Catalina Island Adventures Part II

Welcome back to JQ TIME: A Blonde's Perspective. If you are tuning in for the first time, you will want to read my posts in order to follow the storyline. Please start with the first post. I have numbered the chapters in hopes of making it easy to follow.

Find out how Rafael manages to book a private yacht to the island in the upcoming chapters. Remember, these stories are all based on the true events and real people in my life.

HAPPY READING!

Chapter 3: A Private Yacht

There are only three ticket-holding people boarding the largest, most deluxe ferry that goes to the island. And that is including both Rafael and me. Apparently, most travelers go earlier in the morning. We are not always the fastest moving morning people, so we made it to L.A. from Monterey by 6:30 p.m., which I thought was pretty good.

So, now we have a giant, private ferry to the island. Sweet!

“You can sit anywhere you like,” someone on the boat staff says as we start to board. “And you can just leave your luggage by the stairs, if you want. There isn’t anyone else on the boat.”

Of course, Rafael is handling my luggage by now because I can’t manage lifting my cool, new suitcase for long. So much for being independent! Rafael places the luggage by the stairs on the first level and we run up the stairs to the next deck.

The second deck has a clear view of the surrounding coastline, which is nice, but it doesn’t compare to the view that we see as we reach the very top deck.

The sun is just starting to set and the small, thin clouds around the sun are various hues of pink. The sea is calm and inviting us to go further and further out. Soon we can’t see the coastline any longer. The ocean and pink clouds are all that's visible. I never realized there were so many shades of pink before. Nature’s paintbrush never ceases to amaze me.

We decide to stand outside on the back of the boat for awhile before going in. As I start to zip up my jacket to protect me from the breeze, I notice the romantic wheels spinning in my boyfriend’s head. He’s taking in the scenery, the moment, and giving me that “I want to ravish you” smile. It’s one of my favorite looks on him.

“Isn’t this romantic?” he asks and leans in to start kissing me slowly and somewhat discretely.

I knew that was what he was thinking. At times like this, I’m so happy to be dating my Rico Suave, Latin lover. Every move he makes is smooth and calculated. On the dance floor, we move in perfect synchronicity whether we are dancing to Salsa, Tango, Bachata, Hip Hop, or anything with a beat, really. When we are off the dance floor, we create our own music, and Rafael is just as slick.

“It is very romantic,” I answer him, after we kiss for ten or fifteen minutes. “Thank you for such a wonderful gift,” I add. “I can’t wait to spend the next few days alone with you.”

“Happy Anniversary, Baby!” Rafael says. “A whole year together, can you believe it?”

While I hate to admit it, I really can’t believe it. And honestly, we’ve been dating much longer than a year. This whole anniversary thing marks the day that he asked me to be his girlfriend. Being such a commitment- phobe, it took me quite a bit of time before I could utter the word “boyfriend” comfortably. Rafael is incredibly patient with me.

“You’re shivering, Babe. Let’s go inside,” he suggests, without waiting for an answer to his question.

On the inside of the top deck, there are several roomy tables with enough space at each for an entire family.  The tables are lined up in two rows, filling the inside of the deck. There are windows along both sides of the boat that take a triangular form, the point of the triangle being the very front of the boat.

We ran around like children checking the different views from the various spots around the deck. It’s dark now, and we can’t really see anything but the ocean from anywhere on the boat. The island was not yet in sight, so it felt as though we were in the middle of the ocean.

It was just the two of us and the wide, open ocean. Oh, and the third passenger who had taken a seat right at the point of the triangle. That was a wise choice on his part; he must have done this before. It’s the best view on the whole boat, or at least it was before it got dark.

The man pulled out his laptop and a bag of chips. We assume he is traveling on business because he looks so bored and unhappy. How could he be unhappy on an almost private yacht headed toward an island? OK, it’s not quite a yacht but in my overactive imagination, it is.

We sit a little further back at one of the large tables and spread out as though we were at home. Why not? It’s not as though anyone cares. I rest my head on Rafael’s lap and curl up into the fetal position. Rafael starts to pat my hair but I smack his hands away. I’m not a dog. Sometimes he can take the romantic stuff a bit too far.

While I start to drift off into a peaceful sleep, the waves roll in and out, gently under the boat. The boat was too big to get rocked much by the waves.

