A Bit of the Mundane: A Two-Parter

En Route to Ushuaia

Early mornings. Little sleep. Last flight. I want to spread out. I find it uncomfortable to have my entire life smooshed into three bags and a guitar case. Despite my current discomfort, I am still able to close my eyes and imagine what my daily routine will look like in two weeks or so, when everything has settled down and I am (finally!) at sea.

…Reading a collection of correspondences between the great writer Vladimir Nabokov and close friend and famous literary critic Edmund Wilson. I forget what a joy V.N. is to read. As John Updike proclaims on the back cover of any new edition of Nabokov’s novels, “Nabokov writes prose the only way it should be written, that is, ecstatically.” The world needs its polymaths back.

A bit of the mundane. We were just served (crustless!) ham and cheese sandwiches here on my flight. Yeahh! I feel like I am eight-years-old, tops. Further, the passengers sitting beside me just offered me theirs’! (Did I relish mine that obviously?) I declined the sandwiches, but did take their chocolate cookie puffs. For later.

The forecast in Ushuaia calls for partly cloudy skies, the temp just above freezing. Colder than I expected, but spring is just about to have sprung, so I suppose.

Time to close my eyes.

From the Villa Brescia Hotel, Downtown Ushuaia

In one piece, and a series of nice surprises have made this day great. First, I have a room to myself. With a king sized bed that I am currently stretched out upon. Took a nice long shower, went down to a staff meeting where most of us were told to “just relax” (such blissful words!) until the Lyubov Orlova arrives on the ninth or the tenth (which in turn makes this the calm before the storm, seeing as we will have 24 to 48 hours to set up the ship before passengers arrive) but shhhhh…I can sleep in tomorrow and the next day and the next day, and the next… and I don’t have to fly anywhere.

Ushuaia is enchanting. It is ensconced on three sides by steep, white, forboding mountains that are in turn ensconced by low-drifting grey clouds. To the south is the Beagle Channel. Here the water is placid – no hint at the wild caused by the Pacific’s head-on collision with the Atlantic mere kilometres away where the channel opens out to sea. The town itself is quaint – European in architecture, with narrow streets and a steep steep hill that leads up from the pier. And the tulips are in bloom.

Walked around Ushuaia a bit today, grabbed some lunch, then had a coffee with two dining room servers, Phillip and his girlfriend, Steffie, and Stefano, a sous chef. I already love these people. Hello my name is…and I speak how many languages? Probably three. Fluently, which is the number one reason I am inherently envious of Europeans. And they’re funny as all hell and interesting and smart and lovely. We’re going to be a good group.

And maybe it’s a bit of the old Stockholm Syndrome talking, but I kinda can’t wait for the Lyubov Orlova to get here, to get settled in and get sailing. Yeah, that’s the Stockholm Syndrome talking for sure. Or delirium. It could be that I just need a nap.