Return to Utila

After five plus months away, we returned to our Vida Tranquila on Utila. In the meantime, we endured a Northeastern winter that witheld the worst of its punches, a hockey season, my Dad's heart surgery and a health scare with Hayden, which ended with a relatively seamless open-septo-sino-rhinoplasty at the Childrens Hospital of Philadelphia. Needless to say, we were all breathing easier when we met up with Captain David in La Ceiba Immigration and he said to the kids, "Would you like to see your daddy?" We were delighted to be reunited as a family, flying over the skinny strip of sea back to Utila.

Flying over from the mainland

We fell back into our old patterns easily. Piper and Bine had the cinematic reunion her mother and I have been anticipating, complete with momentary hesitation, full-on crushing hug, and then a thirty hour playdate. These two little alphas had one terse conversation about which one said the shells hurt her feet en route to the 'dream lot', and then quickly lapsed into a game of fairies on the porch.

Piper and Bine arrange the fairies 

 I am fairly certain the only time they weren't holding hands was during their momentary spat and maybe during dinner. They dined a deux on chicken and waffles at Neptunes, chased the solar lights J installed on the dock, and I may owe an apology to Bine's mother for introducing her to the beingets with Nutella--sweet Bine picked up the plate and LICKED.IT.CLEAN. 

Piper and Bine to the marina

Same old, same old

The reunion of Piper and Bine was only rivaled by the one of the kids and Amigo, the resident mascot and surrogate perro negro for the Hoffspring. After worrying for days about whether their dog would remember them (the jury is out in my opinion--he might be this glad to see everyone) they had a love fest in the marina. They have come up with a game of chase and fetch on the beach with their darling dog that I don't think any of them will tire of soon. 

                                                                                                                                                                        It is amazing also to see the changes in Lobster, the project's other dog. Abused as a puppy and rescued to become part of the crew out on the South Shore, (and the Frick to Amigo's Frack) Lobster used to be too skittish to be touched. Now, he patrols proudly with the watchmen and is eager to have our loving attention.

As before, and much to the boys' chagrin, regular Spanish tutoring is on the agenda. Piper will also be attending a bilingual school called Widsom Paradise with her friends in Town. 

WHAT'S NEW

Neptune's RestaurantNeptune's! The former construction zone where the boys used to dash around playing tag has become an upscale restaurant. Neptune's at Coral Beach Village is an important part of the development we are here to create, complete with sandy beach, dock and marina, hammocks, palapa, volleyball and beach games and music. 

Piper doing some sunset swinging

We used to draw parallels between our life here and Little House on the Prairie. Now it's more like Swiss Family Robinson with an open tab at the tiki bar down the beach. Piper's sole vegetable consumption in the past week has been their hand-cut French fries and she has ketchup running through her veins. I am also in conversation with Jenny and Will and Brian about what we will be saying is "off the menu" when the little Hoffmans belly up to the bar (and by this I mean, the mac and cheese with the breaded topping Hayden can't get enough of, or the green bottled ginger ales Max and Camilo had me thinking were Salva Vidas complete with mock-stumbling on the beach.) 

wing man

Their habanero and pineapple margaritas are to die for, the boys are crazy for their Buffalo wings and I felt a tiny tear in my eye when I saw a special on their menu of a caprese sandwich this week. Cheese and fresh, locally grown tomato and spicy tequila at sunset on the beach, and I just might be in heaven. 

Because of Coral Beach Village's status as an eco resort, Neptune's only purchases fresh sustainable fish from local fisherman or the coast, and we cooperate with local law enforcement to put an end to reef poaching, because the true richness of this location is in the water out front.  

To the end of enjoying the ocean, we are also loving the newly installed ladder at the end of the dock, which facilitates the ease of everyone being able to get in and explore the reef. We continue to do our daily snorkel, finding everything from an enormous horse conch to spotted eagle rays to the most delicately patterned flamingo tongue shells. 

Max uses the ladder to show off a horse conch

One week in -- we are excited to be back, reunited as a family and enjoying our Vida Tranquila again!

cruising for whale sharksBeach bonfire before bed

Every day I hate yoga a little less...

