#57 / 2005 Tour 3: Barra de Navidad

BARRA DE NAVIDAD
#57


The French Baker

I have now arrived at the second world-class resort of my lifetime. We only motor-sailed about six hours to get to one of our main destinations: Barra de Navidad. Again my eyes can hardly adjust to what I am seeing. I just can't believe something this beautiful and special is right before me. I'm not in Nashville anymore.

We finally made it to slip G 25 after Rick scraped bottom coming into the bay. It was tricky sailing and his directions weren’t very clear. He finally called into the port captain as an emergency on the rocks. 


Of course after a few moments we floated right off of the rocks and got back into the channel, but notwithstanding we made a very ignoble arrival into the marina and became known as that ship that hit the rocks. Even the emergency boats came out, but by then of course we were back on course and headed to the dock.

We are dwarfed by enormous yachts and power cruisers; I think we are the smallest ship here just about. Fifty bucks a day and we again have access to all the resorts facilities plus Joe and I get to experience a little dockside living. The Laundromat was the first order of business. 

There are hot tubs, multiple stories of swimming pools, the place looks like an old palace, but is probably practically brand new. None of these resort hotels look like they have more than fifteen or twenty percent occupancy rates, but the docks are chogged full of grand ships and yachts. Wonder if I will see anyone I know here! That's a joke of course.

So we settle into marina living. The docks are surrounded by beautiful grounds and a golf course. There's a spa room to work out in, restaurants and bars, even bars in the pool. It's all here. When we get up in the morning we put on the coffee and turn on the sea radio. The French baker makes his announcement each morning via radio about eight.

"This is the French baker; I will be arriving at the dock in about ten minutes. Today I have onboard herbed breads..." with subsequent announcements each time he heads to another dock from A to G.

We rush to the cockpit and he floats by in his panga with all his wares spread out on the seats.

One has to take a little boat taxi into the tiny town of Barra. Here the French baker has his own outdoor cafe. His wares are displayed beautifully behind glass cases to keep the flies out. The presentations of his culinary French fare mark a high-water mark for quality in the town's food offerings.

All this is to say that everything was here to be had. It all smacks of such privilege. I have a hard time imagining what it would be like to live this life every day.