Somewhere around Oct 22 -- Singapore day, the halfway point -- I chatted with a young fellow named Surforaz, who worked in the shops on the Promenade Deck of the ship. In fact, he had an investment in these concessions, and was experiencing lousy business in the first half of this 65-day voyage.
Just prior to this “Grand Asia-Australia Tour” was the 4-month Alaska season, from May through September, a series of one-week cruises with a new batch of 1200 passengers each week, buying souvenirs and gifts and logo clothes at a brisk pace.
But now it was pretty much the same people week after week, elderly, very cruise-experienced and unexcitable, and frugal. Surforaz admitted that one can’t expect these folks to be buying shop stuff every day for 65 days, but it was worse than he expected.
A “Grand Voyage” was new to me also, but I was somewhat prepped for it by the 35-day Transatlantic trip in July, and this 65-day trip worked about the same way. Interested listeners mostly paced themselves, dropping in every few days or so. A few hard-core fans dropped in every night, got to know each other very well, and came to see each other as much as to see me.
I did my darnedest to keep the repertoire fresh, stretching and tweaking it. I got new mileage out of Walking At Midnight, How Sweet It Is, Love and Marriage, Alright OK You Win, Fun Fun Fun, Mr Sandman, Red Sails in the Sunset, Nature Boy, Tomorrow, Music Music Music, Come Fly With Me, Scotch and Soda, and for some strange reason Puff the Magic Dragon. I'm weary of certain tunes like New York New York and King of the Road after all these years and avoided doing them even when they would've worked well.
I'd never heard of a tune called Golden Earrings, but a middle-aged couple badgered me for weeks until I dug up the sheet music and learned it. And now I'm glad they badgered me, it's a terrific tune. Occasionally I slipped in Barbells in the Basement, an original tune that is consistently well received.
The most frequent compliment I get is “How Do You Remember All Those Lyrics?”, as if I’m doing a novelty memorization act, a stunt. The product is supposed to be popular well-written standards, with a no-frills piano-vocal delivery. And a spirited singalong wherever possible. But yeah OK, I know a ton of lyrics, and the trick is 5 x 8 index cards and 35+ years-worth of gigs.
The various open mic nights produced a few talents over the course of 65 days, but in total not as many as a Friday night in a Long Island restaurant. The most enjoyable was a bluegrass banjoist who also sang. Dueling Banjos became Banjo Dueling With a Yamaha Piano. He made five appearances, always ending with the Beverly Hillbillies Theme.
There were a dozen Name That Tune contests, where I played pieces of tunes and guests wrote down what they perceived to be the titles of the tunes. Some people wrote Kitten Up a Tree instead of Misty, Three Cheers for the Red White & Blue instead of Stars and Stripes Forever, Reverend Blue Gene instead of Forever in Blue Jeans, and of course When Will I Hold You Again instead of Weekend in New England, just to name a few. My favorite was When I’m Six Feet Four instead of When I’m Sixty-Four.
Holland America’s original intention was to sell either the full or half-cruises, so everyone would have to buy at least a 32-day cruise. It didn’t quite work out that way, as there were quite a few people getting on the ship in Hong Kong and getting off in Sydney, or getting on in Perth and getting off in Hawaii, etc. One woman got on in Sydney and rode the final 20 days to San Diego, for $2300 including plane fare. Not too shabby, considering that they had to fly her from California to Australia.
It’s a buyers market right now, and maybe the cruise industry will have to downsize a bit in the next few years, maybe put a few ships out of service. But they’re presently full-scheduled, and trying very hard to fill the ships to capacity. The next two years or so might be a good time to dicker for a deal, especially if one is flexible and can agree to a certain cruise only a week or two before departure. That's when they're desperate and ready to fill cabins at supercheap prices. The abovementioned lady used a travel agent, so she just bided her time until the agent called with a fantastic deal.
