Of Time, Ink, and Pain

One of the great things about living the life we do now is time. In the last few months Becky and I have found time to do things that either we have always wanted to do or had stopped doing for one reason or another.

Other than the obvious of bettering our sailing, weather forecasting, and navigation skills We are working on our second language, Becky has been working on guitar skills, sewing, working on new cooking skills, cutting and braiding t-shirts, reading (real books) and a few other things. I have been doing the same, I just finished my first non-technical or magazine like book in over 30 years, I am learning to play the harmonica, making a fool of myself trying to learn Spanish, and I started drawing again, something I haven't done since maybe 7th grade (the second time).

One thing I have done is gotten work on tattoos, nothing I have drawn (I'm not good at all) myself but as tattoos usually are, my overall idea and design. The work here in La Paz B.C.S. Has been on my shoulder/chest/back/arm. I have always had thoughts of a shoulder/vest piece and a full back piece. So as we were walking around town one day, we decided to check out tattoo shops. I had done the usual Google search for reviews and only came up with one shop. So as we are walking around we pass a shop with the name Monkey Spunk and Becky says "let's check it out". I said, "there is no way I am getting a tattoo at a place called monkey spunk" and kept walking. We find the other shop and go in to check it out. There is no art on the walls, no books of tattoos and no portfolios. The kid, I say kid because he looked like maybe 19, behind the counter says "hola" and I try out a little Spanish (I think I said something about a toilet and fish) and some redneck sign language. He just looks at me with a smile that says he recognizes my mental development issues and shakes his head. A friend we are with says, "Rob, you don't want someone that can't speak English to do your tattoo". She's right, if you can't communicate that you don't want a fish and toilet tattooed on you, you should find another tattooist.




Becky says she saw books and art at the other place. So off we go to Monkey Spunk Tattoos. We walk in and start talking to the owner, Pete, who is a transplant from the U.S. He is a former Army Ranger and we have chewed a little of the same dirt throughout our careers, so we hit it off right away. I start explaining my idea and he shows us some of his work and Lara gets some work done that afternoon. Pete gives her a ride back to the marina after they're done and we invite him to the boat for a beer. Hours later, he heads home and we've made plans for me to get started the next day. Pete is a light hand and a great tattooist (he doesn't like to be called an artist) and, over days of tattooing me, Pete and is girlfriend have become friends of ours and have shown us some of the sights of La Paz too.

As for the tattoo, i have always wanted a face tattoo in the tradition of the Warriors of New Zealand and native American Indian. Just kidding, for second y'all thought I would actually get a face tattoo didn't you? Really, I wanted it on my back, shoulder, chest, and arm and to go with my tattoo that "Apache" Jill did a few years ago in Reno. When he found out Jill did that one, he backs up and says, "I'm not touching that, she'll kill me". He apparently knows Jill, she would kill both of us and I wouldn't let anybody touch it other than her. We worked out how to work around it and where else I wanted it and he gets started on my shoulder. Ok, it hurts a bit and every now and them you feel a nerve twitch, I'm good to go.



Now for the back, I'm thinking this'll hurt a bit more but I'm good. WOW, the back is painful, mostly near the spine, alright, I can handle this (by the way, if you know me you know I'm a pussy). Next comes the chest, it going to be worse than the back but less work, I can do this. HOLY SHIT!! It's only on one side and only hurt near the sternum, on the outside near the armpit, on the top and around the nipple. DAMN, around the nipple, I will never get anything on the other side now! To describe the pain the best thing I could come up with follow: go grab a vibrating sander from the tool shed, weld on some vice grips and attach an ice pick in line with the vice grips. Clamp the vice grips to your left nipple so that the ice pick only penetrates the skin about a 16th of and inch. Now get your friend, girlfriend, wife, boyfriend, husband, partner whatever, or as I did, a stranger, to turn on the the sander, and no matter what you do, they don't stop. Then it shuts off, it's over...click, buzz, it's on again and you are trying to not hit the damn ceiling...click, ok now we're doooooonnnnnnne...click, buzz, "NO WAIT", buzzzzz, "DAMN IT". This went on for what seemed like a couple hours but was only a few minutes and at one point hurt so bad and tickled at the same time. Now Pete is a light hand and gave me constant encouragement saying "it'll be alright", "how you doing", and "we'll be done soon". Mind you, he was not saying this in a don't worry, you can do it sort of way. More like two military dudes calling each other pussy or chicken while about to do something stupid. Like when you were a kid trying to talk your friend into jumping from the railroad tracks into the shallow creek below, between two rocks while he's on fire. The sort of razzing I think only guys get. You get the picture, right? By the way, this description of the ultimate pain is not for any of you mothers out there, it would be nothing for y'all after child birth (I know, you are reading this thinking to yourself "EXACTLY!!").




So you may be asking yourself, so why would you volunteer to put yourself through that? For you with tattoos, you probably get it, for the others, tattoos are art, representations of ones self, the things they hold deer, feelings emotions, memories, a way to honor others, or any other personal reason the wearer chooses. The pain is worth it what it means to me and is a small personal trial. One thing to remember about tattoos, they are not art that hangs on museum walls forever, or in a book in the library of congress, they are personal pieces, that only last so long and die with person that wears them.




