All I was really after were some limes, but sometimes a simple errand can turn into an extended encounter—and a glimpse into local ways. I was in Port Antonio, a small city with a protected harbor at the foot of Jamaica’s Blue Mountains. One of the draws of the place—other than the excellent marina and the incredible natural beauty—was the opportunity to provision before my husband, Markus, and I set off for Panama’s San Blas islands on Namani, our Dufour 35. I was a woman on a mission, just breezing through—until friendly locals slowed me down.

At a tiny fruit stand I met Sophia, who made her living selling just a smattering of goods: a little citrus, a few spices; enough to fill a large basket, no more. Squeezed in with quiet Sophia were two friends, outgoing Evette and kindly Andrea, 20-something girlfriends chatting away. To my delight, they immediately pulled me into their conversation. When my eye fell on the ginger—lovely fresh ginger, so different from the wizened old knobs found at the supermarket back home—the young women mentioned sorrel drink, Jamaica’s traditional Christmas brew.

Seeing that I had no concept whatsoever of this fabulous concoction, the three launched into the recipe, each repeating it in her own words so it might penetrate my thick head. It took me about 10 iterations to understand the word “sorrel,” the way it rolled off their Jamaican tongues and traveled into my uncomprehending American ear. Cereal? Sonnel? Sorrel! Finally, I understood! In Jamaica, sorrel is a type of hibiscus (hibiscus sabdariffa), and it’s distinctly different from the green similar to spinach called by the same name elsewhere. I asked where I might find it. Sophia glanced sideways at Evette, who looked suggestively at Andrea, who smiled widely. “I’ll get some!” she cried and disappeared into the market.

Andrea eventually found some through a friend, and that afternoon, just as promised, Sophia presented me with a gallon-sized bag of wine-red Jamaican sorrel, at the bargain price of the equivalent of $1. That evening, I brewed up my first batch of Christmas drink, my ears ringing with instructions in melodic Jamaican voices while the scent of ginger and sorrel filled the galley. My husband sipped and heartily approved. In the end, we made several different batches until we had a recipe that worked as both a refreshing ice tea and as a cocktail. With Christmas right around the corner, I’d gained—thanks to my new friends in Port Antonio—not only a lovely memory of Jamaica but also a recipe for a drink perfect for a tropical holiday celebration.

Jamaican Christmas Cocktail

• 1 quart bottled water
• 1 handful Jamaican sorrel (substitute hibiscus or rose hips tea, or two Red Zinger teabags)
• 1 small (teaspoon-size) knob ginger, peeled and diced
• Sugar, to taste
• Rum (or wine) to taste (optional)
• Fresh mint, for garnish (optional)

While boiling the water, wash and drain the sorrel. Remove water from heat and add the sorrel (or substitute) and ginger, letting them brew and cool for four to six hours. Strain the sorrel and ginger from the liquid; it will keep for several days unrefrigerated. Add sugar and rum to taste. Vary the amount of each ingredient to personal taste: Use less ginger for a milder taste (as little as a tiny sliver), more sorrel to intensify the flavor, and as much sugar and rum or wine as you like. Drink over ice. Garnish with fresh mint, if available. For fun, try to develop your own signature blend, bringing a taste of Jamaican festivity to your own galley. Makes about four 8-ounce drinks.

Find more tasty recipes here!

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Bocas del Toro map

The cruising community in the Bocas del Toro region of Panama is in shock after a couple, who are reportedly in their 70s, was assaulted and robbed while aboard their boat, which was anchored in the “south anchorage” of the Bocas Marina. The attack began at about 0100 Sunday when the two assailants pulled up next to the couple’s boat in a typical Panamanian cayuco wooden boat, boarded the sailboat, and tied up the victims at gunpoint. “They ransacked the boat and stole everything of value, including cameras, electronics, a computer, cash, and jewelry,” reports Don Winner for Panama Guide. “The attack lasted at least two hours, during which time the victims were assaulted and brutalized. The anchorage is reported to be very busy with 20 boats. However only a couple of boats out of the hundred or so in the area responded when the victims were finally able to put out a call for help on the radio at 0330, after the assailants had left. The victims have filed a complaint with the National Police in Bocas del Toro and the woman was taken to the hospital.”

