We’ve been here long enough now to know which shop has the best baguette, where we can get a decent selection of vegetables – though the opening hours are still cryptic – and where there’s a shower with an actual shower-head, a locking door and everything else one could wish for – so long as warm water aren’t among your wishes. We have grown into a set of daily habits, devouring books as if they might all be taken from us in the morning, consuming copious amounts of self-made lemonade and going for a run once the sun sets behind the hills around 5 PM.
It’s been over two weeks since we first got to Nuku Hiva, and we are still waiting for some parts we need before we can move on. This place is starting to feel familiar. The waitress at the one hotel with decent drinks in the bar (half-price on Friday evenings!) knows our names. There’s a stray dog that goes running whenever we go for a run, and comes to the grocery store whenever we go there. We’ve called him Spot. Spot rarely fails to meet us at the dock when we get in, and he always follows us back to the dinghy when we leave. Being in one place seems like the default state of life. This is where life runs dangerously close to feeling domestic, a state of being where I expect things not to change.
The challenges in sailing around the world are admittedly not that great, but you do have to keep moving. Settling is a curse many a mile-weary sailor has met. Our parts should be in within the next day or two, and the weather for a passage to the Tuamotos is looking good. We may have slowed down for a while, but we’re not stuck quite yet.