course we want other people--people who may be far away but who are nonetheless important to us, for example--to know how we are and what we are doing, but on the other hand, aren't we carefully crafting our self-images?  Don't we post pictures of our latest projects, cute kid videos, our dogs asleep, etc. at least partly to see what the reaction from other people will be?  Don't we want some sort of validation, whether it's for our hard work, our no-doubt superior parenting skills, beautifully groomed and intelligent pets, or simply for the fact that we've made it through another day?

Yes, I believe is the answer.  So then the question becomes, so what?  Why should we care?  What is the significance of this realization?  I, like many others, would argue that the significance of this epiphany is that we are becoming more selfish, more narcissistic.  I don't like to admit that about myself, especially because I do try to be unselfish.  I also hate admitting that I am not sure what to do about it, especially because I've had so much fun writing this and can't wait to post it!

It's Football Season in the US--and you know what that means!

Actually, you don't.  You don't because you are not in my bedroom on Monday and Tuesday mornings.  And that's OK.  In any case, what (American) football season means here in Lagos is that as soon as he wakes up on Monday and Tuesday mornings, Max (aged 8) checks the football scores on my iPod.  Max wanted "NFL Mobile" on there, so there it is.  I am still not used to NFL scores popping up every so often!  The quickest way to wake Max up in the morning is to tell him that Frank is going to check the scores without him.  First, they have to check the Packers and the Saints, then they see who else has played and who has a bye, and then they get into the real meat of the morning.  The usual discussion ensues:  what each team's prospects for the rest of the season might be, how they will/have fared against their future (or past) opponents, and what would happen if some sort of unanticipated random match up were to occur.  All this is punctuated by videos of the weekend's highlights and, if I ask, they will tell me whether or not I actually care what happened (if they are happy I'm happy; otherwise I really don't care):  I am perfectly happy that my opinions on these matters be dictated by the men in my life.

This routine got me thinking, though, about why so many women don't care much about football, which made me remember that I once taught an essay in a writing class called "Spandex Nation." It was written by someone whose name I can't remember (maybe Hilda Gonfor[?]--I am quite sure it was Hilda Someone because I thought at the time that Hilda is a very uncommon name.  If anyone knows, please let me know!  Now of course I have no idea what her essay has to do with American football, but it sparked this tribute from me at the time:

Homage to “Spandex Nation”

It’s time to take the issue of men and football out of the realm of cocktail conversation among women and hold it up to the light.  For years now, women have been frustrated in their attempts to understand American football.  Note, please, that I am not saying that women can’t understand it; I am a woman myself and I flatter myself that I am not stupid.  However, I don’t understand why, after years of boredom and frustration I finally understand only two important football concepts:  first, I understand what the four downs are and why they are important, and second, I understand that when a team switches from offense to defense, an entirely new set of players takes the field.  This fact, incidentally, is part of the reason that football teams (I am not including their staffs and hangers-on here) are so colossally large.

Now, let’s compare my experience with that of my husband, father, brother, and various ex-boyfriends.  My brother was watching football (knowledgeably) with my father when he was 5 years old.  My husband was born in Germany but moved to Wisconsin when he was four, so he understood the intricacies of the Packers’ playbook as soon as he learned English.  I've never really discussed the rules of football with my dad (an orthopedic surgeon), but I do remember it seemed like every time someone got injured he could diagnose how serious it was from the couch.  It's very disconcerting to hear, "Looks like he's out for the season" on what looked to me a pretty routine play.

When I was in my 20s I dated a guy who had only been in this country for four years.  He was one of the most opinionated and knowledgeable fans out there.  I asked him once how long it had taken him to understand the game and he told me that he understood the rules after watching only one or two games.    It seemed perfectly intuitive to him.  My son, who is now 8, has been telling me (accurately, apparently) whether or not I have an opinion on a particular game for years now.