A confession: up until yesterday, I could not touch my toes. I first realized this in the presidential physical fitness challenge, fifth grade. I couldn't even come close. On a good day, I can graze about halfway down my shins. I blame this on genetics--my family of origin, with a few exceptions, are woefully uncoordinated and inflexible--and eighteen years of regular running ratcheting my hamstrings.

Yoga Utila--sunset practiceBecause of this humiliating fact, prior to our move to Utila this past summer, I have only dabbled in yoga at eight waddling months pregnant, where any inability to reach my toes could be blamed on the human being slung around my midsection. I used inversion (headstanding) to successfully turn Max, who was breech, and the meditation time to dream about the little person I would soon meet.

Still, after the babies, with no excuse for my lack of flexibility, and the baby weight to lose, I popped the kids in the stroller and returned to running. In my late teens, I'd found this, a solitary athletic pursuit where you are your own goal setter and the only person who views your shortcomings, when you break stride going up a rough hill, is yourself.  (You can read more about my relationship with running here.)

This past August, we packed up the family and moved to the South Shore of Utila, where my husband warned running might be limited by terrain, bloodthirsty bugs, island dogs and water boundaries. He suggested this was the place to try something new--with the wide ocean just steps from our front door and our new neighbor Andi had recently started a yoga studio. Yoga Utila is a grassroots organization that welcomes visiting instructors, provides discounts to Honduran locals, and donates to those in need--providing hardship families with things like electricity and medical care, and feeding and sponsoring homeless dogs. It felt like something I wanted to support. With some trepidation, I bought a mat at Five Below in the States, and threw it in my bag.

I gritted my teeth through my first few weeks of classes. The kids were with a Spanish tutor in the mornings on the South Shore so I was using the time to ride into Town by boat, write and exercise. My first class was Ashtanga, fifty percent English and Spanish, one hundred percent misery. I hated nothing like I hated downward dog--a cruel hamstring torture and humiliating arch exposure. Until you have walked through the gritty streets of Utila Town in flip flops, you have never been so self-conscious about flashing the dirty soles-that-should-be-touching-the-mat to the yogis behind you. Who, I might add, are all doing it right, like they know what's coming next, like they have done this hundreds of times. I was not listening to my breath or quieting my thoughts. I was wondering what was the difference between foreward fold and half-lift--other than that in neither of them was I anywhere near as sandwiched as I should be? And how many times were we going to keep doing these same poses--and what the hell is the difference between chataranga and a push-up?

Kids Yoga on Coco's Dock over the oceanI only went back to be polite to Andi, who was giving me rides into town, because I wanted to like it, and because it was there. When in Rome...

I tried Anusara, intro to yoga, gentle yoga and Ashtanga again. The only part I looked forward to (other than the lolling around and the little lavender pillows over the eyes at the end) was the fact that it took place on the outdoor dock of Coco's bar over the ocean and in tree pose (which I actually didn't suck at) I could enjoy looking out to the lighthouse on the reef as my drishti. And every time Andi said in the opening, "You are here, practicing yoga on a dock over the ocean in the Caribbean. Welcome the sights and sounds of the sea and the community to be a part of your practice," I realized just how lucky I was. The trouble with yoga was not the instructors or the inspiritaional location; it was me.

I still sort of hated it, even as a month passed and I realized I was improving in the tiniest of increments. It was a surprise one day when I went to a beginner's class and felt that it was too slow, too easy. Over time, my heels inched a little closer to the mat, while I cursed through my clenched teeth in downward dog. My mantra was a very un-yoga:  I hate this I hate this I hate this--peppered with expletives.

Plus, to be honest, it didn't feel like a sport. Yoga didn't give me the same rush or sense of accomplishment as running, not that I was finding much of that in my ten-minute-mile stumbly, stunted jaunts runs back and forth on the South Shore, carefully watching every placement of my feet on the uneven terrain.

I confessed my true feelings for yoga one afternoon to a group of full-on converts.

"Why do you hate yoga?" A friend's husband asked contemplatively in his lovely Norwegian accent while we sipped coffee on his porch looking out over the sea. 

"Because," I sputtered, "because I'm so bad at it!"

"But... you cannot be bad at yoga. You can only be new to the practice."

Hrmph.

