Stupid Cool

Jeddah

2010-03-25T04:30:00.000-07:00

Well I don’t know what I expected, but Jeddah is not what I expected.

It is split between somewhat poor and palatial estates. The old city was poor, old and rundown. But it had an unusual architectural aspect. All the buildings had wooden additions that kind of looked like balconies added as an afterthought. (There is a term for this architectural feature but for the life of me I can’t remember it.)

Outside the old city there were palatial compounds reminiscent of multi-million dollar houses in Florida, with a slightly Middle Eastern feel.

The city is full of empty lots with piles of garbage sometimes smack dab between two amazing palaces. There did not appear to be any zoning. Houses were next to gas stations.

There were sculptures all over town. The city had more sculptures than any city I have ever been to.

That being said, due to Islamic rule, not a single sculpture was in the image of man. They were all modern art. And if they had a distinct directional aspect, they were always oriented to point to Mecca according to our guide.

The city seriously siestas. Everything is closed from 1-5pm and the streets become ghost towns. This naturally arose from it being the hottest time of the day, in an extraordinarily hot place, and people avoiding the heat.

So some interesting information I picked up about Jeddah. Women are not allowed to drive. They are allowed to have what our guide referred to as soft professions; they can be doctors, bankers and teachers. I think what he meant by soft is not physically challenging professions. But they must have a driver if they want to get anywhere.

Despite our guide saying that women were treated fairly, it was quite noticeable that there were far fewer women on the street than men. (And the women were quite noticeable as they were all in black.) All women wear abayas, the black wrist to neck to feet garb. We were told that this is Saudi tradition. In order to respect local tradition and custom, and for all I know to prevent us from being hung, this included us tourists. So I wore an abaya for the day.

This is an abaya shop in old town.

I could help but notice the fact that American franchises were everywhere. I mean, I guess I expected McDonald’s, Starbucks, KFC and Baskin Robbins, which are ever present in the Middle East. But they had every American Franchise ever known, Chili’s, Fuddruckers, Hardee’s, Applebees, Ruby Tuesday’s, T.G.I. Fridays, Chucky Cheeses, Krispy Kremes, Pizza Hut and more. It was a bit strange.

Just about everything was in Arabic and English, which surprised me. And I couldn’t help but notice that the graffiti was mostly in English. For a culture which is so distinctly different, they sure seemed to have taken to our language and franchises.

We were as much interested in them as they were interested in us. A media outfit actually followed us around to get video of the mostly American tourists. That was a bit weird. Oh, and we were not allowed to go ashore unescorted. We had to be on a guided tour. This, as alien as it sounds, is also the case for most people in Russia. However, in Russia, it is possible to get a visa to go unescorted, it is just an effort and expensive so most people don’t.

Oh and the fish market. I am not sure why the fish market is considered an attraction, but it seems like every city I go on tour in, we stop to see the fish market. I am not clear on the appeal. It stinks and there are fish. But here is the obligatory picture.

Finally the museum, which was quite picturesque. The museum itself was packed full of interesting exhibits, from modern art, to Islamic art, to medieval weapons, to vases, to science exhibits. It was quite impressive and worth hours if not days.

Oh, and I can't write a blog about Jeddah without including a picture of a mosque.

The immigrant population should also be mentioned. Like most of the urban Middle East, Jeddah has a huge population of Indians and Filipinos.

My final experience in Jeddah, after going back through customs, there was a man handing to each of us Islamic proselytizing packets complete with CD.

Cool: having been to Saudi Arabia

Dubai

2010-03-22T05:05:00.000-07:00

Gosh, where to start.

I have been there multiple times since 2001 and it still continues to stun me. The highlights of my stop in Dubai were tea at the Burj Al Arab (the only seven star hotel in the world), Burj Khalifa (the tallest building in the world), Palm Island (the man-made island in the shape of a palm tree) and the Dubai Fountain (which makes the Bellagio’s water performances look like a small child’s toy).

The infamous Burj Al Arab, the hotel in the shape of a sail on a man-made island, is so exclusive you need a reservation just to get within 300 meters of the building. So our Chief Accountant, Nadja, and I made reservations for “Sky Tea.”

This is the Burj Al Arab on a regrettably hazy day.

The building is incredible in a lot of ways, but the feature I appreciated the most was the atrium. This is what you see looking up the 27 floor atrium in the lobby.

The building was ornate in a slightly middle-eastern way, for example, the elevators for example were entirely covered with stylish Arabic calligraphy. (I should have taken more pictures.)

“Sky Tea,” on the 27th floor, over looks all of Dubai. In one direction is the city, in another direction is “The World” (a collection of man-made, sense a theme here, islands designed to appear to be a map of the world when viewed from above) and in another direction is Palm Island. (I should have taken more pictures.)

Tea began with Champagne and berries with cream, followed by a tower (in the shape of a sail) of decadent crust less sandwiches and canapés, scones with clotted creams and jams and finally petits fours. It was a lovely afternoon with a ridiculous amount of food. (I should have taken more pictures.)

Dubai has a thing for aquariums. There were aquariums everywhere. It seems kind of odd to have aquariums in the desert but Dubai began as a fishing village, so maybe it is not so strange. And these were aquariums unlike any you have ever seen before. They were done Dubai style, which is to say massive. I honestly think that the aquarium at the Dubai Mall is bigger than anything the Monterey Bay Aquarium has. This is a picture of just part of the aquarium in the Dubai Mall.

The Dubai Fountain is a huge lake in front of the Burj Khalif with scheduled fountain shows much like the Bellagio’s but on a much grander scale. One of the things that makes it such an experience is the music that the water performs to is traditional Arab music. It is the sort of thing you have to see to appreciate. (I should have taken pictures.)

This is the Burj Khalifa.

So let’s talk about Dubai’s bus stops. Strange topic, I know… but they are air conditioned, so they have to be mentioned.

The bus stop is on the right.

Islam touches aspects of life which never occurred to me. There was a park where, on Mondays, only women and children were permitted.

As with most any where, the re is a dark side to Dubai and to be well-rounded I should really mention the underclass of predominantly Indians which work slavery hours to continue to build the city for laughable wages or the way some women are treated and practically imprisoned. (OK, points mentioned.)

It is, nonetheless, an incredible city.

Cool: Dubai

Stupid: Not taking enough pictures

Bandar Abbas, Iran and Kuwait

2010-03-08T08:47:00.000-08:00

So I am now one of the few Americans who have been to Iran. I went on an organized tour of Bandar Abbas. The organized tour, while nice, and safe, didn’t really give me the opportunity to get a sense of the local culture.

The Shiite Syed Mozafar Mosque (cool)

Here is what I did take away. Bandar Abbas is a very poor city and I don’t know if that is representative of the nation. The people were curious and very friendly. There was a surprising amount of English written around the city. That is not to say there was a lot, but there were signs that said things like "City Center" and street names. I did not expect to see English. People at the sites knew a couple English words, such as "Thank you." Although Muslim, it did not seem oppressively so. Our tour guide, a woman who laughed a lot, wore something which covered her hair only in the most token of fashion. In general, though some were dressed in what I would classify as western attire, women were covered from wrists to neck to ankles. Most were dressed in more traditional Muslim attire however.

All in all, I regret (though my parents most definitely do not) that I did not venture out to the city center outside the organized tour to get a real sense of the place. Though I have been to Iran, I don’t really feel that I experienced the place. (stupid)

Iranian money (my only souvenir from Iran)

As we traveled away from Iran in the night, we passed oil rigs with burning release valves. I have sailed a lot of seas, but seeing what appears to be fire in a light fog on the ocean at night is very eerie.

Today we are in Kuwait City which is fairly western. The skyline of high rises could just as easily be an American city. The dress code is casual and people were allowed to go ashore in any attire they desired. (The ship, in order to protect our guests and crew, has been enforcing the local dress customs as we travel to Muslim countries. People who are not properly dressed according to local customs are forbidden to leave the ship.)

There was a haze in the air of Kuwait City. I thought the haze was fog, but I have been told that it is actually smoke from the burning oil fields.

I was not able to go ashore, but fellow crew members came back with tales of McDonalds, malls, nice beaches, lots of large SUVs (gas prices not being an issue) and a few Americans tried to get to the border with Iraq (crazy people).

Kuwaiti money (my only souvenir from Kuwait)

Tomorrow, Bahrain.

Iran Tomorrow

2010-03-05T09:36:00.000-08:00

I sit in my cabin, in rough seas, pondering tomorrow.

I will be in Bandar Abbas, Iran tomorrow. Talk about places I never thought I would ever see.

As an American, traveling with fifty to a hundred fifty other Americans, all wealthy, I can’t help but think that we are the perfect target.

Nonetheless, I am looking forward to the thrill and to see what feels like a forbidden land. (I have my headscarf all laid out for the morning.)

The ship has gone through some interesting preparations for tomorrow. We have to be a completely dry (alcohol-free) ship while in port and in Iranian waters. In case you have never been on a cruise, a dry cruise is practically a contradiction. It is quite an effort to collect every last ounce of alcohol on a cruise ship, from every crew cabin, every guest cabin, every mini-bar, every bar and every office (and there is a lot of alcohol in offices, my office had about 12 bottles).

Areas of the ship, such as our promenade deck, are being closed for our time in port. This is to adhere to local dressing customs. Rather than run the risk that women and men will not properly cover themselves while in areas of the ship readily visible to shore, the ship has decided to close those areas.

We are still somewhat curious as to how those officials who come onboard will react to the women onboard who will be dressed according to western standards. We are especially curious because our officers onboard in charge of immigration processing are women.

Anyway, the rough seas are getting to me. So I am going to sign off.

Stupid: Terrorism and fear (and rough seas)

Cool: Seeing forbidden land.

Safari

2010-03-01T07:19:00.000-08:00

I went on safari in Africa… and I have the nice white girl sunburn and peeling skin to prove it.

So it was 8:15 in the morning. I was sitting in my office starting a normal day at work, talking to my coworker when he says, “Why don’t you go on the crew tour?”

I thought a moment. Could I really blow off a day at work?

Then reality check came in and said sarcastically, “You are going to be in Africa sooooo frequently in life. Why blow off a day sitting at a computer for a day in the African sun potentially seeing big game?”

So poof, I ran out of my office, changed into my safari attire, grabbed my camera, water and not enough sun block from my cabin. Ten minutes later I was on the dock in Port Elizabeth, South Africa, with a bunch of other cruise ship crew members, waiting for a bus that would take us to a game reserve.

An hour bus ride later we arrived at Lalibela Game Reserve. We were greeted with champagne flutes of orange-like juice and an African musical performance. (While we enjoyed the performance, we were politely asked to sign away our rights to sue them if we got eaten by a lion.)

Then we piled into an open top jeep that amazingly sat ten people comfortably.
I must admit, my expectations were low. I figured a nice day driving around the African wilderness enjoying the sunshine would be worth blowing off work and the cost of the crew tour.

And ten minutes into the ride… we were 30 feet from a pride of lions. It is a bit of a thrill to be sitting so close and so vulnerable so near to a bunch of lions. I mean really, there was nothing stopping them from making us lunch, except mid-day lethargy, the heat and perhaps the overpowering smell of sun block. We enjoyed watching the lions for a while, and the lions seemed a bit annoyed but tolerant of us. (It is, after all, a game reserve; they see the jeeps in the morning, afternoon and evening.)

We continued our drive on roughly forged trails through the African landscape passing herds of antelope like things (I didn’t catch the names of all the animals), zebras and giraffes.

Our next major thrill was a family of elephants huddled beneath the shade of a tree. Elephants, being more docile than the lions, allowed the jeep to come real close. We could not have been more than ten feet away from the elephants. They watched us, watching them as they flapped their ears continuously to cool themselves.

Then we heard a noise from behind us. There was another group of elephants behind us. This made our guide very nervous. Apparently you don’t want to be between two groups of elephants. They passed right around us, reach out and touch them close. We survived the encounter.

From there, the guide went searching for rhinos, through valleys, over hills, through meadows. Bounce bounce bounce in the jeep, frying in the hot mid-day African sun. Drinking lots of water, applying again and again sun block.

And then the guide delivered, and there was a rhino. The rhino was the most bothered by our presence and walked casually away.

Our final sighting was a bunch of bumps on the water. They were hippos, but honestly, they just looked like some bumps on the water. All they had exposed was their eyes and noses.

Following a few hours on safari, we returned to a lodge for a delicious late lunch. I really liked the lodge for the details, like antler door knobs and ostridge egg chandeliers.

An hour drive later, a quick costume change, and I was back in the office at work.

(If you are going to play hooky from work, why not go on safari in Africa!)

Cool: Safari.

Return to Ship Life

2010-02-26T02:00:00.000-08:00

Well I have returned, after nearly two years land-bound, to ship life. And with my return comes a return to adventure.

My journey started at my home in Los Angeles, where it was 70F, and my destination was Cape Town, where it was 80F. I tell you this because, in this context, wearing sandals, light-weight pants, and a t-shirt on the plane seems a reasonable choice. Perhaps not so much when changing terminals through snow at JFK. Silly me, thinking I would not have to leave the terminal to catch my connection. (Stupid: flight connection transfers that require you to walk through snow.) Boy my toes were cold.

The trip was LA to New York (5 hours), a layover in New York (4 hours), plane de-icing in New York (2 hours on the tarmac), New York to Johannesburg (15 hours), quick run through immigration in Johannesburg (1.5 hours), and Johannesburg to Cape Town (2 hours).

Now, trips like this I am fairly used to. This is the second time I have flown to Cape Town from LA. And I have done other long hauls like LA to Auckland, New Zealand. The one thing I really want after a trip like that, a nice hot shower. (Do you see where this is going?) Stupid: Hotels without hot water.

OK, two stupids out of the way.

Cape Town is a stunningly topographically beautiful city with a series of huge bays and of course its central feature Table Mountain, a huge plateau in the middle of the city. (Cool: How gorgeous Cape Town is.)

(My picture really does not do it justice.)

Having been to Cape Town before, my goal was more social than sight-seeing. My girlfriend, who I worked with in Santa Barbara California, now lives in Cape Town with her husband. So a quick cold shower and text message later, she picked me up and we were off to have drinks. (Cool: Catching up with old friends.) The following morning she gave me a tour of Cape Town.

Then it was off to work on the ship. Returning to the ship after vacation, or in my case, nearly two years on land, I imagine is a lot like being a rock star. Every person you pass greets you warmly and welcomes you back. Many people are excited to see you and can’t wait to catch up. You get to be the exciting popular person of the day. People would stop by my office just to welcome me back and there were lots of hugs. It is an awesome experience. (Cool: returning to warm welcomes onboard.)

More coming…

Switzerland

2009-08-02T02:00:00.000-07:00

(This post is dedicated to my friend Michael Dünki who was an extraordinary host showing me an incredible time in Switzerland.)

Switzerland is idyllic. The countryside is endless foothills equally meadow and forest, behind which are the stereotypical snow-capped mountains. I had the great fortune to go hiking in the Swiss Alps on a marvelous summer day. There was still snow on the trail, but the sun was warm on our backs. The senses are overwhelmed somehow with the simplicity. The air is crisp, clean and quintessential perfect mountain air. The views are of green valleys, dotted with wooden houses with steep roofs, bordered by tall snow-capped mountains. But the sound is what I found most enchanting of all. Roaming the meadows of Switzerland are cows adorned with large cow bells. Drifting on the air is the sound of a continuous collect of bells, like a quiet distant wind chime.

Notice the big bell on the cow's neck:

The Swiss are an interesting people with a very great and deep appreciation of rules. I noticed this trait while waiting for lights to change. In the States, if you are waiting to cross the street and there are no cars coming in any direction, you don’t wait for the light to change. You cross the street against the light.

I never saw a Swiss person do this. Out of curiosity, I sat and watched people at a light. The light cycle was about four minutes. It didn’t matter. The Swiss would wait the four minutes for the light to cycle rather than cross against the light, even with no cars in sight for the entire cycle. I think this is indicative of the entire culture’s general attitude toward rules and regulations. There is a fundamental, inherit sense that rules and regulations exist for a reason and apply to everyone. This is quite contrary to the States, where we often feel that rules don’t apply to us or not in a particular scenario; if you doubt this, consider the last time you exceeded the speed limit.

One of the minor things I found so impressive about Switzerland was the roads. They were in perfect condition, everywhere. Since the country is so hilly, it is often more efficient to travel through the hills and mountains than around them. The network of tunnels was impressive.

And as if to emphasize that they are Swiss and time keeping is important, the time is posted above major roadways. OK, this is a bit of an exaggeration. They have sign posts where they can dynamically update information for drivers. (My friend indicated that they might be used for information about particular festivals or road conditions.) But lacking any announcements on road conditions, they post the time. I never saw an announcement. To me it just seemed like every few miles there was a sign post announcing the current time.

Let’s talk about food. The Swiss LOVE their cheese and their meat. It seems that half their markets are dedicated to an assortment of cheese and meat preserves of one type or another. Eating in Switzerland I noticed that cheese is a component of every dish. This makes sense in a way; all those cows idly chiming away can’t merely be for decoration.

Another aspect of Switzerland, which was so stereotypical and so true were the rustic wood houses with steep roofs and vibrant flower boxes. I wish I had taken more pictures of these houses.

Healthcare is a hot topic in America today. I found the way Switzerland addressed healthcare fascinating. All Swiss are required to have healthcare insurance which they pay for themselves. I have to admit that I like this solution but I also see the problem. There is simply no way we would achieve anywhere near compliance in the US. It has many benefits though. It fosters competition in the health insurance industry. People get to choose what insurance plan they pay for so there are many choices at a variety of prices. In some ways it is an additional tax, but I would rather pay my $120 to a competitive private health insurance company than to a government agency which does not have a fiscal incentive to be efficient. I think it is a great solution, but would also like to hear other people’s thoughts.

Lastly, one of my favorite things to do is take pictures of funny signs. This festival was clearly not named by a native English speaker.

And finally, stupid and cool.

Stupid: I honestly cannot think of anything stupid in Switzerland.

Cool: Everything about it, Switzerland: the alps, the cheese, the cows, the time, the appreciation of rules, the look of the houses, everything.

Nothing

2009-02-01T14:06:00.000-08:00

I have come to learn more people were used to reading this blog than I realized. As many of you know and some of you guessed, I have left ships. And land life is awfully redundant.

On ships you see new things every day which is not only inspiring but it also provides a wealth of material. On land, because you see the same place day in and day out, none of it pops out at you as particularly thought provoking or noteworthy.

Well, I stumbled upon something noteworthy, namely what I like to call Nothing. I have actually gone out of my way to see Nothing multiple times. I have dragged other people to see Nothing, cause it is such a kick. I have made sure people had some nothing to take home with them. I happen to really like Nothing.

So what is Nothing? Nothing is “The Nothing Machine.” It is a Rube Goldberg type machine which literally does “nothing” over and over and over again.

(If you are not familiar with Rube Goldberg, then you have missed a charming little idiosyncrasy of American culture. Rube Goldberg was briefly an engineer and a life long cartoonist. The cartoons that gained him lasting fame depicted overly engineered and generally convoluted machines which did the simplest or most mundane of tasks in a ridiculously complicated way.)

The Nothing Machine, approximately six feet tall, three feet wide and two feet deep, sculpted by Rodney Aguiar, utilizes an old typewriter in the center of mechanized classic motorcycle parts including several gears, chains, springs and pistons, to type “nothing” repeatedly. Hence, it is The Nothing Machine which literally does “nothing” over and over again. The curators are quick to tear off some paper with “nothing” on it so patrons can take a little bit of Nothing home with them.

(Sorry, the video quality isn't great.)

I have always liked Rube Goldberg machines, but this one with the added word-play dimension, very much entertained me.

I hope it entertained you as well.

Cool: The Nothing Machine.

Just Saturday Night Dinner

2008-08-20T12:09:00.000-07:00

Crystal has provided me with a number of exceptional life experiences and tonight was another fine example.

I had dinner with former Miss USA/Miss Universe Brook Lee, 1976 swimming gold medalist Brain Goodell and Travel Channel personality Jon Ashton along with six friends and colleagues in the exclusive and private Vintage Room.

Dinner, an exquisite eight course meal prepared personally by a six-star cruise-ship’s executive chef, included a selection of eight remarkably fine wines, the likes of which I will probably never experience again. The head sommelier introduced each wine, described their exquisite attributes and why they complimented the particular course.

I got to hold an Olympic Gold metal, which was heavy, bigger and much more ornate than I expected. I got to learn what is in Miss USA’s very large purse… namely her crown and sash. I got to have an amazing eight course meal of lobster, foie gras, wagyu beef and much more.

And I had the pleasure of entertaining company.

It is a night I will remember.

(The meal was filmed for the Travel Channel. So I may be on TV, but I wouldn’t bet the gold on it.)

Cool: All of the above.
Stupid: Being too full for dessert!

What City? I Thought This Was A Mall.

2008-04-03T08:28:00.000-07:00

Hong Kong, erroneously referred to as a city, is in fact the world’s biggest mall.

Hong Kong was a trip. It is huge on a scale that is almost beyond comprehension. I have been to New York and New York seems small in comparison. This perception has more to due with Hong Kong’s extraordinary density, the Kwun Tong District has 51,100 people per square km, than the city’s actual physical size. (New York’s densest district has a mere 42,300 people per square km.)