The only possible answer has to be chromosomal.  When someone is born with a Y chromosome, the ability to intuitively understand American football is attached to one of the genes on it.  Since the human genome has not yet been mapped in its entirety, we don’t know which gene that is, but it does appear to mean that, due to our lack of this gene, women who want to understand football often must put in hours of painstaking and time-consuming work.   So the next time you watch a football game and think of the women reporting from the field as simple tokens to fill a quota, remember that they have probably put more time into training for their jobs than the players on the field, and they’ve certainly put in more time than their male counterparts.  Let’s have some respect for these highly qualified individuals because they have to want it more or they wouldn’t bother.

Finally Some Pictures

10 October, 2013

Now that we are back in Lagos and I have gotten the internet figured out again, here are a few pictures from the summer.  If you are on Facebook, you have probably seen them, but if not, there they are.

Abstract Cadiz

Boat near Cefalu, Italy

Another boat near Cefalu

Cefalu

Croatian Anchorage

Confession Reflection

Diane at the Beach

Diane at the Helm

Dubrovnik Boats

Belle and Frank

Dubrovnik Street

Dubrovnik Shutters

Happy Frank

Housewife Cadiz

Isabelle Relaxing

Isabelle is Pensive

Le Castella, Italy

Kayak Polo in Siracusa, Italy

Jack and his silly nephew in the cave in Korcula

Little boats better run...

Diane and her nephew

Jack and Max

Max from Above

Siracusa Alley

Near Vulcano, Italy

Max in Siracusa

Max in Bari

Siracusa Sunset

Siracusa

Square in Palermo, Italy

Storm's a-comin'

Octopus!

Jellyfish!

Frank, Isabelle, Max, and Me

From the house on Korcula--you can see our boat at the dock!

And Now, the Next Installment...

We are trying really hard to put the Mediterranean behind us, but we don't seem to be allowed to.  We thought yesterday that it was a beautiful day--perfect weather, calm seas (like a lake, really), so we left our quiet anchorage next to the power plant at 4:45 heading towards Estipona.  That required an overnight.

Frank went to bed at 9:30 and Max and I took the first shift.  We played some games and I watched for boats. There were a few waves, but not many.

By the time Frank woke up at midnight things had gotten rougher. We were fighting the wind and the waves, so we were not making good time.  Max brought his Powies and his glow-in-the-dark turtle into our room and the two of us lay down. Max went to sleep after a few minutes, but I could not.

We had high waves--for NO apparent reason--all night. We had to abandon our plans for Estipona and change course for Benalmadena, only about 18 miles away.

[Added much later]:  We made Benalmadena and spent a day there.  Then we continued towards Lagos.  Our trip after this was uneventful, although I should note that we were ZOOMING through the Straits of Gibraltar.  We had the current and the waves pushing us and we were making almost 8 knots at one point!

We arrived back in Lagos on September 22 and Max started school again on the 24th.  He only missed three days, thanks to Frank's incredible planning and navigation!

The Boring--sorry, uneventful--Part of the Trip

Nothing nearly as interesting as the storm and nearly running out of diesel has happened lately.  We last had internet in Mallorca in Porto Christo, three days ago.  We left there on Monday under cloudy skies, and the clouds have stayed ever since.  We've gotten some rain, but not much.  The Boring---sorry, uneventful--Part of the Trip

The only other thing was that last night we were in a very crowded anchorage and had a short but intense thunderstorm.  It was very windy and we had to anchor in water that was much deeper than we wanted to, but there wasn't any room anywhere else.  We actually almost hit another boat when the anchor didn't hold, so we had to pick up the anchor and try again.  The second time it did hold, which was a good thing because we were closer to the rocky cliffs than we wanted to be.   

Now we are heading along the coast of mainland Spain.  We follow the coast for a few days before going through Gibraltar and heading towards Portugal.  We are hoping to be there in 8-9 days.

Sunday, 15 September

Friday afternoon we stopped in Torreveija to get diesel and spend the night so that we could fill the water and shop.  We were thrilled to discover that the marina only charged €15 for the night.

The thrill stopped there, however. We were directed to a very narrow slip which Frank was going to have to back into.  This in itself is not uncommon, but the space he had to turn the boat in to get in position was much, much too small. Even I know that you can't turn a 12-meter boat in a barely 14-meter space without asking for trouble.  The marina does not, judging from what we heard later.

