A snapshot of the true boat life. A return to the States from the islands always means a bit of a boat-bits shopping spree. Even things like a Fiji flag are easier to get off of Amazon than they are in Fiji itself.

Usually when we travel to the boat we buy some plastic bins and zip tie them shut for our luggage. This time, with so many connections, all requiring retrieving luggage and checking it in again, Ali decided to go hunting online for some cheap luggage. Fifty bucks for five big pieces we could load up, and then give away when we get there.

It’s become our custom for me to ship off to the boat before Ali and the kids do. This gives me time to bang out some projects before the boat is crowded with people going about their everyday lives. It is so much easier to leave tools and lockers sprawled across the floors when nobody else is around to trip over them.

This time, I swung through Portland to spend three quick days with Grammy before disappearing into the Pacific again.

Land in Portland, grab bags, catch up on the markets, and then head off.

The kids always send something along for Bridget.

Because it was just me this time I decided to stay right there at the old folks home with Grammy. Just down the hall from her they have a nice suite for family to stay while visiting. Cheaper, more convenient, and nicer than a hotel. Not to mention I could jump in on a game of Mahjong right outside my door with a table full of ladies any time I wanted.

Ouest and Ali finally got to paint their works of art. Lowe grabbed something off the shelf for himself.

Ever since I first discovered The Blind Onion, I’ve craved it daily. If there was one thing I wish I could bring with us on our travels it would be pizza. I mean, there is pizza everywhere we go, but 99% of the time it is just so bad that you have to wonder if the chef truly believes it is what pizza is supposed to taste like.

Nobody is convinced any ice in Minnesota is safe to walk on this year.

When we told Grammy we were seeing A Christmas Carol a couple of months ago I could tell she was sad that she hasn’t gone to a play in years. Her mobility and eyesight has made it tough. So, I jumped online and tried to find something for us to see during my short visit. What the Constitution Means to Me was playing at the Portland Armory downtown, so off we went.

I had booked seats as far forward as I could, but when the usher saw my mom hesitate at the sight of the stairs she immediately offered, without us even asking, to find us seats up front in the handicap section. And with that we were able to take the elevator down, avoid all but one step, and sit in the second row. Kudos to that nice usher, as well as the manager for quickly accommodating us. That was really nice, and was also an eye-opener for me, as it had never even occurred to me that this was an option. I guess I’m still not used to thinking of my mom as handicapped, despite the fact that she uses a walker these days, and we park in the front row wherever we go. I’ll certainly remember it on our next visit. Courtside at the Trail Blazers, maybe? I’m joking. Well, unless Grammy wants to see the Trail Blazers game. I will remember to take her to more plays, though.

After the play we went back to her sister’s house and I “generously” offered to go get burgers from my favorite neighborhood bar, McPeet’s. I’m not sure how Aunt Beth got so lucky as to buy a house, decades ago, just a few houses away from this place, but I’m glad she did.

We’ve been joking about our luck with the weather this year. First we visited Grammy in November and spent a few days on the beach that were absolutely glorious, and were in no way indicative of normal November weather. Then we went to Minnesota and somehow managed to avoid snow entirely, unless we went and found the man-made stuff on the ski hill. Then I come back to Portland/Vancouver in February and get nothing but clear blue skies. It is always gray and rainy at this time of year.

And just like that, I was off again. LAX late at night, waiting for an overnight flight to Fiji.

Eleven hours later, after a mediocre flight (Fiji Airways has been a bit disappointing as far as long-haul international airlines tend to go), my knees were happy to see the islands come into view.

Fijian customs weren’t playing. When my bags went through x-ray they looked me in the eye and asked (in a tone that suggested they already knew the answer), “You have something to declare?”

They sent me off to a side room, where it wasn’t long before it seemed half the flight had been directed. Fortunately, some boat clearance paperwork eased the process considerably. Once they saw that I had a yacht in the country—and I told them everything I brought with me was going to be leaving with me as well—they were friendly. They asked me to just write down what I had and how much it was worth. I wrote down 3 things, which were just a fraction of all the stuff in those bags, and they simply copied that down onto a receipt. No import duties owed.

A little while later I boarded a puddle-jumper to Suva.

The plane wasn’t even off the ground before I was asleep. My eyes didn’t open again until the plane landed. My mind, not yet fully awake, looked at the scene outside the window and some gears began to crank inside. “That seemed fast. I must have really been sleeping hard. Huh, this runway seems really wide. Was there an airport expansion while I was gone?”

I stepped off the airplane and was totally confused. “Ummm, excuse me, where am I? I’m supposed to be in Savusavu.”

Nausori airport in Suva, Fiji. Most definitely not Savusavu, Fiji.

Turns out Ali had booked, and I had willfully climbed aboard, a flight to SUV, not SVU. Yeah, seriously, how much more confusing can they possibly make it? I was now on the other side of the main island, in Suva, instead of on a nearby island called Savusavu.

The ticketing agent inside was nice enough. She said it, “Happens all the time.” Which only leads me to wonder, shouldn’t they change something so it doesn’t?

Fortunately, there was one more flight to SVU that afternoon, and it wasn’t booked. I paid for my flight and got comfortable on a plastic chair for a couple hours.

To add to the confusion, when we had left for SUV, they had told us that our bags couldn’t make the flight. The airplane was overloaded. So they’d be sending the bags on the next flight and would deliver them to us. Well, obviously, I didn’t want my bags to come to SUV at all. They needed to go to SVU in order to catch up with me. No problem, I was assured, they would take care of that.

I stayed awake for this flight, and was happy to see Bumfuzzle from the air, confirming I was finally in the right place.

Friends of ours with two little kids had generously offered to take care of Georgie the hamster for us while were away. They did a great job with her, spending time feeding, cleaning, and playing with her every day. Unfortunately, just a few days before I got back, Georgie died. We felt bad, most of all, for the two little kids that were caring for her. I found this on her cage when I got home. Three-year-old Evelyn would later tell me, in the most sincere, sweet little girl voice, “Georgie was my best friend.”

The next morning I went back to the airport, having been told my bags would be on the 8:30 flight. They weren’t. The lone lady in the airport made calls to the other airports. Nobody seemed to know a thing about them. Both of our bags, containing many thousands of dollars worth of boat gear, were MIA. She assured me she’d stay on it. Not to worry.

So I went about my business that day. I really wasn’t worried, as the airports here are so tiny, I was sure the bags would turn up. Later in the afternoon I hadn’t heard back, and I was out running around doing some errands with a taxi anyway, so I had him swing over to the airport again. She was at a loss. Nobody knew where they were. They had talked to everyone. She wasn’t giving up. She would stay on it, she said again. I left feeling a bit less assured than I had that morning.

Then at 5:00 she called me. They had arrived on the last flight she said. She would bring them right over to me in town.

When she got there I asked what had happened. Conspiratorially, she whispered, “I think the girl in Nadi was afraid to admit she forgot to put them on the morning flight, so she snuck them onto the afternoon flight without telling anyone.” Haha, whatever, I was just happy to have them.