And the mall per capita ratio is pretty impressive.

I decided to go to Victoria Peak, the highest point of Hong Kong with a nice view of the city. I stepped off the ship directly into a mall, literally. To get anywhere from the ship you first had to travel through at least a quarter mile of mall (where I bought shoes). Then to get to the ferry you passed by a bunch more shops which was kind of like a mall (bought shoes there too). I took the ferry to the central district. I got turned around in the other ferry terminal and wound up in… a mall. (I did not buy shoes in this mall though I was tempted.) I took the bus to the tram and then the tram up to Victoria Peak, the highest point of the city, which of course, had a mall. (Luckily, no shoe shops.)

View from the peak, unfortunately it was a gray day:

But you are probably more interested in the flavor of Hong Kong. Hong Kong is a major city with ridiculously high high-rises on most of the land. The English colonialism seeps through and is obvious everywhere. Most signs are in English and Chinese, and a lot of places have very English names, like Victoria Peak, named for the Queen. Many people speak English and seem glad for the opportunity to practice.

In a lot of ways it is a city like any other, with Starbuck’s and 7-11s on every corner. (This sentence is evidence of a well weathered traveler, which is rather unfortunate. It is too bad I see Hong Kong and one of the thoughts in my mind is, “just another city.”)

There are very uniquely Asia aspects, such as the street solicitors trying actively to get you to come to their massage parlors or have a suit made by their tailor. There are advertisements for Karoke packages all over the place, which is something I would expect more in Japan.

I only had a few hours ashore and most of it was spent in the tourist district, not a true representation of the city. I don’t think there are “Armani Kids” stores in all the malls of Hong Kong. (Armani Kids!) It was certainly the westernized up-scale part of town.

I am disappointed to admit I missed the major markets, which are the Hong Kong version of a bazaar, and a must-see destination. Most people came back to the ship with the usual array of trinkets, like jade elephants, chopsticks, embroidered boxes, etc. I kept looking for something unique that I could not buy at my local Asian market and I never found that something. I am sure I would have found something at the major market places. (Everything we buy in the states seems to be made in China, so why am I surprised when I recognize most of what is being sold in China.)

We sailed out of Hong Kong at 8pm, when the light show is. I would guess at least thirty or so buildings were decorated with choreographed lights in all colors, intensities and patterns.

Hong Kong is definitely a city worth seeing, if only to appreciate its sheer mind-blowing size. It is Chinese enough to really appreciate the culture and English enough to travel easily without speaking Chinese.

And the food was unbelievable.

In the tourist areas, almost everything was also in English. That does not mean the English was perfect. I was on the lookout for “Engrishisms.” My favorite “Engrish” sign was, “Goods that will be damaged, must be compensated.” I have always been a sucker for well compensated goods.

Cool: Hong Kong in general.
Stupid: Armani Kids!

Sydney Opera House

2008-03-18T00:24:00.000-07:00

I have never been one to be impressed with something simply because others are.

The Sydney Opera House falls into this description. I must admit, I was disappointed.

There were certainly inspiring aspects, most notably the superior and advanced engineering involved in a structure of such an unconventional shape.

As a visual array of lines, I think it must be mesmerizing in two dimensions.

But in three, well it just looks messy.

The glorious white shell is tiles, which destroy the shape’s smooth lines with an inconsistent lattice work.

It certainly has optimal viewing distances. Looking at it up close, and seeing all the tiles has a certain visual appeal. Seeing it from afar, where the tiles are smoothed out to a perfect shell, is also appealing. But the distance where you see the structure and the tiles, well, made me want to caulk around the tiles to smooth it out.

And I am sorry, but I just can’t help but think it looks like a broken dinosaur egg.

I don’t think it is as awe inspiring today as it was when it was built. If instead, you look at it as a period piece of the 60’s, it is ground-breaking.

I want to revitalize it by using colors to accentuate its more dramatic contours.

Don’t get me wrong, I feel privileged to have seen it, right out side my bedroom window no less. But it is certainly not on my list of things to return to.

Stupid: When real life falls so short of expectation.

Cool: Adventurous architecture of the 60’s, even if I personally don’t think it stood the test of time.

Cool: Anything that melds engineering and art for the common goal of aesthetic pleasure.

New Zealand Fjords

2008-03-08T21:52:00.000-08:00

Fjords are something that growing up in California, I had never heard of. I don’t think I even heard of them until I was in my late twenties and five days away from the Norwegian Fjords.

Fjords are extraordinary. If you are an outdoor enthusiast or a nature lover, fjords should be your Mecca; you should make a trip at least once in your life.

Technically they are salt water inlets carved by glaciers between mountains. (How blah.)

In reality they a stunning green or icy gray granite vertical contrasts hugging placid richly colored water. (Not so blah.)

I love the Norwegian Fjords. The air is amazingly clear and everything has a surreal crisp quality. The mountains are dauntingly high, many capped with snow and many with hard granite faces. The Norwegian Fjords, in my experience (which also includes the Chilean Fjords) are the most spectacular, but they are COLD even on the hottest summer day.

New Zealand’s Fjords have rounder lower mountains and are extraordinarily lush. Not nearly as extreme as Norway’s, New Zealand’s Fjords have one thing I think is a deal breaker. It gets warm in the summer. This changes it from a sight to be seen into a place to be experienced. It is alive with birds and pods of dolphins and kayakers were constantly passing the ship. (Kayaking the New Zealand Fjords has now found a spot on my list of things I want to go back and do.) It made me want to go out and climb a fjord.

Pictures:

Norwegian Fjords:

New Zealand’s Milford Sound

Kayakers in New Zealand’s Fjords (see little orange dot in water, that is a two person kayak)

Boat in New Zealand’s Fjord (That white dot toward the bottom is a boat that seats something like 250 people. That gives you an idea of the size of the fjords.)

Stupid: That California doesn’t have any Fjords.
Cool: Fjords… just generally.

What I learned/remembered in New Zealand?

2008-02-20T00:15:00.000-08:00

One of New Zealand’s primary attractions is the Sky Tower.

At over 1000 feet high, the tower’s elevators, with glass floors, whiz you upward to the observation deck at alarming speeds all the while you look down as long as you dare.

It was at this point, rapidly being thrust upward, a sudden recollection jolted me.

I don’t like heights.

This was not a good time for this sudden recollection. Perhaps sometime before paying the $25 dollars to go up to the observation deck would have been a more fitting moment for this recollection. Or at least before getting into the elevator.

But no, I remembered as the bottom of the elevator shaft, clearly visible through the glass floor, dropped away beneath me, plummeted really.

Man if the sweat did not start pouring off me.

See, I had forgotten I don’t like heights. I know. It sounds crazy. But for a couple months I have been working in Century City, Los Angeles on the 15th floor. Elevators and heights had become somewhat routine.

Note to self, 15th floor not nearly as high as the observation deck of the Sky Tower.

And perhaps more importantly, in Century City, the elevators DO NOT have glass floors!

At the observation deck, (where I currently sit with an old fashion pad of paper to be transcribed later) you are surrounded by a panoramic view of Aukland. Or, if you are me, you get a place to sit and write, while casually avoiding the view.

And if you did not get enough of the glass floor in the elevator, there are plenty of glass floor panels available on the overhanging portion of the observation deck.

Maybe I will workup the guts to look down one of those.

At the moment, standing on glass which they ashore you is strong as concrete at 38 mm thick…. Is just not going to happen. (Let alone tap dancing hard on it like that freak over there is doing.)

To me, avoiding the view, the Sky Tower opens the question of why we build things just to be the tallest? (Anything not to think about how far down it is.) I chalk it up, simply, to men’s fundamental desire to say theirs is bigger.

The other question which strikes me is, why on earth do people scare themselves to death by coming up here and standing on the glass?

And I am not even going to consider the level of psychosis involved in bungee jumping off the building!

Stupid: Irrational fears.
Cool: The view from the Sky Tower.

Needless to say, I did not bungee jump off the tower.

Where Is Here?

2008-02-13T18:41:00.000-08:00

I was in a deep sleep, dreaming, when I was pulled into a vague sleep.

In this very vague, foggy, nebulous, sleep entered the faintest thought, “Where am I?”

And slowly the thoughts starting drifting by.

Am I at my father’s house?

Mmmm, no.

Am I at my mother’s house.

No, not right either.

Am I at work?

Maybe, I work in a tall building… it could be windy.

No… mmm I am comfy, not curled over a desk.

Maybe I am in a car.

I am definitely moving.

But I am rocking back and forth kinda.

Damn alarm clock.

Could I be in a hammock?

No, I am rocking like on a boa….

SHIP! I am on my ship again!

I open my eyes and turn off the alarm clock.

But there is a smile on my face cause I happy to be here.

Stupid: Alarm clocks.
Cool: Sleep revealing how happy I am to be “home.”

(For those of you who don’t know, I quit ship life four months ago and started working in a building tall enough to sway in the wind. I did not expect to be back on a ship, and was nervous I had made the wrong decision by saying I would come back. Sleep revealed, it was the right choice.)

Here, by the way, is off the coast of New Zealand.

Mailbox (the old fashion kind)

2008-02-06T10:10:00.000-08:00

You can tell what a person is up to by looking at their mail (you know that paper stuff deposited in a repository traditionally by your house). That is just a given.

In the last week my mail has been from Hilton, Marriot, American Airlines, United Airlines, Delta Airlines and Continental Airlines.

You have to understand… I am not omitting any mail. Literally all my mail was from airlines and hotels.

You think I travel much?

Stupid: The number of trees dying so travel related companies can offer me credit cards.
Cool: That I travel enough that this as a concern.

Yule Tide Log

2007-12-26T15:45:00.000-08:00

This is an entry wholy on that TV channel that on Christmas Day shows strictly a crackling fireplace, for hours, with Christmas carols in the background.

What is worse than having on the stupid Christmas-morning flaming log show on TV in the background?

Why, actually watching it.

But it gets worse.

My Dad TIVOED it.

For an HOUR!

As if he would watch it later.

BUT HE DID!

MORE THAN ONCE!

Stupid: The Christmas crackling log show. (Oh and rewatching any portion of the Christmas crackling log show.)

Cool: My Dad's childlike joy in something so simple. (And his thought that it should really be sponsered by Duralog.)

By the way the video is on a forty five second video loop in case you wanted to know.

Do You Have The Time (Zone)?

2007-11-17T16:26:00.000-08:00

When you live on a ship, you change time zones as the ship travels east or west, so very frequently. You become accustom to checking and making sure your watch is right for your current time zone.

When you do this on land… you have lived on ships too long.

I did this today, either out of habit or the concern my house has traveled between time zones since I last wore my watch.

Let’s all hope it’s the former.

Working Girl

2007-10-31T19:38:00.000-07:00

So lately, I am working in one of the 40 something twin tower buildings in Century City, Los Angeles.

Today was Halloween... which was not actually the strangest part of the day.

Today, I waited twenty minutes to take an elevator down nine flights, from the NINTH FLOOR, so I could wait fifteen minutes to take an elevator up fourteen, to the FORTEENTH FLOOR. (For security reasons you can only take stairwells going down and for big building reasons, certain elevators only hit certain floors, meaning the elevator that stops at the ninth floor does not stop at the fourteenth.) This is why I hate cities.... it was a half an hour commute to effectively get up five stories. That is stupid.

The floors are emphasized because post ship life, I have been referring to them all day as DECK nine and DECK fourteen. (The guy in the elevator laughed at me saying, "So I am guessing you worked on the ships.")

In talking to my sister today about big city work life, I casually mentioned something which I actually wound up finding fascinating. You can tell the women assistants from the real career women by what they wear. The assistants flaunt their looks; the career women dress them down. It is an interesting psychological and sociological statement. I am sure this has been discussed by countless liberal arts women's studies programs across the country. I still find it fascinating.

The scariest part of the day was the mandatory evacuation. (Crammed with hundreds of people in a high rise stairwell made me wonder if that was what the World Trade Center stairwells were like. On a much less serious note, I also noticed stairwells on land only have handrails on one side. The random thoughts that go through one's mind.)

Strange was the people I saw who may or may not have been in costume. Is that woman supposed to look like Foxy Cleopatra or does she always dress like that? Who wears a red turtle neck under a blue shirt.... oh wait... he is supposed to look like Spiderman.

But one costume was clear. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, Moses was holding the door open...

Stupid: Spending a half hour to effectively go up five stories.
Cool: Situationally fitting costumes.

My mother, of course, will now worry about my saftey working high-rise.

(Last week it was the person who was arrested on my flight to JFK. I do my best to provide her with an unusual variety of things to worry about.)

An Image of Odessa

2007-10-03T11:04:00.000-07:00

It is strange to wander into a cultural tradition, when you least expect it. I was mundanely crossing a bridge the other day in Odessa.

It did not pop into my mind, in flashing neon "Tradition Ahead." Of course not.

The thought was, "Oh, someone left their bike lock here." And there is another.

And there is another....

And I look up, across the length of the bridge and realize the entire bridge is lined with locks.

(The dark line 3/4ths the way up the fence is entirely locks.)

At this point, it is clear, people did not just leave these locks here accidentally. This is a statement.

So I began to study the locks. Some of them had no markings. Some of them had markings long worn bare. Some were ornately engraved with care and time.

The writing was mostly Cyrillic, which obscured the message initially.

But the presence of a date marking seemed consistent.

Then the prevelance of two words, unique on each lock.... not words, it dawned on me, names.

And then of course, the symbols, common with my culture, gave away much of the meaning.

These were symbols of love etched on steel symbolizing union, strength and unbreakable bond.

By the time I left the bridge, entriged by a tradition I had never known before, it was clear to me that the locks were engraved the names of those married and the date of their union.

The web later told me it is a common Russian wedding tradition followed by tossing the key into a river, so the bond is forever.

Cool: I stumbled on to a bridge, lined by railing, hung heavy with locks...How Romantic!

My Local Bar Gets Around

2007-07-20T15:26:00.000-07:00

I mean, it is always on deck six mid-ship, but deck six mid-ship can be any where in the world.

Today we are outside Poland.

I walk into the local bar and it is the usual crowd, a mix of people I know extremely well and a few guests on for an eleven day cruise.

I get tapped on the shoulder by a guest, who says, “I know this is going to sound crazy, but what is your name?”

I reply in utter astonishment to a guy I went to high school with, “Not Scott Sterling.” Twelve thousand miles away from home, on a boat outside of Poland, I ran into Scott Sterling, someone I knew in high school and still have friends in common with.

The world really is a lot smaller the further you travel…

Are You A Real Traveler?

2007-07-14T12:53:00.000-07:00

How can you tell a real traveler?

After 23 hours of traveling, 3 flights and five hours of sleep...

The first thing I did upon arriving in Bergen, Norway on July 6th, was drop the suitcase in the room, grab the camera, and go.

I have real affection for Norway. It is beautiful and charming in a European/High Rockies sort of way. The architecture is European and the scenery has the feel of the Rockies, if you are more familiar with America than Norway.

Norway's topography is extremely vertical. Between infamous Norwegian pines gracing quiet hills and strong granite cliffs, there is always something pleasing in the background of pictures.

Often there is serene water in the foreground.

First, my tiny and cute hotel room:

Then the beautiful harbor:

This was a cool fountain in the town center, water started at the highest point and flowed through this little maze.

And a sign, cause I love signs. I need some Gratis Cube Puff.

Bergen on July 6th, after traveling so far, is a time warp. Already you have no idea what time it is, cause your body is on one time and you are physically in another.

Add to it the fact that it never gets dark. They claim the sun sets. But it never gets dark. (It is extremely north.) It twists your mind and becomes completely surreal.

I looked outside my room at 1:30 am. The hotel was on a busy city intersection. Notice the word was. When I retired to my room that evening there were tons of cars going this way and that and people walking in all directions. It was noisy, like a city normally is.

At 1:30am, the view from my window had a completely different feel. With the lush green and warm light, it looked like maybe a mid-summer twilight. In the peace, though, there was a tang of the eerie. The streets were deserted and it was completely, ear ringingly, silent out. It was both beautiful and somewhat out of the aptly named Twilight Zone.

The next day we were in Eidfjord which practically defines picturesque. The Norwegian Fjords, very narrow sea inlets straddled by steep granite mountains, are a must see for the serious scenic traveler. It is cool, even at the peak of summer, but its beauty and the endless day make it an amazing destination.

I should let the pictures do the talking:

Unfortunately the low cloud cover masks the towering high of the mountains.

My home

I just love this picture. Somehow it define serenity.

(Though I don’t know who is jumping into that %$*^# cold water.)

There were ten mountain streams pouring into the fjords everywhere you looked. I took this picture for the guy fishing off the dock.

I see trolls and I just need to get my picture taken with them:

And lastly, modern art. This statue stood at the center of what could barely be called a town (a few restaurants, a market and a gas station). I love her. She might look strange to an American, but her features are definitively Scandinavian. Her brow is bent into a pronounced V. Her eyes are large with full upper lids, and that button nose is a tell tale sign.

This is my friend who is Swedish and female and therefore named Anna, like seemingly all other Swedish women. (She would kill me if she knew I did this.)

But look at her and then at the sculpture.

I think the similarity is striking.

At the moment we are sailing out of Russia and I reminded by the rocking ship that I must get some sleep…

Maybe I Should Travel With Another Airline?

2007-06-15T19:29:00.001-07:00

Is it a bad sign when the airline asks you for your death certificate?

They Really Do This?

2007-05-12T19:46:00.000-07:00

I am at my parents' home at 8pm on a Saturday night.

They, my parents, are reading entries of the dictionary to one another.

Yes, really.

It is amazing I turned out relatively normal.

(Before you protest, please note the "relatively.")

They are researching the difference between underwhelmed, whelmed and overwhelmed if you are interested.

Perspective on the Downside of Travel

2007-05-05T01:52:00.000-07:00

As I sit here at 1:45am, wide awake and ready to start my day, I am annoyed. Jet-lag is stupid.

But then, in a moment of ‘the glass is half full,’ I realize what a luxury and how cool it is to have traveled around the world.

Petra

2007-04-16T04:45:00.000-07:00

(OK OK, I am way behind. I think this is from two weeks ago.)

As I sit here watching the Suez Canal go by, high sandy stone banks, speckled by long abandoned huts, a short length of green lots, palm trees, primitive basic shelter and a central mosque, followed past that by nothing… a wasteland of dead sand, in the distance sudden steep
slops… I have come to write about Petra.

But instead I am a bit inspired to talk about Egypt. I spent two weeks in Egypt exactly ten years ago at this time. What strikes me most as I watch it travel by again, is the smell. I can only guess that what I smelling is the sand. It is distinctive, and indeed the smell of Egypt.

The middle east is a wasteland of dead land. An infinite, at least mentally, stretch of sand.

Nothing. It is like the moon and equally supportive of life.

The Egyptian Civilization that built the pyramids, is not an indication of what this land’s people is capable of. It is an indication of what this land’s people is capable of assuming water is available.

It is beyond me how the Bedouins survive. They must know of hidden water sources. The stories of biblical times are so much more inspiring when the hardship of this land is taken into account.

It is amazing to me that the Middle East exists at all. But of course, they exist because of the black gold beneath their feet. Without it, they would be little more than the roaming nomads from which they descend. The land does not really provide for anything, and survival itself is an
outstanding feat, forget innovation and artistic creation.

Artistic creation with what?

But the black gold at their feet has allowed them to enter the western world, with perfect streets, and malls, and Cadillac’s, and Starbuck’s… at least in the major lucrative cities. I think that the westernize countries, Jordon, United Arab Emirates, Oman, (these are the ones I have
visited) I think they will all play a growing influence in our culture. Not because they control oil, Jordon actually has no oil at all. They will enter our culture because their people finally, freed by the wealth of oil, can spend time on the arts and engineering that they never had time for before.

I look forward to seeing their creations. I think Dubai is a stunning example of what’s possible. Its architecture is a dazzling illustration of what the future holds.

But let me revert to the concept, artistic creation out of what? Surrounded by sand and small rocks, the rare tree, artistic creation out of what. Perhaps the people were simply not innovative enough to create from what they had. I mean after all the ancient Egyptians managed to create out of just rocks, right?

Artistic creation out of what.

And that there is the magic of Petra. In a land where all that existed was sand, rocks, and the walls of the hills, the people of ancient Jordon created functional works that catered to their need for shelter from the heat, and they created them from the walls of the hills.

OK, that sounds like they found some caves.

But no, they carved elaborate buildings into the soft sandstone of the rock like hills to form a city unlike any other in the world.

Can you believe it? Carved from the landscapes stoney walls, an elaborate building of colonnades and figures.

I think that this is proof, wherever man is found, if mere survival is supported, art will sprout, as if from a thaw.

The word “building” actually wrong. What is found in Petra is really quite the opposite. It is a deconstruction. To build is to create by assemble of parts. This is to create by disassembly of parts. So far as I can recall, it is unique in the world for this. It is a structure of shelter
by disassembly. There are a few other works by disassembly, Mount Rushmore comes to mind. But I cannot think of another elaborate work of disassembly for shelter and functional use.

This “building” is called the treasury. It is known by the western world for its cameo in one of the Indiana Jones films. (Notice the obligatory presence of a camel.)

It stands, or rather is immersed in rose-colored walls carved by annual ages of flooding rainfall, followed by eleven months of drought.

