Living and Cooking Aboard In My Floating Malibu Barbie Kitchen

The topic of food is close to everyone's heart, whether you live on land or sea.

In planning for our great adventure, Chris and I have been living aboard Espiritu, our Newport 41, for the last year and a half in San Pedro, California. Living aboard is essentially "practice" for the cruising life. It's "cruising LITE."

A big fear I had when we first moved aboard was living without a microwave oven. Happily, this hasn't been the great adjustment that I feared. On land, my major microwave use was for my nightly cup of chamomile tea which I would take to bed with me every evening. Aboard Espiritu, I have let that longstanding ritual fall away for the simple reason that our v-berth, while extremely comfortable and cozy once you are wrapped up in its loving arms, is not easy to enter and exit...which means I want to limit my fluids in the evening before bed, if you get my drift... :-)

As a liveaboard, the major change in my cooking routine has been I bake less. In fact, I don't really bake at all on the boat -- YET. You see, I've got this little Malibu Barbie floating kitchen. Every component is smaller than in a typical American "real-life" kitchen. And the fact that I'm a 6 foot tall "Viking Warrior Princess" (family nickname) makes it seem that much tinier.

 The sensation is similar to eating a meal on an airplane: you know how you get the cute little plate, and the cute little cup, and the cute little tray, with the adorable little utensils?

 Well, this is my culinary life aboard Espiritu.


My "excuse" (read: rationalization) for not baking aboard YET is the fact that I have a longer commute to work since moving aboard and by the time I get home in the evening it's simply too late to bake. Instead, I cook. I saute. On the stovetop, thank you very much.

But the real reason I haven't really baked aboard yet is I admit I'm still sort of afraid of that tiny little oven. It's not much bigger than my EZ Bake Oven I had when I was 9 -- but in a way that one was superior because at least my EZ Bake Oven had a light!

My floating fears of propane and rogue explosions start rearing their ugly head. And I've gotta practically get on my hands and knees to use the thing -- and it's so dark in there (LOL...). And don't get me started on lighting the broiler...

Anyway, once we are underway baking will become a necessity. Also, obviously, I will have time to bake as my 40+ hour desk job will be a memory. We plan on cruising economically and simply which means rare restaurants and eating aboard Espiritu three times daily.

Yes, I have big baking plans for me and my Malibu Barbie Kitchen, with it's EZ Bake Oven. We will bake whole wheat bread twice a week, enchiladas, lasagne, cornbread, homemade crackers, oatmeal cookies...

But that's still just a dream....

Top 10 Things I'll Miss When We Head To Sea

About 40 days 'til we up anchor and head to sea. Thoughts naturally turn to things on land -- American land -- that I will miss during our travels:

10) The Matinee

Ya gotta love the ritual of it: The planning. The reading of reviews. The fact that you must always wear a sweatshirt even in the middle of summer because the air condioning is so luxuriously strong. The "let's not eat for 3 hours before the movie so we can really LOOOOOVE that popcorn!" The post movie breakdown and discussion. I realize there will be movie theaters in other countries -- and I imagine we'll see the names "Brad Pitt," Reese Witherspoon," and "Ryan Gostling" up on the marquis. But do they even serve popcorn at the movies in Mexico or Tonga? And will Meryl Streep's latest impassioned role be just as powerful badly dubbed in Spanish? Don't answer that... :-/

9) Christmas Cards

In these wireless times, there are few things in modern life which are as tactile a reminder of my youth as Christmas cards. They are nostalgia personified. May they never go out of style (and may the Post Office never go bankrupt! :-/). Don't even try to send us one during our travels. It will never arrive...

8) Wheels

OK. I'll admit it. I'll miss my car -- and the freedom she provides me. When Chris and I arrive in a new port, we'll be strapping on our backpacks and walking to the market. Or we might take the bus, with the ubiquitous chickens running up and down the aisle. Our plan is to return to the states in the best physical condition of our lives. This will all be good. But there's something about your own wheels...

7) Ice

Even in the year 2011, something as simple as ice remains a modern pleasure out of the financial reach of many around the world. And they say it's not safe to partake of it in Mexico. Lord knows when I'll have it again after November 1st. Our best shot is to befriend a couple in a really super-phat megayacht anchored in Cabo and hope they invite us aboard to wet our whistle with a chilled Diet Pepsi and fresh cubes from their sub-zero. But then, I guess we'd actually have to TALK to them (sorry, my prejudice against ultra rich, ultra-snobby megayacht owners just flashed its ugly head...).

