In Retrospect

Not a palm tree in sight.

We are enjoying life on land, with its not-boiling-hot weather (I love fall!!), stand-up refrigerators (no more taking everything out of the fridge for that last piece of cheese), employment opportunities, family fun times and vast floor space perfect for crawling babies. But the transition has not been without some nostalgia.  

For one thing, we had an amazing time. With each other, with our boat and with the ocean. We met tons of new people, made lasting friendships, spoke regularly in a foreign language, hiked through jungles, swam in pristine reefs, learned the sport of spearfishing and lived on the ocean for days at a time with no outside contact except the occasional sea bird or passing dolphin pod. People rarely get to experience such complete solitude or to travel so extensively, bringing their home with them.

And I wish we could have kept going for a few more years, especially up into the Sea of Cortez with its electric blue water and storms of sea life and desert landscape. It just looked incredible, but so it goes sometimes. Even though we didn't travel much this last year, I'm happy that we accomplished something much more important. We were able to stay with our baby, both of us, for almost his entire first year, which is just unheard of normally. You can't get much better than that. 

So without further ado, here are some photos of our trip and beyond. 

And because it just wouldn't be a blog post without some baby pics, here are some photos of Jari since we've been back in the States. I can hardly believe it, but he's almost 1. Just a month and half to go. 

A Trip of Firsts

We experienced many a first on our little jaunt to Punta de Mita. It was the first time we boated with baby, which was family fun times but also way more work for Vlad. We even beach landed the dinghy with Jari, and despite all my anxiety he did not get swept out to sea. It also showed us how much extra time it takes to do things with a baby. It took us two weeks to get ready to go to Punta de Mita, and that is a 9-mile trip! I'm hoping that it won't always be that bad, but gone are the days when we could get things stowed and provision in a day. Now, we are reduced to one person working rather than two, and somehow it really equals out to only half a person. Yeah, we are slow.

Also, it was the first time we've seen Mexican fishing bats. After Jari had blessedly gone to sleep one evening, Vlad and I were chilling out in the cockpit, and we noticed a quick flash of brown that kept zipping across the water. Was it a bird? No, it was a bat, and a rather large one at that. We could hear it's wings skim the surface like the rustling of leaves and thought that it might be eating fish rather than insects. As it turns out, there are two species of marine fishing bat -the fish-eating myotis and the greater bulldog bat, and though we couldn't tell which type these were in the dark I'm gunning for the fish-eating myotis. Mostly they live well into the Sea of Cortez, but they inhabit islands like the Marietas, which are just a few miles offshore. Also, they were oddly stinky. We could actually smell them as they flew past. The whole situation reminded me of when we were invaded by fruit bats in Panama, and Vlad thought that whatever brushed his leg in the night was just a giant moth. Nope, it was a fruit bat eating our bananas. Thankfully, these bats stuck to the water.

This next one is a downer. It was the first time Jari rolled off our bed onto the solid teak floor. I cried almost as much as he did, but he did not even have a bruise. It's definitely time for lee cloths. And, finally, it was our first anniversary! We didn't do anything special, unless you include family cuddle piles and Vlad cooking dinner special. I know I do.

Going Places

For the first time in a year, we actually went somewhere new on our boat, and though a Pacific crossing it was not, we had a lovely time in Punta de Mita, the resort and surf town at the edge of Banderas Bay.

And it was great! The anchorage was a million times better than the one at La Cruz, less swell and a gentle breeze in the afternoon instead of the gusting winds we generally get down here. The water was just gorgeous, that dreamy tropical blue, and we took Jari for some more swim time, which included dodging paddle boarders and hanging out with a group of local kids who can best be described as "scamps."

We also got to put Jari in what I've been calling the Mexican high chair of death. Every restaurant in Mexico seems to have the same high chair that has nothing to strap a baby in so they could easily fall through the gap between the chair and the tray. Of course, we were trying to be relaxed about it, but our little perpetual motion machine always scoots forward as much as possible while constantly wriggling and banging his arm on the tray, clamoring for more and edging ever closer to sliding through the gap. But who doesn't want a side of danger with their lunch?

The town of Punta de Mita is a bit odd. We've seen resort areas in Mexico, the usual palapa bars and hotels lining the beach, but Mita had a garrison wall of condos that made me nervous about boiling oil or a barrage of arrows if we got too close. Once you walk past the palapas and the intimidating condo wall, the town is kind of barren, all concrete and dust and few trees. And to really play up the stark divide, you then hit another manicured resort that's gated. Anyway, weird place.