(Me in the ravine leading to the treasury.)

What shocked and thrilled me, was this building, The Treasury, was not a lone marvel in the Jordanian desert. It is one structure of an entire city carved into the gorgeous veined walls of the hills.

A city, each building ornate.

This people, with nothing, sand, rock, and dead land flourished into artistic geniuses despite only having only the walls of the hills at hand.

I think this is an apartment complex.

This, by far, is on my list of places to see. I often say, I am glad I went, but I would not make an effort to go back.

I would definitely make an effort to see Petra.

I will see Petra again. If ever you find yourself in the Middle East, see the Pyramids and see Petra. I put it above Jerusalem. I have seen many of the ancient cities, Pompeii, Herculeum, Ephasis… and I say again, see Petra. Pompeii, Herculeum and Ephasis are built cities.

Petra is a carved city.

The landscape is actually quite like Zion, in Utah. Tall, iron reddened walls, organically threaded by variations in time, shaped by rare rains.

The rock itself is awe inspiring beauty. My pictures do not do it justice.

My time is running short, and my blog is running long.

In short, unbelievably, knock-your-socks-off, strike you dead, earth shatteringly cool, the ancient city of Petra.

Absolutely nothing stupid about it.

Some more pictures...

The manditory ancient city amphitheater. (I have been to a lot of ancient cities and an amphitheater is a given.)

Name That City

2007-04-04T10:57:00.000-07:00

I am going to describe a city and I want you to guess what city I am talking about.

There are miles of high-end shops, like LaCosta and Coach, and of course who can live without Starbucks, in malls with marble floors. On the streets there are Bentley’s, Rolls Royce’s and Hummers with dark tinted windows.

Do you have a city in mind?

I will continue.

The city is defined by the competition between developers to out do one another. Each building is bigger, grander, taller than the next, each offering one more high end item of special appeal. The city is growing so fast it is mind boggling. It is in the middle of a desert where water is a considerable issue, yet there are often accents of beautiful water intensive landscaping. Air conditioning exists in EVERY building.

Do you have a better idea what city I am talking about?

There are amazing hotels with suites for as much as $15,000 a night. Of course one of those hotel’s has a revolving restaurant on top featuring a buffet which views beyond the spectacle, miles of single family homes which have been build in just the last ten years.

Are you sure you know which city I am talking about?

All the street signs are in English.

Still think you know what city I am talking about?

All street signs are also in Arabic.

Suddenly stumped? I will give you another hint.

I have been there recently.

Now do you know?

My last hint is I mentioned it in my last entry.

Dubai is such a fascinating place I hardly know where to start.

I suppose I will start with the basics. (Imagine me taking on the drone, monotone voice of instructional movies of the past, complete with the ticking sound of the projector.) Dubai is a city of 1.4 million in the United Arab Emirates on the Saudi Arabian Peninsula.

OK, basics done.

The similarities between Las Vegas and Dubai are surprising, aren’t they?

Are they building enough?

Dubai is a lot like Las Vegas, which is ironic, because in a lot of ways it is the antithesis of Las Vegas.

Dubai, overwhelmingly Muslim, limits the sale of alcohol making it only available in very exclusive locations. I seriously doubt any gambling is allowed. There are far more burqas seen than mid-rifts. And there are no sex-appeal ads. (Well… of course there are. It is just that they dare to show women’s forearms. How Risque!)

I love Dubai. It is so culturally rich and fascinating you can taste it, come to think of it, literally. Like any wealthy city there is not shortage of high-end worldly restaurants, but I don’t think you will find any pork dishes.

The one aspect of Dubai that really reminds me of Vegas is the fast, aggressive, competitive building projects constantly in the works. It is notoriously referred to as a construction zone, no area specifically, the entire city. Dubai is currently building, what for some period of time, will be the world’s tallest building, 190 stories. It boasts the world’s only indoor ski slope. (I thought this would be a little bunny hill. It is not. It is many stories high… and a delightful break from the shopping available at that mall. It is that big gray projection out of the side of that mall.)

Its crowning architectural achievement is the Burj al Arab (or Arab Tower). The Burj, a mere 27 stories high, is designed in the shape of a wind-full sail. In the mast area, the entire atrium is open the entire 27 stories. You have seen this building, but perhaps for only seconds as Tiger Woods struck a golf ball off the helipad in some ad, or Agasie played tennis on that same helipad.

The suites in the Burj start at $1700 per night, with the penthouse suite a mere $15,000 per night. It is entirely booked most of the year. To enter the hotel, you need an appointment, usually booked a month in advance. (Hence no interior pictures from me.) And by appointment, I mean reservation, for at very least high tea, which starts at $70.

But all this grandeur must be fueled by something. In Vegas it is gambling. In Dubai, it is oil.
(This is one of the reasons why I like Dubai better. There is no seedy element.)

But it is a strange city made up of almost entirely foreigners. The natives found black gold beneath their feet, you don’t think they were going to pick up a hammer themselves do you?

The city is strikingly India, from all parts, and Pakistanis. There are also noticeable communities from various African countries and many areas of Asia.

Dubai is a promise land for many foreigners. It boasts jobs at all levels and educational possibilities less available elsewhere.

But as a working promiseland, it has a noticeable feature. The men out number the women, significantly. (I don’t know the numbers… but just walking around, you notice more men than women by far.)

And lets talk about the women and their burqas. (If anyone can find out for me why burqa are black… I will be forever grateful. This intrigues me and yet I cannot find the answer.) Dubai, as the most progressive, multicultural apex of the Muslim world, had women in all forms of what I would call, Muslim dress. I have been corrected though. A Muslim man argued that this is not Muslim dress, it is cultural dress. No where in the Koran does it dictate this particular extent of covering. It is Muslim cultural practice (or so was his argument.) I disagree slightly. I think is a Muslim sect practice. Specific garb is also important to the Mennonite Christian sect and the Jewish Hassidic sect.

I think it is naïve for us to want women to abandon this garb. We are imposing our culture on them. Many of them do not want to dress like westerners. They do not see it as freeing. They feel overly revealed. (I am 100% against the eye covering. I think that is just ridiculous, unpractical and makes women subservient.)

I was given the example of going to a nude beach. Everyone there may be nude. But I would not be comfortable wearing nothing. It is not something I am used to. So even though it is perfectly acceptable to be nude, I may choose to stay clothed. If women are more comfortable in their traditional garb, who am I to protest.

As the Middle East moves culturally more to the west, women are gaining the choice. As long as women are free to make their own choice, I don’t care what that choice is.

So let’s say you need a burqa. I walked into something which resembled a WalMart called Carreflours. One of the funnier things, but natural I suppose, is the fact you can by burqas off the rack at this superstore. I guess they have to buy them somewhere. (There were high end burqa stores too.)

In the Carreflours you could pay with at least five different currencies at the checkout counter. (I wish now I had made a note of which currencies.) I naturally paid in dollars. I paid in dollars everywhere I shopped in Dubai, the bookstore, the pharmacy, the department store, etc. No one ever hesitated to accept US dollars. And consider this, how many American’s do you think visit Dubai? Yet they readily, like most of the rest of the world, accept dollars. It is odd.

I spoke English to everyone I encountered and found each person fluent.

I suppose they have to order their Tall Mocha Latte’s at Starbucks too.

Or burgers and donuts.

Cape Town Pictures

2007-03-26T22:40:00.000-07:00

OK, I finally uploaded my Cape Town pictures. (It has only been a month.)

First, the pictures I failed to take. I really wish I took more/better pictures of the fences to illustrate what I meant in my last blog about vicious. Next time.

As if there will be a next time. Cape Town is an amazing place, but I would not go out of my way to get there. And lets be honest, every way to get there is out of the way.

Cape Town's amazing central feature, Table Mountain, with clouds spilling over the top, as seen from the Waterfront.

And the view from Table Mountain, complete with me, to prove I was there.

That, by the way, is what I look like after thirty hours on planes and in airports, at what is four am in my brain, when my hotel room is not ready.

Now some quirky pictures. In every port, there is a defining trinket being sold to tourists. For example, in the Amazon, stuff piranhas are sold, in Venice it's Carnival masks, in Dublin it is all things Guinness.

Well in Cape Town, there are lamps. Lamps, you ask? Yes, lamps. But of course as the representative trinket from Cape Town, there is something unique about these lamps. Decorated by engraving, they are actually ostrich eggs with a bulb inside. Here is a group of them.

And here is one close up so you can appreciate the engraving.

Now onto the strange. The woman who walked into the public bathroom as I was taking this picture surely thought I was crazy. (I mean wouldn't you be weary of someone taking pictures in a public bathroom?) But I had to take a picture of this "sink."

In the bathroom were multiple faucets over one single inclined slab of well polished marble. Water running from the facets ran down the incline to a barely noticeable gap between the splashboard and the slab, the drain. It was just an interesting concept for a sink.

And finally, the choice sign from Cape Town.

Apparently the parking requires commitment.

Coming soon... Dubai.

Cape Town

2007-03-23T23:09:00.000-07:00

Cape Town is a physically astonishingly beautiful but politically and socially troubled. It is clear that life is improving (mostly evident by new building and the maintained infrastructure) but I think it is also clear that it is not improving as fast as the public would like. The upper class is still mostly white. The office workers definitely seemed disproportionately white while service jobs were entirely black. Where I stayed, it was a modern metropolitan area like anywhere in Europe or America, complete with four coffee shops per square block. But outside of town are shack towns of mostly immigrants fleeing bad conditions in other countries.

In my traveling of the world, I have decided there are only two types of places in the world, places people are emigrating from, and the places they are immigrating to. Everywhere falls into one of these two categories. Cape Town is a place people are immigrating to. Many Europeans, experiencing extraordinarily favorable exchange rates and longing the marvelous year-round warm weather, are retiring to Cape Town. Importantly, Cape Town has summer during Europe’s winter, meaning it is a great place for European “snow-birds.”

On the other side is the mass emigration from the rest of Africa. People fleeing social, political, economic or religious problems in their homelands get to Cape Town and learn it is not the panacea. There are so many more immigrants than jobs that many places post in their windows “No Jobs,” meaning they are not hiring and people should not ask. Jobless and penniless, they build shack towns out of debris where there is space, outside of town. Crime is out of control in South Africa, and it is understandable. There is a huge population that is simply hopeless. No money, no jobs, no place to live, no way of feeding themselves, crime seems the only way to survive.

We in California complain and complain about our immigrants. We have no idea how good we have it. In the end, our immigrants can find work and places to live. Imagine having an immigrant population that could not work or find a place to live. People think the immigrants would stop coming, but it would be a decade before they stopped coming. They would simply be a drain on the economy instead of contributing to it. That is the lesson of South Africa. Immigrants who can work, feed themselves and pay for shelter are less of a drain on the social system than immigrants that cannot. The immigrants are coming either way.

The crime has yielded an odd utilitarian art form in South Africa, if you can call it that. I have never seen so many different types of fences that could be described, in a word, as vicious. The fences were designed in two categories: rip you to shreds or impale you. I only saw a couple fences that tried to obscure their purpose with decorative design. I now thoroughly believe, you can judge a place by its fences.

On a completely different note, the hotel I stayed at had the strangest elevator system I have ever encountered. In the elevator, there were no buttons, none. Outside the elevator, there were a lot of buttons. Instead of pressing up or down before boarding the elevator, there was a panel where you pressed the exact floor you wanted to go to. The panel would reply with Elevator A, B or C. If it said Elevator A, when Elevator A arrived, you got on. Once in the elevator, you pressed no buttons (as there were none). The elevator, knowing from the panel which floor you were going to, would stop on the floor you had pressed on the panel. If you changed you mind and wanted to go to a different floor, well you were out of luck. You had to go to your prescribed floor or the floor that someone else had predestined the elevator to stop at prior to their boarding the elevator. The whole idea was just odd.

Cool: The beauty of Cape Town and basic things that are totally different, like elevator controls.
Stupid: How difficult striving for a better life can be.

Cartagena

2007-03-10T23:46:00.000-08:00

(I wrote this post on Columbia a month ago. I am in Kenya today.)

Cartagena was a surprise. Everything I know about Cartagena, Columbia I learned from the movie Romancing in the Stone (Kathleen turner and Michael Douglas, 1984) or from CNN reports on Columbian drug lords.

Its poor reputation was not improved by things I had heard from crew members who had been there, mostly relating to crime.

So why on earth was our ship making this miserable stop?

Because Cartagena is beautiful.

It has two primary attractions, the old city and the fort. The fort is by far the biggest stone military installation I have ever seen. I have been to castles around the world, and this fort out sizes them all by many times. It is huge. I did not have time to more than drive by it, so its grand size is all I can comment on.

The old city was an architectural delight in a style I will call brilliant new world fusion, emphasis on bright colors and architectural elements from wherever the builder felt like.

The result was ornate wooden balconies hanging below tile roofs and above hard stone walls. Somehow it all melded together into a Mediterranean-style warmth.

It was so perfect and so attractive, even in being random, that when someone said “This is like Disneyland” I understood what they meant. It was perfect, bright and colorful.

There were certain consistencies. The natural color of wood was prized and the ornate posts of the wood balconies were all the same. The colors, while of every element of the rainbow, were all equally bright. Bougainville of every color seemed to climb some portion of every building.

(I love sundials.)

I get in trouble with my co-workers regularly for saying, "It looks just like Santa Barbara." But the next picture really does look just like Santa Barbara.

In fact, it makes me think of the Wells Fargo Building on Figeroa and Anacapa, in Santa Barbara. After taking the picture, I tried to find something to prove that it is actually not in Santa Barbara, but I couldn't. So you will have to take my word on it.

All in all, Cartagena goes on my list of places I am glad I have been to, would like to go to again, but will not be a singular destination point, unless the politics change.

Cool: The beauty and surprise of Cartagena
Stupid: The politics and crime that prevent it from being the glorious destination its beauty deserves.

There Was A Superbowl?When?

2007-02-10T17:28:00.000-08:00

Out here, on the ship, with only movies from a video locker and a couple news channels, we are completely ignorant of current media culture.

I have no idea what TV shows are popular and probably would not even recognize show names. I have no idea what movies have come out or are coming out. I don't know any of the celebrities.

Now people who know me, will say this was always true. I was never in turn with media culture. This is true. But it is simply impractical to even try to stay in the know out here. I would have to run ashore in English speaking ports and buy the relevant magazines, People, or whatever.

So, the Superbowl took place in Miami. I found this out the day of the Superbowl. (It clarified why my mother, who lives in Miami said the place was shut down for Superbowl, three days before the event. Before that I thought, "Gosh, I really doubt the Dolphins are playing. Why does Miami care about the Superbowl?")

It was the Bears and the Colts. I still have no idea where the Colts are from.

Perhaps more poignant, I am not even sure who won. Seriously.

The 560 people I live with consist of about 30 Americans and only Americans pay any attention to the Superbowl. Of those, assume 20 had to work during the Superbowl. The other ten were hardly aware it was going on. It was not as if we have been exposed to the three weeks of media hype.

As I chat with friends online since the game, people make references to commercials I have not seen, and may never see.

Out here we are completely removed from media culture, and since I am from effectively a media culture, that means I am completely removed from my culture.

It makes for a very strange isolation.

Not that I am complaining.

This is a picture from St. Kitt's yesterday. (I think it looks startlingly like Ventura, but people say I always say places look like home.)

Being removed from the shared experience of media culture is isolating. But look at the picture above, which would you choose?

Wonders Never Cease

2007-01-30T04:48:00.000-08:00

The things that get lost in the mail, I will never understand.

The things that make it through the mail, are even more amazing.

The following piece of mail, with no "to" address, made it from Santa Barbara, CA, to Miami, to our Port Agents office, to our ship, to my office, as intended.

And for which, with happy ears, I am grateful. (Thank you for the music Sean.)

St. Barts

2007-01-25T03:18:00.000-08:00

There are certain things that spoil you in land life. The ability to just get up and go is one of them.

I like to take walks, along the beach, around the neighborhood, and hikes up the foothills by my home.

On my ship, this is just not as easy and walking out the door. But it offers something home can't.

Yesterday, the ship was in port from 8-6. I work until noon and have off until four. So at noon, I boarded a little tender boat for the twenty minute shuttle ride to the port.

Now what. Every day a new port. It is not like I can hike that trail I like so much. First I have to find a trail. And who knows if there are trails to be found?

So I walk around town. With an excellent feel for towns and their layouts, from many trips to many different cities, and with luck, I found myself, yesterday, on a steep road to the highest point of St. Barts.

St. Barts is like Santa Barbara, foothills by the sea, a lot of the same vegetation, but with more humidity, a quaint French corridor feel and wealth oozing from its perfectly sculpted, pampered, bronzed pores. You see small cars, smart cars, atvs and vespas sharing the roads. Restaurants with signs boasting interesting fusions, French BBQ and Santa Fe Caribbean.

I love the turquoise, pink, sky blue, earthy orange, mint green houses adorned with white shutters and terra cotta colored, slate-styled roofs. Bougainvillea of every color pops out through every adobe style fence, and doors are left wide open to revealing hearty style, slightly weathered wood furniture.

These are all thoughts I had this morning… and took absolutely no pictures of yesterday.

I sit here, in the Palm Court, deck 11, watching our slow arrival to St. Kitts, appreciating the sunrise and appreciating my sore legs from my walk to the top of St. Barts.

I miss being able to walk out my door at any time and just take a walk, like I can on land.

On the other hand, it is cool to step off the ship and have a walk I have never done before, just minutes away, with brand new sites to see.

That is my ship far away.

Cool: Brightly colored French-Corridor style homes facing a turquoise sea and a brand new walk, with new sites, just a minutes away from home.

Lost Awe

2007-01-23T03:45:00.000-08:00

(Song: "Everyday is Exactly the Same," By Nine Inch Nails.)

I am getting prodded by more than one person lately about how little I blog lately.

It is an unfortunate aspect of the ever broadening world that the more you see, the more it becomes common place, the less awe it inspires.

I once said to someone, "If I have children, I don't want them to leave the country before they are 18 years old." This was met with European superiority, how stupid I was to entrench the American ways in my children.

That has nothing at all to do with it.

If you are never exposed to the amazing and vast amount of differences, when you finally are, the wonder and awe of every little aspect is intoxicating. But you don't notice the differences unless you are aware of them. I don't want my kids to be accustomed to differences prior to their ability to find wonder in them. I left the US first to go to Canada, which was hardly a change. Then I went to Scotland at age 19.

It was overpowering. Everything, different light switches, cobble streets, street numbering, how to open windows, ordering a pizza (I like margaritas which is a cheese pizza), it is all different. And had I been exposed to all this when I was young, I would never have realized or noticed how amazing the differences are, or thought about why they exist.

I think this has affected my blogging.

As port after port after lame Caribbean port goes by, I am no longer struck or fascinated by the tin drum band on the dock. It is the Caribbean, of course there is a tin drum band on the pier. It no longer strikes me that I can us US dollars in just about every country I stop in. The sun and the sea so blue it refreshes your soul, it is all taken for granted.

The fact that my phone calls have a three second delay, like it is 1940, does not even enter my thoughts while talking.

I went to a pilates class. Pilates are a lot about strengthening core muscles through balancing exercises.

Well the seas were not exactly even, so we got an enhanced pilates workout. You try balancing on your left hip and the ship is rolling a bit. You get all the muscles you are intending to stretch, and a few more thrown in as part of the deal. It didn't really occur to me to mention this in my blog before now, because I accept the rolling of the ship as a normal part of life, not worth mentioning. (I should really start a list of normal things that are not so easy/ more difficult on a rolling ship: shaving, running, pilates, carrying a cup of coffee, keeping you chair (which for some reason is on wheels) close to you desk, walking a straight line, holding down your breakfast, standing in stilettos, grabbing the soap off the shower floor, walking through doorways without hitting either side, finding things you swore you left on your desk, but may have rolled somewhere, like pens and screw drivers.)

Then there is always that morning every now and then when you walk into your office, and everything that was on your shelves is now on your desk and everything on your desk is on the floor, all the drawers are open and your chair is knocked over.

No, this was not someone ransacking the office for the diamonds you keep in the second software book from the right, for future reference, it was just a rough night (which does not mean a night out drinking) and you forgot to prepare for it.

Wishing you a day full of awe, wonder and new experiences

And not exactly the same

Power Snorkeling

2007-01-19T18:59:00.000-08:00

This is the process of hugging an electric propeller to your body so you can thrust yourself swiftly through water for the purpose of viewing fish.

Surprisingly, the fish did not seem bothered by the whirring and I wasnt either. It made for a relaxing glide through the water, in case you are too lazy to swim. I understand they come in far more powerful, exciting and thrill-seeking versions than the 'Toys Are Us' one I tried. It was just a nice leisurely stroll through an underwater playground.

Pictures: That is me with two torpedo looking power snorkeling propellers on the left.

This is the gorgeous area where I power snorkeled.

And this is our most recent trip through the Panama Canal, on January 12th.

Christmas Aboard a Cruise Ship

2007-01-14T03:53:00.000-08:00

(so I am a little behind.)

Christmas Aboard a cruise ship is a whirlwind of festivities. From formal parties, to fine dining to gift/card giving, and chocolate everywhere, who has any time to sleep!

