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Letters from a yacht

I've decided to ditch sailblogs and start blogging on wordpress site:


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nothing for mahala
06/16/2012, lobby lounge restaurant

Joey always says to me, missus, nothing for mahala!! And I always answer, ja Jo, jy's reg. But I never thought overly deeply, about what she was saying, and about what I was saying. I have tonight though. Pat had to fly from NYC this afternoon, to a site meeting in Houston and returns on Monday evening. So, I'm alone, in this stunning hotel, with lots of time to think. I'm sitting next to the window, on the 35th floor, of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel, sipping a glass of Sancerre, as I type this. The view over Central Park is beautiful. The sun is setting slowly and turning these skyscrapers into all sorts of shades of copper and gold. They are gigantic. And innumerable. Housing probably ten million people. All around me, signs flash. Nails!! 24/7. Massage!! 24/7. Pharmacy 24/7. Supermarket 24/7. Diner!! 24/7. Almost whatever I can think of, is here, and available, nonstop. Within my block, I have basically, an entire village. Cobbler, laundry, dry cleaner, hairdresser etc. So, although NY is huge, one can exist easily within your block. And everything is easy and accessible. Unlike the south of France. There, almost everything is a struggle. People work from 9am to 12. Close for lunch and re-open at three or four, only to close at five or six again. Nothing is terribly easy. Or available. And when it is, you are often told Non!! Without any good reason. Because they CAN say "non". But life there, is slow, savoured and good. Quiet. Except for the regular church bells, ringing out the times of day and night. And the little children, breaking for lunch at eleven thirty, shouting out to each other, bon appetit, Paul!!!!!!! Bon appetit Mayliss!!!! Here, people eat on the run, alone, quickly, almost as an aside. In France, life revolves around the meal time. The baking of the baguette. You do your own nails unless you're prepared to pay a high price. Your own washing, drying, cooking, cleaning etc. But, not a day goes by, without a neighbour or somebody caring and sharing. A freshly picked lettuce. Just dug potatoes. Warm apricots. I see many lonely faces here. I feel many disturbed energies here. There too, I guess. Just not so obvious. I sit and wonder, if I ever had the choice, where I would choose to live? If I could choose to live anywhere in the world.....where would I choose to live? The only answer I can come up with tonight, is...where the heart is!! And my heart is firmly buried in Pats pocket, so...if you could choose, where would you choose? Just remember Jo's wise words. Nothing for mahala. Each place has a price to pay.. A la prochaine Xx

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12/28/2012 | Larry Anderson
Love it!! So well put! You were able to say what so many of us think as we travel around the world, making our observations.

Happy New Year to you and safe travels!
06/13/2012, villelongue

yesterday, was a totally hurried day, of packing and preparing to leave. B back to Paris on the TGV and Pat and me to NY for ten days. My ninety year old neighbour and his wife, would look after my prized geraniums for me, while we're away. As we were washing the last of the dinner dishes, I took a plate and placed the remaining giant, red Rousillon grapes and apricots on it, to take over to M. Roger and to give him our courtyard gate key. Pat said, don't let this take an hour now. As I've said before, conversations in the village, go slowly. Things that we normally take five minutes to do, take an hour. So, I said, ok will you please take this and the key. Tell him, this is la cle pour la porte, ok. Pats French is improving, slowly:-))!! He said I should stand by, in case. I stood well back and listened. And then laughed so hard that I could feel the joy seeping into all of my tired cells. M. Roger is a proud Catalanian, as are most of the villagers. The more Pat tried to convince Madame Jeanine, that he ne parle pas francais, the louder she rattled off in Catalanian. Utterly convinced, that the louder she spoke, the more he'd understand. That's when M. Roger, joined in. Now there were two of them, going hammer and thongs and Pat trying to be polite. The final straw came when I heard M. Roger saying demaing, instead of the French demain and I hear Pat repeating demaing after him!!! Finally, he returned to the kitchen, white faced and frustrated, only to find me bent over in laughter, unable to move!! I'm seriously going to learn to speak French now, he says!! Not sure what he's going to learn in our village. I teach him French but all the neighbours teach him Catalanian and he's too polite to say anything:-))!!! So, soon he'll be speaking a good mix of the two:-)). To be honest, the Catalanian is way easier..our neighbour Chantelle keeps referring to the veng mareng. Le vent Marin, actually. The sea wind!! I had to stop myself. Like a tune that you can't get out of your head, I kept repeating veng mareng in my head, because it rhymes so well.  Well, time to prepare to board our next flight from Paris to NY, so... A la prochaine xx

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06/13/2012 | Theresa
Oh that is priceless!! Madame J has a good strong voice at the best of times! I can just imagine them talking to P in full steam Catalanian. At least our ears are now tuned to the peng , the demeng and the veng mareng! I agree the last has a lovely ring to it!! GO Catalonia!! Xxxx
3G test
06/09/2012, xx

testing if this new 3G works

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06/10/2012 | Theresa
Yes your post is there!xx Same pic though?xxx

Centre court

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The final day
05/28/2012, Xx

When I updated this latest position and then looked at it on the map, it was hard to believe, the very long way, that this 46'leopard catamaran has sailed!! Soon, she will be tied up safely in Canet port. Almost unbelievable. Cape to Canet!! Well, by Gods grace, all went well. I'm too nervous to say much more but will write more, once they're safely on dry land. Should be this afternoon.

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05/28/2012 | Alfeld family
So excited for you all!! What an has been wonderful following it, thanks!! Love from us all Jxx

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Who: Patrick, Sherryl & Gareth
Port: Cape Town
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