So I will sit in one of the various cozy rooms on ship, look at the view, and concentrate on writing today. Internet access continues to be spotty, so actual communication with the rest of the world may continue to be on hold until we are back in Trondheim.
I am currently in the Knut Hamsun room on deck 8. I thought I would prefer one of the forward rooms on this trip where you can see three sides, but I find this room and its parallel on the other side of the ship are where I sit most often. They are quieter and less populated. Usually there are a couple of groups of people playing cards, though I have yet to invite myself to join them. There is a German threesome playing something that I'm just sure would be a better game if they had a fourth, and some older folks have been playing bridge. I finally chatted with the bridge players last night and would love to swing an offer from them to continue teaching me how to play, as Dad was doing before he died. Those folks are Australian, so I can at least bid in the same language.
I am finding my understanding of German has improved since my first couple of days here, and I utter a phrase or two where I can. English is so pervasive, though, that it is really my own drive to speak something other than English and not necessity that creates opportunities.
Last night our dinner companion, Pauline, opened up to us about her many years of travel and some of the adventures she has had in India, China, and dozens of other places. She is from Australia, and has been on every continent except Antarctica, which, at 70, she may do yet. Pauline is really amazing, having chosen at every turn to opt for adventure rather than certainty, and for learning how people really live rather than comfort. I felt very small in her presence, though she carries these experiences without hubris or grandeur, but simply as a privilege she has enjoyed and by which she has been humbled.
I was not well last night, less because of the rocky voyage and more because of the excess of food I have been consuming. I got up about 1 and decided to look for the Northern Lights (I did see a touch of them). I came up to the 8th deck and the forward lounge, which was dark and empty. I swear I was the only one awake on the ship. I was too creeped out to go outside, but it felt edge of the world enough in that big room looking out at the dark sea. Soon we approached a small town at which we docked for about 15 minutes. It was really cool to see the lights of the harbor appear out of the darkness and the searchlight from the ship scan the harbor and dock to assure a clear path to docking. I was texting back and forth with Eric a bit during this time, which made me feel connected and very alone at the same time. In the end, the quiet of the ship was hypnotic, and I may make another late night excursion to the upper decks tonight.
I realized in Ireland that I am not good at seeing things for a bit and moving on, so I am not hot to get out and explore the towns where we dock when we only have a couple of hours to do so (though I really liked Tromso). Being on the ship drinking coffee and watching this incredible landscape as we go by is more moving to me than the rush through a couple of streets of a town and a bit of shopping frenzy. The host of languages around me on ship is stimulating, and I continue to be amazed that the human race has spread to these remote shores and inhabited the tiniest coves for centuries in search of fish and a scrap of flatland. Now, of course, some of these areas are growing for the oil that is making Norway so rich in the world market, but I still find great inspiration and fascination at what spirit must have guided people in the most strenuous of circumstances to follow the reindeer or sail dark seas in wooden boats to populate the edges of the mountains and seas.
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Location:Kirkenes, Norway
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