The decorations aboard are extensive, and even more so in crew areas than guest areas. (In the crew areas, the decorations are allowed to be garish and as well as classy and festive.)

There is no place for a Grinch.

To work on a cruise ship you have to be a fun loving type. Plus, we, in this order, work, play, drink, drink, drink and eat (and sleep) together. So being felt up on Santa's lap while having a photo taken, though surprising, made for a good laugh.

It has been a great time.

And some pictures. This is Alex and I taking pictures with some of the decorations aboard.

Our lobby this Christmas:

The Panama Canal

2007-01-12T05:02:00.000-08:00

I love the Panama Canal. Perhaps it is just because it is an interesting show to watch as we sail.

But I like it. It is always sunny and lovely and the people in the little trains beside the ship are always friendly.

Anyway, I am terribly as always, behind on my blogging. This is partially because it is so difficult from the ship. But I think I may have gotten a way!

Perhaps more later, perhaps not. We will see.

Happy sunny day from the Panama Canal.

Costa Rica

2006-12-19T06:04:00.000-08:00

I am on vacation in Costa Rica and it is, well, amazing. I realize I used the adjective amazing far to often. But the truth is I have an amazing life. So most of the activities I do and the places I see are amazing, remarkable, incredible, marvelous, spectacular, fabulous.

My trip to Costa Rica was forced by my friend Jana telling me I was going, in an ordering fashion, like that of a friend who knows what is best for you. I said, “What the hell. Why not.” So Jana, from Sweden, has been my travel buddy, really a blessing. You should all be so fortunate as to travel with Jana.

I arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica after a diversion to Liberia…

The city in Costa Rica not the country in West Africa.

The diversion was due to fog which cleared. The incredibly friendly face of Adolfo from the Kabata Hostel was there to great me.

A shameless plug for Kabata Hostel: The Kabata Hostel has an incredibly luxurious feature. A very friendly host family that aims to please in every way. As a starting point, I really recommend it. There is all sorts of information available on Costa Rican possibilities, free internet, rich Costa Rican coffee, and a playful dog and cat. Mauricio, our host, was just that, a host, but a like a trusted friend known for years is a host. He is quite happy to help with plans and arrangements. He is the best. It was a very pleasant way to start and end the vacation. http://www.kabatahostel.com/

The second day, Sunday, Jana and I traveled up to Playa de Coco and found the worst hostel in the world, complete with pink ruffles. We moved across the street to find the perfect $7 a night spot, clean, but for the sand we keep tracking in, I can hear the ocean from my bed (along with a damn rooster which insists on waking me at 4:45 am). It’s fantastic all natural, lacquered wood interior gives it a cabin feel, except for the television.

Monday, I spent on the beach and enjoying the tidepools with sculpins, sea slugs and urchins while Jana took an advanced dive course.

Tuesday, I dove. Nothing eventful in either dive. The visibility was poor, but I wanted to dive. The previous day they had seen huge manta rays at the same location. Unfortnately the visibiliy just turned.

Dinner was all about the plantains. I love plantains. They were delicious.

Wednesday we dove. We even saw a shark which was the highlight. My bcd sprung a minor air leak (a little sand in the wrong place... common enough), and seeing as I have not dove for years, I was very proud of not freaking out. I stayed down until the boys went low on air. I still did not use up as much air as the boys, even with the leak.

The diving visibility wasn’t great so we decided we, Jana and I would use the next day to take a break from diving. It was too bad the visibility turned. All reports from all the divers we ran into raved about the previous week's diving.

This is a picture of some frisky turtles we came up Wednesday.

Wednesday night, we had the most incredible fresh swordfish, prepared beyond perfection, with a tantalizing red pepper sauce. Any swordfish I have from now until the day I die will no doubt be a disappointment in comparison. All together the food has been so good, I salivate at just the thought.

Today we went white water river rafting and then for a canopy tour of the upper elevations of forest. Or so I expected. Actually we went zipping through the canopy. This is the ludicrous act of wrapping some nylon around your legs, strapping it to a pulley and riding the pulley down along a cable strung 250 feet above a ravine at speeds around 30 miles per hour.

I lived.

And by the end, I was no longer terrified. I am glad Jana was with me. She went first. I would have been really sad to loose her.

Cable info:

Me over a ravine:

Me close up:

Jana upsidedown on a zip line.

Traveling with Jana has made the trip. She is so fun to hang out with and talk to. It is important to travel with a pal, mostly for company. But finding the right pal can be difficult. She comes up with great ideas, makes wonderful arrangements for activities, and is just a great pal. It is hard to find a travel partner who is willing to travel on the same budget, wants to do the same things, is willing to try new activities and can go with the flow.

After zipping through the canopy, we then went white water rafting, which had one hysterical element.

Here we are, in the middle of a Costa Rican jungle, an area frequented by white water rafters. There is no sign of any human touch, with one hilarious exception. Every kilometer or so, we would pass a rickety wooden sign on the side of the river, reading, “Emergency Exit.” We didn’t bring the camera, but boy I wish I had a picture of that scene.

The river was great. It was a great starter water set. It was a bit cool, but it was refreshing in the heat.

I lost my guide over one of the rapids. How funny is that! (By lost I mean he feel out of our little double kayak.)

My guide didn’t speak English at all, until we got to a spot with a bunch of iguanas enjoying the sun. He said, “Tastes like chicken.” I suppose that is an important three words of English to know.

And the one little thing I love about Jana, is this funny noise she makes when I bring her coffee in the morning. I can’t seem to sleep past the roosters. So I venture for coffee rather early and bring her back a cup. You would think I was bringing her back the most adorable puppy in the world. She gets so happy. She never expects it, she always appreciates it and that makes bringing it worthwhile.

A plug for Summer Salt Dive shop: We spent a lot of time at the Summer Salt dive. Asside from being a good dive shop, they were a great group of people. We went out for dinner with them a couple of times. I want to thank Lucia again for being a spectacular teacher, Doug for being a hysterical comedian and Juan Carlos for being so exceptionally helpful. They not only provided for safe dives, but a fun and friendly atmosphere. http://www.summer-salt.com/

This is a candid shot Juan Carlos, Doug and Lucia from Summer Salt dive shop:

And me on the dive boat:

Stupid: Leaving, and paying the departure tax to do it. (Yes, that is right, you have to pay tax to leave!) Despite being in Costa Rica, the tax was expected to be paid in American dollars. Don't have American dollars? Then there were atms dispensing American dollars, in Costa Rica, for your easy withdraw. American dollars are the currency of the world.

Cool: The great and friendly people we met. Thank you Lucia, Doug, Juan Carlos and Mauricio.

Cool: Costa Rica. If you are outdoorsy, try it. It was a blast.

It’s Lonely Being Unique

2006-11-22T08:58:00.000-08:00

Cool: My amazing life
Stupid: The resulting isolation

Before I get started, I would like to emphasize my appreciation of my amazing life seeing the world. It is definitely my choice. I can’t imagine life any other way and I am thankful continuously.

But it is lonely.

I am not lonely on the ship, with 650 of my closest friends all of us seeing the world together.

But coming home is surprisingly lonely. It is not just the lack of twenty people at my breakfast, lunch and dinner table and constantly running into people in every city I go to in the world.

It is the fact that I have nothing to say to people now that I am home. People talk about TV shows and current affairs which I have no knowledge of. I can talk of cities, places and sites that they have no knowledge of. In some cases, my sharing a casual experience about the ten year old girl playing the accordion on the train going to Rome is treated as if I am bragging, instead of being what it actually is, at least for me, just a run of the mill story about being on the train the other day.

A while back a woman who worked aboard told me about this problem. She would go home and no one really wanted to hear about her travels nor could they relate. I thought she had the wrong circle of friends. But that was not it. When two of my friends are talking about their cars and repairs, I no longer can relate. I don’t have a car most of the year. I don’t think about repairs. They may talk about this awesome new restaurant they found and if I chime in with the awesome restaurant I recently discovered, the fact that it is in Venice seems to ruin the conversation. “Last month when I was in Croatia…” just seems to create glazed eyes.

Then there is the trickle away of friends. Out of sight, out of mind, slowly forgotten. It is not just that every time I return to Santa Barbara I have once less friend living in town. It is also that every time I return, people just aren’t as interested in seeing me after six months away.

I think for a lot of people it is hard. They ask me what I have done in the last five months. I say Croatia, Turkey, Greece, Italy, Monacco, etc. I ask them what they have done, and they say, “Same ol’ same ol’.” It is as if I am rubbing my life style in their face.

So, now I find it more comfortable to simply say, “Work as usual,” and down play the awe found in so many places all over the world.

If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?

If you lead an incredible life and no one wants to hear it, is it really incredible?

ABSOLUTELY.

Incredibly cool.

But not being able to relate in the usual casual conversations, is a bit, well, stupid, and lonely.

Tunis Had A Thing For Doors

2006-11-17T07:41:00.000-08:00

One of the oddities you notice in traveling extensively is the existence of a cultural gradient.

Things change over distance. Except in extreme cases (such as along the German border during the cold war) cultures fuse from one to another rather than change abruptly at a line. Its akin to the geographic changes, mountains rarely border flat land; they border foothills, and then rolling hills, and then come the flatlands.

Take for example, I don’t know why, but a Brooklyn accent. A person who grew up outside the Brooklyn City line by thirty feet will still have a Brooklyn accent even though they did not technically grow up in Brooklyn. After all, it is just an arbitrary line.

All matters of culture are this way. In traveling extensively, I have had the privilege to see the strange mergers and transitions.

For example, Turkey despite being over ninety percent Islamic, uses Latin script not Arabic. There simply cannot be a line in the sand where European culture ends and Islamic begins. There must be a bridge, and that is Turkey, nestled between Europe and Middle East with cultural aspects taken from both.

I bring this up for Tunisia. This strange merging was clear in Tunisia. Tunisia is in North Africa and is very much culturally confused. It is for all intents and purposes a culturally Middle Eastern country. It has a traditional Middle Eastern medina, which is a twisted maze of narrow alleys serving as the market place with vendors in all its nooks. I was there during Ramadan so, in keeping with Islamic tradition, no eateries were open. On the other hand, the nooks sold Nikes and clothing like what you would find at any American shop targeted at teenage girls. The newspaper stands sold Cadbury chocolate. Little kids, both boys and girls ran around in school uniforms. And most striking, the county speaks French!

It is very strange to be in a middle-eastern style bazaar (shopping district)where you are being hostilely solicited to purchase things, in customary Middle Eastern fashion...

Except the solicition is IN FRENCH!!!

(It was a French protectorate for 75 years).

That is just so wrong in my mind I can hardly handle it. It is kind of like, if you can imagine, going to a baseball game where all the chanting and announcements are in German. The whole city was confused, with its European style streets and signs and cars driving through corridors where people are selling produce from boxes on the ground.

It was clearly a city with a split personality between European and Middle Eastern.

In the Middle Eastern/European blend also found in Turkey, women dressed conservatively. Shirts covered all the way to women’s wrists and very rarely did collar deviate from the neck line. But as in Turkey, I wore a knee length skirt and a t-shirt without any notice from the local people. One of the most endearing thing I noticed was the teenage girls. Remember how I said that the some clothing in the medina resembled any western style clothing store. Well western style teenage girl clothing has a ridiculous level of emphasis on cleavage and is remarkably revealing. This does not fall into the acceptable realm of Middle Eastern/European conservative blend. So the girls just layer up. They where all the crazy styles found in Wet Seal and other western clothing stores… but in layers such that they conform to Middle Eastern/European conservative dress standards. I found this to be endearing. Teenage girls are teenage girls. It is still all about the clothes.

Anyway, once of its amazing charms was its infatuation with ornate doors. I mean the door were out of control.

The small circular black points are rounded head bolts. Then you will notice two symetrical round knockers toward the top of the door. The lower looking asymmetrical knocker is a door knob. It will be clearer below.

This one has a couple mail slots.

This is a great illustration of how the doors were actually opened. All the doors in this shape had mini-doors. That is why there are offset knobs. This one also has a mail slot.

These two doors are kind of close up. The streets were so narrow; I could not get any further away. (I literally took these pictures by placing my camera against the opposing wall and myself standing beside the camera, not behind it.)

In this one you can kind of see the outline of the mini-door. The door is actually lopsided. It is a very old building. In this one, all the black accent points are rounded head bolts. (Having just painted my front door myself, perhaps inspired by these pictures, I cannot even begin to imagine what a pain in the ass painting a door around all those bolts in it is. It explains why in the photo above, the bolts are just painted over.)

Lastly, this door is a less common style because it is not rounded at the top. The similar tile work around the door though was fairly common.

And for reasons I never understood, they only came in blue and yellow.

There was also this stunning building. I have no idea what it was. Much like its schizophrenic linguistic cultural nature (French/Islamic), its buildings are likewise, with some very European and some very Islamic. This building in my mind is the perfect Middle Eastern building.

And finally mister swaby guy. He, and his friend who is not shown, were protecting some building. I know mister swaby did not grow up anywhere near the Punjabi region of India, but he none the less really reminded me of that guy, ‘Punjab,’ from the movie Anne.

So, I have some sort of fun homework for you. In your day ahead, consider the fusion of cultures you encounter. Traveling is fun, and I love it. But you don't have to go far to see the fusion of cultures. Traveling opens your eyes to it.

Personally, I am going to the California Pizza Kitchen for lunch where I can have a Kung Pao Pizza for lunch.

Cultural fusion is everywhere. Look in your own backyard and enjoy the charm.

Home, Contentedly

2006-11-16T07:52:00.000-08:00

In traveling I often doubt my choice to stay in Santa Barbara with so many wonderful less expensive places in the world, closer to family and friends, such as my sister’s wonderful place in North Carolina.

But I needed only to board the plane to Santa Barbara to know that Santa Barbara is home.

It is not only the place, which is stunning, but the people. I boarded the plane with an exuberant band of strangers, all good humored about trading their last twenty-four hours of delightful vacation and dreadful air travel mishaps.

But just the noise of all the commingled voices said one thing, a mass of happy, laid-back, go-with-the-flow people.

As I sit here on the plan, I wonder and question whether I am projecting my happiness at going home on this random bunch of people.

But my neighbor, the passenger aside me just interrupted my ponderances with some friendly conversation about the people on the flight.

I have been on a lot of flights in the last week and a half.

Nice to Heathrow
Heathrow to Boston
Boston to Charlotte
Charlotte to Greenville (NC)
Greenville to Charlotte
Charlotte to Las Vegas

And at the moment, Las Vegas to Santa Barbara (for me twelve hours late).

Six flights, and the tone and feel of this flight is different. Not because I am going home, but because a little bit of home greeted me here.

I had more thoughts, but I spend the rest of the flight chatting with the lovely woman beside me.

Having been here a day now, I remember it is not just the 78 F (24 C) weather in November but the real Aloha feel of the people in Santa Barbara that I love. I have talked to my neighbors, my pharmacist and even the woman at the 7-11. They all know me and welcomed me home, after five months away. I have played with other people’s dogs running free and happy at the beach. I took a five mile walk along a stretch of beach where, in the entire five miles, I only saw six people. I have sat at a green light, quietly, patiently along with others, while the person ahead of us played with their radio unaware of the light change. I went to visit someone and walked through their wide open front door only to find they were not home and would not be for six hours.

"Mmmm," contentedly, "Home."

Off to enjoy the sun…

Here is a picture from yesterday:

Out The Window

2006-11-10T05:25:00.000-08:00

My life is a strange one. I awoke the other day convinced I was in the Amazon (where I was in February) only to be surprised by the view out my window, which was of Sorrento Italy rather than Brazilian rain forest.

This morning dawn breaks over a large pond spotted by waking ducks and geese occasionally orating with an annoyed honk. It is a warm November morning, in North Carolina, over a glassy pond, lined with green grass, sprinkled with evergreen needles and small inconspicuous summer homes.

I have always had a weakness for the south, with its warm weather, warm light and year-round vegetation. The south has a charm I have always found appealing… but about 1 billion zillion inhabitants, of the small buzzing variety, that I don’t.

In America, we move. We move across town, across the state, across the country. Perhaps, unlike Europe, because it is so culturally similar, we find it easier to just pick up and go.

I remember when I was little my mom had friends all over the country, and that seemed very odd to me. How did all these people wind up all these places? And in my five year old mind, where friends were a dime a dozen, why bother keeping in touch with all these people so far away if long distance calls were soooooo expensive?

Between my sisters and I, just counting since we each turned eighteen, twelve years ago, we have lived in Santa Barbara, Philadelphia, Oklahoma, Mississippi, Miami, Hanover New Hampshire, New Bern North Carolina, London and Edinburgh Scotland.

In the past few days I have visited each my sisters, one in Hanover and now the other in North Carolina. I love them both incredibly. I see they are both lonely in the small towns they have been lured to.

I want one of those transporters from Star Trek where in a heart beat you can travel to the far regions of the world, Santa Barbara to Hanover, in a moment just for coffee.

I worry, and know, that my sisters and I are unlikely to live in the same state, time zone, or possibly even country ultimately.

I love to travel, but there is nothing like hanging out in front of the television with your sister.

So as I sit her enjoying dawn on the pond, cool are all the places I have been and stupid is being able to take my sisters with me.

Since I am on vacation, I plan on making up for lost entries. (The integral word in that sentence is 'plan'.)

Venice Erotic Art Museum

2006-10-15T06:59:00.000-07:00

Before I entered the Venice Erotica Museum, a blog thought crossed my mind, namely as taboo as erotica is, I would never admit to having gone to the museum let alone publicize my trip in my blog.

What changed my mind? The quality and truly tasteful nature of the museum, the fascinating historical exhibit and the incredible intellectually stimulating art. (OK, maybe stimulating wasn’t the best word choice.)

A quarter of the museum was Venetian history beginning with the first anti-prostitution law in Venice on October 10th, 1266. It covered historical sexual topics in Venice from 1266 until now, topics such as the perception of homosexuality through various positive and negative phases and prostitution’s open and shadowy cycles.

In a lot of ways it illustrated the entrenched dichotomy of the city between staunch Catholicism on one side and the more gluttonous sinful nature of the citizenry in stories of madams, casinos, houses of ill-repute and their famous clientele.

I liked the history of Venetian homosexuality. I remember in ninth grade learning about the island of Lesbos, from which the word lesbian comes. The school I attended did not censor our young eyes. I changed schools after that year, and from Rome to modern times, it was as if, in my historical education, homosexuality vanished from the earth. The existence of homosexuals throughout history is overlooked in education and seen as inappropriate, perhaps with the exception of Oscar Wilde who we can hardly ignore.

Homosexuality existed throughout human history and had an impact on our history. The impact is sometimes bizarre though. Fearing that Venice was headed into moral disrepute due to a climb in homosexual preference, the city actually built bridges with gaps, so men could look up, when passing beneath the bridges, and see up woman’s skirts. During this same period, prostitution was actively civically encouraged in the belief that with access to women, men would not become homosexual.

Historical medical documents were also on display such as Ninomania (Nymphomania) published in 1775 which said one of the causes of nymphomania was a cold wife. Another book on display, Onanism published in 1758 was regarded as the first text to assert that masturbation was a disease that could cause homosexuality and various afflictions.

The museum had a number of pieces dedicated to famous love stories from history. All of which I found so poignant I quickly forgot them all. (Venice is romantic enough; you don’t need to read love stories.)

There were also pictures of all the ‘hidden in plain sight’ erotic art around the city of Venice. There are graphic placards and reliefs in the most religious artistic displays of the city which I would not describe as erotic, but just plan pornographic. It is amazing that St. Mark is depicted just a few feet to the right of one particular display. (Can’t get your teens interested in the artistic value of St. Mark’s, get them to go looking for the porn hidden in the art.)

This was my favorite piece in the museum. It is attractive to look out and in an instant conveys a modern, salient point with dramatic clarity. Much of Julian Murphy’s work was of this intellectual caliber.

This is another piece, selected at random, to give you a taste of some of the works of art.

Cool: A surprising fascinating museum of the beaten path in Venice.

30 in Monte Carlo

2006-10-01T14:48:00.000-07:00

I turned 30 in Monte Carlo.

Work has been crazy hectic, so I have not written much.

But here are some pictures from the day before my birthday.

Me in front of the famous Monte Carlo Casino.

Monte Carlo Casino

Monte Carlo Harbor

This is my ship. The colorful pattern in the foreground is a helipad. As if to accentuate the money in Monte Carlo, not even a helipad can be regular concrete.

Helicopters are a recurring them in Monte Carlo. In case you need to get anywhere, it is good to have your trusty helicopter on your yacht. (This is not as uncommon as you think. We see this frequently in warmer ports.) The arrow points to a helicopter on the back of a yacht.

So where do you take the helicopter on the yacht too? Well to lunch of course. Check out the restaurant valet in front of this outdoor cafe.

(Ok, actually it is just a display helicopter for sale. Kind of like cars you see at malls sometimes.)

This is a harbor shot of Monte Carlo from the ship.

The day after my birthday I went to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I am a sucker for historical science and engineering. I don't really know why but I love this stuff. So the Leaning Tower of Pisa was a real highlight for me. It was built over a two hundred year process, and for the last 800 years everyone has been trying to fix the lean. I am very glad I got to go. There is also a Baptistery on the site. It, like the Leaning Tower and the adjacent cathedral, leans as well. The Baptistery is a round building with a dome ceiling. It is like the biggest and best shower in the world! The sound resonance strikes you dumb.