Frank did eventually get the boat turned around (he has gotten quite competent at this sort of thing this summer, especially when you consider that we do not have bow thrusters [those allow the boat to be steered sideways and if we ever buy another boat it will have them]) but unfortunately got caught on the anchor lines of some of the other boats.  

In case I haven't been clear about how these Mediterranean moorings work, they are designed to fit as many boats as possible in a small space, so all the boats go in either bow or stern first.  Two lines hold the boat to the dock, and then lines are attached to the bottom of the harbor and the dock. Someone has to be on shore to pass the anchor line to someone on the boat.  Then that person attaches the anchor line to the end of the boat NOT attached to the dock to keep it from trying to go forward out of the slip.  Usually there is just one anchor line per boat, but this marina had two per boat; it was the sort of marina that once you get in you might as well stay and save yourself the trauma of having to moor again if you go out. We did notice that there seemed to be a sort of community there who all knew each other, much like in Lagos, so we think they are probably staying for the winter. 

In any case, we had pretty much everyone who happened to be around trying to help us and express opinions. Frank was his usual unflustered self (but I know it was an act) and did not panic or get snippy with anyone.  After about an hour we did finally get in, although we did have a line caught around the keel.  Everyone who helped us was very sympathetic to our plight, all (according to them) of them having been in the same boat. It was a miracle that no damage was done to any boats!

We ended up having to get a diver to go down and untangle the line. I really resented having to pay for that because I think it was irresponsible of the marina to tell us to go to that slip. It seems a pretty common problem; one guy who also has a 12-meter boat said that he's been arguing with the marina about the narrowness but hasn't gotten anywhere. 

Saturday morning we got out of there as early as possible after hitting the grocery store (a very nice one, at least) and motorsailed fir most of the day until we stopped at a quiet anchorage that had mooring buoys!  

We left there at 4:45 this morning and have been battling the wind and waves ever since. Our luck may have run out as far as that's concerned.

Monday: our luck had run out. Fortunately we found a very quiet, sheltered anchorage next to a power plant. It wasn't much to look at, but the water was crystal clear and there were  very few waves. Max swam out with Frank to check the anchor and then later did it a couple if times on his own. We had a quiet afternoon swimming and playing Qwirkle.

Sardinia? Mallorca? Menorca? A Storm and Other Adventures

Wednesday was a lovely day in Marsala, even though we were woken up at 5:00AM by a light rain.  It soon cleared up and we did a major shopping and were able to check the weather and the internet.

We got diesel at the very tiny fuel quay (even though there was not much room and the wind was pushing us towards the dock, with the guys on the dock pushing, Frank got us off beautifully) and left around noon, intending to go to an island about 20 miles away and stop there for the night before heading to Sardinia.

Well, the course of this sailing trip never did run smoothly, to shamelessly paraphrase Shakespeare.  When we got to the island we saw that the harbor was way too small and shallow for us to get in (the chart was inaccurate on this point), so the only thing to do was to head for Sardinia.  The bad thing about that was that it meant sailing overnight (which I am not crazy about), but we did not have a choice.

The next day we had good winds and were able to sail all day without the motor, so we decided to head for Menorca, which required another overnight.  We are on a time schedule and were sailing without the motor and had good weather with the waves helping to push us, so figured we would just keep going.

There were some clouds, but no rain and they looked like fair weather clouds.  Anyway, we had checked the weather before we left and there were no storms or rain predicted.

Unfortunately, it does not appear that we can necessarily trust the weather.  Max was just about to beat me at chess--again--when I looked up and saw a waterspout coming from one of the clouds.  Suddenly everything had changed.  The clouds had gotten darker and more threatening and it was looking like we were going to be in for a big one.  It was too late to head for a harbor or to change course for Sardinia again, so all we could do was to batten down the hatches and prepare the boat.

