Fleeing Russia, we sailed 24,000 km, unsupported and without the right to land.
Since then, several perilous voyages have been the only way we can stay together and live our lives.
The lengths we've gone to, the risks we've taken, and the abyss we've stared into, have given us a profound appreciation of life, love, and freedom.
We want to be citizens of the same country – a country that recognizes our family, grants us equal rights and freedoms, and allows us to choose our own path.
Elena and Meg
For us, an anticruise is a humongous (usually non-stop) voyage aboard the sailboat we escaped with. It's not about having fun, watered drinks, showing off, or even going places. It's doing whatever it bloody-well takes to stay alive and take back your life. It's doing what's right for you without anchors, chains, expectations, and fear. An anticruise is limitless, insanely dangerous, and intensely real. It's as close to the now as you can get. It's knowing, you are entirely alone out there, and absolutely everything is up to you!
We've done a number of anticruises since the big run-for-our-lives-from-Russia; it's why we know that love conquers all, and that there is nothing more important than our freedom and dreams.
Cruising means: expectations met, no surprises, minimal effort, giving in, giving up, taking the easy way out.
As an activity (a truly misused word, in this case), cruising is pretty much letting someone else pilot the ship. Cruising's modus operandi is to remain firmly anchored in the zone of maximum comfort, total safety and minimal effort: zero risk.
Anticruising is the opposite: forward motion with little or no stopping. In other words, anticruising is full-on living without boundaries. It's not about getting to a destination, or even having one, but about the journey.