None Of Your Penguins

The Common Wealth for The Common Good

2012-01-30T13:31:00.001-08:00

I really don't want to see the U.S. have to go through what's happening in Europe.

"Because far from the President wanting to follow Europe, it's actually the Republicans, both those running for President and those already elected to the House who desperately want to follow that continent."

--Martin Bashir

http://crooksandliars.com/karoli/martin-bashir-exposes-great-republican-hoax

Since it should be obvious by now that austerity, as a fiscal policy, leads to the kind of unemployment numbers we are seeing in Europe, then why are there members of Congress who are still pushing it?

Against all this shit going on in our country, it might be useful to examine the histories of Sweden and Norway, and their approach to financial uncertainty. Uh, no, not in our current times. They avoided all the mess we and the rest of Europe are in the middle of. The change they created happened before we were born (had to "touch up" things a bit during the 60's, though). Read:

http://www.alternet.org/story/153929/how_swedes_and_norwegians_broke_the_power_of_the_'1_percent'/?page=entire

While I do believe Capitalism can work (only if harnessed, like a horse or an ox, for the common good), Norway and Sweden are examples of Socialism done correctly. The common wealth for the common good is the only answer.

--Dave

14 Punctuation Marks That You Never Knew Existed

2012-01-24T12:52:00.000-08:00

14 Punctuation Marks That You Never Knew Existed

Just a quicky post on this BuzzFeed page. Punctuation!!! I am a grammar geek! I many not know all the in's and out's of the English Language, but that doesn't mean that I don't love a well-crafted sentence or paragraph. On top of that, I also love typography. These lovely dingbats (printers' term for figures other than letters and basic punctuation) do make my mind expand over the intentions of these readerly road signs.

I have to thank Neko Case for Re-Tweeting 826 National's original tweet. For the ignorant, Neko Case is an indie music artist with a serious set of pipes and a writer of curious, brilliant songs. If you've never heard her sing, your aural life remains incomplete. Her break-through album was Fox Confessor Brings the Flood. Not a bad way to start, though Blacklisted is super-awesome, too. Actually, all of her albums are worth the listen. 826 National, in their words, "is a family of eight non-profit organizations dedicated to helping students, age 6-18, with expository and creative writing." I'm glad there is an organization dedicated to helping school-age kids learn the ropes of writing. All to learn how to raise the sails of language, to heave ahead the vessel of expression.

--Dave E.

2012-01-17T23:15:00.000-08:00

Well, it would seem that Blogger isn't into the Anti-SOPA/PIPA protest enough to make it easy to blackout ones blog. Like, come on?! They know SOPA/PIPA would ill-affect them. They gotta make it easy for the community to express themselves together. In lieu of that, here is this link to assist anyone visiting here with the means to join voice and effort towards fighting Internet censorship. Please click through or copy and paste this link: http://sopastrike.com/strike/ This is my protest.

Boy Vs Army

2011-12-21T21:40:00.000-08:00

Please visit this site for the image: Boy vs Army. It will touch your hopeful, angry humanity.

"Boy vs Army" reminds me of Francesco Messina's defiant bronze statue of "David", located in the Vatican Museums in Rome: What's pressing back against oppression, rising against the giant. Here, the boy is wading through the tide. The diff is Messina's boy has a shank in his hand: Time for the head to come off. These boys have the same jug ears.

Twitter

2011-12-16T18:00:00.000-08:00

Speaking of drugs: And then there is Twitter.

I think this might be the start of my second year tweeting. I tell you, it's entirely possible to spend way too much of your time involved with that form of social media. In these times of #OWS, the #99%, Anonymous, WikiLeaks, and the obvious slanting of the news by most of mainstream media, it's very hard to keep myself from falling nose-first into Twitter and the independent reporting and witnessing going on there. Since I'm practically house-bound these days, I've been addicted to re-tweeting posts with links to good reporting, thoughtful essays, and on-the-ground witnessing. Of course, there are the tweets with the potential of becoming a powerful meme. Love to RT those, too.

As exciting and informative as Twitter can be, you know you might have a problem when you wake up in the middle of the night (for what ever reason) and end up staying up an extra hour or three staring at your mobile device while in bed. My bad. Sometimes I wonder if Twitter is more suited to people who are either single or with a partner equally into it.

Just the same, it was very exciting to follow the role the Anonymous collective had with the Occupy BART protests against the killing of an unarmed man by BART police--and then to the Occupy Wall Street movement. I'm impressed by the way Anonymous utilized social media to mobilize public sentiment to public statement. As a member of a society struggling to become a more perfect democracy, I find this to be a good thing.

And it makes it that much harder for me to stay away. Oh well...

Knee Surgery

2011-12-16T16:34:00.000-08:00

About a week or so after I came home from 90 days on the containership S.S. Maui, I made my appointment with my general practitioner at Group Health Co-operative. My right knee had been nagging me something fierce since the first night I sailed on the Maui. Actually, it was more like a three or four year old nagging in the knee got substantially worse. That was back in August.

He then referred me to get an X-ray and, eventually, an MRI. Sure enough, I had a lateral tear in my right meniscus and my ACL was barely hanging on by a few threads. I was wondering why my knee made popping sounds on occasion. The discovery then put me on track to Orthopedics and the certainty of surgery.

It is now mid-December. My surgery was on the first. Oxycodone is now my friend. Why do I say that? Well, my first night back after going under the knife was brutal with pain. We're talking the teeth-chattering kind. The crummy part of waking up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and finding yourself in that much pain was finally realizing that the hinge of my knee brace wasn't properly aligned with my knee. In other words, the brace was trying to make my knee bend where it wasn't supposed to. I'd say that the pressure point was located approximately where my ACL graft was anchored inside my shin bone. I ended up taking an extra pill, though I was already taking two every four hours. Not good at all. Eventually, I did figure out what the real problem was and adjusted the brace a little further up my thigh. Quite the rite of passage.

This isn't the first time I've had that kind of surgery. The first time was back in the winter of 1997/98, when I first tore my ACL and meniscus in the same knee. Back then, the surgeon took a graft from my hamstring to repair the ACL and sutured the deepest of the three tears in the meniscus. The difference between the two grafts is that the first one was not as robust of a piece of tissue. I suppose that might have something to do with the recent failure. This time around, my surgeon went to the Tissue Bank for something as robust as a normal ACL.

On the side of recovery, I feel lucky this time around, because my surgery happened before my ACL completely failed. Had it completely ruptured, I would not have been walking on the days leading up to the surgery and maintaining leg strength. Back in 1998, I had been on crutches for the month leading up to the surgery. Yes, I had been in physical therapy prior, but it's not the same as actually walking around. I feel lucky this time around.

And the drugs? Umm... For the first time in my medical history of having to use pain killers, I have to say that I actually have come to wonder about the effect the opiates have upon my "thinking." I know that sounds strange, but I've been having these moments when my imagination kind of squirrels to one side, and I end up saying some odd things. What do I mean by that? Well, imagine yourself suddenly coming up with something kind of witty or funny. However, the bug is that, yes, what you end up saying is kind of funny and witty--except that there's this weird edge to what you say. It's kind of like saying something creepy without actually being creepy. Maybe "fringy-weird-funny" might be more accurate. If I were a comedian, I would expect nervous giggling coming from the audience as the appropriate response.

I can't say that I've felt this kind of weirdness before. Or, at least, noticed it before. I just hope it doesn't get out of hand. Margaret gives me these odd glances every now and then. I've already shared all this with her, so she at least has some context to better understand what's happening when I say off-kilter stuff. Oh well.

Ciao!

None Of Your Penguins

2011-10-08T15:42:00.000-07:00

None Of Your Penguins

Cool graphic with Elizabeth Warren quotes on income, work, taxes, etc.

Created by: Online MBA Programs

A Better Blog App?

2011-07-09T20:46:00.000-07:00

I hate this iBlogger app. It really sucks compared to the Wordpress app for iPhone and iTouch. Any recommendations out there? Look at the way the pics got cropped! I did my best to avoid that but to no avail. I can't even go back to correct it. This sucks.

The Sadness of a Purple Finch

2011-07-09T20:30:00.000-07:00

Purple Finch

This tiny bird did not make it. One of my shipmates, Mike El Mobdy, found this purple finch a day out of Oakland and while washing down the ship's bridge wings. The first bad sign was that it was so easily caught. I tried feeding it water and some crackers, but it wouldn't take. After an hour or so, it fell over in a seizure and died. Kind of bleak.

Though I identify this bird as a Purple Finch, there were some odd differences from the description I found in my Sibley's field guide. Though the indicative "eye lashes" and the split lobed tail were present, this bird was at least an inch smaller and the tail length was clearly shorter than depicted in the illustration. Odd.

Weird Stuff Part 3

2011-07-09T20:20:00.000-07:00

Murrelet?

I found this bird in the same hold as the mystery fish. Seabirds often crash land on ships during the night. Since this particular cargo hold has no cover, it's not that surprising to find a dead bird down there. Not much runway to find the needed lift to get out of there--especially for an alcid.

More Weird Stuff

2011-07-09T20:15:00.000-07:00

Mystery Fish

I found these fish while sweeping out a cargo hold. Don't recognize the species. How did they get down there is a mystery to me.

Marine Life

2011-05-12T20:19:00.001-07:00

Pacific White Sided Dolphin

7/10
An amazing day for seeing marine life! The Maui left Seattle around 4:00 am. and was exiting the Straits of Juan de Fuca when I came on watch, just before noon. Probably within the first 90 minutes, 2nd Mate Mark Cooper and I saw what must have totaled over a hundred Pacific White Sided dolphin. We also spotted Dall's porpoise, seals, sharks cruising at or just below the surface, and even a baleen whale that tried to hide its presence by exhaling underwater. Overall an awesome afternoon on the bridge.

Weird Stuff Found on Ship part 1

2011-05-12T20:19:00.000-07:00

Red-tailed Tropicbird

Here are a couple of pictures of some odd or unusual things I've encountered aboard ship.

The first is a Red-Tailed Tropicbird. I actually encountered it while aboard my last ship, the Matson containership S.S. Kauai. However, since my current ship, the S.S. Maui, is the sister ship to the Kauai and replaced her on the same run, it seemed fair game.

This bird was found stranded and seasick. Seasick? Yes. The ship's motion is too foreign to seabirds and leaves them too incapacitated to fly off. This one received a hand from me and held over the railing to fly back to the water.

Mobile Blogging from here.

Before Arrival @ The Dock

2011-05-08T20:07:00.000-07:00

The Stern Gang Hanging Out Before Docking

Here's Lou Hollings, Nick Hoogendam, and 3rd Mate Mary Grimshaw. We're waiting for the tug to show up. They're a great bunch of people to work with. Together, we make it look easy.

S.S. Maui in Honolulu

2011-05-05T10:05:00.000-07:00

View from the bridge

This is a view from the Maui bridge wing, looking towards Downtown Honolulu and Diamond Head in the distance.

Beautiful San Francisco

2011-05-02T21:03:00.000-07:00

San Francisco

Sailing Into SF Bay

2011-05-02T21:01:00.000-07:00

Golden Gate Bridge Astern

Back To Sea

2011-05-02T20:21:00.000-07:00

Aboard the S.S. Maui

I reported aboard the Maui on Saturday morning, sailed Sunday morning around midnight, and am ashore in Oakland, CA. Not much left to do by the time the ship was fast alongside the dock and the molasses barge tied up and hose connected.

Government Shutdown Hinged On This???

2011-04-09T13:04:00.000-07:00

Unbelievable! I can't believe that the House GOP are so willing to throw women's health issues under the bus in the name of shutting down government. The link to the ABC webpage is in the above title. The defunding of Planned Parenthood was what the GOP wanted in trade for not shutting down government. House Minority Leader Harry Reid pointed out that Planned Parenthood mostly is about providing cancer screenings, contraception, and mammograms to women who can't afford normal healthcare services. That's 90% of what PP does. Since Planned Parenthood is barred from using Federal money for abortions, what the GOP can only be after is waging war on poor women, if not on all women.

Take in the video clips to get a sense of the smoke screen Rep. Mitch McConnell and the other GOP are pumping out to obscure the fact that they've snuck in riders directed at social issues which they care more about than spending issues. They talk only in generalities without speaking directly to the real crux of things. Thank God Obama answered with a flat-out No. No argument. Just, "Nope. Zero" Read more on this here: http://blogs.abcnews.com/thenote/2011/04/how-government-shutdown-was-averted-behind-the-planned-parenthood-deal.html

What disappointed me was that there weren't many women present at the top-level budget negotiations. No doubt the meeting would have gone over time. As it was, Sen. Patty Murray was wearing her Senate veto in a hip holster for the world to see she was waiting for her turn. "Women are not going to be thrown under the bus in this country for this agreement," she said. Do you think the men were afraid of quality sound bites making the news?

BTW, the Congressional Budget Office says the GOP budget would increase public debt over the 10 years of the budget--more than if nothing were done. Also, the budget will increase the burden of medical expenses upon seniors, the disabled, and the elderly. Read it here: http://tpmdc.talkingpointsmemo.com/2011/04/cbo-gop-budget-would-increase-debt-then-stick-it-to-medicare-patients.php

Of the 1%, by the 1%, for the 1% Society: vanityfair.com

2011-04-06T16:27:00.000-07:00

Read this! Nobel laureate Economist Joseph Stiglitz writes on how the super-rich (the top 1%) has corrupted U.S. Government and tilted the playing field of opportunity to favor only themselves. Yeah, this isn't news to some of us, but he clearly diagrams the whole picture. Great talking points for when you're getting "fact bombed" by Libertarians and Conservatives. Here's the link:

Of the 1%, by the 1%, for the 1% Society: vanityfair.com

So true!

2011-04-04T18:01:00.002-07:00

More MLK Labor Rally Pics

2011-04-04T18:01:00.000-07:00

Amen!

Another MLK Rally Pic

2011-04-04T17:54:00.000-07:00

Gotta love her button! Rita is with the Intl Association of Machinists.

4/4/2011 Seattle MLK Labor Rally

2011-04-04T17:51:00.001-07:00

My union is here, too! Sailors Union of the Pacific!

Oops...!

2010-07-10T13:45:00.000-07:00

Sorry about those ls two posts: Not in chronological order. They were sent via the ship's email, and I had a hang-up with rememebering my blog's email address. At least I dated the entries, in case something like this happened. There you go...

So I'm back in Seattle for a few hours today. The Kauai arrived in the wee hours of the morning, as usual. I would have headed home, right away, except that 0800 was all hands for lowering the starboard lifeboat. Every so-many months, the boats have to be tested in the water and puttered about a little. This is not a major thing; however, it's a bummer when it keeps you from being home--though as brief as it may be--with your sweetie-pie. Since the ship was all fast around 0215, and then a fuel barge came alongside shortly afterwards, I wasn't off the deck until around 0300. Since I would have needed to leave home around 0700, to make the lifeboat drop at 0800, there was no point in spending the night at home. Wahh! Since I was aboard, I was callec back out at 0645 to let go the fuel barge. Not much sleep for this dude.

Well, I'm not going to spend all my time at home blogging, so I shall leave off here and attend to that which calls me.

Ciao!
--Dave

Shipped Out Aboard the Matson Containership S.S. Kauai: Ukuleles in Hawaii!!!

2010-07-09T07:58:00.001-07:00

7/4/2010

Many apologies to those who died of boredom since the last time I posted on this blog. I spent a couple months more ashore than I ever intended. I left the President Truman in November and finally got a ship at the end of May. Somewhere in there, my shipping card burned, forcing me to re-register for a second time. Six months is way too long to be out of work.

By some miracle, I managed to finally score a Matson job. I’m now sailing aboard the Matson containership, the S.S. Kauai. This is a very mellow gig. We do this two-week route, going from Seattle to Oakland to Honolulu and back to Seattle. Seattle arrival at the dock is normally around 0200 Saturday morning, with departure about 22 hour later. Oakland is the following Monday around 5:00 pm, with departure about 23 hours later. Honolulu is about the same time the following Saturday, with departure about 24 hours later.

It is kind of crappy to arrive home at that hour in Seattle. However, seeing Margaret and getting to sleep in my own bed every two weeks is a nice thing. Saturday pretty much gets swallowed up with errands, but I can imagine worse. How about getting stuck on the ship and staring across the water at Elizabeth, New Jersey? Nothing against the fine people of New Jersey, but there’s no place like home. After all, the West Coast is my home. Moreover, I get to say hello to the cats and the hens, too!

So what of Hawaii? Not much time to do much, but at least I remember how to get around from when I lived there between 1971 and 1975. Still, Hawaii means a lot more to me than having lived there. On one side, as a child, I was able to discover the joys of Japanese cuisine. That stuff is everywhere, though deeply blended into the local cuisine. On the other side, there is my current obsession with the ukulele.

Yeah, yeah, I was supposed to post a video or an audio clip of me doing something on the ukulele. Sorry that didn’t happen. I’m still hashing out audio quality issues. It would appear that webcams suck wind and rock when it comes to rendering sound. I could barely give a damn about the video, but it’s the sound quality that sorely lacks. That project is hereby on standby.

Anyway, I’ve been in contact with the head luthier of KoAloha Ukuleles, Paul Okami. Heck of a nice guy! We’ve been trying to figure out how to arrange for a tour of his family’s factory, where my first ukulele was built. Sadly, July has been a busy time for the Okamis. Actually, it more that the ship’s timing has been on the busiest Sundays for them. The good thing is that they’re having fun. So the S.S. Kauai manages to arrive on the 4^th of July. Two weeks later, it happens that it’s the Hawaii Ukulele Festival. Of course, I will make that. A long ride on a bike, but it sure beats the cost of a cab ride there. As you can see, July is “chock-a-block” for everyone. Busy fun.

