I remember every moment of the journey, every sound , every colour, every emotion… The wind resonating through the mast of the sailboat in some remote anchorage… the relentless swell while trying to cook a meal… The long talks discovering each other and our improvised happy hours on deck… The star lit sky in some island where the only road is a mile long and if you look across that road from the beautiful lagoon, on the other side there’s an open ocean…. Cause there is nothing but water… And a village of fishermen to which a small ship full of groceries and clothes feels like Christmas every week… It fills up their only overpriced little store with things I’m not sure they need … And I remember my mother calling on Skype … In the middle of the sunniest day… The weakest most expensive internet…but there is internet even here, in the middle of this bay coming from that little shop…. And a few tourists that payed a fortune for this Paradise… While it took us months … Hundreds of people flew above us , they were sipping cold drinks looking at the vast blue ocean, unaware there is a lot of us down here … Pirates, gipsies, sirens…. We earned those sunsets and sunrises one mile at a time….
I remember exchanging a sip of rum for black pearls and pamplemousse…
I remember making friends with all those sea gipsies … I remember singing on a sailing vessel with a woman playing a Celtic harp with which she had sailed thousands of miles…her treasure through laughter and tears…. Till now , while people from each corner of the world gather around with their small dinghies and their childlike eyes in the middle of the night…to hear us sing and play and toast to life…
I remember it all too well…and it happened … And it left me high … Pacific High
