Sweden or Bust!
"We're going to see the Vasa."
-"Oooh, I just hear that name and I shudder.
Do it again."
"The Vasa."
-*shivers*
"The Vasa! The Vasa! The Vasa!"
June 2018 Sailor convinced me that it was worth doing something
I'd always dreamed about
but never assumed could/would ever happen.
Summer Solstice Sunrise
from within Stonehenge.
It was *literally* magical.
Now, it's time for him to do something he's always wanted to do.
Voyage to visit the Vasa.
So,
We just booked our travel to Sweden.
Via Iceland
We loved our short stay in Reykjavik December 2021...
our first big trip "after" the pandemic.
Reykjavik's winter climate,
landscape,
and population
were almost exactly like "home"
(Sailor and I's shared home city).
Basalt tundra?
I see you.
I KNOW you.
Except everything was more expensive
(island life)
there is a kitsch museum on every block downtown
and hot springs/thermal baths
pretty much less than 15 minutes from anywhere.
Fair trade, Reykjavik.
Stockholm?
I have an acquaintance I'd like to visit
and a long list of museums I plan to enjoy.
Friends.
Museums.
Libraries.
Cemeteries.
Sailor visits any/every maritime museum he can find.
Sailor is, you guessed it
a sailor.
A tall-ship sailor, actually.
There is a small group of about 2000 people
worldwide who at any given time
are working as sailors on a historic tall ship.
Generally they work for museums who maintain the ship.
And like sailors of old they have no health insurance,
and are mostly paid with room and board.
So... uh.... wow.
That's dedication.
He's in this video of his home ship
(which was also his training ship)
which he also carved the name board for.
He is also a boat builder.
Master woodcarver.
and generalized shipwreck aficionado.
In New York City we visited the Peking
(I'd highly recommend the linked video..
whether or not you have a half hour to watch the whole thing)
In Boston he visited the Constitution.
In San Francisco he visited the Balaclutha.
In Portsmouth we visited Victory and the Mary Rose.
Wherever he goes...
he finds the local traditional/historic boats.
It's what he do.
15+ years ago,
when my best friend was a-courtin' Sailor
we drove to Seattle to see him
at some Maritime festival or another.
I should go back to find my entry
because I'm like,
"Who is this into boats?"
Sailor is.
And I get it now.
Love is funny.
There is a weird dissonance
when I think about upcoming trips
to faraway (from us) lands.
1. Excitement/joy
2. Surprise
3. Embarrassment
4. A wish that we had time to stay in places longer,
... to settle in for weeks or months.
Whirlwinds are not my style.
So much gets lost in translation
for so long.
Our car broke down a few weeks ago,
probably for the last time.
We've been budgeting for its replacement.
When the ticket prices fell,
Sailor and I agreed
We'd rather drive a beater without a heater
(which is generally important
in a place whose winter weather mirrors Iceland's...)
than forgo an affordable trip
to fulfill a dream.
There are two major talks I've been having with friends
over the last two years:
1. How to cope with loss of the you you knew
and accept the new you, you're just now meeting.
ie: me and my friends.... we're all getting old!
2. The dangers of not believing in/pursuing your own hopes and dreams.
ie: mid-life existential crises are real
Sailor is afraid of watching his dad,
and so many professional men wait for retirement,
but their bodies are so broken,
their spirits so tired
that their on-time retirement is bleak and bland.
I have the same fear,
from the other end.
I don't want to wait... to live.
Just in general.
A few years ago my mother gave me my childhood medical records.
Between birth and year 3,
in the doctors notes
you could hear how astounded they were
that I:
1. survived
2. was not mentally impaired
3. could walk
And even more so,
they were boggled by the fact
that I:
1. thrived
2. was actually intellectually bright
3. could run/play quite normally
My life
(and my mobility)
feels like a gift.
It almost always has.
I didn't get to travel much when I was young.
I first flew on a plane when I was 21.
I didn't travel outside of North America until I was 35.
But I always wanted to.
And so now,
I am.
I *get* to.
It's a privilege to be alive,
to be capable,
to be willing,
to be able.
I have those things *now*.
The future?
I don't know about that.
So I don't procrastinate
when it comes to
enjoying
my
joy.
