Bahama Mama and Embarkation...

Day of Embarkation, February 4, 2007/February 5, 2007—
Nassau to Puerto Rico
2000

The past four days Mom and I have been in the Bahamas, we stayed on Paradise Island, but most enjoyed Nassau. Atlantis is the most awful creation South of Cape Canaveral… we had the most fun riding the buses and talking to our taxi drivers. Experiencing a place in the most real way possible is so much more remarkable. Seeing what the people who work at the resorts go home to, where they shop and hang out, even the cars they drive and the way they talk is really in some odd way wondrous. I like to imagine being part of a place, what it would be like to really live there. I like to taste the local flavor by absorbing details into all the buds of my senses. Bright hats stuffed with dreadlocks, dirty t-shirts “thug religion”, a newspaper on the floor of a bus, the voices, the sun and breeze.

We rode the water taxi across the inlet every day, and watching the ferry workers was a highlight—I even had a love affair with one of the ferry boys—ok, I’m exaggerating, but I swear he had a thing for me. Conch is okay, chewy like clam, not much flavor but supposedly it is an aphrodisiac—which the ferry boy liked—I’m exaggerating again. Guava Duff is wretched. The music was really captivating also. Driving with the windows open, a sea breeze blowing my hair back and the local reggae/rap/calypso music on the radio was almost sensory overload, but I craved it. The straw market was dense—hot and full of lots of tangible things nobody needs—we caved and bought awful knock off purses. More worthy of notice than the Channel knockoffs were the people, the old lady with a beautiful and gracefully aged face in a bright apron, the woman at the stand next to her who said to me “hunny, oohi’ve gawt a sayle for you today, suweety.” The people here are fun and happy. Hiding beneath the way they pimp themselves out to the tourists are intriguing characters.

Today I boarded the MV, which was a little stressful. Mom got to come on board for a little while, to see my room and wander around. We ran into the Archbishop, which was surreal and unexpected! I think I said in some sort of guffaw “huuuullllloooo” and then mom made the comment “you know most of these kids probably think he belongs in port.” Her flight left at 3:50, before we embarked. I know it was hard for her, which makes me sad, but I have so many other things on my mind that at that moment it was like every other “bye love you.” Lots of parents stayed to wave us off, which was uneventful for me. It seems like when there is such buildup to things, going to the high school, getting a drivers license, going to prom, graduation, college, they end up being a little disappointing. Or, maybe I am just silly and idealistic—say what???—and saw somewhere a whole wharf full of parents waving their beloved children out to sea. Regardless, standing on the top deck, at the front of the ship, as we slowly pushed away from the wharf, then through the inlet, and out to sea, I had a moment, to myself with my eyes closed, the rough ocean breeze blowing against my body and the sun fading but not set on my face. The waves are gentle but steady and a deep gray blue, so peaceful. The ship is gorgeous but too extravagant, I hadn’t expected such luxury, though I’m sure others had. There is a spa, a sports deck and pool, a bar, two dining halls—the food is delicious and healthy—a library, computer lab, etc. White lights chase the lines of the ship and really set the atmosphere. I am sure the stars will be unbelievable without the light pollution of cities.

What I’ve noticed the most, and early today, standing in line outside of the ship and what not, is that I really do appreciate this experience, and recognize it, as much as I can right now, to be a true opportunity to see and be part of, even if just for a moment, the world. I think there are handfuls of my contemporaries on this ship that are great people and as awed by the whole concept as I am. But, so many others seem to be caught up in socializing and competing for attention, their clothes and their hair straighteners, and it doesn’t seem like they are here for the same reasons I am. Their conversations and introductions—that won’t matter even three days from now—make up a constant whirr around me. I’ve never needed that whirr to feel sure; really it seems like a dangerous and false sense of security. I can feel the boat moving now, which makes me feel worlds away from home and everything familiar, but I feel sure of myself and person I am, and know that while I may not have a “direction” I do have a sense of self and an idea of life. Dissonance is crazy.

Classes start tomorrow, and tonight before I go to bed I have to set my clock ahead one hour, which will happen between most every port.

I miss you all, but I’m so thrilled to be where I am right now—I can’t even type the words to explain. It just feels right and necessary. In the words of a dear, dear friend—rock it, anchors away!

Spread your little wings and fly away…