WRITTEN: July 30, 2010
We have arrived! I have arrived! The most I have seen of Europe so far is this little piece of rock- Faial Island, town of Horta in the Azores. And already I am in love! The sight of land yesterday – the first island we saw was Corvos as we were entering the island chain- was strange to me, foreign, a bit daunting. The sight of land meant change and having to leave the belly of Duckie- Whale, it meant a change in my rhythm of life that was beginning to produce some real flow in the writing of the book, some real sturdiness in my sea legs. Now I have to try on my land legs again. Will they still work?
But, ah, now that I am on land and almost in Europe to boot- the taste of the coffee, served in little white ceramic cups...Sical sugar label on the side...The pinched-lipped way the Portuguese people speak, I take it all in. I have already learned a few words. At least now I know if I ever wanted to stay in Brazil, Azores, Portugal or anywhere else that this language is spoke, I would be able to pass with my Spanish and I would be able to learn Portuguese quickly. The Hortanos here are subtle, serious, hunble, quiet. They are steeped in culture but they do not need to flaunt it, just as one has an arm but doesn’t need to necessarily announce its presence. It is as ordinary and common as that, the way of these simple-speaking, conservatively-dressed folks.
I am in love with the soft bread and in love with the sausage, chorizo, that come in many shades of red. Yesterday, over a glass of red wine, I got the urge to cook. Abi, our galley manager, had pulled fish out for dinner, don’t ask me the name, I don’t know except that it was big and round and blue! And the local wine, good and cheap, had gotten ahold of me. It made me look up a recipe in The Joy of Cooking for whole fish. I found one that used capers, onions, red pepper, garlic, thyme, parsley and, of course, red wine. Perfect! I stuffed the whole fish with it and poured the sauce over it as well. It bubbled and simmered as the captain came in to check on its progress. He picked a piece and, in his usual stiff-lipped yet ironic way, said that it was official done. Then he helped himself to three more bites. I served it with rice and potatoes and sprouts that I had grown in the little room attached to the engine room, where it is dark and cool most of the time.
Wow, that night we were all satiated by the beautiful evening. After dinner, we sat around the rope lights on deck and drank more wine and jammed on instruments- Juanito my mate on the watch on guitar along with a French guy who also played an invisible trumpet with his voice. Rio was on harmonica, Mo on gourd rattle and Eddie and I were on drums. We rocked out when Jaunito played Manu Chou and sat in delighted silence as the French guys sang quirkly little ditties in their native language that were incomprehensible to me, yet light as rain. And to top it off, tomorrow I go to my little room in the Senora’s house to write. It is on the third floor and a half block from Pim Beach, where they rake the sand every evening and in the morning the water is aqua-blue. Tiny fish swim by your fish as you dip your toes in. I cant wait to take a chunk out of my masters thesis writing project which is due at the end of the month and also to simply do nothing but walk, swim, eat and write. Sounds good to me!
--- ---- ----
WRITTEN: July 22, 2010
Chaos and confrontation on the ship. Every moment is an opportunity for connection or control- I guess it is a C word kind of day. For some reason, in the quiet times, I have been thinking about the years I taught kindergarten and how we use to focus on a letter a week. For five days in a row, my brain was filled to the brim with bananas, bows, bark from trees, bunnies, beetles, brains, bowls, etc.. So, today is a C day. Chaos. Confrontation. Control. Compassion. Circus. All these words describe the 10 other people who live in very close quarters to each other here on the ship.
And here the ocean is trying to teach us something and we get it sometimes in fits and starts. Most of the time, though, we are too preoccupied F words- flesh, fighting, fucking, feasting, filming (that’s for Rio, the official ship photographer). It is love/lust, hate/violence, frustration/compassion, all the violent, raw, real things of life here on earth, just compacted down into a 92 by twenty space. Here you see people at their best- lending a hand to lead someone into the bathroom as they are puking in the middle of a storm, holding a cup while someone climbs the steep galley stairs to eat lunch on deck- and their worst- the bickering that goes on and on (and on and on and on…- he didn’t wash his dish, she didn’t flush the toilet all the way, blah, blah, blah…) the fighting and the gossiping behind everyone’s back. No one is immune. In the groggy morning, when most of the time I am wide awake after consuming my black or green tea with milk powder, I have the job of waking most of the rest of the crew up. I am witness to them rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, bolting out of bed with looks of total confusion on their faces, their grumbling words (which I just assume are cuss words). I serve them coffee and hot chocolate, muffins and eggs and then clean up after them. I am happy to do it too, if it will bring a smile to their faces just for a little while, and sometimes it does.
The dolphins that play along the bow almost every morning that the Heraclitus is under sail are always reminding us to laugh and smile and to not take it all too seriously.
When we spotted a whale the other day, we all leaned against the railing like children as the massive beast spewed seawater twenty feet into the air. We gasped oohhhs and ahhhs and began making mock whale noises that most of us learned from repeated viewings of Finding Nemo. We saw the mama sperm whale under the water as she made her way towards us and swam directly under the bow. Her white spots sparkled transluscent blue under the water and her dark body was in shadow. How did she know she could get so close and she would not be shot, that she would not be stabbed to death like some humans do? Maybe she sensed that we would do no harm.