But it has the best fish tacos I've had so far in Mexico, and the baby got swept up in mariachi madness and stolen by another Mexican lady. Though I guess you can't really call that news since it happens every time we go out.

Well, That Worked

Somewhere in the stacks is our baby's birth certificate.

You have no idea how close I came to writing the opposite title. We just spent three full days in Guadalajara trying to get Jari's birth certificate fixed, and it looked like it was a lost cause. Everyone kept telling us it was impossible. Oh, no, they said, you need a lawyer, and it will take a year to fix. But paperwork is kind of like life. Persistence is key.

On the our last day in Guadalajara, we decided to pester the ladies at the Registro Civil just one more time, and for some reason that was the day they suggested going to the main archive office. That's where we met the man who would solve all our problems. You see, Jess and James had a similar issue, and they had gotten an amendment to the birth certificate clarifying Jess's name. So we knew we could do something similar, but we had to fight for three days through the "you can't do that" crowd. The folks at the archive office seemed to deal with this sort of thing all the time, or they perhaps took pity on us. Whatever the case, after a gathering of paperwork (and lots of stamping!), we finally got an amendment to the birth certificate, and Jari can now easily get a Mexican passport.

On a somewhat unrelated note, we love, love, love Guadalajara. Unlike Puerto Vallarta, the weather is gorgeous. There's a ton of things to do. The food is cheap and good and so is the coffee. It's a super vibrant city that has an old-world, European flavor but with bomber tacos, and as an added bonus they have great public transportation.

The subway in Guadalajara.

 The public transportation is especially fun because Jari is a smile predator. Like a lion at the watering hole, he is constantly on the lookout for his next victim, and a bus is the perfect environment for him to grin at every passing stranger.  And all the Mexicanos are happy to oblige. He even got passed around the Registro Civil and had a ball, giggling and drooling on everyone's important documents. This kid is a total ham.

Jari in his element.

As to how we should have filled out the hospital paperwork, honestly, after all this I'm still not sure. It seems as though every gringo we spoke with or read about who had a baby in Mexico got some portion of the name wrong. I'll update this post if I ever figure it out.

We Cut the Dock Lines ... Again

A very nice morning in La Cruz.

Right now we are sitting in the most amazing of places, a spot we haven't been to in almost a year. The anchorage. I am currently typing in our cockpit, enjoying a cup of coffee and looking at the sprinkle of boats anchored in the flat calm bay. The pelicans are causing trouble, and occasionally a fish breaks the surface tension. Can you tell that it feels really, really good to be back? 

Before this run, the longest we had ever stayed in a marina since leaving Texas was two weeks at Shelter Bay because my dad was visiting and because of some Panama Canal business, and I thought that was extravagant. If you want to cruise on the cheap, it's obvious that marina's are not the place to be, but we were dealing with atypical circumstances. Nothing like having a baby to stick you on the docks for a few months.

Unfortunately, the main anchorage here in Banderas Bay is kind of crap. It has zero protection and gets super choppy when the winds kick up in the afternoon, which makes for wet dinghy rides. But we're hoping as we travel up the coast we will find more hospitable digs. Even with the chop and roll, we are still liking this life if yesterday evening was any indication. The wind was still gusting, and we all sat in the cockpit as the sun was going down. Vlad and I talked shop, while Jari sat in his diaper playing with a toy giraffe and watching the seagulls dip and dive. There aren't too many better ways to end a day.

Epic Fail: Mexican Passport Edition

Why won't anyone give this kid a passport?

We just can't seem to catch a break when it comes to passports. Yesterday, Vlad, Jari and I went to San Vicente to get Jari's Mexican passport squared away only to return to the boat with a good dose of "what the heck do we do now," and it's all because of my name.

You see, in Mexico children take both their father's and mother's last names, and all paperwork reflects that custom. So the form that Vlad filled out in the hospital asked for my first name, my father's last name and my mother's last name. This form, which he was told was my admitting paperwork, is actually a very important piece of paper. It's the form upon which all of Jari's other paperwork is based in Mexico, and Vlad filled it out as it directed and yet also incorrectly.

To make matters even more confusing, my middle name is my mother's last name, so the lady at the birth certificate office was just baffled by me and wrote my name down as Attila Berry Loving instead of Attila Loving Berry on Jari's birth certificate. She was insistent that I have my mother's last name tacked on to my last name, and I went along with it, thinking that was just how they did it in Mexico. Add to this the fact that we had just had a really intense experience. I was recovering from a C-section and could barely walk, and we were adjusting to life with a week-old baby. So you can understand how this mistake went down. What's in a name anyway?