The ms Amsterdam now heads south to spend the winter months in South America, in two-week voyages, which should cheer up my shop worker friend. In the meantime, I type this on a laptop on a plane headed back for the East Coast, with a huge flood of memories and hopefully more interesting and uncharted waters to come.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Fiji & Samoa
After a 2-week hiatus, I got another Tour Escort job in Fiji. The ship was at an industrial dock, with storage containers (the kind that fit perfectly on a long flatbed truck) stacked up as far as the eye can see, no beach to be seen. After a few minutes the bus made its way past this stuff, and we were viewing beautiful tropic countryside, en route to the “Pacific Harbour Arts Village”
The big event of this tour was the “Firewalkers” -- all our lives we hear about amazing primitive people who can walk on hot coals. “Oh yeah? Let’s see” was the prevailing attitude on the bus.
After a 45-minute ride to the “Village” and another hour milling about the area, buying Fiji souvenirs, strolling around the attractive tropical gardens.....
....It was SHOWTIME. We all sat in what looked like a small baseball park grandstand, looking out over a creek to a big lawn on the other side. This big flat lawn was the “stage”.
A bunch of logs were seen burning in a pile on the other side. While screaming out some Native Fijian Incantations, the Head Firewalker supervised the clearing away of the burning logs and the turning over of the hot stones underneath.
Turning over of the hot stones underneath ? Isn’t that a dead giveaway ? How hot could the underside of those stones be? Ol’ Charlie from the Show Me State of Missouri smirked. Ol’ Steve from the Screw You State of New York also smirked.
Narrator narrates, picker picks, woodpile burns on far side of creek
Fijian fakers flip the firestones
This guy would look perfect with a vanilla cream pie in his face
The Head Firewalker stepped on the (red-hot?) stones, smiled, clapped his hands to encourage applause from the guests. Then six other younger firewalkers did the same.
This was followed by native dancing and singing by the firewalkers, and also 5 Fijian females. A narrator described scenarios of young and old folks, teenager lust and shenanigans, tribal warfare, seasonal ritual, all entertaining and surprisingly funny. Seems like the father of a pretty teenaged girl is leery of a horny young suitor, anywhere in the world.
On the way back, the bus tour guide said that this was the rainy side of the island. As if on cue, it started raining in the last few minutes of the bus ride, which took us through the small and congested town of Suva before letting us off at the dock. The rain continued for the rest of the afternoon, I stayed on the ship, and that was it for Fiji.
As for Samoa, the ship docked at a place called Apia, where the weather was sweltering and there wasn’t many airconditioned establishments. I got off to a late start and I only had a couple of hours, but I heard about a hotel and bar where crew were going to drink, with good airconditioning. Somebody said that Mai Tais were invented in Samoa. True or not, in this town it was a good day to sit in an airconditioned place and drink Mai Tais, maybe stroll around this town (Apia) and check out the local flavor. The banyan trees and the guys in the sarongs were pretty weird.
Samoan Mailman in Sarong...not quite Christopher Atkins
The big event of this tour was the “Firewalkers” -- all our lives we hear about amazing primitive people who can walk on hot coals. “Oh yeah? Let’s see” was the prevailing attitude on the bus.
After a 45-minute ride to the “Village” and another hour milling about the area, buying Fiji souvenirs, strolling around the attractive tropical gardens.....
....It was SHOWTIME. We all sat in what looked like a small baseball park grandstand, looking out over a creek to a big lawn on the other side. This big flat lawn was the “stage”.
A bunch of logs were seen burning in a pile on the other side. While screaming out some Native Fijian Incantations, the Head Firewalker supervised the clearing away of the burning logs and the turning over of the hot stones underneath.
Turning over of the hot stones underneath ? Isn’t that a dead giveaway ? How hot could the underside of those stones be? Ol’ Charlie from the Show Me State of Missouri smirked. Ol’ Steve from the Screw You State of New York also smirked.
Narrator narrates, picker picks, woodpile burns on far side of creek
Fijian fakers flip the firestones
This guy would look perfect with a vanilla cream pie in his faceThe Head Firewalker stepped on the (red-hot?) stones, smiled, clapped his hands to encourage applause from the guests. Then six other younger firewalkers did the same.
