A really long nap...

Non omne quod nitet aurum est.
~Chaucer, 1380

I rally myself from bed before dawn and pull on my chefs jacket, my hair piled in a knot atop my head, I look in the mirror as my fingers work each mother-of-pearl button through its hole, past the blue embroidery spelling out my name in script on the left plaque, up to the blue piped edging of the Mao collar. I fold up the oversized cuffs, smooth the front of the jacket and as I look in the mirror I think about how hard I’ve worked to earn this jacket, to learn my trade, to become a chef. 10 years, I think to myself, 10, long years. A thought scratches at my brain; today, this jacket feels like a nun’s habit. I laugh. Who knew that when I’d signed on to this job I’d inadvertently be committing myself to what often times feels like a life of silence, servitude and celibacy? Who knew? I watch the dawn break over the rugged Mexican terrain and swallow back the lump in my throat as I warm up the ovens and turn on the light above the stove, for what I know will be the last meal that I will cook aboard the yacht.

Perhaps it was the fibrous, bitter, out of season asparagus; the rock hard, orange and green Roma tomatoes; spotty iceberg lettuce; mealy apples and limp, yellowing celery stacked against the walls at the grocery store that pushed me over the edge. Perhaps it was withdrawals from my addiction to artisan cheese, chewy baguettes and spicy baby arugula. Perhaps it was the monastic lifestyle, and living amongst a bunch of married couples and without even any boys to flirt with – and without the direct phone line to God or that guaranteed entry into Heaven that a true nun would’ve had. But whatever, the telltale signs of burnout have been lapping at my ankles for months now. My body’s been screaming that it’s too much. Too much stress, too little sleep. Just too much. And after losing my appetite for a solid month and spending half a day in Mexican hospital feeling as though a forest fire was raging in my belly – I’ve had to make probably one of the most agonizing decision I’ve ever had to make in my entire life – and that is, to leave the yacht. I know. I know. I feel like my heart has been carved out of my chest and served on a platter. I had meditated on a different outcome, prayed for a different outcome in fact, but, my stomach hath spoken and I dutifully must follow its orders. It is not an easy decision by any means.

I am tremendously grateful for all that Mrs. and Mr. X have done for me. I absolutely adore and admire them both. I want to be like them when I grow up. Not because of the big yacht, or the fab lifestyle. But rather, because they embrace life, because they jump in with childlike abandon and, as the people who know them know, they are genuine and they are rebels at heart – and to me, those are always admirable qualities. I also have the utmost respect for the crew and anyone willing to navigate the treacherous seas of crew management. I’m hard pressed to think of 10 people that I truly love and would want to eat, sleep, live, work and spend every waking moment with for months and months on end. No wonder pirates are always made out to be such unsavory characters – you’d be pretty cranky too if you lived aboard a damp, rickety boat with 20 or 30 others with poor bodily hygiene and a penchant for rum. It’s a wonder there hasn’t been more blood shed in the mega yacht industry!

My tenor in the yachting industry has been quite the adventure and has given me a lifetime of stories to tell. But alas, I need my own bed for which to spread the Sunday NY Times across, a home to walk around in my pajamas until noon, some earth to stick my hands in and a long morning run or I get pretty damn cranky. I’ve decided to take a sabbatical from the world of the gainfully employed, and what better timing! I’ll be trading in my chef’s knife for a pen, channeling my inner Hemingway and soothing my aching, overworked bones out in Key West for a while. But not first without a visit home and a chance to sit around and do absolutely nothing…

The blog will continue. This is not the end, but the beginning of a new adventure… And now, hey, I’ll actually have time to write!