Sea Level Living restarts

After some indecision, Tranquility moved from the soft bed of grass of the boat yard to the warm and soft embrace of the ocean. This is the the third time since we own her that we assisted to the transition.

We’ve been held up on land by a series of malfunctioning of the travel lift, the steel apparatus that move boats up and down the boat yard, including a final starter motor failure which moved the deadline again three days further. We had been ready for ten days after slapping up the last of many coats of antifouling paint.

The staff at Turtle Cay Marina was clear and communicative during the process, and ultimately granted us a discount for the inconvenience. Even if we were probably only four or five feet above it, all we wanted was to come back to sea level living. We were tired of constantly bringing grass, dust and mud in our home or fight back ant colonies, beetles, spiders, mosquitoes and many other creatures coming from the biodiverse Panamanian rainforest.

For a couple there is nothing more challenging than living on a small boat. Oh, wait. There is. It’s living on a small boat parked out of the water on top of ant colonies.

Kate missed the launch by one day only, as she traveled back to the US for family time, which I was sad to miss, but the launching operation was swift and Tranquility now is finally floating and tied to a dock. It feels so right to be in the water.

Alone on the boat I indulge in the little things that I cannot do when Kate is here. One of these little treats is to blast music inside the cabin (Beta did not complain yet), with the genre tilting toward loud hard rock or heavy metal.

The morning started with “Wherever I may roam” by Metallica. With my eyes closed I relished the hypnotic electric sitar intro before Ulrich hit the snares sending the band in the Allegro-Vivace typical of their commercial self-titled album.

It’s the moment when the headbanging starts, followed by a wave of awakening chthonic energy that comes bubbling up toward the surface. This process has a surprising beneficial effect in motivating my cleaning routine.

Spurred by the track I overcome my inertia and start to tackle the surfaces of the boat, armed with the loyal sponge and the powerful vinegar spray, removing the last grass (yes, grass!), spiderwebs and dead ant from the floor, lockers and bilges.

Until the chorus of the song grasps my attention:

” Oh, but I’ll take my time anywhere
Free to speak my mind anywhere
And I’ll redefine anywhere
Anywhere I roam
Where I lay my head is home, yeah”

I have to admit that Metallica’s lyrics are not the best example of poetry, but theirs and many other bands’ contributed to my English learning process during my teenage years, as I would painfully translate the lyrics, listening to the same tracks over and over until I could repeat words that made sense and reconstructed a meaning that was if not correct, at least plausible.

For the first time now, during a hot morning of boat cleaning, I notice the not so subtle white-dude bias in James Hetfield’s words. For the first time I realized that I share this bias too, as I can easily identify with the song that talks about a “rover, wanderer, nomad, vagabond”.

Geography is written by power, it seems obvious enough, but there are sad and clear reminders of this relationship between ruler and ruled in current U.S. national politics and the migrant crisis in Europe.

Some people can go wherever they may roam. Some others are prevented to do so with coercion, if not violence. Families are teared apart by bans and deportation, they have to incur danger and risk death just to keep the candle of hope lit. Other individuals or families can expatriate or go to vacation more or less where they feel like, and the difference between the two cases depends only on birthplace.

Only a small number of members from the ruling class like Metallica (and myself) can sing the words “free to speak my mind anywhere” or that “where I lay my head is home”. For a great number of people roaming this planet is just not reality.

I share this privilege for the simple fact that I hold a passport that has been classified as the 3rd best passport in the world, granting me visa free access to 187 countries. I can take my boat where I want. I can stay in Panama, or check-in into countries with just few bureaucratic steps, maybe a fee for some paperwork, and a entry stamp is easily applied on my passport.

Listening to heavy metal, cleaning my floating home in a hot morning, I wished that everybody in this world was free to go where they want, without being subject to violence, incarceration and abuses.

I wish this freedom was not just a privilege for few.