President Barack Obama

Location: Florence, Italy

Listening: Won't Get Fooled Again, by The Who

Wearing: PermaGrin (Leah's idea)

President Barack Obama.....President Barack Obama?.....President Barack Obama!

I kept repeating these words to myself this morning at 5:45 am Florence time shortly after I found out that the United States of America elected Barack Obama in a landslide defeat over Senator John McCain. I experienced a number of different emotions shortly after making this discovery. 

First, disbelief. I had stayed up late into the Florence evening trying to wait for the last polls on the west coast to close so that I could be part of the moment. Unfortunately, fatigue set in and I dozed off for about an hour. Upon waking and checking CNN.com, I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or not. This was the first time that I uttered the words President- Barack- Obama--almost as if they were too improbable to be spoken in that order. I rubbed my eyes. I was awake, and it was true. 

  

Next, excitement. This was my political Christmas, the image that I (like many, many others) had been hoping and waiting for for over a year. And it was all wrapped up in Red, White, and Blue. 

Then, concern. I couldn't help but worry for the safety of the President-elect and his family as they walked out on stage together. Considering the historical magnitude of this moment for African Americans (and of course ALL Americans) and the fates of the two most prominent black leaders of the sixties (King, Malcolm X), I was afraid that someone was going to try and hurt him. This will be an ongoing fear for me. 

The next thing I felt was a sort of catharsis-- an emotional release. It's been a while since I've teared up, but I will admit that I was overwhelmed by the moment and could not keep my eyes from watering up. I (again, like many others) had invested so much in this, and I could finally let go of the anxiety and waiting. Hope, Progress, and Change had finally come. 

After this I fell back asleep.

And the last emotion that I've felt up to this point happened to me earlier today as I was walking across Santo Spirito Square to get a bite to eat. In celebration, I chose to put on a coat and tie this morning. The tie that I selected to wear is red, white, and blue--which clearly identified me as an American. Being the long, lanky thing that I am, small Italian people tend to notice me as I walk by, and this time I noticed they were smiling at me. It was at this moment--on a beautiful fall day in Italy over 4,000 miles from the United States--that I was more proud than I have ever been in my life to be a citizen of the United States of America. Pride is what I felt then, what I feel now, and what I will continue to feel as long as Barack Hussein (yes, that's his middle name and NO, it doesn't scare me) Obama is the Commander in Chief of the United States of America. We have our leader. 

On facebook I've been watching some of the things that people are saying about the election outcome. Many are wonderful, positive, expressions of patriotism and pride. Others are angrier, bitter, and some even offensive. I hope that all you will reject cynicism and self-interest and instead I invite you to take advantage of this opportunity for unity. This moment in American history is bigger than you, bigger than me, bigger the triviality of wedge-politics, bigger than Republican and bigger than Democrat. It is about a new direction for America, one that will allow us to restore our reputation globally and with many of our own citizens at home who have been neglected, left out, or forgotten. (I'm thinking specifically of veterans and many of the people who STILL do not have a home in the wake of Hurricane Katrina.) 

As for the notion of American Exceptionalism--I believe that America is today more exceptional than it has ever been. But Barack Obama embodies a new American Exceptionalism, one that is defined by hope, progress, empathy, restraint, intelligence, and class, entirely free of any pejorative connotations. This is the emergence of The New America, and I'm proud to be a part of it. 

 

God Bless America. --Paul 

"Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future. "

--President John Fitzgerald Kennedy

October 2008

Location: Florence, Italy

Listening: Welcome Red, by The Benevento/Russo Duo

I hope that you are all still out there. Keeping up with my blog has been particularly difficult for me as of late because of the overwhelming workload that I've been dealing with. Now that classes have begun I'm responsible for approximately 800-1000 pages of reading each week. 

There are weekly papers, presentations, and discussions that I must also prepare for. This is definitely the challenge that I was looking for. 

The subject matter for the first semester is primarily background material to familiarize us with all things EU--grand theories of integration, profiles on member states, explanations of policy-making procedures, and a formal introduction to the bureaucratic structure of the European Union. It's a lot of information. I look forward to getting beyond this "stuff" so that I can begin to deal with the larger questions facing the EU and its validity and purpose. I've always preferred subjectivity to objectivity. 

The Real World: Florence 

Having done this study abroad thing before (London 2003), I had a pretty good idea of what I was getting into. When you pack 16 twenty-somethings into a beautiful palazzo in the heart of Florence, Italy you can be certain that there will be a certain level of drama. As I mentioned in my last post, there are 12 girls and only 4 males living in this house. I don't think the pheromones have kicked in yet but there have certainly been moments of tension between some of the girls. We four males have done a good job so far of avoiding these. 

We've managed to go out on the town a handful of evenings since we've been here and I've been relieved to discover that there is a core group that shares my passion for "having a big time." Life is lived much more fully if we adhere to the work hard/ play hard attitude. 

Next Thursday I'm traveling with the group to Ireland for 4 days and then with a smaller group to London for 3. I feel a bit ambivalent about returning to Ireland after having spent a large part of my summer there, but I'll be going to Dublin and points further north/northeast far away from the coastal places that I hit earlier. I haven't been to London since 2004 so I don't mind returning to my old stomping grounds for a visit. I love that city. 

Phish:

The band Phish announced that they will be reuniting in March of 2009 to do three shows at Hampton Coliseum in Virginia. Those of you who know me and are aware of the absurd distances (Miami to Vermont and many many places in between) I have traveled to see these guys play can imagine how happy this makes me. 

Phish has a bad rap in the mainstream because of associations with drugs, do-nothingness on the part of fans, and a refusal to respond to the demands and expectations of major record labels. Truly, this was something that started purely from the ground up with no expectations of stardom, fame, or widespread commercial success. In fact, the realization of some of these things (yes, including drug addiction) was exactly what led to the first and second disbandments in 2000 (hiatus) and 2004, respectively. Essentially, Phish fell victim to the classic Rock and Roll cliches of fame and excess that has destroyed so many other Rock bands in the past. 

