Bosphorus

The Water Is Wide

When roses bloom in winter's gloom
Then will my love return to me.

No one has two signs. Zodiac signs, that is.

But if you were born within a few days of the sun's move from one zodiac sign to the next, this means you were born on the cusp.

So why do I bring up this topic of 'cusp' in a blog that is all about the water? Does this pique your interest?

That's great.

Hop aboard a private ferry in Istanbul with me. Sit down and have a listen. Are you ready for a short geography lesson?

This strait we're traversing is a geographical sort-of-cusp. The Bosphorus is the world's narrowest, twenty-mile long strait that joins the Sea of Marmara with the Black Sea. It separates the continents of Europe and Asia and separates Asian Turkey from European Turkey.

Useful info, isn't it? Try mentioning it casually at the water cooler in your office or in the dairy/cheese aisle at Fresh Thyme. I'm sure it will start a conversation. Or not.

Anyway, let's see the sights - there's the Topkapi and several Ottoman palaces, a mosque, the Selimiya Barracks where Florence Nightingale worked, and the Bosphorus Bridge.

And just look at the beautiful, green water - clear as glass, with pools of indigo blue in them that float like broken clouds of ink.

You can just watch.

We don't have to talk.

There's just being.

The river doing its river thing - moving slowly to wherever it goes, stretching to infinity it seems, and then coming back again. Don't you just now sense a new restless awareness in your heart?

Perhaps, it's the endless waves lapping and rocking against the boat.

Perhaps this is what creatures feel in those first days when dying winter starts to give way to spring.

Are you discerning it? It's like there's a string tied to your heart, as if it were a kite being tugged by a kite flier whose face you cannot see...

Yet.  

Gulf Of Alaska

The Water Is Wide

Give me a boat that can carry two
And both shall row, my love and I.

Do you know that Alaska is the 49th state to join the union?

Do you remember that 'Land of the Midnight Sun' is its nickname?

Have you wondered how it is to live in an igloo?

Or been curious as to how muktuk, a traditional food by the Eskimo and Inuit people, tastes like? (Hint: muktuk is thick slices of whale blubber and skin.)

Are you bemused as to why I'm starting off this post with four (okay, five) questions?

Oh, good.

It's because I'd like to talk about this cruise. My.First.Ever.

The family and a host of others who have signed up for 'The Ultimate Alaska Experience' are trekking into the untamed beauty of glacier-carved fjords surrounded by the forested wall of some 1,000 islands along the famed Inside Passage.

I know. I'm as excited as you.

The water, beautiful at this time of day, is cool and magically pale. Against the ship, waves break into foam and tumble in, one after the other. They keep coming in their soft way and skipping backward as we sail through a spectacle of idyllic coves and bays. The gulls above hang upon the wind and call to one another in shrill voices.

Then, as snow-covered mountain ranges glide along numerous glacier passes, everyone begins talking at once. High-pitched utterances of children, as well as those of some adults, resound in counterpoint like an obligato as sculpted rock walls, striated cliffs, and eroded hillsides start to come to view.

Are you gasping?

And then the ice sculpture...

Have I mentioned the ice sculpture?

They are deep cobalt blue in color, extending over 30 feet out of the water.

The hum of our voices has risen in crescendo like exclamation points looking at them stretch, like forever. Several have comically inclined their ears, as if to better hear the bubbling fizz from effervescent glaciers melting and cracking in spots.

Anyway. Awesome.

The sounds around me commingle into a canticle of hymn - beautiful, melodic, elongating into infinity.

Truth? It is all I can hear this night - my melody. In a boat that can carry two, my love and I. No, actually, not just two, but our family of four...

... And better still, an entire cruise ship of people who have made the day so full of sparkles I have to sing to the wide waters of the Gulf of Alaska.

Seine

The Water Is Wide

But love grows old and waxes cold
And fades away like the morning dew. 

