Alisa just noted that it's been a week since we left Valdivia. And in the timeless way of traveling on our own boat, the place we left behind seems a lifetime away. In that week we've seen blue whales and a dozen new species of birds. We've anchored in six places. We've tied to a commercial dock to make a crew change and watched a fishing boat power up hard against the lines that were holding it rafted behind us, only a meter or so from our solar panels and wind vane, an easy error by its captain or crew from doing real damage to us. I've driven the boat towards the shoals in an unknown anchorage on a falling tide and caught myself, thinking, you don't want to go aground here. I've used my broken Spanish for quick conversations with people we've run into on the beach. I've used that same broken Spanish to talk with a new friend, learning something about his life and life in his country.