But while Rock and Roll is a bunch of bullshit-- music is not. And if you've been lucky enough to catch these guys live when they're "on" when there is an almost visible energy exchange between the band and the audience, you know that there is something special and unique about the music being created. And as long as this revamping is coming from the same pure, honest (and sober) place it originated from (a college dorm in at University of Vermont in 1983) then I could not be happier that the music will begin again. 

For many people including myself, music is faith. In fact, at this point in my life I believe that in many ways music is safer than many of the other avenues people take to discover a connection with a higher power. Organized religion today is more often about politics and power than it is about people and what makes them feel alive. Music is the purest faith--an unambiguous and indiscriminating energy that soothes and strengthens all souls willing to surrender to its seductive nature. 

I'm reminded of Nathaniel Hawthorne's story The May-Pole of Merry Mount (1837). The story is centered around a pagan-esque celebration that follows a wedding of two young kids in Puritan New England at the beginning of the 19th century. The wedding party dancing around the May-pole is interrupted by an elder who is appalled at the scene who then orders for the group to be whipped and clothed in more conservative garb. Hawthorne's use of satire here is intransient--it hearkens back to issues related to The Fall of Man in the Garden of Eden and also says much about contemporary societal forces that that repress the sort of unconventional behavior symbolized by the may-pole dance. But as I said in my last post, none of the repressive efforts of any of the institutions that are the matter of our zeitgeist will get us back "into the garden." So really, both social reactionism and conservatism are futile attempts to repress those things about the human condition that hint at our fallibility, mortality, and ironically even our humanity. The good news is that we don't have to get back into The Garden, but that's another controversial theological debate that I'll deal with later. 

Today in America there are too many forces telling us that we're not good enough, or that we don't look the right way or that we don't have enough money, talent, or ambition. But for me and many others, Music (and especially the music of Phish) is a well that we draw from that reminds us of what we do have, who we truly are, and what is pure, honest and sacred in the one life that we are given. With the music there is no room for hatred, fear, or sadness--only joy. Today, we've got our may-pole back. 

"The trick is to surrender to the flow."

from The Lizards, Gamehenge Narrative by Phish

PS--If you want to know exactly what I'm talking about, click this link and watch carefully at what happens between the 4 minute mark and the 7 minute mark, paying careful attention to what happens at the 6 minute mark. 

 

Wash Uffize, Drive me to Firenze

Current Location: Florence, Italy

Current Coordinates: 43° 49' 60 N 11° 19' 60 E

Listening: You Enjoy Myself, by Phish, 12/30/94, Madison Square Garden, NY, NY

Reading: Origins and Evolution of the European Union, by Desmond Dinan, 2006

I've been in Florence now for over a week and have not yet had a chance to post anything. In part, this is because of the overwhelming orientation program which has trotted us all over the city from gallery to piazza to churches and to other places of cultural significance. It is also because I have spent most of my free time getting to know the people I will be living with for the next year. And lastly and most frustratingly, it is because I've not been able to get a single good night's rest because of the nightly bongo drumming crowds that gather just outside my window in Santo Spirito square on the steps of the Church of Santo Spirito. This goes on until 3 and 4 in the morning and it needs to stop soon if I'm going to get any work done.

 

A brief overview of my living situation and the program structure:

I live in an 16th century Palazzo that has been restored to house JMU's international program offices in Florence. There are computer labs, classrooms, a full kitchen, and seperate flats for faculty and the resident manager. The palazzo is known as "Palazzo Caponi" because of the family that used to own it--Caponi. 

There are 16 people in the program--4 guys and 12 girls. For the fall term all students are subject to the same curriculum and are in the same classes together. However, in the spring, each is allowed to choose a track that examines a specific area of EU policy. Then in the late spring in the early summer there is an opportunity for an internship here in Florence. There is also the option to complete a comprehensive research project. 

Now to the interesting stuff:

For the past three years of my life I have spent my days surrounded by people who were either 15 years older than me or 15 years younger than me (teaching, working at a church). It's taught me a lot about people, young and old. I've learned to spot great people when I see them. I have also learned to identify and manage some difficult personalities as well. All this being said, I feel incredibly lucky that I now find myself surrounded by 15 great personalities. Instead of managing personalities, I am able to enjoy them. Finally, a break from managerial responsibilities!

But there is a different challenge now--one that I've dealt with in the past but in a much less intensive setting. Whereas earning undergraduate degrees in the U.S. today is much about self exploration and greasing the rails to affluence, graduate school requires you to pour yourself into your work. I'm not saying that college wasn't a worthwhile experience. I'm just suggesting that it was a much easier and carefree one. 

We have approximately 800 pages of reading and 12 hours of classes a week. If I'm not eating, running, sleeping, or in class, I'm going to be reading. I look forward to when the bongo drums stop so that I can finally get into a routine. 

Why I'm here:

Seven years ago today I was freshman at JMU. On this very morning while walking back from class I remember encountering a car that had a piece of poster board taped to the side window that read,

    "EXPELL ALL MUSLIMS NOW!!!!!"

At this point I knew that something was seriously wrong. I had heard whispers of conversation about a plane hitting the World Trade Center on the way to class, but hadn't been able to check any news. When I got back into my dorm room I saw the images that we are now all too familiar with. 

In my last post I talked some about the tension between image and narrative. Today I invite you to consider the extreme tension between the images from 9/11 and the ensuing narrative. I'm reminded of a song that became popular shortly after the tragedy--"Have You Forgotten?" by country artist Darryl Worley. This is an overtly jingoistic song that suggests that our personal connections to 9/11 (where we you?) and the images of destruction themselves are worthy impetuses for American unilateralism and the war in Iraq. The message here is "fall in line." This typifies the hyper-nationalist response to September 11th, 2001 that was popular in America. 

