Sailing into Espana, and Barcelona beauties.

rst day of sailing is just turning out to be not so great a thing thus far aboard the SS Sorlandet. Though we extended our stay in Portugal by a day to avoid being caught in a storm that was just two notches shy of being a hurricane, the remnants of it were most definitely still felt 24 hours later. Not long after our departure, the several meter high waves that are tossing us about make “I hate the sea!”, “Why do we have to sail so much?”, and “Can we turn back to Portugal?” the most heard sentences of the day. The half-day of scheduled classes is cancelled, and most students retreat to their bunks, or to the funnels of shame. I am happy to report that I…and motion sickness meds… conquered seasickness this time. Victory! Chantalle (sponsored by Gravol): 1 Seasickness: A trillion billion.

Although most on board want to give the ocean a good punch in the face on this first day of sailing from Western Europe, she soon redeems herself. The über calmness of the Atlantic Ocean the following day make the not-so-goodness we’ve just experienced seem like a distant memory. As much as you may despise it one day, the ocean is also capable of bring you a feeling of peace and contentment that you have rarely felt on dry land. A few days into our sail to Spain, we go through the Straight of Gibraltar: a very narrow passage between Europe and Africa. In fact, it is so narrow that on one side of the ship, we see Spain, and on the other, Morocco. Knowing that seeing land is now possible on deck, one of my students politely raises her hand, and asks: “Ms. Bourque, may we please go outside and look at Africa?” Moments such as this one are yet another reminder of how unbelievably fortunate these kids (and their teachers) are to be here…how many kids can use the line “Lets go outside, because we can see Africa!” in their classrooms? Ok.. maybe students in Africa can… but you know what I’m getting at.

Not only is the view astonishing, but the Straight of Gibraltar is also home to thousands of remarkable sea creatures. We see dolphins by the hundreds…Mama dolphins with their babies awkwardly learning how to jump gracefully out of the water…We see dozens and dozens of pilot whales, surfacing just a few meters from our ship. We also catch glimpses of sun fish, tuna, and dolphin fish. In fact, our Captain manages to catch the latter with his self-made fishing line, and prepares a bit of it for us to enjoy. It is quite possibly the freshest fish I’ve ever tried, and it is delicious. (ATTENTION ANIMAL ACTIVISTS: Don’t be fooled by the name – I didn’t eat a dolphin. It’s more like a tuna than anything else).

The Straight leads us right into the Mediterranean Sea, where it is unusually calm for this time in the season. The stillness of the water means there is hardly any wind, and so very few sails are up. In fact, in the short period of time that we actually DO have the sails up, the wind is pushing the ship BACKWARDS. Woops. The light-wind trend continues long enough for us to take advantage of the situation by going for a swim call. Nearly all of us jump into the turquoise blue Med from the deck of the ship in one of those instances where the rush of feeling ‘alive’ washes over you; when knowing that you are living a moment that will forever be marked in your memory as a time when every ounce of your being felt happy.
Our honeymoon introduction to the Mediterranean lasts for the better part of the sail. Word that a nasty storm is brewing makes the Captain signal the engineer to keep the motors running at a pace which will bring us into Barcelona 24 hours before our scheduled arrival. We arrive to the Catalan city on Canadian Thanksgiving, just in time to have a delicious turkey feast for all on board. We introduce the holiday to some of our international students, and our Norwegian crew, who are enjoying their first of the sort. Some of them are a little unsure of what Thanksgiving is, and what we do to celebrate. One of our Norwegian mates, Kari, goes around the dining area, bowing her head and saying “Thank You” to everyone she makes eye contact with. She also brings with her a handful of large chocolate bars to share with all of us…her version of what Thanksgiving is gets our approval.

After a delectable dinner, we set out to explore the magnificent city we have just embarked upon. I quickly assess that everything I’ve heard about Barcelona is true; the buildings, the surroundings, and the culture are vibrant, and awe-inspiring. The architecture is what stands out the most. Famed architect Gaudi’s work is what best accentuates the striking structures around the city. Park Guëll, highlighting some of his work, is the first of our two port programs organized for the students. Thousands of tourists are milling about, and dozens of vendors are attempting to sell souvenirs, jewelry and scarves to the passerby, and talented musicians have their hats out while playing the Spanish guitar. Although the sights, and sounds are plentiful and pleasant, I am diligently clutching my purse, keenly aware that pickpockets here are among the craftiest in the world. While I do not become a victim of their expertise, many of our students and staff become a statistic in the city where the most Canadian passports get stolen every year.

The next few days are spent exploring as much of this gem of a city as possible: Placa de Catalunya, La Ramba, and Port Olimpic…I even manage to get a fill for my concert fix here. Although I am not a Train fan, students ask me to accompany them to their concert, which runs half an hour past their curfew. Christina and I join them, and the show ends up exceeding my expectations. The guys give a great show, and the kids are happy that they get to snap a pic with the lead singer of the band (guaranteed Facebook profile pic). Despite the fact that we spend one extra day here, I still cannot help but feel as though there is so much left unseen. Though I’ve marveled at every port we’ve spent time in, Barcelona is the first to leave me with a strong desire to see it again very soon.

As I post this, we are in Sardinia, Italy next, before our longest sail yet to Morocco… where we have another chance at getting mail! Please send me a letter, so that I am not the only person out of 60 pouting because I haven’t received snail mail love from friends and family back home. Haha/I’m serious.

Much love,
Chant.