So why have I been talking with Paul? Well, I hate to admit it, but I really want one of KoAloha’s tenor ukuleles. Without having played them, it’s a toss up between the 4-string tenor and the 6-string “D-VI” tenor. The latter uke is strung and tuned similar to a guitar, though built on a tenor ukulele with a solid koa wood body. The idea is that you get the ukulele sound with guitar chords and such. However, the 4-string does present a quite different world of advantage. There are whole messes of jazz chords that are rather difficult on a guitar (for someone like me) but much simpler on the ukulele. Plus, The Girl From Ipanema sounds way better on a uke than a steel-string guitar: Small, intimate, and plaintive.

Meanwhile, I discovered that, while the kiosk at Ala Moana Mall, where I bought my soprano ukulele back in Y2K, is long-since gone, The Hawaiian Ukulele Company was the parent business. This I found out on my first trip to the Aloha Tower Mall. After looking for the closest KoAloha ukulele dealer to the ship, HUC turned up. After my first purchase of some music books, the proprietor, Mamiko Nelson, handed me a business card. When I looked at the layout with the icons and dingbats, I mentally flashed back to the original business card that still resides in my soprano uke case from ten years ago. Everything was the same, except for the business name: The Ala Moana Ukulele Company versus The Hawaiian Ukulele Company. So I had to ask. Mamiko was surprised that I made the connection: One in the same. We were both pleased--as if long lost friend found each other.

Now I’m starting to see a two-way convergence: I’ve been thinking that my soprano really needs the string action lowered a bit. At the same time, I really want a KoAloha tenor uke: Big time. As far as I can tell, the time is now. This last Sunday, I tuck my “Little Flea” into my back pack and ride my bike to The Hawaiian Ukulele Company. Now this turns into something bigger than Mamiko and I ever envisioned.

Ever since I first bought that soprano uke, I’ve been amazed by its tone. We’re talking about this little, tiny sound that manages to project with amazing clarity and brightness with ten year old generic strings. And this “little flea” was built within the first five or six years of the company’s existence—well before they became tied for the top ukulele builder in Hawaii. The sound is so uncanny that Mamiko kept picking up my uke to play and investigate.

What she told me is that, though I paid $365.00 back in December 2000, she feels that it’s now worth around $900.00!!! To cut to the chase, my uke is 100% solid Hawaiian koa wood. The front, back, and sides are all individual one-piece sections of wood. The front and back look to be cut from the same slice of wood. The neck and fret board are both koa wood. Also, the depth of the sound box (the body) is slightly deeper than the current, equivalent models.

There are other nuances, but, when it all comes down to it, I really feel that my soprano was the best soprano in the shop that day. The ukulele sounded so good, Mamiko felt that I shouldn’t even change those old strings. Weird, no? Actually, not: By instinct—despite the difficulty I have with cramming my fingers between those frets—I tend to grab that instrument first when I feel the impulse to play music. Even Margaret feels the same impulse to pick up that little flea. She’s actually considering taking lessons. You might sing at a whisper, but that uke will give you all the support you need. No more and no less. I feel so privileged that I do own something so sweetly accommodating. It might be a perfect musical instrument. In class with a Stradivarius? No. Among ukuleles: Yes!

Weirdness

2010-07-08T13:48:00.001-07:00

7/5/2010

Okay. Funny/weird things have been happening. It has to do with Jerry, this new day worker AB. He joined the ship the last time we were in Seattle. Jerry has this look in his face that makes him seem as if he’s either tense or been caught in the headlights. I actually think it’s the latter.

On Monday, the day of arrival into Oakland, I had sanitary duties. That meant I also had to relieve the helmsman for dinner. It’s one of those things where the sailors have decided it best to take one sailor, more or less, out of circulation for the day. Well, for some unknown reason, Arnold and Paul (two other Able Seamen) get it into their heads that Jerry had to relieve the wheel. The thing is, despite what anyone might have said, it should have been obvious that it wasn’t his day to do supper relief for the wheel.

You see, Jerry has sailed on more Matson ships than I have, so there should have been no confusion. Plain and simple, he should have known. Still, he went up before the proper time (4:50 pm) and relieved the helmsman as the ship sailed into San Francisco Bay. As soon as I found out that he went to the bridge, I decided that, since we were all on-call for the docking evolution and were all on the clock, it didn’t make any difference pay-wise. I just saved myself the walk and let him do my job.

Later, I quizzed him on: “How do you know it’s your turn for dinner chow relief?” Answer: “You are the Sano Man!!!” Bada-bing, bada-boom!!! I wasn’t surprised that deer caught in the headlights have no answer.

Yesterday, I was assigned to take a garden hose and rinse the stack soot from the after house (Deck officers forward, versus unlicensed deck and engine and licensed engineers in the aft house). After Jerry finished with his sanitary duties, he was assigned to help tend the 100 to 150 feet of hose I was working. There are all these nooks and crannies that hide soot, so I have to twist and turn a lot. Problem is, I kept coming up short on hose because Jerry had a grip six feet behind me and didn’t give me enough slack to turn with. “Jesus Christ, Jerry!” I snapped, “Back off and give me enough slack to move with! Whut tha fuck?”

Little over an hour later, something else comes up. I knew it must be getting close to coffee time—rather it was getting close to when Jerry needed to knock off early to make the coffee for the up-coming break. Since Sano Man is a day-long dedicated job, Sano Man has to also make the coffee for the coffee breaks. Since I was fully decked-out in rain gear and he wasn’t, I asked him if he could check the time for me. He then tells me that he doesn’t know. I say, “What? Don’t you have a watch?” “Well, no,” He replied, “I lost it on the last ship I was on.” I’m incredulous: “You mean to say that you never got another one? Dude, you’re too poor not to have a watch. Working people like us gotta have a watch. Only the homeless and the super-rich don’t wear watches.”

This morning, at breakfast, I thought to explain to Jerry that, since today is the beginning of the month, the Deck Department now has to add to the sanitary duties the Crew Lounge, the Laundry Room, and the Computer Room--from the first through the tenth. He then offers up that he has been cleaning the laundry room all along. All of a sudden I get this realization and say as much: “Well, Jerry, I guess that if you had been soogeeing the bulkheads, you would have noticed the sign over the sink that says the Deck Department does the Laundry, Lounge, and Computer rooms from the first through the tenth of the month.” Rim shot, please?

To be honest, I did apologize to Jerry--saying that, though I’m normally a nice guy, it’s very hard for me to pass up on the opportunity to give someone a hard time. “And, dude, you gave me an ‘in’.” Nothing personal, but… Actually, after I spoke, I felt more like saying that I’m normally an asshole but often mistaken for a nice guy. For the life of me, I wish the guy was not such a hapless buffoon.

Hey now!!! We just left Hawaii, and Jerry failed to buy himself a watch. Is this guy a nut? To say the least, I’ve been locking the door that joins my room to our shared restroom ever since I realized that dude is flaky as dandruff on an unbathed Cyclops: fearfully wrong. At this point, it seems that the world is best served if everyone points Jerry towards simple, meaningful jobs. Lord knows that I wouldn’t want him coming unglued.

Well, that’s all I have to report at this juncture.

Aloha!

--Dave E.

My How Things Change: Now an A-Book

2010-05-18T13:02:00.001-07:00

After my last hapless post, I now feel redeemed. Yesterday, I was sworn in as a full book member of The Sailors Union of the Pacific. I actually was handed my book last week, but it was yesterday that I was sworn in. It has been a long ten years, but I finally made it. I now won't have to wait around so long for work and can afford to be a little more choosy about the ship I take. Also, I can now start to take time away from work during Summer and during the Holiday season. It's a new day.

This is a big sea-change. Since now no longer have to take the first thing that comes along, I can now fulfill a promise I made to finally take a Matson ship running between Seattle, Oakland, and Honolulu. That will allow me to be home, for at least a few hours, every two weeks. I'm looking forward to that! It'll be so nice to see Margaret twice a month, instead of having to wait over five months. Next week, there's supposed to be three jobs opening up on the Kauai. My union agent says there's no reason that I shouldn't be able to get one of those berths.

I can't wait!

Aloha!
--Dave

Beggars Can't Be Choosers...

2010-04-28T12:52:00.000-07:00

I flippin' can't believe it. After being ashore since November, getting edged-out of work a month and a half ago, and having to re-register two weeks ago, a big mess of jobs showed up today on a ship. And I blew it!

It's all looking good this morning, with the number of jobs and my ranking with among those looking to get out. Vince calls for a Bosun. Two A-Books throw in, and the guy with the Bosun's stamp wins out. And here's where I screwed up: Rhonda (the other A-book) doesn't throw back in for the next group of jobs--that of watch standers. She's holding out for one of the two dayworker slots.

Not realizing how the playing field just shifted, I'm thinking that I'm out of luck vying for a watchstanding slot. So I hold back my shipping card for one of the two day worker slots. You can see where this is heading. Meanwhile, I'm sitting very low in my shipping seniority list, and the last watchstander job gets snagged by someone lower than myself. Since Rhonda is wielding her A-Card, she already secured her dayworker berth. And, since another B-Book with an older card than mine wanted that last dayworker slot, I was left out in the cold.

Once again, I get taught the age-old lesson that "beggars can't be choosers." Well, at least something is supposed to turn up two weeks from now. The President Truman might cough up something. To think that was the ship I was hoping to sail on again--back eight weeks or so ago.

Airstream Coffee and Doughnuts to go

2010-04-01T09:42:00.001-07:00

Any foodie wouldn't have been surprised by the Oregon plates on this tiny Airstream trailer that sells doughnuts and coffee. Though hard to discern, there is a shiny riveted-aluminum doughnut on top with the words, "Top Spot," painted on the round. Very cool to see scooting along on northbound Hwy 99. Yes, I do think Airstreams are cool.

Weird-Assed Shit...

2010-03-27T22:58:00.000-07:00

Is Mercury in Weird-Assed Shit mode? We're talking the world of communication and the means of getting through. It's as if you're trying to get something done, and it's the means which is keeping it from happening.

I've been trying to ship out for the past two or three weeks, and it has been for not. I keep on getting aced-out by others with greater priority. But that's how unions rig things to favor those who have been on the waiting list the longest.

Still, Mercury in WAS keeps running interferance in other ways. The lastest victim was my recording a video clip of my many takes of two ukulele songs I've been working on. Ha ha!!! So I finally have a reasonably good take of Minnie The Moocher. I turns out that the file is too big for me to upload, via email, to this blog. OKAY! Now what? You see, there never is an easy way. There never is. Sure, the idea is so sweet, easy, and perfect--but it never works the way you were hoping it would.

On the otherside of things, I had to visit my mom to give her a hand with some work around her house. On the way back, I decided to take the ferry from Southworth to Fauntleroy/West Seattle. I brought my uke along to practice some songs, in case such an opportunity presented itself.

It was pretty sweet. I was lucky enough to get parked at the front of the boat. Nothing but the changing view of Puget Sound--from the departure view across to West Seattle and the east side of the Sound, the backwards entry to Vashon Island and the northerly view to Eagle Island, and the final approach into Fauntleroy. All a while, I worked out some tunes on the uke and a number with a harmonica solo. It felt good. I promise to get the songs I worked on posted.

Ciao!
--Dave

Ukulele Baby!!!

2010-03-22T00:23:00.000-07:00

This here is one of my musical treasures. It is a September 2000 KoAloha Soprano ukulele.

I bought this sweet little number new, back then in 12/2000, when I had to bail a ship in Hawaii, after a knee cap to hip bruise/contusion. The overnight spell in Honolulu gave me the opportunity to visit the shopping mall of my childhood. There, I found the Ala Moana Ukulele Shop kiosk--and this all koa wood soprano ukulele. Apparently, back then, one could buy such a uke for under $400. Nowadays, there's no hope (except for an Ebay score), to get such a perfect example of a Hawaiian koa ukulele. Tone? I just visited Dusty Strings, in Seattle's Fremont 'hood today. There was this $4K Martin uke that paled in comparison. Sure, that little flea was a very sweetly crafted instrument, but it didn't have the volume and clarity of my Kama'aina flea. Wasn't there a band by the name of "The Screaming Fleas"? That's my uke!

So what have I been doing with the dancing flea? For only the last two years, after the previous eight? Hey now! The first song I figured out was Bob Welch's (formally of Fleetwood Mac) Sentimental Lady. The second was the folk song, Wayfaring Stranger. Those two took me, together, about one year. More recently, I figured out Minnie The Moocher. That probably took me about three weeks to memorized. My latest project is Mac The Knife. It's coming along.

The first version of MacHeath I heard was Bobby Darin's. His take has been the definitive version for me, for decades. However, I have to admit that Sting's slow rendition struck me as something that might have roots to the original stage production. What made me think that? Well, if you grab a uke and start slow, soulfully, staccato-raking the strings, you'll quickly get the sense of the difference between the two rhythms.

If I get my shit together soon enough, I'll make it a point to post some videos of my playing.

Fuuuuuuck!!!!!!! Me playing!!!!????? Scary sheeett!

Actually, the hardest thing to avoid is the sudden Foxtrot Uniform.

Standby....

At Home... Still!

2010-03-21T23:43:00.000-07:00

Well, I've been in the union hall again. It has been two weeks since I started looking for a ship again, and all has not been going as well as I would hope for. A couple of jobs were posted on the shipping board, but I was beaten out on all occasions. How did that happen? Well, it goes like this.

For one, I waited a little too long, after returning home, to re-register my shipping card. What's that all about? Well, the "game" works like this: The shipping cards issued by my union expire after 3 months. If I happen to have a ship in mind that I would like to sail on and there ought to be a job opening there on a given date, it would be a good idea to make sure my card is as mature as possible on the date that job gets posted. But it's never as easy as that.

Registering your shipping card for a ship can be tricky business. As I said before, the ideal is to have the oldest card on the job call date. However, should the ship become inordinately delayed, or there is a surprise schedule change for the ship, or someone with greater seniority beats you out, you will be left with an expired card. You are now at the bottom of your seniority list and having to wait for your card to mature all over again. Since I'm a B-card, there's always the chance that a full-book member (A-cards have invested six or more years of sea-time with the union. That can take anywhere from eight to twelve years) can snatch a job I've been gunning for out from under me.

To minimize the degree of job-seeking damage that kind of subterfuge can inflict upon me, I usually plan on having a little over two months on my card when shooting for a ship. Giving myself that extra month leeway allows me that month's worth of opportunity to salvage work somewhere else. Unfortunately, when the ship I was waiting for (the President Truman) showed up, two guys came out of the woodwork and beat me out. What made it really sting was that both of them were in my seniority level. Then again, it was obvious that they were waiting to get out for a long while. Chances are, they needed the work more than myself. No resentment there. We're all brothers in the struggle.

The Evils of Technicalities
Despite all that disappointment, there is still a bright side to all this shipping-out biz. It has wonderfully happened that American Presidents Line added an extra week to their ships' schedule--from 8 weeks/56 days to 9 weeks/63 days. What's so good about a longer voyage? According to the Sailors Union of the Pacific's Shipping Rules, Shuttle Voyages (trips that neither begin or end on the West Coast) are a minimum of 120 days and a maximum of 180 days.

How is that interpreted in cases of voyages greater or less than these times? If a given set of voyages fall short of the 120 day minimum, another voyage must be undertaken to secure a paid trip back home to the West Coast, as well as recognition as having not quit and access to unemployment insurance. That's the short side of things. With the old schedule, you had to do a three trip minimum of 24 weeks, for a total of 168 days. With the new schedule, it's down to two trips and only 18 weeks, for a total of 126 days. 42 days is a huge difference when it comes to your own personal measure of sanity, being able to score your free ticket home and unemployment money.

So here's the other tasty bit of scheduling news that's filtered down to the butt of scuttle: Despite the East Coast ships having to visit a very unsecure and unnamed port, it has been said that the ships will be visiting GENOA, ITALY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Is that not AWESOME or what?

I am dancing the jungle boogie as I write.

Reptile Attacks Reporter!!! Leaping Lizards!!!

2010-03-10T13:41:00.000-08:00

First of all, I have to thank the folks at 10 Zen Monkeys (http://www.10zenmonkeys.com/) for posting this video. It was part of their 5 Best Videos of Animals Attacking Reporters. You can chase down the rest--if you want. The link is embeded in the title for your convenience. However, I'm presenting you this one video, because this was the most harmless one, as one can say the critter wasn't really attacking the reporter. Perhaps it mistook him for a tree?

The reporter's reaction is priceless. What's great is how he maintains his sense of humor.

Have a nice day, where ever you are!

Multimedia message

2010-03-10T00:58:00.000-08:00

Matilda kitten sez, "Hai!" She's hoping to snare a LOL Cat gig by the looks of it.

At Home: Greenhouse, Bad Feather Day, and Peeps Perching.

2010-03-02T17:03:00.000-08:00

I recently looked back into the photos I took, back when I first arrived home. I think the subject matter says a lot.

Here's the greenhouse I built for Margaret. It wasn't fully finished when I shipped out last year, around the end of spring. I managed to get all the glazing on, with the exception of the door and a salvaged window pane on the east side, to the right of the door. What was still unfinished However, with the help of Grant, the husband of one of Margaret's friends, Betty, this is how it looks now. Grant did a great job! Leave it to someone who actually knows something about building construction--unlike me.

Above is a glimse inside to how Margaret decorated things. It's her happy pod!

This is how I left it looking when I shipped out last year. Still some shingles left to put up. Like I said, Grant did an awesome job completing it.

Here's Edie recovering from her first molt. Looks like a bad feather day. Too bad I missed out on seeing what a full-fledged molt looks like. Only she and Henny, the other Amerucana, molted. As it turns out, when chickens molt, they stop laying eggs. With the combination of the loss of feathers and the onset of winter, egg production slowed to a crawl. I suspect that mostly Penny and sometimes Butch were the only ones laying. There were that few eggs. Even now, in March, production isn't like last year's, though it is clear that the girls are actually ramping back up.