This was followed by native dancing and singing by the firewalkers, and also 5 Fijian females. A narrator described scenarios of young and old folks, teenager lust and shenanigans, tribal warfare, seasonal ritual, all entertaining and surprisingly funny. Seems like the father of a pretty teenaged girl is leery of a horny young suitor, anywhere in the world.
On the way back, the bus tour guide said that this was the rainy side of the island. As if on cue, it started raining in the last few minutes of the bus ride, which took us through the small and congested town of Suva before letting us off at the dock. The rain continued for the rest of the afternoon, I stayed on the ship, and that was it for Fiji.
As for Samoa, the ship docked at a place called Apia, where the weather was sweltering and there wasn’t many airconditioned establishments. I got off to a late start and I only had a couple of hours, but I heard about a hotel and bar where crew were going to drink, with good airconditioning. Somebody said that Mai Tais were invented in Samoa. True or not, in this town it was a good day to sit in an airconditioned place and drink Mai Tais, maybe stroll around this town (Apia) and check out the local flavor. The banyan trees and the guys in the sarongs were pretty weird.
Samoan Mailman in Sarong...not quite Christopher AtkinsWednesday, November 12, 2008
Piano Showcase
With only two days notice, the six people who regularly play piano/keyboards on this ship were told they would be putting on a concert in the Main Showroom.
It was somewhat presented as “optional”, but anyone refusing to participate would surely be in the Cruise Director’s Doghouse, and by extension the Holland America Doghouse.
But who would not want to participate? Such an opportunity to showcase one’s pianistic skills in The Big Room before 600 people.
Joel Mananquil didn’t want to do it. He did it last year during the Asia-Australia grand Tour and he nearly had a heart attack. He’s the pianist/synthesist in a 4-piece Filipino dance group, and is quite comfortable in that function. Playing solo piano in the Showroom he’s way out of his element.
Same for Lynn Peacefull. This little British lady and her bassist husband Brian Peacefull, play EZ listening/dance music with recorded tracks and vocals. Lynn has been playing an electronic keyboard since the voyage began.
Steve Lynch, the Pianobar guy, didn’t particularly want to do it. He was well aware of the pianistic ability of the remaining 3 people, and didn’t care to be pitted against them in this arena. He was assured that it was “not a competition”, but he felt he needed to “step up” in some way, not just play EZ cocktail piano. No “Runaround Sue” here.
Julia Miller, the classical pianist, probably welcomed the opportunity. She and her two colleagues in the classical trio frequently have small-sized sleepy old audiences in the lounge they work every night.
Kirk Danielson, a jazz major fresh out of college, probably welcomed the opportunity.
His job in the ship orchestra is playing “synthesizer” or “2nd keyboard” or whatever you want to call it, and he gets stuck with largely dumb embellishing functions in that band.
Irving Brown, the orchestra leader and pianist, also the Musical Director on the ship, probably a) welcomed it and b) was the least fazed by it. In his long career on ships, doing solo piano in the Main Showroom is old hat to him, and he has plenty of repertoire to choose from.
It was an afternoon concert, and we gathered up backstage at about 2:45PM. Somehow I had the presence of mind to bring a camera with me and get a pre-concert photo.
Julia went out first, playing a lightning-fast version of Chopin’s Minute Waltz, and then an amazing thing called “Firedance” She was absolutely wonderful.
Lucky me, I got to follow Julia.
Stage fright is a bitch, but it sure lets you know you’re alive. As I sat down at the piano my whole system froze from head to foot. The piano looked too big. The lights were too bright. A little voice said “you kidding me? I gotta play Maple Leaf Rag on this thing right now? No thank you.”
Then another inside voice said. “Sorry Steve, there’s no other option. Tell your hands to start moving.”
And move they did. The piano seemed SO damn loud, to my ears and obviously amplified by the Sound Tech guy to reach all those fuzzy old ears out in the audience. My hands felt like these weird shaky things at the end of my arms that I had little control over.
