Ceilydh Set Sail

May 7, 2011

One Week in Polynesia

I woke this morning and realized not only are we in French Polynesia but we’ve been here for a week. Actually, it was the moment after I walked out into the cockpit, admired the mist on the mountains, and then picked a banana from a bunch we have hanging outside that I realized we are really here.

It’s a realization that hits regularly. We had a bunch of the boats over for Cinco de Mayo (on, err, May 5) and just about everyone made the comment, “We are in the Marquesas!” And then when we go for our daily walks or hikes (Barb and I have walked in the am when there is no big hike planned) at some point someone will do something remarkable—like notice an avocado tree, or discover a tiki hidden in the jungle—that we’ll become aware of where we are all over again.

This sense of happy discovery is a good thing—because we’re not yet any closer to owning a rudder. We got one (utterly outrageous) quote from a French Polynesian shipyard (our first true case of sticker shock…) so we’re casting the rudder net a bit wider.

As far as sticker shock goes, while it is expensive here, we felt well prepared (the files section at the Pacific Puddle Jump group had excellent cost comparison spreadsheets) and we stocked up ahead of time on the costly stuff and are only replenishing with the affordable options (dairy, lamb, baguettes, some tinned goods). We’re finding fruit ranges from free to medium expensive and the fresh veggies that we do find (mainly tomatoes, green beans, lettuce, cucumber, onions and potatoes) are about double what we paid in Mexico.

May 4, 2011

A Sailor’s Tattoo

It stings a bit but I take a deep breath, unclench my teeth and focus on the music. A well-tattooed Marquesan artist named Mahekua looks up and catches my eye. “Ok?” he asks in Marquesan (at least that’s what I think he asked…). “Perfect,” I tell him. But I can’t help but wonder what the needle will feel like if the pen he is sketching out the design with is already making me sweat.

Since Captain James Cook arrived in the Marquesas in 1774, sailors have been getting tattoos. And while I know they’ve grown into the hip thing to do—I’m still doing mine for the traditional reasons: I sailed over a big bloody ocean, crossed the equator, and ended up somewhere cool. A place where they used to eat people (after storing them by hanging them in a tree, then bashing their brains out when it was time for dinner, or so Maia tells me).

Tattoos have been an important part of Marquesan culture for as far back as their oral history goes. Boys got their first ones when they became teenagers—and with each stage in life and each accomplishment more tattoos were added. Women were also tattooed—but not to the same degree.

I was worried about being a tourist and getting a traditional Marquesan tattoo—wondering if it was a form of cultural appropriation. So I asked Mahekua how traditional Marquesans feel about ‘sharing’ their ancient symbols. He explained that because the designs and motifs are different for everyone, and each tattoo tells an individual story, it was okay—the tattoos are a gift from the islands.

He showed how on mine there is a symbol that tells Marquesan people that I came in peace and with love, and another that says I want to share their bananas (there is a chance I misunderstood this bit…), and how another says I am traveling a long distance.

And then it was time to start. I’m not sure if it was the rhythms of the music he played (harmonies from the church) or his relaxed attitude—but the actual tattooing seemed less painful than the pen had. He worked quickly, drawing straight lines over my curved flesh (faster than I could draw on paper)--singing as he filled in the old symbols with black ink. Now and then he would stop to ask me a question, or alter a drawing. And then we were done.

My story now winds itself around my ankle—showing the world I’ve sailed a long way and that I have many more miles to go. And that I’d like to share some bananas.

“Did he use a hollow comb tipped with watered-down fruit ash and then pound in the colour with a little mallet?” Maia asked me when I got home to the boat.

May 3, 2011

Eating Like the Locals

The last of our Mexican produce is running out—we still have cabbage, carrots, onions, potatoes and apples (and even one tomato) but anything green and leafy is long gone.

