Bill from November 9, 2022

“Peking” is a pejorative term for ” anyone not wearing a military uniform “.
In short, the guys at the Royale call anything that isn’t military, and foreign to them, a “pekin”.
It’s a funny nickname that sticks to me, as I was a “pekin” for 17 years as a reporter for Cols Bleusthe journal of the French Navy since 1945.

Pen and notebook in hand, I embarked on “grey ships” (as they call them) of all sizes.
Aircraft carrier R91 “Charles-de-Gaulle”, helicopter carrier R97 “La Jeanne d’Arc” (on which H.S.H. Prince Albert II of Monaco embarked as midshipman in the early 1980s), anti-submarine frigates, anti-aircraft frigates, stealth frigates, patrol boats and even nuclear attack submarines or schooners… I put my reporter’s bag down on all these ships to experience more or less peaceful missions in situ.
This gave me a taste of life on board, in faraway ports and the most exotic ports of call.
Above all, I learned to tell the story of the people of the sea and their daily lives, using words and images.

I’ve loved life on board ever since, the life that consists of leaving land only to have to tame the rolling and pitching for the first few days.
I love the smell of diesel as much as the sea air.
I love this time that passes in a different way, punctuated here by diving, dredging, trawling and launching the rosette or ROV.

For the past week, I’ve been on board the S.A. Aghulas II with 80 scientists, 3 artists, 3 filmmakers and some 40 sailors, to experience first-hand the “Indian Ocean” oceanographic campaign orchestrated by Monaco Explorations.

It has to be said that with my travelling companion Mathys, I’ve really settled in.
I love going up and down the stairs (real sailors call them “escapes”) from morning to night.
I like to go to Deck 3 at the stern as soon as possible to watch the miraculous catch that researchers are hoping for.

I like to attend the evening briefing, a real play, sometimes comic, sometimes tragic.
I’m also a big fan of the South African-style meals at set times, the flag of this proud ship.

Above all, I like to go to deck number 9 above the navigation bridge when the sun is about to set.
I love this moment when the sun disappears from the horizon, most often masked here by a forest of grey-blue clouds.
I love to watch the sky blaze and the darkness envelop us, the promise of a new dawn, a new day at sea.
These moments make me philosophical and dreamy.

I like to imagine L’Aghulas II seen from a satellite. On this globe, we’re just a tiny speck lost in the immensity of the ocean, with a seagrass bed under our bow as vast as Switzerland.

So there are still mare incognitae to explore in 2022.
24 years ago, I promised myself to be a Philéas Fogg, a curious and free traveller.

A gamble worth taking!
How pretty the sea can be for a “strange” peasant…