This woman walked into the center of the Baptistery and sang a single note. After she sang the note, the sound continued to resonate richly. She then harmonized with herself on another note. She did this for several notes. It sounded like a perfectly harmonized professional chorus of 140 people singing various pitches. It was if I was sitting in the best acoustical location in a major musical performance hall. I imagine a choir at the Sydney Opera House. Considering the extensive sophistication of acoustic architecture currently, this thirteenth century structure is a marvel.

Anyway, me at Pisa, to prove I was actually there....

Clues To Where You Are

2006-09-08T00:21:00.000-07:00

Look around you and see the things. They hint to where you are. The shape of four walls, the color of carpet, or things on a shelf, they all give you clues to where you are.

I have an office, and many things in my office tell me that I am in my office. Unlike most rooms in the world, this tells me nothing of where I am on the planet. This same office can be virtually any where on 2/3s of the planet.

Likewise, as I wander through accounting and sales, rarely are there any clues to where in the world Mika is.

Then the other day, like something out of some strange commercial, these little bright yellow boxes seemed to pop up everywhere. They were on virtually every desk.

They were made of heavy-weight high-quality paper with beautiful gold script adorning the top. They were not a proper square box, but rather maybe eight inches by four inches and maybe three inches deep. The bottom was just slightly narrower than the top.

And they were scattered askew, on virtually every desk.

So I asked where they came from.

Apparently, these fine Belgium chocolates were being given out as people left the ship.

Had I known this, I would have left the ship, a lot. I mean many many times. And then again. And some more.

But, anyway, now I know; yellow boxes are the clue that I am in Belgium.

OK, end of that story.

Beginning of next.

So I am sitting on Deck 12, on the aft terrace enjoying a lovely dinner with my co-worker when the ship gets a fly by from an F-16. (I was told it was an F-16. I personally wouldnít know an F-16 if it was sitting in front of me with tall letters on the side saying, "Hi. I am an F-16.") This much I know for shore, um, I mean, sure. It was a jet, with a glass enclosure, wings (which I am sure the pilot appreciates) and it was amazingly fast.

(I mean, they were giving away chocolate in Belgium, of course I would have gotten off the ship!)

Apparently we were cause for some fun at the near by base because they circled us quite a few times. (There were two.) One fly by came amazingly close. The lag between the physical location of the jet and where our hearing would place it was exceptionally long given how close the jets were. The time lag emphasized, and indicated, their significant speed.

So let me recap my dinner. I had turkey, salmon, a lovely cucumber dill salad, a refreshing cold mandarin soup, in Scotland, on the terrace of a six-star cruise ship complete with F-16 air show.

I live an amazing life and am thankful for it everyday.

(And to provide the full genuine Scottish experience, it was 55 F, windy, gray and cloudy and started to rain.)

It was amazing.

End of story.

Brief interlude, who wouldnít get off a ship for Belgium chocolate?

Beginning next story, though, it is not really a story so much as a comment.

Shaving in the bow of a ship on moderate seas takes considerable talent. Just thought you would like to know.

End of comment

Next story.

I attended my sisters wedding this weekend, which was perfect. (In case you are unaware, I feel the specifics of my personal life are not for my blog, so no further details of her incredible wedding here, except for humorous story bits.)

So, as I live on a ship, shopping for the appropriate wedding wear is a bit difficult. (Though apparently all you have to do for chocolate is get off in Belgium.)

I sent an email home to my sister requesting black sandals, size seven and a half, with a 1.5 inch heal or more.

What I got was three inch stilettos, patent leather, and a style any dominatrix would appreciate.

Now, as a married woman, I somewhat expect that my sister will try to marry me off.

I thought she would at least wait until she was married. I had to walk up the aisle with those shoes on, and even the groom noticed them and comment on them. (You know something is up when a man notices shoes.)

It is not quite the image I would choose to give potential suitors.

I feel bad actually. My sister busy planning her wedding, ran out and got exactly what I said, "sandals, size seven and a half, with a 1.5 inch heal or more." I am sure they looked great in the box. (We are different sizes so she did not try them on.) Everyone laughed about the shoes, and I donít think she took it in the good humor way it was intended.

I got a great story out of it though, so I very much appreciate the dominatrix brideís maid shoes.

Stupid:
o 3 hour security lines at Heathrow, this is nothing like a free box of chocolates
o Lost luggage, especially when the actual suitcase was not yours
o The airline saying they have no record of your tickets and requiring you to pay again
o Your credit card getting mysteriously declined when forced to pay again for tickets you already paid for, twenty minutes after the plane was to leave.

Cool: Fortunately the second card was accepted, the plane was delayed an hour, and my luggage with my brideís maid dress made it on that plane. (It was the return journey the luggage was lost.)

And a recap:

Cool:
o A mysterious rash of yellow boxes which indicate we are in Belgium
o An F-16 dinner show
o My finely honed shaving skills
o My sisters amazing wedding and, the humorous dominatrix brideís maid shoes

This entry is dedicated to Kathy De La Cruz, who inspired me today, and also to all those bright yellow little boxes in the world, especially near Belgium.

Images Of A City

2006-08-15T21:43:00.000-07:00

There are things in places one never expects. Here are images of a city; and I have a challenge for you, guess the city.

A beautiful pink building with incredible white accents and strong square white columns, I so wish I could name the shape of the windows. I love the combination of curves and straight lines.

This overly ornate building displays a consistent contrast of this city to say most modern cities. Rather than austere gray granite buildings decorated with equally ornate flourish, this one boasts vibrance, in blue brick.

And a close up in of the detail:

This building is just plain confused and yet surprisingly attractive. A bright dirty yellow, it could be in Santa Fe. The color is unexpectedly similar to the natural color of the stone in Athens, hence the relief seems fitting; it relief could easily be 2200 years old and in Athens. Yet the relief on the rounded structure is so contrary to the straight lines of Athens. The square flat windows and cheap black railing, kill an otherwise interesting fusion of designs. The flat roof is also an odd choice.

And another blue brick building, the color quite similar to the color found on Catherine’s Palace in St. Petersburg. In black and white, one would quickly assume was in New York. Imagine if it had a personality, it energetically rebelling against the austere nature of such conformity. This building too has the ridiculously elaborate facade.

The same building, close up. Notice the fantastic combination of a round window so seamlessly within straight lines. The curved balcony is such an easily over looked feature which is critical, or it would simply be too much. Just the window and balcony alone could be in any modern building, but found in such a crazy traditional building, and to be so well infused, it is just amazing.

Again, ornate beyond belief, with large faces and for a change wicked spires, the color seems contrary to what looks like a bit of a scary building. This building displays the city’s theme of animated color on a traditionally styled building, ornate facade, curved windows and straight lines.

The same building, the roof line up close. She looked like Lady Liberty. I can’t help but notice that all these building, unlike again New York, have perfectly maintained façades which are sparkling white!

Any guess of what city this is? What is most remarkable about the above buildings, is most are on the same block. The architecture is consistent throughout the city.

This next picture is taken of a stairwell looking up. Notice the asymmetry of the shape. If not for the beautiful paintings on the ceiling, I am not sure the asymmetry would be so beautiful. The stairs were a hard stone, contrary to the soft color of the ceiling. The brown is the banister and the gray design is actually the railing. I believe this was in the Rozental Architecture Museum.

I just plain liked the dragons standing guard of this entry way. It is such an unnecessary detail which adds such a rich flavor.

So what age do you think the city is?

I will change you beliefs now with this modern building standing like a sail beside a modern bridge. The bridge and modern building are walking distance from all the buildings shown above.

Think it is a modern city?

And I will shatter those beliefs with a 500 year old church, unusual for its open cupola.

This city has a benefit that most European city’s cannot boast. It was nearly untouched by either World War. This all the buildings above, late nineteen century early twentieth stood, unlike many of their likes built throughout Europe.

The city is Riga in Latvia. Latvia is again a country I never expected to see and I am glad I have. It has a surprising art community. Riga has a charming small canal lined by a part on either side running through the center of town. It is gorgeous. The buildings are surprisingly eclectic which I imagine in the ten below winters are the only warmth that can be found outside.

Latvia is a transition spot between Russia and Europe, and a member of the European Union. They note of their ancient to pre-soviet seafaring trading relations with all nations in the Baltic.

The country boasts its quiet peaceful transition from the Soviet era to current freedom. Perhaps its colors are a rebellion to Soviet discipline, perhaps it is a strive for the warmth of the Mediterranean, perhaps it is an aim to emulate the colors of Russian nobility.

It uses the Latin font as opposed to the Cyrillic found in Russia. The language is Latvian which does not resemble the Russian language. The two million inhabitants all learn English as part of their education. (I am so appreciative of the English Empire, the winning of the Second World War, and the invasion of Hollywood for getting the rest of the world to speak English so I can be a lazy and learn nothing.)

Its president is Canadian! How strange is that! But of course, she is of Latvia decent. Her parents were refuges and they were very involved in that ‘famous’ Canadian Latvia community.

Stuck on a Boat in Russia, Again

2006-07-28T10:43:00.000-07:00

Well, I am back in St. Petersberg. Different ship, same parking spot. It is near eleven pm and I just watched the sunset from a deck 13 treadmill. I forgot how disorientating the late and early sun is. Luckily, though sarcastic, my room is very dark. I have a tunnel port hole. By this I mean I have a porthole that looks through three feet of hull before seeing the outside.

It is July 27th, and the high in St. Petersburg today was 63F or 18C. Damn that is cold after being in Mykonos Greece two days ago.

Being on a new ship, of roughly the same design is like being in a fun house. Everything is the same but different. The Officer's Bar, the most important reference, is still deck four midship, but the actual bar is on the aft side instead of forward. The crew office is deck four midship port, instead of starboard. (It is on the left side of the ship instead of the right side.)

The big difference in the ship is the size of the corridors. I know this is a random thing to mention, but that extra six inches makes the entire ship feel larger.

Perhaps most important upgrade is the wonderful cappuccino machine in the O-mess. This makes me very very very happy. For evidence, just talk to me at 7am, post cappuccino.

The strangest thing going on at the moment is the Russian authority's revocation of recognition of the Bahamian Seaman's Book.

To make the long story short, that mean there are over 550 of 650 crew members who are not permitted to enter Russia.

As seafarers we acquire what is internationally recognized as a transient visa, a seaman's book. This book is a formal document issued by the governing body of the ship's registry indicating service to a vessel. Since my first vessel of record was of Bahamian registry, my seaman book is Bahamian. (If I started on a ship of different registry, I would have a book of that registry, Norwegian for example.) The book, the size and shape of a passport, with identification information in the front and pages of contract service stamps, is generally accepted in lieu of a visa as long as the seaman enters as a worker on the vessel of his/her current contract and will leave by the same vessel in a short period of time.

Russia has turned around and simply decided not to recognize the Bahamian Seaman's Book as valid. Thus all crew members with Bahamian Seaman's books need visa. Visa's must be acquired out of Russia, and are a minimum of $100 if you apply six weeks in advance.

Hence, we are all stuck on the ship. It is funny in a cruel sort of way.

Anyway, because of the imprisonment, there is a big party starting in just a few.

Gotta run…

It's Midnight in Helsinki

2006-07-25T14:13:00.000-07:00

And it is still light out.

I would blog more often if I had high speed internet access. It is much easier. (The ship is connected by low speed satelitte.)

So I was in Vienna today talking on the phone to my father. He told me to have some coffee, as Vienna is well known for its coffee. I laughed. I was standing across from a Starbuck's. Somehow I don't think that is what he has in mind. I had dinner at the Starbuck's. (Starbuck's is conquering the world.)I am all for trying the local flavor, but there was no place else to eat at the airport. I had a "New York Style Bagel," a bagel, cream cheese and lox. It was 4.90 euros. The fact that I paid in euros being the only distinction from home.

I left my home ship today, to switch to a different ship. It is very odd to me, to fly from one time zone, +3 Mykonos Greece, back one to Vienna +2, and then to Helsinki, +3. I have never flown through a different time zone just to return to my orginal one.

Anyway. It is the middle of the night and I should sleep... even though it is light out.

Love from Hel
sinki.

PS:
American businesses are invading the world.

I forgot to mention that I am staying at a Holiday Inn and watching CNN. I can buy a Newsweek downstairs. Add that to Starbuck's, McDonald's and all the other American influences.

On the other hand, half the people with cell phones in the world, have a Finnish Nokia. The world is just merging to one culture. (And I appreciate the fact that that culture speaks English. I took a flight from Greece to Austria and Austria to Finland today and both flights had announcements in English. Every person I needed to interact with at all airports spoke English, including the girl at Starbuck's. I realize "New York Style Bagel" does not require much translation, nonetheless our friendly conversation was in English.)

I should sleep... despite the fact it is still dusk at, at 12:40am.

Stromboli

2006-07-11T14:26:00.000-07:00

So, I looked out my window today…

And…

There was an active volcano, wisping vapor.

Stromboli, Italy

Istanbul: A Strange Collision of East And West

2006-07-08T22:58:00.000-07:00

With women in burkas or at very least conservatively dressed, Bath Houses, calls to prayer, mosque spires, and yellow, gleaming, perfectly maintained “TAKSi”s, Peugeots, The Body Shop, United Colors of Benneton, Coca Cola advertisements, and the showing of Rodin at the art museum, western style department stores like Mark and Sparkers, coble stone streets.

Roman aquaducts, dividing four lane bumper to bumper traffic.

Turkish delights everywhere...

Turkish rugs hanging from everything, waiting for a sale,

Arches adorned with deep color designs,

All in all, I did not like Istanbul. I think this is the result of one thing, sales tactics. I hate being sold too and invited in.

In Istanbul as with many of the eastern Mediterranean countries, it is customary for shop attendants and owners to stand outside their shops and verbally offer their wares and invite you in. “Hello Lady. I have beautiful silk for you. You must see. Finest around. Good price. You come in. Come in. Come in.” They can be quite aggressive. This drives me crazy. If I like your stuff I will buy your stuff. If you harass me, I go away, and buy no stuff.

My second trip to the Grand Bazaar, I dressed like a local, meaning black linen pants, sandles, a shirt that had a full closed collar and covered my shoulders. I also left my smile at the door. I walked around with an annoyed look on my face.

The result was mixed. On the one hand very few people approached me or tried to sell me anything. This made my shopping experience more enjoyable. On the other hand, my expression wore on me, I fell into character and I was actually annoyed by the end of the trip. I get annoyed like wandering around pretending to be annoyed. In the end, I didn’t like myself.

Turkey is secular, though 98% of the country is Muslim. They are Muslim the way most of America is Christian, some people go to the mosque, most don’t.

Amongst Istanbul’s claims to fame is being the only modern city on two continents, Asia and Europe. Given that, I guess it is most appropriate that it is a collision of worlds culturally.

OK, pictures:

The Blue Mosque is perhaps the most famous site in Istanbul. It is a central prayer location displaying the finest Islamic architecture and design for god.

Unlike Christianity, the Muslim religion forbids the attempted illustration of god and his profits. Thus mosques interiors are a display of lavish designs rather than picture books of biblical stories.

Me outside the Blue Mosque

The Blue Mosque ceiling:

And the inside of the Blue Mosque, unfortunately I did not get any good pictures of the interior. (In general, getting good pictures was difficult. The Istanbul is busy and snap shots without people crossing in front of you were difficult to get. Hence all the pictures of this entry aren't as good as I would like.) Imagine ornate swirls of vivid blue and red on tile.

The Blue Mosque, as with all Mosques has no seats. Worshipers worship on the ground. The floor is lined with elaborate Turkish rugs. Visitors must dress modestly and remove their shoes to enter. (The result is a mosque that smells like feet.)

Inside the Blue Mosque and everywhere in Istanbul are fountains. This is a fountain in the Grand Bazaar. People stop for water and wash their face.

And in detail

This is just a building I came upon. Many buildings in Istanbul are ornately decorated with blue tile and glass. It is ironic to me that the national flag is red, because the country clearly is illustrated in blue. All designs are blue. The only not blue are the Turkish rugs. They are red, with designs in blue. This is also a good example of the local architecture specifically in regards to the shape of the windows.

Everywhere there were small shops, there were coffee delivery men. They all had the exact same tray and similar shot glass sized coffee cups. They went from shop to shop delivering coffee. (When will Starbuck’s start delivering?)

The above is a standard street scene. The meat hanging on rotisserie skews is shaved for sandwiches on order. On the right is a man with a coffee tray.

My sister should go to Istanbul for a wedding dress. On this one street for literally miles, there was wedding dress store after wedding dress store, all ranging from typical western to more conservative Muslim, where though white and modern style, the woman’s arms, neck and hair are covered as well. Notice the woman in the full burke in the lower left

I wound up on a tour including an ancient church. What you can’t tell from this picture is that it is a mosaic of small tiles.

This is the nave of the same church.

I tried to get a picture of the train station that was the last stop on the Oriental Express. It is a decorative building, now a mauve pink. Unfortunately there is a big Shell Gas Station in front of it. Oh well.

The other item everywhere is the blue eye, an representation of the evil eye concept. It is really a dark blue circle on a lighter blue circle, on a white circle on a translucent blue circle. It comes in magnets, key chains and every imaginable item. I don’t really know the symbolism, but they are everywhere.

I got up at dawn and took pictures of the cityscape from the ship. The first picture is the tourist area which includes a large well maintained park which is why it is so green. The city is surrounded by water and literally cut in half, though link by bridge and ferry, by the straight from the Aegean Sea to the Black Sea. (This is the dividing line between continents.) Hence there are large waterways every where.

This second picture is a better representation of the city in general, packed with buildings, mosques, lined by water

I am not inclined to return to Istanbul, but I am glad I have been. It is a strange transition from European to Middle Eastern cultures.

I admit it; I hate cities. And Istanbul’s metropolitan area is amongst the largest in the world. Perhaps a trip to a smaller town would endear me more to the country. But, in truth I have been to smaller towns, and the damn sales people are just as aggressive. It is a pity this one aspect taints my view so dramatically. But it does.

As always, I am glad I have been.

Stupid: Aggressive sales people. This goes on my major annoyance list.

Cool: The beauty of the Turkish architecture and elaborate painted designs in every archway; the old world charm of a coffee delivery man who sits and chats for ten fifteen minutes in the afternoon as he delivers.

Images of Venice

2006-06-30T12:49:00.000-07:00

There were a lot of street performers. What you can't tell from this picture is that the person is near nine feet tall.

Venice's architecture left nothing to be desired. A fascinating and perfect infusion of Islamic arches in the warm of Mediterranean color.

A three dimensional sculpture of Dali's Dripping Clocks:

There were tons of vendors selling the usual tourist wares, magnets, keychains, t-shirts, postcards, etc. They also sold masks:

Now on to the mildly crude.

Let no item be untouched by art, these are condoms:

And, finally, no man is complete without bikers shorts of David's crotch:

Ports since Venice: Katakolon, Santorini, Samos, Kusadasi, Istanbul, Athens.

Yesterday, I was on the phone with my mother as I walked to the Acropolis. My mother asked me where I was going next.
I answered, "Bulgaria, I think."
She said, "No really, where are you going next?"

Really, Bulgaria.

Cool: The feast of aesthetic pleasure in Venice, from architecture to amazing glass work. It is clear to see Chihuly's roots.
Stupid: The lack of pictures I took of the glass work and the tight narrow ally-like streets with bridges over the abrupt breaks of water between two buildings.

Happy New Contract and Dubrovnik

2006-06-26T14:02:00.000-07:00

(Remember, a contract is your stint at sea.)

New contracts are like new years. They come with resolutions like lose weight, workout more, and for me, keep on my correspondence, which given I have been at sea a couple weeks and this is my first post… well…
I have returned to work and thus have been inundated with material.

The first thing to catch my eye did so at the airport in Zagreb, Croatia. I am washing my hands at a bathroom sink and looking at the stunning beauty in the mirror, when suddenly she morphed into an advertisement for Luftansia.
They have advertisements in the mirrors! It looks like a mirror, reflects like a mirror, and then suddenly tries to sell you a get-away to the Greek Isles! It was stunning; not my reflection, the surprise advertisement in its place.
Coming soon to a mirror near you.

So my contract started with my arrival in Dubrovnik, Croatia. I had a couple hours to see the city, and what an amazing treat.

Old town Dubrovnik is an ancient fortified city on the cliffs of the Adriatic, protected above by towering mountains. It reminded me remarkably of Jerusalem, the streets were lined with stones of the same large rectangle shape, though of a lighter white and shinier stone. The city was a couple large promenades and then a tangled maze of streets so narrow you could touch the opposing walls of the lining buildings at the same time. All sorts of shops could be found in little nooks.

Unfortunately, my jet-lagged photos did it no justice.

The city was very hilly so I took this picture from a high point of a narrow street overlooking part of the city.

This is outside the city walls. Unfortunately the only indication of size is the flag pole at the top. It is really quite big.

After seeing the sights and sleeping some jet-lag away, I joined my beautiful ship.

It is now like coming home and sort of like being the most popular kid in school. I walked through the hallways and everyone greeted me. “Welcome back!” “Hey! How was your vacation?” With a smile, “Gosh they let anyone on board now days….”

