Leases, Commuting and Furniture, OH MY!

I have been back “home” in San Francisco for 3 ½ months, yet with how “settled” I guess I am it feels like it could be 3 ½ years. And were it not for still running into friends asking, “hey how was that sailing trip or your Africa thing?” it might feel as if they never happened.

3 weeks after coming home, I received and accepted a job offer from a company acting as a business network for cleantech, renewable energy and sustainable development. My job as Community Manager is to…get this…architect educational and networking conferences within those fields. I write the agendas, find the speakers/panelists and then promote and produce the events. Within a year, I will have personally met everyone who is anyone in the cleantech field in the Bay Area. Score!

About a week after the job came through, I found an apartment in the city, signed a 1-year lease, and moved in a few days later. It is a large 1-bedroom with parking – very central in the city. Then I went a little Craigslist-happy and started buying actual grown-up furniture…I have a matching bedroom set, a couch, and even a dining area for 6.

And yesterday, I finished unpacking the last box and hanging the last picture on the wall.

I wake up every morning around 6 (ok, I end up snoozing until 6:30), shower, eat oatmeal and ride my bike into work. By 16:30, I’m working out in the gym.

I’m dating, sort of, though that doesn’t seem to be going very well yet.

I even managed to make it out to the desert for Burningman, the mother of all excess, to participate in this year’s celebration of cities: Metropolis.

The irony of it all is not lost on me. I’ve gone from a backpack, albeit a heavy one, to an apartment full of stuff that would require a moving truck and beefy boys to deal with. Whereas I spent less than $300 for my solo travels around Namibia, Botswana and Zimbabwe, my latest credit card bill is five times that. On the boat, my “worries” were about as worrisome as which movie to watch, whether or not it was warm enough to stay up on the flybridge for my night watches without a jacket, and if I had to sew the patch on the damn gennaker again. Here, now, well, I worry about a lot more – though why I do is a good question to ponder.

A part of me feels hypocritical. Did I not learn anything from living sparsely on the bare necessities? Why am I bogging myself down with earthly possessions and legally binding documents? Another part of me feels content with putting down roots, for now, knowing that the big wide world is out there to sail off into and explore when the time is right in the future. I mean, hey, we all know I can do it. .

Someone asked me last night what I came home with after my experiences abroad for a year. I am always noticeably aware of how gluttonous my surroundings are, and how excessive I, just by simply living in this world, can be. (Though my only clothing purchases have been at Goodwill and I always shut off the water while brushing my teeth. Ehem, in full disclosure though, I do linger too long in my luxurious hot showers.) It is very easy to blink my eyes and have a camera click shutter sound go off in my head and see my environment drop away and get replaced by my environment in Namibia. I look at the nice pens and pencils on my desk and flash to the 1-inch shred of wood my learners used to painstakingly copy their notes. The list goes on and on, but it boils down to an awareness, which at this point in time I don’t feel will ever fully leave me, that we in the Western world are blessed and so much of the rest of the planet does without. (Yes, yes, there is the question of do material goods equate to a better life….I’m not going to go there.) AND, there’s a quiet satisfaction that comes with knowing that should I choose, I could toss it all and move to Zimbabwe to teach or sail into the sunset. Last but not least, I am cognizant of my need for and value of deep human connection, making me ever more grateful for my loved ones – my mom, my friends – being able to talk to them every day, hug them and laugh together.

For now though, I am here living a “normal” life in San Francisco. I am happy with my decision to come home. I am proud of myself for recognizing my fears and facing them head on rather than running from them. I feel as though I am in alignment with and in the good graces of the Universe.

Thanks for following. Until the next adventure……….Jen Jackson, out.

Home Sweet Home

Dorothy had it right; there really is no place like home. The world is full of jaw-droppingly beautiful places, amazing cultures to interact with, and damn fun things to do, but for this girl, the rest of the world isn't home. San Francisco Bay is. I am blessed. Every so often my wanderlust kicks in, I dream up some wacky international adventure, and I make it happen. But I always have SF to come back to (regardless of whether or not my name is on a lease there). My friends have welcomed me back with open arms, and in the case of my dear friend Deb, she's opened her home to me as well.

I've hit the ground running by polishing up my resume and applying to several positions, plus talking to a couple of entrepreneurial friends getting their own companies off the ground. (Know of a job? Email/Call me!) I'm also offering my services to anyone interested as a personal assistant - someone who can wait around during those annoying 4 hour furniture delivery or internet service windows, go to the DMV, etc. all of the things you'd normally have to take time off of work for but really don't want to. (Need a hand? Call/Email me!) And thankfully, I have at least a few weeks of get-togethers with friends who want to hear stories of the high seas to keep me busy.