Frank is afraid that people will think he is incompetent because of all the things that have happened to us, but I can assure you that he is not.  As long as there is no blood involved (if there were he would probably pass out and make me steer the boat--and no one wants that!), he is fantastic in a crisis.  He just refuses to panic.

We all put our life jackets on and we quickly brought in the sails while Frank was deciding which was the safest way to go.  We didn't think we could outrun the storm and it was such a big system that there wasn't any way that we could miss it completely, but we hoped that staying near the edge of it would mean that we missed the brunt of it.

Max was not afraid at all.  He stayed downstairs, calmly eating sandwiches and reading a book while Frank and I anxiously watched the sky.  We hightailed it out of there as quickly as we could and were much relieved to see clear skies ahead and even a few stars as the sun set.

The sunset was in some senses the scariest part of all.  I have never seen a light like that.  The only way I know how to describe it is that it was a MEAN light--yellow like a legal pad with a little brown mustard mixed in.  There was a stripe of dark gray clouds above it and a very angry, defiant-looking sun.  It was truly eerie, but it was behind us and ahead of us we saw clear skies.

We did get some rain and wind; Frank was wearing full rain gear and had harnessed himself to the boat in anticipation of very large waves (Max and I were downstairs).  However, none of it was nearly what we had been afraid of and after about 45 minutes we were entirely clear of the storm save for the lightning which was fast receding behind us.  Max had fallen asleep in his life jacket, so I left it on him for a couple of hours before I finally got him to go to bed.

The next day the wind continued favorably and the weather was good so we decided to keep going and try and get to Mallorca, about 40 miles further than Menorca.  It was an uneventful day and an uneventful overnight sail without using the motor.

Friday was a different story, however.  A beautiful day, but an unsailable headwind so we had to motor all day and all night.  That meant a lot of diesel consumption and at 5:30AM Saturday I heard ominous sounds coming from the motor.  We still had 50 miles to our destination (once Frank calculated how much diesel our un-looked-for motoring necessity had consumed we had given up on Mallorca and changed course again for Menorca) and still no wind.   We shut off the motor and waited till daylight, at which point we added our 20 liters of diesel from the jerry can.  Now we are very hot and very slowly heading for Menorca, wishing for some wind to speed us up and save some diesel--apparently our couple days of really good wind was all we are going to get!

Frank Under the Boat

We are to be spared nothing on this trip, apparently.  We left Siracusa under cloudy skies and on rocking waves, intending to get as far as we could and then anchor.  Unfortunately, along the way we picked up a fishing net and were dragging it behind us.  We tried with the boathook to dislodge it but it was too deep and we couldn't move it.  We thought that maybe it was wrapped around the keel.  Since we were sailing without the motor we figured we would deal with it once we stopped to anchor.  The waves may have been left over from the low pressure system which had been hanging around and wouldn't lift, but they would not let up and we watched the one boat we saw anchored leave the anchorage we were considering and head for the nearest harbor, which was only about two miles away.

Unless we wanted to spend the night rocking like those things on TV that the lottery balls get shaken in we were going to have to go in the harbor too, but we were afraid to start the motor with the net still down there. There was no choice but for Frank to go down and look.  It's unfortunate for him, but I am no help in situations like this because I can't see anything without my glasses.  The bad thing was that the seas were rough and it was going to start getting dark soon.

Fortunately it was shallow enough that we could drop the anchor, although without the motor we were not entirely sure it had set.  Frank tried for at least half an hour but could not dislodge the line; it was wrapped around the propeller.  It was very scary to watch him bobbing around in the waves, especially when he had to go under the boat.  Since he couldn't find a swimsuit quickly he went in naked.  The bright white where his swimsuit usually is made him easy to see against the dark water, at least!  I was watching from on deck and I kept envisioning him being knocked on the head by the boat.  He was tied to a line, but it was still terrifying.  (His comment later:  "If I die, you should go in [to the dock] bow-first.  It's much easier and since you have a hard time steering going forward anyway, you would probably get confused in reverse.").

He did manage to cut it short enough that, with luck, the motor wouldn't jam and we would make it to the harbor where we could get a diver to go down and finish the job.  If it hadn't been so rough Frank could probably have done it, but it was impossible with the waves the way they were.