Here's Butch and Penny--our top layers. Penny was the first to earn her keep, back two winters ago. She may be the nervy, noisy type, but she always produces more than the others.

Here's a good shot of Henny. Notice the minimal comb and absence of wattle? The girls do love perching on the bedroom window sill. The rhody bush also gives them good protection from the eagles that sometimes glide by. When the crows raise the alarm, the hens dash for cover. Yes, I have seen that happen!

Oh, yeah. One more picture. This is where the girls aly their eggs and sleep the night away. It may not look like much, but the design was more to suit the needs of a chicken than any human aesthetic. Inside are roosts leading up to the nest boxes. That they have to ascend to their nests adds to the sense of security needed for a stress-free egg laying session. Nothing but the best for the girls!

Umm... By the way, Margaret still isn't letting me post--let alone take--a picture of her.

Ciao!

--Dave

Back Home (Three+ Months Later...) with Flashbacks

2010-03-01T18:04:00.000-08:00

Sorry for not posting after having been home for over three months. It's just that I always have to get my head on straight before I can begin again dealing with life ashore. If I'm lucky, I can manage that after about a week. There have been times when it took me a little over a month. No kidding. People shouldn't underestimate the experience of months of very restricted social interaction and then being thrown into a virtual ocean (pun intended) of humanity. Hey, any group of people numbering over 20 is more than I had to cope with while I was working. All I can say is to imagine someone getting out of prison after serving time.

Anyway, it's always good to be home. Unfortunately, this stay at home is going to be shorter than last time. As a matter of fact, it's now March, and I'll be back in the union hall looking for a ship towards the end of this week. Not that I'm guaranteed to get a ship, but it's more the matter that I've pointed my nose back in that direction. Fugly.

So what have I done since I got home in November? Well, let's reel things back a little. Um... How about back a lotta ways.

I really don't wish to neglect some pictures I took on my last voyage on the President Truman. This is the mosque at Port Suez, at the south end of the canal. If you click the image, you will be able to view it in greater detail. This is an amazing piece of architecture. There is so much for the eye to take in. Though I've been through the Suez Canal many times over, this particular structure never fails to engage me.

Below is a picture of one of my favorite sailors to ship out with, Mike Orosz. Big Mike and I always manage to have a good time. It doesn't matter what we might be up to, but we always manage to squeeze a laugh out of near any situation. Sadly, we somehow manage to spend no more than one round trip together on a ship. Also, he's looking to retire soon, so I'll view myself as lucky if I sail with him at least once more.

This here is one skinny waterspout I saw while the Truman was sailing north through the Straits of Malacca. I think we were off of Port Kelang, Malaysia when I spotted it.

Below is the Mount Lavinia Hotel. It's located in Colombo, Sri Lanka and dates back to the early 1800's. Apparently, the new British Governer arrived and was disappointed with the residence he was presented with. In turn, he had built this palace.

I have to say that the one thing more impressive is the view out back. The following picture was taken earlier in the day.

Very nice poolside scene.

Just before sunset, a rain squall drove everyone inside. While I waited for the dinner hour, a group of young musicians came in and started their set. The music is pretty cool and represents well the South Asian musical traditions, though I suspect the music is of India and not Sri Lanka. Still, the drowsy sound well suited the post-rain humidity.

This is a Mediterranean fog bank. Most awesome looking, but one pain in the ass. If I recall correctly, we were sailing somewhere near Sicily. I suppose the temperature difference between the western and eastern halves of the Med and tide pushing water around is the main cause.

How do you know you're almost out of the Med? How about The Rock of Gibraltar? Cool, no?

Well that about covers the last group of pictures that I wanted to post. Whatever I forgot to include, I imagine I'll have plenty of opportunity to post new pictures of the same in the future. Next post will be of what has been so good about being home--now that I'm about to ship out again... Boo hoo!

Ciao, Peeps!
--Dave

Bad News From Home

2009-11-01T03:33:00.000-08:00

Major Bummer! I called home from Sri Lanka and could hear in Margaret's voice that something was wrong. Apparently, two days ago, Wanda the cat was hit by a car and was found in a neighbor's yard. She's the cat featured near the beginning of my blog, back in June or July. I was shocked and dumbfounded, as Wanda seemed too sharp to allow that to happen. My theory is that it was a hybrid car that did her in. I say that because she grew up near busy intersections (46th and Fremont Ave in Seattle) and never got in trouble. She was used to traffic. Well, I should stop with that blathering, as I'll only get more depressed. I know it will really hit me when I return home in two and a half weeks and not have her greet me.

That enough for me for now. The ship will be leaving Sri Lanka early tomorrow morning. Might as well sign off.

Ciao!
--Dave

Back In the Orient Again: Banana Port Control, Jamming on the Uk e, Jack Tar Guilty and Fined, and Seafarers Club WiFi Bandwidth

2009-10-20T02:11:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the lack of updates. I've been kind of distracted lately. Yes, "The Blue Screen of Death" and the task of rebuilding my hard-drive. Of course, that only takes up so much time, but it's more about finding out
what no longer can be done, due to lost codecs and other items installed through 6 years of updates to resident software.

Another distraction that has kept me away from blogging is that I've been trying to learn the folk song, "Wayfaring Stranger" on the ukulele. The chords aren't that difficult to learn and get right. What is hard is memorizing all the lyrics. There isn't really that much when it comes to the number of words and verses. The problem is with the regional turns of phrase. As a speaker of the West Coast dialect of American Standard English, my language habits make me want to resort to words not in the song to say the same thing. This is a big No-No when you have end-rhymes. I actually have a photo copy of the lyrics in my pocket as I type. If I wasn't so tired all the time, I probably would have had this task completed by now. At least the song sounds like it was meant to be played on the uke. Since the song is about someone looking forward to dying and minor chords sound brittle when played on a ukulele, it really works.

The ship is currently heading for Singapore, having finished with Jebel Ali this morning. The passage through the Med and the Suez Canal all went well. The passage through the Straits of Hormuz (between Iran to the north and Oman and U.A.E. to the south) gave the night watches a heavy dose of Banana Radio. The Filipinos, Pakistanis, Indians, and others were out in full force insulting each other over Channel 16 ("I can't see you, but I can smell you."). There will be more of that, as the ship exits the Persian Gulf. Fujairah, U.A.E. has an incredible number of ships sitting at anchor there. Basically, at night is when the stars of "Banana Port Control" come out. I just wish these clowns didn't jam-up the frequency reserved for ship-to-ship hailing.

Jebel Ali went as well as one can hope for. I went to the Seafarer's club again and finally managed to get online with my laptop. The WiFi system was easy enough to connect through with; however, with all the people there with laptops being online, the speed of the broadband connection was reduced significantly. This was very apparent when loading web pages and attempting to navigate through my Hotmail account. Often images failed to load. When I visited Boing Boing, download time was long and many image boxes remained blank after the Internet browser indicated it was finished loading. One other thing I discovered was that the videos I uploaded to my blog are presently missing. I don't know if the fault was with my computer's browser of if it's with my blog. Either way, I have no way of knowing at this point. I am bummed.

Another killer to the online experience was that my computer's processing power was distracted by its need for updating. Imagine all those seafarers' laptops doing the same thing, because we've all been at sea and away from an Internet connection for the past month or so. Now imagine the drain to bandwidth. Flashback to dial-up, anyone?

One more thing about the Club: The band was back again. The big difference was that there was a new girl on stage. I should have spent some time taking them in, but the Internet took priority and two of my shipmates wanted to go back to the ship as soon as they were done online. Geez, what's with this new generation? What ever happened to sitting around in a bar and knocking back a few cold ones and BS'ing until closing? Umm... How about the amount of cig smoke in the room and the need for sleep? There you go.

The latest word on the sailor who was taken into custody four months ago, is that he was declared guilty of whatever it was they charged him for (Bad-mouthing the country?) and fined $2700.00. Since there are still more formalities that need to move forward, he's still in custody. Fortunately, he has been staying in an extended-stay hotel suite somewhere--instead of jail. At this point, no one knows how much long it will be. For some reason, something tells me that I'll make it home before he does. Since the ship finished cargo way ahead of schedule, we were called out at 0345. Unfortunately, that turned out to be premature. More trucks with containers kept appearing at the last minute, prolonging our stay by more than an hour. An then, the pilot took forever to arrive at the ship. In the end, we didn't get underway until after 0600. Unbelievable! So I now have to go to bed to make up for that loss of sleep. No, it's more like I NEED to.

So that's it. Good night for now. By the way: Less than a month to go before I'm home!!!
Ciao!
--Dave

Grim Tidings...? or "The Blue Screen of Death Strikes Again!!!"

2009-10-10T15:54:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it's happening. My Gateway notebook computer finally has
shown me the blue screen of death. It's been six years since I bought it,
and--after all the wheezing and puffing it has exhibited to me over the last
couple of years--it finally decided to wave the blue flag. Well, instead of
letting it die a dignified death, I decided to resusitate the coma victim.
I am re-formatting the hard-drive. I accept the ugly fate of amnesia in the
name of preserving the body. Re-education might restore the memory, but I
realize that this creature will never be the same. It will be like the mind
of a child inserted into a body in mid-life crisis. I did save all the "My
Documents" folder in an external hard drive or thumb drive. Somewhere. So
hope springs eternal.

I return to my stateroom/the patient's quarters to assess the progress.
Wish us well.

Ciao!
--Dave

Obama's Nobel Peace Prize

2009-10-10T03:33:00.000-07:00

Are we surprised that Obama was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, or what? I
have to laugh, as I know there are a lot of detractors out there who are
gnashing their teeth. Still, it's safe to say that what he was recognized for was his reaching out to the international community and for his respectful tone. In other words, the recognition is more for how he is
going about things than for what he has accomplished. From what I've read in the NY Times Digest, it would seem that this is a point that Obama's critics miss completely. Then again, this is also the same thing the Bush
Adminstration failed to grasp while they held the reins. There you go.

Ciao!
--Dave

Graffiti-Style Street Art in Singapore

2009-09-27T19:54:00.000-07:00

Here's some pictures of some Singapore urban art. The first one is taxi dashboard art. I really dig the strange, featureless smiley doll sitting above the Jesus cross word. For some reason it makes me think of Karl Marx saying that religion is the opium for the masses.

The following pics are of the only instance of street art I've seen in Singapore. I think I saw these before at either Boingboing.net or the Wooster Collective website. I highly recommend both.

This last one made me laugh. Like it makes the joke: What does Count Dracula and a vacuum cleaner have in common? They both suck." Of course, you are not laughing. I'm not disappointed by that, you know.

Well I hope you enjoyed the pics. I hope to figure out more to post by the time I reach Jebel Ali and Singapore. Certainly some of the new guys in the Deck Gang, eh?

Ciao!
--Dave

Minor Update: Heading Westbound Across the Atlantic

2009-09-23T15:53:00.000-07:00

September 20, 2003

The ship is clear of the Mediterranean and heading across the Atlantic, back
to New York's Staten Island. We've received notice of the new guys for the
Deck Department. I've sailed with two of the guys before, so I'm happy to
see them again. Both Big Mike Orosz and Dave Shands are good people. The
Bosun is new to me, but Norm vouches for him. That is a good thing.
Captain Carubia will be back for next trip, but we will be getting a new
Chief Mate. The Mate who normally is scheduled for this interval sailed as
relief captain for this trip. Bill Westrum also got promoted to the captain
slot on the APL Japan, so that explains the opening here. Additionally,
Captain Diederiks would normally be here for the interval of next trip,
except that he decided to retire. As his replacement, Captain Reynolds,
from the APL Thailand, will be promoted to this ship. This is a promotion,
because the C-10's pay at a higher rate for captains and mates than the
C-11's.

These changes will be interesting, as it will significantly change the scene
for the Truman. I hope to keep in touch with the guys who will remain
behind here after I leave in November. I hope to return here, when I ship
again in March. If the word gets out too much that the Truman is a good
ship--which it is--then I can expect some A-books to start getting in my
way. All three of the sailors coming to this ship are A-books, so the
change just might be at hand. My fingers are crossed that this is only an
accidental blip on the radar screen of the future. It's hard enough finding
a good ship these days. APL added two re-flagged ships for the S.U.P. to
this route. Unfortunately, they pay at a lower rate than the existing ships
we have. Worse than that, the days you have to work on those ships for
medical benefits is bad. There, you have to return to work two months after
get off, least you lose your benefits. Considering that you have to work 5
½ months (three trips) to get your unemployment and transportation home, you
are getting a very raw deal. After three trips, you really have no desire
to return until close to four months have passed. Since I view the
President Polk as a pariah of the fleet (two fucked-up captains), I have
only the Jackson and the Truman as viable ships to work on. If I find that
I have enough time with the Union to get my A-book, I'll be looking to fly
to Hawaii, San Francisco, or Los Angeles to get a job before I have to ship
on the Polk, Agate, or Japan. At least I'll have fun (though not in Los
Angeles) while waiting for a ship.

Well, it looks like water spout weather is upon us. I saw one this morning
while on watch. I was telling 3rd Mate Kyle that I was wanting to see a
water spout, when I decided to take a stroll out on the starboard bridge
wing. I thought to look behind the ship, and, lo and behold, I noticed a
bit of a cloud forming a point from underneath the larger mass. Sure
enough, as a few minutes went by, it grew larger and more pointed.
Eventually, it formed into a funnel, though not reaching fully to the water.
Still, from what I've seen in the past, the funnel doesn't have to clearly
touch water to actually start drawing water upward. What you can see, if
you're close enough, is a swirling on the ocean's surface where water is
getting lifted up. The distance from the water can be several hundred feet
from the tip of the funnel for this to happen. Nonetheless, I'm still
waiting for a full touch-down. When that happens, I hope to have my camera
on the ready. I figure next trip should provide some camera opportunities.

Well, that's about it for now. There's less than a week from New York and
less than two months before I return home after that. I can't wait to be
home again! Though it will be late November and the beginning of winter
weather, I'll be happy nonetheless. It'll be the life of cooking dinner for
Margaret, hanging out with the cats and chickens, and going out fly fishing
again.

Sri Lanka Again, Death by Slow Connection Speed, and International Phone Calls

2009-09-06T07:16:00.000-07:00

Once again, I'm defeated by slow Internet connection speed. I was hoping to post pictures of some cool street art I saw in Singapore. I guess that will have to wait until I get to the Seafarers Center in Charleston. When I was wandering down that street, the graphics I saw looked strangely familiar. I think I might have seen them posted at either the Wooster Collective website or at Boingboing.net. If you haven't checked out these website, I have to strongly recommend them. Some good eye and brain candy to be found.

Right now, I'm killing time at the Flying Angel Seaman's Club. In about fifteen minutes, I'll be heading out to the hotel next door for something to eat. I've heard that the food is good, so that should be interesting. My experience with Sri Lankan cuisine has been limited to a platter of spicy shrimp I had here at the Seaman's Club. It was very good, so my hopes are up for some good grinds. After that, I'll be heading back to the ship for some quality phone time with Margaret. We killed a couple of hours when I was back in Singapore. It's always nice to chat with her and get connected again.

Speaking of calling home from overseas, it is so important to have an unlocked SIM card phone. When travelling from port to port, one can obtain local SIM cards to insert into a 3G phone to make calls home. If you can get a local international calling card, the price of calling home gets reduced dramatically. A $20 top-off card and a $10 calling card can get you as much as 10 hours of talk time from Singapore. Of course, calls get dropped and connection fees can rob you of minutes. Still, even if you get half the talk time, you're doing very well.

Another option is something I've heard about but haven't yet fully investigated. It's MaxRoam.com. They provide an international SIM card that supposed to be cheaper than ATT and T Mobile when roaming overseas. Additionally, you can get the area code of your choice assigned with your number. That's a nice thing for the people back home calling you.

The one combination that they can't beat is using a local SIM card with a local international calling card. I just visited their website and used their rates calculator, and saw that a local call in Singapore is about $0.24/minute, while a call to the United States is $0.86/minute. This is pretty good; however, the above cited Singtel top-off card and the Sunshine calling card will give you something like a $0.02/minute rate (that's if connection fees reduce your talk time to 7 hours). There's your comparison shopping done for you. Nonetheless, if you can't get an international calling card where you live, the MaxRoam option seems a good one.

Gotta go. It's time to eat.

Ciao!
--Dave

The Ship's Server is Back Online, Jack Tar in Kafka's "Trial", "Payboys" in Singapore, and A Meditation on Prostitution.

2009-09-04T12:48:00.000-07:00

Thursday, September 03, 2009
Well, it has been somewhat like a vacation with the ship's server being down for over a month. I say that because I ended up using my writing time for sleep and reading books given to me by Margaret. I finished two books since I received my new glasses and have started a third--but more on that in a later post (if I remember to).

I must have mentioned this before, but I do work 12 hours a day and seven days a week, when the ship is out at sea. On occasion, I will pass on 4 hours of overtime, but that happens only when fatigue has left my body feeling near ill. Why do I do this? Well, if it wasn't for the overtime, this job wouldn't pay enough. Clear and simple. You might ask why I don't find a job that pays the same without all the additional hours. Well, how many jobs allow you four or five months off a year? People often forget that time is money when operating within a capitalist economy. So, more OT I make, more time I can spend at home. It's as easy as that.

First of all, an update on Jack Tar in Jebel Ali is required. I heard tonight that his story was covered by CNN. The latest word is that he was brought to trial, but a translator wasn't available. Down with the gavel and trial delayed for another two months. I have to say that it's unbelievable how this has gone on for so long. Of course, such would be unheard of in the United States; however, with such shenanigans, it would appear that the local authorities seized this opportunity to harass him. As I said before, his only crime was to get upset because the Immigration officials were acting like unprofessional jerks. True, there might have been new requirements for photo identification, but the way they handled the matter was clearly gauged to frustrate and infuriate. Their motivation was clearly to wield the power of a petty bureaucrat over those with less power than themselves. Sadly, he played into their hands.

