Fall Waning Autumn Moon
We have come 249 nautical miles from Santa Marta to the archipelago of San Blas islands, a coastal string of over 365 islands, mostly small, off the coast of Panama. Our cabin, it turns out, sits right below the tenders which will ferry passengers from the Veendam to one of the islands where Cuna women will gather to sell the colorful molas. Kate purchased a batch of these the last time we were here and has talked about using them as the basis for a quilt.
With my delicate stomach I will take a meclazine tablet or two before we head off, sometime after lunch. Not sure whether I will get my sea legs or not. I started reading the Voyage of the Beagle yesterday in which Darwin referred to the trip as a “continual puke.” Yecchhh.
I held a skein of alpaca wool for Kate as she made it into a ball. This amused many women who remembered doing that long ago. It also amused many men, several of whom commented, “Well, you’re good for something!”
As we passed many small islands on our way here, several of the groups of islands had large motor and sail boats anchored on their leeward side. These islands were far too small to inhabit though many of them had sand beaches. At least, it looked like they did.
I’ve been expecting a sort of creative bump,.a desire to start writing some fiction or some non-fiction, but nothing yet. That usually requires a good stretch of nothing and with meals, naps and shore excursions we’ve been active.
Today we’ve been away for a full week. Ship board life has a certain rhythm punctuated by meals. And wrestling with the computer.
