This morning I woke up in a house surrounded by the feel of grandparents. Not my grandparents, but somebody's, and the house felt like it.
Today some sneaky little punk stole the sun some time before dawn. God, in an effort to buy time while he was looking for it, threw a sheet of clouds over the sky hoping that nobody would notice the absence. Having recently spent a good deal more time under the heavens than most people, sensitive to the slightest abnormality, I have not fallen for this simplistic ploy.
It was a cold dark day, if day you could call it.
I trailed my new lure, hoping that god would be too busy looking for the sun to notice I was fishing. Maybe today I would catch something. But it would seem that the force against me is greater then divine, no fish for dinner tonight.
I paddled to Sestri Levante. My host from the night before told me that while I was at sea he would contact the paddle club here and ask them to meet me at 3:00.
The distance was not far, though it would have been to the next port, so I was there at two. And nobody met me at three at the spot I had been told to wait. But at 3:15 as I was ready to move on, I saw another paddler out on the water moving at a good clip. That was odd, I thought. You'd have to be crazy to be out paddling on a day like today.
I called to him, but he did not hear me. I followed him and eventually got his attention. Yes, he was looking for the crazy kayaker from Portugal.
“Barcelona.” I said. It was wonderful to meet him and he seemed happy to meet me. Tonight I'll sleep in the clubhouse of the Leaga Naval Sestri Levante. I met a bunch of them and they're super cool folks.
I was slightly surprised when I stepped out of the shower into my bedroom, and found a class on navigation beginning there.