Now, however, thanks to a woman at the passport office, we see things differently. My actual name has to be the name on Jari's birth certificate, not the name that I would have if I had been born in Mexico, which is the humorous sounding Attila Loving Berry Loving. Nope, that's not how it's done. Had we been able to get Jari's passport started in Guadalajara, we could have fixed this mistake right away, but because he was two weeks late we just didn't have time.

So what to do about this latest international incident? The lady at the passport office suggested hiring a lawyer. Vlad thinks the simplest way is for me to change my name to Attila Berry Loving, which has a certain work around appeal. But I think we might have found our answer thanks to Jess and James, who had pretty much the exact thing happen to them. Because of a similar middle name/last name conundrum, they had to get Rocket's birth certificate amended, which basically means finding the right guy with the right stamp. (And you know how much we love stamps!) So our next adventure is finding the magical stamp man, and then maybe, just maybe, our kiddo will get a passport.

Cloth Diapers on a Boat

*Disclaimer: This is post describes an adventure in old school domesticity. If such throwbacks don't interest you, please feel free to read other, less poop-filled items.

While strolling the docks with Jari, I have had multiple people come up to me and say, "Oh, a baby on a boat. You're so brave!" I'm never quite sure how to respond to this since living on a boat with a baby doesn't seem much different from living in a house with a baby. Sure, it's smaller and a bit more wobbly, but it's just as much a home. What they should say is "Oh, cloth diapering on a boat. You're so crazy!" And that is pretty much how I feel every time I'm scrubbing a load of inserts.

Some of my earliest memories are of "helping" my parents fold my little brother's cloth diapers, and I always planned to use them when I had a baby. They are, after all, more economical, and they don't fill up landfills like their disposable brethren. I did not plan, however, to have a baby on a boat, a boat without a washing machine and with only a 50 gallon water tank. A limited water supply was never a factor I considered.

But to my surprise, I have been cloth diapering like a madwoman and have developed a daily washing ritual, despite my undying hatred of doing laundry on a boat unless it's up a river in the Kuna Yala with plenty of crocodiles to keep things sporting. Not only am I doing it, but I actually get a strange sort of satisfaction out of seeing those diapers fluttering on the lifelines in the afternoon breeze, like, yeah, I've actually accomplished something. Would I trade that feeling for a washing machine? In a heartbeat. But it's nice to know that I have the capability to not completely hate this often times gross daily activity.

So just in case there are other crazy people out there who want to cloth diaper on a boat (you maniacs!), here's my daily recipe for poop stew, as I fondly call it.

First, I rinse the diapers in fresh water, though you can easily use salt if away from the dock. Then, I soak them in diaper detergent and boiling water for a couple of hours, and just to make it even more old school, I scrub them in the sink using a small washboard that my mom and Bob found for us. This surprisingly removes most of the stains (Did you know that baby poop is a bright 1970s mustard yellow? Yeah, neither did I.) and I rinse them a couple of times in fresh water, wringing them out each time. And finally, and this is the best part, I hang them up in the sun, which magically bleaches out any leftover stains.

I use two types of diapers: the old, old school flat kind that your grandma probably used and microfiber inserts. Both have their ups and downs. The flats don't hold as much pee, which means more washing, but they dry super quickly in the sun and catch the more liquidy poop better. The inserts take forever to dry and aren't so great in the poop department, but they are super absorbent.

Here's Jari sporting a flat diaper with an origami fold.

Of course, washing diapers has upped our water use, but I think you could use salt water for most of the process except the final rinse. When underway, people also throw dirty diapers in a mesh bag or tie them to a line and drag them behind the boat. We will have to experiment further once we get off the dock, but we plan to use gDiaper disposable inserts while underway. They are biodegradable, contain no plastics and can be tossed overboard. That means you don't have to use fresh water for washing diapers while away from land, and you also avoid arriving at your destination with an extra special present for the local populace. Nothing says "hello" quite like a trash bag or two full of poop and plastic.

I've also been trying out a fancy, hand-cranked washing machine that Jess and James on Adamastor gave us. It's gotten mixed reviews from other cruisers, and Jess didn't like it much. However, I'm enjoying it at least at the dock, and if it works better than the washboard, I'll let you know. For further reading on this utterly engaging subject (c'mon, you know you liked it), please check out these sites.