And then Yoga Utila moved all but their sunset classes to a real studio space over the supermercado, andKim, center, sunset yoga three visiting instructors came to the island, which is how I ended up on a steamy Monday morning in a freshly-painted studio in an Ashtanga class with Kim Johnson from Kansas City. Because the purpose of Ashtanga is to heat your body from the inside, sweating is encouraged. No air conditioning, no fans, on a ninety-degree, humid day in the Caribbean. Kim, a former fitness competitor led the class like an athletic exercise--fast, hard, challenging, a pose for every inhale and exhale. I didn't have time to generate my loathing for down dog, because I was jumping through to triangle! It was pure exhilaration.

I have never sweat like that in my life. Not in summer field hockey camp, not in labor, not in my longest runs in Grand Cayman. Sweat ran down my arms to pool on my mat, stung my eyes and snaked up inside my nostrils while in headstand. The class went long, almost two hours, and I left feeling completely high. My experience was enhanced by having slept over at Andi's the night before where she talked me through a history of yoga/primer--complete with print-out visual aids. Going into this transformative class, I had the basic knowledge that for every bending movement, there would be an extension; so this was the difference between forward fold and half-lift! 

Since then, I admit that every day, I hate yoga a little less. Kim and I have talked about how I can continue to do both yoga and running, depending on what I need, and yoga will help my running, (but running won't help my yoga). On my last class with her before she returns to the States, we all dashed through a rainy season deluge, starting out as soaked as I usually end my classes with Kim. For the first time in our opening downward dog, I felt something I had been anticipating--the soles of my wet feet, my heels, kissing the floor.

Afterwards, as we said goodbye, Kim pointed out the improvement that has come with continued practice, the ways yoga is changing my body, and my demeanor.

"Well, yes, but I still can't touch my toes." And as I went to show her, I realized I could. 

* *** *

 Huge thanks to Andi Ryon, for founding Yoga Utila and leading inspiring classes, to Aura for my introduction to Ashtanga, to visiting instructors Rachel and Amber for welcoming me and the boys into your classes and to Kim, for truly beginning the transformation. 

La Vida Tranquila -- Pint-Sized Tour Guide

I've never been a good napper. When I lived in Tarifa as a single woman, I spent the siesta hours of the afternoon taking long walks with my faithful dog and a Nikon. Peeking through arched white-washed doorways in this Spanish town with 13th century roots and heavy Moorish influence, I assembled a photo essay called Las Puertas Antiguas de Tarifa. I was thinking today that if I ever put together a photo essay of Utila, my common theme could be La parte posterior de las cabezas Bine y Piper since I spend much of my time in Utila following these two around. It's a pretty good gig.

The Backs of Bine and Piper's Heads 1

The Backs of Bine and Piper's Heads 2

The Backs of Bine and Piper's Heads 3

The Backs of Bine and Piper's Heads 4

Bine (pron. BEE-nuh) is Piper's dearest friend here. Her parents run FLOAT UTILA, the world's largest float tank (designed and built by Bine's Dad). They have one of the best love stories I have ever heard and I could spend hours sipping coffee and chatting with her mom while our kids play cheerfully.

Bine is a creative, curly-haired girl with a whimsical spirit and such a transparent, honest streak she often floors me with her direct imperatives and observations. 

I'm noticing a tender innocence to many of the children of my Utila friends. On the one hand, they are exposed to so much on the streets of Town. I often wish for ear muffs for my own kids when we pass the ferry port and there's crazy shirtless Webb greeting the incoming boat with his tarantula on a stick and some pelvic thrusting as he howls, "GOT-DAMN I WANT SOME FAH-KING GRINGA PUSS-Y!" as the horrified backpacker girls scuttle past. Or there's the diabetic bum begging for soda as he urinates openly next to the cafe where we're having breakfast. Or the crackies spitting at each other in a domestic dispute, or the brash potty-mouths of the twenty-something Aussie divemasters as we pile in the bed of the pick-up truck driving out to beach clean-up. 

But here there is also no TV, no commercials, no WalMart; a complete blissful lack of awareness of mainstream juvenile popculture. Maxim (5) only just learned of the existence of Batman. There is a commitment between the mothers here to maintain that innocence, and preserve some of the wonder of childhood, where afternoons are spent finding snails in the harbor, creating castles for hermit crabs on the beach or visiting bats in abandoned hotels. 