=== ==== ==== ====
We have arrived! I have arrived! The most I have seen of Europe so far is this little piece of rock- Faial Island, town of Horta in the Azores. And already I am in love! The sight of land yesterday – the first island we saw was Corvos as we were entering the island chain- was strange to me, foreign, a bit daunting. The sight of land meant change and having to leave the belly of Duckie- Whale, it meant a change in my rhythm of life that was beginning to produce some real flow in the writing of the book, some real sturdiness in my sea legs. Now I have to try on my land legs again. Will they still work?
But, ah, now that I am on land and almost in Europe to boot- the taste of the coffee, served in little white ceramic cups...Sical sugar label on the side...The pinched-lipped way the Portuguese people speak, I take it all in. I have already learned a few words. At least now I know if I ever wanted to stay in Brazil, Azores, Portugal or anywhere else that this language is spoke, I would be able to pass with my Spanish and I would be able to learn Portuguese quickly. The Hortanos here are subtle, serious, hunble, quiet. They are steeped in culture but they do not need to flaunt it, just as one has an arm but doesn’t need to necessarily announce its presence. It is as ordinary and common as that, the way of these simple-speaking, conservatively-dressed folks.
I am in love with the soft bread and in love with the sausage, chorizo, that come in many shades of red. Yesterday, over a glass of red wine, I got the urge to cook. Abi, our galley manager, had pulled fish out for dinner, don’t ask me the name, I don’t know except that it was big and round and blue! And the local wine, good and cheap, had gotten ahold of me. It made me look up a recipe in The Joy of Cooking for whole fish. I found one that used capers, onions, red pepper, garlic, thyme, parsley and, of course, red wine. Perfect! I stuffed the whole fish with it and poured the sauce over it as well. It bubbled and simmered as the captain came in to check on its progress. He picked a piece and, in his usual stiff-lipped yet ironic way, said that it was official done. Then he helped himself to three more bites. I served it with rice and potatoes and sprouts that I had grown in the little room attached to the engine room, where it is dark and cool most of the time.
Wow, that night we were all satiated by the beautiful evening. After dinner, we sat around the rope lights on deck and drank more wine and jammed on instruments- Juanito my mate on the watch on guitar along with a French guy who also played an invisible trumpet with his voice. Rio was on harmonica, Mo on gourd rattle and Eddie and I were on drums. We rocked out when Jaunito played Manu Chou and sat in delighted silence as the French guys sang quirkly little ditties in their native language that were incomprehensible to me, yet light as rain. And to top it off, tomorrow I go to my little room in the Senora’s house to write. It is on the third floor and a half block from Pim Beach, where they rake the sand every evening and in the morning the water is aqua-blue. Tiny fish swim by your fish as you dip your toes in. I cant wait to take a chunk out of my masters thesis writing project which is due at the end of the month and also to simply do nothing but walk, swim, eat and write. Sounds good to me!
--- ---- ----
WRITTEN: July 22, 2010
Chaos and confrontation on the ship. Every moment is an opportunity for connection or control- I guess it is a C word kind of day. For some reason, in the quiet times, I have been thinking about the years I taught kindergarten and how we use to focus on a letter a week. For five days in a row, my brain was filled to the brim with bananas, bows, bark from trees, bunnies, beetles, brains, bowls, etc.. So, today is a C day. Chaos. Confrontation. Control. Compassion. Circus. All these words describe the 10 other people who live in very close quarters to each other here on the ship.
And here the ocean is trying to teach us something and we get it sometimes in fits and starts. Most of the time, though, we are too preoccupied F words- flesh, fighting, fucking, feasting, filming (that’s for Rio, the official ship photographer). It is love/lust, hate/violence, frustration/compassion, all the violent, raw, real things of life here on earth, just compacted down into a 92 by twenty space. Here you see people at their best- lending a hand to lead someone into the bathroom as they are puking in the middle of a storm, holding a cup while someone climbs the steep galley stairs to eat lunch on deck- and their worst- the bickering that goes on and on (and on and on and on…- he didn’t wash his dish, she didn’t flush the toilet all the way, blah, blah, blah…) the fighting and the gossiping behind everyone’s back. No one is immune. In the groggy morning, when most of the time I am wide awake after consuming my black or green tea with milk powder, I have the job of waking most of the rest of the crew up. I am witness to them rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, bolting out of bed with looks of total confusion on their faces, their grumbling words (which I just assume are cuss words). I serve them coffee and hot chocolate, muffins and eggs and then clean up after them. I am happy to do it too, if it will bring a smile to their faces just for a little while, and sometimes it does.
The dolphins that play along the bow almost every morning that the Heraclitus is under sail are always reminding us to laugh and smile and to not take it all too seriously.
When we spotted a whale the other day, we all leaned against the railing like children as the massive beast spewed seawater twenty feet into the air. We gasped oohhhs and ahhhs and began making mock whale noises that most of us learned from repeated viewings of Finding Nemo. We saw the mama sperm whale under the water as she made her way towards us and swam directly under the bow. Her white spots sparkled transluscent blue under the water and her dark body was in shadow. How did she know she could get so close and she would not be shot, that she would not be stabbed to death like some humans do? Maybe she sensed that we would do no harm.
=== ==== ==== ====
posted by Nikki Lyn Pugh | 4:09 PM
1 Comments:
What a wonderful adventure, Nik. And, your writing is amazing. The sea is good for you. Have fun in Europe!
Post a Comment
<< Home