On September 14th after a 4 day wedding affair and a stop over to see some Little Harbour friends in Portland, ME I flew to St. Louis for 7 days of catching up with friends, music, dancing, thinking, reading, and biking. I got every thing I needed out of this trip. Seeing my friends made me realize that 9 months post-grad, school is a lot of work and I’m not ready to jump into it any time soon. There is too much living to do to spend so much time in a library. Watching them learn through the liberal arts also made me see how much I’ve learned simply by talking, walking, traveling, and eating the last 9 months. With an open mind I’ve taken opportunity and life as it came. It turns out my path is pretty beautifully blessed for now. The week in St. Louis slowed me down a little and gave me some time to think about where I’ve been, and what the people I’ve meet, grown with, and loved have taught me during this first stint in adult freedom.
Other highlights of my St. Louis trip were an impromptu bike ride and concert in Forest Park with community member Jim. He literally knocked on Becca’s door and I answered. He didn’t know I was in town so it was a surprise for both of us. We rode over to Forest Park for the St. Louis Symphony orchestras kick off to their fall season. They set up the entire orchestra on art hill and played snippets of all the performances they have planned for the season. Jim and I shared a long and needed update about our lives while eating pastrami sandwiches and cheesecake from the hill. An hour of free outdoor symphony was topped off with a surprise fireworks show in the cool September night. From there Jim helped me through the city streets on a road bike back to campus to meet up with more friends.
On Friday I went to Sulard market and the international food store to gather ingredients for a curry dinner party. The curry was a success and the dancing at Novak’s was fun, but couldn’t compare to colossal nights spent there during my last semester. I miss a certain blonde community member who always keeps me dancing.
The week was full of lunches and coffees with professors, friends, writing sessions, and the career counselor (dun dun dun). These exercises in sharing my story and the millions of ideas and possibilities whirling through my head were needed. Everyone I encountered told me to keep riding the wave (in so many words). Each person reminded me as I often need to remind myself – you are young, free, and don’t need all the answers right now.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Peace in Maine
Camden, ME
The gift of time was restored in my life abruptly but peacefully five days ago. After five weeks on Motor Yacht Orly I walked out of the six foot by five foot cubby hole crew quarters for the last time. In hindsight it was a short tour, but during the day to day of the trip the days ticked off like grains of sand forced to fall one granule at a time counting down to eternity. But this is not a space or a time to tell stories of my five weeks of entrapment and subsequent waning confidence. The friends, family, and strangers who come across these words need to know how happy, grateful, well-taken care, and stronger I am today in this present moment.
One week ago with cash in pocket and duffel bag in hand I finished my contract and walked away from Orly. Jumped in a cab to Penn Station, New York City. Then after a coffee and friendly conversation and a little mutual venting with the bus dispatcher I climbed on the Megabus to Boston, Ma. With sleep and crucial miles to separate me from the boat I started the reconstruction of myself. The Bus dropped me off in Boston where I walked a few blocks to the Public Library to wait for Ben. With a whirl wind pick up off the street corner we were together again in a different time and city. This instant feeling of freedom and happiness sprayed over me. The muscles in my back relaxed and my brain began to smile. A quick overnight with Ben’s friend in Boston and we were on the road again headed North to Camden Maine.
The trip to Maine takes 4 hours on paper, but Ben and I stretched it into a whole day with poignantly placed pit stops. We followed a two-lane highway in search of Jamaican jerk chicken. Ben discovered the roadside drum pan chicken stand during a previous season. With a little luck we found it easily. It is only appropriate that the first thing I ate as an island transplant in coastal Maine was a curry chicken Jamaican patty. No lobster rolls craved or needed that day. The food was excellent and the atmosphere as authentic as possible in a climate that can’t support palm trees. A fence made out of pine logs made the hill into a terrace where an inviting hammock was slung between two pines. Bob Marley piped in through speakers attached to the small cook house. Seating was entirely out doors and as it should be, ever surface sported red, green and yellow. The proprietor was a healthy and smiling Jamaican women and an older thinning but strong Jamican manned the drum pan. After eating our fill of jerk chicken and meat pies we took a few more chicken patties (food of the gods) to go and hit the road. Other stops along the way included a surf shop to outfit Ben with a new space age like wetsuit. Full and newly geared up we made the final leg North towards Camden.