6) The Local Hangout

Jerry, George, Elaine and Kramer had Monks. Ours currently is the Lighthouse Cafe in San Pedro. It's got everything: comfortable seating, really good food, a friendly staff, excellent prices. Of course we will encounter quality restaurants throughout our travels, but by the nature of travel, each place is a new find. The pleasure and comfort of The Local Hangout will be out of our reach, as long as we are away from home.

5) My Bathtub

Men, this is something you just won't understand. There is nothing like a bath. It is luxury personified. We will be showering (Boooooo!) either on the boat or as a guest in marinas. But now that I think about it, our plan once we get into the tropics will be to actually jump into the warm, clear water and bathe right in there with biodegradable soap. Which I suppose means the worlds oceans will BE my bathtub. You can't read a book in there, though...also, shaving my legs will be hard, not to mention dangerous, as I tread water...well, I guess we'll have to work out those details when we get there...

4) Work

I know, I know. Crazy. By the very nature of the sailing/cruising life, we will be working. Always. Cleaning. Maintaining. Hauling water. Cooking. But I will miss the ritual -- the routine -- of going into my job every day, sitting at my desk, turning on my computer and DOING something. Being productive. Earning my keep. I'm hoping that within 48 hours of entering Mexican waters I will look back in shock and disbelief at the "old me" that was such a tool that she could have ever written these ridiculous words... :-)

3) Snow

Again, there is nothing like it. The past 7 winters at Green Valley Lake (elevation 7,000 feet -- or 2134 meters -- since we're leaving the US I need to leave behind our ridiculous system and join the civilized world with the metric system) have been magical. For whatever reason, we as humans are programmed to see white as pure and sacred. The great thing about walking in the forest after a fresh dumping is there is often no sound, except for your breathing and the crunch of your snowshoes digging into the twinkling drifts. This I will miss.

2) My Fireplace

I know, I know, burning wood is now politically incorrect (modern science proves it is just as toxic and polluting as my belching SUV, which is on my list to unload when we get back). But there is no denying its power to fascinate, comfort and entrance. It is even more packed with nostalgic meaning than those damn Christmas Cards -- but now that I think about it, is there any scene more symbolic of home and family than the burning hearth, with Christmas cards hanging from the fireplace? Which brings me to...

1) You People

Sigh. All of this talk of home and hearth and Christmas cards and bathtubs is making me miss you guys already. What am I going to do without you? Your hugs, your smiles, your laughter? Your irritated calls after I've gone to bed to complain about something I haven't done? (LOL -- kidding. KIDDING!) The gift you can give me, for me to have the trip of a lifetime, is for you to treat each other well and with kindness while I'm gone. Be nice to each other. Take a bath together. Well, maybe not that. Go for a walk in the snow together, then take in a matinee, then enjoy an icy drink around the fireplace for me, OK?

How safe IS Mexico?

It's about 6 weeks until Chris and I shove off and sail south into Mexico. Seems like a good time to ask the question: How safe IS Mexico?

It's pretty entertaining to observe the wide variety of differing responses we get when we share our travel plans. It usually includes some combination of raised eyebrows, shocked utterances ("Oh really?") and pregnant pauses, followed by a smattering of well meaning questions from our landlubber friends and family:

"What about tsunamis?"

"Don't you worry about storms at sea?"

"What about pirates?"

"Will you have, uh, radar, and stuff like that?"

And the most common:

"Isn't Mexico dangerous?"


Sigh. Look, I'm as shocked and horrified by photos of beheaded Mexicans as the next person. And the news media has shown us plenty of them in recent years. We can tell ourselves that 95% of the violence is between drug cartels and the police, and is confined to the Northeastern border of Mexico (far from the Pacific coast).  But it's still scary.

So here's where it's a good idea to apply my Rule #1 in decision making:


Try to make decisions with equal parts heart and head.

Clearly, photos of beheaded people cuts right to the heart -- emotions like repulsion and especially fear spring to the forefront. We've got the "heart" part down (emotion). Now what about the head (reason and intellect)?

In researching this topic a few months ago I searched State Department and travel websites and found several entries akin to the following:

"Use caution with ATMs and be aware that burglary and identity theft are not uncommon..."

"Women in particular should not be in bars or dangerous areas alone, especially at night..."

"Use caution and realize that communicable diseases such as AIDS, hepatitis B and C, tuberculosis and the Hanta Virus are prevalant in many areas..."

