Lava-leer. Volcano voyerism.

My current contract is a long one; seven months. The standard length for musicians is 3 to 4 months, but because we’re spending 6 months in the Mediterranean, the powers that be wanted to avoid flying people back and forth from North America. This suits me just fine. I have the best band on the seven seas and everybody gets along. (I’m not kidding. This is one shit hot group of musicians.) I’ve met some wonderful people (J-club – you know who you all are!), and, did I mention? – I’M IN THE FREAKIN’ MED! Today, I went to the Trevi fountain and the Parthenon. I’ve already seen the Coliseum, and I wasn’t worried about not seeing the Sistine Chapel because I’ll be here about 8 more times. Come November, Rome will bore me. In the past 2 months, I’ve seen (and touched!) the Acropolis in Athens, ridden up the side of a cliff on a donkey in Santorini, been to St. Peter’s on Sunday, strolled along the deserted streets of Venice at 2 in the morning, bought a $350 leather jacket in Kusadasi, bought a $60 dollar suit at the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, (I also did something I swore I would never do again. I smoked. Granted, it was a delightful cherry flavoured tobacco in a hookah. I felt sick afterwards, went back to the ship early and felt guilty for 3 days – I don’t consider this a slip in my smoking cessation. At least that’s what I tell myself so I can sleep at night), eaten the best. gelato. ever. in Nafplion, eaten the best. cannoli. ever. in Palermo, eaten the best. couscous. ever. in Casablanca, seen Stromboli erupt 5 times at night, and spent 3 days and 2 nights in my beloved Barcelona wandering around alone, drinking cheap beer on the beach, and taking in some Gaudi. I’m not trying to rub it in anyone’s face. But damn I’ve had fun. And I’ve still got 5 months left.


A word about the volcano Stromboli. (Stromboli is much like Old Faithful. It’s almost always erupting.) My mom wanted me to describe it, but I don’t know if I can. It was one of the most spectacular things I have ever seen, but I don’t think I have sufficient words. But I’ll try, dear readers, I’ll try. That evening, I had given a mini-recital with 2 guitarists (playing 20 minutes of classical music every 12 days at least makes me feel that all the years and years of piano lessons aren’t going to waste. Again – whatever lets me sleep at night…). Near the end of the recital, people started leaving in droves. (It was like speed dating where a bell rings and every one gets up and switches places, except that I didn’t get one single phone number.) I didn’t think I had played THAT badly, and was feeling slightly miffed when an audience member told me not to take it personally, but how did I suppose I could compete with a volcano? Hell, if I’d known, I’d’ve walked out too! So I rushed up to the top deck. It wasn’t what I’d expected. It was quite dark, and there was a big black mountain in the middle of the sea. Not so amazing. I was talking with Jesse, thinking this better get good soon, when we saw a little red glow emanate from the top of the mountain. Cool. Not COOOOOOOOOOL!, but cool nonetheless. (It was more cool went my uncle Mike, who is a forester, brought us back rocks from Mt. St. Helen’s a thousand or so years ago). More conversation, more glowing, more apathy. I was about to go away and get a drink when BOOM! Lava shot straight up in the air. 400 people on deck went instantly silent for about 10 seconds, and then we applauded. (Why did we do that? Was the volcano’s self-esteem really that low that it needed bucking up?). Erin (Jerin) had a group of kids up on deck. Now, we all know there’s nothing quite as jaded and world-weary as a group of twelve-year olds, but they were chattering away excitedly and incredulously. After about 5 minutes, it erupted again. And again. And again. And then a double eruption. Now, it wasn’t really like the dinosaur section in Fantasia with those crazy syncopated explosions. (But I admit, I did hum the opening bars of The Rite Of Spring). For crying out loud, there’s a fishing village on the island (the lava runs down only on one side of the mountain). But there’s something primal and mysterious about seeing molten lava.It really does shoot straight up in the air! It really does spit and spurt! The weird thing was, it made no noise. Or at least we couldn’t hear it (but we weren’t really that far away.) No boom, no bam no kapow! In some ways, the silence made it even more violent. I stood there for an hour enraptured, not saying much at all. What is there to say? The ship finally pulled away from the volcano, and we could see the glowing red crater in the distance. An unsettling reminder of the power Nature holds over us.

My mother was thrilled when I went to Iceland 2 years ago. “It’s the land of fire and ice”, she kept saying. I managed to see neither, as it was summer and fairly mild in Reykjavík, and there are no volcanoes in the middle of the city. Besides, the ice part didn’t interest her so much (We’re from Montreal. We know from ice), but I think seeing a volcano erupt is probably on my Mom’s bucket list. I, on the other hand, had never really thought about it. But despite all the amazing things I've done so far, Stromboli has been the highlight. I'll never forget it.

In Ship News: It’s Canada Day, and there’s a party in the OB, with Poutine and music from the 49th parallel and Red balloons (which cost me 15 Euro (!)yesterday in Sicily.) Happy Canada Day!