Success!  The motor started, did not jam, and we made our way SLOWLY into the marina.  The next day it took a diver ten minutes to get it off and we were on our way.  Today (Tuesday) we are heading for Marsala, where we will get provisions, shower, and fill water before starting the trek to Sardinia.

Catania and Siracusa

Thursday the 29th of August dawned a little cloudy, but not too dark so we set off from our anchorage at about 5:30AM heading for Catania.  There is a Waldorf school there, so we were curious about the city.  Things were relatively uneventful until the afternoon, when the wind picked up.  Suddenly, with the wind pushing us and the waves for once working in our favor, we were flying!  At one point we were going 8.5 knots solely under sail!

Every cloud does not have a silver lining, though.  It started to rain and a little later we were in the middle of a full-fledged thunderstorm--pouring rain, waves, and little visibility.  It was especially nervewracking because we were only about three miles from Catania and so should have been able to see the harbor entrance clearly.  Frank did not want to go into the harbor blind, so we were forced to slow the boat down and wait it out.  Fortunately it was only about half an hour before things started to clear up and we could approach the harbor.

For some reason, Italian marinas are horrible about answering when we call them on the radio, so we had to go in hoping rather than knowing that there would be someone there to help us moor.  A stern-to mooring is very difficult to do without help because Frank has to back the boat into what is usually a very narrow space towards the dock rather than coming alongside, so it's nearly impossible for me to jump off with a line.  Once he gets into the space, he also has to contend with the bow of the boat swinging around and possibly hitting the boats on either side until someone on shore can pass someone on board the anchor line (a line which is attached somewhere either on the dock or to the bottom and is then secured tightly to the bow of the boat to stop the boat from swinging and/or going forward).  All these things are complicated by wind and the fact that this boat does not really like to respond all that quickly in reverse.

Given the circumstances, we were not looking forward to mooring by ourselves, but we had no choice.  Someone somewhere likes us, though, because the wind died down and there was a wide space just waiting for us.  Usually the marina prefers to tell you where they want you, but it looked like more rain and we couldn't get anyone on the radio, so we took the space.  Frank made a masterful mooring.  We did not even touch the boats on either side and he was able to get boat close enough to the dock that I was able to easily get off and secure the boat. Frank took care of the anchor line, Max tossed me the other stern line, and we were in!

Catania is a pretty city, much nicer than Palermo.  It had very few tourists, but it has lots of narrow streets, old buildings, and lots of restaurants.  The maria was not very conveniently situated and it wasn't that easy to orient ourselves, but Frank managed fine, of course.

There were lots of people sitting outside, at bars and cafes and on benches and in the squares.  Italians are very social and like to sit outside in groups, especially the old men.  Max got a good picture of a bunch of old men having an animated conversation on a park bench.  We had a yummy pizza (we had promised Max that we would have real Sicilian pizza) and went to bed, planning to get up early and sightsee.

The next day we went into town and ate breakfast.  Frank and I had croissants and Max ate tiramisu.  It's a good thing we are not out for breakfast every day!

We needed groceries and it was Saturday, so the market was in full swing.  It took up two full blocks and was like something out of a movie with all these people crowding around the vendors and everyone talking at once.  The produce was wonderful, though!  We were even able to get broccoli, which we have not seen for weeks.  Some of the vendors even had corn on the cob, but I distrusted it.  It looked old and tough, so we passed it up.

Siracusa was only about 30 miles away, so we headed there at 11:30.  This was by far my favorite city so far.  It was not touristy and had interesting buildings and narrow streets.  It was especially pretty with all the clouds in the background.  We saw some guys playing what looked like water polo in kayaks.  Siracusa is also very clean.  It does not, however, have a Wegmans!

We will anchor tonight.

Catching Up Finally!

Hi, all--
I haven't been posting for a while as internet has been sketchy, so here are a whole bunch of posts so you can catch up with us.  Sorry it's so long!