"Avoid crime prone areas, especially at night. Do local research and stay near safe tourist zones. Avoid bars, back alleys, and do not buy drugs..."

"Lock your car when driving, especially at night...."

"Do not leave valuables unlocked either in your car or your hotel room as burglary is a problem. Always use a hotel safe whenever possible..."

"Do not flash large wads of cash or credit cards..."

And the list goes on and on. Scary, right?

What would you say if I told you that the websites from which I gleaned the above warnings were for citizens of Australia, England and New Zealand who were planning travel to the United States? It's true.


I think we Americans are in a little bit of a bubble sometimes when it comes to our perception of the relative safety of the United States.  In the greater Los Angeles area where we live, there were thousands of murders in the last calendar year alone.

Meanwhile, south of the border, for every one Mexican drug dealer murdered, there are hundreds of thousands of Mexican citizens quietly going about their business, taking care of their families and just trying to get through the day as you and I are.

Let me ask you: if a loved one was coming to the U.S. on vacation, what safety advice would you give them?  Would you advise them to avoid dangerous areas, especially at night? To lock their valuables? To not buy drugs or hang out in seedy bars at 2AM? To not flash wads of cash, and be careful and alert when using ATMs?

This common sense advice is just as true in Los Angeles, California as it is in Puerta Vallarta, Mexico or Bogota, Columbia.

My experience is that Mexican people are some of the warmest, gentlest and most welcoming people on the planet.

 Although I haven't traveled there (yet), I'm told that South Pacific Islanders are even MORE so -- a thought which fills me great expectation.

So our plan is to do what we do here in the states: lock our boat, be safe and sane, make smart decisions based on our current surroundings, and realize that most human beings, while certainly flawed, are basically good and don't set out to hurt others. Most people, in my experience, practice the golden rule most of the time.

So, please don't hesitate to come visit us in Mexico. We look forward to welcoming you with a hug and a big "Bienvenidos!"

See The USA...While You Can

About 45 days before Chris and I set sail and leave the US for a good long while. What better time for a good old fashioned American road trip?

                                    We left Green Valley Lake at 0-dark-30 --
    jumped into the car with a full thermos, looked at each other and cried out in unison:

                                                                "TRAVEL DOGS!" 

And off we went.

For the dual reasons that 1) our Explorer has almost 100,000 miles on it, and 2) we are practicing being comfortable in high temperatures, for the fun of it we drove through Vegas and the Mojave Desert without turning on the air conditioning. We did it with the windows down -- old school.


All I'll say about Vegas is -- BREAKING NEWS: Las Vegas now has smog.   :-/

                                          Our first stop was Utah's Zion National Park.

                              As we drove through the gigantic monuments, we didn't speak.

                              I chose Bach for the iPod -- nothing less than sacred would do.

                                              Photos are inadequate when it comes to Zion.

It's simply too grand, too enormous for a mere photo to do it justice. I felt overwhelmed, near tears.


                                                            You must see it for yourself. 

            Next came Bryce Canyon, Arches and Grand Staircase Escalante National Parks.

                           Driving through these areas of Utah brings the sensation that you
                           are in a gigantic natural amusement park created for our pleasure.

                       At every turn it is as if we are entering a new "land" -- Disneyland style


                             One soon loses count at the number of times "Wow" is uttered.
                                          The word becomes banal and meaningless.

The itinerary for Day two of the road trip was the famous I-70 across central Colorado and through the heart of the Rockies. I knew it would be beautiful -- but what I didn't expect is the Colorado River flowing right next to, under and around the highway during much of the drive.

                             We literally crossed over it dozens of times. What a thrill!

                                       Traversing Vail Pass, you could smell the money.

But there's no denying the awesome beauty. You can't blame the world's rich and famous for wanting to hang out there.


We finally reached our destination -- the Littleton area in suburban Denver for my sister Devon's wedding.


While the wedding party rehearsed, my extended family did what all good Americans do when they have a little time on their hands: we went bowling! :-) Although we had a blast (The "Pajama Bottoms" barely beat out "The Cupcakes" in a heated competition), in a macabre twist we discovered that the Fun City Bowling Alley in Littleton is none other than that made famous in Michael Moore's "Bowling for Columbine."

 It was where Eric and Dylan bowled in their Columbine High School first period elective class before going to school and, well, you know the rest.


