That is completely sufficient. You missed nothing. On the contrary, it even sounds strange and almost seems a bit of funny when you hear the news again after months of abstinence. Or at a kiosk reads the headlines. It's like you're tap into a well-known loop. In this eternal bleating machinery that still produces the same mud. It is the pull of a colorful, loud, empty hole. With the boat, fortunately, can sail away easily.
Only when the winter comes, the bitter cold, the ship must be out of the water. The ice could damage the paint, crush the hull if possible. Then I 'm staying with friends, draw grumpy and briefly again in the one room of my apartment. In March, however, the planks have to be sanded and painted again. In April it starts again - get out on the water, back to safety to Aachen.
What is happening? The view in the distance is one of the gifts of my little town and housing change. Not rigid at all the house walls, no doors, no motorcade, no longer gasping for parking. At sea, these phenomena of full gas company no longer exist. Man must keep still, listening. You do not dozing in this life boat also.
The greatest gift in my life at sea is life - but also time to work. For I am God knows no privateer, no shares with cute little box filled account. So I write and work on board to continue - and this even more and, perhaps, even better. Sitting on the bunk next to the galley and can devote myself to the texts with rest. When I want, when it runs best. Mostly in the very early morning hours on the cheap Ferry Holyhead Dublin.
I have a laptop, a surf stick. Near the coast and in the ports of the network usually works well. Twice a day I dial into the invisible world beyond the horizon into it, read and write my e -mails. Twice a day, a quarter of an hour. That's it. Not more. Makes me more stupid. It has taken away my life.
At noon I go swimming, am sailing here, there, in the next bay to the next port. Eat herring sandwiches, chatting with fishermen. But lo and behold: There is still time left! For as much time stealing a the offices, the mail, the city, the smart phones, the television, the eternal distractions of our sounding little world ? I would now appreciate that all this a smooth steals half of each day. If you are not careful, half a lifetime with cheap Ferry Harwich Hook of Holland.
I need little. The Lake Achen, two pairs of jeans, some T-shirts, three thick sweaters, two pairs of sneakers. That is enough. Also, this reduction gives a time - and perhaps one or the other. No longer the pursuit of more, being surrounded by a thousand things, not the usual stimuli dictate the day. All wiped away. The Marine life is after all the months of rather a different way of looking through the head.
How long can you evade our harried society - without missing out on something ? Even the question is wrong. How long do you let yourself of this rushed society - to have missed anything really important in the end? This question makes it even more likely.
Monday 30 March 2015
Friday 20 March 2015
A first taste of Vietnamese culture
Due to a flood that has already claimed 40 lives, no trains to the south. Our mum on time (note, we interrupt this text for a short eulogy : Marina May, you have fed us, calms ( " do not panic, the driver comes in time, everything will be fine " ), shown us the way and explain the world ( " stomach ache " ), protected us from the rain and grown our laundry - three cheers to you, you gentle angel with nerves of steel ) booked hastily a flight to Da Nang : then Hue is just skipped and there ! goes directly to Hoi An : Nothing is more flexible than a person traveling, the where and when has no significance for the course of things and take a look at fast Ferry Dublin Liverpool.
Farewell of the rumors of Ha Noi : We are already on the way to the airport when we hear it : A friend of a friend of a friend this morning was in the 17 Floor of the Hanoi Towers busy, as he saw it through the window : a few kilometers a dust mushroom cloud rose over the city like after a big explosion : near the football stadium where the military rehearses for his ultimate 1000 annual parade and look at the ferries.
Then the first cell phone photos on the Internet: destruction, deaths, injuries, chaos, police officers, firefighters. Certainly not stop, but some catastrophic stupidity : what the Army must also consider their bombs through the city and cram all containers with fireworks ! A little later: news blackout and digital cleanup until the official version is finished tinkering. What remains is the rumor mill, which could prohibit or no regime in the world, the whispering.
