Friday, 24 February 2012

chacala part II: sharp scissors, confusion, and a beach

Chez Kyra - Free haircuts, no guarantees!
It was time. He put on a brave face. I promised not to poke his eye out. I am not sure who's idea it was. Okay, I suggested it. At first, he looked scared. After all, many moons ago, I think I drew blood... Once or twice. Yep. Rick got a haircut. By me. (And no, I don't know what I'm doing.)

This was the morning after we anchored near Chacala after a 35 hour passage. Rick had been whining, uh, frustrated with his hair. It was getting into his eyes. Feeling pragmatic, I told him: "No problem, I'll take care of it." Yes Jen, I have amazing persuasive abilities. Even when Rick knows better. (Then again, he was still recovering from the passage, his guard was down.)

There was no bleeding, only a couple near misses. Rick still has both eyes. His hair is not too obviously crooked - it helps that he embraces the tousled, carefree look. We're still married, and he's still cute. Phew. No one warned me about these inevitable cruising hurdles.


Rick was being a smart-ass
'Nuff said
After we recovered from that experience, we rowed to shore. The friendly port captain remembered us from our last visit in January. We had come here with Dana and loved it. I asked (in what I thought was my best Spanish) if he knew where we could get more diesel. This being a small town, there is no gas/diesel station nearby. He sent us to Construrama. A hardware store. It seemed strange, but hey, what did we know. 

We meet Claudia, and ask for diesel. I pronounce it dee-ay-sal. (Let's call it me over-Spanish-ing the word.) She explains that she only sells it in powder form. When she sees the dumbfounded look on my face, she grabs a bag of some kind of white powder to show me. I say "Huh, diesel? Como gasoline?", and she replies "Oooh, diesel!" (It turns out, it's pronounced dee-sle. She thought I was saying gesso. I am not kidding. I wondered if that's what the port captain had also understood. 

Luckily, Claudia very kindly offered to go to the next town the next day and pick some up for us. That is, after she was done laughing at me. Sometimes, I wonder how we got this far.

It's dinner time! (For the bird, not us)
After the traumatic hair cut, and the diesel
debacle, we recovered at a beach palapa, and 
enjoyed a lovely (uneventful) walk the beach.

Chacala, a different view
(Kinda like coming through the back entrance) I like it

This, in my opinion, is perfect
The next day, the sun was shining and we decided to be beach bums. We perfected the craft all day long. It was fabulous.

A beach, waves and a boat... See the boat on the right? That's us

I swear, I was having fun

So long Chacala, we still like you. A lot.

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