Hi there. It's Danielle again with the first part of my travel report. Hope you enjoy it!
Monday April 10, 2006
It all began with the steak.
When Nathan and I started planning our trip down to Gustie, one of the first things we asked my parents was, "What can we bring for you guys from St. Paul?" We were expecting an answer like magazines or peanut butter. You know, something light and easy to transport. We weren't so lucky. The first think my father said was, "Steaks from Morelli's!"
If you're from the Twin Cities and haven't been to Morelli's, what the heck are you waiting for? Get in your car and go NOW. Just make sure you bring cash, because they don't believe in credit cards. Morelli's is an Italian butcher shop/liquor store/specialty foods store, at 535 Tedesco Street, in St. Paul (located at just the point where downtown St. Paul becomes the East Side). Not only do they have a great wine selection and amazing frozen homemade lasagne, but the meat is incredible. It's totally fell-off-the-truck Mafia meat. I never much enjoyed steak until I had a Morelli's porterhouse. Now I understand what steak is all about.
So, Nathan and I went to Morelli's before the trip, bought 2 porterhouses and 2 t-bones, froze them and transported them in Nathan's suitcase in an insulated bag with frozen gel packs. Piece of cake. Or beef, as it were. Before we left, we asked my dad if it would be a problem to bring steak into the U.S. Virgin Islands. "Of course not!" he boomed. "It's still the UNITED STATES! Sailors do this all the time!"
On Monday afternoon, we finally landed in St. Thomas after an interminable flight that included a stop in St. Martin/St. Maarten to let most of the passengers off. I have to say that landing and taking off from tiny islands is pretty frightening to a nervous flyer like myself. Especially when we took off from St. Martin and there was a MOUNTAIN at the end of the runway. Gulp. But we survived.
At the St. Thomas airport we had to go through U.S. Customs and Immigration because our flight had landed in another country, even though we hadn't been allowed off the plane. At the Customs table, the officer asked us if we had any food products. Nathan, being the honest, upstanding guy he is, admitted to carrying steak. She asked to see it, so he hauled out the insulated bag. "We can't let this in," she said. We asked why, picturing $50 worth of steak being tossed away. Or even worse, Nathan being taken back and given the smuggler's strip search. "It doesn't have supermarket labeling on it. I can't tell where it's from. It could be from anywhere in the world." I pleaded our case, telling her we hadn't even stepped off the plane in St. Martin, we were visiting my parents on their boat and that the steak was from a little butcher shop in St. Paul. I must have seemed especially honest or pathetic because she finally said, "Okay, I'll let it go this time, but next time you NEED supermarket labeling on the steak." Yeah, right, like we'd bring Cub Foods or Rainbow steak all the way down to the islands.
But still, WHEW!
We caught a cab to Crown Bay Marina, so excited we were both wiggling in our seats. It seemed gloriously warm and sunny to us after a week of mostly rain in St. Paul. When we arrived, we called the parents on my cell phone and they came right over and...
HOLY CRAP, ARE THEY TAN!
George Hamilton wishes he could be as tan as my mom. And my dad isn't far behind. They almost radioactively glow. They looked fabulous and it was even better to see them after so long.
We hauled our 6,000 pounds of luggage (the snorkeling gear we brought took up nearly one whole bag) to Gustie and finally laid our eyes on her. She's gorgeous, simply gorgeous. I love her navy blue hull and her lines. She's not a sleek sailboat, but a rounder, fuller-figured one that makes you feel very secure about her seaworthiness. I can see why my parents fell for her.
We got the royal tour. The interior was much smaller than I'd ever imagined, but everything had its place and it was very efficiently laid out. The fore cabin, where Nathan and I would be sleeping had a v-berth (where we each have a bunk that is separate but they come together at the feet) with another bunk above one side of the berth where we ended up storing most of our belongings. We liked it right away, even after my mom showed us the manual pump toilet (go to the bathroom, pump 6 times, move a switch to the left and pump 12 more times, move the switch back to the right and pump 6 more times) and warned us about using too much toilet paper.
We were just into our first beers and enjoying our Puerto Rican neighbor's salsa music when Nate called. He was here! None of us had seen Nate since Christmas so it was a very happy reunion. There were more beers and tours and exclamations of joy. I think there might have been gin and tonics in there, too. If I haven't said it before, my dad makes KILLER G&Ts. Eventually we had delicious chicken dijon that my mom made and I later had to re-learn how to wash dishes by hand.
Exhausted from travel, we all ended up in bed rather early. Instead of sleeping on the lower settee (which converts into a bed), Nate decided to sleep up on the deck on one of the cushions. I was rather envious of this, I have to say. It looked really peaceful, except the loud music coming from other boats. Nathan and I had our first experience sleeping in our cabin. The v-berth was comfy but poor Nathan had to sleep in the bunk that had the other bunk over it, which left very little room. You definitely couldn't sit up without whacking your head. I found it pretty claustrophobic. Nathan found it pretty hot. We ended up affectionately referring to that space as "The Box." But we did end up sleeping after all, excited to finally get sailing the next morning.