In my last post I said I was afraid of coming home because I didn't know what to do with myself there and of the state of the economy. Now that I'm actually here it doesn't seem that bad. There seem to be more job listings than there were last year. I suspect there are a lot more applicants too, but at least jobs are out there. My spirits and confidence are up. There's a reason "JenJackson" is a verb. JenJacksoning is setting out to do something and getting it done.

I'm still a little regretful about not meeting back up with the Spirit of Nyami Nyami for a bit of actual fun cruising through French Polynesia. I made the right decision though. It's time to be home for a good long while. I'll cross the Pacific again someday; I know it, but next time it'll be on my boat with my person or my people ;-)

As you likely tuned into this blog for adventure tales, and I started it to write them, this will be my last post. It has been an absolute pleasure to share my stories with you all and know that you've enjoyed reading them. Thanks for all the support and well wishes along the way. And remember, next time you dream up an adventure, don't let it pass you by - JenJackson it, you'll be so glad you did.

Love,
Jen

Pictures...FINALLY!

I've got 3 albums for ya:

LOTS of sunset pictures (can't be helped) - a handful of giggly narrative videos...
Hope you like em.

To the Galapagos

Pacific Passage

French Polynesia

Purpose

The ticket isn't booked yet, but it's really only because they are ridiculously expensive and my mom and I are trying to find the absolute cheapest we can. 

I'm coming home this weekend.

It dawned on me today while scrubbing <i>Bubas</i> clean for the owners arriving tonight...I'm now out here for the wrong reasons.  I said I wanted to cross the Pacific, and that I'd keep going if the circumstances were right.  But you see, the "keep going" part was really just to avoid going back home.  So now that I've completed the passage and I've been struggling to find the right situation to continue, I have to be honest with myself.  I'm only still here because I'm afraid of going home.  I should well know by now, if you do something or go somewhere for the wrong reasons, it's never going to feel right.  I could say that I'm here for the sailing and the travel and the lifestyle, and while there's a part of me that's *definitely* into it (and still wants to do it when the time is right), the part that's just staying out for the sake of staying out far outweighs the former. 

Some of you might be asking yourselves what about home scares me.  The answer is I don't know what to do with myself back there.  The economy is in the poo poo house; very smart and capable people I know have been looking for work for well over a year.  And San Francisco isn't exactly a cheap place to wait it out.  Course, as I'm finding, neither is the South Pacific.  I operate best in a startup/small company environment, and the areas I'm most passionate about are green technology, renewable energy, sustainable development, etc.  I've been putting out some feelers (ok, 1 feeler) but in these uncertain times, everything is, well, uncertain.  So if any of you out there know of an opportunity, please send me an email.  I'm willing to take ANY job for the time being too.  I don't need the perfect position, I just need to not be sitting on my hiney day in and day out.  Oh, I also need a place to live.  I'll be staying with a friend for a bit, but a 6 month (cheap) sublet or something while I sort myself out would be awesome. 

So let this be a lesson to you all.  When you set out to do something, make sure the reasons for doing so are pure in your heart.  If they aren't, while you may find yourself in one of the most beautiful places on earth, you won't be happy.

Fun Solid Beating

You're scratching your head going "what on earth is she talking about?"  This post actually covers these 3 words as separate topics, but I'm in a weird mood this morning and thought I'd jumble it all up.

There are several instances of everyday sayings being derived from nautical terminology, "three sheets to the wind", "posh", "tie one on", etc.  But there's at least one time that I believe sailors borrowed from the general public.  When you sail upwind or worse, dead on-the-nose (whatever the direction the wind is coming from is the precise direction you need/want to go), sailors call it "beating".  I imagine a crew long ago got their hineys kicked in a bar brawl on the night before heading out to sea.  They were made to sail into the wind and as the ship bashed about into the waves one of them says, "Man, this feels just like the beating we took last night."  Tahiti is southeast of Raiatea.  Forecast:  30-35 kts of wind out of the southeast, 2.5-3 meter (7.5-9 feet) seas out of the south.  This, friends, made for a proper BEATING.  Thank god for two big engines though.  We're trying to make Tahiti during business hours on this Friday so that I can track down my shipment of Accutane.  I run out today.  And, though I'm 4th on the waiting list for a flight to the Marquesas tomorrow, I'm still going to go and sit at the airport and try and get on the flight.  But I can't do that unless i get my pills.  And if I can't get my pills, I have to get them Monday, but Air Tahiti tells me the next available flight isn't until Wednesday. 

