May 7, 2012 Dear Family and Friends, I am pretty sure I am dreaming and I am waiting to wake up. The full moon is just risen and big, boiling clouds are flying across the sky and over the tall stone pinnacles for which Hanavave Bay or the Bay of Virgins on the Isle of Fatu Hiva is known. The rushing air is warm and humid as it buffets me and somewhere on the cliffs a goat bleats plaintively. Though I cannot see them, I know the giant mantas which were swimming round our boat yesterday are nearby as are the pod of dolphins who were feeding at the entrance when we arrived. Also nearby are the people of the little town of Hanavave with their curious eyes and smiling faces who have so eagerly befriended us during our stay. Yesterday one such new friend invited us to go today to the soccer games at Omoa the other little town on Fatu Hiva only a few miles away. We had no idea until this morning that he meant to go by outrigger canoe down the rugged coast sculpted by the sea into a magnificent arch, deep caverns and grottoes. This had been my secret longing and it lived up to all my expectations. Skimming along the water very close to the rocky shore we shot through the wavelets and the sunbeams laughing and chatting and sharing our astonishment at the mysterious shoreline. On arrival we clamored off the boat over the pointed bow and walked past the old school buildings which were condemned after the Tsunami hit shore taking huge chunks of the island shoreline five years ago. We peeked into a beautiful church designated Catholic but curiously Swedenborgian in nature with a large wavey clam shell holding the holy water and a pulpit fashioned from a broad stump exquisitely carved with symbols surrounding the face of Christ. We next arrived to our surprise at an indoor but open and breezy soccer court --as did seemingly every other able local spanning ages of a few months to several decades. Sitting down with a 2 liter bottle of ice tea lightly sweetened with prickly pear juice, we settled in to enjoy the games. Several teams played round robin style with each team's players ranging in age from late twenties to fifties. We were painfully aware of the fact that no young men of army age were present just as we have seen no young men in town between the age of 18 and mid twenties. Neither are teenagers about since they all are shipped off to boarding school at another island. This leaves babies and children through elementary school age as well as their parents and grandparents. The games were wonderfully entertaining. I marveled at the speed, foot dexterity, sense of center and balance as players dashed about the cement court without jerseys or protection of any kind. Some of the players even had no shoes. Whenever a moment occurred with potential for tension -such as a long awaited and painstakingly set up only to be missed goal- laughter would flood through the crowd at the error. Everyone remained in good humor the entire time despite it being so hot and humid that the players were in danger of melting into puddles right there on the court and some were nottced after the game to be sitting cross-legged under faucets which gushed cool water over their heads. The night before soccer, we had enjoyed an evening which originally began as a cooking lesson/dinner combo but which evolved into a child's birthday party with cake and music and an amazing banquet which we were privileged to assist in preparing. It is said that half the population of Fatu Hiva is children and it seemed that about half of them showed up for the party. We had dinner and cake and then music with singing and dancing. The children knew all the words to all the songs and sang them with gusto accompanied by our hosts on the guitar and ukulele. Then the children started dancing and the room fell into a joyful and awed silence as the birthday girl, just turned 8, took the imaginary stage and mesmerized us with her graceful and poised but energetic gyrations. She even led people onto the floor to dance with her refusing to let them escape until they had given the activity their best effort and managing not to breakdown into laughter at their ungainly attempts to copy her. But most amazing was her grace. She could have balanced a glass of water on her head all the while her hands poised and reaching and her dark eyes sparkling with delight yet soft and inquisitive as they met each gaze. She seemed to embody all the beauty and strength of her culture. But now it is midnight and I am sailing away from Fatu Hiva. It is bright as twilight out with the full moon reflecting from towering squall clouds and white capped seas. As I sail downwind the sea behind me breaks with a rolling growl and sometimes the slap of a wave top folding over. It lifts and pushes me along before a gurgling white line that rolls away to both sides as the boat plows ahead. The wind is brisk and the boat pulls nicely as fat raindrops splat down spreading their coolness over me. They fall fast and heavy but wide spaced and they are perfectly pleasant in the warm night. I move Sushi rolled up in his bed to the ledge behind the dodger window out of the rain and he rearranges himself twice and falls back asleep. I am alone on watch. Occasionally a gust pushes hard and I say a little verse to myself to find again the quiet within me. And then suddenly the wind just drops away and the atmosphere is like the inside of a cave as though something sucked all the air away and it is too too quiet. The sea is quiet too and I hear the soft splashing and breathing of a pod of dolphins feeding all around the boat in the stillness. It feels as though the world is holding its breath until across the dark mirror of water comes toward me a darker roughness and I know the wind is coming fast beneath a blanket of dark cloud and white butting up against the water. I smell the rain and wafting in between is the ever-present perfume of tropical flowers. The rain is coming again pelting the sea and whipping itself and the sea into a mist. In no time the sea is once again a seething, churning mass of whitecaps and we are surfing down the waves . The only constant is change. When the stillness prevails, the wind is coming. In the midst of the wind, the breathless stillness lies. Of course soon it is again quiet and beautiful and I have a moment to realize I am at peace as I leave new friends behind while holding them forever in my heart noticing once again gratefully how my life continues to change because of their open hearts. I turn my back and look ahead to the next chapter. We are on our way to Ua Pou. Always, Pat and John and Rebekah and Sushi aboard S/V The Rose in The Marquesas