“There is a report that some would-be assailants tried to board another sailboat at 2230 on Saturday 7 July 2012. It was reported that these would-be victims were able to repel that boarding attempt, and nothing else happened.

“It is understood that the cruising couple who were attacked had only been in Panama for a couple of weeks. This is the worst incident in the past few years to happen in Bocas del Toro, which up until now had a pretty secure reputation. It is hoped the government will take this event seriously and put as much resource as possible into finding the attackers”

“The locals are upset,” says Becky Flannigan, also in Bocas del Toro, in her blog s/v Kokomo. “They need us cruisers to come to their town and spend money. The cruisers are gathering together this Saturday for a fundraiser for the couple. The marina has offered to move their boat into the marina, free of charge. Many of the cruisers are helping out however they can. We are all stunned and saddened.”

The attackers are described as two young men with slender builds and short hair. They speak both English and Spanish and reportedly have a “Jamaican” sounding accent. One of them called the other “Emilio” during the attack. If you have any information about this sad situation, contact Panama’s National Police.

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kids scuba diving

The water off the West End of Isla de Roatán, in Honduras’ Islas de la Bahía, is sapphire blue, and the reefs are alive with fish that shimmer like jewels. But I wasn’t really seeing any of it just yet. I was watching my son fall slowly through the glassy interface of the thermocline toward his father, who was just below him. As they descended, their breathing created a garden of silver bubbles that grew ever upward toward the sun above. Floating on the top, looking down through my mask, I watched as they signaled each other that the pressure in their ears was equalized, their breathing was fine, and they were ready to go. And off they went, the two of them, no longer simply creatures of gravity-bound Earth but something new, partners in this deeper world.

A long time ago, or so it seems to us, when Kaeo was about 5 years old, Johnny, my husband, and I bought him his first set of good fins and a mask. As I watched him play in his aunt’s swimming pool, the elegance and joy of his movements made me swear a secret promise. Somehow, I vowed to myself, I’d give him a chance to explore this part of himself. And not just on some Disneyfied vacation, where things never last. I wanted to make it so that he could live in a place where he could do this every day in the real world. This wasn’t a major motivating factor in our decision to go cruising full-time, but it was always there in the backs of our minds as parents and as divers. Both of our kids have an abiding love and respect for the sea; living on it could only deepen their curiosity and understanding of that world.

Our cruising buddies Tim and Paula, who dive so much that I think they may have hidden gills, recommended West End Divers, on Roatán, as a great place to get the kids certified to dive. Now that Kaeo was 13 and his sister, Kailani, was 10, they could each get a junior open-water certification through PADI, the Professional Association of Diving Instructors. So while we waited in Honduras for the weather we needed to head to Panama, we enrolled both of them in certificate programs. After three and a half days of intensive classroom work in the dive shop, homework on Osprey, and in-the-water training, they passed their final exam one bright, clear morning. We took them for a celebratory lunch, then headed out to the reef.

While Kaeo and Johnny wandered off through the deeper canyons below, Kailani and I snorkeled over the shallow edges. A sharptail eel, olive colored with pale yellow-white spots, fearlessly snaked over the top of the reef not two feet away. We saw ocean triggerfish, indigo hamlets, and dozens of juvenile yellowtail damselfish; velvet black with iridescent electric-blue spots, they’re arguably the most beautiful fish on the reef. Enormous shoals of dusky-blue tangs flew along in perfect unison; when they suddenly stopped to feed on a coral head, they fluttered like aspen leaves.

None of these visual wonders, however, compared with the sight of my children. When Kaeo finished his dive, it was Kailani’s turn. Like a basejumper leaping from a ledge, she spread her arms and fell through the top 25 feet, effortlessly clearing her ears all the way down. I could almost imagine her shouting for the sheer fun of it. Kaeo dove down and swam next to her as she descended.

This makes everything worth it. Though there are times when I wonder whether the cruising life is really the best for them, on this day I was never more certain that it’s unequivocally a gift, one they’ll never lose, forget, cease to care about, or grow out of. We’ve given them the world, the sea, the reef, their independence, this unique life. If all we have is this one moment, may it always be this sweet.

The Clarkes, who spent the winter growing gills underwater in the San Blas islands, are contemplating their next move.

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