The engine was
groaning and struggling to propel the ship against the waves and currents. It
needed a lot of horse power to move because it was a huge tanker of 350 tons,
but the engine was strong and modern and we continued to sail without concern
and worry in our minds about the wild weather that raged outside, in an
unprecedented expression of anger.
The “World
Knowledge”, the huge tanker which, in 1978, was the third largest in the world,
could sail under the most adverse conditions. It was constructed to withstand
the roughest seas without sinking. This is how it was designed in theory and on
paper, and we hoped it was made the same way.
What man-made
thing however can withstand God’s fury? How could science surpass the Creator?
The forces of nature are unsurpassable and only fools dare to stand against
them.
During this
voyage through gale force weather and very rough seas, the waves became
stronger and larger, reaching the dark sky and becoming one with the frightening
angry weather. The sky was as black as bitumen, just like the fear that nestles
in the hearts of seamen when witnessing the extreme deterioration of the
weather and the viciousness of the waves as they become stronger and beat
against anything they come across. Lightning brightened the darkness and the
thunder covered the roar of the sea. The currents combined forces with the
waves and the strong winds, in an unforeseen catastrophic force making our huge
ship look like a nutshell swirling in a maelstrom of nature’s forces.
Despite all of
this, we felt reassured having in mind the good specifications of the ship and
the only thing that worried us was the possibility that such a large ship could
be broken in two when lifted onto its crest by a big wave.
One of the
biggest seaman’s fears during bad weather, are the squalls and storms that put
the safety of the ship at risk.
Many seamen who
cross the oceans in tankers and cargo ships have stories to tell about
unbelievable and surreal yet true occurrences and events they witnessed with
their own eyes. Things and situations they experienced on board ships when
nature violently unleashed her elements in a wild magnificence, dragging ships
and drowning seamen in their wake.
Seamen also say
that, when the sea becomes so rough, nothing stays as it was before, neither
the sea nor the shore, and that Noah’s deluge was nothing more than an outburst
of the sea’s rage.
Some sailors
say that they encountered waves as high as 30 metres and that this is a secret of
the sea kept for many centuries and that science is not aware of them since the
highest waves ever recorded are up to 10 metres. Many, therefore, question
seamen when they describe the existence of gigantic waves and doubt what they
say. Despite this, some seamen insist that they really exist do and that they
embrace ships they meet and lift them to extreme heights, then drop them into
the chasms of the sea. Rarely has a ship survived an encounter with such wave
and not often will one hear a seaman talk about them, since usually nobody
survives to tell the tale.
Such waves may
appear suddenly from nowhere but may also be created by extremely bad weather
and excessively rough seas. While there is a chance for a ship to withstand the
former as they are high but roll smoothly creating even peaks, nobody survives
the latter because they are ruthless and as they move, they form maelstroms and
currents.
During that
long voyage, the sea and the sky created a surreal setting with the waves
reaching the sky and the dull horizon reaching the ends of the Earth fiercely
beautiful and terrifying, filling our hearts with fear and causing worrying
thoughts. The salty water from the waves crashing on the ship was carried by
the wind and hit the thick plates of the ship generating a screeching and
hair-raising sound that pierced our ears while the spray created by the
aftermath clouded the port holes as salty water left its mark on the glass.
The view was
frightening and nightmarish on the one hand but, on the other, our fear was
somewhat set aside by the magnificence of the raging weather.
An artist
experiencing such vision would be greatly inspired. Arion would write
dithyrombs and Euripides tragic and sad poetry.
Many land
dwellers would like to experience the sea at its angriest at some stage of
their life, but they would like to do this from a position of safety, either
through a film or the narration of a seaman, or by reading descriptions of
storms and rough seas.
There are also
many who are afraid of her and do not even want to see her rough, influenced by
many writers who have praised her beauty but also interpreted her fury in its
correct dimensions, and who have described how easily she sank and swallowed
ships and people.
The sea is very
charming for those who have lived and loved her, but she also inspires fear and
true horror for most that have not had the chance to become acquainted with
her. Many do not even dare to board a ship no matter how big and safe it is,
and prefer never to travel and never feel the amazing feeling of a traveler,
never get to know other amazing and beautiful places apart from their own
country, maintaining at the same time the feeling that their own homeland is
the whole world.