It was a relief to be back. I don’t really know how to explain it. I am happy here though. I mean traveling in lovely and I don’t know if I would do it without the traveling. But I truly love being part of such a small, good spirited, hard-working community.

I think I have joined a cult. Brain washing is complete when I start saying, “My pleasure,” which is used instead of “Sure.” (This is part of the corporate training. Yes, really.)

The one thing I have not done since my return is hang out at the o-bar. My beloved o-bar has been transformed from a dark, cozy pub into a loud obnoxious sports bar. Such is the way of life during the World Cup.

In a tight knit community of forty some odd nations, every night there are at least four people rooting for their opposing home teams. (There are two games a night.) The rivalries have fostered boisterous warm-hearted jibes and camaraderie in mutual enthusiasm.

FOOTBALL FOOTBALL FOOTBALL.

I can’t wait until it is over… and I can have my bar back,

Since Dubrovnik, I have been to Venice and Istanbul.

More entries to come…. eventually.

Stupid: Advertisements everywhere (including on your face) and World Cup Frenzy, every fricken night for weeks!!!!

Cool: I may not like the football, but I do like the good nature it breeds in my co-workers. (If only it did so all over the world.)

Very cool: The warmth and comfort of coming home to my shipmates and ship. I am so happy to be home.

Maximizing Profits

2006-06-09T07:50:00.000-07:00

This is a list of prices of things onboard; I am sure you will appreciate the humor.

Chips $0.50
Candy Bar $1.00
Beer (any kind) $1.00
Gin and Tonic $1.00
Martini $1.00
Any alcoholic drink $1.00
Cigarettes $1.50
Premium Wine Glass $2.00
Cappuccino $2.15
Bottle of Finlanda Vodka $7
Excedrin Headache Medicine $7.75

A cappuccino is more expensive than any alcoholic drink, cause you know you will need one the next morning, and headache medicine is more than an entire bottle of vodka... cause you will definitely need that the next morning.

Random Pictures of the Entry:

Anthea riding the croc in the Brazil:

A submarine in Puerto Montt, Chile:

Cool: Kirsten and Chris Anderson's new baby boy Soren Patrick Anderson
Stupid: Lint, I mean, what is it good for anyway.

Didn’t I Run Into You In Russia?No Wait, Rome?Rio! It Was Rio.

2006-06-06T18:42:00.001-07:00

When you live on a ship for long periods of time, there are unexpected alterations to the way your brain recognizes patterns.

For months and months at a time, you see the same people from first thing in the morning to last waking moment of night. Whether you see them at the mess or in the hallways, it is roughly the same 560 people, day in, day out, day after day. I don’t know everyone by name, not even half by name, but I know nearly all of them by sight and those I don’t know by sight still stand out ashore for other reasons (like a t-shirt from an obscure port visited half way around the world, but only a month before).

So whether I am in Buenos Aires or Ushuaia, I run into someone I know at the pharmacy, the pub or any major tourist attraction.

This provides many comforts. If I run short on cash, I know that in a few minutes I will run into someone who can lend me some money. If I need a translator, chances are I will run into a multilingual coworker soon. If I just want to chill out and enjoy the scene, I need only stop into the nearest bar and look for a friendly face. If there are no friendly faces, I can get a drink and wait. Some will show up, usually sooner than later.

The result is, no matter where I go in the world, I run into someone I know… St. Petersburg, to Rio… I always run into someone I know.

When you are voted off the island, evicted, thrown overboard… or some other phrase for vacation, you stop traveling with 560 friends.

When I left the ship, along with 11 of my shipmates, I was sitting in the Lisbon airport in their company. They were headed in all directions, Ireland, Russia, South Africa, Uruguay…

One of them pointed and said… “Hey, isn’t that…” He did finish the question. Of course it was not the shipmate he thought it was. We were the only ones traveling home that day.

But so accustom we had become to seeing someone we knew around every corner, that the mind simply assumed.

For weeks after I got off the ship, I have found this to be true.

Here I am in Santa Barbara and despite near certainty that Andrea is in Monte Carlo with the ship, the thought, “Hey there’s Andrea” popped into my mind with the glimpse of a girl here today.

This trick my mind plays on me, assuming I am recognizing people, is a bit odd. It emphasizes one of the unique charms of working on a ship. No matter where I go when I travel with the ship, I always know someone.

It is something I will miss immensely when I leave this lifestyle. Every city I go to, it like my hometown, with all the friendly faces and shared experiences, though none of the physical familiarity. I know I will travel one day in the distant future, and just find the entire experience lonely.

I find the experience lonely now. I am home. I can spend an entire day shopping and not run into a single person I know.

I look forward to going back home, to my other home, wherever that other home is.

Cool: Being at home with all its friendly faces everywhere in the world.
Stupid: Feeling lonely without those smiling faces.

Random Picture of the Entry:
It is common for ports to greet us with local culture. In the Caribbean there is often a steel drum group serenading our gangway. In Russia there is typically a brass band in old style Russian uniforms. In Brazil, we were greeted by these dancers:

(The background is the ship.)

Sex Over 60

2006-06-01T22:08:00.000-07:00

I was at my friend Jen's parents' house a few days ago. I take her up on her offer to make me a cup of coffee, which I desperately needed.

She pulls out the canister of coffee, opens it and finds coffee grounds with a box of Cialis on top.

There were several things wrong with this, knowing her parents were having sex, knowing they were using Cialis to do it, and just generally keeping the Cialis in the coffee canister.

"When coffee isn't enough to get you all up on special morning... Cialis Coffee."

Actual Headline:
"STDs Running Rampant In Retirement Community; Doctor Blames Viagra"
http://www.local6.com/news/9283707/detail.html?taf=orlpn

Cool: Knowing I will have a sex life in my 60s
Not stupid but OW! My eyes!: Knowing people in there sixies currently have sex lives

The Dark Cloud Over My Head Wherever I Go

2006-05-22T09:35:00.000-07:00

When I left Santa Barbara in January, it was raining.

As I traveled around South America, it rained far far more than it was clear.

When I vacationed in New Hampshire, a state of emergency was declared, there was so much rain.

Now I am back in California and it is raining. It never rains here in May. I looked it up, and the precipitation average in all of May is .2 inches, and is normally in the form of wet falling fog over many days.

But I am here… so it is raining.

I feel like I have been stuck in a damp fall since last December. (There was an exception of two weeks in the Caribbean, which not even my dark cloud could dampen.)

If you know of any drought affected areas who would like to pay my airfare, I would be more than happy to visit.

OK, I am done complaining about the rain. It is time now time to conduct my obligatory complaining about the cost of gas.

Here is a crazy thought. I left in mid-January. I returned in mid-May. Gas is a dollar more per gallon than when I left. Striking, isn’t it?

And I will let you in on a dirty little secret VW does not share. I have been using my father’s cute little 2006 powder-blue VW bug. It has the worst gas mileage of any car I have ever driven. Wait, that is a lie, my Dad used to have a 1973 Buick LaSaber, 455 cc engine, seemingly 18 tons. I think it got 7 miles to the gallon. With the exception of the 1973 tank, the bug gets the worst gas mileage of any car I have ever driven.

It is stretching for 20 mpg. 20 MPG! How the hell does such a new little car use so much gas? I think it is funneling it into another universe. It is the only reasonable explanation I can come up with. (That or maybe the worst aerodynamics known to man.)

OK, review time:
Stupid: Rain Rain Rain Rain Rain Rain Rain Rain Rain Rain Rain.
Cool: Lush green foliage. (But not quite cool enough to justify this much rain.)
Stupid: Cute little cars that get worse gas mileage than huge SUVs.
Cool: The return of my beloved Honda with far better gas mileage.

(I love my car.)

Where have you been?

2006-05-12T04:47:00.000-07:00

Before I left the ship, there was a list of countries going around, nearly 150 listed. The idea was to count how many countries you had been to. I had coworkers who were around 100.

Why did I leave the ship, you may wonder. I am on vacation. I didn’t want to go on vacation. I sort of feel like I was voted off the ship or forced into exile. But everyone is exiled periodically, so I guess it is ok.

Anyway, here is my list as best as I can remember. When you live on a ship, you don’t pay that much attention.

You spend a lot of time saying, “Where are we?”

Followed by “Um, yeah, what country is that?”

Countries visited this year:

1. Antigua and Barbados, aka Wadadli
2. St. Lucia
3. Panama
4. Costa Rica
5. French Guiana
6. Brazil
7. Uruguay
8. Argentina
9. Chile
10. Portugal
11. UK

Last year (excluding ones from this year):
12. Italy
13. Monaco
14. Spain
15. France
16. Netherlands
17. Channel Islands (Bailiwick of Guernsey)
18. Ireland
19. Norway
20. Denmark
21. Sweden
22. Finland
23. Germany
24. Estonia
25. Russia
26. Canada
27. Iceland
28. Poland
29. Belgium

Previous years (exclusion of recent years)
30. Mexico
31. Israel
32. Egypt

I return to Croatia on June 16.

And here is a random picture, me and a penguin in Ushuaia. Ushuaia proclaims itself the end of the world, being it is the most southern city on earth. If you ever go to Antarctica (as I am sure you all will) you will stop at Ushuaia first.

Where your camera has been...

2006-04-23T07:36:00.000-07:00

First, this is just the best picture of life onboard. Anna, a Swed (as if you couldn't tell by looking at her), is showing her viking roots.

She is so perfect; she looks like a beer commercial.

And then there are the other photographs....

If you leave a camera in the bar, it is traditional for the finders to try to get the worse possible shots with the abandoned camera.

I got my camera back, and I think the laugh is on those unfortunate souls who participated in this experiment.

First came the usual drunk photos:

Then it escalated:

You too can get drunk pictures like this... just follow Robb's simple instructions. Robb, an actor onboard coached people on full facial relaxation. Then, after a couple minutes, he had people shake their heads side to side as vigorously as possible.

And the results...

You be the judge.

Salvador, Brazil

2006-04-20T14:00:00.000-07:00

Salvador was a magical place of colors, mosaics and churches. And amazing food.

So without further adu, pictures:

This building’s entry archways are decorated with a cachophony of brilliant color swatches.

This is a sample of the building architecture and color. The street are all irregular stone.

Showing clear Portuguese lineage, the many sidewalks are alternating waves of yellow and black stone, identical to the ones I saw in Lisbon last year.

This picture… just goes under my hysterical moments. This guy, in full native Amazon attire… is walking down a city street talking on his cell phone.

And the whole street without the close up because Mark did not believe it:

And this goes under the heading of artwork from what is at hand. This is a purse and pantsuit made entirely of soda can tabs.

And since you can’t really see it well, here is a close up

Salvadorsodatabscloseup

Salvador is a vertical city. By that I mean the topography is extreme. Parts are at sea level and parts are well over a hundred feet up. The difference between the two areas is one extreme cliff line. And if your walking, the way you get from one area to the other, is by elevator. This is a picture of the elevator.

This is a picture looking down to the roof tops below over the cliffs edge in another area of town.

And to put Isla Vista to shame… I found the best artwork from stuff at hand shop…

This is a windchime made of shot classes.

Full length ones are available as door drapes.

And lastly, proving I am a girl, I bought an awesome purse. The purse is a tight woven basket weeve.

The end. (in other words... I need zzzs.)

Eastover

2006-04-16T17:41:00.000-07:00

You have heard of Chrismakah, now welcome EastOver. And as all good Jewish girls, I dawned a pair of rabbit ears all day for Easter.

The ears extended my height from maybe 5’2 when wearing heels to, I don’t know, taller. How do you damn tall people walk around!? I got my ears caught on everything!!!!

Being 5’2 is way easier. Just for future reference.

Now here is a quiz:

Ship terms:

(For each term on the left there is at least one correct answer on the right.)

1. Swing
I swing.

2. Escort
I escorted in Rio.

3. Double-Up
You want to double-up next cruise?

4. Shower with a Friend
The Captain has asked us to shower with a friend.

5. Reefer Party
Are you going to the Reefer Party?

6. OooLaLah
Hey OoLaLah!

7. Ship’s Bicycle
She is one of the ship’s bicycles.

a) Water conservation efforts are in place.

b) The name of the Geisha onboard

c) Someone who switches between ships as part of their position.

d) A woman who gets around.

e) Someone who guides guest tours.

f) Share a room on a particularly busy cruise for monetary compensation.

g) A bicycle available for rent at the crew office.

h) Refrigeration Engineers Saturday Night Get-Together

Answers: 1c, 2e, 3f, 4a or f, 5h, 6b, 7d or g.

Back from Isolation

2006-04-03T19:20:00.000-07:00

It was bound to happen at some point… I was isolated.

Now before all you people who know me come up with all your wacky theories on why I, humble and plain, would be isolated, I will tell you I was quarantined.

As reliable as the rising sun, large groups of people living in confined spaces, for days at a time, eating the same food will eventually fall ill of a stomach ailment.

Whether it is Norwalk Virus on a cruise ship or the stomach flu at a campus dorm, it is inevitable.

And as it was, after all, inevitable, I was woken, in calm seas with the sudden urge to get rid of last night’s dinner.

And then to make sure I got rid of it every hour, practically on the hour, for hours after that.

So after puking my brains out for several hours I was forced to go to the medical center or face the consequences of missing drill. Missing drill surely would result in something undesirable… though at that moment it hardly compared to the fever, chills, painful puking.

In very little time, some Swedish woman yanked my pants down and gave me a a shot in the ass. She promptly sent away with bottles and tablets. I was told not to leave my cabin until further notice.

For days afterward with every breath I took, I could feel my many taxed muscles I used to vomit.

My laugh was no where to be heard and silence prevailed throughout the ship. (The villagers may have rejoiced but I was passed out.) I was too sore to even laugh.

My cabin is the size of a large prison cell… which progressively shrank over the sentence period of two days.

Banished to my room, with a huge sign on my cabin warning any passers of the dangers within, I mostly slept the days away.

On a ship, where you can hardly spend a minute alone let alone a day, two days seems like an eternity.

And emerging into freedom is bizarre.

It starts with a knock on the door from the hazmat clean up team. She was garbed in plastic and her mouth and nose covered with a surgeon’s filter.

Everything that can be removed and thrown away is.

Everything that can be cleaned is.

And everything else… is just nuked. She comes in with this supersized, pill-shaped device about a foot long on a little stand.

Plug it in and it fumigates away, a thick dusty fog covering everything.

I no longer felt like a freed prisoner so much as a loose bio-terrorist threat.

And then there is just walking down the hall where everyone welcomes back knowing you were puking your brains out a couple days ago. That is a little weird.

I would tell people I was looking for someone else’s cabin sleep in cause I was fed up with mine.

My dad classifies the course of stomach afflictions as follows, first you worry that your are going to die, then you are worried you won’t.

I survived… til now.

Very rough seas are forecast….

Living with 568 People on a Ship

2006-03-20T18:14:00.000-08:00

It makes for some interesting experiences. You have to be there for most of them, but I will try anyway.

We all are designated numbers. (This is something I think we are all grateful for. We represent forty-something nationalities… I don’t care how common a Serbo-Croatian name it is, I don’t know how to spell it. Three digits is much easier.)

Last night, over sushi and sake, I (235) was giving Rolf (005) a hard time for the way he drives (he was at the helm for the choppy leg of the previous day). We started talking about the first officers. We have three. I was having dinner with two of them, Rolf, 005 and Christofer 007. Double O Seven, that never gets old. Christofer actually is 007.

This morning in a different funny interchange, I had breakfast with 231, Nadja, and 501, Marcos. I was telling them about an instant message conversation I had with Ben Claydon. Ben was telling me about his Harley. I said, “He likes to drive it in the Nevada desert. He went on about the wide open spaces and how free you feel when you ride a Harley.”

Marcos, a real masculine guy sitting at our table for breakfast says, “Yeah, kind of like the tampons.”

Nadja and I look at him and explode laughing. “Kind of like the tampons? What the hell are you talking about?”

Since that moment, all day, Marcos has been trying to dig himself out by explaining that tampon commercials always go on and on about how free you feel, and there is even the brand stay-free.

But he made the leap from Harley to tampons. We won’t let him live it down. He is screwed.

Lastly, there are the mushed and mangled English phrases the non-native speakers come up with. Today’s was: “When the shit hit the shovel.”

This is “When the shit hit the fan.” + “When push comes to shove.” + an extra l at the end for effect.

“When the shit hit the shovel.”

All in all, it makes for a lot of fun and a lot of laughter. (And for those of you who have heard me laugh… a lot of noise too.)

We laugh and joke constantly in the most good-natured way. It is amongst the charms of ship-life.

Anyway, a picture of Rio for you:

Rio!

2006-03-12T16:55:00.000-08:00

(Rio! requires an exclamation mark. I don't know why It just does. I guess its the city's vitality.)

Our entry to Rio was met with a flurry of activity on board. Initially it was because we had been at sea for five days and everyone wanted off…

Our arrival was not met by fanfare, but rather stray bullet fire upon the ship. (Mom… since this has been written by me, I am most definitely not shot dead.)

Rio is a strikingly (perhaps not the best word choice) gorgeous city contrasting sky with mountain ridge in sharp lines, and mountain ridge with buildings of eclectic styles, including my favorite, art deco.

The trees overflow with their own leaves and those of vines wrapping all the branches.

For as bad as Italian drivers are, I think the Brazilians are far worse. Green lights mean race the car next to you to squeeze through the next narrow area and red lights mean honk so the people traveling with the green lights know you are coming.

Red lights are merely a suggestion.

And unfortunately, there is a reason other than eagerness. People are afraid to sit stopped in a car. It makes them a target. So at 3 am, while we drove home with a former shipmate and a Brazilian, there was no way he was going to stop at the red lights.

I don’t know how much of this is reality and how much is fear. However, I mentioned this practice of not stopping at red lights to another Brazilian on the ship and he said, “Of course not. You never sit at a red light late at night. Who knows what could happen?”

The night life district was the usual packed group of twenty-something’s wearing 80 degree weather appropriate wear, spilling into the streets from open air restaurants and clubs, except in Rio all the streets are lined with the luscious trees. Plus, there are little kids selling goods out of old cigarette vending style trays wrapped around their necks and protruding from their stomachs. The trays have gum, candy, cigarettes, etc.

It did not really seem much different from Westwood, Santa Barbara, Santa Monica or Miami in terms of night life.

I definitely plan to return to Rio, and not just for a day next cruise. The natural beauty of the dark jagged ridge against sky, water and man’s creations is awe inspiring, riveting and utterly magnetic. The plant life is so lush as if to incite you to live.

There are at least ten crew members going hang-gliding tomorrow.

I desperately wish I did not have to work!

The crime, as my Brazilian friend Edson says, “Is a shame.”

It is nearly five am. I must sleep for work is at 8am and more importantly to prepare for dodging additional small arms fire. (Mom! It is a joke… I hope.)

Stupid: What ever it is in man’s nature that propels us toward violence.

Cool: The gorgeous beauty of Rio’s exquisite ridge line.

Critical Knowledge

2006-03-09T22:06:00.000-08:00

Tonight,

I learned....

Perhaps the most important, and highly guarded secret in ship life....

I learned who to bribe for a hot pizza at 1:30am.

*Smirk*

I have the POWER!

Amazon Chachkas

2006-03-07T18:13:00.000-08:00

I am exhausted, so this is going to be a visual entry of the things I bought and didn’t in the Amazon. (The actual Amazon, not Amazon.com.)

All these items are entirely made of natural components from the Rain Forest and the Amazon River, with the exception of the steel of the knife.

This is a dart gun/horn/noise maker. It is about two and a half feet long. The darts are the cotton tipped things at the bottom. To shoot a dart, you place it in the tub of the gun and blow hard at the other end.

This is a wall ordainment. It is made with fish bones, tree resin and the eyes are tree nuts.

This is a gift for my sister and her fiancée. I know my sister will appreciate the craft of the ordainment and he the fact it is a knife. (He is not nearly as crazy as that sentence makes him sound.) These are two different views of the knife and sheath.

And lastly, the piranhas. Everywhere tourists were, were lines of stuffed piranhas for sale. I didn’t buy the stuffed fish, but I got this shot so you could get the experience. These are just a few. You have to image hundreds of them every place you went. It is just weird.

Bed time.

How are you?

2006-03-05T14:33:00.000-08:00

I am good, good.

Just ask the mosquitoes, they think I am delicious.

I Am In Brazil...

2006-03-03T15:56:00.000-08:00

I went hiking in the rain forrest the other day.

Its aptly named.