I'm heading to the Marquesas to rejoin the <i>Spirit of Nyami Nyami</i> in an effort to try and have some FUN over here.  I think I may have mentioned this before.  Apologies if so.  I am simply not having a good time and haven't since making landfall.  We have gone from Rangiroa to Bora Bora to Raiatea, all quite populated busy islands.  With the exception of 2 delightful days with some Americans on a nearby boat, I've been in the company of French speaking people who generally do not feel compelled to try and include me in the conversation at all.  I've been choking on the prices of each and every little thing, and frustrated with not being able to get a SIM card so I can at least whine to my mom about it all.  Bora Bora, while beautiful, is an island full of pretty unhappy people with a lot of negative energy.  This is confirmed both by Jean, a former resident of 12 years and his friend Terry, a current resident.  It took me a couple of days just to get my mood to a more reasonable level after leaving there.  Raiatea was better, especially because we were at a dock and I had the freedom to come and go, and that's where I met my new American friends.  But I hear other cruisers talk of going to itty bitty islands and going spearfishing with the locals and trading for pearls and awesome scuba diving.......and I'm getting none of that, just the price tag of French Polynesia.  So I'm hoping <i>Nyami</i> will help me experience these islands as they should be experienced, and to have some fun. 

Whether it's the lack of fun, or the news of Bob's death, or the fact that I've accomplished my goal of crossing the Pacific, or just cosmic forces at work, I've been experiencing an increasing desire to go home.  I was thinking about it for a little while without saying anything.  Then I started mentioning it to a few people.  Now I've begun kicking around ideas for what going home would look like.  My friend Mota helped frame the feelings for me.  He said, "Jen, you seem to be ready for something SOLID.  Sailing around on other people's boats may be fun, but it is anything but solid."  I think "solid" in the cruising lifestyle means you're with a partner or family, or you have your own boat.  I'd be lying if I told you I wasn't hoping I'd find said partner out here and we'd sail off together into the sunset (oh comeon I had to say it).  But so far there doesn't seem to be any 35-45 single men singlehanding and looking for a lady out here.  And doing it on my own?  Well folks, I'm kinda lonely.  I've had an awful lot of alone time for the past year, in fact, about 11 months worth.  I miss my friends and family.  I miss my Godson who apparently only cries now when there's something actually wrong (or so his mother tells me).  I miss phone calls.  I miss hugs.

I got it into my head during one of my watches last night that if I can't get this plane to go back to Don's boat, that I'd just catch one to L.A. instead (then S.F.)  I don't know if that's what I'm going to do; that's pretty rash, even for me.  And I do believe I really should give fun a chance.  But home is calling, and it's getting louder and louder.

Death and Facebook

The biggest quiet concern about travelling to far away lands is that something will happen to your loved ones when you are away.  I say 'quiet' because no one likes to talk about it.  Even worse is when you're going to be out of touch for a while.  The first time you check your email you can hardly contain yourself with all the excitement of hearing from friends and family, but at the same time you silently dread the worst.

Sadly, when I arrived in French Polynesia after the 30 day passage, I learned that a friend of mine, Bob Seymour, had passed away the previous weekend.  International internet connection troubles painfully throttled the pace at which I got the details surrounding his death.  For the first several hours all I knew was that he had died tragically.  Then I learned he had committed suicide, and much later I was told how and why. 

It's a week now since I've known, and still as I sit writing this I'm getting choked up.  I met Bob back in 2003 when I joined the camp "Love Project Unlimited" (LPU) for my first trip to Burningman.  From our introduction to the last time I saw him Bob was nothing short of delightful.  He was always smiling, willing to help and had natural energy in a sea of intoxicants.  Even when something was frustrating or difficult, Bob would be there bearing down, working hard, but still positive and the first to shoot me a grin.  One of my favorite memories of Bob happened out on Market Street.  He rode his bike to work everyday (though I have no idea how, up the hill to Twin Peaks!) and I took the bus, so was often waiting around on the street.  You couldn't miss Bob; he always wore bright yellow neon.  One day I saw him just a little past me and I called out, "BOB!"  He didn't turn around.  So I tried again, "BOB, NICE ASS!!"  That did it; he screeched to a halt and looked around dazed to find me laughing hysterically :-) 

While Bob was certainly someone I could always count on, I can't say that he was a good or a close friend.  I just didn't know the guy that well.  He pretty much always showed up to all events, and we'd have a short to medium length chat, but they were just chats.  I tried to talk-talk with him, learn more about him, but he never seemed open to it.  Everyone else had a similar experience with him...no one *really* knew the guy.  I only had one talk with him, and ironically, it was about death.  Unfortunately, even at my young age (31), I've had to deal with a lot of death.  I've lost very close family, good friends and even a lover.  It was early 2008 and I had just gone through a very difficult time of losing 3 family members over the course of 3 months.  Bob offered his condolences and told me how he'd never really lost anyone he was close to, though he was a fair bit older than I.  He knew he'd have to face it eventually; he was scared and asked how I dealt with it.  I told him that the one thing I had learned is that you have to give yourself permission to grieve as much and for however long you need to.  Everyone is different, so if anyone tells you you *should* be getting over it by now, just tell them where to stick it. 

