During these first six months I have realised more than ever how much I like to travel, be on the move, discover new places. So yes, I am toying with new ideas for interesting journeys and adventures even whilst I am travelling and having an adventure. Twisted? Ask my therapist.
Travelling the way I do gives much opportunity for the unexpected to happen and mostly that’s positives. I meet someone by chance in an otherwise drab and boring place and suddenly that place isn’t so drab and boring anymore. An interesting motive around a corner that I just happened to turn for no particular reason. For me these perhaps are the greatest rewards of travelling.
Really nothing more than a little hobby, but I have started to enjoy shooting and editing my little clips and posting them on YouTube. I allow myself to abstain from any demand for professionalism, which is perhaps the very reason why I like it so much.
I consider myself very, very fortunate to have seen so much interesting fauna close-up in such a relatively short period of time: dolphins, sea turtles, the little guy above, a manta ray, murenas, barracudas, a tuna,… The latter provided a few rather fine dinners, actually.
Couldn’t come up with anything else on that letter. Don’t have it, never tried it. Could be helpful, though, every now and then. See “F”, for examples.
Of course the relationship to one’s boat is of a personal, intimate nature. We are doing eight knots, for example, not I or, heaven forbid, it. Because IDA is a lady with a great deal of personality, of course. She’s my good girl when she rode that beam-on wave without keeling over, pat on the cabin roof and all. But as in any healthy relationship that is based on co-dependency there’s always a shred of doubt: Has she successfully hidden some major flaw from me? Will she abandon me when I most need her? But then, by golly, am I faithful to her? As every boat owner proud of his vessel I secretly yearn for that one extra metre, I lustingly ogle other yachts, fatter and slimmer, older and younger ones alike.
Perhaps it’s ok for us because we both knew from the start that it would be “just-that-one-time” before we go our separate ways again…
Living for a year without any income whatsoever feels scary, believe me. The financial side of my one year sabbatical is disastrous, to say the least. On good days I just don’t think about it. On bad days I manage to settle into a mental state of ‘I-will-be-allright-somehow’. On worse days I actually open an Excel file named “Financial Plan” and tweak some numbers until the bottom line looks right. Reality will catch up soon enough, I trust.
But hey, one life, right?