“Time flies when you’re having rum” they repeat in the Caribbean, on the false line of the famous English saying. Despite wine being our favorite beverage here in the South of France, we have to admit that time is slipping by at a pace we’re not used to. We have no idea whether this magic is operated by the end-of-summer deadline (we’ll all eventually have to go back to some sort of work, at least for a little while) or by the desire of bringing this first phase of the refit to an end…but what’s happening to our perception of time is rather unusual: two weeks ago I would have told anyone who would have asked me, that we were only days from having the boat’s interior completely dismantled. Well, it’s still the case! There’s so much to it, and so many things that are only supposed to take a few hours end up taking days!
After the big decision of treating the whole inside of the hull rather than just the bilges, we have gone through massive dismantling. Every single piece of furniture, ceiling, insulation, and even the tiniest bit of wood structure on the boat had to go on a trip to Barcelona where we can store the whole load. Believe me, nobody can imagine how much wood a little sailboat can fit in her belly. We’re now fighting seized bolts (to remove deck gear), scraping rust, preparing tanks and engine to be taken off…again days, which inevitably become weeks, go by with the same feeling of being close yet too far from the end of this chapter. It’s definitely true that time, beyond the succession of events (chronos), is characterized by the subjective experience (kairos) that the ancient Greeks felt so strong to actually have to name it. Shame no modern culture has kept this dichotomy.
For the records, the moral on board is still high and everyone can see the big potential beyond the necessary work. Some friends have already shown up to share some sweat and tears, and more are to come during the next days/weeks. Soon will be welding time, then the sandblast of the whole interior will start. The gypsy camp is growing with the Sylphide (Mete and Flavia’s little boat) on the hard next to L’Alliance. Gourmet meals accompany the fore mentioned daily selection of french wines, and the vision of a fully reliable, freshly treated hull keeps playing little tricks with our perception of time.