As we came close to Camden hills started to rise out of the two lane road. We arrived with enough strength and sunlight to rally some crew for a sunset sail into the bay and beer and pizza at Paullina’s Way. After a haisty escape from Charleston, 35 days north bound on Orly, a bus, and a three hundred mile car ride I entered a word of green, cherished sunshine, excellent company, and most importantly peace.
Camden is a place I am only beginning to discover through nature and encounters with its residence. A place that makes you fell alive and gave me an incredible respite after hitting some major lows during the last weeks on Orly. I walked into a beautiful community and home that has captured Ben. He makes a good guide and after five days of relaxing I think I’ll make a better student and exhibitioner. As I discover the landscape in prime season each day feels like a gift- mountains, lakes, rivers, rocks, oceans, and incredible boating grounds. It is another chapter of my wondering and as I settle into it I remind myself to write and absorb each day in gratitude for its gifts and knowledge.
Shark-bit, Camden Harbor
Schooner at sunset, Camden Harbor
Love,
Amanda Mar
Camden, Me
The gift of time was restored in my life abruptly but peacefully five days ago. After five weeks on Motor Yacht Orly I walked out of the six foot by five foot cubby hole crew quarters for the last time. In hindsight it was a short tour, but during the day to day of the trip the days ticked off like grains of sand forced to fall one granule at a time counting down to eternity. But this is not a space or a time to tell stories of my five weeks of entrapment and subsequent waning confidence. The friends, family, and strangers who come across these words need to know how happy, grateful, well-taken care, and stronger I am today in this present moment.
One week ago with cash in pocket and duffel bag in hand I finished my contract and walked away from Orly. Jumped in a cab to Penn Station, New York City. Then after a coffee and friendly conversation and a little mutual venting with the bus dispatcher I climbed on the Megabus to Boston, Ma. With sleep and crucial miles to separate me from the boat I started the reconstruction of myself. The Bus dropped me off in Boston where I walked a few blocks to the Public Library to wait for Ben. With a whirl wind pick up off the street corner we were together again in a different time and city. This instant feeling of freedom and happiness sprayed over me. The muscles in my back relaxed and my brain began to smile. A quick overnight with Ben’s friend in Boston and we were on the road again headed North to Camden Maine.
The trip to Maine takes 4 hours on paper, but Ben and I stretched it into a whole day with poignantly placed pit stops. We followed a two-lane highway in search of Jamaican jerk chicken. Ben discovered the roadside drum pan chicken stand during a previous season. With a little luck we found it easily. It is only appropriate that the first thing I ate as an island transplant in coastal Maine was a curry chicken Jamaican patty. No lobster rolls craved or needed that day. The food was excellent and the atmosphere as authentic as possible in a climate that can’t support palm trees. A fence made out of pine logs made the hill into a terrace where an inviting hammock was slung between two pines. Bob Marley piped in through speakers attached to the small cook house. Seating was entirely out doors and as it should be, ever surface sported red, green and yellow. The proprietor was a healthy and smiling Jamaican women and an older thinning but strong Jamican manned the drum pan. After eating our fill of jerk chicken and meat pies we took a few more chicken patties (food of the gods) to go and hit the road. Other stops along the way included a surf shop to outfit Ben with a new space age like wetsuit. Full and newly geared up we made the final leg North towards Camden.
As we came close to Camden hills started to rise out of the two lane road. We arrived with enough strength and sunlight to rally some crew for a sunset sail into the bay and beer and pizza at Paullina’s Way. After a haisty escape from Charleston, 35 days north bound on Orly, a bus, and a three hundred mile car ride I entered a word of green, cherished sunshine, excellent company, and most importantly peace.
Camden is a place I am only beginning to discover through nature and encounters with its residence. A place that makes you fell alive and gave me an incredible respite after hitting some major lows during the last weeks on Orly. I walked into a beautiful community and home that has captured Ben. He makes a good guide and after five days of relaxing I think I’ll make a better student and exhibitioner. As I discover the landscape in prime season each day feels like a gift- mountains, lakes, rivers, rocks, oceans, and incredible boating grounds. It is another chapter of my wondering and as I settle into it I remind myself to write and absorb each day in gratitude for its gifts and knowledge.