Bine, our tour guide

Today, after Piper's BICA school and yoga and workbooks with the boys in Bundu Cafe, we followed Bine on a tour of her version of Utila. We set out with the girls' hands tucked into mine as we attempted a snake-like single-file through the narrow street, the boys running ahead, and Bine and Pip singing in the sweetest improv soprano soundtrack, 

You have to be nice and caring

to fulfill your heart

and your dreams

of love

You can't be aggressive 

like a bulldog

or Piper's brothers...

FIRST STOP -- THE BAT HOTEL

 This place caught my attention the first time I traveled from Utila Town to the South Shore by boat, on our way from the US. It is a distinctly dated but elegant structure clinging to the hillside over the harbor. I asked our boat captain so many questions about it--why had it never been finished? who owned it? who lived there? that my kids dubbed it "Mom's Old Hotel".

Bine skipped ahead up the steep, green-slick street of Colibri Hill past a tangle of woods and barbed wire with the promise of bats on the fourth floor and a breathtaking view of the harbor. 

hiking up the hill 

Bat hotel 

I was fascinated by the wild grounds that showed hints of ambition, intricate tile work and the design of future fountains and gardens.

Bine danced past laundry on moss-slick paths, past an ornate red iron bedframe and turquoise bike and tugged open the unlocked door. All four children raced up the stairs screaming and clapping.

Underfoot, decades of guano and fruit pits crunched, amidst panes of broken glass and construction debris.

beautiful tile workIt reminded me of the Disney World attraction "Tower of Terror", set in a 1940s abandoned hotel with endless attention to historical detail to entertain park guests as they stood in hours of snaking line and waited to be thrilled. Only here, as my children clapped to startle bats and climbed through broken windows to balconies, I was acutely aware that no ride inspector or first world litigious system was ensuring their security. 

potentially stunning botanical and water features

view from the topThe view of the harbor below was worth it.

Bine's mom waved to us from the porch of their house below where she was whipping up one of her signature delicious lunches and toddler Gus was no doubt sword-weilding or plunging into their homemade boat bath in his underwear. 

Back inside the hotel, the startled, nocturnal bats flew in and out as we trekked through their territory. Photos couldn't capture it, so I shot a little shaky iPhone video (in between ducking).

bike and bed on the grounds

After I convinced the kids that dropping broken glass from the windows would be a bad idea, we followed Bine back through the overgrown grounds to lookout points. On the balcony of an outbuilding, a young couple kissed, smoke curling up from the cigarettes tucked in their dangling hands. Leafcutter ants stretched a procession a hundred yards long like a miniature landlocked green regatta.

At a fork in the road, we wound up to the Colibri Hotel with the promise of kittens, only to find they had grown into standoffish cats. Instead, we discovered a bright blue pool in a cove of palm trees, and an overloaded avocado tree that rained down its fruit in a gust of wind.

the backs of Bine and Piper's heads 5

A street puppy followed Piper and Bine over the rise in the hill and down again to town, panting and smiling up at them.

A motorbike carrying a family of four zipped past, the baby straddling the gas tank in an overloaded diaper.

An elderly Honduran cowboy in a bright orange shirt bowed and chuckled as Piper and Bine breezed by him.

"Come on!" Bine cried as she and Piper opened their arms like bird wings and rounded the curve of the hill by Johnny's Water back to Town.

"I know where we can see a bulldog named Ceiba and real live green parrots!"

I hurried to catch up. 

* *** *

La Vida Tranquila -- A Visit with Old Tom

When I first arrived here, Señor Tino told me about the fisherman's lore of Old Tom, similar to our Sasquatch, a fish so big it could swallow you whole. The real Old Tom of Utila is the whale shark, a regular visitor to the warm waters between Utila and Roatan. I joked that I would not leave until I swam with one myself, but I knew it could take many years and hours logged on the water before our paths would cross.

Yesterday was our beloved Cherry's birthday, and as we set out with our friend Brad on a lap around the island, fishing lines out in hopes of catching dinner, I whispered a little wish to the world--that she might send up some whale sharks, or at least a dolphin or two.

We had loaded up with gas and a cooler full of junky snacks, Gatorade, water and beer at Bush's Supermercado and set out to the East around Tradewinds. The kids binged on Pringles and Doritos, and as the fishing lines remained slack, the mood deteriorated. The effects of copious amounts of MSG and red dye number five were obvious in the behavior of the niños. J asked if I had picked up any bananas at the store.