July 12, I think

Learning is a good thing...

but does it have to happen all at once?  So far we have had bad weather, less-than-favorable winds, a malfunctioning chart plotter, the wrong chart for the chart plotter, a ripped sail, and to add to the list of woes we ran aground the other day and had to be rescued.  On the upside, we have learned how to deal with all of these things much faster than we would have otherwise, and we found out yesterday that running aground did not do any damage, so that at least was in our favor.  The weather has improved even if the winds have not, and we do feel like we know the boat much better than we did.

None of us could believe how quickly we ran aground.  The area was very badly marked; in fact, there was nothing to indicate shallow water that we could see.  Frank was checking the depth and I looked out and commented that it was getting shallow and BAM!  We were stuck.  The waves that were hitting us did not help us get out either.  We had to call the marina we had just left and they sent help.  I think probably most sailors have a running aground story; now that we have ours does that mean we are off the hook?

Even though we have not had time to do much exploring of Sardinia, we have had a good experience in spite of the running aground.  Everyone has gone out of their way to be helpful.  The woman in the marina near where we ran aground made all kinds of phone calls for us--to boatyards, to the bank when we needed to get cash and the one ATM in town was still out of order (after having been out of order the night before as well) and lent Frank the marina's scooter to get out to the money machine which was quite far away.  She also gave him a lift out there the first time he tried to get money because she said it was too hard to explain how to get there.

When we crossed the bay to the boatyard to have the keel looked at the person we needed was at lunch so we had a couple of hours to wait.  Rather than having us walk into town (which was not far and which we were certainly capable of doing), a couple of guys from the boatyard ran us over to town in their dinghy.

The same people ran the marina who ran the boatyard in Carloforte where they checked the keel.  The next hurdle was that we needed diesel but the fuel quay was in the fishing harbor and it was too shallow for us to get in, so they lent us a bunch of large Jerry cans to take across the street to the gas station (we only have one and it is filled with extra diesel for an emergency) so we could fill the tank without having to go 30 miles out of our way.

That is a messy job--Frank and Isabelle were covered in gas by the time they were finished.  I stayed clean so I could cook.  We all took advantage of the showers.

We spent last night in Carloforte and were underway by 6:00 this morning.  When we first left there was a tiny breeze behind us and now at 10:00AM there is almost none.  The seas are calm and glassy, so at least we are not fighting the waves.

36 hours later we stopped to anchor and it was rocky, but nice not to have be awake through another night.  Now we are in Palermo, having arrived around 4:00.  Tonight we will have a yummy Italian meal (being pretty much out of food til we shop) and do a little sightseeing after showers.  

July 15, I believe:

Italy

We've been in Italy and/or its islands for about a week now.  Of course nothing would be complete without problems, so we ran aground.  I told that story in my last post, though, so won't rehash it here.

The only other things that happened were that we had no power for about 36 hours until I figured out that the inverter switch needed to be flipped (and no, six months ago I did not know what that was), so now we can charge stuff up again.  The other thing was more annoying, which was that the anchor winch wouldn't lift the anchor without a lot of help.  Fortunately for us, though, as we were consulting the manual yesterday a man came by in a dinghy and told us how to fix it.  Peoplecare so helpful; fixing it only required tightening a screw, so we can add that to the list of things we've learned.  Just part of learning the boat, I guess!

In any case, we stopped in Palermo for two days and had a look at the city.  There is a Waldorf school there that goes up to the 8th grade so we had a look at it too. I am sure that Palermo, like all big cities, is nicer when it is not 90 degrees outside, but on the whole I thought the part we saw was loud, dirty, and crowded and I was glad to leave it.

As seems to usual in Italy, the people at the marina were very nice and helpful.  They recommended good restaurants and sent our laundry out for us.  THAT was a guilt-inducing experience; it just feels wrong to have someone else do something like that that I am entirely capable of doing myself.  It was nice to find that the tank tops I work out in had been ironed, however.

In the marina in Palermo we were moored next to what might be the biggest privately owned yacht I've ever seen.  It was 61 meters long and had its own uniformed crew.  Isabelle looked it up online but of course it didn't say who owned it.  They had a party the first night we were there and put out a blue carpet for the guests to walk on.  We weren't invited to the party even though we had showered and everything!