The sea is
strange, magical, beautiful. She is a seductress more so than a woman, and
dangerous like fire. When she is calm, she is like a sleeping lover, not
complaining, nor moaning, but when she is enraged, she raises waves and forms
strong currents, both dangerous and deadly. In her depths she hides unnamed
secrets and tragic stories of drowned men and ships that disappeared in the
mist, lost forever. Kelp as big as trees and other flora grow in valleys and
gorges that host beautiful fish but also fairytale dragons that cannot fit in
the imagination of man. Unexplored mysteries human knowledge has never
investigated and will never discover. She rages at a whim and raises huge waves
that darken the sky.
The seas and
the oceans are the children of Gaea and Uranus, the first Titan of the Earth
that created all the bodies of water now existing on Earth.
The blue sea,
the grey sea, the murky sea, the sea of so many colours that change according
to the wind that blows, the currents formed and the atmospheric pressure and
gravity.
The sea that is
sprawled to all corners of the Earth and covers the largest part of Earth’s
surface, that spreads over the horizon and blends with the sky, a union so perfect,
two elements creating one majestic vision, an unfathomable and amazing picture.
The sea is
beautiful and magical, whether she is calm, rough, asleep or raging. She is
mysterious, dangerous and frightening, but she is also well-loved. In her body
she hides unknown, lost and sunken shipwrecks; she hides the entire history of
the world that is around her, since the beginning of time and the creation of
the Earth. Thousands of shipwrecks sit at the bottom of the sea and myriads of
flora and fauna specimen live in the oceans.
The large ship
tore through the big waves with the propeller steadily spinning against the
resistance of the currents. The high waves carried us to their crests exposing
the bow and the stern, both hanging in the void. And we would hear the
screeching sound of the plates balancing the weight of the ship without the
support of the water and the metal hull crackling hollowly and hair-raisingly,
and then we would hear the sound of the ship crashing back and sinking into the
water.
But the “World
Knowledge” was an enormous tanker, the third biggest in the world and could
sail through the worst weather conditions as it was built to withstand the
biggest tempests without sinking. This was the design of the ship in theory and
on paper, and this was how well it was made, to carry us safely. And, as
seamen, so we hoped.
THE BERMUDA TRIANGLE
Stories and
myths have attributed these disappearances to paranormal activity, and this is the
reason why many scientists claim that this is a myth because, after
investigations, no evidence of paranormal activity was found.
However, the
incidents that took place are many and unexplained and for this reason this
location is also known as the Devil’s Triangle.
There are
countless theories about the mysterious disappearances, some relating to
natural and others to paranormal phenomena.
The inhabitants
of this area have their own stories about the mysterious disappearances, their
own versions about the Bermuda Triangle and call it the witches’ place because of
strange evidence that was found in the sea. The wreck of a metal ship that went
down with all hands aboard stands at 300 metres depth unaffected and in the
same good condition, sitting for many decades on the bottom of the sea in an unnatural
position, and scientists cannot explain why it remains unchanged by the passage
of time and the wear and tear in salt water. Many stories are being told and,
because the instances of disappearances in the area are countless and increasing,
the infamy of the Triangle relating to passed shipwrecks and mysterious
disappearances are starting to be analysed under the light of myth and paradox.
The crew of the
ship had a discussion regarding the surreal and paradoxical stories of events
that happened as told by many seamen. During this time the shipping company of
Stavros Niarchos, my employer, had entered into a contract to carry out a
number of routes for the transportation of petrol from Libya to Freeport in
America.
I had finished
my service on the ship “Eurenie S. Niarchos” and was immediately recruited on
my fourth ship of the same company. It was the “World Knowledge”, a huge tanker
both in size and tonnage, the third largest in the world. It could take 350
thousand tons and was over 500 metres long.
Because it was too big to tie up in ports it usually anchored in deep
waters and loaded and unloaded from platforms. This was the ship I happened to
be working on at the time.
Our route
started from the terminal in Libya and after sailing the Mediterranean, we
entered the Atlantic Ocean. With the Bahamas as our destination, we passed through
the dangerous waters of the Bermuda Triangle and arrived in Freeport to
discharge our cargo.
On official
maps the area of the Bermuda Triangle is not mentioned as such nor is it
recognised, it is simply mentioned orally as an imaginary area created by
people. Despite this, the mystery around this area is real, and so are the
aircraft and ships that were lost.
It was a quiet
winter night, the sea was calm and the sky was covered in stars. There were no
clouds covering their brightness.