I'm on the Bateaux Parisiens riverboat in Paris, France. Facing the Seine, I'm able to take in a better view of the city's illuminated waterfront sights.

Come sit by my forlorn self.

The night seems peaceful, the river asleep. From my side, I can see moonlight glittering off the fractured surface of the water.

On the open deck, small groups of people are exclaiming Ahs and interjections of Ooh-la-las as the Louvre museum, Musee d'Orsay, and the iconic Eiffel Tower float into view, as if through an invisible ocean of air dotted with stars. Here and there, some of them let out a breezy chuckle, stepping back theatrically as the Place de la Concorde drifts by, illuminated against the night sky.

Except...

... except on me, the lively chatter has dissipated. Don't you remember me saying I'm feeling pitifully sad?

Confession time: I want to mope. I want to go all ostrich and duck my head in the sand as soon as we dock (although I doubt if there is sand on the banks of the Seine.)

There is only silence. I hear nothing but the plaintive sighs of despair in the sky, the rattle of the night wind and in the space between the gusts, the muted sound of the river rushing past, a gently throbbing loneliness.

I feel unwanted. How did love ever grow old?

Perhaps, I can work on being more attractive. I'd drink eight glasses of water and wear leg warmers and do leg lifts and go all Jane Fonda. I'd add brussels sprouts to my favorite-foods list.

Or I can buy a new Marshall's outfit and practice different poses in front of the mirror: hold in my stomach, put my hand on my hips, turn slightly to the right, cross my legs, and make a fish face.

I can plan and dream. Perhaps I might succeed. Or perhaps... not.

I search for the splendor, but see only the darkness - so vast that it seems to stretch out forever, covering everything with indistinct gloom. I sink into my seat as the evening sags, as lonely evenings do.

It's shaping up to be a long night, and this one isn't over yet.

Manila Bay

The Water Is Wide

The haunting lyrics and imagery of The Water Is Wide, a folk song of Scottish origin, have inspired this series.

A ship there is, and she sails the sea.

Do you remember your Easter morning tradition as a youth?

Great! Me, too.

Mum and Dadee always brought a caravan of seven children to the sunrise service at the Luneta.

If you recognized the premise of 'caravan' and guessed the resultant scenario of me getting lost, you win a prize. That was because you thought about the November post Hold Hands And Stick Together, right?

Indeed, I had let go of Mum's hands once more, for I was transfixed on the gigantic white cross that stood on the central area of Rizal Park waiting for Christ to materialize and eventually rise to the heavens.

But this post dwells more on the happy after the lost-and-found scenario. Like all past Easter mornings, as soon as the faint strains of the Hallelujah chorus winged their way back toward heaven, we were off on a banca boat ride along Manila Bay.

Come along now, Mum tilted her head, shouting overly loud to her unruly brood.

The bay was a natural harbor that scooped around the city like a hug. Everything was set in the curved arch of the inlet: the Jai Alai center, Max's restaurant, and various commercial buildings strung together by a stretch of coconut trees. Along the loop of the waterfront, the curling ripples were rolling in with perfect innocence, running like children up the seawall.

It is a glorious scene, don't you agree?

From the marina, I gazed at the blossoming waves, gulls skimming the surface. The faint light of half a dozen shrimp boats, only big enough to fit two or three people, bathed on the water.

We boarded one of the docked double outrigger wooden crafts. It was motorized and held around fifteen passengers or so.

Come sit by me, Youngest Brother, I nodded toward him encouragingly. But keep your hands on your side or the 'bakunawa' sea serpent will get you, I warned him, trying to make my voice sound as authoritative as possible.

Sorry, it wasn't intentional.

It just came out.

I took every opportunity to gibe at The Brat, my flippant reference to my spoiled, youngest sibling.

He complained noisily to Dadee, but the latter simply grinned. The Brat gave me one of his infamous pouts. Your mouth is going to freeze lopsided that way, if you don't stop looking sulky, I threatened him. He immediately retracted his lips and cuddled closer to Mummie.

