It has been more than a month since I came back. I arrived tired, frustrated, not wanting to be here, after all Fiji was the point to depart, not the port to arrive, after all we left here enveloped in the illusion of crossing the Pacific, first sailing to Hawaii, then all the way to the other end, to the American continent, which in the end was our final destination.
But it wasn’t. Neptune didn’t want, Aeolus didn’t allow, the wind disappeared along the lost paradise of Tokelau, green oasis in a desert of water that became warmer each day, devoid of wind, as a true desert that filled our eyes with lost mirages while it deflated our sails, one day, two days, endless days after which a ruthless storm came to definitely push us away from our course, forcing us to finally turn back to the start.
Endless were the days, lost between the relentless storm that battered us outside, and the infinite thunder that echoed inside my head during the long lost hours at sea. Endless were the days, even when serenity took the tempest’s place, doing little to calm the agitated seas of desperation, the frustration of having to turn back and give up. Long were the hours, gazing at the horizon above the sea’s surface, thinking about the what ifs of fate, as in a last breath of a dying affection that one tries vainly to save from its end, spending hours of though and illusion that can do little to avoid the inevitable.
Long were the hours, with my gaze lost in the horizon, eventually finding again in the beauty of the ocean the spark to defeat uncertainty, enveloped in the certainty of this endless unbreakable love, that did not quiver even at the sight of its ugliest face, because a true love, because not even the worst of storms and the most frustrating of trips will be capable of breaking my immense infinite love for the ocean.
I arrived tired, frustrated, not wanting to be here, it was hard to return. The days went by, increasing the probability of being unable to continue my journey, bringing the dreaded certainty of having to take a flight sooner or later. The hours and days in endless work towards the impossible, the growing frustration of not knowing what or how, all compounded in an infinite tiredness.
The temptation to give up was never so strong, so concrete, so real, and the end of a dream with almost three years, in which I invested so much, risked so much, even at moments my own life, the possibility of an end which I never wanted to think possible became concrete, glooming my days and nights as the rain did outside. The end was very near, but fortunately did not arrive.
Instead I resisted, sorely, one day after the next, pushed by a smile, a priceless unselfish help, a possibility that opened up, a strength that came from where there was none, the certainty of wanting to make worth all the hours passed away from my family and friends, from that niece I never met, from all those I love and miss, the certainty of wanting to make worth all those moments lost in the name of a dream which end I could not imagine. Instead I resisted, with difficulty, but thinking of all I have risked, of the whole path I have traveled, of the dream that moves me inside, of what one day awaits for me when I arrive, one with myself, with my bag full of stories and certainties.
Instead I resisted, I fought, and stopped fighting, eventually leaving it all to luck, to God and to all the Gods I have met on the way, resisting till the end, or in the end not resisting at all, letting simply life flow through me and around me, reminding me of the true essence of what is to travel, of this life that is mine, flowing endlessly through me as I do through the roads and seas of the world.
Instead I resisted, despite fatigue and frustration, the dream is still alive, tomorrow is again the time to depart, by sea, again and as always with no haste to arrive.
Suva, Fiji, 20th October 2015
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