“I could be a sailor,” I think to myself. This is the life!

Chapter 4: On The Island

“How could you choose a hotel without bathtubs?” I ask, trying not to show much disappointment. 

Rafael did, after all, book several days of wonderful activities ranging from kayaking to zip-lining. It seems harsh to criticize such kindness. Still, my legs are recovering from a stupid sports injury and soaking them in hot water was all I could think about on our drive this morning. My one-bedroom house is cute, but it only has a shower. No bath. I love baths.

“It’s an eco-friendly island!” Rafael exclaims as though it were an answer.

“So?” I ask, searching his face for better logic than trying to save the environment. My legs are killing me!

“None of the hotels on the island have baths. They are trying to conserve water,” he states with a tone of advocacy.

Mr. Thows-His-Plastic-Bottles-In-The-Trash-Because-80-Percent-Of-It-Winds-Up-In-The-Landfill-Anyway is suddenly eco-conscious. Lovely. Our super environmentalist friend back home, Melanie Talbott, would be thrilled.

“You’re trying to tell me that not one hotel on this whole island has a bathtub or hot tub? I’m not sure if I believe that,” I state, still trying to sound nice and sweet and not like a whiney, unappreciative witch, but it’s hard.

The long drive and last minute traveling arrangements seriously wore me out. Plus, I’m starving, which I won’t mention to Rafael. The bath is much more important.

“I’ll go ask if there are any baths on the island,” Rafael says in appeasement.  

“Thank you!” I cheer in sincere appreciation.

I realize that I’m being a little difficult, but I’m sore, OK? The hot water would relieve this pain.  After playing three hours of Rugby last Sunday with some serious athletes and personal trainers (yeah, what was I thinking?), I was a little sore the next day. By “a little sore” I mean that I couldn’t walk. Rafael, who is one of these crazy athletes, was just as sore as I was, which was a good thing because then I didn’t feel like such a loser for being ridiculously achy.

The smart things to do when sore include resting, toning down the workouts, stretching, maybe even icing a bit. I did none of those things. In fact, we decided to hike at Garrapata State Park, a long and somewhat strenuous trail in Big Sur the day after Rugby. Yes, my legs hurt like hell. No, I didn't stop. Why? I thought it would be a good idea to move my aching legs. My massage therapist, who also happens to be my mother, said it was the worst thing that I could have done for my legs. Of course it was. That is how I learn most of life’s lessons. The hard way.

I proceeded to attend my vigorous Zumba classes, taught by an adorable Mexican couple, Lucia and Miguel, for the rest of the week. They are also professional athletes; I’m surrounded by them. Yes, Zumba hurt. No, I didn’t stop. Do I have a brain in my head? That’s questionable.

So, now I’m still in pain, which is shocking, I know, and salivating over the idea of some warm water on my sore, sore, stupidly sore legs. But I won’t let it get to me for long. This is my vacation and I’m going to enjoy it whether my legs are in agreement with me or not.  Please, oh God, let there be a bath on the island.

“Ok, so there is one, luxury hotel with bathtubs on the island,” Rafael reports as he lets himself in with the hotel room key.

Yes! The idea of packing up and switching hotels races through my mind. I don’t want to look like I’m at all unhappy about the current accommodations, however, which might be painfully apparent despite my best efforts. I’m not so great at hiding things.

“The hotel with bathtubs happens to be the hotel that I already booked for later in our trip,” Rafael states, grinning with pride, secretly hoping that I’d shut up about the bathtubs for now.

 I forgot that he booked two hotels.  He booked one hotel because it came as a package deal, including numerous island activities. And he booked the other hotel because he knows I love luxurious hotels. I can’t help it. I do.

“Wonderful!” I state. “And I just love this hotel room!”

This is not a complete lie. I really do love our cute, beachy, eco-groovy hotel room.  I would just love it more with a bathtub.

“Let’s get this vacation started!” I say as we turn off the lights and get under the covers.

Please stay tuned to JQ TIME: A Blonde's Perspective to read about what happens once the couple leaves the hotel room. Things start to heat up when another man tries to hit on Jessica. Will Rapael knock him out? Tell him off? The answers are coming soon to this blog near you!