Takes One to Know One

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The gulls that were lined up so prettily along the break water when I went to bed kept me up late into the night. First one would start squawking, then screeching, inciting others to join in until they reached such an unearthly crescendo you would think every monster on earth was crawling out of his cave to get them. Then, as quickly as they started, they all quieted down with a disgruntled squawk every now and then before erupting into another awful ruckus. I would have taken freeway noise over this any day, at least freeway noise is consistent.

I braved downtown again and four cruise ships worth of tourists. I needn’t have been bothered by distracting scenery while studying when the library windows looked into the rooms of a Princes ship.

I really can’t stand tourist season, in as much as I can’t stand tourists. Hypocritical of me because I love traveling and am frequently unable to escape the label. I simply hate being noticed for being different. I dislike not being a part of the environment, of noticeably not belonging, of standing out and being dubbed stupid on many levels. By the time I arrived back in London in the summer of 2006 after three months of back packing Europe, I had developed ways in which to blend in with the locals. Easier when you are a Caucasian of English descent (even still, my German heritage was still plainly pronounced and commented on) and had shopped the market in Paris for chick European styles. I also developed a way of walking, uncow-like and seemingly indifferent to life around me. I also started folding street maps up so small that I could hold them in the palm of my hand and glance at them when I turned a corner.

My proudest moment arrived when I was sitting outside in a park watching a hawk trainer chase pigeons away from the statues. A Brit approached me to ask for directions—I blended in that well! I smiled, and replied in my very American accent, that I was sorry but I did not know where so-and-so was and that I myself had not been here long. She thanked me and left, not seeming too surprised at my foolery.

That brings me to another subject, no matter where one goes, whether it is Alaska, Hawaii, Europe, Caribbean--wherever—one should never take a cruise ship! Perhaps I am too individualistic, but the thought of milling about with people too lazy and afraid to plan and embark upon an adventure all on their own makes me ashamed to call myself a traveler.

Real people get out of the box. They find their own roads, eat local foods, talk with people from that country and try to blend in. They give up self and share life with others. How can one grow and become when they choose to bring their own life with them?

I understand the realization that comes with not having to plan. But to lose out on the unique adventures found when a person only has themselves to rely on is an adventure not to be missed, in my opinion. Yet, if I was offered a chance to go on a free cruise, I wouldn’t say no. So maybe I am a bit of a hypocrite. But I take from personal experience, and as they say, it takes one to know one.

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Photos

Wild Rose
Alaskan rose hips. When these turn red yo can peel off the outer layer and eat it. I read that they have more vitamin C than an orange.

FishNPohl
My grandparents built the boat back in the seventies, fished it ten years, then sold it to my parents.

Food Fight
Fulmars and black-footed albatross fighting over a fish carcass. We were pulling a halibut line back in June when this was taken.