Anyway, every day, looking out on this view while sipping cup after cup of tea I’ve been dreaming more and more about being on one of these boats. The only boat experience I’ve ever had is being a passenger, and the idea always seemed a bit of an unreachable aspiration as I’ll never want to work so hard to earn enough to hang out with the hoitiest of the toity yachting crowd. So it doesn’t help that my step-dad Jeremy — who I spend a huge amount of time hiking the mountain and generally nattering with — also loves to talk about every conceivable adventure and the people who have tested themselves to the limits in the name of adventure. We’ve also been passing stories of the dreaded “yachty botty” and other sailing lurgies, one where the only two crewmen fell out with each other right at the start of a grueling year-long expedition and didnt speak for the rest of the trip or say goodbye when they disembarked, just stormed off in opposite directions never to see each other again; solo round the world trips and all sorts of exciting things. I hadn’t noticed but for a month these ideas have been creeping in, and then yesterday during a chat it dawned on me FOR THE FIRST TIME that you dont have to be stinking rich to go on a yachting adventure, just laid back, have a flexible lifestyle, and willing to do the grunt work.

WOW! “Cape to Rio!!”, my brain shouted at me. I remember sitting so glum in the dark assembly hall at school in the mornings hearing the headmistress talk about this student, much younger than me, who was given yet more time off school to sail the Cape to Rio with her parents, and other sailing adventures all the time. Of course the school pinned her achievements to their name. She had escaped the drudging pitiful life of poverty and homework that didn’t end till 1am I was lumped with. How I longed to be her and to have her parents!! It turns out I could be me and still do it! So yesterday a huge childhood dream came alive in me again and now I cant sleep because I’m beyond excited! The only thing that can stop me is not being selected for the race, but knowing my ridiculous luck that’s not going to be a problem.

The total length of the race is around 3,600 miles across the Atlantic Ocean. After leaving Cape Town, participants head north-west towards the island of Ilha Trindade, and south-west from there towards South America. As they near the coast, skippers need to decide whether to take the longer route with stronger winds, or a more direct route with the chance for lighter winds.
— wikipedia

Right now my heart is set on doing the next South Atlantic Race / Cape To Rio in 2014, which is just around the corner, but also gives me just the right amount of time to do the various intensive skipper courses at the False Bay School of Yachting, possibly all the way through to Offshore Yacht Master, and volunteer in a few local races so that I can hopefully stand a chance of being selected for the big race. I plan to come out to SA a few times to get as much training in as possible. If the Cape to Rio falls through Im sure I will find something else equally amazing to do, and maybe by the time I have a some experience under my belt I will want to do a totally different race, but I have a feeling that this is the one, and it will be the big start. I have always dreamed of doing a solo world expedition, so this could be just the beginning.

Boy have I missed living by the ocean! I’m so happy out here

Of course I didn’t know this, so I will be wearing one of two very bright colorful dresses, the only things I have that I haven’t dripped olive oil or chocolate on yet.

Happy New Year! I hope 2012 is full of family and long-anticipated travels for everyone!

Another Summer together.

– I was the whitest thing to hit the beaches of Brazil this summer. I am now the reddest.

– they sell condensed milk ice-creams on the beach. You heard that right. Straight up condensed milk. Something I obviously have no power to resist so its not even fair! Condensed milk icelollies together with the completely exposed butt in full midday sun directly from above (and every woman with a sweet-tooth knows what this means) is NOT a winning combination.

– I have about 5 years to find out whatever her incredible secrets are so that I can look roughly the same age as his mom when I’m 40 as she will look at 55. Thiago of course will still look 19. With a beard. Like he always does. His father who I always thought looked incredible for 50 I found out today is 60. Jeez. What the heck? Is it the sun here? Is it the food? Is it a magical plant that I need to eat? I want whatever it is.

– Trying the circuit at the gym behind his mom I realised pretty much immediately, since I could barely move the equipment at her setting, that if I didn’t adjust the weights to about half of what she’s doing, my bones WILL snap.

– It’s impossible to go on a run with her. I have tried and came home limping.

– Olive oil is applied liberally to everything, which is then tossed so that more olive oil can be added, cooked, then olive oil is brought to the dinner table so that everyone can enjoy some food with their olive oil. Thiago applies olive oil directly to my tongue because it’s “yummy!”. Thick slatherings of butter are added to any edges of toast exposed that dont already have cream cheese or something else equally sinful on them. I know better than to pretend I can eat like a Brazilian. Hopefully I never forget!

– Hearing a daughter whine to her father, “but why!?” in Portuguese sounds exactly the same in any language and needs no translation.

– Eating meals with his family is the second funnest part of the day, with intense discussions in loud voices, fists sometimes smashed down on the table, arguments that end in laughter, spoken in two languages back and forth just for me. Lots of hugs and kisses and cuddles shared amongst everyone ALL day long. Its the most belonging and loved I’ve felt anywhere in years.

– These people can cook! some days I eat things that almost make my head explode with happiness.

– Every meal is a grand family affair, with place-settings of layered crockery, cutlery and glassware, prepared all day long and enjoyed for about an hour each sitting.

– And finally, waking up every morning being held by the most gorgeously put together creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on then realising I’m in Brazil… BRAZIL?! The place where he was made… I’m still struggling to get used to this and don’t quite feel like I belong in this dream. What if I cant keep it up? I worry sometimes that I shouldn’t get used to it, that its too good to be true. I worry for at least a second about this every day, but the rest of the time I block it out and realise that everything that has happened in my life, and all this moving around to new places for so many years now has prepared me for precisely this. I’ve decided to fearlessly GO FOR IT!

And just as I’m about to hit publish I was offered a glass of wine. Really? Could life be any tougher?