Jess, James and Rocket got an awesome sponsorship with gDiapers. Check out their adventures in cloth diapering here, here, here, here, here and here. And here's a link to their Mothership page, which details other good baby-on-a-boat products.

Once Upon A Time has a nice description of washing diapers while sailing the South Pacific.

And a special thanks to Terra Tots, the baby store in Fayetteville, AR. They convinced me that flat diapers would be where it's at on a boat, and they were so right. Thanks for all the advice, guys!

A Meeting of the Minds

I have to admit that Sid Vicious has gotten short shrift here lately. The poor guy hasn't had his evening cuddles lately because I've been so busy with all things baby, though Vlad and the occasional visitor have taken up the slack. The situation reminds me of an article I read on Slate titled "The One Thing No One Tells You Before You Have Kids: Don't Get a Dog."

However, guess who loves the hedgehog? Our kiddo. In fact, I've never see him happier than when we bring out the pig of the sea.

Of course, Jari hasn't had the pleasure of touching Sid yet, and a fist full of quills might change his mind on the wondrousness that is all things hedgehog. But that's a lesson for another day. Have a lovely weekend, everyone!

Family Fun Times

My dad and Aleks came for a visit last week to meet the new addition to the family, and Jari gave them plenty of snuggles and smiles. They wound up really enjoying La Cruz with its small-town easiness, its plethora of taco stands and old men and kids hanging out in the square. My dad couldn't  even get lost wandering the four streets.

In fact, he liked La Cruz so much that he verged on the sacrilegious. He said that if he wasn't so attached to his place in the Ozarks he'd consider moving here, and I have never heard my dad say anything remotely like this about any other place on the planet. Ever.

Plus, they saw whales! Lots of them. January and February are the peak whale watching months, and Dad and Aleks got quite a show. They even saw a humpback breach. Unfortunately, Jari and I couldn't go with them because the little guy didn't meet the age requirements.  Only a couple more years, buddy.

Thanks for the wonderful trip, Aleks and Dad! We miss you already and can't wait for the next visit. Here's some more photos of awesome family goodness:

Aleks and Dad brought Jari some baby sunglasses, and he is now the hit of the dock. People have literally stopped to take his picture.

Baby's First Swim

And as proof that we are bad Mexican parents, we took Jari to the beach for the first time while Natasha was here. His ocean baptism didn't last long, just a quick dip, and he didn't cry exactly. Mainly he practiced his monkey death grip, clenching Vlad's chest hair for dear life.

One of my main fears with a baby on a boat is sunburn. Technically, he isn't supposed to wear sunscreen yet. It's either a sunsuit, which we don't have, or shade, shade and more shade. I see a lot more beach gear in our future. Or at least an actual beach umbrella.

Update from Babyland

Only seven weeks left to go!

So in case anyone was wondering, things have been muy bien in Babyland. Overall, pregnancy has been a very pleasant, despite the whole morning sickness drama that we went through. I've been in a really good mood, and morning sickness aside it's been kind of fun, though admittedly I am not nearly as spry as I used to be. And in case anyone was extra curious, we are having a boy! He is healthy, about five pounds right now and moves around like crazy. And best of all, he looks like a grumpy old man in his ultrasound pictures.

See what I mean?

For our prenatal care, we've been seeing Dra. Laura Garcia in Puerto Vallarta, who is now famous in pregnant women boating in Mexico circles (an oddly larger group than you would imagine), but, even though we love on the Dra. Laura, we are going to have the baby at a natural birthing center in Guadalajara.

Why would we travel five hours by bus to have a baby? Well, it mainly has to do with Mexico's fifty percent c-section rate. Obviously, I would completely embrace a c-section if something went wrong. I just didn't like the idea of having a fifty percent chance of major abdominal surgery without it truly being medically necessary or of being looked at as odd because we were opting for a more natural approach. So off to Guadalajara we go.

Plenitude, the birth center, is attached to a hospital. Everyone speaks English, which means I won't have to try to communicate in abysmal Spanish during a time when that part of my brain may cease to function, and most importantly it's a super welcoming and relaxing place, according to our friends who recently had their baby girl there.

Plus, why pass up a trip to do some inland travel, especially to a place that's 10 degrees cooler than PV? We still have to do some boat stuff this month. However, by the time we head to Guadalajara, we will have a whole three weeks to relax and watch movies and eat cake, and I will get to once more trounce Vlad in a "friendly" game of dominoes while we wait for this baby to arrive. The due date, for what it's worth, is November 20th, so let the countdown begin!