Sailboat Couchsurfing

When Elizabeth from couchsurfing said she could fit us into her 34’, I assumed she meant a trailer. It turns out she meant a sailboat. Docked in one of San Diego’s many marinas, she sets up camp in tight living quarters, and isn’t afraid to stuff that space with friends. When she first handed us a key to the docks so we could come and go as we pleased, I had no idea how intense the next few days would be.

Mary and I have a double bed on the boat with a narrow aisle beside us, and another couchsurfer (Joe, who just biked across America on a whim), crams into the corner berth. Our days have been spent rambling around various neighborhoods of San Diego. Pacific Beach has a McDonald’s with reliable wi-fi. Coronado Island has sparkly sand. A marine on the bus struck up a conversation. Elizabeth took us out sailing (that deserves its own blog, with pictures). Our evenings have been spent with Elizabeth’s friends.

These friends are intense and jovial. Long-haired Murph is a vegan chef who never wears shoes and searches people’s faces with piercing eyes. Tall Neeno, with the swagger and smarts of a con man, has jerry-rigged his smartphone to change the music on the juke box of a bar halfway across town. Spencer and Bill are weathermen for the navy who have traveled the world. Britney’s voice sounds like a cartoon character and she is trying to lay off the booze. Altu is a sweet-smiling Turkish immigrant who is trying to meet more couchsurfing people. And Carrie, not a friend, is a constantly-drunk-and-stoned foundling who wanders over to Elizabeth’s boat uninvited, just to make things more interesting. These people have been in and out through the evenings, bearing alcohol, guitars, joints, LED-light-up hoodies, vegan burritos, and countless stories of their strange sea-faring lives. It’s been a whirlwind. Elizabeth makes soup and spaghetti. I drink Coke and tea so I don’t have to refuse every drink she offers me. The weekends are for partying. I realize I’m not much of a partier. We cram into small spaces and talk about human connection in a world of technology. We talk about boats. We talk about how nobody can poop on a boat. We talk about beer and Europe and why there's not racism in Istanbul and the different kinds of seasickness. Every night I curl up exhausted.

At night the boat sighs and creaks and in the distance sea lions bark. When I’m on solid ground, I feel like I’m still moving, still snuggled under covers in the blackness of night, hiding from a terror I can’t put into words. The sea is close here. The people are restless. The nights are dark. I will remember this time forever.

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