But are we really dealing with the images if we react this way? Doesn't this song and the popular response rely upon the use of binaries to make sense out of what happened? (See op-ed piece from this post). Isn't it a vast oversimplification to suggest that on 9/11,

     

 "America was targeted for attack because we're the brightest beacon for freedom and      

   

  opportunity around the world. "

  

         sic, President George W. Bush to the Nation, 9/11/2001

????

I believe America has yet to deal with the images of devastation from 9/11 circumspectively. While embracing a narrative that ennobles our roles as victims of atrocity, we have been unwilling to come to terms with our impact on the globalizing world on economic, political, religious, and social levels. We continue to cling to the myth of American exceptionalism--a myth that I believe is the source of the tension between images of destruction from 9/11 and the popular narrative of American infallibility and invincibility. 

Perhaps what we're really dealing in America is an identity crisis. Because the world is so complicated to us now, we cling to familiar (but outdated) images of American identity.For instance, why do many southerners still hold strongly to a flag that represents a nation that no longer exists? Perhaps this is why Conservatism has become so popular in America--because of an unwillingness to reach an objective understanding of what America actually looks like in the midst of competing national, international, and global narratives. We can't look forward clearly for looking backwards towards a mythical era of American prosperity, dominance, and exceptionalism. We can't get back into The Garden people, and we can't recreate it either. 

So now I believe that it is an issue of perspective. I feel strongly that in order rebuild American identity in the face of the many global challenges we are facing, we must look outwards and begin to examine our great country from as many perspectives as possible. While faithfully chasing an ideal of what America can be, we must fearlessly confront the reality of what America already is.

So, it is my faith that has led me here to Florence, Italy where I will humbly begin to deal with some of the tough questions about American identity that I posed above. 

Stay tuned. This one should be a fun ride. I know I'm certainly going to have a blast.  

--Paul

PS--The Sarah Palin narrative is another example of The Right's preference for popular yet empty narratives. I get that she's a good idea for the GOP in the election, but if John McCain truly had the safety of America at heart, would he put this woman second in line to the most powerful position in the world? It's like a bad disney movie.....

I assume that there are contingency plans for a puppet presidency. The Right has demonstrated over the past 8 years that they are all too comfortable with this dynamic. 

PSS-- Barack Obama is a Jedi. 

  "We are the strongest nation in the world today, [but] I do not believe we should ever apply that economic, political, or military power unilaterally. If we'd followed that rule in Vietnam, we wouldn't have been there. None of our allies supported us. If we can't persuade nations with comparable values of the merit of our cause, we'd better re-examine our reasoning."

        Former Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara (Kennedy, Johnson)

        quoted from The Fog of War (Film) by Errol Morris, 2003

Home, Alas!

Current Location: Deltaville, Virginia

Current Coordinates: 37° 33' N, 76° 20' W

Listening: "The Only Living Boy in New York," by Simon and Garfunkel, 1970

On Tuesday morning of this week Mike and I checked the weather and decided that we would not be able to leave for La Coruna, Spain until Wednesday morning because of a strong low pressure system hanging around in the Bay of Biscay. Within minutes I was arranging my travel plans home.

I flew from Cork to London Heathrow and then on to Copenhagen where I spent the night before catching my flight back to Dulles the next day. One note--As I was coming down an escalator in Heathrow airport I realized that the woman standing at the bottom was Reese Witherspoon. I did a double take and was immediately reminded of this scene from Cruel Intentions (1999). Only I think that Reese was a bit more impressed by Ryan Phillippe than she was by me.

After unpacking and a long run down Grove Avenue the reality of home began to set in. I'm now beginning to try and document everything by organizing my photos and journal in a manner that does justice to the impact that this experience has had on my life and on my outlook on the world.

The best reference point for doing this is looking back through my blog entries. While doing so it occurred to me that neither the images nor the narrative can stand alone--they must be considered together in order to really grasp what this experience was like for me. If you scroll through the pages of images that I have incorporated into the body of the text you might get the wrong impression. I snapped most of the photos when I was inspired by a sunset, or by a landscape or by some other awesome spectacle. The sum of this paints the picture of an idyllic experience--the perfect process of self discovery. But there were also some very difficult moments, many of which I described in my narrative. The two considered together give the most exact representation of what life was like for me over the past two and a half months aboard Gitana.

I talked earlier in the blog about wanting to document this experience as thoroughly and fearlessly as possible with strict adherence to verisimilitude. But I admit now that I was at times quite self -conscious about sharing my thoughts ideas, many of which I have kept private. I was also concerned with how others might perceive my efforts and that some might deem my writing to be the ramblings of a self-important author. In retrospect, I'm glad that I chose to bring you along on this journey. Now you know more about who I am and where I'm coming from. I hope that each of you also understands now how important you are to me.

A few last gasps of preachiness:

I mentioned earlier that the most important thing I learned from this experience was how to manage a difficult personality. I'd like to retract that statement now. True, Mike is and was absolutely a challenging person to work for (but a good one). But I remembered that in the past I've dealt with many difficult personalities in work settings and came to the realization that life is full of characters who test our faith and our understandings of ourselves and how we fit into the world that surrounds us. He's just another chapter--and a very good one at that.

Another important thing that I've drawn from this experience is that I've learned to tolerate lower levels of stimulation. I think that this is an important maturing step and I'm glad that I've finally made it. Throughout childhood, into college and even for a while after life for me was about finding the next big event, the next rush, or the next problem. Because of my time at sea (and more specifically my numerous 4 hour watches behind the helm) I have finally learned to relax, to enjoy the calm, and to really appreciate the brief moments of complete peace that creep up on each of us from time to time. I relish these now.