The only thing reminiscent
of winter was the sharp cold and all of us who were not on shift gathered early
in the warm sitting area to watch a film the reels of which we had secured at
the previous port. It was a documentary about the dangerous waters of the
Bermuda Triangle, precisely where our ship was sailing at that very moment.
It was a very
interesting documentary with quite a mysterious theme, covering the strange and
inexplicable things that happened in this sea, and it made our imagination run
away with us, allowing a feeling of fear and unease to take over. Strange
thoughts entered my mind and as I was very young, I was easily influenced and
fell into a spiral of fear and paranormal theories on the strange phenomena
taking place in this sea. I started thinking that maybe it would be our luck
and the same would happen to us, if not during this voyage, maybe during the
next, or the one after that, or another, since the ship was to carry out
several voyages through this sea.
With worrying
thoughts swirling in my head but also a lot of curiosity, after the film was
over I went out onto the stern deck to see the notorious Devil’s sea where so
many inexplicable things had happened and upon which it was our fate to be
sailing at that very moment.
I saw the sea all
black and dark, the stars unable to light it with even a little reflection of
their brightness. It looked like bitumen, exactly as it would be if it were the
Devil’s. Even the waters churned by the propeller were not white but also
remained dark. I thought it was weird and unnatural that, under the bright
light of the stars shining in the sky, the sea remained so incredibly dark.
Something did not seem normal, something seemed to be in the atmosphere,
something paranormal, something out of this world. Something that was probably
only in my thoughts, but which affected my imagination and caused me to have
worryingly scary thoughts.
I looked
intensely towards the length of the horizon trying to distinguish something there
apart from the absolute darkness, even if just a shadow. I needing to pacify my
affected thoughts and convince myself that we were not sailing over an unnatural
sea in another dimension to which we were possibly transported by paranormal
phenomena happening in this damned sea of the triangle.
I looked up at
the stars in the sky and I was taken over by an even bigger worry because I saw
some of them fade slowly and unhurriedly, gradually becoming extinguished and
dark, allowing the solid darkness to take their place. The whole ship was
immersed in darkness and the only indication of light was the sliver of
brightness shining through the crack of the metal door leading inside the ship.
There was no
indication of any natural threat emanating from the sea, it was just a deep
feeling of fear within myself that was born from stories told by people who
claimed these had happened, weird and disturbing stories that upset my
subconscious and caused phobias to grow within my conscious mind.
I leaned on the
railings and stood immobile like a statue, feeling a threat permeating the atmosphere.
My imagination was galloping out of control and bringing to the surface of my memory
stories about this place that I had watched previously in the documentary. I
shivered with the fear that I felt was slowly going through me. I tried to
convince myself that the impregnable darkness that had just enveloped us was
not due to unnatural or paranormal phenomena taking place in the area but was
probably due to the weather and that fog and cloud had covered the stars and
the sea creating this absolute darkness, this bottomless, black colour of the night
which suddenly covered us and brought terrible thoughts to my mind that, like
the ancient Furies, upset my whole existence….
I am not aware
of how much time passed, but my bad thoughts had caused me to stay immobile for
a while, until at some stage I was made aware that the darkness was fading and was
being replaced by the rosy light of dawn, while the black colour of the sea
also started turning blue, the natural colour of water and sky.
It was the
beginning of a new day, an ordinary day like so many others and, as the light
disbursed my dark, bad thoughts, I realised with relief that they were most
possibly creations of my mind.
ENGINE REPAIR IN ROUGH SEAS
The Greek
captains and ship owners thought, “why load products in barrels onto the ships
and not build ships like barrels, with tanks in their cargo holds?”
And so, the
Greeks were the first to build tanker cargo ships. Firstly, they were small but
later became much larger.
During the
reign of Onassis and Niarchos, beyond all logic, they built tankers exceeding a
350 thousand tonnage.
The “World
Knowledge” was a 350-thousand-ton ship and it was carrying us across the
Pacific to our destination, Korea. The sea was rough, but the huge ship tore
through it with ease.
I thought it
was going to be an easy voyage without problems and without any serious
incident in the engine room as the ship was quite new and all machinery was
automatic and of the latest technology.
We were
heading to the port of Seoul and a few days into the voyage we entered the
Yellow Sea of China where we found rough seas that were worsening fast.
The Yellow
Sea took its name from the colour of silt and sand carried down into the sea by
rivers. It takes on a yellow colour during the strong storms that frequently
hit it. So, the sea was yellow, and the atmosphere had changed. The wind picked
up and the day became darker.