I barely remember how I played. In my memory it’s just a haze of fear and discomfort, my hands operating on instinct. Fortunately there was enough of that to carry the day. My piano colleagues backstage complimented me on what I did, particularly my second piece, my own little Art-Tatumesque play on “The Way You Look Tonight”
Then it was Kirk, doing lush, amazing-sounding stylings of blues and jazz in excerpts from “Rhapsody in Blue” and “All the Things You Are”.
Lynn Peacefull got out of her quandary by playing a simple piece written by her son. Quite simplistic actually, but perhaps a nice contrast to everything else.
Joel Mananquil also went simple, playing simple and pretty arrangements of Filipino Love Songs. He was funny when he returned to the backstage, thumping his chest to indicate that he was scared to death out there. He was honest about it in an endearing way, and I chatted with him quite a bit about the whole thing. His English is pretty broken, much more so than his Filipino bandmates, but for the first time the two of us really had something to talk about.
Then of course Irving came out and wowed them with his own medley he called “songs of the seas”, using excerpts of Debussey, Ravel and Chopin. We all came out and took a final bow, and it was over, thank goodness.
It would be typical of me to follow this up with a couple of gin and tonics. But it was still early, and I obeyed the more intelligent voice inside, which told me to go up to the walking track on Deck 3 and do a few laps. The immense ocean was amazingly peaceful-looking, like pond water, with the sun way low in the South Pacific sky, and it was a great 14 laps.
It was somewhat presented as “optional”, but anyone refusing to participate would surely be in the Cruise Director’s Doghouse, and by extension the Holland America Doghouse.
But who would not want to participate? Such an opportunity to showcase one’s pianistic skills in The Big Room before 600 people.
Joel Mananquil didn’t want to do it. He did it last year during the Asia-Australia grand Tour and he nearly had a heart attack. He’s the pianist/synthesist in a 4-piece Filipino dance group, and is quite comfortable in that function. Playing solo piano in the Showroom he’s way out of his element.
Same for Lynn Peacefull. This little British lady and her bassist husband Brian Peacefull, play EZ listening/dance music with recorded tracks and vocals. Lynn has been playing an electronic keyboard since the voyage began.
Steve Lynch, the Pianobar guy, didn’t particularly want to do it. He was well aware of the pianistic ability of the remaining 3 people, and didn’t care to be pitted against them in this arena. He was assured that it was “not a competition”, but he felt he needed to “step up” in some way, not just play EZ cocktail piano. No “Runaround Sue” here.
Julia Miller, the classical pianist, probably welcomed the opportunity. She and her two colleagues in the classical trio frequently have small-sized sleepy old audiences in the lounge they work every night.
Kirk Danielson, a jazz major fresh out of college, probably welcomed the opportunity.
His job in the ship orchestra is playing “synthesizer” or “2nd keyboard” or whatever you want to call it, and he gets stuck with largely dumb embellishing functions in that band.
Irving Brown, the orchestra leader and pianist, also the Musical Director on the ship, probably a) welcomed it and b) was the least fazed by it. In his long career on ships, doing solo piano in the Main Showroom is old hat to him, and he has plenty of repertoire to choose from.
It was an afternoon concert, and we gathered up backstage at about 2:45PM. Somehow I had the presence of mind to bring a camera with me and get a pre-concert photo.
The tiny lady front and center is Lynn Peacefull. Standing around her in a nice arc are (l to r) Julia, myself, Irving, Joel, Kirk
Julia went out first, playing a lightning-fast version of Chopin’s Minute Waltz, and then an amazing thing called “Firedance” She was absolutely wonderful.
Lucky me, I got to follow Julia.
Stage fright is a bitch, but it sure lets you know you’re alive. As I sat down at the piano my whole system froze from head to foot. The piano looked too big. The lights were too bright. A little voice said “you kidding me? I gotta play Maple Leaf Rag on this thing right now? No thank you.”
Then another inside voice said. “Sorry Steve, there’s no other option. Tell your hands to start moving.”
And move they did. The piano seemed SO damn loud, to my ears and obviously amplified by the Sound Tech guy to reach all those fuzzy old ears out in the audience. My hands felt like these weird shaky things at the end of my arms that I had little control over.