-"Oooh, I just hear that name and I shudder.
Do it again."
"The Vasa."
-*shivers*
"The Vasa! The Vasa! The Vasa!"
June 2018 Sailor convinced me that it was worth doing something
I'd always dreamed about
but never assumed could/would ever happen.
Summer Solstice Sunrise
from within Stonehenge.
It was *literally* magical.
Now, it's time for him to do something he's always wanted to do.
Voyage to visit the Vasa.
So,
We just booked our travel to Sweden.
Via Iceland
We loved our short stay in Reykjavik December 2021...
our first big trip "after" the pandemic.
Reykjavik's winter climate,
landscape,
and population
were almost exactly like "home"
(Sailor and I's shared home city).
Basalt tundra?
I see you.
I KNOW you.
Except everything was more expensive
(island life)
there is a kitsch museum on every block downtown
and hot springs/thermal baths
pretty much less than 15 minutes from anywhere.
Fair trade, Reykjavik.
Stockholm?
I have an acquaintance I'd like to visit
and a long list of museums I plan to enjoy.
Friends.
Museums.
Libraries.
Cemeteries.
Sailor visits any/every maritime museum he can find.
Sailor is, you guessed it
a sailor.
A tall-ship sailor, actually.
There is a small group of about 2000 people
worldwide who at any given time
are working as sailors on a historic tall ship.
Generally they work for museums who maintain the ship.
And like sailors of old they have no health insurance,
and are mostly paid with room and board.
So... uh.... wow.
That's dedication.
He's in this video of his home ship
(which was also his training ship)
which he also carved the name board for.
He is also a boat builder.
Master woodcarver.
and generalized shipwreck aficionado.
In New York City we visited the Peking
(I'd highly recommend the linked video..
whether or not you have a half hour to watch the whole thing)
In Boston he visited the Constitution.
In San Francisco he visited the Balaclutha.
In Portsmouth we visited Victory and the Mary Rose.
Wherever he goes...
he finds the local traditional/historic boats.
It's what he do.
15+ years ago,
when my best friend was a-courtin' Sailor
we drove to Seattle to see him
at some Maritime festival or another.
I should go back to find my entry
because I'm like,
"Who is this into boats?"
Sailor is.
And I get it now.
Love is funny.
There is a weird dissonance
when I think about upcoming trips
to faraway (from us) lands.
1. Excitement/joy
2. Surprise
3. Embarrassment
4. A wish that we had time to stay in places longer,
... to settle in for weeks or months.
Whirlwinds are not my style.
So much gets lost in translation
for so long.
Our car broke down a few weeks ago,
probably for the last time.
We've been budgeting for its replacement.
When the ticket prices fell,
Sailor and I agreed
We'd rather drive a beater without a heater
(which is generally important
in a place whose winter weather mirrors Iceland's...)
than forgo an affordable trip
to fulfill a dream.
There are two major talks I've been having with friends
over the last two years:
1. How to cope with loss of the you you knew
and accept the new you, you're just now meeting.
ie: me and my friends.... we're all getting old!
2. The dangers of not believing in/pursuing your own hopes and dreams.
ie: mid-life existential crises are real
Sailor is afraid of watching his dad,
and so many professional men wait for retirement,
but their bodies are so broken,
their spirits so tired
that their on-time retirement is bleak and bland.
I have the same fear,
from the other end.
I don't want to wait... to live.
Just in general.
A few years ago my mother gave me my childhood medical records.
Between birth and year 3,
in the doctors notes
you could hear how astounded they were
that I:
1. survived
2. was not mentally impaired
3. could walk
And even more so,
they were boggled by the fact
that I:
1. thrived
2. was actually intellectually bright
3. could run/play quite normally
My life
(and my mobility)
feels like a gift.
It almost always has.
I didn't get to travel much when I was young.
I first flew on a plane when I was 21.
I didn't travel outside of North America until I was 35.
But I always wanted to.
And so now,
I am.
I *get* to.
It's a privilege to be alive,
to be capable,
to be willing,
to be able.
I have those things *now*.
The future?
I don't know about that.
So I don't procrastinate
when it comes to
enjoying
my
joy.