Ben and the moon, Camden Harbor
Shark-bit, Camden Harbor
Schooner at sunset, Camden Harbor
Love,
Amanda Mar
Camden, Me
Friday, August 7, 2009
Very Quck Update
Hello All,
I have been without a computer the last 3 weeks and a lot has happened. I got a job on a 94 foot SunSeeker. I'm the Stuart/Cook for a family of six traveling up the east coast for the summer. I'm currently in Martha's Vinyard. Headed to Nantucket and back to New York city where my contract ends on August 18. I like the work and am enjoying traveling. Life is good when I steel little moments for myself and enjoy the places we are visiting. After I'm done with this job I'll be visiting some peopled from the Bahamas in Cape Cod and Maine. Then looking for more work. I will write a more elequent update when I have access to my computer and the internet. Which may still be weeks away. For now know that I'm safe living out the master plan I crafted a year ago. I miss all of you and miss owning my time. But it's a good job with lots of perks. I'm plunging and living and life is good.
Love,
Amanda
I have been without a computer the last 3 weeks and a lot has happened. I got a job on a 94 foot SunSeeker. I'm the Stuart/Cook for a family of six traveling up the east coast for the summer. I'm currently in Martha's Vinyard. Headed to Nantucket and back to New York city where my contract ends on August 18. I like the work and am enjoying traveling. Life is good when I steel little moments for myself and enjoy the places we are visiting. After I'm done with this job I'll be visiting some peopled from the Bahamas in Cape Cod and Maine. Then looking for more work. I will write a more elequent update when I have access to my computer and the internet. Which may still be weeks away. For now know that I'm safe living out the master plan I crafted a year ago. I miss all of you and miss owning my time. But it's a good job with lots of perks. I'm plunging and living and life is good.
Love,
Amanda
Friday, July 10, 2009
Charleston Winding Down
I completed the coast safety coarse required for crew on international vessels. The first ticket of many and a boost up towards finding my first professional crew job. Learning more and more how to network with people. In this business connections are everything. I’m getting much more comfortable sticking my neck out there to find job opportunities. The training itself was basic, but my biggest challenge came on Thursday. I suffered some heat exhaustion after standing around in full fire fighting gear, helmet, gloves, mask, and air tank in the 98 degree day. I was spinning before I even entered the smoke house to complete the exercise. The fire fighters at the training center cooled and calmed me down and I completed the exercise and passed the test. The weight of the gear, the sun, and dehydration made me nauseous, dizzy, and light headed. It gave me an incredible respect for the men and women who work or volunteer to keep us safe. The gear and inferno lasted mere minuets for me, and I could barley coup. It’s a training and experience I won’t forget. The first aid section made me realize how much blood makes me squirm. I feel like I need to enroll in a more advanced first aid class as insurance for myself as I go off shore and spend more times on boats. The class was a product of bureaucracy that allows mediocrity. It was meant to receive this crucial piece of paper, but I didn’t learn much beyond common sense. I’m not surprised.
Now I’m back to work for a few more weeks. Trying to make the best of my last weeks in Charleston. This evening I took a long stroll around the historical areas of down town. I tried to get off the main track away from the gobs of tourists. I found some pretty amazing ally ways. The buildings are immaculately maintained and the attention to details and gardens make the streets feel unreal. At times it feels like you are walking through a movie set. Most of the buildings are uninhabited. They are the prize trophy homes of wealthy North Easterners who flock down for the weekend once a year to enjoy fine dining and an art scene. The city thrives on tourism. Walking down the streets there is a mix of classes, regions with in America, and international tourists. I pop in and out of these areas people watching, and slowly discovering more secret corners and alleyways. Like all cities I get to know intimately I imagine them during different points in time. I try to recreate the street and people - how did they look, feel, and what was the day to day like? t. In its own way Charleston catches you. It turns couples into romantics as the smell of lavender and the hum of crickets float in the air. Well-dressed and perfumed friends travel in a pack over the cobblestones on their way to low country meals. Young couples in sear sucker look at a lighted menu on the brick wall of an empty restaurant. Sweating black and brown faces are on the line. From the window you see the fry cooks sling their frialated arts onto white rounds in the window. White faces sip tall glasses of tea waiting to be served. I am an outsider in this place as I slowly discover the people, and lines of beauty, race, class, and history.
