Boat life

I used to work on a ship in the Pacific, and these were my experience and thoughts.

            Nothing on a ship can ever be predicted.

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We docked next to the rusty shark finning boat in San Carlos where the dock smells like pelicans and old fish. We plotted to secretly steal the boats nets and decided against it. We wandered the hot streets gazing at the bakeries with pastel pastries and we stopped to eat pescado tacos (the best I’ve ever had?) at a tiny restaurant with four Mexican lady chef’s watched us with wonder.

We went to the store and bought soda water & coca cola for our ship mates and dodged an overly aggressive stray dog by throwing him the pastries we bought, laugh-screaming and making a run for it.

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On my day off, I ate strawberry poptarts and watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind in the crew lounge with pink flowers in my hair that I found in a thorny bush in San Cabo, Mexico.

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I cut off all of my hair (15inches?) off the fantail of the boat. I almost cried. Everything I knew about myself was gone. I felt vulnerable, like a fawn.

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The scenery is mostly cactus and sparse rolling desert and the cars drive haphazardly along the pot hole filled roles.

boatramblings