As we munched on our traditional Easter morning snack of hard-boiled eggs sprinkled with rock salt that Mum had packed, my eyes feasted on the reflection of the sky, a mingling of many colors. And then there was the color of the water itself.

Ever-changing.

I started dreaming of places I could go. The incredible life that was waiting behind the next curve. And the family (including Spoiled Brat) who would walk beside me every step of the way.

The air smelled so fresh I felt clean just by breathing in it. I closed my eyes and listened to the secret sound of the place where earth met the water. 

Sail on, I muttered, the ghost of a smile whispering over my lips.

Already, I knew how lovely the Easter morning was going to be. 

Live Another Sol

Surviving Waikiki

Sol 7

Today was like most yesterdays.

In the morning, coffee (fortunately not the freeze-dried type sucked with a straw) while reading 'generic metakernels.' (Aside: The latter expression is Houston lingo for data updates; in lay person language, email.)  Then, a routine walk on sandy space outside.

After that came the incredibly dull part of my day.

Free time in what seemed like microgravity environment.

I sat around for hours - reading and writing. It occurred to me: now that I might live, people would probably read this log, so I had to be more diligent and careful about what I recorded.

Then took a break to do zero-G backflips on a stand-up paddleboard. (Get off the floor. I was just kidding.) Edit that to say, 'watched a movie or two' until I'd watched everything on the deployment hard drive (free Roku, that is). But so do you, so don't judge.

Regarding food: I was going to rip my face off if I ate dehydrated chicken again. Aargh! Saved from self-destruction by canned Starkist. Tuna melt never tasted so good.

Tonight I was tired. Or perhaps, just lonely.

A gust of wind rushed past. Dark clouds hanging fat and heavy had started to release just enough drizzle, enticing me to cuddle in bed close to my pile of evac junk. I went to sleep.

Speaking of sleep... Good night.

Sol 8

Okay, I was a bit downhearted yesterday, but in truth, things were working for me on the whole. In fact, they were going great.

Despite the cooler days and intermittent rain, there were no discernible winds. All had been well. I'd even walked liquid-water side (by the ocean) and was on the lookout for any meteoroid seashells that had been tossed around recklessly.

Indeed, it was starting to look like I'd live another sol. (Aside: Don't you think Live Another Sol would be an awesome name for a James Bond movie?)

At lunch, I feasted on a full ration of just-bought BK whopper and a McDonald's McFlurry with oreos. Aw, yeah. Right. I could indulge once in a while.

After that, it was time to relax. I drifted off to dreamland in the best mood I'd been in since Sol 1.

By the way, Happy Valentine's Day.

Sol 9

My last entry. Last day of going solo.

I got up at 0700 hours, earlier than I needed to.

Station, this is Houston. Everything's on track to planned trajectory in T minus 40 minutes. Are you ready?

Affirmative.

I disassembled Command Center and set things in order.

We will proceed on schedule... mark.

Wow. Things really came along. It was like Christmas morning.

Eldest and Younger Daughters were undoubtedly celebrating the news of my survival. First Grandson got notification of his first piano recital. First Granddaughter turned seven. Second Granddaughter would be celebrating a 'half' toward her seventh birthday soon. And best of all, Hubby had come back.

Houston, shutdown complete. 

Roger that.

Command Center signing off. OVER AND OUT! 

Roving Mission

Surviving Waikiki

Sol 5

Be advised. The visual is GO today.

Roger. You're loud and clear, Houston.

It was time to emerge from the Command Center hub.

Sunshine today! The dawning day was a thing of beauty. All polished and clean, it looked like a just painted picture, the paint still wet. The clouds had dissipated, leaving a patchy blue sky. I didn't have to use a tether or additional anchors. The solar wind was calm. Not like the previous night.

