My first day aboard the legendary RV Heraclitus! Upon waking I stand on deck surveying the monstrous cruise ships towering over our humble vessel here in the port of San Juan, Puerto Rico. In my mind, the open ocean beckons. After breakfast I already feel like a sailor as I climb the metal framework of the gallery to scrub the tall wooden shelves. Energy is high as we clean, organize, and prepare for our rapidly-approaching departure to the Dominican Republic. As I hear the generator roar into life, I can't wait for the adventure.
Day 2: 16 March 2010
I am told that we have "lab" this morning. Images from my past "lab" experiences come flooding back: gingerly stirring flasks of boiling chemicals balanced on Bunsen burners as the professors impatiently remind us to never pour an acid into a base (or was it a base into an acid?). I am relieved when "lab" turns out to mean arranging ourselves on comfortable cushions for a 45-minute group meditation. This experience opens me up to the synergy that continues throughout the day-- cleaning and doing chores naturally flows in a way that allows me to use my energy to the fullest extent possible. The crew attends a final open-mic poetry and music session at the Poet's Passage as a soulful closing of the day.
Day 3: 17 March 2010
We work to define our roles on the ship. I am a bit surprised when Christine already senses my strengths and skills without having to discuss it. My job is to keep the galley and living area in order, clean and healthy. Meanwhile Captain Clauss busies himself with ordering the ship's necessary missing parts and fuel for the voyage, and helps repair the sails. Antonio shows me how to run the generator, a grumbling beast of a machine that shakes and roars into life. I also learn how to perform a DO (Deck Officer) check, recording the air and water temperatures, wind speed and direction, pressure, and state of the lines tethering us to the dock. I relish the constant rush of learning required to become a crew member but must experiment with finding time for myself amidst the intensity.
Day 4: 18 March 2010
Today is a day of coming and going-- Eddie and Patty return to the ship after a break, while Juju and Dario enjoy their last day onboard for awhile. Juju and I talk about how the ship has a soul of its own, but that the atmosphere of the ship is in constant flux as crew members arrive and leave again, each contributing a unique pattern of energy and skills. The Heraclitus creaks and groans all night, whispering stories of adventures had. Through the years I sense that magic has sunk through the wooden floorboards and seeped into cracks in the walls. It is at once a living memory of its past and a vessel to propel us into the future, but most of all it is a timeless presence that teaches us its reality if we act with it and listen.
Day 5: 19 March 2010
The heat has crept into our heads a bit as we struggle to chug liters and liters of water, sweating it all out immediately. The concrete sidewalks and streets of Old San Juan that surround our boat reflect the powerful tropical sunrays back at us. The Heraclitus offers no shelter from the beating intensity since it is made of cement. Essentially we are living inside of a sidewalk. At night I decide to sleep on deck, letting the fresh ocean breeze carry away the heat and mosquitos, a refreshing change from my comforting but sticky bunk. Another fiery challenge presents itself when I burn my hands cutting habanero peppers. My hands feel like they are on fire for two hours as Christine helps me cover them in various substances to no avail-- I try burn cream, homeopathic ointment, flour, and tomato paste (suggested by bewildered ice cream-eating passerbys watching the flour-pouring incident on deck). Finally I dunk my hands in milk and the burning immediately subsides. What did I learn? Always wear gloves when cutting hot peppers, and thank a cow.
Day 6: 20 March 2010
We clean up from a beautiful thank-you and farewell party hosted on the ship last night. We laid out beautiful carpets and cushions on deck along with our collection of musical instruments from around the world. As more and more people leaped over the precipice from the sidewalk to the deck, the magic increased. We had incredible conversations, we ate delicious food, we drank, we danced, we made music and magic. Towards the end of the night a circle of a dozen people formed each contributing their own guitar, drum, rhythm, or singing part to a continuous masterpiece. I bathed in the music, acknowledging the creative power of a piece played only in the present-- without past rehearsal and without a recording for future enjoyment. These moments are life, pure and mind-blowing.
The heat has crept into our heads a bit as we struggle to chug liters and liters of water, sweating it all out immediately. The concrete sidewalks and streets of Old San Juan that surround our boat reflect the powerful tropical sunrays back at us. The Heraclitus offers no shelter from the beating intensity since it is made of cement. Essentially we are living inside of a sidewalk. At night I decide to sleep on deck, letting the fresh ocean breeze carry away the heat and mosquitos, a refreshing change from my comforting but sticky bunk. Another fiery challenge presents itself when I burn my hands cutting habanero peppers. My hands feel like they are on fire for two hours as Christine helps me cover them in various substances to no avail-- I try burn cream, homeopathic ointment, flour, and tomato paste (suggested by bewildered ice cream-eating passerbys watching the flour-pouring incident on deck). Finally I dunk my hands in milk and the burning immediately subsides. What did I learn? Always wear gloves when cutting hot peppers, and thank a cow.
Day 6: 20 March 2010
We clean up from a beautiful thank-you and farewell party hosted on the ship last night. We laid out beautiful carpets and cushions on deck along with our collection of musical instruments from around the world. As more and more people leaped over the precipice from the sidewalk to the deck, the magic increased. We had incredible conversations, we ate delicious food, we drank, we danced, we made music and magic. Towards the end of the night a circle of a dozen people formed each contributing their own guitar, drum, rhythm, or singing part to a continuous masterpiece. I bathed in the music, acknowledging the creative power of a piece played only in the present-- without past rehearsal and without a recording for future enjoyment. These moments are life, pure and mind-blowing.
1 comments:
wow, what an amazing and exciting first few days aboard! A well written and engaging journal,I look forward to updates:). Can't wait until it's me also on board writing my own stories:)
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