Now I'm sitting in a beautiful island paradise dealing with *his* death, and everytime I *should* be having fun, diving/snorkeling etc., I'm thinking of him.  (Which I've given myself every right to do.)  Yesterday, the internet connection was relatively stable, so I was cruising Facebook.  I'd wondered what happens to one's profile when you die...what if no one has your password to deactivate your account?  Does it just stay frozen in time?  Should a "Deceased" status be added to the Single, In a Relationship, and Married list?  As it turns out, at least for Bob anyway, his Facebook page has turned into a memorial of sorts.  Loads of people have posted messages, photos and condolences and notices went up about services and gatherings.  The messages were the most poignent.  "You made the world a better place."  "Thank you for always being there with a smile on your face."  "I wish I knew you better; what little I knew was wonderful."  ALL these people pouring out ALL this love to Bob in a medium he isn't likely to see (unless Facebook is available in the afterlife, which isn't entirely outside of the realm of possibility, but still...).  I couldn't help but think, what if we told each other how much we love and care for one another BEFORE we go, maybe in such a way that we can save it and look at it when we get low.  Bob said in his note that he knew he had support from many friends, but he didn't feel he could turn to anyone for help.  Maybe if he knew the depth of everyone's love and support, saw it immortalized on his profile, just maybe.................

Is there a "Tell me How Much You Care About Me and Why" or "Living Memorial" Facebook app?  There should be. 

Bob, I wish we had talk-talked more.  I loved your energy, your smile, your selflessness and how you always seemed to be boppin to music.  You could have called on me for anything.  I'll miss you...and your nice ass.

A Drop in the Bucket

May 20

Going to sea now for just a couple of days feels like a drop in the bucket.  2 days?  Pssshhtt.  That doesn't even register after 30 days.  However, it is enough to make me all warm and fuzzy happy again.  I do love it out here.

While I miss having a buddy (Oly), it's nice to take a more active role with the boat.  Jean has a great deal of experience, but there's something about his manner which makes it feel like this is really a co-skipper arrangement.  We're sharing the duties well.  He has local knowledge of where we should go, but the only detailed chart we have is what's on my computer.  And he's new to the workings of the Raymarine chart plotter and auto pilot.  So he points to the place we need to go on my computer chart, and I enter it into our route for the autopilot.  I'm glad to be pulling my weight.  If I weren't here things would be considerably more difficult for him, not only the navigation, but also dealing with arriving and departing (launching/securing the dinghy, anchoring) and the obvious round-the-clock watch-keeping.  Elze, though I'm sure she means well, has the unfortunate combination of timidness and poor to no English plus not ever having been on a boat before.  So when we ask her to do something plus gesturing and demonstrating, we're met with "Eh?"  It's fine - Jean and I are quickly sorting out our little team.

We had no wind for the first full day, but we are finally cruising along now under main and jib at about 6-7 knots.  Life is good. 

Well, sailing life is good.  Food life?  Notsomuch.  We're down to the bottom of the barrel from the crossing, and since food was so expensive in Rangiroa, we opted for just a few basics.  Sadly, no fish have found their way to us either, so dinner tonight consisted of opening up 3 cans and boiling a package of pasta.  Yum.  BUT, I did get inspired this afternoon and decided I could figure out how to make tortillas sans Google instructions.  (I had a failed attempt about a week ago.)  But today, SUCCESS!  I wanted to do beef tacos, but we have no beef so it was turkey chili + rice + a mild picante I mixed up.  It was actually pretty good, though it was chili and you wouldn't think so.  (The tortillas were the best part!)

Very early this morning we will arrive in Bora Bora.  Jean asked me tonight what Americans think Bora Bora means.  I said "honeymoon".  He laughed and agreed.  He said it's like that for people from all around the world.  He doesn't know why it got that reputation, but it is his personal belief that it's one of the most beautiful places in the world.  It'll be nice to be there with a (former) resident.  He worked for years at the Club Med there before it shut as well.  Can anyone give me a "Hands UP"? :-)

UPDATE:  Arrived Safe and Sound in Bora Bora, 0800 local time May 21, 2010