Anyway, the ship left Singapore this morning. The two nights spent there was well received by the crew. The one crimp on the fun was that the ship docked on Tuesday sometime around 9:00 pm. That didn't leave the "Payboys" ((not "Playboys," if you know what I mean...) much time to make it ashore tto Peoples Park. Of the ones who made it there before the girls gravitated to Orchard Towers (this generally occurring around 10:30 pm, they arrived in such a harried state, two reported experiencing degrees of erectile dysfunction. The phrase, "Haste makes waste," comes to mind here. Actually, it probably had more to do with a work long day, high heat and high temperature.

The following morning, and through the afternoon, was somewhat of a cluster fuck. Bunker barge, stores, and engine parts all competed for the Deck Department's time. For some reason, none of these arrived at 8:00 am, when the work day started. Worst of all, the food stores and the engine parts showed up late in the morning and just before a cargo crane shifted to hatch #6, effectively blocking off the delivery trucks from our stores crane. Though it is possible for a truck to squeeze in between the crane and the edge of the dock, this is strictly not allowed by the port. The ship's agent did manage to hold off the return of the cargo crane, when it took an hour to work another hatch. Unfortunately, it came back during a momentary lull between crane lifts. This resulted in a several hour delay in the loading of the engine parts.

Now, there is a side to these unfortunate series of delays which ties together both of the previous paragraphs. You see, the postponement of stores was detaining the Deck Gang well into the afternoon. Had the
deliveries appeared first thing in the morning, we would most likely have been done by noon or shortly after that. As it was, I believe the lifts were completed late in the afternoon or not long after dinner (I was cut loose at 3:00 pm, since all hands were not needed for the last of the lifts). The twist to this story is that the Payboys, having been disappointed by their performances the night before, were on a mission for redemption. To them, the whole day sat as torment, leaving them kicking the stall and chomping at the bit. And it didn't help that the powers that be failed to schedule deliveries to the ship in a smart manner.

What's this? Do I sense some scorn towards the Payboys for their catering to the ladies of Peoples Park? Nay, I must protest! What many do not know or realize is that these hard-working guys are in their 60's. They are men who, to paraphrase Dylan Thomas, "do not go gentle into that good night. They rage, rage against the dying of the light." Some may view them as cads, but none can deny their verve. By the way, their second night did find redemption.

While I do not condone the whole business of prostitution, I certainly will not sit in judgment against it. It is because there is one aspect that I suspect many of those who condemn it fail to consider. It is that of the
human need for intimacy. And, when I say "intimacy," I'm encompassing the aspects of the emotional, the psychological, the physical, and, perhaps, the spiritual. Sure, one can validly suggest that johns should instead cultivate a normal, healthy relationship with a woman. There is also the matter of many a prostitute having a history of sexual abuse, thus experiencing a destruction of intimacy and the subsequent rationalization of "might as well sell it." Unfortunately, since I am neither a woman nor one who experienced sexual abuse, I feel I am not in a position to speak to how a woman might uniquely experience damage to her capacity for intimacy. However, in the midst of all this loss, there still remains desire.

But what is the shape of desire in a world where life, let alone intimacy, has been mediated by monetary exchange? Consider this: The average unlicensed sailor spends the majority of his year, and, by retirement, the majority of his life at sea. For that time, he is lives among men. If he is heterosexual, he is lives removed from women or the experience of life with women. While ashore, he might or might not find the opportunity to cultivate a relationship with a woman. Depending on his prior level of emotional maturity around women, he might find himself in a strong relationship. Otherwise, the day he retires, his wife might just greet him
on that day by dumping a pot of boiling water on him. Nonetheless, he will spend the better part of the year away from her. If he is homosexual, more often than not he will find himself among only heterosexuals who are not interested in his desires.

In all cases, the seafarer is at a disadvantage when it comes to fulfilling his need for intimacy when the rest of his emotional life is as a cog in the vast machine of global commerce. In the meantime, he feels his life force, his verve, ebbing away as more than half of every year he lives passes by estranged from human touch. So this begs the question: In the face of an inherently emotionally alienating lifestyle, how might he find a means of experiencing some kind, any kind of intimacy? When those who live in a world where half of all marriages end in divorce feel fit to sit in judgment, who is right and who is wrong when it comes to how a human being seeks out intimacy in what ever form it might take?

In the face of all this, I think it useful to consider the possibility of the union of a particular set of desires. When a man in need of experiencing intimacy contracts with a woman seeking to salvage her sexual
dignity, what might be the interaction? While one can preempt with the suggestion of a mutually enabling relationship, I would counter that this position is potentially nihilistic. This assumes that any contractual
relationship will be bereft of transcendence. I must protest and insist that this is not necessary. At the least, when both parties are aware of their desires, certainly the possibility of redemption exists against the
loss that both have experienced. Even if the relationship is an imagined fantasy, in that realm of the imagination redemption is acted out. Therefore a therapeutic value does exist. Is there not the element of an acting out upon a theater stage when a client talks out his or her anxieties with a psychotherapist? For that reason, I have to hesitate to judge.

Fun at the Jebel Ali Seafarer's Club

2009-09-02T06:11:00.000-07:00

I really love these people! Their hearts are so pure--and it shows in their performance. 100% corazon! I would introduce the name of the song, but I would rather have it as a reward for those who choose to watch this video. Towards the end of the night, they allowed some of the people in the audience--some fortified with drink and others less so--to come on stage and perform a favorite song. Sorry no videos of full performances, as the file size would exceed the limits set by the Blog Gods. Enjoy!

Scenes from the Suez Canal

2009-09-02T05:45:00.000-07:00

This is a Suez Canal line boat. Every ship must hoist to the rail one of these boats prior to entering the canal. Should a ship lose power or steering, this boat will take a ship's lines to shore, where the ship can moor up. If a ship chooses not to take aboard a line boat, the other option is a tug escort--the pricier option.

This is one of the Suez Canal pilots. I took this picture from last voyage. That's Captain Diederiks staring out the window in he background. Unfortunately, I neglected to get this pilot's name. He was one of our northbound pilots. I printed out this picture for him, and he was very pleased.

This picture also came from last voyage. This is Captain El Rafey. I mentioned him in a previous post. He was our southbound pilot and the one who filled me in on Egyptian's national football/soccer team.

This is a typical fishing boat found in Bitter Lake, the anchorage for the southbound ships transiting the Suez Canal. As you can see, the fishermen both sail and row these boats. The sail is interesting, as it is a traditional lateen(?) rig for these parts. Sadly, I've also seen boats that had to stoop to a blue tarp for a sail. Yes, those very same blue tarps that you can buy in any store at home. I would have posted a picture of one of these boats, but it was too sad for even myself.

This mosque is located at Port Suez, the southern end of the Canal. I really love the lines of this structure. I probably should have loaded up the full-sized picture, so people could really take in the details.

And Now For Something Completely Different... Chickens!

2009-08-02T21:00:00.000-07:00

Because all this ship-related stuff can be boorish for me at times, here's something completely different. Say hello to the hens. As you can see, Penny loves the camera.

Ciao!

--Dave

Singapore Videos!!!

2009-08-02T20:30:00.000-07:00

This is what the Singapore container port looks like from the bridge deck of the Truman. Lots of ships!

More Singapore Pics

2009-08-02T20:24:00.000-07:00

Here's an oddly worded sign from inside of Coho Fishing Tackle. It comes from Japan. Despite all that, the gist is rather pleasant.

The following two pictures are of my favorite place to eat in Singapore. It is Blu Jazz. As I posted before, their Nasi goreng and Mee Goreng are out of this world!

Scenes from Singapore

2009-08-02T19:48:00.000-07:00

This is the yard oiler that provided the Truman with fuel. You don't see these kinds of little ships anymore in the United States, because the Coast Guard passed regulations on minimum ship staffing. This was done for safety reasons. Unfortunately, the response was to dump these ships in exchange for tugs and barges. Tugs require fewer sailors, but the demands for safe transfer of vessel fuel remains the same.

This is a piston cylinder liner. It had been swapped out for a new one and is going ashore to be either cleaned up or scrapped. The Truman is in the middle of a cylinder liner exchange because of overheating issues. The high temperatures have limited our speed, thus affecting the timey delivery of cargo.

This is a view down the dock as the Truman was maneuvering for its berth. Lots of cranes at Brani Island. Singapore is one of the largest trans-shipment ports in the world. Containers from smaller ports in the region collect here before getting farmed out to ships heading to other parts of the world. It's analogous to how airlines utilize hub cities to redistribute passengers to other cities.

I believe this is the largest ferris wheel in the world. It used to rotate opposite from the direction it now does. Apparently, Feng Shui masters informed the city that it was causing the city's wealth to go away. Of course, that was enough reason to change the wheel's direction.

This is one of my favorite spots to visit in Singapore. As you can see, it is a tackle shop. However, it is also the only fly fishing shop in town. I managed to make friends with Michael Booey, the owner. Unfortunately for me, he was away in China, looking for some business opportunities--as well as fishing ones.

Back on the East Coast: Another Salting, Passage of a Sailor, an d a Jack Tar Update

2009-08-02T08:27:00.000-07:00

The ship is back on the East Coast. I was wrong about thinking that there
would be no more "saltings." The morning after the ship arrived in New
York, the Reeferman discovered salt on his chair. He immediately accused
Day Junior Engineer, Rocky Balboa of the "crime. Rocky is a well-liked, and
very nice and mellow Filipino and is also the smallest guy on the ship.
Little Rocky Balboa. It was very obvious that Reeferman Brian had no idea
who was actually behind the deed, but when he started making threatening
statements toward Rocky, Danny, an AB and a fellow Filipino, jumped in to
defend Rocky. Fortunately, never escalated beyond this.

The thing is, though I can't prove it, I still think Cecilio salted Brian's
chair just before he left the ship, the night before, to end his time
aboard. Nothing like a free-shot from the foul line. And all through this,
Brian never reflected upon who actually might have cause enough to
antagonize him. It goes to show how some people are oblivious as to how
their behavior affects others.

A tragic note: An AB I sailed with before, on other ships, recently passed
away. Phil Fritts was taken down by a stroke, shortly after he ended his
tour aboard the President Polk. It was severe enough that his prospects
looked poor from the start. I believe he was in his late 50's. Phil was
somewhat an odd duck, but he was also a decent person. My prayers go with
him.

Well, the ship is on its way to Charleston. We are supposed to pick up the
pilot around 2000 tonight. It's going to be a late one at the dock. I just
hope to have enough time to hit Whole Foods before we leave on Monday. My
fingers are crossed for those Garden of Eatin' Red Hot Blues blue corn
chips.

Ciao!
--Dave

Black Salt & Upping the Ante

2009-07-27T20:05:00.000-07:00

My sister, Karen, just sent me an email elaborating on the use of salt in
ritual. Below is the text of her message. The fact that she mentions
"black salt" is profound, as I neglected to mention the presence of the same
at the Reeferman's place in the mess hall. The black salt showed up a day
or so after the white salt first appeared. This does nothing less than
confirm an attempt at black magic. Wild shit, no?

Here's Karen's lowdown:

"The salt thing intrigued me--as you know, I have a decades-old interest in
things mythical, spiritual, and religious, and a bell rang in the back of my
mind regarding salt rituals or cures. You are quite right that salt as
defense against evil is a pretty universal thing, from Catholic baptism
(salt on the lips of the baptized child will bring wisdom to the child),
exorcism (apparently demons hate salt, and it's used in vampire prevention),
and weddings (Christian and Jewish weddings, where salt exchanged between
partners indicates an honest and binding contract) to Shinto purification
rituals.

"It's also used in Santeria--a blend of Catholicism and Voudoo--sprinkled in the footsteps (or where he or she has stood or sat) of a person who is
annoying you to make them go away. Black salt (a combination of ash and
salt, or salt and pepper) is what's usually used, but regular salt will do.
Also, throwing salt after or behind a person who has threatened you is a way
of keeping them away from you and your premises.

"So if your cook felt threatened by the Reeferman, it would totally make sense that he would do this if he at all had any association with Santeria as a practitioner or even just had a cultural association. First there's the easy availability of salt in the kitchen, and second, if his native culture/land had any Santeria or even old Catholic traditions, it would fit.

"I'm with you--I would very much prefer someone leaving salt in a
threatening person's footsteps or seat as a way to ward them off than
violence. Of course, the strength of the ritual is in proportion to the
strength of the practitioner's will and anger, and the addition of pepper
supposedly makes the ritual even more fiery and potent (typical "rule of
similars" effect). I would think that if pepper was used then or
afterwards, the person using the ritual was angry indeed. The problem with
infusing anger into such a ritual involving pepper is that it can spread
beyond the intended harasser to innocent bystanders, especially if it's a
very strong pepper, and very strong anger. Best to just keep to salt, as a
pure ward against evil and annoyance.

"So there is my wealth of knowledge regarding the use of salt (and pepper) in rituals. :-)

"There probably is some kind of scientific basis behind the universal use of salt as a ritual purifier, such as salt air giving off negative ions, which not only has a calming effect on people, but actually does purify the air and reduces airborne bacteria."

So there you have it: Black salt. I still hesitate to confirm this to the victim--least he turn violent or get locked up as a nut. However, I think the cook is upping the ante. Just this morning, a can of Slim Fast was discovered at Reeferman Brian's seat. Now I'm wondering what my sister will have to say about that.

Ciao!
--Dave

Go Do The Voodoo That You Do So Well

2009-07-25T05:37:00.000-07:00

Friday, July 24, 2009
6:23 PM
Whoa! Stop the presses! We have strange developments here. Someone has
been putting salt on the refrigeration engineer's seat in the mess hall.
Apparently, this was discovered a few days ago by Rocky Balboa, the Day
Junior engineer, and has been happening everyday since. I found out today,
because Bosun Norm asked me if I was the one who was doing it. Of course,
it wasn't me. However, I suspect it might be the cook.
You see, a couple of weeks ago, the cook had an altercation with Reeferman
Brian. This was stupid, because it started when Cecilio plated some food
and handed it over behind himself, to his right, to get across the steam
table. Well, Brian had moved from that spot over to the salad bar, which
was to the left of Cecilio and where he couldn't see Brian. That was when
it started. Brian then said, "I'm over here. What? Are you stupid or
something?" From there, Brian continued berating Cecilio, even challenging
him to "take it outside." Since I was there, I thought it prudent to say,
"Take it easy, gentlemen" a couple of times over. As far as getting between
them, well, that could also give one of them some kind of added motivation
to up the ante. I've seen that kind of bullshit before, so I know enough to
keep my bodily parts separate from the action. However, should fists come
up, it would then be time to jump in. Actually, that isn't true. It would
be better to let a few blows get thrown, so that both the bums would get
fired. If a knife came out, well, that would be a different story.
Anyway, given all that, I got to wondering if the salt could be some kind of
voodoo-type gesture. I know that salt is used in many cultures to ward off
evil spirits. In Japan, sumo wrestlers toss a handful of salt to purify the
ring before entering. Perhaps in Caribbean Santeria it could have a similar
role in magic ritual. Since the cook is from Puerto Rico and the only
person who could be holding a grudge against Brian, I felt it a safe bet
that he had to be the one. When I proposed this to the Deck Gang, boy, did
the guys light up with excitement! I guess I really must have made their
day with that idea. You see, the whole Caribbean voodoo grudge thing made
perfect sense. That's why they sailors loved it so much: A perfect sea
story in the making! Now I can't help but wonder if someone is going to
break the news to Reeferman Brian. Awesome! I only say that because I'd
rather have someone try black magic than pull a knife.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Other Events and Updates
A couple of days ago, Bosun Norm encountered a mystery liquid out on deck.
He made the mistake of touching and smelling it in an attempt to identify
it. The result was burning in the sinuses and lungs, as well as skin
irritation. In an attempt to wash it off, the substance spread to his face.
Redness and swelling ensued. Since the ship didn't have any means of
identifying the possible culpret, beyond a HAZMAT category listing, it must
have been at least three days before the company was able to provide an
answer. It turned out the liquid was pepper spray. Too bad Norm doesn't do
hot sauce on a regular basis. But seriously, it's a good thing it was no
more than that. The sailors will be taking precautions as we washdown the
decks today.
By the way, we cleared the Strait of Gibralter this morning. Too bad it
happened before my watch. Considering the westbound side of the voyage puts
us closer to The Rock, it would have been a great for a photo opportunity.
Maybe next trip?
Ciao!
--Dave

Gulf of Aden, The Red Sea, Thoughts on Global Shipping, The Suez Canal, and Into the Med.

2009-07-24T16:51:00.000-07:00

Saturday, July 18, 2009
5:26 PM
The Truman is back in the Red Sea again. The ship has been in lockdown with
all the newly installed gates and latches securing all means of ingress to
the ship's vital areas. This time around, it would seem that the sea state
was too rough for the pirates: No radio traffic declaring an attack, nor
any telex messages to the same. We did see some small boats just inside the
straits at Bab el Mandeb, but they looked to be mere fishermen and not
pirates.

We are currently running at least a day behind schedule, due to high seas
and engine temperature issues. If we fail to make Port Suez by 1800
tomorrow, despite the company offering to pay extra to the Canal Authority
to allow us to arrive at that hour and join the convoy, we can expect to
have to wait until the following day to make the passage. That will cause
us to arrive at Staten Island two day late. How we will manage to make up
for that lost time is a little beyond me. There was talk of Savannah,
Georgia getting dropped from the schedule, but it's currently back on. At
this point, I'm wondering if it might get erased just the same. The funny
thing is that we did omit Salalah, Oman for this voyage, and we still
managed to fall behind schedule. Oh well.

