As I write, we are gliding on calm waters somewhere in the North Atlantic Ocean, making our way for New York. We are on a beautiful, large ocean liner, the Queen Mary II. The sea has not been rough. The past couple of days, the ocean has been as black as obsidian under stern clouds, and this morning it was so foggy that one could hardly see a few yards past the railing. I looked out again, though, just before noon, and to my astonishment, the fog had vanished, and the sea is now a striking turquoise under a clear sky, with pastel-hued clouds streaking the horizons. It is a glorious sight.
We have all been faring well on our voyage. Before we departed for New York, we spent several days in England, where we were showered with hospitality by friends of my Mom’s from Essex, and indeed everywhere we went. We also saw the sights of London for an afternoon, including the Tower of London.
< All together again, London >
I’m still curious how I’ll react when I enter the land of Wal-Marts and the home of the Hummer H2 once again, although New York is as good as foreign territory for us Oregonians anyway when it comes to cultural perceptions. I do think it definitely helps to return in stages. Another benefit of this is the slowly adjusting time difference. Since the second day at sea, the clock has been shifting back one hour each day. I should be using this hour to get some extra sleep, but I’ve tended instead to add an extra hour to my day.
We speed on through the waters. In a couple of days, the Statue of Liberty will come into view over the waters, beckoning, and I will arrive in my homeland. I will see the same sight that so many thousands saw as they glimpsed America for the first time, their uncertainty about emigrating from the land and life they’d always known, most likely never to return, to come to a strange land… that fear perhaps quelled by their excitement at the chance to build a new life.
How things have changed! Ocean liners are now equipped with electronic navigation systems, stabilizers, satellite internet access, not to mention all the comforts of a hotel even for “steerage” passengers. Cramped airline seats and plastic food, while not pleasant, have thankfully replaced the worse discomforts of emigrating by ship in those bygone days.
My reasons for traveling, of course, are much different, as are the times in which I live, but I can’t help but feel the ghosts of history over this ancient route: My ancestors came to America from Europe over these seas, and my heritage and cultural roots lie firmly in Europe. Will I return to the continent they came from and build a new life there? When, how, or even if, I do not know.
Whatever the case, I’m certainly starting a new adventure. As I’ve strolled the deck, the verses of Walt Whitman have often come to mind:
O we can wait no longer,
We too take ship O soul,
Joyous we too launch out on trackless seas,
Fearless for unknown shores on waves of ecstasy to sail,
Amid the wafting winds…
Caroling free, singing our song of God,
Chanting our chant of pleasant exploration.
O daring joy, but safe! are they not all seas of God?
< First evening at sea, off the coast of England >
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