So, come to find out, one thing that water likes to do is make waves (who knew we had so much in common???). During the fifth, maybe sixth, day I had my first true sea-sickness test. I must say I passed it with three pluses, thanks to my Dad, who, when I was a kid, used to fly my brother and I in the single engine Cessnas he used to pilot as a hobby. If you can keep your cookies in one of those making a sharp turn,
you can keep them anywhere.
A rocking ship is kinda fun if you go with it. Somewhat like a constant amusement park ride- it ups and downs, but when it's really rough, as it was that day, you find out there is the crash that accompanies the down. You literally hear a pow that is followed by a jarring shake. Quite enjoyable when you're in bed, which is where you end up quite a bit because the rocking innately brings about your baby instincts if it doesn't bring out your gag reflex. There were, indeed, a few times in which I went "whoooa", but in general I liked
the drama of it.
The most amusing surprise of rough seas is the choreographed dance that occurs when people are walking in the halls. We all try to walk in a straight line, but sea decides otherwise. I mean, you're ON it, after all, it's not like you have a choice. So, soon enough, everyone has moved from the left side of the hall to the right, then back to left- a few stay in the center after a bit of control. A harsh crash may cause you to stop, but if you flow with it a bit, you'll come out on top. Step, step, step and wobble, wobble, wobble, and stumble, stumble, stumble, then bobble, bobble, bobble, and if you make to the place you meant to go without a bruise, then HEY! You've done The Rough Sea Bop!
In case you're wondering, my ocean-staring obsession did not ebb while the ocean was in extreme flux. It was fascinating, as always. The water had given up its healthy blue and become a greyish-brown, showing just how much it, too, was affected by its own motion. Symmetry still reigns during crazy waters- the crests would literally happen in pretty succinct diagonals from each other, though some crests showed their individuality in the form of size. Smaller waves just flew off the side of the ship with relative ease. Their more mammoth brethren attempted to take part of the ship with them, extending their fingers up the side and onto the 3rd, sometimes 4th decks.
No wildlife to be seen obviously, just the tapestry of the seas, but I had to wonder what all that life down there was doing. Where did it hide exactly? I mean, waves go with current and current goes down pretty far, so I'm not sure the reefs can escape the wrath. Did the tuna all bunch up in a ball and wait it out somehow in homage to their less fortunate brethren? Did the octopi stick to the side of a whale that dove a few hundred feet deeper to a less bothersome depth? How did they make it?
And that was the thing- they made it. They made it however they knew how. Or maybe they didn't- I didn't check the latest fish census. But they did what they could, adapted, and made the best of a turbulent situation. And all done with instinct. Thank you, once again, nature, for showing in your own inimitable way that one only needs to do the same, and it will always equal doing one's best.
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