Sunday, July 19, 2009
12:28 PM
Another hot, Red Sea day in the 90's with high humidity. Like I'm looking
forward to working this afternoon.

A note about the global recession and shipping.
Aboard the Truman, we receive news via three email sources: The New York
Times Digest, ChartCo International, and News Link. The first one comes
courtesy of Captain Carubia, who lives in New York City. The latter two are
based out of the UK and are publications from the maritime industry. The
last one, News Link, also carries marine industry and safety topics.

Recently, I found one industry-related article touching on the global
recession and shipping. Currently, the amount of cargo moving has
increased, indicating a slow recovery is occurring. However, there is still
a surplus of ship tonnage (the way ship numbers is gauged), thereby
suppressing what the shipping companies can charge for moving cargo, and,
therefore, diminishing profit margins.

So the companies have this industry conference. A representative from
Maersk-Sealand explains to the crowd that profits are down, despite the slow
upswing in cargo, because the companies keep throwing more ships whenever
there is a small up-tick. What they need to do, he further elaborated, is
to retire old ships, to bring down worldwide tonnage. That would accomplish
two things: One, it would drive up the demand for ships; and, two, it would
leave newer ships sailing, which would provide seafarers with safer ships.
Unfortunately, the response he received was less than enthusiastic. Perhaps
that was because Maersk-Sealand is the largest shipping company in the world
and remains in the best position to pursue the above said strategy. No
surprise he was received with skepticism.

Another way to view this situation would be to compare the scarcity of cargo
among the excess number of ships to a pond full of fish. There is a limited
amount of food available in the pond. Meanwhile, there is this one very big
fish and lots of smaller fish. The big fish managed to get to its size by
successfully competing for bugs, after which it then proceeded to gobble up
small fish. Still, there are lots of smaller fish hiding in the niches in
the pond and picking off the bugs the large fish still needs to eat for
survival during the lean months. So, feeling a seasonal crunch in the
available food supply, the big fish starts preaching to the little fish that
they need to cull their numbers so there will be enough food for everyone.
Of course, the small fish know how that big fish got to be as big as he is,
and they don't buy the program. Meanwhile, the big fish gets thin and snaky
and the little fish get stunted, never growing as large as the big fish. In
other words, it would seem that, unless the global economy surges, shipping
companies could find themselves locked in a financial downward spiral
towards insolvency. At the end of that mess, the world could face a "last
man standing" scenario similar to the financial crisis, with J.P.
Morgan-Chase and Goldman Sachs swallowing up lesser rivals. In the case of
the shipping industry, a monopoly--or at least a cabal--could easily raise
shipping rates at a whim, creating inflationary pressure on imported
consumer goods,

Tuesday, July 21, 2009
6:45 AM

Port Suez
The Truman arrived at the Port Suez anchorage last night at the start of my
watch. I spent my four hours roaming the deck and assisting with receiving
various officials who require their various forms filled out and their
standard form of baksheesh: Marlboro "reds" cigs. Around 2145, we took
alongside a slops barge, so we could get rid of all the dirty oils the ship
generated. I think I heard that over 60 tons was pumped over.

At this point in time, I just woke up. The ship is already underway through
the Canal. From my window, all I can see are the sandy berms of the Sinai
side. If I were standing higher on the ship, I would only see more sand and
perhaps the various military camps stationed to look over canal security.

5:53 PM
Dinner over, and it's time to take a nap before watch. As usual, the
helmsman needs an hourly break from steering the ship "in hand." So, after
my morning 8 to 12 watch, I had wheel relief duties until 1600. That last
hour sure was raggedy. Fortunately, the pilot for the last half of the
canal spared me the 1 degree course changes and asked me to keep the ship in
the middle of the channel. For some reason, it's easier to stay alert doing
that than niggling over single degree course changes.

After my first hour on the 12 to 4 watch, I asked the pilot if he would let
me take a picture of him. He agreed, but afterwards asked me if I could
print out the picture. It took me a while to transfer the file to my thumb
drive, so I could take it to a computer with a printer. Though the image
was printed on stock paper, it came out well enough to please him.

Friday, July 24, 2009
12:26 AM
A couple of days went by with no descriptions of the Canal transit. Sorry,
Gang. To write when you work twelve hours a day is no mean thing. I'm half
tempted to bag this and just head to bed. Unfortunately, there are so many
things I want to write about. If my head were clearer, I think I would give
it a go--but not tonight. I'll post the latest pictures of the Suez Canal
(EEK! The horror... The horror...) when the ship reaches Charleston.

3:04 PM
The ship is already off of the Algerian coast. This morning, the radar
picked up what looked like a giant wall reaching many miles across the bow.
The Third Mate and I puzzled over what it might be: Fog, a sandstorm, or a
strong tidal rip? As we approached this wall, it became apparent that it
was a swath of smog. Given the wind direction, it had to be coming from the
city of Algiers. The first time I saw anything like this, it was when I
sailed to Kaiohsiung, Taiwan, back in 2003. The APL Thailand was
approaching Kaiohsiung from the east, and I initially mistook that swath on
the horizon for a fog bank. I was soon corrected. I was flabbergasted at
the density. Prior to entering the smog, I could see the green hill of the
southern point of the island. Once in, visibility dropped to only a few
miles. Though this Algerian smog wasn't that bad, it was nonetheless
shocking to see. It wasn't until we passed through that the origin of the
smog was apparent. One of the plagues of developing economies.

Yesterday, while steaming through the Straits of Sicily, the ship sailed
what was clearly a fog bank. There was no mistaking the white wall reaching
as far as the eye could see. What made it so striking was that it was no
higher than the top of the ship. Had I been on the bridge, there was a good
chance I could see over the top. I've heard stories of the fog in San
Francisco rolling in a low blanket where the bow lookout can't see a thing
but the bridge crew can see only the superstructure of the ships in the bay.
Since I was tending line for Danny and Greg on a scaffolding hung over the
side of the house, I wasn't able to run to the bridge to take a look, let
alone to grab my camera. Bummer.

One thing, though: The fog didn't last but no more than a half hour. As
soon as it cleared, I saw a pod of dolphin peel off from the ship. Their
sleek gray bodies were visible under the blue waves, as they powered along
after each leap. What startled me was that I briefly saw a white silhouette
among the gray ones. Because they were there and gone within a few seconds,
I didn't get a second look at that aberration. I'm still mystified: I
don't know of any species of marine mammal that is white and exists within
the Mediterranean Ocean.

--Dave E.

Colombo, Sri Lanka

2009-07-16T13:21:00.000-07:00

Monday, July 13, 2009
12:25 PM

Colombo, Sri Lanka
Ship sailing delayed 7 hours. Initially, the cause was due to cargo not
being finished. When I went to bed last night, I fully expected to be
called out for undocking around 5:30. When I woke at 7:00, I was surprised
to see light sneaking in past my window curtains. That was my first
indication that there was a delay. Over breakfast, Bosun Norm informed me
that we were looking at sometime around 10:30. By coffee time, it became
11:30 and an early lunch. By 11:00, departure became: "The port is
supposed to call the Captain at 11:30, to let him know when we're really
getting out of here." Noon was the call for all hands at 12:30. By around
13:00, we were underway.

Things about Colombo: Ports of the World, The Estrangement of Sailors, and
The Raging Hornys
First of all, I have to admit that I haven't seen that much of Colombo.
Since it is the capital of Sri Lanka, I can only imagine there being parts
far nicer than the sections around the port. As a matter of fact, it is a
rare thing for ports around the world to be even remotely called a good
section of a city. Seattle, my home, can be said to be a notable exception,
where Pioneer Square, Delridge, and West Seattle border the port. In
Colombo, all I've seen are dirt sidewalks, roll-down metal doors sealing
business fronts after hours, military check points, cab drivers offering you
rides while doing their best to bilk you, pariah dogs fucking in the
streets, and everyone trying to score a handout from you.

Of course, that's a rather coarse and simplistic description, but it's also
not that far from the truth--but only within the area immediately
surrounding the port. From the bridge of my ship, I could see what seemed
like nice apartments stacked on lush hillocks, and distant high-rise hotels
near beaches. Through binoculars, these places seemed clean, well kept, and
inviting. Over one hill, I could see what looked like a set of playfield
lights, perhaps for a soccer stadium.

By now I suspect some might be able to detect that the modern sailor
experiences a degree of estrangement with the places he visits: There is
often so little time available for shore leave that only the seedier sides
of town are all that is seen. Additionally, many cab drivers receive
kick-backs for delivering you to preferred places of business that often are
not to your own advantage. Then again, it can be argued that the seedy
district exists because of the immediate demands of those who frequent the
port. So here one sees the essence of estrangement: The object of desire
resides at a distance, while the interstitial zone is filled with a
dysfunction that inhibits or prevents the passage through.

Speaking of the seedier side of life, one of the crew confessed to me of
having, what I now call, a "Jack Tar" moment. In a fit of "the raging
hornys," he visited a Sri Lankan whorehouse. It was so dark and dank, he
hit the shower the moment he returned to the ship. Ah, well... I suppose,
the next time around, he will either visit Rosie Palm and Her Five Sisters
or demand a better referral from the cab driver. All I can say is, "But for
the grace of God, there go I." Yes, yes, I know there are some of you
waving the flag of STD's, but one should never underestimate the biological
desperation that comes from being stuck on a ship for months at a time while
in the absence of the mediating factor of everyday home society. True
transcendence is a formidable attainment. Certainly Abraham Maslow would
agree. Like I said: "But for the grace of God, there go I."

Thursday, July 16, 2009
5:51 PM
What a rough ride! For the past two days, it has been rough outside. Wind
is up into the 40 knot range, and the seas has the ship laboring for what
speed it can manage. Many times we had to slow down because engine
cylinders were overheating. This is a tricky business: Too high the rpm's
in these conditions, the cylinder liners get too hot; too low the rpm's, the
turbochargers aren't turning and pushing enough air to keep the engine cool.
Additionally, the ship's rolling in the seas cause the pistons to lean too
hard to one side, and friction-induced heat accumulates. Should the
temperature get out of hand, the automatic controls will kick in and the
propulsion plant will power down. Tricky, indeed! At this point, we are at
least a day behind schedule for arriving at Staten Island, NY.

Back in Singapore, we took on material for welders to fabricate some
anti-piracy devices. In the time we were dockside, they built cage-doorways
to seal-off external stairways from the house and the stern from the rest of
the main deck. They also installed some barring devices to all the weather
deck doors. This afternoon, we locked down the ship in preparation of
entering the Gulf of Aden pirate waters. Sadly, it wouldn't take too much
imagination to get around most of these barriers. At best, these measures
would only slow down an ambitious pirate. It's amazing what the people in
the office can come up with. Nonetheless, with the weather being what it
is, I really doubt there will be any attacks in the near-future. Still, if
the ship cannot keep up speed well over 17 knots, Captain Diederiks might
seek out a military escorted convoy to join. Should that happen, we will
end up steaming around 10 knots or less. So much for making schedule.

11:48 PM
End of the watch. Seas have moderated, the ship's speed is back up, and
we're less than a day from the way point that points the ship into the Gulf
of Aden. It will be interesting to see what the day holds for work on deck
when everything is locked down.

Slug Bait Connection

2009-07-12T07:42:00.000-07:00

Sorry everyone. The connection I'm working with, here in Sri Lanka, is excrutiatingly slow. It takes nearly forever to upload anything. On top of that, I keep getting failure to connect messages when I try posting. I'm so very bummed that I can't post the pictures I took, from the Suez Canal, Jebel Ali, Singapore, and Sri Lanka. Anyway, I will do what I can when I reach the States. I tell you, when it takes over an hour for a video to fail to upload, you know you're in trouble. In the meantime, I will make it point to keep up with the text.

Take care, everybody!

Ciao!
--Dave

Suez Canal Transit

2009-07-12T05:27:00.000-07:00

This is the Egyptian Bazzar that appears whenever a ship sails through the Suez Canal. There's a line boat, which the ship has to crane up to the main deck, that supposed to haul mooring lines to shore in the even the ship loses power. The boat crew always brings crummy made-in-China tourist crap to sell to the crew. Check it out. I probably shouldn't be so harsh about their trying to suppliment their meager earnings, but I keep telling them to bring Um Kulthum CD's to sell--to no avail. All they need to do is to let people hear her singing, and they will want that piece of Egypt!

This is Captain El Rafey, the Suez Canal pilot. I mentioned him in my original Suez post. Fun guy with great sense of humor.

This is Port Suez, at the south end of the Canal. This mosque is spectacular! I wish I could have provided a closer shot. If I'm not mistaken, the dome is patterned with a mosaic.

Her's a video clip of half of Bitter Lake, where the southbound convoy of ships anchor up while waiting for the northbound ships to pass through.

I'm going to have to wait to post the videos of Bitter Lake. The upload was taking a ridiculous amount of time.

Singapore: Fly Fishing, Mee Goreng, etc

2009-07-12T05:15:00.000-07:00

Saturday, July 11, 2009
6:01 PM
Post-Singapore: Coho Fishing Tackle, Fly fishing and Blu Jazz Mee Goreng
Well, tomorrow afternoon we will be in Colombo, Sri Lanka. While in Singapore, I managed to do only a few things that I wanted to do over the single night I used to go ashore. My first evening was spent calling home on my SIM card cell phone: Talked to Margaret and then my mom. There was nothing but good news, so all is good on the home front. The hens are still happily laying eggs (The eggs taste best when you feed the hens Swiss chard!!!), and little Wanda Cat has been throwing down some serious feline-fu, terrorizing the other neighborhood kittens. I wonder if my playing paw-slap with her might have turned into a bad thing. Fern pretty much is still lazing about the house, sleeping on her favorite chair in the living room. Mom is in the middle of cataract eye surgery, which has been going very well.

My second evening was spent changing money at the Harborfront Center Mall and hopping a cab over to the Arab Street neighborhood to visit two of my favorite places in Singapore. Both are on Bali Lane, an alley and a street to the west of Arab Street. The first is Coho Fishing Tackle; Singapore’s only fly fishing shop. The second is Blu Jazz, located next door and my favorite place for Mee Goreng, a spicy noodle and seafood dish.

Let me explain my relationship to Mee Goreng. Back in the 80’s, I shared a house with a friend, Mark Borgers. There were around five of us in the house, and we all shared rotating cooking duties. One day, I made a big skillet of fried rice, which Mark called Nasi Goreng. Since I had never heard of such a thing, he explained that his mother used to make her own version of fried rice; however, he and his parents had spent a number of years living in Indonesia. Put simply, Nasi Goreng is the Malay version of fried rice.

It wasn’t until my first container ship job in 2003 that I finally sailed to Singapore on the APL Thailand. On my first day there, I naively walked from the docks to what was turned out to be across the city. By the time I arrived at Orchard Towers (Infamously known as the “Four Floors of Whores.” If anyone wants me to go “on assignment” then you better let me know soon. I have only two more opportunities to investigate this legend amongst the sailors, before I get off this ship. ), my hips, knees, and feet were in severe pain. It must have been around 5:00 or 6:00 PM when I left the Maritime House (one of several local nation-based seafarer’s support facilities) and around 9:00 PM when I arrived at the far-end of town. By then, all the energy I had was for getting something to eat and to head back to the ship (No, I wasn’t planning on soliciting. I was curious to see which of my shipmates I would see there. Besides, I was there too early to see anything interesting, and the scene was rather dull though noisy: I spend too much time around noisy machines to do noisy on my time off.). I ended up heading down stairs to the food court and discovered a place that served the noodle version of Nasi Goreng. Sadly, the flavors were muddied and the greasy spiciness super-charged the carbonation of the beer I had with the meal. I ended up feeling bloated, like someone shot me with a CO2 dart. As I climbed up the stairs up to the street level, belches were steaming past my teeth and cheeks with every step. Mlehh!

It might have been on a subsequent trip on the Thailand, or a few years later on the APL Korea, that I discovered Coho Fishing Tackle. To make a long story short, it took a little sleuthing with a phone book to find it. I’m always curious to see what kind of fishing tackle the rest of the world uses. Anyway, I ended up making friends with the owner of the shop, Michael Booey. Needless to say, I was very pleased that I found a tackle shop with a strong fly fishing emphasis.

By then, I had been to the shop a number of times, and, this time around, I brought my fly tying gear and made up some flies to give to Michael. So we’re hanging out and talking fish. Michael somehow gets a pitcher of beer brought to the shop from the restaurant next door. We’re drinking beer and talking shop. At some point, I tell him that I have to eat. He then tells me that the owner of the restaurant next door is a friend of his and that he’ll have a waiter come by to take my order. Like, what the fuck? So I tell him that I have a thing for rice and noodle dishes--it’s my Asian side speaking for my stomach. I propose a plate of Mee Goreng. This time around, it’s so unbelievably good! I mean, it’s this plate of dry-fried egg noodles (no soupy gravy), shrimp and squid, all in a bitchin’ spicy tamarind crusty-glaze. I think I might have whimpered when I finished the plate, because it was gone just before I reached total and complete heat and spice-induced euphoria. Bummer! And that is my only complaint about Blu Jazz, the place next door: For my appetite, I could use a 50% larger serving to meet my dining needs. When traveling as a foody, you often times eat for effect.

To say the least, a Singapore visit to Blu Jazz and their Mee Goreng is worth the effort. This time around, I had to have this dish again. On my previous visit, I had their Nasi Goreng, which was also very good; however, I strongly recommend the Mee Goreng. There’s something about the way they stir-fry the egg noodles that comes out with only a touch of sweetness, a slight savory bitterness from the tamarind, and the right amount of heat, to make the flavors all stand out in sharp relief--and it never disappoints. If I recall rightly, Michael Booey once told me the chefs were trained in Paris. Well, after eating at Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse, I have to say French and French-trained chefs kick-ass when cooking non-French--they really know how to bring together flavors without letting the flavors get lost in muddiness. Personally, I have no idea what a French-trained chef is doing working with a menu that also serves fish and chips. Still, if you want a taste of regional cooking done tight, you need to visit Blu Jazz.