"No, only plums," I said, confused, and they explained the fisherman's curse. 

No bananas on the boat, and still no fish. We traveled out to the banks, eyes scanning the horizon for a bait boil or a cluster of birds, both things that indicate the same fish that draw the whale shark. We looked for other dive boats, or the spinner dolphins J swam with on his last trip. 

At last, a boat pulled up alongside, and asked if we had snorkel equipment on board, and told us to follow them--they had spotted a whale shark! We lay flat on the bow while Brad gunned it, my heart racing, tossing equipment to each kid, tucking hair out of masks. I have often wondered if I would be afraid to drop in with a whale shark, the largest fish in the world. We are not on their menu, but imagine encountering a shark the size of a school bus out in the deep blue ocean. 

When the moment came, we cut our engine behind the other boat and there was no time for hesitation. I saw the massive fin slice the water in the midst of the fish boil. Twenty yards ahead, I could see a dark shape near the surface and I dropped in with my children. The water was true blue--visibility littered with particulate, no sight of the deep bottom to ground myself. Holding Piper's hand, hearing my own shallow breath through my snorkel, we swam right toward him.

first view of Old Tom I expected some hesitation from Piper, who is only five, or at least some frantic squeezing of our clutched hands, as my sister and I did when we went on a shark dive in Fiji. 

Nothing. Piper wasn't even breathing hard. Old Tom passed close enough that we could touch him. (We didn't--it's not allowed.) Piper neither pursued nor hung back--she stood her ground, tread water, and turned and waited peacefully for his next pass.

Hayden free dove down and swam close for video footage with our go-pro camera, and then made a beeline for the surface when his swooshing tail passed within inches of him.

This shark was curious, making several close passes, staying close to the surface with us. We made eye contact. Occasionally, he would disappear down into the depths below us. J, an excellent free diver, swam down sixty feet and said he could see him at about a hundred feet. Then he would turn and open his mouth, a six foot wide gaping slot, and swim straight up to the surface where we bobbed and waited, feeding on the bait fish, appearing out of the navy blue abyss.

Hayden shoots videoHe stayed for twenty minutes, visiting and passing close, diving down and surfacing. In hindsight, I wish we had been better at documenting this experience (half the video is shot with the camera upside down) but we also knew that for our first time, it was more important to just be present, because whatever we took home wouldn't come close to capturing the magnificence we felt. 

I have some video to post later, when I edit it, but trust me, it doesn't even come close to showing how breathtaking, how awe-inspiring it felt to be so close to these creatures.

 When this one dove, and didn't come back to the surface, we retrieved the boat we had abandoned with the help of the friends who had tipped us off. We sat in a kind of quiet awe, unable to believe what we had just done and seen. 

Over the next hour, we found two more whale sharks. Both were bigger than the first one (who was maybe 25 feet?) and one was almost double his size, but neither wanted anything to do with us. We would approach the boil in the very center of the jumping tuna, and we'd see a magnificent black tail fin, and a dark shape underwater double the size of our boat. I asked once, as I tugged my mask strap over my head, if we were sure these were whale sharks? It could be anything big feeding here--orcas, tiger sharks, something a little more interested in swimmers bobbing in the middle of a bait ball.

But whenever we slipped into the ocean, we'd catch a glimpse of another Old Tom before they disappeared into the depths.

whale shark feeding

We left them to feed in peace and continued around the island to a remote beach, accessible only by boat. We snorkeled the shallows and collected puka shells, and came across an octopus eating a crab. We ate granola bars and had a beer in the shade of the casuarinas,  until the slant of the sun meant we needed to finish our loop around the island.

As we came up on the Cays, we passed Raggedy Cay, the bird sanctuary, surrounded by frigate birds, egrets and terns. 

Our fishing lines still slack, we squinted into the sunglare on the water--there was activity up ahead. A bait boil? Another whale shark?

This time, it was a giddy pod of spinner dolphins, who came to play along the bow of our boat. We flattened along the bow, and they pulsed in the wake, turning their eyes up to look at us through the foam, a mother and a baby, close enough to touch, while all around the boat, the others leapt and played.

passing just below usWe could hear their whistles and clicks, and on the surface, Piper's delighted squeals. DOLPHINS! WHALE SHARKS! 

