I crossed the Atlantic. An old dream, a
recent craving, now a lived reality which I already remember with profound
nostalgia, the nostalgia of that deep blue that took me pitching and rolling
from a Lisboa’s sunny autumn day to the torrid and humid heat of the tropical
lands of Ecuador. Many were the emotions, the moments, the surprises that my
old friend the sea had me live from the first to the last of the 21 days passed
on board the 'BBC Ganges', the cargo ship with a presageful name with which I
made the crossing to a new world of emotions and discoveries. Having stepped
firm land once more, it is now time to share some of the emotions lived on
board, the most vivid, the most striking,
those which give me the biggest pleasure in sharing. The strongest of
them all, however, I will not be able to share, as it is impossible to describe
the tone of blue of the ocean I sailed, that deep blue which I will always
remember as the most vivid memory of the days I spent crossing the Atlantic.
Departure:
until the other end of the sea
At 6pm of the 13th October 2011
departed from Lisboa, more specifically from the Beato docks, the cargo ship 'BBC Ganges'. Within the varied cargo carried, as is its purpose and duty, the 'BBC Ganges' carried one of the least usual items in its many trips across the
globe: me. If any doubt subsisted that a passenger was a rare thing around
here, the facial expression of the cadet that was guarding the ship when I
arrived cleared them all, lost between the awe of seeing two backpacks with a
man attached wanting to board the ship and the need to advise his superiors of
the arrival of the passenger who was going to cross the Atlantic. In a short
while, however, the Chief Mate arrived to welcome me on board and guide me to
what was about to become my cabin. My impression when first walking the ship’s
corridors was that of having receded in time, arriving suddenly to the 70s or
80s, or maybe of having entered an old Chinese restaurant with walls covered
with pine boards and paintings of rice field landscapes. When entering my
cabin, however, that first impression was lost, as I felt strangely at home,
maybe welcomed by the presence of a comfortable bed and sofa and by the
existence of two windows to look at the sea during my days on board. Soon after
the Captain came down from the bridge to get to know who I was, giving me
permission to dive back in the Portuguese capital for a few more hours, time
used to say goodbye to a hefty duck rice plate, to the nice Portuguese bica espresso coffee, to the pastel de nata (Portuguese custard pie), and finally
to my family, nostalgias I left behind until de day of my return. Still slightly dazed by the novelty of it all and the
few hours slept in the short week I had to prepare my trip, I boarded the ship
once more, now for good, now until the other end of the sea. At 5pm, and with
the duck still floating around my stomach, I ran through dinner, engulfing in
one go whatever I was given so I could climb up to the bridge on time for
departure, the last contact with firm land before reaching the other shore of
the Ocean. The clock marked the 6pm of the 13th October 2011 when departed
from Lisboa, more specifically from the Beato docks, the cargo ship 'BBC Ganges',
leaving behind the wharf to slide languidly along the hills of Lisboa,
absorbing from its houses the ochre tainted light the sun emanated from afar,
from the west to which I’m indefinitely bound. Balancing us on favor of its
current, the Tejo River showed me Lisboa’s Castle, its Alfama neighborhood
suspended above the river, its Sé cathedral peaking over the Terreiro do
Paço square so it could watch the orange cacilheiro boats stroll to the
other bank of the river, the Bairro Alto neighborhood toasting from above to
my swift return, Lisboa’s waterfront accompanying me until the bridge, until
the Crist Redeemer gave me a last hug to wish me a good trip. Little by little
I felt Lisboa letting me go, while the Intanfe D. Henrique took the honor of
waiving me a last goodbye from the forecastle of his caravel, wishful of his
own departure and nostalgic of the days when the seas were his to discover. I
saw also myself, near the tower of Belem, looking at the ships that sailed away
and thinking of when it would be my turn to go. While the Bugio and Cascais' Guia lighthouses were throwing me a last farewell with the first swing
of the waves, I saw Sintra from afar and the intense light that blinks from the
Roca cape, where the sea begins according to the poet Luis de Camões, sights which
accompanied my first hours at sea. Nostalgic of my presence, Portugal stared at
me for long hours, like a parent who looks at his son departing while wishing
for a swift return. I stared at him as well, petrified, watching my country
become smaller until a huge red moon broke the horizon to crown Lisboa’s sky
with the nostalgia I will carry along my path, a moment made eternal in that
picture I could take only with my own eyes. Finally I left Lisboa, invaded by the
contradictory sensation that while setting sail to foreign lands I found in the
place where I come from the beauty I expect to discover along my way, but
embraced by the certainty I belong here even if I depart once and again. At 6pm
of the 13th October 2011 departed from Lisboa, more specifically
from the Beato docks, the cargo ship 'BBC Ganges', headed to the other end of the
sea, and I departed with him.