With thick butt the darkness sitting on the land when we arrive : almost midnight : After the notoriously overcrowded capital of Hoi An as the main character in a movie Nouevelle Vague : dark, beautiful, silent, mysterious, empty of life. Small houses, wide streets, sidewalks real - and nowhere to be seen a soul, either on two wheels or four, not on low stool sitting, not lying asleep. This is like my last Ferry Dublin to Holyhead Timetable trip.
Simply no. That's a shock : Here's something bad happens ? Where are all the ? Why not honk like in Bremen? - And if we miss our 3 million new citizens after a week Ha Noi - must feel like a Vietnamese from Hanoi, when he first comes into the empty Germany ? ( We guessed it right : Lonely, unreal, disoriented, lost. ) The cicadas give everything : A sound, as if the night powered by high voltage. These croaking frogs, chirping geckos, rats fiepende who walk in all front yards.
"You want to go to a bar ? Good bar ? " - Amidst the dark alley, surrounded by romantic old house, our lone cowboy comes a scooter riders contrary, on his horse : Humanity is therefore not extinct, at least the tourist traps are still alive. We give him a brush-off, go left, right, left, right, up the brownish asphalt passes into brownish water surface, a few boats, the noses stretched on the sidewalk, take a nap - and land by itself at the " Good Bar ", which is the ultimate culture shock : no chairs but wicker chairs from which sources voluminous tourists sweaty faces under silly hats, hairy paws, lift the tankard : of delicate Vietnamese sitting in white waiter blouses the thick chunks and raise food ( fries ) and liquid ( beer ) to the gaping maws. (For a delirious second, I think I know as true as the Americans tried to feel at home here ).
Farewell of the rumors of Ha Noi : We are already on the way to the airport when we hear it : A friend of a friend of a friend this morning was in the 17 Floor of the Hanoi Towers busy, as he saw it through the window : a few kilometers a dust mushroom cloud rose over the city like after a big explosion : near the football stadium where the military rehearses for his ultimate 1000 annual parade and look at the ferries.
Then the first cell phone photos on the Internet: destruction, deaths, injuries, chaos, police officers, firefighters. Certainly not stop, but some catastrophic stupidity : what the Army must also consider their bombs through the city and cram all containers with fireworks ! A little later: news blackout and digital cleanup until the official version is finished tinkering. What remains is the rumor mill, which could prohibit or no regime in the world, the whispering.
With thick butt the darkness sitting on the land when we arrive : almost midnight : After the notoriously overcrowded capital of Hoi An as the main character in a movie Nouevelle Vague : dark, beautiful, silent, mysterious, empty of life. Small houses, wide streets, sidewalks real - and nowhere to be seen a soul, either on two wheels or four, not on low stool sitting, not lying asleep. This is like my last Ferry Dublin to Holyhead Timetable trip.
Simply no. That's a shock : Here's something bad happens ? Where are all the ? Why not honk like in Bremen? - And if we miss our 3 million new citizens after a week Ha Noi - must feel like a Vietnamese from Hanoi, when he first comes into the empty Germany ? ( We guessed it right : Lonely, unreal, disoriented, lost. ) The cicadas give everything : A sound, as if the night powered by high voltage. These croaking frogs, chirping geckos, rats fiepende who walk in all front yards.
"You want to go to a bar ? Good bar ? " - Amidst the dark alley, surrounded by romantic old house, our lone cowboy comes a scooter riders contrary, on his horse : Humanity is therefore not extinct, at least the tourist traps are still alive. We give him a brush-off, go left, right, left, right, up the brownish asphalt passes into brownish water surface, a few boats, the noses stretched on the sidewalk, take a nap - and land by itself at the " Good Bar ", which is the ultimate culture shock : no chairs but wicker chairs from which sources voluminous tourists sweaty faces under silly hats, hairy paws, lift the tankard : of delicate Vietnamese sitting in white waiter blouses the thick chunks and raise food ( fries ) and liquid ( beer ) to the gaping maws. (For a delirious second, I think I know as true as the Americans tried to feel at home here ).
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