Tattoo

The tradition of [European] sailors tattooing each other dates back to the 1700s when Captain Cook’s crew picked up the practice from the Polynesians. Since then, countless sailors have followed in their intrepid wake. I have chronicled some of my own experiences here, and here, but haven’t spoken much about how we adopted this tradition or how it has evolved in our cruising community. It started simply enough, with a proper anchor tattoo (Rocna), exchanged with a good friend on a buddy boat. In Johor Bahru, another sailor opted in, and since then, many more of our sailing buddies have asked (in spite of my strong disclaimer that I am not a professional) to exchange or receive tattoos. It’s become a bit of a thing. ...

When I met Robbie last year, all I knew about him was that he was inking all of my friends and that Gael thought that he could definitely help with this crazy octopus idea that I had. By the time that tattoo was done, I had made one of those rare friends that defy the rules that erode normal friendships under the pressures of time, distance, and language. Roberto is a kindred spirit. ...

Today is Christmas Eve day so we did what any normal family would do and got some tattoos. Technically mine was started last night, but we did all of the shading today. Our artist, Roberto Galbiani, an Italian architect-turned-tattoo-genius, was introduced to us by friends that run our favorite cafe (Pablo). If you remember back to the post about my Marquesan Tattoo, you might recall that I wasn’t sure that I would ever get another one. This opportunity made for too good of a story to pass up, and I was at a moment where I had something that I wanted to record in skin, so I enthusiastically pursued it. ...

I’ve been lucky to have a number of encouraging and reassuring people cross my path, people who have confirmed that what I was after was the right thing for me, and a couple of years ago I met someone who had such confidence and assuredness about his sailboat and his cruising plans that I couldn’t help but admire him . As we became friends he repeated his mantra, “it’s okay” about any worries I had about living aboard, fixing up Convivia, and sailing away. He even called us just before we untied the dock lines to remind us that everything would be just fine. I’ve tried to remember /just/ the tone of his believable voice and though I’ve repeated his words a million times, I’ve been searching for my own authentic, “it’s okay.” ...