A Day In The Life of MikaFebruary 26, 2006 to be specific

2006-02-26T21:42:00.000-08:00

25 hours (I am a busy girl. I have to fit 25 hours in my day.):

00:00 Sitting with friends in the O Bar (Officer’s Bar)
01:00 Chatting with friends on Deck 6 Aft which is the outdoor patio for crew, as we cruise up the Amazon. Maria, Helena and I have a shopping date for Buenos Ares, in 16 days.
02:00 Dance to the blasting music with a hundred of my co-workers, despite being drenched from the 85 degree heat and amazing humidity. Our dance club has very clean bathrooms… unfortunately you have to walk all the way back to your own cabin to use them.
02:00 Déjà vu, not really. There was a time change, not that anything changed. I was still dancing the night away. (As a moving ship, we often cross time zones and change time.)
03:00 Tired of dancing, I go visit Edson, who is still on duty. Then wandering down the corridor toward my cabin (or Cabeanna as Maria calls it), I run into a Marcos and chat for a while.
04:00 Sleep!
05:00 Still sleeping.
06:00 Get up at some time. Check my emails, deal with a couple things.
07:00 Try to go back to sleep.
08:00 Breakfast with Lisa, Sallie and Lesley. Then off to work.
09:00 Work, Captain has an email problem
10:00 Work, Begin building a new 2003 server
11:00 Work, Due to listing, my new 2003 server falls hard… but it still seems to work.
12:00 Finish working, meet people for lunch, I can’t remember who.
13:00 Watch The OC in the O Bar. We have very little TV out here. An episode of The OC plays on repeat all day. The entire crew is hooked. (I am sure if we had anything else to watch we would be less interested in The OC.) This time I caught it from middle to end to beginning.
14:00 Nap!
15:00 Rise and shine, catch coffee with Jasminka, Sallie and Leslie in the Bistro. Then, we wandered out to Deck 6 Aft to look over the side at fifteen or so little wood boats laden with fresh produce to sell to the rich tourists.
16:00 Work, fix gangway system which went offline
17:00 Work, continue work on new server
18:00 Work, service ving machine
19:00 Dinner with Sasha, Dale, Paulina and another guy whose name I don’t know.
20:00 Work, Nadja’s two accounting reports don’t match. Work on it for a while before deciding I would rather work on it tomorrow.
21:00 Visit other offices and chat.
22:00 Help a friend with some computer work, and more chatting
23:00 Crew bar for a drink. Chat with Erika.
24:00 Dance class, a little Salsa and a little Meringue. This was a crew only class and we laughed up a storm. Taking dance classes when the ship is listing to and fro adds a fun dimension.

Rinse and Repeat…

(If this is coherent it is a miracle. I should really sleep more. But life onboard is so much fun.)

Loveboat?

2006-02-24T16:34:00.000-08:00

So Valentine’s Day has come and gone, showing in its wake, that ship life is not shore life.

Amongst the funnier aspects of Valentine’s Day was our Crew Officer’s hopes and expectations. The Crew Officer onboard is like a wing of human resources. His responsibilities include placing crew into cabins. For particularly popular cruises, there are more crew aboard, sometimes out numbering space available. This is currently the case. It requires people to double up. This means officers with single cabins are encouraged and even paid to give up the privilege of single occupancy and share their cabin with another.

The Crew Officer facing a shortage of beds was hoping for a particularly romantic Valentine’s Day. If a large portion of the crew would find someone to love it would increase double occupancy, and reducing his need to find beds for people.

Romantic of him, huh?

Also with Valentine’s Day came a number of engagements. The wonderful thing about living onboard is meeting people from all over the world. The problem with finding love aboard, is it is from all over the world. Peter of Sweden found Petra of Australia. (They are not engaged, but it is just a matter of time.) Maria, Norwegian, is engaged to Benjy, Filipino.

They then have to answer the question of which country to live in. In the case of Benjy and Maria, this includes learning a new language.

(On the up side, one of them rarely has to see the in-laws.)

In Antigua, just the other day a good portion of the ships crew wore their nicest beachwear for the beach wedding of two crew members.

The reception at a beach front restaurant was cut short by sailing time, 5 pm. (All crew had to be aboard at 4:30 pm.) The bride and groom were punctually at work an hour later, 6pm.

Another oddity of ship life, is the expiration date. Most relationships have an expiration date of the earliest contract end date. We live aboard for one contract, which varies from a few months to ten months. Contract scheduling results in people leaving the ship staggered at random. When two people get together, say Gabor and Kelly, and Kelly leaves September 30 and Gabor December third, then there is often an unspoken agreement that the relationship is over on September 30.

It is possible, with people from different countries, and different schedules, and even working different ships, that couples will never see each other again. Some people will resume or commit to their relationship until they are both onboard again. Some couples do the long distance relationship thing. A lot of crew members have significant others at home whom they don’t see for many months at a time. Then there are even the odd few married couples aboard. Louise and Ben have been married eight years. They live together aboard but rarely have vacation together due to scheduling.

It all makes for an unusual relationship life.

Hope you had a romantic Valentine’s Day, and not just to increase double occupancy.

When Did Fast Food Get SO Expensive?

2006-02-11T16:07:00.000-08:00

(Keene, New Hampshire October 2005)

Stupid: Either the people who wrote the sign, or the education they received.

Cool: They probably won't charge you ninety-nine dollars for any item on the menu.

Headlines From Around The World

2006-02-08T19:38:00.000-08:00

The Prime Minister of Italy has promised not to have sex until April 9th, the date of the general elections.

I don’t know about you, but that is a little more information about the Prime Minister of Italy than I really cared to know.

I wonder if this will improve his chances at the polls

By the way, I have decided “Canal” is a ludicrous understatement.

Pictures of the Canal

2006-02-05T20:00:00.000-08:00

Panama Canal

The Panama Canal is a stunning feat of engineering. I enjoyed it thoroughly.

The statistics surrounding it are astonishing. For example, 30,000 people died in the building of the Panama Canal.

The price of admission is based on tonnage. For us, it was $155,000. And that was just for today’s trip through. We do an about face and go back through, for another $155,000, in a couple days, but with a different group of guests.

I have to be honest, it is a bit eerie to look out the window, while eating breakfast, and see the wall quickly moving down beside us. The rate we rise and fall in the locks is stunning. Unlike an elevator though, it is so even and so gradual you have to be look outside to know you are rising/falling.

And if you ever thought parallel parking was hard, try pulling a 96 foot wide, 51,000 ton ship into a slip with only a feet of clearance on either side. Let me give you an idea how close this is. On deck seven, where I was standing, the ship is wider than deck three, which is where the water line is. When I looked over the side on deck seven while at the top of the locks motion, I was looking at dock, not water. There was no water visible. Given that at the bottom of the lock, the deck seven width has to clear the locks walls, it is mighty close. I imagine I could jump the distance. So that is a few feet clearance on either side of a 96 foot wide ship.

So if you ever feel like complaining about tight parking jobs, don’t complain to our Captain. He has you beat.

In the last two locks, it occurred to me I could share the experience in a cheesy way. So enjoy:

After the last lock, the Captain comes on the public address system, and says, “Well…” And he paused. “That was that.”

um... talk about an undertatement.

Maybe you had to have crossed a continent in a 51,000 ton ship, raised some hundred feet, traveled 50 miles, and lowered, to a different ocean all together, through an amazing display of engineering living well 100 years later, to appreciate what an understatement, “Well… That was that” is.

And you guys were watching some pigskin between overpriced commercials…

It Is December 23,

2005-12-24T17:08:00.000-08:00

Do you have your Valentine's gift yet?

RiteAid can help. Valentine's gifts are now available.

Forget that Christmas has not yet past, start shopping for Valentine's Day now, before all the gifts are gone and replaced by Easter goods.

It reminds me of my favorite commercial line of the year, "Come on kids, go get on your Halloween costumes while Mom hides the Easter Eggs." (Capital One's "No Black Out Dates" credit card commercial) Like in the commercial, it seems that all the holidays are merging into one.

Seeing a Valentine's Day aisle, packed solid with pink, red and white goods before Christmas, is just wrong.

Whatever happen to the division of holidays? I protest the merger of holiday seasons with every holiday. I will not buy a single Halloween good before October 1st or anything for Christmas before Thanksgiving.

In order to really appreciate the holidays, there has to be some time without holidays. This year, in September, I saw Santa decorations. I was horrified. I remember clearly because it was before my birthday. Santa does not belong in September! I love Christmas and all, but its not very special if it spreads over three months of the year.

Anyway, care of RiteAid and various merchandisers, on this December 23, I would like to wish you...

a Happy Valentine's Day.

NFR

2005-12-08T09:32:00.000-08:00

From the Wrangler NFR Photo Gallery

In a year of many firsts for me, if you had told me a few months ago I would be ‘covering’ a rodeo, I would have laughed boisterously.

My suburban parents decided the family vacation this year would be to the National Finals Rodeo.

I think this was greeted with silent stares from the kids, mouths slightly ajar and a background of chirping crickets.

They won tickets through an auction last year and said, “Why not?” and went.

This year they returned and dragged the kids, 23, 25, 29.

We went, rolling our eyes, embarrassed, asking what the hell we were doing at a rodeo. I was told that at very least, I would get good stupid cool material out of it. (So I went for your entertainment. See what I do for you guys!)

To jump to the conclusion of this entry, this is not a stupid cool entry, just a cool entry. The rodeo was absolutely unbelievable. It was a spectacle, a show, and perhaps most of all a sport. I would go again in a heartbeat.

National Finals Rodeo Basics for People Like Me:

The National Finals Rodeo, held annually in Las Vegas (of all places) brings together the top rodeo winners of the year in eight events: Bareback Riding, Steer Wrestling, Team Roping, Saddle Bronc Riding, Tie-Down Roping, Steer Roping, Barrel Racing and the most popular of all, Bull Riding.

The events are either judged for points, such as Bull Riding, or timed, where the shortest time wins, such as Steer Roping.

The Rodeo is the ultimate ADD Generation sport. Bull Riding is an eight second event while Steer Wrestling (jump off a running horse, in a run, and tackle a steer to the ground) is a four second event!

(I don’t think I can jump of a stationary horse in four seconds, let alone jump off a moving one, catch a running steer and tackle it to the ground, looking sexy doing it.)

Each contestant of an event is brought up in quick secession, with very little downtime. When the event is over, the winner rides a victory lap about the arena floor escorted by a cowgirl. They are followed by a commercial, which in a rodeo, is a cowgirl riding a lap with a flag for Wrangler, or GoArmy, or Hooters.

Advertising in and of itself was fascinating. The advertising I am exposed to usually touts computer stuff, wi-fi providers, prescription drugs, practical cars and investment firms. (What I just learned is I watch and read some pretty droll stuff.)

At the rodeo though, the demographic was not dull computer geeks, but young guys and cowboys. The advertisers around the arena included, Wrangler (jeans), Justin Boots, U.S. Smokeless Tobacco, Dodge, Wells Fargo, Coors, GoArmy, Jack Daniels, Resistol Hats, B&W Trailer Hitches and Montana SilverSmiths (the all important belt buckles). The goal demographic was clear from the advertisers and the advertising was fascinating. Outside the arena, were many large tent structures, including a Jack Daniels’ bar with hot cowgirls dancing on the bar.

In the interest of keeping with the short and sweet rodeo flavor, more to come in additional entries…

The Halifax Lobsters

2005-11-29T11:09:00.000-08:00

The Halifax Lobsters

It seems a requirement that tourist locations have a renown synonymous sculpture. New York has the Statue of Liberty; Copenhagen has the Little Mermaid; Rio has Christ the Redeemer.

And Halifax has the Lobsters. The lobsters, situated all over town, decorated with various themes, seemed to have one purpose only, amusement, and they met their purpose well.

So for fun one day, I ran out with my camera and took pictures of me, with the lobsters. (see below)

It was a fun attraction, much like an Easter egg hunt, but for six foot tall lobsters, in the city with all sorts of interesting themes.

I had a good time.

Halifax otherwise, is completely morbid. Its biggest claim to fame is its cemeteries, as the resting places of two remarkable disasters.

Three cemeteries are the final resting places for the recovered unclaimed dead from the Titanic, 150 in all. There are several exhibits in town dedicated to this tragedy complete with recovered artifacts.

The other morbid Halifax legacy is the Mont Blanc ship explosion of 1917. Mont Blanc, a munitions ship caught fire after a collision with another ship. It continued to drift into the harbor after the collision, bringing it to the center of town blazing. The local population was drawn to the shores by the spectacle of the burning ship. The ship, laden with 400,000lbs of TNT amongst other explosives, having burned for several minutes, exploded, killing 1,900 people instantly. The explosion potentially the largest man-made explosion prior to the nuclear era shattered glass fifty miles away. The ship's anchor, 1,140lbs., was found 2.3 miles away after the explosion.

But if you like life sized lobster sculptures, I recommend Halifax.

Bag Pipe Lobster

Ocean Lobster

Bob Marley Lobster

For What I Am Vastly Thankful...

2005-11-24T18:36:00.000-08:00

I try to keep my personal life out of this blog. It is really meant to be an impersonal funny column like that you find in life section of the paper.

Thanksgiving, though, yields personal reflection.

As I drove to over to my parents house, where I now sit in the California sun, enjoying the 70 degree weather and the sounds of the waterfall, I thought about Thanksgiving.

I knew at the coming dinner I would be asked what I am thankful for.

And the answer is so immense it is hard to begin.

2004 began with the aftermath of having been beaten up by my boss and best friend. I was subsequently (and illegally) fired. Thereafter loosing my house became a real possibility. This was followed by a car accident and several months in the hospital where no one was really sure what would become of me.

Last Thanksgiving, recently out of the hospital, having just had several staples removed from my leg, with no job, I felt generally beaten. I still had my house, through the generosity of my father, which I was grateful for last year as I am this year.

But I was a soul in purgatory. I had lost my career and most of my friends. I had lost direction and interest in finding it.

In the early part of this year, I cycled through a few jobs which barely paid the bills and one which made me miserable.

This changed with a phone call in April, asking me to interview for a cruise line position. I was offered (or given like a gift from god) the job, with eight days notice before flying to Rome.

It was a new start, with new people, with new experiences, new opportunities and new hopes.

It changed me for ever. Pulled from lost despair and thrust into the unknown. As with any new endeavor, I spent the night in Rome terrified that I had made the wrong choice. In eight days I packed up my life with just a hope.

I made a catastrophic mistake in the first few weeks aboard. I was griped by the fear I would be sent home, leaving great hopes in Europe and returning home fired and lost again.

Here I sit in the warm California fall sun. I have an amazing home. I have an amazing job which has transformed my soul. I have learned who my true friends are and I have there friendship. I have a family, all happy and in good health.

Ridiculously, I still miss some of the things I lost, my old job which I loved, the friends I had there, and their respect.

But missing things lost is normal. As awful as things have been, I would not change a thing. They brought me to where I am today, and I am vastly thankful for everything my life is today.

I hope the same for you.

Thanksgiving Greetings

2005-11-21T08:11:00.000-08:00

I generally associate Thanksgiving with warm weather, and this year will be no exception. It was 85F yesterday.

Eighty-five and beautiful. This picture was taken yesterday from my local beach, Hendry’s.

I hope you enjoy a lovely Thanksgiving.

Stay tuned for information about pirates… in a future entry.

Time To Buy A Lottery Ticket

2005-11-16T16:47:00.000-08:00

Every now and then something happens in my life which makes me think I have hit such a stroke of luck, it is time to buy a lottery ticket since everything is going my way.

If you did not already think I had the best job in the world, working on a cruise ship, now you will.

I got an ominous email from my boss yesterday saying we had to talk. (not stupid, intimidating)

Today he informed me that due to a rescheduling necessity, my paid vacation has been extended by one month. (cool, amazing, awesome)

Unreal.

(I was actually looking forward to going back, because the ship is in the Caribbean, oh well.)

Being on vacation is sooooo hard.

(I hope you all still love me, despite my miraculous fortune.)

Tallinn, Estonia and My Mom's Been Watching Sex in the City

2005-11-14T08:08:00.000-08:00

As I said before, I am going to try to include a picture in every post. This post's picture is my amazing ship, right, in Tallinn, Estonia. Tallinn had one of the most beautiful docks, just a ship or two on a long, clean, new, cement dock with blue Baltic sea and sky beyond. In the other direction is a view of the steeples and castle walls of the medieval city. (I didn't take a picture of the other direction unfortunately.)

I wrote a long entry about Tallinn in July. Tallinn was definitely an enchanting surprise in the Baltic. (Cool)

(End of Tallinn conversation, beginning of Mom conversation)

So I have decided my mother has been watching too much Sex in the City.

This was our conversation on instant messenger this morning:

me: I have nothing to say
me: how was your weekend?
mom: here too! what boring people!
me: well I had an exciting weekend... but you are my mom
mom: oh was he nice/good/fun/whatever??
mom: I didn't say that, something evil and non-maternal took over my body
me: lol
mom: okay, enough of the weird stuff, what is his name
mom: ...if you know
me: JESUS MOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At that point someone showed up at her desk and I think I was thankfully spared further conversation with my mom on this particular subject. (Neither stupid, nor cool, just scary.)

:)

Greenland

2005-11-10T08:48:00.000-08:00

Every Thursday should start with Greenland.

This Thursday certainly is starting with Greenland. Not that Thursday has a g in it or anything. In fact, no day of the week has a g in it.

But I won't let that stop me from starting this Thursday with Greenland.

So at this point, you are probably bored of the funny little banter and wondering when I am actually going to get to anything regarding Greenland instead of just talking about Greenland and its non-affiliation with any day of the week except Thursday, cause namely, I said so.

So, Greenland.

I was at dinner the other night, not in Greenland, but the reference is coming, and someone asked me where was the strangest place I had visited in my summer aboard the ship. I hmmm and haaaaed and basically came up with nothing.

(Greenland reference still coming.)

Later that night, I was talking about Greenland (see, a Greenland reference). And the person who had asked me, Dani, about the strangest place I had been to said it sounded like Greenland was the strangest place I had been to.

So, Greenland.

I visited Greenland for crisp, i.e. cold, clear, beautiful, Sunday afternoon, in September, for four hours. (Note as promised, no g in Sunday.)

We visited the capital, Nuuk, which proudly sells sweatshirts embossed with "NUUK, The Capital." I thought that was hysterical! Nuuk at, 14,500 is hardly a thriving metropolis. (Though with the ship there, the population swelled to over 15,500.) I suspect the thriving metropolis is limited a lot by the icebergs in the harbor which we managed to navigate around, unlike earlier in the morning, which is a different story all together, also involving Greenland, so it too will be told on a Thursday.

See icebergs in harbor:

Harbor is a bit of a misnomer. It is a natural harbor, with a ten foot by thirty foot wood plank extension into the water. The ship didn't pull into this remarkable feat of Saturday afternoon engineering (note Saturdays lack of g also). We had to board little tender boats to get to the "harbor" which was really more like a lake dock.

Greenland is such a stir of cultures it is amazing. The homes on the harbor are bright, brilliant burgundy reds, bright yellows, bright whites, bright blues and bright forest greens. They are adored with ornate white, green and yellow shutters. Some have perfect picket fences. All have somewhat steep roofs, many with dormer windows. A few also had tree house like structures in their backyards with hanging skins drying, mostly reindeer. (I regret not having pictures of the drying racks.)

Click for larger image.

Greenland is part of and loosely governed by Denmark. (Personally I think the English, French, Spanish and Portuguese managed to get the better new world real estate.)

The governorship means Greenland speaks Danish and uses the Danish Kroner (currency).

This is a very strange juxtaposition to the people who are Inuit, some in traditional Inuit garb. You just don't think of an Eskimo, speaking Danish and living in a Danish style house with pretty little shutters and a white picket fence.

I suppose this is not much different from an Inuit speaking English driving a Ford in Alaska.

This breeds a long conversation on expectations of appearance, culture and language. Namely, the expectation a person of a certain features will be of a certain culture and language. I will talk about this in a different entry.

In Greenland, the tourist trinkets were whale-bone whittles and reindeer-skin hats, gloves, etc.

I have no idea what the deal was with these whittles, but they were so unusual I had to take pictures.

Greenland also has huge numbers of whales. I never got a chance glimpse but many people did.

The dark underside of Greenland was the slums, packed cement apartment complexes, clearly over crowded, with suspicious rabid-looking dogs wandering outside, and men sitting beside the road so inebriated I found it shocking they had not passed out.

Despite having wandered into the bad neighborhood of Greenland (I guess there is a bad neighborhood everywhere), it was very interesting, the combination of Danish and Inuit traditions and cultures. (I doubt many Danish people dry reindeer skins within their picket fences.)

I would not recommend Greenland as a destination resort. I had four hours there and had trouble filling the time. It was fascinating and a place I feel very fortunate to have visited, but I would not go out of my way to return, and its Greenland, so it is always out of the way. (But there is always Air Greenland, yes, really, it exists. I am sure they have at least one plane.)

And that is Greenland, this Thursday, which still does not have a g in it, and probably won't anytime soon.

Ship Life vs. Real Life

2005-11-08T08:01:00.000-08:00

On the ship, in theory, you work ten hours a day seven days a week. It sounds like a lot.

I am finding it is not.

Do you have any idea how much laundry you produce a week, sheets and towels and seven sets of clothes! (more than seven sets if you have a drinking problem… you know the type, the type where you occasionally miss your mouth.)

Then there are the other things, like going to the supermarket and cooking and cleaning.

Figure in that the rest of the world commutes more than the three minutes it takes from cabin, up one deck, to office.

I don’t think I actually work that much more than most people. I think it is just more in the office than the supermarket, the laundry room, and the car.

In case you don’t know, I have a steward. This person changes my sheets and towels, cleans my room, takes my laundry and returns it the next day. (cool) This saves me a lot of time.

Then there is the o’mess, or Officer’s Mess. It always has food, and none of which I had to go to the market for or prepare. (cool)

These perks make life much easier. So all things accounted for, I don’t really think I work that much more than most people.

I mention all this because I am amazed at how much laundry a girl can produce!

Anyway, my last entry was on spiders… so here is the spider renting my front yard.

