The official journey is over — but we’re still moving, still documenting, still listening as we bring the ship back home. The crew has changed: Gigi and Stephan have left; Markus and Christine remain on board, heading upstream with a changing cast of artist-friends. The logbook continues.
This log is mostly about what happened last night — an unexpected storm, and an even more unexpected night.
Yesterday evening the wind suddenly shifted. A storm rolled in out of nowhere, and within minutes we were in full action mode: sunshades down, ropes adjusted, everything on deck secured.
After the storm passed and the air cooled, we decided to stop waiting. Our friend probably wasn’t coming. We had dinner.
Just as we cleared the table, a pickup truck appeared — he had arrived after all. We jumped into the car and headed off into the unknown.
I guess that’s when the absurdity began — with getting into the car. I slid across the back seat to make space — and realized I was about to sit on a pistol. Not something you can just ignore. I wasn’t sure what etiquette applied in that moment: is it more polite to let the barrel point toward me or toward our host? In the end, I slid both hands underneath and offered it to him like a polite gift. He took it and tucked it away without blinking — as if nothing had happened. I was left surprised, confused, and slightly amused all at once.
We were taken to a hunting lodge still within the grounds of the nuclear plant. Inside: the director’s wife and a table already set with a feast of meat and alcohol. Conversation leapt over language barriers — a few Russian words, hand gestures, laughter. Somehow we talked about massive sturgeons, pulled from the Danube. About ships. About weapons. Tried not to talk about Putin, though we were surrounded by Putin memorabilia, and our host occasionally wore a Russian military cap.
Everything felt slightly off-kilter and yet completely real. We didn’t share a language, but we shared the night: a strange, cheerful drift between hospitality and absurdity.
Again we left with a bag full of gifts: lots of pork fat, honey, and a bottle of the unknown.
The rest of the day — today — passed quietly. Everyone was lost in thought about the night before. Not much was said — a lot was being processed.