Another thing about Blu Jazz: They also host live music in the evenings, after 9:30, on the second and third floors. Though I failed to drop in for that and cannot attest to the quality of the band(s), I would hope that the music matches the quality of the food.

So I suspect some of you are wondering why I didn’t catch the music. Well, it’s because I am enslaved to this blog and am subject to the bandwidth of the local Internet cafes. I must have spent at three hours editing out the stupid ship email-induced line breaks and uploading the few pictures I last posted. If you read this before I clean up the text, via the Internet nodes at the Flying Angel Club (another church-based seafarer’s support organization) in Colombo, then you might appreciate the work I’m doing to make your blog experience that much more pleasant.

It had to have been around 10:00 before I realized the time and squared things up so I could head back to the ship. By the time I made it through the port’s gate and security, I had missed a bus and was looking at a half-hour wait. Instead of waiting and wasting an extra 45 minutes to an hour, I hoofed it and arrived at the ship a little before 11:30 PM.

Sunday, July 12, 2009
11:41 AM
Offshore of Sri Lanka
The ship is offshore of Sri Lanka. Lucky me that I saved a minutes top-off card from the last time I was here. That allowed me a short call to Margaret. Nothing like a little phone bliss with the one you love. As soon as I finish lunch, this will get posted via email. Once I get ashore, I’ll head to the Flying Angel seafarer’s club to pick up where I left off in Singapore, with the uploading of pictures. I really hope I won’t find myself spending all my time there with blog duties. Colombo is a colorful place, and it would be nice to see more than just the inside of the club.

Ahh, crap! I just realized that I missed the latest email transmission time. You see, the ship transmits, via satellite link, email messages three times a day, at 0130, 0730, and 1830 hours GMT. Actually, the transmission starts 15 minutes prior to the times listed. These times are more a guideline for when to expect incoming email. If I miss the send time, as you can see, it will be either six, eleven, or seven hours before the next opportunity. Since there is no way I’ll be able to make the 0730 time, I might as well wait until I go ashore to post. All these little stinking details about life at sea…

More Pics: At Sea

2009-07-08T06:49:00.000-07:00

I'm running out of time ashore. It looks like I'm going to dump pics now and edit when we reach Sri Lanka. So here we go:

The Steward, Branden Maeda and the Steward Assistant (I have enough problems just understanding him...).

Me getting in touch with my inner penguin.

3rd Mate Wes Wilson. Good guy! We both love good coffee. See that cup? I brewed the joe. Wes is now under my command.

Greg is riding down in a Bosun's Chair. Gotta do some chipping of rust and then painting. Big fun!

Chief Mate Bill Westrum.

Well, that's going to have to be it for now. I'll try to post more pics when we arrive in Colombo. Till then!

Ciao!

--Dave

Photo Flood: Charleston to Norfolk

2009-07-08T04:54:00.000-07:00

Okay, here we go. I finally caught up with the space-time continuum, so it's time to post some photos I took. I have to apologize ahead of time for the lack of pics for certain places. More often than not, I'm unable to explore a location, due to the lack of time available to me.

Charleston, S.C.

This is the Seafarers Center at Charleston, South Carolina. It may not seem like much, but the people inside are providing a wonderful service to all shipboard personnel. My hat goes off to them.

This is the bridge crossing from Point Pleasant to Charleston proper. I have yet to visit town because of my time limitations. For some reason, this bridge reminds me of the Yokohama Bay Bridge. Sorry, but no pics of the Whole Foods I went to. I know that might be a let down to some, but, if you've been to one, it's highly unlikely you're going to get lost in a different one.

Savannah, Georgia:

This is the tug, Edward J. Moran. Moran is one of the main players throughout the East Coast tow boat scene. On the West Coast, people either think of Foss Tugs or Crowley. Moran tugboats are as ubiquitous.

Crap! I was going to upload a cool video of a container crane setting a cargo hatch back on the ship, while we were in Savannah. Unfortunately, it was 69MB too big. I'm going to have to do something about that.

This is the Savannah City Hall.

And next is the river front before City Hall. This section of the river is pretty much tourist-ville. Somewhere I heard that what now is for the tourists once was where slaves were brought for sale. Somehow or another, I just know there must be a common thread in there that's wet with irony.

Next is Ray Ramirez and Chuck Maringer. Chuck is one of the day-working AB's, and Ray is on the 12 to 4 watch.

View of my workstation:

This is the ship's helm. I think you can click the pic and get the huge version. Do note the devices on the console above the tiller wheel. You should be able to see the labels for what they are. And DO NOT laugh at the left and right labels on either side of the wheel. You'd be surprised at the number of people who initially have problems following a compass or who throw the rudder over in the wrong direction. If there is a cause for getting fired by the Captain, this is one of the big ones. Interestingly, a sailor can retain more of his dignity after getting fired for drinking than for not being able to steer.

The Dock at Norfolk, Virginia:

This vehicle with the container under it is called a "Strad." These are also used in Japan and are very efficient when it comes to obtaining and positioning boxes for loading aboard. I wouldn't be surprised when the Pacific Coast ports finally get them too. Then again, the number of jobs lost would be substantial. As I post more pictures of the other ports, note how this same job gets done, as well as the likely number of people involved in the task.

Checkout these cool hooded gulls. The one on the right is examining a piece of fried chicken some longshoreman tossed. What made these gulls doubly cool was their call.

Click the video and listen to them birds!

Here's Bosun Norm and 2nd Mate Joe Perry. During docking and undockings, the 2nd Mate supervises the bow operations, while the 3rd Mate does the stern. I'm still working on Wes Wilson's pic.

I can't say that this is such a great photo of the Truman, but it was the best I could manage up until that point.

Well, that covers the U.S. side of the water.

Ciao!
--Dave

Finally Caught Up: Jebel Ali, Jack Tar, and Straits of Malacca

2009-07-08T04:41:00.000-07:00

Monday, June 29, 2009
3:48 PM
Jebel Ali, United Arab Emirates
The deck gang is done with docking and some crane lifts. My room is uncomfortably warm, though not as hot as outside. Yes, the air conditioning is laboring after having gone down for a couple of hours last night. At least the humidity control is doing some good. The temperature in Jebel Ali has to be over 100 degrees. I’ve read the news digest we receive over email, and the temperature in Dubai has been 108 for the past few weeks. Since Dubai can be barely seen to the southeast through the haze of humidity, it has to be the same here. Around 2200 last night, it was 91 degrees and very humid. To step out on the bridge wings was like baking a loaf of bread and opening the oven. Oddly, the air smells like sandalwood.

Having read about trout and dissolved oxygen content in higher water temperatures, I have learned that heat-excited oxygen molecules in water bounce off of each other, creating greater space between them. Thus, warmer water is less oxygen-rich than colder water. I can really relate to heat-stressed trout in this manner. It’s as if the oxygen molecules in the air have spread themselves apart to the point I feel like I’m sucking on the space between them. What? Am I going to town? Screw that! Not in this heat. I plan on taking it easy and catching up on this pre-blog log.

5:17 PM
Sailors in Trouble
Before I go any further on the following subject, I need to say something. When I started this blog, I promised myself that I would not mention anything negative about any of my shipmates. Well, at this point, I have to moderate my promise a touch. What I will maintain is that I will not connect any names to any negative or potentially negative incident. Given the description of the incident at hand, I find it a bit too juicy to deny.

I need to start by saying these two words: Oh shit! Three of our guys got turned back at the Customs and Immigration checkpoint, while a fourth one made it through. They were looking to head to Dubai and ran afoul with the officials. The sailors were told their papers were wrong, that the digital picture attached to their shore passes was not adequate (despite being so in the past), and their seaman’s documents and passports were also not good. Two openly complained, raising issue. I think they told me they were instructed to wait. However, seeing that their documents wouldn’t get them out from the port, they returned to the ship.

As I was leaving the mess hall, after eating dinner, Chief Mate Bill collected the three sailors and told them the officials at the gate wanted them to return. Of course, the sailors thought it absurd bullshit. They then were informed that an apology was expected from them. Once again, the sailors thought it absurd bullshit. Apparently, the Immigration officials claimed the sailors (or, at least one of them) slandered the host country. The last thing I heard was The Mate telling one of them the Captain wanted to see him. Who says shipping out is no longer an adventure? At 6:00 PM, a van will show up to take any interested sailor to the seaman’s club. I might just go, so that I’ll be able to hear the rest of what’s going to transpire. I know the boys will end up there. More later!

Tuesday, June 30, 2009
12:38 PM
Not much sleep this morning. After returning from the Seamen’s Centre, I had to assist with some crane lifts for the repairmen’s welding gear. The callout was at midnight for 12:30, and the job finished around 1:20. At 4:30, the deck gang was called out for undocking. I wasn’t done until a little after 7:00, when I was released to get some breakfast and clean up for my bridge watch. I’m taking the afternoon off from OT work to take in a long nap. Before that, here’s the rest of the story.

All but two of the guys showed up at the Seamen’s Centre last night. The one stayed aboard the ship after returning from Immigration and the other, who shall remain nameless, is in a United Arab Emirates jail. Apparently, when they were informed that an apology was due, one sailor didn’t wait for the rest and went solo to make nice. The Immigration officers asked him where the others were. He then explained that he immediately left on his own and that the others were waiting for the agent to drive them. When the remaining two arrived, they were questioned. One of them was asked where he is from, what is his country of origin, and he replied that he is a Filipino-American. He received an odd look. In the end, he was released. The last sailor, even before he left the ship, said that he would never apologize. Apparently, he stuck to his guns.

Now, from what I gathered, the incident seemed to have started when this last guy tossed his passport to the officials, instead of handing it to them. Then again, it might also have started when they were told their paperwork was not in order. However, as anyone who read Franz Kafka would know, there are few things more mysterious and terrifying as a bureaucracy. Perhaps one can compare the experience to being blindfolded and waking to the sensation of a train’s lurch. Before your groggy senses can determine whether that lurch was the train stopping or starting, it’s clear that this transition of movement is a sign of a coming unknown.

To this, I cannot but imagine the prideful standing in the face of that unknown. How might one choose to act? Will their first thoughts run to being brave and giving no quarter? Though I do not know who said, “Discretion is the better part of valor,” I’m fairly sure it was John Milton who spoke of “Pride before the fall” in Paradise Lost. Whether or not this man actually spoke ill towards the U.A.E. and, perhaps, broke a local law concerning expressing enmity against the state, surely prudence would dictate the sailor offer up the possibility of misperception of an emotional outburst. From there, one need only apologize for an inappropriate display of frustration. After all, is not patience a virtue?

And there you go: It is often difficult to determine if the leviathan of bureaucracy is swinging its tail out of malice or reflex. Given this indeterminacy and the power of petty bureaucrats, surely it is wise to act prudently by both assuming the lesser of the two impulses and avoiding danger. For being full of pride and lacking discretion, a sailor sits in a foreign jail.

As a final note, I have to a mention that sailors are possessed with a severe case of gallows humor. We are prone to thinking of the ghastliest possibility with a twist of black humor. Without being explicit, some of us have imagined the wayward sailor’s jail experience resembling that of Lawrence of Arabia’s treatment at the hands of Turkish captors. If the idea gets introduced with the question, “Do know what a Turkish Delight is?” then the possibility of humor becomes attainable. “Beware of the thick-fingered Abdullah!” Yes, yes, I know this isn’t P.C., but who ever said sailors ever were?

To be honest, this sailor is no saint. Then again, most of us aren’t either. Doubly again, there are some who are. That aside, this poor S.O.B. has the reputation of being his own worst enemy. Though I won’t tell the most infamous story of him (that could all together give away his identity to those who are skilled at gathering clues), I will tell of his battle with a toaster.

A Toaster Gets the Upper Hand
Back two years ago, when I was forced to head down to Los Angeles to find a ship, I had to settle on a fly-out to Singapore. The President Adams had been in the shipyard and needed a break-out crew. A handful of us sailors took the job, and our hapless friend was part of the group.

Though the President Adams is only one of a handful sister ships, I have to say there are a few minor difference that makes this ship stand apart from the rest. When you remove the factor of people, I’d have to say only one thing stands alone. That one thing is the toaster in the unlicensed mess hall. This unit, if I recall correctly, has two separate controls, versus the one darkness knob found on all toasters. I think the two on this one are for heat and time. When you push down the spring-loaded lever, you can hear the ticking of a timer. A deep and dark toasting will demand not only a long timer but also greater heat. Think of coping with a bagel or an English muffin. When toasting white bread or re-heating slices, low heat and a short timer are called for. In the latter case, one can hear the fast ticking of the shortened timer.

As a regular thing, I like to get up an hour before I have to turn to work, to allow myself as much time as possible to enjoy my breakfast. Often, I found myself as one of the first people in line for food. Our dear friend would also be there, too, getting his breakfast, usually first in line. Our man liked his white bread toast, too. During the first week aboard was when this conflict arose with the toaster. Unfortunately, that thing came with a learning curve.

Every day over that week, he would attempt toasting his white bread. Initially, his toast burned. “Motherfucking cocksucker!” he would shout (As if I enjoy hearing that noise while I’m still trying to wake up?), throwing down the charred bread into the closest garbage can. This happened maybe two or three more times. Next, he either reduced the heat or shortened the timer. The bread came out undercooked. He then pushed the lever back down. The toast burned again, having gone twice the length of cooking time. Again: “Motherfucking cocksucker!” Again: Two slices into the garbage. This happened at least two more times {“This” meaning the burnt toast and the cursing). Of course, he eventually got things straight, and his toast came out perfect--until another variable entered.

After our hero had attained toasting nirvana over a few days, things started going awry again. His toast was burning. It was Motherfucking-cocksucker-toast-hurled-into-the-garbage déjà vu all over again. This went on for another day before I realized what went wrong.

After some time at sea, the ship’s supply of whole grain bread ran out. I then started eating English muffins, instead of regular white bread or the faux wheat bread that was left to be had. As I mentioned before, I also arrived at the mess hall just as it opened for service. Since English muffins take more time to toast, I started toasting my bread before ordering my breakfast. My realization was that the new variable was my toasting my muffins before our hero had his turn. What burned the white bread was all the residual heat in the toaster from the muffins’ longer cooking time. Wow! I fucked him up: Right when he thought he had everything figured out, he was suddenly betrayed once again.

So what did I do about it? I decided to let the treatment continue for another day or two before stopping: I figured he needed to start adjusting the toaster before the problem ceased, thus adding a new layer of torment before things straightened out on their own. There’s nothing like a little stealth revenge for obnoxious behavior first thing in the morning. So you see what I mean when I say he is his own worst enemy. The man just brings it on himself.

Tuesday, July 07, 2009
4:05 PM
More Details on “Jack Tar”
Apparently, the guy, who is in custody, tossed his passport to the Immigration officials instead of handing it to them. It would seem that offended them. From there, everything went south. That was when they started jerking the sailors around. Still, it amazes me how often people fail to realize how important gestures are. Tossing a passport to an Immigration official can only be interpreted in a bad way--and is also poor judgment when that petty bureaucrat holds the keys to the gate you wish to pass through.

Oh, who is Jack Tar? It’s old British slang for a sailor. Go here to find more info: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Tar
I think I might as well use this name to refer to any wayward sailor involved in a story I have to tell.

In the Straits of Malacca and Approaching Singapore
Right now, the ship has resumed steaming after drifting for a couple of hours inside of the Straits of Malacca. The company finally gave us an update on the conditions at the dock. We were hoping to get in a little earlier than our 1800 (6:00 PM) pilot time; however, there is still a ship at the berth reserved for the Truman. Since it takes about an hour and a half from pilot to finished with lines, it will be close to 2000 by the time the gangway will be down. After that, a fuel barge will come alongside. For myself, I kind of see the rest of night shot down, as far as going to town is concerned. I expect to limit myself to a visit a convenience store at a local mall to buy a top-off card, to add call time to my cell phone, and get an international phone card to extend the minutes on my phone. This is the best way to call home from overseas, as one can turn call-time minutes into hours.

Suez Canal and the Red Sea

2009-07-05T09:23:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Anchored in Bitter Lake, Suez Canal

That was a very long night. We initially anchored a few miles north of the Suez Canal entrance to wait for enough ships to queue up for the passage. That happened around 3:00 in the afternoon. My evening watch begins at 8:00 pm, so I started it by patrolling the deck. We finally pulled the hook around 10:30, to assume our place 3rd in line, and I took my place at the helm a little before that. Just before Midnight, I was relieved at the helm by Ray. However, since we were steering in hand, and I was the helm standby man and had to relieve Ray every hour. So, an hour later, I was back on the wheel for an hour and had to return again for the last hour of Ray's watch. It was a little before 4:00 am when I was able to return to my room to finally take a shower and go to bed. At 7:00, I got up again to have breakfast and to assume my watch--having less than three hours of sleep. The ship arrived at Bitter Lake, the midway point for the southbound convoy, around 6:30 and was anchored up by 7:30. I'm glad I took the time to snag some sleep, instead of working overtime yesterday. Still, that last hour on the wheel was tough.

If you haven't figured it out by now, the southbound convoy has to pull over and anchor at Bitter Lake to allow the northbound ships to pass. Once they are clear, the southbound ships pull anchor and resume their passage south. The word is we will be on our way around 11:00 am. We should be clear of "The Ditch" and done with the pilots sometime between 4:00 and 6:00 pm. Once again, I will have to be Ray's back up, so I won't see any sleep until after 4:00 pm and before 7:15, when I will wake up and get ready for my evening watch again. Gotta love it...

