Just a brief post today (internet service is poor and expensive
). Right now I am 3 days out from New York City, nearly halfway to Southamptom, England, on the majestic Queen Mary 2. This is the view out my cabin balcony. The ocean is shrouded with fog. We are moving along at 23 knots, slower than the liners of old that made the crossing in 5 days — a concession to fuel economy and an attempt to keep the ship as stable as possible in the rough waters. Surprisingly, the outside air temperature has been warm in the high 60s. It is windy, but comfortable out on deck with just a light jacket on despite the date being January 6th.
The 7 day crossing allows adequate time to stop and contemplate the wonder of this world of ours, tucked away in a spiral arm of one of billions of galaxies. There is so much water here on our planet! It is hard to appreciate unless you spend days on a ship crossing an ocean. Of course not many people have time to spend a week on ship, especially hard-working Americans. By the time you arrive at your destination, your week of vacation is over, and you’d have to fly back. Indeed most of the travelers on the ship are British, of retirement age, or both. Ship travel is actually a bargain, considering what you get. It is like eating in a fine restaurant 3 times a day, staying in a fancy hotel for a week, and traveling to Europe all for just a little more than a plane ride. Yes you can do it for less than a thousand dollars a person. But time is money and one thing people don’t have much of these days is free time for themselves. So instead we have to suffer being crammed into ever-shrinking space in airplanes.
The ocean is ever-changing and yet always seems to remain the same. Now that we are beyond the continental shelf, it is miles deep. There is a vast unknown world out there. It is an awesome and fearful sight. It reminds me of how weak and small we are compared with the power of nature. One can’t help but admire and wonder at the pluck and certainly foolhardiness of those who first crossed it in their fragile wooden boats.
Early this morning we crossed close to the site where the Titanic went down, over a hundred years ago, perpetual reminder of how we are never as smart or clever as we think we are.
Every time I travel (believe me, my travels cannot compare to yours), no matter where I go, I am reminded of my smallness. My troubles seem smaller because of how traveling opens up my tiny, insignificant world. It introduces me to a place that reaches so much farther than my little minivan has the capacity to reach.