My sister's fiance Greg grew up in Littleton. I got up the nerve to ask him if he went to Columbine High School. He told me he didn't, but the parents of one of the killers went to his church. He shared that a fissure formed in the church over the fact that the pastor showed compassion for the parents. The pastor left the church due to the controversy, and so did Greg.

The wedding was lovely.

Although there were many old friends I wanted to catch up with at the reception, instead I felt drawn to the dance floor, where my sisters, nieces, step-mom and I danced and danced. For hours. It's been a tough couple of years in my family -- lots of suffering and sadness. And I'm leaving them soon. So the sight of all the girls laughing and dancing with joy -- well, how could I miss out on that?

The peak was all of us dancing, laughing and singing every word by heart together to "Man, I Feel Like A Woman." What can I say -- it's a girl thing, right ladies? ;-)

A California September 11th

10 years ago today Chris and I turned on the TV news as we do every morning at 6AM. A plane had hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center. Without a cloud in the sky, it seemed clear to me that this was not accidental. We continued to watch, silently. We saw the second plane bank, throttle up and plow into the South Tower live, as did millions of others. Shaking, a small scream...

I immediately jumped out of bed. They're flying planes into buildings. Who did I know who might be about to step onto a plane?  I called my baby sister, who answered the phone with a bleary "Hello?" 

"Where's your husband."

"Uh...Cleveland?"

"I'm hanging up. Call him and tell him not to step on a plane."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Just do it. Turn on the TV. Call Fred and tell him not to step on a plane. I'm hanging up."

OK. Powerless. What else can I do? Nothing. I turned to my husband, held his face and whispered: "No matter what happens, we will be OK. We are survivors. We will make it. Together. Come what may." 

Chris went to work and I watched the first tower fall on live TV. I felt for Diane Sawyer and Katie Couric, trying bravely to maintain composure while certainly fearing for their own lives and those of their friends and families on the mortally wounded Isle of Manhattan. 

When the second tower fell, I could take no more and turned off the television to find myself alone in the silence. Unclear what to do, I went to the window and opened the blinds. 2 feet away, a belted kingfisher sat on the fence. He looked right at me and cocked his head, as if to tell me...what? 

Birdwatching has always been such a comfort to me for the simple reason that whatever human crisis I may be going through at that moment, the birds remind me that the world keeps spinning. The sun falls and will rise again. And the birds will go on chirping, singing, and foraging for food. As must we.

At work people brought little TV's and plugged them in at their desks. While we tried to be productive,  we murmured and occasionally gathered round one of the screens and watched quietly.

Starting in the afternoon, fighter jets began circling low over Orange County and the coast every few minutes on patrol, as we have many military bases and defense companies within our borders which were potential targets. This should have been reassuring, but the sound of a jet flying close and low every hour was not exactly a comfort, considering the fact that by that time we had watched the news replay the tape of the jets flying into the buildings over and over throughout the day and into the evening, and of course, noone knew when it would end or where they might attack next. 

That night I had college choir. Throughout the class, those damn jets kept making low passes over the college again and again.

As fortune would have it, the piece we were working on at the time was Haydn's Gloria. The movement we practiced on that night: Kyrie Eleison. Kyrie Eleison roughly translates from the Latin as "God help us." There, on the night of September 11th, 35 frail humans sang "God help us" as one, over and over again.

I've often thought since how grateful I was to be in that place at that time -- singing those humble words as a group prayer, a mantra, a collective plea. No answers. Only silent yearning. 

10 years later, I have little to add except we as humans seem as frail as ever, so on this anniversary I find myself saying Kyrie Eleison. Kyrie Eleison. Kyrie Eleison... 

On Dealing with Homesickness

50 some days and counting until we shove off and sail the Pacific. For a very long time.

I've been thinking about homesickness lately. I haven't been outside of Southern California for more than 3 weeks at a time. Ever. Chris and I have been fortunate to live within an hours drive of our hometown for nearly all of our adult lives. The majority of our family and friends still live in the same area.

To put it bluntly, leaving will be a shock, I think. A traumatic event.

Facebook and Skype will make it easier, no doubt. But still, there's nothing like the warm hug of a loved one -- the way laughter bounces off the walls at the memory of a shared experience.

How will I cope when I start missing you people?  I honestly don't know. That's the scary part.

The truth is, since Chris and I don't have kids of our own, I've spent the last 20 years trying people on for size -- auditioning them for that rare title of "Someone I Would Like To Still Have As A Friend When I'm Living at Leisure World in 30 Years." I see friendships as an investment in my future happiness. Connection is everything to me.

