Day Seventeen

Beyond Rotterdam

The ship is not at its loading position yet and will not be before tonight at the earliest. Thankfully, though, we are not to anchor somewhere out but instead have a temporary berth at a pier. This allows the crew to start provisioning and me, sadly, to leave. The cab arrives at eleven o'clock and suddenly I am back on terra firma with its hoards of people, cell phones that always work (not just at some well celebrated occassion close to shores), and all those difficult decisions.

Even with all its modernization, seafaring still is a curios relict of an age long past elsewhere. Of an age, when looking for the weather was more important than looking at the clock. When plans were more a wish of what would be nice to happen than detailed predictions. It is quite odd after being in that age for twelve days to have to deal with timetables that measure in minutes not hours.

But at least in one regard the first task at hand, acquiring a train ticket to the German town of Suhl where my parents live, is similar to shipping life: A lot of waiting. At the international ticket office, only two counters are open both are occupied by people who seem to plan the invasion of Normandy.

But an hour later, a train takes me inland. Away from the coast and the sea back into another that other, half forgotten life.