I don’t have a life-long dream. I wish I did. Something to strive, work and wish for. I have goals, but they’re mostly petty – and achieving any of them would not make me immensely proud or happy.
Last Tuesday I got on a plane early in the morning so I could ride two buses across Greece (for six and a half hours) reaching my destination in the Ionian Islands. There, in a port in a town called Preveza, waited a boat that would take me on a week long trip. On the boat the bf and a friend he met in a Cruisers Club were waiting. I should mention the friend was also the yacht owner, a brand new 32-feet home with sails.
The entire endeavor was meant as a trial period. If all goes well, next May we ourselves would buy a boat and go sailing for the entire season. It’s funny how when you’re in a relationship you get immersed in the other person’s dream and it slowly becomes your own.
Ten years ago I wouldn’t have imagined I’d want to spend a night on a boat, let alone six months. And with just one other person. But here I am, sitting with my laptop in a little bay belonging to the village of Kioni, on the island of Ithaca (the way to Ithaca wasn’t ten years, but it was still a journey, probably more of the mind than of the flesh) surrounded by people from all nationalities who got here by sailing the seas. I’m daydreaming about destinations in our upcoming trip and spitballing names for our boat. [If you have any, let us know, otherwise I’ll be inclined to choose a name from A Song of Ice and Fire and I fear those all tend to have bad luck.]
When you’re out here you can observe the different approaches people take in this kind of trip. Some always want to reach new places. Some like to leisure about in a port or a bay, drinking and eating. And some want to sail, to feel the wind and the waves. I haven’t yet reached a decision about which type of person I am. I’m guessing I’ll find that out next spring when we set sail on our own adventure.
This new year might just be a year to be excited about.