I barely remember how I played. In my memory it’s just a haze of fear and discomfort, my hands operating on instinct. Fortunately there was enough of that to carry the day. My piano colleagues backstage complimented me on what I did, particularly my second piece, my own little Art-Tatumesque play on “The Way You Look Tonight”
Then it was Kirk, doing lush, amazing-sounding stylings of blues and jazz in excerpts from “Rhapsody in Blue” and “All the Things You Are”.
Lynn Peacefull got out of her quandary by playing a simple piece written by her son. Quite simplistic actually, but perhaps a nice contrast to everything else.
Joel Mananquil also went simple, playing simple and pretty arrangements of Filipino Love Songs. He was funny when he returned to the backstage, thumping his chest to indicate that he was scared to death out there. He was honest about it in an endearing way, and I chatted with him quite a bit about the whole thing. His English is pretty broken, much more so than his Filipino bandmates, but for the first time the two of us really had something to talk about.
Then of course Irving came out and wowed them with his own medley he called “songs of the seas”, using excerpts of Debussey, Ravel and Chopin. We all came out and took a final bow, and it was over, thank goodness.
It would be typical of me to follow this up with a couple of gin and tonics. But it was still early, and I obeyed the more intelligent voice inside, which told me to go up to the walking track on Deck 3 and do a few laps. The immense ocean was amazingly peaceful-looking, like pond water, with the sun way low in the South Pacific sky, and it was a great 14 laps.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Move to the Left
Climbers make their way up to those two itty-bitty flags at the top.
The last stop in Australia was Sydney, on the Northeast coast. Sydney boasts a very pretty harbor, and the centerpiece of it all is a huge arch bridge. Wide enough for 6 lanes of car traffic, a train, an a pedestrian walkway, it purports to be the widest arch-style bridge in the world.
I heard that people “climb” the Sydney Harbor bridge. With the assistance of a harness and safety ropes, a person can make his way to the very top of the arch. Some kind of sobriety test and some level of physical fitness is required to make the climb.
Before heading over there to check it out, I sat in the crew mess with quite a few crew people watching the big-screen TV. It was Wednesday afternoon November 5, but in NYC it was Tuesday night November 4, and the Election results were coming in. At 3:30 PM McCain gave his very gracious concession speech, and I headed off to the bridge.
Along the way I heard Obama’s voice booming out of the open doors of a pub. I wandered in and found a dozen Aussies with their eyes riveted on the screen -- it was Obama’s victory speech in Chicago. Having been in Toastmasters for a few years, I like to watch a excellent speaker, and there aren’t too many better than Obama.
Maybe it was the Australian ale, but as soon as left the pub I yet again stepped into the street without looking to the correct (to the right) direction for cars. I jumped back on the curb to get out of the way of a car going 40 mph. During this voyage only two countries, Vietnam and China, drove cars on the right side, like USA. The left-siders, besides Australia, include Japan, Hong Kong, Thailand, Indonesia. Who knows, maybe it evens out when you take in the whole world.
Over at the entrance to the Bridge Climb they wanted to charge me $189 Aussie dollars (about $130 American) for the climb. Next to the counter was a gallery of thirty 8 x 10 glossy photos of celebrities up on top of the Sydney Harbor Bridge. Mostly actors and musicians -- Bette Midler, Michael Caine, Bruce Springsteen, Will Smith, Matt Damon. Also Al Gore, who some people consider to be an actor also. I wondered if these people paid the $130 to climb the bridge, or was it a freebie in return for the 8 x 10 photo.
Suddenly the whole bridge climb thing looked like a hype job to me, so I decided to use the walkway for “normal” folks and simply cross to the other side. Shortly after starting across, I found myself face to face with somebody who was heading in the other direction. I was walking along the rail on the right side. He was walking along the same rail. However to him it was “left”.
I conceded and moved to the left for this guy. Then I started walking along the rail again, on the right, and again found myself avoiding a head-on-collision with another walker. After two more such incidents it finally dawned on me that ALL of the bridge pedestrians were in the same pattern as the cars -- walking to the left of the direction faced.