12:32 PM The Truman is underway again. We're making slow headway out of Bitter Lake,
as we maneuver around the other ships anchored here. Now is my lunch hour and my helm standby for the 12 to 4 watch.

Our pilot for this southern leg of the transit is Captain Magdy El Rafey. He is very personable, very well humored, and of a cosmopolitan mind. It might have two weeks ago that the Egyptian football team beat Italy, 1-0. What a stupendous feat against the World Cup defenders! Of course, we chatted about the game. "They were in good athletic shape, healthy, and they were fighters!" said Captain El Rafey. Sadly for Team Egypt, the U.S. soccer team beat them the following week, 3-0. The U.S. advanced to play as the last of four teams standing, having won a tie by having a better scoring ratio, thus leaving Egypt behind. El Rafey noted Egypt's loss was because their skill was greatest in the air and not on the ground. Because the U.S. players are much taller than the Egyptians are, the latter's aerial ball handling became ineffective. Corner kicks and high passes were shut down.

3:51 PM
I just finished my last hour steering as backup helmsman for the 12 to 4 watch. Too bad I wasn't able to take pictures of Port Suez, as well as some of the buildings and the presidential (local governor's?) mansion at Ismailia. That building is quite elegant and worthy of a picture post.

Sunday, June 28, 2009
Too Hot for Golf and Pirates:

Last Friday was some nasty heat. The night before, the ship was leaving the Red Sea and entering the Gulf of Aden. That was when the heat really kicked in. Bosun Norm was the first person standing the pirate lookout on the stern, and he felt it first. By the next day, it had reached the level of pain. To add to it, we were laying on white paint to the ship's superstructure (aka, "the house'"). The paint reflected and further intensified the solar heat. I started my overtime work after the lunch hour, and I couldn't believe the sensation of the heat. I don't think it took even an hour before I started feeling all swoony. Norm didn't object when I suggested I get a cooler full of ice water.

By now, we've cleared the Gulf of Aden and the heart of the recognized piracy area. Arrival at Jebel Ali is currently slated for 1000 tomorrow. The high for Dubai is over 100 degrees. I suppose the only good thing one can say about the heat is that it must be too hot for even piracy. Yup, no reported activity. Surprise, surprise...

7:11 PM
Crap! I think the air conditioning went on the fritz. My room suddenly got real warm and humid. This is not good.

The Mediterranean and Passing Italy

2009-07-05T02:37:00.000-07:00

Saturday, June 20, 2009
1:49 AM
Entering the Mediterranean Ocean.
So we transited the Straits of Gibraltar Thursday night. Yes, yes, that was two nights ago. Technically, that was yesterday night. Don't forget: I'm writing when I get off of watch, so, though it's the next day, the reference point is actually the day before. In other words, that was only yesterday. Right? Welcome to the world of sailing through time zones.

We're in the Med. Too bad it isn't as glamorous as it seems. We're just passing through. As soon as we cleared Gibraltar, visibility closed in to a hair over a mile. We hate fog so much, we refer to it as the "F-word." Even 3rd Mate Wes called it low clouds. Nice euphemism.

Sunday, June 21, 2009
12:40 AM
The Straits of Sicily
At the end of watch, we cleared the Straits of Sicily. Twelve hours before, we were just starting in. During my lunch hour, I emailed my friend, Lisa Osse. She and her husband, Jim, are in Lerici, Italy. He works in La Spezia. They just moved there last month from Seattle for his job. Some people are so lucky!

It's so strange passing by them in this manner, knowing I have friends from home in this part of the world. This creates an odd intimacy, a lessening of abstraction, with this part of Europe. Though the nautical chart we use for these waters only shows the very southern belly of Sicily, my mind imagines what lies further to the north. Do visit their blog at ossesinitaly.blogspot.com. I'll be checking up on them when the ship reaches Singapore. I want to see more of the little harbor of Lerici! Here's a poem.

While Sailing Past Sicily
--for Jim and Lisa

The ship's engine thrums
With a heart pulse
As we steam
Into the western reach
Of the Strait of Sicily.
To the north is the rest of Italy.

From Gibraltar to Sicily,
The Mediterranean Ocean
Is not blue:
The air is something between
low clouds and fog.
The sea is gray.
Visibility barely more than a mile.

The roiling cloud tops
Seem just outside of reach,
But there is blue sky above.
The ridge tops of the Atlas Mountains
Break the airy meniscus to the south
Like the great toothed whale
Folding itself
Into a hunger-driven
Deep sounding,
Forehead pointed
Downward, listening
For the echoes of its own desire.

The nautical chart shows only
The southern belly of Sicily.
But I can't help but think
Of two friends,
Recently transplanted,
Far to the north in Lerici.

I imagine their small harbor,
The tiny sand-patch of a beach
Crowded with boats,
The sea reflecting a blue sky.

My friends will learn
From the fisher people
A simple art of leisure
That can't be found
Where we come from.

Their mornings will reveal
How the fishermen move
Through blue morning air,
Down the cobblestone streets,
Down to the harbor,
Hauling their boats down
To fish the Ligurian Sea.

Their afternoons will offer
The riddle of townspeople
Whiling away hours that lean
Into the setting sun, of a hand
Hooked inside an elbow,
And a head leaning into
The shoulder of a loved one.

And the evening piazzas
Will fill their ears with liquid
Voices rising like a tide,
Of friends chatting with friends,
Of families out for a late stroll,
Of silverware and wine glasses chiming
Through this polyphony of life.

And before it is all over,
They will find time
More valuable than money.
They will discover
That lovely space found
Inside a crowded piazza.
And they will hold the gift
That is blue sadness,
That is blue joy,
That is blue wonder.
That is blue awe.

(Written June 21 & 22, 2009)

Ciao, Peeps!
--Dave

Monkey Radio and Other Related Issues

2009-07-04T22:33:00.000-07:00

Friday, June 19, 2009
12:40 AM

Monkey Radio
Once again, back in my stateroom after watch. This morning (or was it last night?) was the beginning of "Monkey Radio." It usually starts about a day or two from Europe and continues through to the north end of the South China Sea. Either earlier this year or late last year, NPR had a brief piece on this phenomenon. It was part of a series on the Somalia pirates. Well, as a merchant seaman, I have to state that NPR failed to convey the reality. Monkey Radio actually is no more than racial slurs, over vessel radio, directed towards Philippine mariners.

First, I must offer some foreground this issue: Filipinos comprise a considerable percent of the global number of merchant seafarers--perhaps even the majority. However, the problematic aspect is that, in the corporate pursuit of lower wages, shipping companies have re-flagged their ships to nations that offer very low tax burdens. Additionally, this provides the companies the opportunity to staff their ships with third-world labor--from top to bottom. To this, they have found that Filipinos provide a fairly passive ("cooperative" is the term the companies have used in description) labor force that will accept sub-standard labor practices that the companies' own populations would refuse on humanitarian grounds. For instance, Filipinos often accept two or more year contracts to serve aboard a ship, with no opportunity to take time off to visit home, and receive little to no pay until the end of their time on ship. Should a sailor quit, they have to surrender their earnings. Of course, such a contract would be illegal in most developed countries; however, it is unlikely the average Filipino has access to legal representation that will allow recovery of earnings. Also, once a sailor reaches his 40's, he is no longer accepted for work through the many hiring agencies found in his own country. The hiring practices favor the companies by minimizing their liability for the health and welfare of the sailors.

In the end, Filipinos are exploited. This is clearly evident in the numbers of these sailors stranded in Somalia, after their ships have been seized by pirates. To date, well over 300 Filipinos are languishing in Somalia, waiting for someone to raise their ransom. This is something that probably will not happen, as the only people with that kind of money was their employers--a lot that obviously have abandoned them at this point. To say the least, their families do not have that kind of money. If they had, these men would not have taken the job.

To continue: In the face of this so-called "outsourcing" of jobs (in the maritime industry, we call it "scabbing-out"), it is not surprising that a level of resentment exists against Filipino mariners. However, it would be foolish to dodge the issue of racism. Ironically, the closer to the lower rungs of scab labor, the worse the racism gets. It is said that, once you're off the coast of India, you're scraping the bottom of the barrel. The abuse passed between Indians and Filipinos is appalling. It starts generically and is similar to this: "Filipino monkey... Filipino monkey?" The reply: "Fuck you! You're the monkey!" The generic counter reply: "Filipino monkey like a ba-na-na?" The scorched-earth reply: "Indian monkey, I eat your god."

Probably the most cold-blooded piece of abuse I ever heard was one without words. If I recall correctly, it was back in 1991, and I was on a car carrier transiting the English Channel. As always, it started over channel 16, the frequency strictly reserved for ship-to-ship hailing (you first establish contact with another ship and then switch to another channel) and emergency communication. I heard what I recognized as tiny cymbals banging together: "Ching-ching-ching-ching-ching-ching-ching-ching..." I was initially confused as to the source of this noise. Suddenly, I realized it was one of those wind-up toy chimps. Ouch!

But I have been offered correction about my assumption that all this abuse comes from non-Filipinos. Apparently, there are some Filipinos who engage in this behavior--just to see if they can piss-off one of their own countrymen. This was related to me by 3rd Mate Wes. He had sailed with an elderly Filipino, who once sailed as a mate on the foreign flag ships but found better pay as an able seaman on U.S. ships. This sailor discerned that a particular antagonist was really a Filipino. He then got on the radio (with permission, of course) and informed the other person that he was shaming his own people and should stop this kind of behavior.

I couldn't agree more. Not like it's an "Uncle Tom" kind of a thing, but it's more about being aware that you and your people are striving to better themselves against a lot of adversity. If there are individuals who are giving cause to your oppressors, then behavior that gives fuel to the fire must stop. There's no point in engaging the monkey business. As someone who is half-Japanese and grew up through some of the residual post-WWII anti-Japanese sentiment of the 60's and 70's, I can attest to this one thing: Individual pride is one thing, but respecting your own dignity and that of others is another. The energy spent defending your own pride can easily fuel an unending cycle of vengeance.

Perhaps, in one sense, this is what lies at the nexus of "Monkey Radio." It's sad to see a corner of the maritime world where people at the lowest economic rungs are tearing at each other. You see what all this outsourcing of labor does? It's like wealthy members of the Klan pitting poor whites against poor blacks. So long as the have-nots are fighting between themselves for intentionally discarded crumbs, the haves are able to exploit the situation for a profit by alternating favor and disfavor between the two impoverished groups and keep them from realizing their common cause.

So why is there this animosity between the Indians and the Filipinos? It's because these two English-as-second-language groups see each other in competition for what they don't realize are the lowest paying jobs in the industry. Nearly all shipping companies from developed nations have jettisoned their own nation's people in favor of labor from poorer countries. And are these third-world people getting paid at the same standard of living as the previous, developed nation seafarers? Of course not. Meanwhile, they get to see their families for only a little while between their contracts. And they live sad and lonely lives at sea, seething on the inside, and hating what most resembles them.

More Catching Up: At Sea, Advancing the Clock, & Deck Work

2009-07-04T22:28:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, June 16, 2009
12:24 AM
Advancing the Clock
Just got off watch. I haven't written anything over the past days, because of lack of sleep and fatigue. Two days ago, we advanced the clocks one hour. Last night (over the previous watches), we advanced the clock three hours, starting after Noon and finishing on my 8 to 12 evening watch. We do this changing of the clocks in order to keep ourselves synchronized with the local time zone. While it isn't like we are stopping anywhere between the East Coast of the United States and the Suez Canal, we will be crossing something like seven time zones by the time we reach Egypt and have to communicate with the local authorities. Moreover, it is, naturally, important to stay with the Sun. In order to do this, as we progress eastward, we have to shorten our days by advancing the ship's clocks. Conversely, when we return westward, we will retard our clocks and lengthen our days. Interestingly, it is convenient to advance the clocks three hours in one day, one hour per four hour watch, starting between Noon and 1600. We do this twice during the eastward leg of a voyage. In the case of a one-hour time change, the clock is moved twenty minutes per watch. When we sail westward, we only change the clocks one hour on a given day.

Such as it is with sailors, we always find a reason to complain. When we advance the clocks, we complain that we lose sleep. When we retard the clocks, we complain that our watches are longer. The only people who seem to have reason to be happy with the time changes are the day workers. With the advancing of the clocks, they only have to work seven hours during the day. When we retard the clocks, they gain an extra hour for sleep or recreation. Sometimes it seems that there is no group that can complain like sailors.

Work in General and The Bosun's Chair
So what has the deck gang been doing lately? Well, as usual, there is plenty of rust to chip. It was either yesterday or the day before that Danny Ycoy was put into a Bosun's chair and lowered down the port side of the ship's house to chip rust from around the stateroom windows. While that may not seem that much of a deal, that's a six-story drop down to the deck, with the man swinging away from the side when the ship rolls to port. Danny got stuck with that job, because he's one of the two day-working AB's. I suspect Chuck Maringer dodged the bullet because he's as old as he is. Greg has been high-pressure water-blasting rust from around the pool (Yes, we do have a pool, though it is small.), while Ray has been chipping rust somewhere else. Myself? Well, since I have some woodworking skills, I've been assisting the Bosun with some projects. One was repairing a chair and another is helping him with building a shelf extension in the paint locker. This is quite the project, as there is this reinforced section of the anchor housing that protrudes up from the deck inside the paint locker, which we have to build around. Talk about a custom fit!

Stormin' Norman
Since it was raining today, Danny's job was put on hold. I don't know what he was detailed to do, but I'm sure Bosun Norm had something up his sleeve. Norm Christiansen is, it can be said, is infamous for being a task master. He is also known for getting a lot of work out of his men. I do not dispute either of these claims, as I have worked with him in the past. Nonetheless, I have no complaints. I have made good money because of him and have learned some good skills to boot. Norm is one of the last ship's carpenters in the Sailors Union has--despite the position having been phased out with the arrival of the container ships. Up until then, he had shipped as a carpenter for 14 years straight. Nonetheless, most captains and chief mates like having him aboard. Lots of work gets done, and no one questions his integrity. "Stormin' Norman" may be a tough taskmaster, but I always end up going home with a bit of knowledge that will serve me around the house. More on that soon enough! It's past time for bed, and I still need to catch up on sleep. Lord knows when that will happen...

More Catching Up: Norfolk, Virginia

2009-07-04T10:54:00.000-07:00

Thursday, June 11, 2009
12:47 AM
Going Ashore in Norfolk
We expect to receive the Norfolk pilot around 1000. From there, it will be close to three hours before we're finished with docking and lines. Considering that we are schedule to leave at midnight, and that there will be lots of Engine and Steward Department stores, I may find myself unable to go ashore. That will be a drag! I still have some toiletry items that I need, pit-stop being high on the list. The other issue is my being able to post another entry for this blog at Fair Grounds coffee shop, just off of Colley Avenue. They offer free WiFi, so I highly recommend their generosity and good coffee. FG is kitty corner and half-a-block away from a Starbucks. The only thing 'Bucks has over SG is that they sell The New York Times.

I also hope to buy a cheap guitar to leave on the ship. The last time I was in Norfolk, I recalled seeing an inexpensive Yamaha at a music shop in the Ghent neighborhood. If that doesn't pan-out, I'll have to find one in Singapore. Though I've been there several times, the one place I saw guitars for sale is no longer in business. The search starts all over again?

I'm uncertain whether to ask for a reimbursement out of the ship's recreation fund for the guitar. I know there are other sailors who play guitar and would enjoy having an instrument to keep up their chops on. Then again, to bring a guitar aboard is ultimately self-serving. At the same time, I have been asked to play for the crew (as if I enjoyed being obliged to play for people by a captain I didn't particularly like. I did it, though, only because it was for a Chief Mate that I did like).

8:58 AM
One more hour before we pick up the pilot. After that, it will be steering in hand, instead of relying on the auto pilot. We've already started the hour-for-hour rotation on the wheel. That's why I'm able to write right now, my being on "standby."

Getting up this morning was a little rough. I stayed up a bit too late last night. As a watch stander, I have only eight hours from the end of on watch to the start of my next (each bridge watch lasts four hours). I also work four hours of overtime in the four hours between lunch and dinner. Because of this schedule, it's important to get into bed as soon as possible after work. It would seem that keeping up this blog is not going to be that easy. Once we get out to sea, I hope to spread out the time I spend writing. Besides, everything falls back into the daily routine once we get out to sea for the passage across the Atlantic and through the Mediterranean.

Saturday, June 13, 2009
12:27 AM
Not Enough Sleep
Too tired to add to the log over the last 24 hours. We left the dock at Norfolk at Midnight. It was three hours more when we dropped off the Chesapeake Bay harbor pilot. Since the Bosun, Norm Christiansen, and I were on the 8 to 12 watch, we were the so-called "Back-up watch" for the mid-watch and, therefore, had to take care of the bow lookout and assist the standby helmsman with rigging and securing the pilot ladder. It was a little after 0300 when we were done with work and off to bed.

This is a prime example of why sleep is always at such a premium. Since I'm the 8 to 12 watch stander, I get up for breakfast and my 0800 watch. Though I get a wake-up call at 0720, I try to get up a half-hour before that, in order to give myself enough time to clear my head and grind some coffee beans for my French press. Coffee is my friend. Even without the interruption of docking and undocking, I normally get only six hours of sleep between midnight and 0700, it being my habit of needing an hour to wind-down enough to get to sleep. After dinner, I try to take a nap before my 2000 watch, which actually starts at 1945. That early start time allows for passing-on the ship's true course, course steered, and the magnetic compass heading, as well as word on any vessels within visual and radar range, to the relieving helmsman. In reality, it is a rare thing to find myself getting a full eight hours of sleep when I'm a watch stander.

On that note, I'm heading to bed. It's a quarter-to-one, and I'm now looking at that precious six hours of snooze. I'll be doing my best to keep this blog alive.