Looking around, I saw that it had toppled a couple of old, huge kiawe trees to the ground at Kapiolani Park and pushed sand all the way to the Honolulu Zoo. But there were signs of life everywhere. The streets, ABC stores, people, and even the traffic all seemed strangely familiar.

The eagle landed... 

Er... actually a wild rooster pranced around. As in Neil Armstrong's metaphor, it was a celebration of the glow of a new morning.

Back in the hub, though still preoccupied with the looming reality of dwindling food supply, I carried on with routine maintenance and stuff. I was sick of thinking.

For after-dinner entertainment, I settled for TV reruns of Alfred Hitchcock shows from forever ago.

Sol 6

I slept in today. I deserved it.

I was going to start my Perfect Sol with a re-supply mission trip to Ross. (For those not in the know, Ross Dress For Less is reputedly the largest off-priced retailer in the US.)

Time to get ready. What?!! No water. Sigh... okay.

Houston. We have a problem.

Resuming service in 1200 hours.

Roger that.

That would be three hours from now. What could I do? The short answer was, Nothing. Seriously, that sucked.

Meanwhile, Scott wipes. Life saver.

P.S. The day did end up perfectly. Tuesday 10% Ross discount for... ahem... seniors.

Awesome.

(To be continued)

The Big Storm

Surviving Waikiki

Sol 3

I did a full diagnostic and systems check on my electronics. Twice. Everything was perfect. Including the fact that today was Saturday.

Shabbat Shalom. Peaceful Sabbath.

I'd always honored it by refraining from strenuous activity. Such as a routine walk or check on the outside of my station. I took it easy and merely updated this log and posted my scheduled blog.

No three-fourths food ration for today's lunch either. Hey, I earned it: spicy Thai chicken and rice, plus Kona coffee glazed macadamias for dessert with iced tea.

Truth. I was feeling pretty confident. I'd begun to think that I would be okay.

I caught up with A Million Little Things. I'd agree with Second Daughter that Delilah should quit speaking in a husky tone. I also think her hair needed deep conditioning and a trim.

Dinner consisted of a small ration of Safeway chicken wings with catsup spiced with Taco Bell diablo hot sauce. On a serendipitous note, I discovered three half manapuas, steamed buns filled with savory pork and various sauces. I wasn't ashamed that I ate two portions. Yum-O with hot tea.

Hold on. Weather breaking news just now from Command Center.

Active watch and warning for Oahu. High surf warning and wind advisory in effect from 0400 hours Sunday to 2400 hours.

That was the Big Storm I referenced two entries ago. Remember? It was on its way, all right.

Yet it was quiet. The lull before the storm? I could hear my own heartbeat. Shush, stop being a Drama Queen, as First Grandson would have said.

I went to bed.

Sol 4

The weather had changed. Not the best of days to be outside. The sky had turned weepy and dark. As if someone had torn open a waterskin, rain poured out from the clouds. The winds were gusting. Jeepers, I could get hurtled into the void, or in NASA terminology, 'go overboard.'

If the situation worsened, I could use the Rover (aka the rental car) and drive away, but where to? I had no sense of direction.

Bleh.

But I thought of the dome pop tent that was in the car. I could get it up and use it as a MAV ascent vehicle to evacuate. Hopefully fast. And float like an Ares astronaut. On the other hand, if I ended up stuck in the storm and doomed to die, I could eat all remaining meal portions. (Shame on me. Enough already.)

Lunchtime. Hmm... those Safeway chicken wings were delish.

On a related musing, I thought about the likelihood of First Grandson's Dirty Dawgs flag football and First Granddaughter's Purple Mermicorns soccer game getting cancelled. And how Second Granddaughter was doing.

ESP point-to-point. Client message received.

From First Daughter: Games cancelled due to rain.

From Second Daughter: Second Granddaughter learned how to finger knit very fast! Loves it!

I'd been missing my sweethearts.

In other news, today was the Grammys.

The winds had picked up again. The night was gonna be a cold one.

(To be continued)