As if the
deterioration of the weather and the yellow sand from the deserts of Chine in
the atmosphere were not enough, one of the engine’s pistons decided to break.
The engine
had eight huge pistons that moved the propeller. It was not easy for it to move
with only seven, because this would cause even more damage. We needed to anchor
and change the broken piston. The ship carried all the necessary spare parts
and the senior engineer officers had good knowledge on how to proceed with the
repair of the engine. Had we been in port, we would receive assistance from
shore but as we were in the middle of the sea and in a raging storm, all the
hard work needed to be carried out by us. The problem we were facing was the
roughness of the sea that was getting worse by the minute and a ship, without a
working engine, is out of control and at the mercy of the weather.
We anchored
and got to work. It was a difficult job, and dangerous, because the ship was
rolling and pitching, and this did not allow us to work. The broken piston was
huge, so huge that, when we removed it, we hung into the cylinder where we
fitted with ease and started polishing it. It was an arduous task that
exhausted us, and the constant rolling and pitching kept changing our direction
of gravity. While hanging in the cylinder, we needed to maintain a steady
position and balance, with our knees resting on the walls, in order to have the
necessary strength to scrape the petrified soot caused by burning fuel.
There were
only a few members of engine crew because the ship was state of the art and
automated.
Everything
was operated from a control room within the engine room which was a huge room
with consoles, boards and panels covered in all necessary indicators and switches
which, with the correct handling, gave the relevant message to the engine and
auxiliary machinery. All of us, even the First Engineer, got down to work. The
risks were high, the sea was getting worse and, in case the current turned us
against the weather, and we were hit by a large wave from the side, we could
sink.
Three days
and nights, we all worked very hard without sleep or rest. Others were rubbing
the heads with emery powder and others were preparing the new piston that was
stowed for a long time next to the engine. It took a lot of work to clean,
polish and prepare it. However, the difficult work was carried out in the
cylinder. We waited for hours until it cooled down, and then we had to remove
huge amounts of petrified soot that were attached to the walls because of the
damage. Only one man fitted inside at a time, so we took it in turns to hang,
and using scrapers and cutters, we first scraped and then polished well,
without leaving any trace of any substance on the interior metal.
The first
engineer was a really cool guy, a man with an imposing personality who did not
use yelling and anger but only good manners. He had a foreign sounding name,
Gatagas. It’s the only first engineer’s name from my entire nautical career I
still remember today, after so many years, because we never called the first
engineer by his name as it was customary to address him with the English term
“Chief”. He was always polite and approachable and was highly appreciated by
the entire crew, and especially us, the engineers.
He summoned
us all in the control room and calmly described our situation. He explained
that shutting down the engine in such rough seas was a great risk, but we could
not do otherwise. For this reason, we needed to surpass ourselves and work
without rest in order to change the piston as fast as possible before a big
wave took us under.
With the
threat of imminent danger and with great responsibility we all set to work
under the guidance of our first officer. The second and third engineers, the
junior engineer (me), oilers and cleaner, we threw ourselves into the hard
battle against time to beat the weather.
The day
passed, and so did the first night. We held out well and withstood. We ate on
the go, we practically forgot what coffee was, and did not even stop for a
smoke.
The second
night came upon us and we had not yet finished. Our worry increased because the
weather was getting worse and fatigue started leaving its mark upon us. When we
entered the cool air of the control room for a coffee, no matter how hard we
tried not to fall asleep on the chair, our eyes would close on their own
accord. I remember it like it was yesterday; I would force my eyes to remain
open with my fingers. I remember well that I allowed one to close and rest, and
then the other, while with my fingers I held on to my eyelids, in a desperate
attempt not to sleep. Despite the effort, however, I remember that for a few
seconds, Morpheus would get the better of me and would throw me into a few
seconds of sleep, full of disturbed dreams, some nightmarish and some pleasing.
In split seconds I had glimpses of dreams containing real and imaginary events,
parading in front of me as if real, like a cinematographic film in fast forward
mode. I saw us teetering on the crest of a wave and then diving into deep
darkness, I saw us immersed in murky waters unable to breathe, and, as if
moonstruck, would jerk awake trying to catch my breath. I even saw us floating
in calm waters under a blue sky with low flying seagulls, a good omen, a sign that
we were approaching our destination. And me, standing against the railings and
gazing into the horizon trying to catch a glimpse of dry land.
