We have been thinking about how different our life is here. (Sorry, no photos in this posting, just thoughts.) The obvious difference is that here we float, while at home we are land based. But there are many other aspects of this difference.
At home we look out from the seventh floor onto beautiful, gothic Grace Church. While the view changes with every change of the time of day, season and weather, as Monet illustrated with his many paintings at the Cathedral of Rouen, it is always Grace Church – our home does not move. And when we move, it is usually fast – by subway or automobile. Here we look out at a completely different landscape every time we drop anchor or take a mooring. Our house moves and seven knots (roughly 8 mph) is considered a high speed. And at home our life is urban while here, with the possible exception of our two days in Fort de France, Martinique, we are in small villages or towns or uninhabited rural bays.
At home we live in about 1150 square feet, a nice size for a one bedroom New York apartment. Here our boat is 43 feet long and 12 feet wide at its beamiest point. But the bow and stern are not living space, and more of the rear is our patio (the cockpit). With the average width of the interior living space at perhaps seven or eight feet, let’s say our home is 250 -300 square feet. But it seems roomy and there is storage space for more “stuff” if we want to bring it.
At home we never give any thought to the availability of water, cooking fuel, electricity or ice. They flow into our house in an inexhaustible supply and very inexpensively. Here we think a lot each of these commodities, checking our volt meter several times a day and conserving where possible. We use electricity to make water, and our engine and solar panels to make electricity and the engine and ice to keep our refrigerator cold. We buy ice and propane when needed because if you run out, you’re out.
At home we spend a lot of time on the computer, but access is never an issue and the speed is fast. Here getting the net in port is a struggle that we sometimes lose, and when we win, the speed is sometimes slow and access fragile.
At home we work out in a gym; here our exercise consists of working on the boat -- “wipe on; wipe off.”
At home considerable time is spent going to movies, lectures, plays, concerts, dance recitals, art galleries, and other cultural events. Here there is virtually none of that. On April 1st we went to our first movie since October 2010. On the other hand, at home we watch TV while here we read. And at home we do not get to swim and snorkel and take outdoor showers whenever we want, like we do here.
At home we have closets full of clothing and we take it to the dry cleaners from time to time. Here we have a few long sleeve and long leg pants that hang in a closet unused (no ties! no sports jackets! No dry cleaners!). And when we come home for the summer, we will bring half of our shorts and tops – and leave them home next fall because we don’t need that many here for next winter. At home we do our own laundry in the laundry room of our house and our per load cost is ridiculously low-- Lene washes and I fold. Here our laundry is taken away and brought back cleaned, dried and folded, but expensive.
At home Anna comes once a week for half a day and cleans our home. Here, unlike the laundry, this is a “do it yourself” task. And with so much living in such a small space (and with cats), housecleaning must be done at least every other day. And we have no dishwasher here like we do at home.
At home we give little time or attention to our food. We dine out in any number of places with a wide variety of cuisines and price ranges within easy walking distance of our house. Here most of the restaurants serve either Caribbean of American food and, with the exception of some experiments and fine dining on French islands, most of which have been documented in prior postings, the food is wholesome but not memorable.
Likewise, at home there are five supermarkets within five blocks of our house, some are open 24/7 and one can get virtually any fresh or packaged foodstuff to cook at a reasonably low price. And we have a chef, Iwona, who comes to our home every couple of weeks and cooks up a whole lot of great food that we eat during the next week – yes, leftovers, but delicious. Here one must dink ashore, the markets have limited offerings and the prices are higher because most food is imported by sea (though you can’t beat the mangos or the tomatoes). Lene has rediscovered her love of cooking and we haven’t gone hungry at all.
At home there are two locks on our front door and you have to get past the 24/7 doormen to get to that door. Here we have a padlock that any determined thief could cut through in less than a New York minute (or worse, smash through the hatch boards causing damage in less time than that). And in some harbors we rely on solitude, or there are boat boys who are supposed to look out for our boats or guards on marina docks.
At home, if things break, the building’s handymen are there to fix them or recommend repair services for those they can’t fix themselves. Here, fixing things is part of our job, and if we can’t do it, we look for someone who can, or simply do without or work around the inoperable system until later. Example: the built in battery operated push button electric stove and oven igniter has been broken all trip; instead we have used a long handled propane lighter; the repair of the built in lighter is a summer project.
At home the sources of anxiety include the potential for terrorist attacks or planes falling from the sky. Here we don’t worry about these things. Nor, despite some friends’ urgings, do we worry about sharks or tidal waves or pirates. But here we do worry about risks that are much more likely to happen than terrorist attacks: breaking off from our mooring, dragging our anchor, being hit by other boats (especially at night though we always leave a light on) or developing a leak and sinking.
At home weather is a minor concern. The issues are temperature and the likelihood of rain, with reasonably detailed, accurate and understandable forecasts universally available so we can know what clothing to wear and whether or not to bring an umbrella. Here, precipitation and temperature are less of a concern but wind speed and direction and wave height and direction are important and forecasts are difficult to come by, and when obtained, more difficult to interpret.
There is a spiritual component to our life on the water. It is more apparent to us here than it is at home… more easily accessed. We wake up every morning, basically, in a picture postcard. God’s beauty is evident everywhere. We are very grateful for the joys and serenity that we have been blessed with.
At home most of our friends are of long standing, decades long relationships and they are good loyal friends who we cherish. And it is difficult to find the time and motivation to make new ones. Here we are far from these friends. Here the people we meet are from all over the world, England, Denmark, Australia, Canada, France and Germany as well as islanders and families from throughout the United States. Friendships are, of necessity, made very quickly and people help each other without hesitation. We hope to maintain and nurture these relationships with our new friends into the future.
At home we are usually gone off in different directions and engaged in different activities most of the waking hours of the day. Here we are together essentially 24/7. We are truly dependant on one another for security…a feeling of safety…a trust that we are there for each other…the feelings of self worth and appreciation that often are derived from others comes from mainly one source here: each other.
At home our lives are calendared and planned with appointments and activities every day and our lives are rushed. Here we move at a much slower pace and are more often living in the moment. It is all happening today, not tomorrow. We wake up and later decide where or whether to move to a different anchorage. We really, most of the time, don’t even know what day of the week it is.
We have many marvelous devices that make it many times easier to sail than it was 100 or even 40 years ago. These include a GPS enabled electronic chart plotter that actually shows our position accurately on the chart, cell phones that receive email anywhere on or near shore, radios, life saving equipment, a water maker, an engine in case the wind should die by a lee shore, a windlass to raise and lower the heavy anchor and its chain, and an electric winch to hoist the big mainsail. Yet despite all of these modern wizardly marvels, we live a rugged, challenging, spartan and primitive life here as compared to at home.
We love our life afloat and despite the allures of this summer (allures of being at home), we look forward to returning for six more months of life afloat next winter.
No comments:
Post a Comment