Los Haitises national park

Old-growth mangroves

Impersonating the lady baboon who had a pet kitten

In the current--leaving the Cueva de la Linea, covered with Taíno petroglyphs. The Taíno were maybe not ready for us to leave this island. Seemed like they called us back, untenderly, seemed like they stopped us with a slap, like a fierce Zen teacher, stalking enlightened behind us. 

The park was spooky in the dusk, dark caves and oddly friendly officials who asked us if we had any rum or rice, cooked--cocinao--to give them, and when Adam said, "No, estamos muertos," they said, "Well, do you want some?" Back across the bay in the dark, climbing the steep waves.

Luperón to Samaná

Hand steering, exhausted with rainbow. Twenty-four hours after leaving Luperón with no autopilot. Goodbyes said via facebook, last pesos given to the motorcycle driver who brought me to the dock with the groceries, thinking, next stop Puerto Rico. Thinking, America by any other name--yeah. Which is so wrongly nostalgic but it somehow can't, in the blooming seasickness, be helped. Maybe we'll hang the big flag off the dinghy davits.

Engine not getting enough fuel, a haze of missed sleep over the bright morning entering Samaná Bay. American ex-slaves came here after the Civil War, and maybe they came by this route, rough rounding the corner and seeing the palm trees and green slopes of their new home, uncharted freedom, not even a road leading from the capital.

The lagartijo that T carried through three grocery stores and an ice cream place.

A performance space on the cay.

El mar

Taking leave

The scorn that erupts suddenly for the details of a particular life. Where the day before, the second before, compassion lay. The upwelling of a sorrow that feels thick, undigested. Exhilarating beauty that softens the edges, the beauty and melancholy of what is. The unplumbed depths of the ordinary. The new—half forgotten—sense of freedom. Simply walking away—leave behind the rules of one place and they cease to exist. Looking out at the horizon, a fine, infinite emptiness of human rules and logic. But that place left behind, all the places left behind, do live on inside us. Once we have partaken of them. And yet. The horizon whipped with wind, deep blue. A sprung trap line.'

Father-daughter day at the beauty salon

Homeschooling

A work in progress. Or rather, a coalition of the willing.

Bienvenido, el maestro de español.

Snail experiments

Parent, incredulous: "Can you understand that?"
Child, disdainful: "It's just Spanish."

A gift from our friend Virginie, who has been teaching Tallulah about reading, writing, arithmetic, and French style.

"Robots"

J: Today we want to talk about—um—it. Doing it.

A: [Laugh.] Just say what you mean.

J: But you know what I mean. So does everybody else.

A: [Shaking head.] OK. So we’ve known each other a long time.

J: Yeah—25 years or something!

A: And in all that time, you’d think—well, things would get a little boring.

J: Well—they have gotten kinda boring from time to time.

A: I wasn’t bored. I was just frustrated.

J: OK, frustrated. We can call it that.

[Gets up and goes behind the podium where an oversized bottle of beer is waiting. Uncaps the beer and takes a long drink.]

But people are probably wondering, you know, what’s our secret.

A: And we do have one.

J: Yep. Two. Robots.

A: You heard that right. Robots.

J: We've had the same fights, over and over. A million times! It’s gotten so that we don’t even need to have these fights anymore. They’re so yesterday! So...fifteen or twenty years ago!

A: That’s the downside of knowing each other so long. But with robots, that problem is over. Solved.

J: Yeah. The robots can have the fights now.

A: We just program the robots and let them slug it out. And we can go on having fun. Enjoying each other’s company! Just like married people are supposed to do.

J: Yeah, and so rarely actually do.

A: It’s like marriage can be one big failure. One big let-down. I see it from Tallulah’s perspective. Old people yammering in raised voices about something incomprehensible and repetitive. How stupid is that? Let’s move on. It’s the twenty-first century! Let robots feel the pain!

[They kiss.]

T: [Appears stage right, with the two robots.] Ew, gross—kissing! Can I kiss, too?

A: Here they are.

[The robots start arguing. A and J share the beer and root for their bot. They have remotes and occasionally aim them at the robots to mix up the battle.]

J: You can be as involved as you’d like. Usually we just turn them on when we feel the urge and hit auto, because who has the time?

A: [Describes the programming parameters, networking ability, open architecture, and logic parity in some detail.] So you see, nobody gets an obvious advantage. Meaning, it’s fair play!

J: Occasionally we learn something from the exchange, but mainly they’re just taking over a dull task. Leaving us available for more creative pursuits.

A: Welcome to the future.

The mountain across the street

We finally figured out how to get to the top. 

And foraged for sour oranges.

Posed.

And played a fun game.

And posed. Forty-three years young, baby.