The second
night passed, dawn was upon us and at last, we finished. We tightened the last
bolt and made a final general check. The First Engineer informed the captain
and received an order for “ahead slow”. Crossing himself, he pushed the
parallel control and started the big engine. Everything was OK, we slowly
picked up speed and at the same time we felt the ship steadying itself and the
pitching and rolling reduced. The mighty engine was turning the axel
effortlessly and the propeller pushed the water back and thrusted us forward,
hurriedly leaving behind the rough sea in anticipation of entering the safe harbour
of Seoul.
IN SEOUL
Man has the
charisma of adapting to the difficulties he faces, by acquiring abilities, and
developing particular behaviours and habits that he incorporates in his way of
living as a means to make his life easier.
Therefore,
when a sailor spends most of his life on ships, when he mingles with a handful
of people, namely his colleagues, his range of interests remains limited. When
he lives away from his family for a long time, his desire to return causes
nostalgia and sadness. So, it is natural to invent ways of breaking the
monotony of his everyday life, ways that a land dweller would not turn to
because of having alternative solutions that are unavailable to a seaman. Some
seamen, while battling with the unworldly elements of the sea, acquire
boundless knowledge because, as they sail all the seas on Earth, they become
omniscient philosophers, and with wisdom though experience, pass onto others,
knowledge about things and undiscovered wonders that are hidden in the oceans’
depths.
Oceangoing
ships undertake voyages that take many days and their crews anticipate the few
hours when they tie in a port somewhere, and desperately seek means to
entertain themselves and let off steam.
So, at each
port there are places for the entertainment of seamen. Knowing the intense wish
of their customers to let off steam and freely spend their money, some clever
businessmen have adapted entertainment to fit the needs of sailors, and in
particular, Greek sailors, as in those days most of the ships were Greek. In
many countries with big ports with a capacity for many ships, there were Greek
entertainment establishments. Cape Town, New Orleans, Costanza, Rotterdam,
everywhere.
The monster
tanker “World Knowledge”, my last ship, tied up in the port of Seoul during the
early hours of the morning. By then, I was on the ship for about ten months.
Life on this ship was good, it had every comfort. There was a large library
with all sorts of books and a beautiful area to relax, where I sat during my
endless off duty hours, leafing through and reading books. During the voyage to
Seoul, I looked up Korea and was informed of the country’s history.
Seoul is the
capital and the largest city of South Korea. The city served as the capital
during old dynasties and after the establishment of the Republic of Korea in
1948, became the capital once more and was considered the main city of the
nation. It is one of the most densely populated cities in the world.
Korea had
been taken over by Japan in 1895. The Japanese occupation was brutal, it forced
the population into forced labour and the women into obligatory prostitution
for the needs of the occupation armies.
A little
before the fall of Japan, Russian and American troops invaded the country and
agreed on its division.
The
Communists settled in the North of the country and the western forces settled
in the South. In 1950, North Korea invaded South Korea starting a civil war
that lasted three years in which Greek troops also participated, as allies of
the USA.
The war
ended after three years with a treaty, basically leaving things in the same
place as they were when it had started, without victors, but having been a
terrible tragedy with many victims and no benefit to either side.
Since then,
there is a cold war in progress between the two sides, an unproclaimed hidden
war of provocation and altercation.
At the time
of my voyage to the country, America was more dominant in the world than the
Soviet Union, but this did not give us a great feeling of security because
Russia was still the super power that supported the dictatorial and
unpredictable regime of North Korea.
Therefore,
as we were advised by the Captain, we ventured into the town cautiously,
looking to do some shopping and have some fun. While the city is one of the
most densely populated cities of the world, there was little traffic on the
streets. The shops were meagre and had no wares of interest to us. We walked
the streets without finding anything of interest. We passed a hair dressing
salon two-three times and the two girls inside smiled at us. On our third time,
the electrician and I decided to go in. We had just shaved on the ship, but
since they were inviting us in such a nice way, and since they were also
beautiful girls, we went in.
Immediately
the little hairdressers welcomed us and sat us down on the chairs. The spoke
very little English, so understanding each other was difficult. I was young and
hardly had a beard and while aboard the ship I only shaved every now and then
when we were in port. During this voyage, my only blade turned out to be blunt
and this resulted in me scraping my skin and I was now in pain. However, the
young girl was very good at her job. She first applied cream and then
compresses to soothe the skin and lessen the pain. Afterwards, with great care
she cut the hairs one by one with an old fashioned and very sharp blade, with
her soft and skilful fingers and hands.