If you have ever wanted a tattoo, go for it, it's worth it if it's for the right reason. Those that "get it", get it and those that don't, most likely will never understand the meaning of time, ink, and pain.

Sitting on Corners

Sitting On a Corner, La Paz B.C.S.

During our stay here in La Paz, we have had the pleasure of meeting quite a few interesting people. We have met locals, other cruisers from all over the world, transplants, ex patriots, tattooist (more on that later), bartenders, transvestites, a former attorney from Carson City, artists, musicians, crafts people, surfers, crackheads, etc. almost all were interesting people and have interesting lives while living here, traveling, working or looking for their next adventure. As we don't like doing much of the touristy things, we have made friends with locals and other cruisers that have showed us the local life. Our Spanish is getting better and helps with seeing the local sites and just getting by.

Things here, although much slower paced, are not much different at least in the bigger picture, but quite different when you start seeing the details. We both love people watching and if you are observant enough and are lucky enough to have locals to ask, you can learn amazing things that I don't think the average tourist traveler does.







We took the time, and we have a lot of it, to just sit on a corner, outside of a small shop selling drinks and munchies. What we have seen is this, drivers are rather polite, in spite of never coming to full stops at alto signs, and will stop in the middle of the street to let you "j-walk". They do liberally use their horns but for warnings more than in anger. What they don't do well is park. I mean holy shit, every bumper is dented in this entire country. We have watched them park cars by tapping the one behind, I think to gauge distance from the one in front, tap the one in front, then nuzzle bumper to bumper again with the car behind them, get out to look and as long as neither bumper has fallen off, shrug their shoulders and lock up the car and head off. Other things, they still have full-service gas stations, techno/disco/club music coming out of a small mom and pop shop, loudly at 10 AM is normal advertisement, 10 AM is about the normal opening time, if they're going to open that day.

One interesting thing Becky noticed is (without sounding mean here) that they all look alike. She's right, the diversity, or lack there of, in Mexico is not what we are used to. Although this explains a few things on how we are looked at or treated, it does start to make other things noticeable. Although some 98% (I'm making that up) are brown skin and black hair, there are differences that we have noticed and asked about. The Indian population is probably the most noticeable (my opinion) because they look slightly different and carry themselves and dress differently. They seam to be "second class citizens" working the most menial jobs or as street vendors sailing the trinkets to tourists. They are smaller in stature and wear clothes with a tradition flare. It has been interesting to just sit back and watch how locals interact with them. There is certainly economic diversity that, I think, is a large dividing line, but not the biggest.

Amongst men, the big dividing line is perceived importance, weather by the type of job, the clothes that are worn, or by how pretty their wife is, it's all about machismo. For the women it seems much more subtle and based on the husbands place and the clothes the woman wears. This is a VERY male society, in public anyway. I think it's not so much at home.

Some small things we have learned are that the elderly baggers at the mercado (store), for the most part, have no pension or social security and are not employees but bag groceries for tips only. Taxi drivers are some of the nicest people here. Locals do not like Americans to ask for a English speaking person and love it when you try out your Spanish. They just look at you and smile when say "couch I small Spanish" and then try out some sort of international non-regular redneck sign language. I just know they think I'm the funniest gringo around and maybe take pity on me because they think I'm mentally challenged. But just so you know, the sign language works some of the time.

All that being said, so far, we have had a great time and have learned a lot, mostly about ourselves. This is usually, metaphorically done by looking in a mirror. We like to do it while sitting on a corner.

Crossing the Sea of Cortez

We left La Paz finally, we can see why people get there and decide to stay, and headed across the Sea of Cortez to Mazatlan and tropical environments. Along the way we had some good sailing weather and clam seas. Although a little weird seas, from the southwesterly as opposed to northwesterly. But again, wildlife was everywhere, humpbacks, sea turtles, and dolphins. Becky got this great shot while 2 dolphins were jumping around and splashing water on the bow.













We arrived at Mazatlan early in the morning in some tropical fog and waited offshore for it to burn off a little. We had decided to anchor just southeast of the main harbor but couldn't due to the southerly swell, so anchored just inside the harbor at Club Nautico. We're glad we did, it's closer to old Mazatlan so grocery runs are only a 3 mile or so walk.

Old historic Mazatlan has a coastal European feel to it with its small shops and art district.

We met a 74 year old aussy named John, he gave us the Intel on the area and walked into town with us, we had coffee and breakfast, he pointed us towards the best local market we have been to yet. This was not a "super mercado" but an open air market type with butchers, fresh fish, produce, trinkets, clothes, etc. Becky loved it and picked out some veggies, a cut of beef, and some chicken while we explored the market.

We also took a few minutes to check out the cathedral. We've seen pictures and read about its history, so we had to see it and get some pictures.



















Next we are going to try to anchor off Isla Isabela, a wildlife preserve that Jacques Cousteau once went to, and the best part...it has boobies! Ok, the birds, blue footed boobies, brown boobies, and tons of others. Then on to San Blas.