I tried to remember if there was a pedestrian pattern, left or right, back in New York. Manhattan is so chaotic, with so many people walking at different speeds and directions and passing each other. Yet I think that under non-rush hour conditions, pedestrians stay to the right, like the cars. Anybody have an input on this?
A related curiosity is circular paths, like for horseracing, car racing, track and field events, the merry-go-round, the bumper cars at the amusement park.. Seems to me it’s always counter-clockwise. Even in baseball, the run around the bases is counter-clockwise.
There’s a “walking deck” on every cruise ship, and I always use them, trying to do an hour’s worth of laps. Almost everybody walks counterclockwise, without being told to. It comes naturally. Every now and then somebody chooses to go the other way. One result is that you have to pass this person face-to-face twice per lap. After giving somebody the customary “hello nod” or smile once or twice, you get sick of doing it and you deliberately look downward to avoid making eye contact with the jerk as he passes by for the umpteenth time.
Somebody told me they attended an Australian horse race, and the horses ran in the opposite (clockwise) direction. Must have been Australian-bred horses, I think an American racehorse would’ve refused to run. Then there’s that business of water going down the drain with a corkscrew pattern, and an opposite corkscrew pattern Down Under. Which might not have anything to do with anything, but I felt like mentioning it.
It’s a left-and-right, clockwise and counterclockwise world. Opposites everywhere you look. Sometimes you just gotta go with one and forgo the other, just for uniformity’s sake-- but also to keep things from crashing into each other.
Back on the ship later I chatted with a guest who thought Obama was terrific. A few days earlier I chatted with another guest who thought that Obama was Satan, and that she’d move to Mexico if he got elected. I hope she keeps her promise.
This is the Sydney Opera House, sitting on a man-made peninsula in the harbor with artsy architecture suggesting a sailboat…many ship guests were herded through this place. Nobody heard any opera.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Down Under
An American guy in his late 50s sets foot in Australia for the first time in his life. What does he spent most of the afternoon doing? Taking a public bus to a costume shop on the other end of town, to purchase a wig and beard for Halloween.
First there was a brief trip to the Post Office. The lady behind the counter assured me that Aussies have dress-up Halloween parties, in fact she would be going to such a party as the Statue of Liberty. This tempted me to respond in kind by being Crocodile Dundee or an aboriginal Australian forest guy. Being too heavy for either of those, I briefly considered being an overweight BeeGee.
All this pondering was done on a pretty bus on the way to a costume shop in this western Australian city of Perth. By the time I reached my destination, I‘d returned to Plan A -- utilizing my Viking horny helmet in some way. With the purchase of the tiger-stripe cloth in Singapore the previous week, I’d already lost the accurate Viking look. I compounded this by purchasing an evil-looking Genghis Khan FuManchu beard, and a wig of long black hair a la Cher. A Mongolian Viking with feminine leanings.
So nice to be in a foreign country where everybody speaks ENGLISH. The Crocodile Dundee style, mite. Mate becomes mite and ninety-nine becomes noinnty-noin. There was an Asian lady on the bus talking like this, so weird to see Aussie talk coming out of her.
When you were a kid you might have heard that you could (theoretically) dig a hole straight down into the ground, and reach China on the other side. Quite untrue, unless you dug a very crooked path. China and USA are both in the Northern Hemisphere, so the “antipodes” (to use a fancy geographer’s word) for both countries will be somewhere “down under”.
Anywhere in the USA, if you dug through the center of the earth, on the other side you’d wind up in the Indian Ocean. In fact the entire North American continent has the Indian Ocean as its antipode. The east USA coast antipodes would be the closest to land, with the New York City about 500 miles from Perth.
So being in Perth, I was about as close to being on the opposite side of the globe from NYC as I’ll ever get. This information plus about two dollars will get me a ride on any bus in Perth.