Since leaving Palermo we've been anchoring.  Max likes to anchor because he likes to swim off the stern.  Sunday night we anchored near Vulcano, where there is an active volcano.  We could see the smoke coming from the top 13 km away!

The coast is beautiful with its towns full of white houses and boats anchored in front of them.  Since the Internet is harder to come by than I thought and I am doing most of my writing on my iPod rather than trekking my computer to an Internet cafe), I think that what I will do is to make an album of pictures from the trip and post them on Facebook after we get back (Dad, I promise to email them to you).  It is going to take some time to go through them anyway!

The past couple of days have been very relaxing with swimming and not too much distance each day, but tomorrow we will head through the Straits of Messina to Reggio de Calabria or Scylla, depending on what kind of time we make.  Starting tomorrow I think the distances will get longer again, but we are hoping to anchor and not have any more overnight sails.

We need to shop before too long, as we are largely out of food for main meals!  It's almost time for a desperation dinner and Max says he doesn't want another one of those.

Max and Isabelle went fishing the other night and Isabelle caught a baby octopus.  We brought it up on deck to photograph it before we let it go but it slithered off on its own.  This morning Max caught a jellyfish and we photographed it too.

There seem to be more powerboats down here, as well as more large sailboats; at "only" 40 feet we are one of the little boats!

This post is a compilation of different thoughts.  Note that while they seem to be largely negative, our trip has been positive.

Things We Have Learned This Summer (in no particular order):

1.  Even pumpernickel will mold eventually.

2.  You must keep take-and-bake bread in the refrigerator.

3.  Boats at night are generally further away than they appear.  There is no need to do donuts to get away from them.  That will not help us get back on course, but will get Frank to come out and rescue me.

4.  Mooring bow- or stern-to is a pain in the rear end, but it's really easy to leave when it's time to go.

5.  Europe is a REALLY big continent when you are making fewer than 7 knots per hour.

6.  Have I mentioned how much I miss my 18-135mm lens?

7.  It's sort of lonely in the middle of the ocean in the middle of the night.

8.  It is humanly impossible to control the amount of clutter that four people on a 40-foot boat can create.  It is foolish to even try, except that if I didn't I would have to jump overboard.  It would be the only escape possible.

9.  Apparently, no day is complete unless something is not working.

10.  When you use a wide-angle lens on a sailboat you get a lot of lines in the pictures.

11. Even air-tight containers don't guarantee that your food won't mold.

12.  Max has decided that he wants to raise money for charity.

13.  Mosquitoes can even find their way to the middle of the ocean to worship Isabelle and Max.  Unfortunately, they don't want to be mosquito gods.

14.  Max has discovered the joy of skinny dipping.

15.  Our capacity for chess and sheepshead has become larger than we ever thought possible.

16.  Not all parts of Italy are beautiful, but Italians might be the most helpful people on the planet.

17.  When the autopilot goes out, check the manual before you confirm "autopilot reset."

18.  Max says that "Mom has become a 'good enough' mechanic."

19.  It takes skill to push an overloaded grocery cart for a mile.

20.  Sailors in general are very helpful.

21.  There are both advantages and disadvantages to not knowing when you wake up what your day will be like.  It's both exciting and frustrating.

22.  A 300-liter water tank will last longer than I thought.  It doesn't mean that we can get crazy, but it does mean that we don't have to measure every drop.

Around the 23rd of July:

We've been traveling along the southern coast of Italy (on the toe) for about a week now and it has been an experience.  Unlike the rest of Italy (at least as far as I can tell), this part doesn't seem all that interested in developing itself as an area for boaters.

It's sort of odd because even though it seems that Italians prefer motorboats, tanking up is difficult and/or inconvenient.  We've been to at least several  places where our pilot book said there was diesel, only to find that there was no diesel or it was out of order with no information as to when it would be fixed.