I’ll be flying back to Louisville for a week on August 2nd. Still working out plans for after that. I’m free, mobile, and ready to plunge. We’ll see where the wind takes me. I love you all. Thank you for your messages, calls, and notes.
Smiles,
Amanda Ma r
Charleston, SC
Now I’m back to work for a few more weeks. Trying to make the best of my last weeks in Charleston. This evening I took a long stroll around the historical areas of down town. I tried to get off the main track away from the gobs of tourists. I found some pretty amazing ally ways. The buildings are immaculately maintained and the attention to details and gardens make the streets feel unreal. At times it feels like you are walking through a movie set. Most of the buildings are uninhabited. They are the prize trophy homes of wealthy North Easterners who flock down for the weekend once a year to enjoy fine dining and an art scene. The city thrives on tourism. Walking down the streets there is a mix of classes, regions with in America, and international tourists. I pop in and out of these areas people watching, and slowly discovering more secret corners and alleyways. Like all cities I get to know intimately I imagine them during different points in time. I try to recreate the street and people - how did they look, feel, and what was the day to day like? t. In its own way Charleston catches you. It turns couples into romantics as the smell of lavender and the hum of crickets float in the air. Well-dressed and perfumed friends travel in a pack over the cobblestones on their way to low country meals. Young couples in sear sucker look at a lighted menu on the brick wall of an empty restaurant. Sweating black and brown faces are on the line. From the window you see the fry cooks sling their frialated arts onto white rounds in the window. White faces sip tall glasses of tea waiting to be served. I am an outsider in this place as I slowly discover the people, and lines of beauty, race, class, and history.
I’ll be flying back to Louisville for a week on August 2nd. Still working out plans for after that. I’m free, mobile, and ready to plunge. We’ll see where the wind takes me. I love you all. Thank you for your messages, calls, and notes.
Smiles,
Amanda Ma r
Charleston, SC
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Tallship
Thirteen tall ships came to Charleston Harbor last weekend for the South Carolina Maritime Foundations annual festival. I volunteered on Friday morning, but regretfully was given the task of ticket taker at one of the inflatable bouncy castles with a pirate theme. I plotted down in the shade and became listlessly apathetic to my take. My attention quickly turned towards people watching. A group of pirate and revolutionary war era reinactors made camp on the out skirts of the festival. Pirates, winches, and admirals in full costume casually passed me by. Parents chased dehydrated children with painted faces as they dared to enter the inferno of a bouncy castle. Military recruiters mingled with wooden boat artisans. Vendors and educators yelled messages and taunted the crowed with their wares, food, and information.
I was finally released for the children’s village at 1. I decided to take one ship tour before I escaped the crowds and hundred degree June heat. I boarded and met the captain of the Schooner Virginia. The replica schooner is only two years old. The hull and rigging are replicas of the ships name sake, but down bellow the equipment and accommodations are modern and comfortable. The ship acts as a sail-training program for children and adults. It is operated by the state of Virginia. A season aboard schooner Virginia would bring a tremendous amount of experience. I gave the captain a resume and hope to apply for the next season… that is if I haven’t fallen in love with some other adventure by then.
On the second day of the festival I toured the Romanian and U.S. Coast guard ships. These ships are much larger and their crews are more military oriented rather then sail training ships. These vessels teach seamanship to navy and coast guard cadets. The shot of the Romanian control room in the attached video show the soviet era technology accompanying the 7 year old replica ship. The cadet who gave us the tour was friendly and excited to be completing his training at the Romanian navy academy. Through slightly broken English eh brought us through the ship. Life aboard the ship kept moving around us as half naked cadets slipped in and out of metal doors headed towards showers, quarters, heads, and the galley.
On Monday afternoon Ben came into town and we sat on a bench in water front park to watch all the ships parade out of the Charleston Harbor under sail. Down the same tack the boats spread across the horizon and out the channel. All bound North to continue training and teaching the next set of curious tourists. The tall ship tours provided a window into history. These ships are replicas of past masters of the open sea. But the tour also gave a window into the alternative world aboard these sailing histories in a very modern world.
Amanda Ring-Rissler
Charleston, SC
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