Conversations
"Do you mind when Alisha and I talk in our language?”
No, not really.
“Most people do.”
That’s probably because they think you’re talking about them.
Daniel shrugs, lowers his head, and grins. There is a mountain of hell-raising hidden behind that grin.
We are kayaking. There are six visitors to this country, all from either Moldova or Romania. They are working in the mountains of New Hampshire for the summer. Some are related, and others are couples. It doesn’t take long to sort out who is who. It is also easy to see that some are more daring than others. Two of the braver, or more foolhardy get wet—one swamps his kayak and learns how to haul it back to shore and dump the water out as best he can; the other simply falls out and learns how the tide carriers his paddle in one direction and the kayak in another, and then, how to mount the kayak in the water without capsizing it. I think its comical how these young men, Sasha and Victor, try to swallow their pride and still save face.
Larry and Debbie are their hosts in this country and on this trip to an ocean they have only seen from an airplane. Douglas, their enigmatic friend who looks like a version of either early Kris Kristofferson or else late Stephen Stills, keeps his distance, but he misses nothing. He is the experienced one, the one we all eventually look to for at least one answer or more during the trip. I end up following him at one point, watching how he measures the tide and slips his kayak between the waves to the next island’s shore, winds along it for awhile, then chooses his spot to slip between two islands to a less protected part of the bay. It is there that we see the seals diving for fish. They come clear out of the water, spin, and then disappear. All too soon they realize our presence. The largest shiny black one inspects Douglas. Male to male, I think to myself. The smaller brown one must be the female and she keeps herself between me and the smallest one, which I surmise is her pup. They are curious and spend some time checking us both out. Soon the rest of our armada appears, and the seals check them out too. We are twelve, counting Craig and his new wife Linda. It is not surprising that the seals are cautious.
This day is perfect—the sun, the sky, the tide, the company. I wonder about the rest of the world, if given such a unique opportunity to communicate, to spend a day together, would find that we are not so very different after all. The differences that do exist give texture to this day, make the possibility to learn something new about ourselves and others impossible to avoid. I wonder if we put all the so-called leaders of this world into the ocean, each in their own kayak, and insist that they spend the entire day together, would they find a day as perfect as this one?
No, not really.
“Most people do.”
That’s probably because they think you’re talking about them.
Daniel shrugs, lowers his head, and grins. There is a mountain of hell-raising hidden behind that grin.
We are kayaking. There are six visitors to this country, all from either Moldova or Romania. They are working in the mountains of New Hampshire for the summer. Some are related, and others are couples. It doesn’t take long to sort out who is who. It is also easy to see that some are more daring than others. Two of the braver, or more foolhardy get wet—one swamps his kayak and learns how to haul it back to shore and dump the water out as best he can; the other simply falls out and learns how the tide carriers his paddle in one direction and the kayak in another, and then, how to mount the kayak in the water without capsizing it. I think its comical how these young men, Sasha and Victor, try to swallow their pride and still save face.
Larry and Debbie are their hosts in this country and on this trip to an ocean they have only seen from an airplane. Douglas, their enigmatic friend who looks like a version of either early Kris Kristofferson or else late Stephen Stills, keeps his distance, but he misses nothing. He is the experienced one, the one we all eventually look to for at least one answer or more during the trip. I end up following him at one point, watching how he measures the tide and slips his kayak between the waves to the next island’s shore, winds along it for awhile, then chooses his spot to slip between two islands to a less protected part of the bay. It is there that we see the seals diving for fish. They come clear out of the water, spin, and then disappear. All too soon they realize our presence. The largest shiny black one inspects Douglas. Male to male, I think to myself. The smaller brown one must be the female and she keeps herself between me and the smallest one, which I surmise is her pup. They are curious and spend some time checking us both out. Soon the rest of our armada appears, and the seals check them out too. We are twelve, counting Craig and his new wife Linda. It is not surprising that the seals are cautious.
This day is perfect—the sun, the sky, the tide, the company. I wonder about the rest of the world, if given such a unique opportunity to communicate, to spend a day together, would find that we are not so very different after all. The differences that do exist give texture to this day, make the possibility to learn something new about ourselves and others impossible to avoid. I wonder if we put all the so-called leaders of this world into the ocean, each in their own kayak, and insist that they spend the entire day together, would they find a day as perfect as this one?
posted by AYankee @ 9:25 AM
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