And the last and most important thing that I've learned from this journey is to choose faith. Life, like the sea, gives us ups and downs. It's much easier to adopt a defeatist attitude when we find ourselves plagued with doubt, humbled by failure, or hurt by love. But I've learned over the past few months that there are just as many opportunities to be positive and faithful as there are chances to bemoan some of the circumstances we find ourselves in.

And for this reason I cling to the many awesome images I've seen over the past few months at sea. If the narrative was the venue for my inner dealings with faith, doubt, and growth, then the images are visual reminders of how beautiful life is for those who choose to believe.

Amen.

Oblivion

Currrent Location: Crosshaven, Ireland (near Cork)

Current Coordinates: 51° 53' N 8° 29' W

Listening: "This Must be the Place (Naive Melody)" by Talking Heads, 1983

Gitana pulled into the Royal Cork Yacht Club on Friday afternoon (August 1st) around 3:30. The passage from Dingle to Cork went smoothly and afforded us many spectacular views of the southwestern coast of Ireland. Also, after two months of steering southerly courses, Gitana finally rounded the southwestern corner of Ireland and then sailed due east--the first direction change in 2 months of sailing. Cork harbor is huge, large enough for the Titanic to have sailed into it before heading off on her ill fated voyage across the Atlantic in April of 1912. Cork was her last port of call.

Coming 'round the southwest corner of Ireland

Royal Cork Marina

We have a very nice slip because Mike is a member of the Royal Cork Yacht Club. There are all kinds of other amenitities here--hot showers, a very nice bar that is designed to look like the captain's quarters at the stern of a square rigger with large bay windows that give a panoramic view of the marina and inner harbor. This place is heaven compared to many of the places where we've stopped. Also, the weather is fantastic. Finally, it feels like summer! Compared to Bodo way up north, I feel like we've entered the tropics. It's great.

Jack got off of the boat and I miss him already. He had the uncanny ability to diffuse the most tense moments aboard Gitana with a bawdy rhyme or suggestive maxim. Really, I can't even repeat any of them here considering my audience.

But there is also the dimension to Jack--the Royal Navy sailor, the succesful business man, the father and grandfather, the patriarch. Being at sea boils people down to their core character and I will now say with conviction that John Charles Nye is an honest, compassionate, venerable man. I love and respect him and will always be thankful that our paths crossed and that I had the opportunity to know him.

I never explained exactly how it was the Jack came aboard Gitana. About 20 years ago Mike and Jack sailed together as crew around Cape Horn on an old square rigger named "Lord Jim." Shortly thereafter Mike asked Jack to join him aboard his boat to sail from Nantucket to Brazil. Mike explained to me that Jack had all sorts of problems keeping a course from Nantucket to the Caribbean. He kept jibing he boat--claiming that the wind had suddenly shifted or that a gust blew him off course. But Mike attributed these mistakes to Jack's trouble with numbers. I saw this with Jack a few times when I was on watch with him--he'd need to be steering a 180 degree course but I'd look down and he'd be on 108. Anyway, Mike unfortunately had to ask Jack to get off of the boat because he deemed that Jack's jibing problems were too much of a danger. Mike has always felt bad about this, and saw the North Sea passage that we've just completed as a way to make amends with Jack.

Because of all of this and because of Jack's age Mike never considered Jack to be crew in the same sense that I was. Scrubbing the deck, cleaning the head, sweeping down the cabin, completing log entries were all tasks performed by me and me alone. This isn't a complaint at all, just a description.

Exit Jack, enter Zach! Zachary Johnson is Mike's 22 year old nephew from Grundy, Virginia (southwest, Va). When he says his uncle's name it comes out like "Maahk. " For instance, he said to me, "man, I can't believe that you've been on the boat with Maahk for two months!" Niether can I--he's absolutley been the most challenging personality that I've ever had to manage. But he's also the best seaman that I've ever met. I'm learning a lot from him, a lot of which has nothing to do with sailing.

Having Zach on the boat has made life much easier for me. He's the work partner that I didn't have in Jack. Zach and I share all of the chores that I mentioned above. In Bodo, it took me 5 days to scrub the teak wood deck. In Cork with Zach, it took us only two days.

We've now been in Cork for a week getting the boat ready for the passage to Spain. The passage covers 485 nautical miles almost due south through Bay of Biscay on down past the coast of France to La Coruña, Spain. This 4 day passage would be the longest leg of my trip. However, it might be that I don't get to go. Now that we've finally got the boat ready to go the weather does not look good. According to the most recent forecast there is a gale blowing out of the south most of the day on Tuesday. We can't leave before it (for getting caught in it) and we can't leave any later than Tuesday morning because I've got to be in La Coruña by Friday night at the latest to connect with my flight from Madrid back the States that I've booked for Sunday, August 17th. I can't come back any later than August 17 because I need to get my passport off to the Italian embassy so that I can get my student Visa in time to be in Florence, Italy by September 2nd. Right now all that we can do is wait and watch the weather.

Report Card:

Now that this experience is almost over it's appropriate to take inventory of what I've learned and what I've accomplished. As of this moment, I've sailed 1598 miles from the Arctic Circle down through the North Sea to the north of Scotland, down the western coast of Scotland to the north of Ireland and from there down the western coast of Ireland around the corner to Cork where I am now. If I get the Spain passage in I will have sailed right at 2000 miles.

I've learned a lot about the mechanics of sailing, about which sails to use under which conditions, about what to do in rough conditions and more importantly what not to do. I'm comfortable with all of the rigging on the boat, all of the knots you can imagine to fasten down everything from sails to seat covers, and I've also become a pretty good cook. I've learned a lot of "stuff."

But the most important thing that I've taken from this experience is that I've learned how to manage a very difficult personality. Mike has been harder on me in the past two months than anyone has ever been on me in my life. It has toughened me up, made me more careful, observant, and intentional about everything. Around Skipper there's really no relaxing, just brief moments when you're not obligated to perform a specific task. I've been with him virtually all day long every single day since May 27th and I admit I look forward to being to set my own agenda again and perform tasks at my own pace and on my own time. My patience is admittedly running thin but at this point I've got all of the oblivion I need in fact that I will definitely be off of the ship on Friday.