There was one place where Frank had to borrow a bunch of Jerry cans and trek the gas from the gas station and another where a cab driver went and got us a can of gas, and yet another where the guy at the marina drove Frank to the gas station.

That was yesterday and apparently the gas station had been out of order for so long that he had ordered a special hose to siphon the gas from the Jerry cans to the boat.  It made the process very clean and very quick; he can siphon 20 liters a minute.  We need one of those!  He said he had to order it from the US; they can't be found in Europe.  He said that the pumps were supposed to be fixed in a month.  I wouldn't hold out a lot of hope if I were he, was what I thought.

Today (Saturday) the seas have been rougher than they've been so far.  We've got a good wind, though, and are hoping to make today's goal pretty early.  Max was seasick earlier but has recovered.

I had no idea how large a country Italy is; we've been here for about 10 days and still have about three to go before we cross into Croatia.

One thing this trip has done is make us better at solving problems.  Frank in particular is getting very good at coming up with solutions that will work until we can get a real fix.  For example, a shackle came off the jib and we don't have an extra one, so he rigged it up with a tiny padlock until we can get a new one later today.

Later, the autopilot went out for no apparent reason, so I thought it would be a good idea to reset it.  Unfortunately, I didn't check the manual before I hit the "confirm reset" button, so I didn't realize that doing so meant that we would have to basically reinstall the thing both with the dockside settings and the sea settings.  Couple that with the fact that Frank had gotten almost no sleep the night before and my inability to hold a course (I'm working on it, but it meant that he couldn't take the nap he had been looking forward to; Isabelle was also taking a nap) and you can imagine how far down on the blacklist I spent the afternoon!

On the upside, though, we were able to reset it successfully, so it works again.  Frank slept well Saturday night, so he is much happier this morning.

July 28:

The Worst Anchorage Ever (Almost)

Tonight we are anchored near Brindisi.  I suppose we should have questioned why there were no other boats here, but we had been sailing (mostly motor sailing) since 6:00AM and by 7:30PM we were ready to stop.

We lowered the anchor and Max, Isabelle, and Frank had a swim and then we ate.  Then when we went to bed the problems began...

We were across from some sort of resort, which is never a good idea because Italians seem to like to vacation together at resorts that play REALLY bad music.  The music started about 9:30 and got progressively louder until about midnight, and it was so loud that it woke Max.  Max sleeps through anything, so you know that was bad.    At least the Italians aren't like the Spanish who are barely getting started at midnight!

Then we had the mosquito infestation. We were all itchy and getting itchier as the invasion progressed.   Frank found a bunch of them on the walls in our cabin (I couldn't see them without my glasses) so started bashing at them.  Unfortunately, most of the ones he killed had already eaten, so now it looks like some sort of massacre took place in there.   Meanwhile, Max had come in our room and was thrashing around trying to scratch his itches and get away from the ones that were after him.

Now it's almost three in the morning and all four of us are sitting around scratching our itches and complaining about the infestation.  We've got all the hatches closed or screened but we are still under siege.

I have no idea why the mosquitoes flew 150 meters over the water to get to us when there are all those people at the resort to eat, but I do know that tonight was the worst anchorage ever (well, almost; we didn't get dashed against the rocks).

The Second Worst Anchorage Ever  (July 29)

We anchored near Mola de Bari last night.  It was a bit weird to be right outside of the marina, but it was a real anchorage.  The weather was nice when we arrived and had a swim.  We ate and congratulated ourselves on finding what appeared to be a better anchorage than the night before.  However, there was still bad music, although it stopped pretty early.  The worst part was that it was literally 1000 degrees with absolutely NO wind.  None of us got much sleep and that was compounded by the fact that the wind picked up so much so that by the time we decided to leave (having gotten tired of the constant rolling and rocking) and head into the marina we literally couldn't moor.  So....out we went to brave the wind and the waves, which were terrible.  Poor Max got seasick, but recovered.  Frank did a masterful job mooring once we got to the next marina, though!  Now we are sitting here online listening to the wind blow.  Looks like more of the same tomorrow, so I think we'll be here for one more day.