Those faraway places
I’ve been reading about
In a book, that I took from a shelf
I start gettin’ restless whenever I hear
Sometimes it amazes me really just the crazy turn my life took three years ago when I walked up that gangway. I’d seen nothing, I knew nothing of the world except for the tiny little sphere I’d explored, I didn’t know anything about anyone outside my field, I could navigate a London underground yes, but anyone could do that given practice.
And here I am, sitting at a desk watching the sun set over Montenegro…
How do you …get…to that? I mean, I can’t really trace the steps that got me here. If you were to ask me a few years ago what I would be doing with my life, this wouldn’t have been my answer. Not by a long shot. I’m not sure what my answer would have been, but it wouldn’t have been this. Over the years, things have become ‘ordinary’ to me that would be completely extraordinary to most people, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate them. Just because I often choose to read a book or take a nap instead of heading out into port doesn’t mean that I’m not insanely grateful for where I am, it just means that given enough time you can get used to almost anything. But every so often you have these lightning bolt moments of ‘whoa…how did I get here.’
They kind of hit out of the blue those moments, and I never quite get used to them.
So here we are, chugging slowly out of Kotor, or at least we will be in a few minutes, if my guess is correct our last tender is likely just pulling alongside – bringing the last of the guests home safely. This still remains my favourite time of night, particularly if I have a good book to get into while it’s quiet up here. Also, much as I’m grateful for Shadow, I’m glad tonight is her night off as she has a tendency to be a bit…too giddy sometimes. I can see a lot of myself in her, the way I was, before the sea washed away my hard edges and left that protective layer of salt on my skin – it will be interesting to see how she goes in this. I suspect she’ll do well, once she stops learning to take things personally. Sayeth the kettle to the pot.
She’s already learning the hard way how fast the rumour mill starts out here. You speak to someone and the next day you’ll hear that you apparently spent the night with them. As I’ve said in the past, it makes high school look like a game of Chinese telephone. And sometimes the guests are no better than the crew. But that’s just part of life out here. Even me, who spends three quarters of her time in her room with her embroidery and her books, has heard her fair share of rumors about herself. It always leaves me slightly befuddled and amused by this point.
Eight and a half more days left in the countdown, and it’s still officially driving me crazy – though I’m trying not to think about it, because I know if I plan it too much it will all go wrong. And every so often I’m struck by the fact that everyone will be reading this after the fact, and how odd that is…