As long as they are not on me, spiders are cool.

Vacationing, At Home

2005-11-02T08:21:00.000-08:00

Given that I work on a cruise ship, I spend eight months a year traveling. Nonetheless, when I chose to spend my vacation at home, my co-workers baulked. “Why aren’t you traveling?” they asked.

This seemed a ridiculous question to me. I travel most of the year. But the industry attracts people with something in common, the love to travel. Many of them don’t stop for vacation.

The consistently incredulous response to my vacation plans made me quite feel awkward and a bit embarrassed every time someone asked what I was doing on vacation.

Yesterday, November first, on vacation, I woke up, grabbed my Nano Ipod, a bottle of water and walked the three blocks from my house to the Coronado Butterfly Preserve, where the Mexican Monarchs winter. The butterflies, bright orange, and nearly the size of my hands (which are admittedly small), fluttered around like confetti in a breeze. Their wings are a brilliant contrast to the gray-green eucalyptus leaves.

From there I walked the short distance to the beach, where I walked on an entirely empty beach, my footprints the only human disturbance on the sandy canvass waterline. The sun was high and bright. The islands some thirty miles off the coast looked like a mirage.

In my several mile walk, I stop occasionally to admire the glass-flat Pacific. The 85 degree heat was offset by an ocean breeze cooling my skin and my water was satiating.

Toward the end of my walk, I stood at the top of the ocean cliffs and realized something my coworkers didn’t. I don’t need to travel on vacation. I live in one of the best travel destinations in the world. (Cool)

I could not imagine anything I would prefer to do on vacation than spend a hot day at a beautiful beach I had all to myself.

---

I have lots of left over pictures from my trip that I have not posted yet. So I decided I would try to post one with every post. This is me with a troll in Norway. There are lots of Viking trolls in Norway. I loved them, the ugly, full-sized child-like, figurines with viking hats and huge happy smiles.

The Welcome Home Committee

2005-10-30T22:14:00.000-08:00

Big ones, small ones, gross ones, cute ones, furry ones, buzzing ones, flying ones, crawling ones, slimy ones…

Insects.

As much as we would like to claim otherwise, they are in our homes, on high shelves and in the corners of the garage.

Arachnophobics beware, California homes generally have at least one spider per person. I have daddy longlegs everywhere, one in the shower, one in a corner in the hallway, several in the living room, and the laundry room has arachno-condos.

I shoo them out, take down their webs and clean up the tiny bloodless insect carcasses discarded. Yet, they rebuild. (Clearly they have a better Federal Emergency Management Agency than Katrina victims.)

Daddy longlegs are part of life here. No one really notices or pays attention.

But I noticed, because it was a contrast.

Ships are a very closed environment with a lot of food, a lot of food. Great efforts are made to prevent stowaways of every type, including the small crawly type.

My ship is extraordinarily successful at this. With the exception of the occasional fly, I never once in my five months aboard saw an insect on board.

That is not entirely true. On the top deck while in St. Petersburg once, we had a terrible infestation of lady bugs. You literally could not take a couple steps without crunching a lady big. But the lady bugs were well restricted to the exterior top deck. As soon as we left St. Petersburg, we left behind the lady bugs.

My point is, among the strange aspects of ship life, is the complete absence of some normal aspects of life, including insects.

This has been strikingly apparent in my return home, not to an empty house, but one with a spider here and there.

They seemed rather indifferent to my return.

Understanding the Harvest Season

2005-10-23T06:04:00.000-07:00

I am currently in Keene, New Hampshire, New England, the birth place of Thanksgiving. And Thanksgiving traditions all make sense here.

There are big fat wild turkeys waddling around the harvested corn fields. The cranberries are canned. Pumpkins are everywhere and the last apples are falling from trees, amidst other trees that are gold, brown, green and red.

But let’s discuss the pumpkins as they are by far and away the most excessive tradition locally.

Every year, people and businesses carve pumpkins or a few dozen, and carry them down to town square where they REGISTER their pumpkin(s).

Then they find a nice space for the pumpkin along the side of Main Street (aptly name as it is the main street) or on the three story high erected pyramid, pumpkin scaffoldings, provided with honor by local construction companies. Each tier of the mammoth pyramid structures is about two feet high, just big enough for a large of pumpkin. (There were four or five of these glowing structures around Main Street.

And they were glowing, all a light. I have been told there are even people tasked specifically with going around town and relighting darkened lanterns.

So on the night of the pumpkin festival, you cruise Main Street admiring the pumpkins, everywhere, and purchasing hot cider, hot cocoa, hot soup, hot chili, cause it is damn cold out. (Local charities set up booths for fund raising.)

This tradition fosters a lot of very creative carving. Businesses who sponsor pumpkin collection manage to advertise, each pumpkin having a letter to spell McKay’s Market for example. I liked the one with wholes through out the entire thing. It just looked like a very evenly glowing spotted ball. It was kind of abstract.

And there is even a goal. The reason why people register their pumpkin is it is their yearly effort to exceed their own Guinness Book of World Records record for the most lit lanterns in one place.

The other reason is their competition with Boston who is also trying to beat Keene’s record.

This year Keene had 22,167 pumpkins, and apparently Boston had around 24,000. The record is around 28,000.

I would say this is a fire hazard, except it was 37 degrees and raining out.

In the end, people are encouraged to take home their pumpkins. Otherwise, with a forklift, they are fed to the pigs.

My picture did not come out so great, so I will tell you what it is. The pyramid of pumpkins-a-glow is fairly obvious. The white pinnacle in the upper right is the steeple of the standard issue New England town center chapel. (The base is hidden by a very dark tree.) Then those are people with umbrellas in front.

Happy Carving…

Landed

2005-10-21T06:42:00.000-07:00

I am off the ship and life is weird.

• Driving is strange.

• People asking me what of 8000 things I want on a sandwich is disorienting.

• Everyone seems rude compared to life on the ship where it is our job and lifestyle to be accommodating.

• Everywhere is cold and various in temperature instead of being a nice, steady 68 degrees.

• I have to make a decision as to what I want to eat rather than having it all laid out for me to put on a plate.

• In the Officer’s Mess, there is a bus woman named Melinda. She always takes you plate before you are finished and some how when you are distracted by conversation or something. You find yourself, surprised, looking down, fork mid-air. As a result, I eat convict style. I guard my plate. When you are eating where no one is going to take your plate and you are expected to bus your own, this is really silly.

• I am expected to pick out my own clothes everyday.

• I don’t have a big group of friends to have breakfast, lunch and dinner with.

• There are five hundred channels chock full of mostly commercials, and still there is nothing on. (There is something fairly comforting about six channels of movies you have seen bits and pieces of before all without commercials.)

• Everything seems dirty. Apparently the rest of the world does not have two full time cleaners allocated per 75 sq. ft.

• I walk around town and don’t recognize anyone. On the ship, in every port, you always run into fellow crew.

• It occurred to me as I drove yesterday, I was supposed to have a drivers license with me. This is something I completely forgot about.

• I can take a shower and straighten my arms without touching a wall.

• I cannot touch every wall of the bathroom while standing at every point of the bathroom.

• No one takes my dry-cleaning from my bedroom every morning and returns it the next day.

• I have no pager resting against my spine, clipped to my skirt and I am not supposed to.

• The walls are not magnetic, which makes hanging things with magnets much harder.

• No one here makes friendly jests at my expense from long standing jokes.

• Amazingly I still have difficult users. (I am staying at my mom’s house.)

I am going to try and catch up on back stupid cools.

Stay tuned.

Next Time with Deeper Pockets

2005-10-13T16:43:00.000-07:00

As I was walking by Nadja's office today, I noticed she had some cash on the desk. Kidding, I said, "I’ll take some of that."

She shrugged, "That’s ok. I have 400,000 under my desk?"

"What?"

She casually grabbed an ordinary gray plastic bag from under her desk. She set it on her lap and pulled out a brick of plastic-wrapped hundred dollar bills. She put it on her desk, along with another, and another and another.

She was serious. She had $400,000 under her desk.

$400,000 in hundreds is not that big. I can easily hold it, though it didn't fit into my pockets (not that I checked…).

I love my job. It has given me many interesting experiences.

Holding $400,000 is one of them.

She had over a hundred thousand more on the other side of the room.

A cruise ship chooses a currency to pay wages in. Then, since the cruise ship is the bank on board, there must be enough currency available for the crew to hit the "atm" (her name is Hilde) before a day of shopping in port.

Four hundred grand seemed to cover it.

NEWSFLASH!

2005-09-29T13:25:00.000-07:00

Mika spotted alive in Quebec!

As part of the perks, as a cruise employee, I am allowed to have blood-relative guests for reduced rates.

This means I work ten hours a day and spend an additional few hours with family during their visit, leading to fond memories... without any documentation due to time constraints.

Stories coming.... sometime...

My Bedroom Window

2005-09-17T04:40:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning, and looked out my window.

And saw a concord jet, not in the sky but just 100 feet away. Just sitting there.

Behind the concord, was a legion of helicopters. Big ones, small ones, fat ones, white ones, black ones, green ones.

For the average person, waking and looking out the bedroom window to see a bunch of aircraft, that had not been there the night before, would be an surprising sight.

It is weird sight, when you are used to seeing ocean, but not an odd one.

It is one of the fantastic aspects of my life. I get up every morning, and with excitement, opening my curtains to a sight I have never seen before.

Today, it was an aircraft carrier:

(The Intrepid, New York City)

Lerwick, Scotland

2005-09-12T17:03:00.000-07:00

A charming, foggy, island, outpost,

With a flower box of cheerful brilliant orange.

Check That One Off The List

2005-09-10T18:47:00.000-07:00

Under the category of awesome:

A dark sky, the glint of stars peak through the unseen clouds…

Born to the north, a faint hint of warmth, a budding mild glow, emerges raining light, natures fireworks, a green luminescence amidst a dark sky, mystical clouds drifting by.

The color, the candor, the blue of a fading sunset high in the sky, as if peaking out from behind the black velvets curtains of night… just a patch of fading daylight god forgot to wipe from the slate of the heavens.

A drifting cloud, like a slow painter’s stroke, a mystical leafy green faded by early morning spring fog, across the ethereal. Painted over with another stroke, this time darkness.

The captain called to alert me to the starboard side.

There is much to be said, for standing on the bridge of a huge ship, lit only by the glow of radar screens, in the north Atlantic…

Watching the northern lights.

Lost

2005-09-10T18:45:00.000-07:00

What the hell is a nice Jewish girl doing in Greenland?

Ship-Lag

2005-09-08T22:21:00.000-07:00

Under the category of Stupid:

The problem with living on a ship, which changes time zones constantly, is you are effectively constantly jetlagged.

Signed,

Wide Awake at 4 am.

Where was your phone in August?

2005-09-07T13:36:00.000-07:00

Today was Iceland... and boy was it. Thirty-five degrees on September 7th.

One thought, PEOPLE! MOVE!

Anyway, where was your phone this August?

My phone was:

Dublin's Drug Problem

2005-09-02T14:02:00.000-07:00

This is Dublin Castle:

This is Dublin Castle on acid:

That is two sides of the same building.

On a different note, we have crew members emergency disembarking. They are heading home to Mississippi, to look for family members they have not heard from.

I live on a ship of 40 nationalities. The crew consensus is utter disgust that America can organize to go to Iraq, yet cannot properly respond to a disaster within its borders.

This event makes the international community angry. How dare American stick their nose in everyone's affairs and yet not be able to adequately react to an internal disaster.

In general, prior to Hurricane Katrina, the anti-American sentiment, on board, is overwhelming. Sitting in the mess, it is tiring to listen to the American bashing. I am tired of being criticized for American policy and culture or further being treated as if I am personally accountable for my nations actions.

Perhaps most, I am disheartened that in the wake of this event, rather than empathy and concern, policy disparagement is what I hear most.

Suddy Irony, My Monetary Closet

2005-08-29T13:47:00.000-07:00

After my last entry, I went looking for lotion in Germany. I bought Mit Teebaumol, Duschol, fur sensible und trockene haut.

I took my shower with my Zel Przeciw Wagrom, Szampon and Pflegespulung. I toweled off. I poured my Mit Teebaubol into my hand and then rubbed it into my skin.

It sudded up.

Much to my surprise.

My lotion was body wash, or so I think.

My first extra-lingual shopping failure, and just following my post of successes. It seemed ironic.

And while I am discussing ironing, onto my closet…

(In other words, this is an abrupt non-sequitur into something regarding my closet.)

In my closet, I have many envelopes. These envelopes help me interact with the global marketplace. Most of the envelopes have a location and some also have a ratio.

The envelopes are:
Russia 1/30, in the envelope, 230 Rubles
Estonia 1/11, in the envelope, 52 Krooni
Norway 1/7, in the envelope lots of Krone coins
Stockholm no ratio, change
Copenhagen, no ratio, 5 Krone
No label, 56Euros
No label $100
No label 28 Pounds

My closet has a very sophisticated monetary system. Its clothing organization, on the other hand, leaves much to be desired. I am hoping the monetary organization over takes the clothing organization, which seems high hopes. At very least, it would be nice if the closet monetary sophistication migrated into the complete chaos of the currency in my jeans.

When is the last time you put on your jeans and found two hundred Ruble…
Five Krone
And a quarter?

Today, not knowing the currency of Belfast, I unloaded the random currencies from my jeans and left with both Euro and Pounds. Pounds in the left pocket, Euros in the right. I was prepared either way.

My first stop was Boots where the total was 7 pounds 90 p. I handed over a fifty. The woman gave me twenty something pounds in change.

I protested.

She said there was nothing she could do.

I tried to explain math to her, namely fifty minus eight does not equal twenty anything.

She explained exchange rate to me.

I looked at her… and then realized I had pulled fifty from my right pocket instead of my left.

I paid 7 pounds 90 pence with fifty Euros and got twenty odd pounds back.

Apparently Boots was prepared either way also.

In the end, truth be known, I don't pay much attention to the local currency.

I carry the universal currency…

Visa.

This Mouthwash Tastes Terrible

2005-08-20T11:53:00.000-07:00

One of the oddities of living on a ship, is the concept of your local drug store.

Every day, amongst others, I used the following products:
Zel Przeciw Wagrom
Szampon
Pflegespulung
Deo Gel
Vanlig

In order, that is:
Polish Face Wash
Polish Shampoo
German Conditioner
French Deodorant.
Swedish Vitamins

Or at least I think that's what those things are…

Today’s Time Change Is Minus One

2005-08-19T11:35:00.000-07:00

Living on a ship that cruises through time zones, ticking them off as we go, has many odd consequences.

This week we put the clocks forward on Thursday, and puts the clocks forward again on Friday. Then on Tuesday we go back an hour and again on Wednesday.

Now the effects of this chaos are so far reaching I cannot even tell you what they are. (But it starts with the IT Officer getting up at 6 am to change the mainframe time. It sucks to have an hour forward, and then have to get up even an hour more forward to change the mainframe clock.)

Luckily the ship builders were BRILLIANT! All the wall clocks on board are controlled on the bridge; I think this is genius.

Another affect of this is, unlike daylight savings time, on any given day, the time difference between me and my loved ones various. Today it is 12 hours to the west coast. On Friday it will be ten hours.

That is just too damned confusing.

So I have this dual clock, a clock with two dials that can be individually set. The other day, I set one clock on Pacific Time, 1:40 and one on Eastern Time, 4:40.

The next day, pleased with myself, I checked my dual clock. According to my clock, it was 11:53 west coast and 4:15 eastern coast.

So I am back to checking the wall for our current gst plus value and calculating.

The fact that we change time zone so frequently, makes it hard to keep track of the time land based offices we interact with, such as the LA Corporate Office, Florida Spa Office, etc. (When you have to call your boss in LA for something urgent, it is important to consider whether it is 3 am.) To compensate, there are clocks all over the ship set to random hours, but the correct minute past the hour. This way there is no need to first figure out what time zone we are in before figuring out what time it is somewhere else, where somewhere else is a land based office a the nearest person works with most.

Our office has an LA clock that is always set to LA time. (It should say, Boss Time, cause that is all we care about.) It took me a few time changes before I was comfortable not changing the time on that clock when changing other clocks.

We also use the phrase old time/new time a lot. He called at 11 new time, 10 o’clock old time last night. This is partially because the time does not change at 2 am. The time changes at some nebulous localized convenient over night time. In the bars, the time change is after 3 am. The computer systems change time at 5 am. The hotel and phone accounting systems change around 7 am. I think the bridge watch changes at 4 am. (But now I am curious and will find out.) Luggage handlers change time at 8pm the night before. And the Ving servers never change time, they stay in GMT, always.

To make sure no one forgets the time change, the crew doors have signs. They are turned to “time change” on the nights with time changes, to remind us to change our clocks, and be on time.

It is also funny when I wear a watch, which I only do when I get off the ship. I put on my watch the other day and wandered around the city. I checked the time, knowing I would have to get back, and the time was clearly wrong. (It turned out to be wrong by two hours.) I needed to know what time it was but could not find the time. I had to remember what city I had last worn the watch, what time zone the city was in, what time zone I was in at that time and adjust my watch.

In the end, you spend a lot of time, on time.

Submitted at
21:35 GMT +3.00 old time or
20:35 GMT +2.00 new time
11:35 GMT -8.00 LA time

Land Based WorkVs.Cruise Based Work

2005-08-17T21:02:00.000-07:00

In land based work, it is acceptable to call in sick.

In cruise based work, it is acceptable to call in drunk, still, from the night before.

Cool: Flyg Ballong

2005-08-17T13:50:00.000-07:00

Cool: Flyg Ballong

(Flying Balloon in Swedish)

Balloon pre-flight

More balloon pre-flight

Sky, balloon, ground, pretty self explanatory (which is why it has the longest explanation thus far)

Stockholm old medieval city. Stockholm is a city of lots of islands, and so many bridges. There are also lots of little ferries, used in the same way we might use a bus.

Picture of me, for my mom, to prove I am alive and sympathizing with my captors, due to Stockholm Syndrome.

This Stockholm neighborhood had a terrible outbreak of tramplines

"Are the trampolenes to provide a safe landing for the balloonists?" (From my Dad, kidding.)

A little outside Stockholm, like twenty minutes. (Cities are little in Europe.)

A reflection of the balloon in water, from the balloon

Random things I have learned:

Norwegian Grammatical Rule:
Why say in two syllables what could be said in eight.

Dates:
The Americans use MM/DD/YY
The Europeans use DD/MM/YY
The Mainframe uses YY/MM/DD
Payroll uses YY/DD/MM
And no matter what you enter first, it is wrong for the intended purpose.

Phonetic colloquialisms Can be Hysterical:
I got an email promising to get that information to me, "In a Yippy."

When you work to hard, the basic stuff trips you up:
My mother asked, "Where I you?" (The first question most people ask me.)
I replied sarcastically, "On the ship. Where do you think I am?"
She laughed. "Ok, Mika, and where is the ship."
I reply, "Um," not knowing I look out the window for a hint, and see a BIG sign that says, "Welcome to Copenhagen."

In my life, time is told in Cities:
Judith to me, "When was that? Was that the day before yesterday?" (Monday or Sunday)
Me, "No, I think it was Stockholm." (Saturday)
Judith, "That's right, cause it was the day Helsinki shipment." (Friday)

I need to reference the wall to find myself:
Friend, "Where are you?"
Me, in my office, "I don't know. What is the date?"
Friend, "August 17th."
I look at my calendar on the wall, find August 17, "St. Petersburg."

Rushin' Moments

2005-08-14T05:16:00.000-07:00

A quick run down of moments from Russia...

Cyrillic Signage at Catharine’s Palace, I just thought it was cool.

Peterhof’s Palace, the goal was to surpass Versailles. Talk about over the top!

That ain’t Disneyland gold paint, also Peterhof’s Palace. Unfortunately, I did not take pictures of the ridiculously gaudy interior with so much gold. It never occurred to me it was real until the guide explained how it was plated, and suddenly I realized it was all actual gold.

OK, this is a heater. I realized that seems boring, but it is a hand painted tile heater on gold feet and there was one in every room. It being Russia and all, they like heaters. (They also had old fashion double windows; the ones where there is a window, and then outside of that is another window.) The walls are yellow silk.

The vast horizon between this opulence and the reality of daily life in Russia remains quite evident today, thought perhaps marginally less extreme.

And yes, "We take dollars, ten dollars. You have Euros, I take Euros, eight Euros. Oh? Pounds? Yes, I take pounds five pounds. Not enough pounds? I take four pounds, two dollars, or eight dollars one pound. Or two dollars, one Euro, six pounds and 10 Kroner. Ruples?"

He checks his pockets. "No, no Ruples." You start walking away, "No, wait, I take seven dollars twenty-five Ruples."

(By the way, mixing currencies is something you get used to on a ship. I gave someone 200 Swedish Kroner, just today, and they gave me $20 and three Euro. You don’t even try to figure out the exact exchange rate after a while.)

Weeeeeeeeeeeee

2005-08-09T20:39:00.000-07:00

We were supposed to dock in Helsinki today, but it was so rough that we had to pull out and go back to sea. (Banging a big ship against a dock is bad.) The port call was canceled.

And as I sat in my office, the rough seas rolling my chair across the slick linoleum floor of my ship office, I couldn’t help but wonder whose idea it was to buy chairs with wheels.