Time for Visiting
12 April 2012 | Casey's Dock, Rio Dulce
Beth / 90's / pleasant nights
In all our careful timing and working backward from day of departure, we forgot about making adequate time for visiting. It seems strange that even with all the social time we've had recently, we missed this important part at the end.
We know that Guatemalans place strong emphasis on family and friendships. The folks "from away" who have settled here do the same thing, and so do we. Yet in our flurry to get everything done and see one more part of the country before we fly home (earlier than usual because of things we need to do there), we didn't allow tiiiiimmmmme to spend with our friends at Madcap's summer home. We paid a short visit to the sailor on that little 22 ft boat in Gringo Bay. I don't want to tell you his name because his mother thinks he is safe and sound along the US coast somewhere. Instead, he sailed solo all the way to Guatemala and is bound for Panama - on a 22 ft boat! We could have used more time with him. We drifted by Lapus to find out that they live in Stella Bay, Amherst Island in Lake Ontario - a favourite weekend anchorage for us when we sailed out of Trident Yacht Club. We could certainly have spent an evening reminiscing with them.
We came over to the dock on Thursday morning, said "Hola" to Casey and Che and Bilo and Nicholas, did laundry, cleaned out cupboards, hauled out the dinghy, fine tuned "the list" (things to attend to over the next 6 months). At the end of the day, we sat down with Casey for a beer and a look at the list and then the three of us headed off for a final dinner at the Mothers' in Texan Bay.
Martin and Karen and Keith joined us there and we ate a delicious ribalo (fish) dinner, told stories, shared jokes - oh my - the way these 4 old friends tell jokes is a whole new experience - and remained on the patio after the women cleared the table, closed the shutters and turned out most of the lights. We had found a warm and comfortable and stimulating group of friends - and we had to leave them the very next day. Bad planning.
Casey steered his lancha back along the shoreline under the stars - through a tiny little hole in one mangrove cay - across the bay - past the church with the lanchas tied up outside - and snugged it under the thatched roof by his workshop. It had been a wonderful day, a fabulous evening, and we wiggled ourselves into our berth for one last night on board.
Those last nights are hard ones ... Thank goodness we are coming back.