The problem with the sailing/cruising life is every new person I meet -- whether a fellow sailor or a warm Mexican family in Puerta Vallarta that welcomes me into their home and lets me play with their children -- is someone I will need to say goodbye to when we shove off and head to the next port.

Ouch. "Goodbye." That most inconvenient and unwelcome of all words.

I'm going to have to find an uneasy acceptance of the fact that when I say "goodbye" to the amazing people I meet during our travels, chances are good that I will probably never see them again. And that needs to be OK.

 I need to make a subtle yet substantial shift in how I view my relationships with others. Instead of seeing every new person as a potential long term friend, I need to say to myself: "I may only know this person for a little while. What experiences can we share? How can I help this person? What can I learn from them?"

Eastern religions teach us that unhealthy attachment can be a source of much human suffering. They also teach us that we are all connected, and for ultimate happiness and well being we should seek our place in the natural flow of things -- a metaphor which fits nicely into the sailing life. :-)

Seasoned and experienced world travelers already know this. They know that while wistfulness will naturally occur when we say goodbye to someone we have grown attached to, what helps is to realize that at the next destination in our travels, we are destined to make the next connection -- to meet the next good friend that we may never see again.

Yikes. This won't be easy, I can tell.

My plan is this: I won't see our travels as "being away from home." I will instead frame it as exploring our greater home -- our planet. It's ALL home. Which really is true, if you have any knowledge at all of astrophysics. Planet Earth and her 7 very sailable oceans is a teeny-tiny rock in a solar system that is one of countless solar systems in the Milky Way galaxy, which is one of billions of galaxies in the expanse of the universe...

If you compare our future travels with those of astronauts, well, by comparison sailing a couple of oceans is nothing. And anyway, friends and family -- you're all going to come visit us at our exotic locales, right? Right? RIGHT?   ;-)

On Quitting Television

61 days and counting until we toss off the dock lines and head to sea.

We asked our niece Ashley, aged 26 and currently unemployed, if she wanted to become the 3rd crew member of Espiritu on our 2 1/2 year sail. She laughed, shook her head adamantly, and replied with a shrug:

"I love TV too much."

Ah, yes. The television. I've been pondering the fact that not only will we be tossing off the dock lines on November 1st, we will also leave the sattelite dish lashed to the marina pylon. I freely admit that as we sail away from the dock on that day, the pathetic sight of the unplugged dish with its cable dangling limply, shrinking smaller and smaller in the distance, will be almost as painful as the thought of the family and friends we will leave behind.

Although I like to consider myself a reader, maybe even an intellectual, I've never understood those people who refuse to have a TV in the house. You know the types: they protest that all TV is crap and they are far too busy reading, gardening, writing, playing Scrabble, meditating, quiltmaking, writing thank-you notes, cooking and doing yoga to do something as tawdry as watch the tube.

I, on the other hand, have always unabashedly ran to the comfort of the TV. When I was a girl, the first thing we did upon bursting through the front door after school was turn on rerun after rerun of The Flintstones, Gilligan's Island and Bewitched. 

I did go without a TV in the house for one year in nursing school. This was a cold-turkey decision on my part, as unfortunately over the summer I had become hopelessly addicted to the Luke and Laura saga on General Hospital, and I knew that if I wanted to graduate I had to acknowledge my powerlessness to resist daytime drama and Just Say No.

These days, while The Skipper and I do mostly watch alot of astronomy, history and nature programs, we also enjoy The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, sports, and the occasional Seinfeld rerun.

But I'd be lying if I told you that was the whole story. When I get my alone TV time, I confess to imbibing in todays bastard metamorphosis of  the daytime drama:  reality TV. Like a lapsed addict in full relapse mode, I am powerless to fight the lure of The Real Housewives of Orange County, New York and Beverly Hills. Hell, I don't WANT to quit! And anyway, I don't need to stop! I can handle it! I can quit any time!

Sigh.

Hello, my name is Liz and I'm a Housewives-a-holic.

Science and history shows aside, in the cold light of day I'm seeing that the current status of American television is now so tawdry and shameless and simply downright depressing that it won't be hard to drop the remote and just walk away. It will be, in a word, cleansing.

So, bye-bye American TV --  for now, anyway. We were good together for awhile, weren't we? We made a good team. We had it goin' on. I'm leaving you behind, and heading south of the border. We will be catching bits and pieces of  local Mexican TV on our small digital system. I have a feeling there's a new word I'll be hearing alot of in the coming months:

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!"