Helen's Cool List

Saturday, December 31

by guest blogger Helen

On Wednesday, my mother and I went out early to get some provisions at Mega, a large chain grocery store. Mega had almost exactly the same (and, as far as I could tell, same quality) fruits and vegetables as what we found down at the outside market—which is sort of like going to the Pike Place Market and then to Target and finding the same selection. I was invited on this particular shopping trip to increase my mothers’ efficiency, but instead spent most of my time giggling in the aisles, as this kind of store combines two of my favorite things: food fads and language. For instance, I found Galletas Salades, which I initially translated as Salad Cookies. I wondered if this was a cookie made of vegetables or (better) a cookie to go with salad! As it turned out, my translation was just bad. Galleta can also mean biscuit or cracker. As anyone who has been to Mexico surely knows, the most common bread brand is Bimbo. We also discovered that it was near impossible to find unaltered sugar—almost all sugars were “Reducida en calorías” and/or “Adicionada con fibra”. Perhaps this is common in the US too, and I just don’t spend enough time in chain grocery stores. Finally, I found a package of “Facial Quality” toilet paper.

Since I have been benefiting from my parents’ generosity, I offered to help my father out with a few boat repairs. I’m the smallest adult around, so I suggested that perhaps I could help him with something bosun’s chair-related. He was excited and quickly had me replacing zip ties on the SSP antennae attached to the backstay. I thought I was done, but no. He wanted me to go up the mast. I agreed and got harnessed up again. I then discovered that the rides up the mast that I remember from childhood are apparently over. I had to go up there under my own power, using an extremely awkward push-me-pull-you inchworm system. I wasn’t totally thrilled about this but figured it would be worth it to help my dad make important improvements to the boat. Silly me. When I asked what I would be doing up there, he replied, “Oh nothing. Just looking around.” But of course it was worth it when several guys watching from below commented that they would be scared to do what I was doing.

On my first night in the boat, I heard a sound in the night that I interpreted as rain. I thought, “That’s strange. It didn’t seem like rain when I went to bed,” but had forgotten about it by the time I woke up in the morning. The second night, I heard it again and attributed it to normal boat creaking and/or water noises. It sounded like thousands of pop rocks going off in succession. Finally, the following night, Peter inquired about the sounds during a lull in a raucous bridge game. My mother informed him that the noises he heard were snapping shrimp. I was up a few margaritas, and therefore in a gullible state. I waited until the next morning to confirm the story with her. It’s true—snapping shrimp are about 1.5 inch long tropical shrimp designed with one huge claw that snaps shut with such a bang that it can even break glassware. We hear them especially at night.

I am sad to be going back to Brooklyn. My favorite times in Mazatlán have been mornings on the boat, waking up to the gurgling of the coffee maker, and tuning in for the updates from other cruisers on the local Net with my parents. This morning, my coffee is accompanied by a slice of guayaba pie (guava cream pie with pecan crust), my new favorite food.

Feliz Nuevo Año, Helen and everyone!