Message in a bottle…

So here we are , anchored down in the bay of Deshaies – Déhé – ,  Guadeloupe and nowhere else to go. This weekend friends were supposed to join us for an exotic week of celebrating life together. Instead, they are prancing around in their brand new swimming gear in front of their Belgian bathroom mirror and checking out their underwater camera in the tub.

We ourselves are corona castaways like everybody else. But we do have fishing pelicans and surfacing turtles for company and lengthy conversations  with our friend Coco.   

Only a fortnight ago, we were still joyfully island hopping in blissful ignorance of what was about to come down. I confess: at times my body reminded me of my age, but I chose to ignore its nagging and its petty aches. I very successfully bribed it back into submission by gently laying it down on golden shores or by floating it quietly among the fishies and corral heads or by feeding it “pintade sauce au chocolat” or grilled lobster carefully prepared by the locals. 

Speaking of the locals, they are absolutely amazing. Everywhere we went we were  greeted with gentle smiles, helpful information and general mellowness. And they don’t begrudge us our fancy O2 either: even this morning the fishermen waved and shouted friendly greetings as they motored out in their small boats to cast their nets right in front of us. We don’t understand the technique they use of throwing leaf like stuff into the water before casting the net, but it sure is a spectacle to behold.  Two guys get out of the boat to trash the water with a diving fin in order to round up the fish into the net while the pelicans are lining up for an easy treat and a few frigate birds scoop up the fish as they start to glitter by the dozens onto the surface of the water. 

Although their ancestors were stolen from Africa, the locals do not pile the sins of our fathers on our Western privileged heads. And those sins were hideous enough. One of the audio books that we listened to during our transatlantic passage was the classic Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Published in 1852 we were amazed by the modern insights it offered into religion, politics and economy . We all know that the western “golden age” was built with gold stolen from the Aztecs and with the blood, sweat and tears of millions of Africans. But to hear it so well explained as we were following that same Atlantic “trade” route was quite sobering. Through the horrific story of Uncle Tom, we  learned about an “economic” system of slave “breeding farms” – when the slave trade itself was already forbidden – and about slave “speculation” – ” financial speculation” as in buying babies cheap to sell them off with a profit as adolescents.  In this gruesome light, the Caribbean islands are living proof of human resilience. And we are very disappointed that COVID19 is now making it impossible to visit the Memorial Acte Slavery Museum in Point à Pitre which was inaugurated in 2015 and which is no less than our duty to go to because “la mémoire inspire l’avenir”. We won’t be able to do so.

Guadeloupe is now in total lockdown and all Caribbean islands are closing their borders one by one, until further notice.  So much for our Wanderlust. 

So we are back to sedentary life: cleaning ship, reading books, using the Kindle in turns, cooking comfort food, texting and facetiming with family & friends,  worrying about family & friends, home office for my Captain, watching pelicans dive for fish and sea turtles coming up for air, waving at fishermen and other stranded yachties, and ……daily  checking our body temperature. 

As a yachtie, you have to register your arrival and departure with each new island/country you visit at an official “Port of Entry”. And as long as you haven’t been properly registered with customs & immigration, you have to fly the yellow Q flag, acknowledging the fact that the correct papers and necessary administration are still work in progress.

Actually, Q stands for quarantine and in the old days, this was to be taken literally:  ships flying the yellow quarantine flag had a contagious disease on board and warned everybody about the need for  “social distancing”. Due to corona, quarantine is all of a sudden a hot topic again: we will probably have to self-isolate  for 14 days when borders open up again, before being allowed to go ashore and many authorities will want to see the log of our daily body temperatures as well.

But so far so good : 36,6° in the armpit, 36,9° under the tongue and the 3^rd method we don’t fancy much. 

Keep safe everybody ! No hugs and kisses for the time being but this message in a bottle is meant for all of you. With love from France d’outre-mer.