How I loathe thee

Alright, I don't get sea sick on wet pavement, but I am pretty sensitive to rocking motions (i.e. can't read in a car, can only take so much of swinging). Therefore one would imagine I would steer clear of boats. Buahahaha. I wish.

The thing is, I have a love-hate relationship with the sea and both are on my side. I've spent plenty of my summers on a yacht on some or other lake, then the Pogoria and Chopin thing (a month and three weeks respectively on tall ships), plus the occasional tourist trip to Greece.

Then this. We sailed from Gdansk to Swinoujscie on a catamaran, which is one of the fastest yachts (far as I know the speed record is 38.4 knots). We made it in about 24 hours (it was 235 nautical miles, accounting for the fact we were going against the wind). I was there semi-officially, coordinating catering and supplying a veneer of civility a female presence provides (the female presence being me and sister). My stomach is still trying to find stable ground, because the trip was bloody insane in terms of stomach-curling.

I think the worst part is that I can't even throw up. Throwing up helps, right? It's out, you get dry bread to chew on and move on to do whatever. Not me. I lie flat for twelve hours straight on hard deck (long story - the only toilet on board exploded, and sadly it was the hull in which my bed was, so I chose to waive my right to a mattress). The only reason I presume my back is still good for something is because I was wearing a waterproof jacket. Thankfully, it was relatively warm, so I didn't freeze my nose off, and I did get to see an awesome shooting star.

But yeah. Given the option of a return trip or nine hours on a train, we opted for the train.