We reveled in our good fortune, the strange euphoria of swimming with such a rare and stunning creature, and the friendly curiosity of the dolphins... 

We didn't catch anything for dinner, but we came home with fish stories to spare. 

* *** *

Goodbye Old Tom... until we meet again...

Beach House (in photos)

This post is for my good friend Linda, who writes some of the most honest, from-the-gut stories, including This House. She may be the last person I know who has not sold their soul to the Facebook devil, so she is missing out on the photos I've been posting to my author site there. On our Sunday check-in last week, she said she feels like she is having trouble picturing me where I am. This post is for her, and for Cherry, who always dreamed of a house on the beach.

(NOTE: Some photos have already run on Facebook.)

 UPON ARRIVAL

the marina (photo by Briene Lermitte)

The house is accessible only by boat, through a network of canals or a dock on the beach. This is the marina where the boat lives, where pufferfish and upside down jellies hang out in the dock and the dogs greet you. 

Piper and Bine on the road to home

the dock at Coral Beach Village

THE FRONT YARD

the beach out frontHayden playing flying squirrel in yard

Piper and Amigo at sunset

H watches J kitesurfing on a windy day

THE CASA...

view from the master bed

Our rental house is made of Honduran pine, with a long, screened front porch on the southern facing front of the house that opens into both the bedrooms and the main room. Our bedroom faces east, so we get great morning sunshine, the wind frequently blows from that direction, and ocean views. 

SLEEPING SPACES

my nightstand

Piper's room is on the other side of the house. It is also the only room with an air conditioner. Some nights when there is no breeze we all drag our mattresses in here and crash. Eleven years later, the family bed lives on!

The boys have been waiting their whole lives for their own bedrooms. They were so excited to hear that this would come true for them in Honduras, that there were two separate sleeping lofts on either side of the living room, each with its own full-size bed. Their clothes and the two foster kitties are really enjoying having their own rooms upstairs; the boys sleep with Pip. 

Piper drawing in her bedHaybes in his perch outside his sleeping loft

LIVING SPACE

 The main room of the house is hard to photograph. For one, there is an abundance of rattan, etched glass, wicker furniture and rust-speckled brass ceiling fans that are nothing I would choose. Also,the sun that pours in through the front porch backlights everything. Just know there is a big room, that looks out to the porch and the ocean, some furniture nobody sits on, a dining room sideboard loaded up with our school stuff, and two sets of staircases leading up to the sleeping lofts, and above that, to the aerie at the top of the house. 

The boys turned our kitchen island into a ping pong table

Bringing the outside in 

the coffee station in our kitchen

Piper in the aerie

THE FRONT PORCH

We spend a good part of every day out on the screen porch. Kids lounge on the bed or in the hammock, we exercise here, play chess, craft or paint at the outside table, and basically enjoy the breeze and the views. 

the writing bed

We frequently have mango smoothies and cheese and crackers out here, drink our coffee on the porch, and store our multitude of watersports equipment and growing shell collections here.

It is definitely the most used, multipurpose space in the house. 

painting and craft table

CRAFT CREATIONS

craft prep table

The most recent art project was inspired by a funky piece of driftwood Piper found, and the dozens of little glass drug vials we find on the beach. Using wire, sea glass and shells, we created La Medusa, a funky jellyfish windchime. 

We have also made four huge found-art glass bottle, shell and driftwood windchimes that hang in the trees out on our beach. The sound these make when the wind blows from the east is like a very festive dinner party with lots of toasting. I immediately associate this with good things, since windy days mean no bugs.

The windchime project also gives an ongoing purpose to any glass we find washing up and a way to display treasures.

La Medusa Two at sunrise

La Medusa One

our sea biscuit collection

 kids pose under their trash-to-treasure creation

Windchimes

When the weather is good, we spend more time outside than in. Pelicans and egrets fly by regularly. The dogs hang out and the kitties take dust baths. 

We snorkel and visit the three octopi who live in the shallows right off the house. Max practices cursive in the sandy front yard with sticks. Piper collects treasure for our crafts. They all catch geckos and hermit crabs while I hang laundry. We make campfires, do sun salutations, climb trees and roast coconuts. I am loving our beach life on the quiet side of the island. 

backyard clothesline

we have plenty of trees for climbingand hammocks for relaxing...