The shop was
not busy, and our treatment lasted quite a while. We felt we were in good hands
and relaxed. They treated our face, our hair, the nails on our fingers and
toes, they even gave us a light massage with their experienced hands. We really
enjoyed the treatment.
With their
little English and mostly with sign language, we managed to understand each
other and when we asked them out on a date, they happily agreed.
It was the
afternoon and the young girls were coming off work in a few hours. To pass the
time we walked around the city and at the agreed time, I met my date at a
café-restaurant on the same street.
A young man
with long hair, most probably a hippy, was strumming an electric guitar and
sang popular songs of the time. Next to him he had a classical guitar and I
thought that he was probably a classic guitarist who, due to popular demand,
also played an electric guitar.
We had
planned to eat, relax and listen to music and then, whatever the night brought.
The food on
the menu was different to the European food I was accustomed to, and so I
ordered crab as a starter, and then a steak with a strange name in the menu,
food I thought I knew. My new friend ordered her own, and, while waiting to be
served, we continued getting to know each other.
I was
presented with a giant boiled crab in a huge plate. The taste was exquisite and
gave me an appetite for more. After a while, the chef came out of the kitchen
with two assistants and stood at our table. One of the assistants held a small
frying pan brimming with hot oil that was still sizzling from too much heat and
he placed it on a counter, inside a big plate. The chef picked up a monstrous
raw beef steak and put it in the overheated oil and cracked two eggs on top.
With grandiose movements, he then proceeded to serve me, wishing me Bonne
Appetit.
I watched
the whole procedure incredulously but being in a foreign country I decided not
to express any doubt. The eggs were cooked but the steak merely changed colour;
when I sliced into it, it oozed live blood.
So, I ate
the eggs and left the steak untouched, as I preferred my meat well done, and
not practically raw. In a foreign country where the Captain had advised we be
careful, I decided to stay silent and not protest. In any case, I felt sure
that this is how the Koreas ate their food.
The crab and
the eggs proved to be a full meal and my hunger was well sated. I ordered two
brandy cokes and we leaned back in the comfortable chairs to enjoy the
guitarist’s music. At some point, he started playing a Greek nostalgic song by
Xatzidakis which left me listening ecstatically. The musician understood this
and played another, then another and I was overjoyed, sang along with him and
applauded enthusiastically.
The musician
was pleased to have found an audience and leaned over to pick up one of the
score books scattered on the floor beside him. He picked up a thick one and
placed it on the stand. He continued playing Greek Xatzidakis and Theodorakis
music and the exquisite melodies filled the place. There were a few customers,
but they also focused on the notes filling the atmosphere, a true sign that
they were enjoying the lovely Greek music.
The musician
had abandoned his electric guitar and took the classic guitar in his hands,
strummed it softly and beautifully as he played. I had never heard music being
played so amazingly. He gave the songs such colour and his unprecedented
execution together with the equally amazing Greek melodies bewitched our ears.
The classic
guitar is not necessarily a particular musical instrument. The term classic
simply indicates an artistic creation that has a time defying and ecumenical
value.
The artist I
came across in this faraway country was a brilliant virtuoso and as I listened,
I was ecstatic and enjoyed the sweet melodies floating in the atmosphere. I
dedicated myself to listening to him and ignored my date a little, but she also
showed the same attention to the heavenly music.
Greek music
has a special place in all countries of the world, and I love it. Countless
songs have been translated and sung in the most unlikely languages. Here as
well, our virtuoso guitarist, mostly playing but also singing just a little,
sang songs of Greek giants Hatzidakis and Theodorakis in his language.
The hours
slipped by and, while enjoying the music and with the help of some alcoholic beverages,
as “wine gladdens the heart”, I reached a happy and pleasant state and told
myself I wished daybreak would never come. It satisfied and lifted my soul
which brought some feeling of relief to my immeasurable nostalgia for my
country as I had been away from Cyprus for over four years.
The kind
musician did not stop playing at all, responding to the happiness that he saw
spreading all over my face. He played Greek songs by the two composers non-stop
until, oh no, the time reached twelve o’clock. It was his time to stop, but for
me, he continued playing. With good will, I wanted to actively thank him, so I
put my hand in my pocket. I had 200 Euro and I offered half to him as a tip. He
didn’t want to accept it, but nobody says no to money, so with a little
insistence from me, he accepted it with many thanks.
And this is
a seaman’s life, adapted to fit into the conditions imposed by life at sea,
sometimes bitter and sometimes sweet.