And none of what I've said above should be taken as criticism or complaint. Really, it is just the way things were, the order that Mike systematically imposes in the lives of any and all crew aboard Gitana. He runs a very clean and tight vessel and is the most knowledgable and worthy seaman I've ever met. His methods and habits have served him well and kept safe all who have sailed with him. Here's to you, Skipper. Thank you.

I'd also like to express a very sincere THANK YOU to all who have kept up with my blog over the past few months. Knowing that there are people in "the other world" thinking about me has helped me tremedously. During the most challenging moments it has helped me to think, "how would Dad react to this situation?" or "how would Mom deal with Mike?" Thoughts of many others have also flooded my mind during the most difficult moments at sea when I feel far away from rationality and peace.

I'd like to use this opportunity to debunk one of the greatest myths ever--the widely held notion that sailing is a relaxing escape from reality. During the first few weeks of this experience I wrote at length about Robert Pirsig's article "Cruising Blues and Their Cure" that was published in Esquire magazine in May of 1977. I think I could have chosen a better name for that entry but the idea that I was getting at was valid. Only I had no real understanding at that early and relatively benign point on this journey just how valid it really was. In retrospect, it's as if that entry was about me preparing myself for what was to come--the most thorough and intensive test of my self-sufficiency and "manhood" in one of the most unforgiving (the sea and Mike) environments possible. Passion, in the sense that I so loftily described in that entry, is what has pulled me through this experience. In Solzhenitsyn's language, this same passion has absolutely facilitated the growth of my soul.

A few more chapters to come. Stay tuned.

--Paul

"Whoever loves becomes humble. Those who love have, so to speak, pawned a part of their narcissism."

--Sigmund Freud

Two additional notes/observations:

1. Black Irish women are beautiful.

2. "Hurt," by Trent Reznor as performed by Johnny Cash (2002) is the most powerful video that I've ever seen.

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, 1918-2008

Current Location: Kinsale, Ireland
Current Coordinates: 51°42′ N 8°31′ W
Listening: Hallelujah, by Martin Sexton

Day trip to Kinsale. Boat is in Cork. We sail for Spain on Thursday.

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn died yesterday. He was 89. This is the second person that I've written about or been inspired by on this trip that has died recently (also, George Carlin). I hope I'm not bad luck.

I'm reading "a - lot" (two words, thanks mom) about Communist Russia under Stalin as I prepare for my graduate program. Stalin targeted intellectuals (and many, many other types of people) like Solzhenitsyn for thinking (which was not encouraged) and placed them in the gulags. Solzhenitsyn's eight years in the Soviet work camps were the subject of much of his writing and the basis for many of his political beliefs.

Some of his words inspired one of my first posts on this trip. I'd like to remember Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn today by posting this again. Have a look if you haven't already. And if you have, you've done your homework and you've got the day off.

Another more detailed report coming before Thursday when we sail.

--Paul


"Long periods of well-being and comfort are in general dangerous to all. After such prolonged periods, weak souls become incapable of weathering any kind of trial. They are afraid of it. Yet it is a fact that difficult trials and sufferings can facilitate the growth of the soul. I know there is a widespread feeling that if we highly value suffering this is masochism. On the contrary, it is a significant bravery when we respect suffering and understand what burdens it places on our soul. "

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

Dingle, Ireland

Current Location: Dingle, Ireland

Current Coordinates: 52°′″N 10°′″W

Next Stop: Cork, Ireland

Listening: "Shine," by David Gray (discman, ipod soaked)

Reading: Postwar: A History of Europe Since 1945 by Tony Judt

Last night after dinner while Mike and I were comparing our childhood summers we discovered that even though separated by approximately forty years, many of our experiences were the same if not exactly alike. Similarities included constant bike riding, no girls clubs, war games, and an obsession with building forts. Most notably, we agreed that as children our summers seemed to last forever, as if the space between Memorial day and Labor day was an eternity eclipsed only by the time spent waiting for the next summer to roll around. Childhood in suburban America before XBOX and ipods was an idyllic and formative experience.

This summer has been the first one since my preteen years that has progressed at a similarly pregnant pace, perhaps because of its familiarly adventerous spirit as manifested by open sees, endless days (literally, especially in Norway), and an overwhelming sense of freedom and invincibility.

July has been a particularly long month. In fact, much more has happened during the month of July worth writing about as compared to June when we spent most of our time in Norweigan ports (hence all of the pedantic and editorial stuff). But now that my role has shifted from cultural observer to field reporter, I feel as though I'm not keeping up my end of the bargain. In large part this is not my fault--internet is much less available along the wild western coasts of Scotland and Ireland. I went into one small pub in Scotland in a very small town (one payphone) and asked if they had "wi-fi internet access." The publican had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. That, coupled with the inferiority of my laptop and the hapless backpack in the bog incident at Tory Island has made posting on Paulgrimage challenging and stressful.

But, here I am. Enough excuses and apologies. I'm now going to do my best to recap the month of July before we're into August.

My first entry of this month was from Lerwick, Shetland islands. Since Lerwick we've sailed over 700 miles from...

Scotland:

Lerwick-->Stromness, Orkney Islands (July 4th)-->Stornoway, Isle of Lewis--> Isle of Skye (hatch incident), to Isle of Mull (where we sat anchored for 7 days), down into

Ireland:

Tory Island--> Inishbofin-->Kilronan, Aran Islands--> and finally to Dingle where we are now.

