Isn’t that how the song goes? No? Ah, well.
It took ten days, and 1,187 miles, but I have officially crossed an ocean. (Or enough of one to consider myself sea-worthy.)
I wrote some things down, on my Oceanic Journey, so I thought I might share them with you now:
Sailing at night is like living in Treasure Planet.
I feel like I acidentally walked into Pirate Radio, only I’m not a boy, I know who my father is and no one is obsessed with losing their virginity.
Nothing says “commitment” like a willingness to blow carrot chunks.
I am literally dreaming of meat. Delicious, greasy, sizzling meat.
“How’s the weather?” – totally *not* an innocuous question.
V.H.F. radio sometimes sound like a droid chorus. Or a symphony of Cybermen.
The boat is a mermaid singing Defying Gravity. I can hear it.
The mermaid boat is now singing Strawberry Fields by the Beatles, but it doesn’t seem to know all of the words.
I had a dream I was asleep in a submarine and when I woke up my bed was pink, the size of the entire room, and the wall was lined with bananas except for where there was a breadfruit the size of a mastiff.
Ship ovens are hypnotic. And nauseating.
Nothing says “I love you” like burning one’s skin off while using caustic chemicals to clean the deck.
There are fourteen different species of termite native to Fiji.
The mermaid is trying to play my ukulele.