Atlantic Sea Crossing

Days are starting to blur together as I hold on tight feeling the roller coaster ride sensation as motor yacht Kismet bounces and dives with the never-ending swell of the Atlantic Ocean, trying my best not to get queasy. I can feel my insides stay put while my body hovers and fall and gives way to the ship's movements. Giving up the desire for control, I stop resisting and let myself be flung weightlessly to the ocean’s demise, walking sideways and zig-zag down the corridor, jumping then running down the stairs, grasping strongly to the hand rail knowing that it's the only thing that we keep me in one spot. The small port-hole window next to my top bunk bed switches from dark ocean, to bright sky, to white sea spray in matters of seconds and then continually repeats with an occasional POW of a pounding crash of water against the hull. Although the Kismet has been across the Atlantic many times now I still fantasize that the water impact will come bursting into Cabin #8 and I've formed a little emergency plan in my head: First grab the radio next to my door and my life jacket in the closet, then run quickly down the hallway, alerting all in path. Yet, luckily, warm in my cabin, I continue to stare out my port-hole and wait to see fish as the live aquarium passes by. We have seen a few dolphins and turtles, still waiting on the whale though.

Trying to keep occupied really hasn’t been too hard since I’m the type of girl that can’t get enough free time and have LOVED this perfect prison to keep me focused on things I’ve been wanting to do for a while like learn Italian and read as many books as I can in these short 17 days. Sadly, coming from the generation of ADD, cell phones, facebook and many more distractions I find it hard to concentrate on one task most of the time and I end up running around to meet people, pick up odds and ends and never really stop during any of my leisure time. The physical act of travel, however, has this amazing ability to freeze time and as I’m sitting on an airplane, a bus or train or now, on a journey across the ocean by boat, there is positively no other place that I could be or thing I could do and finally I allow myself to breath, to sit back, relax and indulge in some of the simplest pleasures…like daydreaming, reading, writing and yes, italiano.

Yet, with this amazing amount of time for self-reflection and sharpening of my intellect, muscle atrophy is quickly setting in! We, our stewardess crew of 3 girls, only have to do a measly 4-hours of work a day cleaning up the main crew areas, laundry, etc. (aka. cleaning up after the boys!) I’m not complaining, it’s great and easy, but other than that it’s bed, deck (if it’s sunny), bed, deck (for sunset), bed and then the day begins again. This could be recipe for a large derrière but luckily I’m taking precautions by forbidding myself to eat chocolate, to not snack between meals, and yes, there is a exercise bike on board but that task still sounds a bit daunting as we tumble and rumble across the Atlantic. I might just wait to take a stroll down Las Ramblas or a nice jog along the beach once we arrive in Barcelona. Street wandering through Gaudi’s living masterpiece sounds like a much more appealing form of self-preservation.

Until then, I will continue to cherish the sunsets and the sheer enormity of nothing but endless ocean for as far as the eye can see. I wish you all could be with me