I covered most of what happened in Scotland in the posts from Stornoway and Mull. Highlights and lowlights here include the broken hatch incident and the seven day stint at Ross of Mull and the correlating pub time and overnight stay at the Argyll Arms Hotel. Really, those days passed by so slowly. The visit to Iona (where St. Colomba brought Christianity to the Scots in 536 AD) was worthwile and afforded me many nice shots of the Benedictine Abbey (dates back to the 9th century) that still operates there. Evidence of Viking raiding parties and their eventual absorption into the local populations and cultures is present at each port stop from Lerwick through Isle of Mull and really, down into where we are now. I have a new found respect and appreciation for the impact that viking culture had on the course of western civilization. I definitely was not given the full story on that in grade school. In fact, my 6th grade history teacher told me never to forget the date 1066-- the date of the Norman conquest. I never really stopped and thought about what the name Norman really meant literally. Nor-Men means "men from the north," or "north- men," all reffering to the race of sailors, plunders, and warriors who originally sailed down from Scandanavia into the British isles. These were the Vikings, and I want to be one when I grow up.

from Tory Island

I briefly described Tory Island in my most recent post from Inishbofin. Tory is notable because it is the most isolated habited island in Ireland and also of course because of the amazing dog and dolphin synchronizing swim team routine that takes place in the harbor. I've got some video on my digital camera of this and I will put it up on youtube as soon as I get back. We spent most of our time in Tory fixing, cleaning, all the while waiting for favorable winds to blow us further south down to Inishbofin.

This is one of the pictures that cost me my ipod. (above)

Dog and dolphin

Inishbofin is famous because it boasts one of the world's most protected natural harbors and because of the Cromwellian fort that overlooks the town. Oliver Cromwell made a point to fortify and protect Ireland during the interregnum, fearing that the Vatican and the Spanish would intervene on behalf of the once entirely Catholic nation. Today, Inishbofin is a popular vacation destination. There is a very swanky hotel here that has a spa, a very posh (and overpriced) restaurant, and a spacious bar populated on the evening we were there by singles in their mid-forties. Not my crowd. By the way, posh was originally a nautical term, meaning "port out, starboard home," which was typically the most desirable cabin location on passenger ships travelling to and from the British colonies in the far east. Free etymology lesson, no charge.

We left Inishbofin for the Aran Islands on Saturday morning at 5am. The passage was smooth and the scenery was amazing. Scotland was nice, the western coast of Ireland during summertime is one of the most beatiful places that I've ever seen, even taking into account the Greek Isles, which is where I was one year ago today.

The Aran Isles is a popular vacation spot for people my age. The most common mode of transportation on the island is a bike, which can be rented at a cost of 10 euro for the whole day. The town is located right near the harbor with bars, internet cafes, a few hotels, one large beach, and even some palm trees (caused by the Gulf Stream). This was the first time on this trip that it really felt like summer outside. I was sweating, and even managed to get some much needed sun on my chest. I'd like to have some color when I get back! I rented a bike and hoofed it up to Dun Aengus, one of several prehistoric forts on the Aran Islands. Here I took pictures and video of sheer cliffs that drop off into the Atlantic. Also, when looking out beyond these cliffs, it was powerful to know that I was standing on the last edge of land between Ireland and the other side of the Atlantic.

We sailed away from Aran down into Dingle on Sunday evening at 6pm. On the way down I caught the most amazing sunset-- I must have taken 50 pictures of it. Absoultely spectacular colors! I also caught several pictures of dolphins jumping in mid-air with the sunset in the backdrop. I might even be able to make some money off of these shots--the best pictures that I have ever taken.

So there you have it. That's my month of July in retrospect. I'm very glad to be here in Dingle now, the last stop before Cork. We sail for Cork tomorrow morning. Cork is unfortunately where Jack is getting off the boat. I am truly sad to see him go, as I am doubtful that I will ever see him again. Spending time with Mr. Nye over the past two months has been an honor. He is a good man--kind, patient, quick-witted with a sharp sense of humor. In essence, he is exactly what I want to be when I'm his age. A true gentleman.

Summer rolls on. Believe it or not, there are only three weeks left before I get off of the ship and head back to the states for a few weeks before heading off on my next adventure. This has been most demanding experience of my life both physically and psychologically, and I'm proud to say that I'm fully adjusted to life at sea. I am completely comfortable being uncomfortable, prepared for things to go bad and pleasantly surprised when they go right. This, like those of my preteen years, has been an endless summer--a formative and life changing experience that I'm sure I'll spend the rest of my life measuring myself against.

--Paul

The sea - this truth must be confessed - has no generosity. No display of manly qualities - courage, hardihood, endurance, faithfulness - has ever been known to touch its irresponsible consciousness of power. The ocean has the conscienceless temper of a savage autocrat spoiled by much adulation. He cannot brook the slightest appearance of defiance, and has remained the irreconcilable enemy of ships and men ever since ships and men had the unheard of audacity to go afloat together in the face of his frown."

from Mirror of the Sea, by Joseph Conrad

Inishbofin, Ireland

Current Location: Inishbofin, Ireland
Current Coordinates: 53° 37' N 10° 12' 32 W
Next Stop: Aran Islands, Ireland
Listening: Crossroads, by Robert Johnson, as performed by Phish 12/29/97
Reading: Postwar: A History of Europe Since 1945, by Tony Judt

Gitana arrived at Inishbofin Harbor at 9:00 am Friday, July 25th after a 1.5 day sail from Tory Island Ireland. We will only be here overnight as we will be heading south to the Aran Isles tomorrow on our way to Cork. It appears that we will arrive in Cork on Thursday of next week if the weather unfolds as forecasted. I'm very eager to get to Cork!

Tory Island is the smallest, most isolated, habited island in Ireland. We had planned to be there only one day but ended up spending three there because of the same SW winds that have bedeviled us since we left Bodo a month and a half ago. The island has its own king who personally greets each person off of each ship that enters the harbor. Also of note were synchronized swimming partners "Dougie" the dolphin and "Ben" the dog--a yellow lab. Every time Ben sees the dolphin swimming (very conspicuouosly) in the harbor he high tails it to the dock and leaps in and begins to swim around with his fishy friend. It was outrageous, and luckily, I recorded it with my digital camera. I'll put it up on my next post when I get to Cork.