Green and leafy isn’t a huge part of the culture here but for about $4.50 each I’ve been buying huge lovely lettuce, and $2.50 got me a big bunch of long green beans. The true bounty here though is the fruit.

mangos

We can buy breadfruit, bananas, pamplemousse and mangoes--but the traditional way to get them is to forage in the jungle and collect them ourselves (or get gifted them). There really is nothing quite like eating a starfruit fresh from the tree (once you’ve knocked the ants off), or trying to figure out how to get that breadfruit, right there.

just one variety of breadfruit

manioc and roasted breadfruit

Breadfruit, for the uninitiated, is starchy like a potato, but slightly nutty in flavour. It can be eaten raw, or fermented, or roasted, or mashed, or dried and used as flour. And the leaves are used for cooking while the sticky latex sap was used to caulk canoes. My favourite way to eat it is to bake it like French fries—brushes with oil and dusted with spices then baked at 400 for 30 minutes it comes out crispy with a soft centre and makes a great side dish. I’m guessing with gravy and cheese I could call it Marquesan poutine.

May 1, 2011

Archaeological Adventures

What happens when an agnostic an atheist and a Jew go to church? They get the time wrong and miss mass…

Our group of five puddle jumping boats set off this morning with the plan of going to mass and hearing the wonderful Polynesian harmonies that the congregation here is known for, but we arrived about 10 minutes after the service ended. Which meant it was time for a plan ‘b’.

Ruins anyone?

cultural tradition is alive and well here--Marquesan man on the streets of Taiohae

The Marquesas is thought to be one of the first island groups that were colonized during the Pacific Migration. Estimates vary—but the consensus seems to be it was first settled sometime from 300-600 AD by a people who grew into one of the more unique cultures in Polynesia. They also built a whole bunch of stone stuff—tikis (sacred statues), wide tohuas (meeting places), pae pae (house foundations) and various pits and platforms. All which are found in the jungles throughout the islands.

We decided to visit a waterfront site—which turned out to be built in 1989—so then we opted to head to a second site that is found deeper in the mountains behind town.

‘Tohua Kouvea was a communal gathering place that once belonged to the great war chief, Pakoko’, Barb from WGD read as we meandered out of town. Along the way we were each distracted by different things: fruit, flowers, roadside pigs and the like, and after what seemed like a very long time we found ourselves at a lovely viewpoint high above the boats, but without a tiki in sight.

I told Barb that I thought we might have missed some detail in the directions she had. So we read back through and caught the bit about needing to leave the main road after 1km. So we back-tracked and eventually asked a man on a horse for help. Technically a group of people who got themselves across an ocean should be able to find ruins they have directions for (and get to church on time) but we were all pleased with our guide. And Roo Touhine led us deeper into the jungle with calls of encouragement spoken in Marquesan.

Eventually we arrived at a long stone wall and Roo pointed our way in. As I wandered and explored I tried to imagine the culture that inhabited this peaceful space. With its soaring Banyon trees and wide lawns it had a mystical feel. Too soon though our water ran out and the bugs overwhelmed us. So we started back--tired, hungry and thirsty but well pleased with ourselves.

Along the way we foraged—finding tart/sweet starfruit to keep us going. Then we encountered Roo collecting his own fruit. He served us pamplemouse—then he gave us a huge stalk of bananas to share.

I’m not sure if there is a point to this story—but I can say being late for church and then getting lost on a hike with a group of sailors who just crossed the South Pacific was a pleasant thing. Perhaps a journey like ours gives perspective. Our maybe we’re all just so grateful to be here that going astray in a steamy jungle, with no food, and limited water while dressed in our Sunday best simply doesn't make the cut for stuff to worry about.

April 30, 2011

First Impressions of Nuka Hiva

But first, some thank-yous: Journeying across an ocean is one of the most lusciously solitary pursuits I’ve ever experienced. But it’s anything but lonely and we were never really alone. First off we were part of an amazing fleet of boats, which was glued together by two daily SSB nets (and most amazingly we all made landfall within 24hrs of each other).

Then there were the legions of friends and family who sent weather updates, inspirational quotes (and prayers!), gossip, news, encouragement and some really terrible jokes. There were also the officials in French Polynesia who offered us any assistance they could when we lost our rudder. Then there are all our readers, so many of you! And from so many amazing places… Many of you we’ve never met but we hope you will start to say hello to us in the comments and come meet us if we are in your homeland.

So, thank-you. You all made our trip richer.

Four of the boats that crossed together (including us)

We’ve been in Nuka Hiva for a day and a half and not wandered off the main road yet. But my impressions are of flowers, and fruit, and friendly smiles. And mud, and waterfalls, and a lush humid greenness. In the days to come we’ll share what we learn about the culture and the landscape, but for now we are simply looking around and drinking it all in