Round and flat-bottomed, like a translucent gel version of a portobello mushroom, with soft pink “u” shaped …things, perhaps tentacles, perhaps mouths–they gather at the shoreline. All five of us kneel to inspect their texture, their potential threat and their non-face face. We’ve walked through the woods to get here, to the beach, examining the lichen, the heather, the blueberries and the similarities to forests in our respective countries.
I have jokingly, warmly, called these people family and it is just the second day. Conversation moves easily between academia and personal anecdotes.
I tried to help the jellyfish that seemed stuck in the sand back into the water. Am I my brother’s keeper? Perhaps I should name the jellyfish Bobby, or Boris. I wonder if the jellyfish have the capacity to know that they are stuck in the sand, would they like to forget about this once they are free?
It seems that the beach is this neutral ground, building memories of Roosta, but also where we forget our conference professionalism and run into cold water, screaming with giggles.
Sessions continue, the days are at once fast and slow, packed with information, time is elusive. Down-time is used to reflect and debrief – the academic version of relaxing. Even walks through the woods and to the beach are spent examining, exploring, analyzing and conversing.
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