We spent our time in Tory fixing, cleaning, scrubbing, and...well yeh, that's pretty much what we did the whole time, minus a few trips to the pub for a pint. I worked my ass off in Tory Island! I did however manage to get away from the boat for a few moments to take some really amazing photos--one of which cost me my ipod. I was trying to capture the most amazing sunset by walking along an old stone wall that stretched out across a field that towered above sheer cliffs that gave the most amazing panoramic views of the mainland and the sea. Unfortunately, I lost my footing and came hurling down to the ground landing in a bog on my back--completely soaking my backpack and all the contents inside of it. This ruined my ipod (a real bummer--nothing to listen to during my 4 hour watches) and also the power supply cable to my laptop (I am now typing from a computer at an internet cafe that is not mine). I did, luckily (and perhaps most significantly) manage to save my digital camera from submersion, holding it up high in the air as I fell to the ground. I was soaked. I'll find a way to keep posting at cafes like this one during the remaining 3 weeks of the trip, so please do stay tuned.

The passage from Tory Island to Inishbofin was a struggle . Our course required us to sail past some very treacherous rocks as we sailed across Donegal bay towards Inishbofin. Unfortunately, we reached this point during Jack's watch. As I mentioned before, Jack has a problem with numbers, which is a REAL problem when you're trying to steer a very expensive vessel through tight channels. Jack kept falling off course, I kept trying to help him stay on but it became a comedy of errors as it got dark, the winds shifted, and the sails began to luff all at the same time. Skipper was angrier than I have seen him yet. In the midst of another eruption he paused, holding back his fury for one wee moment to tell me that "this is exactly the kind of scenario that {I} need to be in to learn how to be a good sailor." He's right.

Jack gets off in Cork and Mike's nephew Zack gets on. Mike, Zach, and I will then sail from Cork south all the way across Bay of Biscay to La Coruna, Spain. This is 485 miles and will be the longest passage that I've done yet. I'm looking forward to that. I will then most likely be getting off the boat in Portugal (Lisbon) where I'll have to hop on a plane to Rome to connect with my return flight back to the States on August 17.

There's so much more going on that I'm missing but I have to return to the dock and put diesel fuel into the tank. Hooray. A much more in depth post as soon as possible, perhaps Monday or Tuesday. I've gotten a lot out keeping this blog I'll continue to work hard on it with the limited free time that I have.

Stay Tuned!

Ross Of Mull, Isle of Mull, Scotland

Note: This post was updated on Thursday, July 17th

Current Location: Ross of Mull, Isle of Mull, Scotland
Current Coordinates: 56°′N 6°′W
Next Stop: Tory Island, Ireland
Listening:

1)"Everybody Wants to Rule the World," by Tears for Fears as performed by The Bad Plus

2) "Iambic 9 Poetry," by Squarepusher

3) "Sunny's Song," by the Benevento/ Russo Duo

Reading: The Israel Lobby, by John Mearsheimer and Stephen Walt

We arrived at Stornoway, Isle of Lewis from Stromness early Sunday morning, July 6th. This was probably the nicest port we've been in since Alesund--lots of shops, pubs, showering facilities, etc. It was here that we encountered another American boat for the first time since Bodo. We tied up along Indian Summer, sailed by Jerry and Terry Solom, father and son, respectively. These guys were great. They were knowledgeable about the area as they had been there for nearly a month when we had arrived preparing their boat for a transatlantic passage from Scotland to Maine. They expected that their passage would take about 5 or 6 weeks so I suspect that they are now about a quarter of the way across now. Godspeed, Gentlemen!







The castle above was the home of James Matheson, a British trader who played an instrumental role in starting the Opium Wars. Matheson used his outrageous profits from the opium trade to buy the whole of Isle of Lewis which is where he chose to build Lews Castle. The island and the castle are now owned by the local council.



Gitana left Stornoway on Wednesday morning at 3:30 am (July 9) and sailed south to Dunvagen, Isle of Skye. The passage was only about fifty miles and we had reasonably good weather so we pulled into Dunvagen about 4pm. Sailing was the easy part of this day--the rest of it was very rough.

I was having trouble keeping my eyes open during my watch so I went beneath to catch a cup of coffee. I heard a strange noise coming from above and so I put my coffee down and decided to have a look. I failed to realize/remember that I'd only closed the hatch halfway when I went down and so with my reascent I rammed my head with full force into the hatch which ripped the cover board off of it. After I came too (moment of dizziness and confusion) I realized what I had done and I had the worst feeling of shear panic and doom as I imagined Skipper's reaction to my carelessness. Really, I thought he was going to kill me, and I kept repeating that to myself. The worst part is that the noise didn't wake him up from his nap--I had to sit there in the cockpit behind the helm staring at the mangled wood as I envisioned being thrown overboard or something worse. Somewhat to my relief, Skipper popped his head up about 10 minutes later just to check on things. Before pointing out what I had done I admitted that I made a mistake and that I was willing to pay for the damages and do whatever necessary to fix the problem. He said, "enough already, what'd you break?" He seemed actually relieved when I told him what it was--there are so many other more expensive and important mechanisms on that boat that can easily be damaged that would really slow our progress.

But things got worse in Dunvagen. Up to this point, we've been lucky enough to find suitable piers to tie up against, eliminating the need for our anchor. But places as far south and as remote as Isle of Skye and Isle of Mull (where we are now) do not have sophisticated marinas--you have to anchor. So, I had my first anchoring drill at 4pm, July 10 upon entering the Loch at Dunvagen. It did not go well. When explaining the anchoring process Skipper's tone was more hurried and frustrated than it was calm and instructive--perhaps because of the broken hatch incident from earlier in the day. There I was, up at the bow with a $600 anchor in my hands trying to understand Skipper's orders coming from the cockpit, shouted over the engine and into the wind as the boat bobbled back and forth in the lee of the small island we were setting up behind. We finally got the anchor set, but not before I'd been thoroughly yelled at like a marine recruit on his first day at Parris Island. It was bad, and it got worse over the next couple of days.