By the way, by now it must be obvious that I failed to make it to Fair Grounds coffee shop (That's why this entry is getting posted on the blog weeks after the writing). I lucked into a free ride into town, but the wait and dinner with the people I was with used up more time than I thought I had (a little more of that in a bit...). Now I'll end up having to wait until Singapore or Jebel Ali (if I'm lucky to find a connection) for the next opportunity to cut and paste my writings into this blog. There has to be a better way. We shall see.

I did score a cheap guitar, though. It's an all-black, six-string acoustic Ibanez with a cut-away body and pick up system (as if that has any use out here). I found it at Russell's Music World, a tiny shop located at 504 Washington Park, in Norfolk, Virginia. The owner, Russell Scarborough, is a nice guy and had two acoustic guitars I was able to try out. I chose this one, because it was the cheaper of the two, and I liked the overall sound better. Since no one else brought an instrument, I have to go it alone. I did bring four harmonicas and a neck rack with me, so I can now musically rub my stomach and pat my head in the privacy of my own stateroom.

You Cocksucker!!!
At some point, I hope to write more about Mark Nemergut. He was the generous soul that gave me and 3rd Mate, Wes Wilson, a ride to town in Norfolk--and then some. Mark is the Chief Mate aboard the APL ship, President Jackson. He is now the reason I've penciled-in the Jackson as a ship worth sailing on. What a character! He wants to write a book titled: "I Told the Cocksucker..." Or: My Life in the Merchant Marine.

I think the name says it all. Yes, we actually do say such things as "Motherless cocksucker!" or address a despised individual as "You focking cunt!!!" It's not like we have anything against gays or women, it's more like, the harsher the epithet or more extreme the phrase, the better. "The Taboo" is useful. Actually, we do enjoy it when a gay or transvestite sailor arrives aboard. They often shake things up a bit and rock many an ultra-conservative homophobe's boat. It's always good sport when someone shows up to the Captain's office at the end of a voyage in drag ("Yo, Franky, we loves ya!" But that's another sea story...).

Ciao!
--Dave

Catching Up: From Charleston, S.C. to Savannah, Georgia

2009-07-03T11:21:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, June 09, 2009
7:17 PM

Savannah, Georgia:
Ship all fast at Savannah, Georgia. Bunker barge secured to the side of ship. Time for some fuel! We departed the dock at Charleston around 0700, so the transit from dock to dock was about eleven hours: About two hours down the Charleston River, six hours south against the Gulf Stream, and three hours up the Savannah River, with time for handling lines on either end.

Over Sea, Versus Over Land:
I've always wondered why the freight companies don't just freight the cargo at Savannah up to Charleston. Then again, one has to consider how many trucks and/or trains to would take to move the same number of containers the over-ground distance. Take that fuel and personnel cost and weigh it against the same cost for the ship traveling for eleven hours. This ship employs only 20 people, versus the number of truck drivers it would take to haul the 1100 containers we will load here (Actually, that number is the number of containers that will get moved. That may not be the number we will take aboard. It could as easily be the combined number of containers off and on loaded). That's 1100 driver hours having to cover the 60 mile distance from Savannah to Charleston, versus the 220 mariner hours for the same.

Actually, I have to confess I'm no wizard of freight logistics and would like if someone would step up and offer a realistic breakdown of the comparative costs between over-land and over-water transportation. For instance, I have no idea what the typical fuel mileage is for a semi-truck or a freight train pulling 100 containers (three engines pulling 50 double-deckers?), compared to the hourly fuel cost for a C-10 container ship. Nonetheless, I've heard many times that a ship can move more containers far more economically than either truck or train. But for the distance of only 60 statute miles, versus the 98 nautical miles, it's kind of hard for me to speak definitively.

Well, I have to go to bed. At some point in the morning, the 4 to 8 watch AB, Greg Schauf, and I will be called out to let the bunker barge go. On call 24/7...

Wednesday, June 10, 2009
1:44 AM
The Two-Hour "Call-Out" and Back to Bed:
Just finished casting off the bunker barge. Sailing around 0600. Go back to bed! Sorry no pictures of the bunker barge and the tow boat. Too much hustle to make time for the camera. This will be a regular problem.

9:34 AM
Premature Call-Out and Steering "In Hand":
The gang was called out at 0545 for 0615. That was an oops. The night mate was new to the procedures of the ship and misinformed Greg on the call-out time for the deck gang. We finally got under way around 0645. I had to eat a quick breakfast and then take the helm by 0745. No rest for the wicked.

BTW, a night mate is a deck officer brought in through the local Master, Mates, and Pilots union hall to either assist or fill in for the mate on watch overseeing the cargo operations. The idea in procuring this individual is to insure the cargo is properly overseen and to allow the other mates time off for rest, relaxation, or shopping in town. Not in that order. Usually it's a quick shopping trip first and then a quick return to the ship for some shut-eye before the ship leaves the dock.

When steering "in hand," the two AB's (short for "Able Bodied Seaman") on a watch rotate an hour on and an hour off. This is to insure that the helmsman doesn't get mentally fatigued from taking rudder and compass heading orders from the pilot, while dancing his eyes from the steering compass, to the rudder angle indicator, and to the rate-of-turn indicator. If you were unable to get much sleep, it can feel like a life-or-death ordeal to maintain ones focus. Fortunately, everyone on the bridge keeps an eye on each other. If the pilot's order seems strange, the helmsman should raise the question. The helmsman also has to repeat the pilot's orders and confirm when they have been carried out. Meanwhile, the pilot, the captain, and the mate-on-watch keep an eye on the helmsman, to see if he is correctly executing the given orders.

When this system of overlapping checks fails, collisions and groundings occur. There is this infamous story of a ship that went aground somewhere on the Mississippi River or somewhere else in the southern coastal states. Anyway, the Coast Guard investigation revealed that both the pilot and captain were on the bridge wing and the mate-on-watch was busy recording the ship's position on the nautical chart when the grounding occurred. The Captain and Pilot were asked why there were outside on the wings, instead of being inside where they could watch the helmsman. They confessed that the helmsman was passing very foul wind and they sought refuge outside. Since the mate was back in the chartroom, he wasn't able to see if the helmsman had correctly followed through on the course change.

More soon!

Ciao!
--Dave

Saved By The Palm Pilot T/X

2009-06-29T08:33:00.000-07:00

Posting from the Jebel Ali Seamans Centre. I didn't give myself enough time to pack my laptop but did bring the Palm Pilot. I followed my sister's directions and went to settings. Now I'll be able to post text via email from the ship. Cool! Unfortunately, company policy doesn't allow attachments. That means no pics until I reach Singapore.

Starting tomorrow or the next day, I will begin posting the thirteen pages (Yikes!!!) of my writings since the ship left Charleston. Each section will be dated from when it was composed. I hope that will allow readers to better follow the events until I get caught up with realtime events.

Pictures and a few video clips should arrive around July 9th. That will be when the ship will be in Singapore.

At this point, I have to say that the trip has not been without incident. Sorry, but no pirates. However, a couple of our guys got on the wrong side of the local immigration authorities. No good. I'll fill you all in on that later, once all the facts come in. Too bad you're going to have to first wade through all the crap I've written but not posted yet.

Well, the live music has started in the club It's time to close. Stay tuned in the mean time.

Ciao!
--Dave

The First Day or Three: Staten Island and Charleston, S.C.

2009-06-08T16:51:00.000-07:00

Friday, June 05, 2009
Another sad-bellied start to joining a ship. Getting up at five in the morning to make an 8:00 flight, you have breakfast at the airport. SeaTac may have Cathy Casey's Dish D'lish, but breakfast is still a fried egg sandwich. Can you say "egg-a-muffin"? Perhaps that’s a little unfair. Though it was an egg sandwich, it’s also safe to say it was probably better than any other of the same found in an airport. The good bread and an above average sausage patty helped a lot.

The hour spent hanging out with Margaret before clearing security was bitter-sweet as usual. It will be close to six months before I see her again, but having her there smoothes the transition for the both of us. Not to mention that good company makes almost any food taste better.

About an hour or so after take off, I fell fast asleep for an hour. Last night didn't provide much rest. Last minute adjustments with my packing kept me up until around midnight. And then, there was the dead rat Wanda, one of our two cats, brought gifted me a little after 2:30 am. I'm certain she knew, from my bags packed in the living room, I was leaving. This has happened more than once before. It almost always happens after we've fallen asleep. The first thing that causes you to wake is a foreign difference in the way her collar bell rings. It has to do with having a rodent hanging out of her mouth and the effect on her posture and gait. And then, what confirms the presence of the gift is her strange vocalization. Is there an actual name for that sound? It's something between a meow and a cackle, though clearly not the cackle cats make when they spy a slow, fat fly buzzing in the house or a flock of birds in a small, low tree. Either way, you have learned to wake up to a preferably dead rodent. I say, "Preferably dead," because chasing a live one in the middle of the night--it having the wide-awake advantage in a room full of luggage, while you're barefoot in your knickers, adrenaline piercing through your sleep like worms through a corpse's skull--is never good. Wanda used to bring me live ones on occasion. I think that ended the night I, in a fit of sleep-deprived rage, dispatched a rat when it scurried up behind the bedroom dresser mirror. I’ll say no more than to mention that the mirror was secured to neither the dresser nor the wall.

Wanda, the demure killer of rodents:

I should mention a few things about the vagaries of often having to fly out to a ship. The flight to Newark included a layover in Phoenix. My seat companions were an African-American mother and daughter. This surprisingly strict young mother made sure her kindergarten child had a copy of Dr. Seuss’ Green Eggs and Ham to keep her busy. Now here’s my riff: It never ceases to drive me up the bulkheads when I’m done with my time aboard a ship and I’m on a plane with an obnoxious child sitting behind me who spends the whole flight kicking the back of my seat. Typically, the accompanying parent is weak when it comes to controlling the behavior of their child. In this case, though this girl was filled with curiosity and wanted to share her book with me, she was very polite and considerate. I offer my compliments to her.

Saturday, June 06, 2009
Arrived at the ship around 10:00 pm. As the U.S. Airway flight I was on descended to the runway, I could see the dock at Howland Hook. The thing was, the Truman wasn’t there. Clearly, the ship was delayed, but no one from APL contacted me with the arrival information. Normally, the ships arrive in the morning, so I became concerned. It had been a week since I accepted the job and received my flight information. In the interim, I heard nothing about the ship’s arrival time. I ended up calling the travel liaison person and found that it due at the dock at 10:00. It was at least half an hour after I got off the plane before I rooted up the information. Is Mercury still in retrograde?

Sunday, June 07, 2009

Saturday at Staten Island, though busy, didn’t last long. First thing in the morning, as the 8 to 12 Able Seaman, I had the coastwise sanitary duties for the first two hours of my day. However, because of the amount of voyage stores the ship was receiving, I had to postpone my normal duties and assist the rest of the deck gang craning aboard and moving food and other provisions (for the Deck and Engine Departments) to their storage locations.

The stores boat from above.

Able Seaman, Chuck Maringer watching the boat gang sling up another pallet. Chuck is in his 70's and still going strong. It must be his rude and crude nature. May we all live as long and have as much verve as he.

At one point in the afternoon, there was an electrical failure in the stores crane, and work ground to a halt. Fortunately, all the food was aboard, and the repair was completed with an hour. The sailing board was originally set for 5:00 pm (cargo was done around 4:00 pm), but departure was delayed to 6:30 (an 18.5 hour port stay) to accommodate a quick replacement of some main engine parts. This is no mean feat.

People tend to see ships from at a distance. They rarely have the opportunity to view them up close. If that were to happen--and if they took it upon themselves to imagine the size of the internal spaces--they might begin to guess the size of the main engine of such a vessel. Certainly these people would not be the ones who are in the habit of calling a ship a “boat.” For one, boats do not have engines that are two stories tall. (Note: Actually, you should never get so close to a ship that you would have these thoughts. If you did, you got too close and should be looking over your shoulder to see if the Coast Guard and Homeland Security are about to slap you down for getting too close to a merchant ship. As it is, we try very hard to keep at least a half mile from boats when in open water. If the water isn't the open ocean and, instead tight quarters, then you're making us nervous. Please don't do that to us. Just keep your thoughts innocent and do your best to stay clear.)

A view down into the engine room hatch. Big cylinder heads, no?

When it comes to changing out a piston, a cylinder liner, or even the head from a piston cylinder, it is no mean feat. It takes a crane to lift one from the dock or a delivery boat and into the engine room. Once inside, there is an overhead lift to position a heavy engine part into position. The weight of these parts are so great, an engineer need only tighten the retaining nuts only by hand.

Here's a picture of Captain Charlie Carubia.

This is his "No pictures! No pictures!" look. He's heading home to NYC, after finishing his 8 week rotation. Talk about an easy commute! Captain Carubia is well liked and respected by all past and present crew. He'll never have a problem getting sailors on his ship. I'm looking forward to seeing him again in 8 weeks. About two hours later, we set sail for Charleston, South Carolina.

Monday, June 08, 2009
I just got off watch. It’s midnight, and I need to get some sleep. The ship will be receiving the Charleston (South Carolina) River pilot at 3:40 am. I will be called out at 3:00 to make ready the pilot ladder. Nightie night!

6:08 AM
Ship all fast at Charleston. What’s the point of going back to sleep when breakfast starts serving at 7:20?

So what did I do this morning--other than take these pictures of the Charleston Bridge? I had to lay down some white paint around the bridge wings. No pictures of that. Like, white paint is photogenic? After the lunch hour, once again I had the sanitation duty until 1500 (3:00 pm), when I was free to go ashore. The union contract spells out that, if the ship is staying overnight and there isn't any pressing work to be done between 1500 and 1700, then the sailor are allowed to go shore early. Gotta make it to the post office!

What did I do when I went ashore? I got a ride to Whole Foods from the Seafarers Center, a volunteer group sponsored by the Catholic Church. These people provide a kind and wonderful service to all seafarers who arrive in port and have no means of going ashore. Often, the sailors from foreign countries have neither adequate money for ground transportation or knowledge of the locale. Here, the volunteers step in and assist the sailors in whatever way they can. They even provide religious services for those who desire.

So what does a sailor buy at Whole Foods? Habanero hot sauce, Red Hot Blues blue corn chips, hommus, baba ghannouj, almond butter, oolong and green teas, a small wedge of Campo de Montalban, three slices of pizza, and The New York Times. Had the Steward, Brendan Maeda, been with me, zaru soba and dipping sauce fixin's would have been on the list.

After the Seafarers Center people picked me back up, we swung by a Barnes & Noble to retrieve another sailor from my ship. Since we were early, I snagged a CD by Esperanza Spalding and another by Luciana Souza. I highly recommend these jazz artists to anyone. The young Esperanza, from the Bay Area, is skilled as a jazz singer and bass player. Make no bones about that! She was featured on Marian McPartland's Piano Jazz(NPR). Listen to the podcast. And Souza, from Brazil, is simply amazing (aren't all Brazilians musicians jazz naturals?). I'm still looking for her album of Pablo Neruda poems put to music.

Well, it's time for bed. The sailing board is set for 0700. Savannah, Georgia is next.

Ciao!
--Dave

Back on Track?

2009-06-04T22:49:00.000-07:00

Well, it has been a long time since I first set up this blog. I can't even remember my original intent for doing it. Anyway, it seems like it's time to get it going.

Why "None of Your Penguins"? Well, I suppose it comes from my viewing penguins as some sort of symbol for or totem of the imagination. Consider this: They are flightless birds that do fly, however, underwater. The objective correlative exists in that, though people speak of "flights of the imagination," in reality, one has to dive beneath the surface of things in order to retrieve the sublime/submarine food for the imagination. Again, why "None of Your Penguins"? While objects are readily co-opted and commodified (the "nouns" of existence), it is far difficult to do the same to processes (the "verbs" of existence).

Speaking of the ocean:

Tomorrow morning, I'll be flying out to Newark and then head to Staten Island to start another job on a ship. I will be working as an Able Seaman on the American President Line (APL) containership, President Truman. The ship will visit ports on the East Coast, the Middle East (via the Suez Canal), the Far East, and Sri Lanka. This gig will last almost 6 months, as I intend on making three of these voyages. I hope to post some pictures from my time aboard the Truman.

I am a member of the Sailors Union of the Pacific--what might be the first unlicensed maritime union started in the United States. While no longer the size we once were back in the heyday of American shipping, and though we are now the smallest of the unlicensed unions, we manage to cast a long shadow.

Given the stories in the news of the pirate attacks in and around the Gulf of Aden, I figure people might find some value or interest in the fact that my ship will be sailing through those waters. The last time I shipped out through the Gulf of Aden, a ship that was 25 miles ahead of us was boarded and taken by pirates. We could hear over our bridge VHF radio the ship's captain calling the Coalition Forces in the area. Sadly, help was too far away to save them.

While my friends and family have expressed worry that my ships have to sail through the pirate waters, I tell them that the APL ships are too large and fast for pirates to waste their time with us. Very true! There are many other ships that are far more value rich, being slower and lower to the water.

Well, I have to get some sleep before my morning flight. The opportunities for me to post won't be that frequent, but I will do my best to keep this blog alive. Also, when I'm not out on the sea, I'm home in Washington State, just north of Seattle. Margaret and I keep two cats (Wanda and Fern) and four chickens (Butch, Penny, Henny, and Edie) around the house. While home this last time around, I put in some time building a greenhouse. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to fully complete it. It is almost done, my having glazed the roof, the west and the north sides. Basically, all that needs to be done is the east side and the interior. Fortunately, if Margaret isn't able to get some of her brothers to put on the finishing touches, I will be home before winter. I'll be sure to post some pics I took of the home front from the past few days--as soon as I can find an Internet cafe somewhere in my travels.

Until then...

Ciao!
--Dave Eriksen

First Waddle

2005-11-26T23:17:00.000-08:00

First Waddle...