For the next day or so Skipper erupted into a tirade every five or ten minutes over things like misplaced items on the boat or the use of precious paper towels (they are hard to find here) or unidentified ziploc bags left in the galley--"what's supposed to go in this!?" At first I'd flinch and tense up waiting for the next barrage since most of these criticisms were directed at me. But eventually I got used to them and could even see them coming well in advance..

"oh shit, Jack put the fenders out in the wrong place, I was supposed to do that, but I haven't got to it yet because I'm still trying to finish up task X which can't be done before I finish task Y which if not done carefully and thoroughly will result in task Z which Skipper explicitly expressed he does not want to have to do because it will F*@* everything up"

or..

"someone left the water pressure on at the control panel..I wonder if I can click it off without him hearing the noise, which would reveal the mistake..."


or..

"the seacock in the head that restricts water from sinking the boat was left down...."

My mind races a million miles a minute trying to anticipate what's going to create the next problem, the next eruption, the next barrage of criticisms. I try and balance doing what is expected of me and taking cautious initiative, ala, "what made you think that was a good idea?" Again, I don't intend to demonize Skipper or make him sound unreasonable. I do, however want to make my account as verisimilar as possible. Mike has a lifetime of experience at sea and he knows exactly what needs to be done (and what cannot be done) in order to safely get the boat where it is heading. It is absolutely an honor and a privelege to sail with Michael Johnson. He's told me in calmer moments not to take what happens at sea too seriously, but you can only be yelled at for so long before you start to internalize what's being said. Humility. Endurance. Perseverance.




We left Dunvagen on Thursday morning July 10 and headed south for Isle of Mull, which is where we are now. The hotel is awesome, a real haven, a breath of fresh air with new faces and a positive vibe that was much needed after the previous two or three days of "badness." I decided to spend a night in the hotel to get a hot meal, take a shower, and sleep on a stable surface. This proved to be a good move. After the bar closed I enjoyed pints with the publicans (bar managers) who were still lingering around. I also encountered a drunk Irish woman named "Theresa" who initially called me an "American wanker." By the end of the evening I managed to endear myself to Theresa, not having engaged her but instead choosing to type down her many outlandish statments, sketching out a character who is most certainly fodder for future fiction. I wish I could delve more into her character here, but I promise that I won't go nearly as deep as I did last post. No abstractions, all descriptive, informative, no blabbering. Oh yeh--one thing to mention. Theresa was particularly put off by my intent to study the EU--an institution whose existence "{tramples} on the graves of all of the men who fought for Irish independence." It was healthy for me to hear this as most of what I've read in the academic books I've read about EU politics this far has given me the impression that the European Union is a widely favored (if not popular) body amongst Europeans. This tells of the real disconnect between the people and the politicians. Still, for the record, I believe that the EU is a great plan, the next logical step for the spread and maintenance of democracy in the west.




Mike and I went to Iona yesterday to see the abbey. Iona is the site where St. Colombo brought Christianity to Scotland from Ireland in the year 563. He established a small monastery there housed in thatch roofed buildings and the like. Later the Benedictines built the Abbey which still stands today. It is an ecumenical church now that houses a retreat facility used by pilgrims from across the world. A real charm to the place. There is also a small nunnery that was established by the sister of the Benedictine monk who ran the monastery. It is located a discreet distance from the monastery in a smal meadow that nears the shore. Very nice place. Pictures below.

On our progress: Skipper says that we "have been be-deviled by bad weather." According to our original itenerary, we were supposed to be in Cork, Ireland on June 26. We are still about 400 miles north of Cork. Really, there is nothing to blame here except the weather--which nothing can be done about. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the pattern so far has been to arrive at a port and stay there for 4 or 5 days waiting on favorable winds to blow us to our next spot further south. This means that I'm spending more money than I wanted to and seeing fewer countries than I had expected. However, I still wouldn't trade this experience for anything. What I have learned so far about myself, life, discipline, and perseverance (amongst other things) has been invaluable. For instance, if I ever encounter a pushy boss in the future, it will be nothing compared to having lived with a drill seargeant in a small cabin the size of a glorified port- o -john. There are so many other things that come to mind but I'm limited by time here.


So at this point I'm thinking that I'll make it to Gibraltar before August 17th, which is when I'm due back in the States. It may also be that I'm back a bit early, which wouldn't be bad considering the number of people that I want to spend good time with before I head off to school in Italy. I hope to see all of you!

Very strong SW winds kept us aboard Gitana all day long yesterday. Our dinghy is in dire need of repair and skipper didn't want to risk it breaking to pieces as we tried to row ashore. There's nothing worse than a broken dinghy. Made the most of it by reading, cooking beans and rice and drinking some red wine.

We sail for Tory Island, Ireland tomorrow afternoon if all goes as planned. From what we hear the island has its own king who has only 190 subjects as Tory is scarcely populated. I'm hoping that there is somewhere for me to connect so that I can post. If not, I'll update as soon as I can. In the meantime, thanks so much for following my travels and stay tuned--there's much more Paulgrimage to come.

L'chaim. --Paul

pinecones.



"Myths and legends die hard in America. We love them for the extra dimension they provide, the illusion of near-infinite possibility to erase the narrow confines of most men’s reality. Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of “the rat race” is not yet final."


--Hunter Stockton Thompson, from The Great Shark Hunt, pt. 3 (1979)

(July 18th, 1937- February 20th, 2005)



Happy Birthday Gonzo.