A few days prior to Perth, the ship crossed the equator and stopped at Bali, an Indonesian tropic isle a few degrees south of the equator, and it was the last stop of the Asian part of this voyage. Also the ONLY Indonesian stop, thank God. It was a beautiful place, but the natives saw the cruise ship as a money machine. Guests arriving at the dock were besieged by a swarm of native peddlers, from age 5 to age 85, with the most aggressive and annoying sales tactics I’ve ever seen.
After a little dickering, I hopped into a “cab” with a few crew people, and took a “guided tour”. To the driver’s credit, he did take us to a few Hindu temples that were high on the official list of Places To See in Bali.
To his discredit, he deliberately drove us to places where he knew there would be yet more peddlers, after we thought we’d escaped these leechy grabby people at the dock. One peddler sold me a shirt 5 miles inland, and then she somehow materialized back at the dock two hours later when we returned.
At one point we were taken to the Hindu “Mother Temple” of the Island. The cabdriver hung out in the parking lot after handing us off to his friends at the gate. We were required to wear a sari in order to enter the grounds, so we rented out the damn things for $3 apiece. We specifically said we did not need a tour guide, yet some annoying jerk with a turban and a big stupid mustache followed us the whole way, yakking out information. We acquiesced, allowed him to tag along, even asked him a few questions, including How Does It feel To Be Such an Annoying Jerk.
Bali is home to quite a few ship employees, the room attendants and dining room helpers who go out on 10-month contracts with Holland America. For the ship to actually stop in Indonesia was a rare thing, giving these employees an unusual opportunity to see their families while in the middle of a contract.
The ship graciously made provisions for Bali family members to get on the ship, as visitors, for a few hours. A large feast and party was held in the crew mess for a few hours. Lotsa smiles in the crew area later on.
So bring on the swagmen, kangaroos and boomerangs. Australia is not as far Down Under as I thought, dipping down no further than 40-45 degrees south, whereas NYC and Seattle are 40-45 degrees north. The day after Halloween -- which to me has a forboding “Here comes the Winter” feeling in New York, is instead down here a sort of gateway to the southern summer months. Christmas is warm and weird.
This is day 42, the 2/3 mark, time going fast, as always, as always, as always.
Shooting the sheet with the Sheet family
My new promo photo
First there was a brief trip to the Post Office. The lady behind the counter assured me that Aussies have dress-up Halloween parties, in fact she would be going to such a party as the Statue of Liberty. This tempted me to respond in kind by being Crocodile Dundee or an aboriginal Australian forest guy. Being too heavy for either of those, I briefly considered being an overweight BeeGee.
All this pondering was done on a pretty bus on the way to a costume shop in this western Australian city of Perth. By the time I reached my destination, I‘d returned to Plan A -- utilizing my Viking horny helmet in some way. With the purchase of the tiger-stripe cloth in Singapore the previous week, I’d already lost the accurate Viking look. I compounded this by purchasing an evil-looking Genghis Khan FuManchu beard, and a wig of long black hair a la Cher. A Mongolian Viking with feminine leanings.
So nice to be in a foreign country where everybody speaks ENGLISH. The Crocodile Dundee style, mite. Mate becomes mite and ninety-nine becomes noinnty-noin. There was an Asian lady on the bus talking like this, so weird to see Aussie talk coming out of her.
When you were a kid you might have heard that you could (theoretically) dig a hole straight down into the ground, and reach China on the other side. Quite untrue, unless you dug a very crooked path. China and USA are both in the Northern Hemisphere, so the “antipodes” (to use a fancy geographer’s word) for both countries will be somewhere “down under”.
Anywhere in the USA, if you dug through the center of the earth, on the other side you’d wind up in the Indian Ocean. In fact the entire North American continent has the Indian Ocean as its antipode. The east USA coast antipodes would be the closest to land, with the New York City about 500 miles from Perth.
So being in Perth, I was about as close to being on the opposite side of the globe from NYC as I’ll ever get. This information plus about two dollars will get me a ride on any bus in Perth.
A few days prior to Perth, the ship crossed the equator and stopped at Bali, an Indonesian tropic isle a few degrees south of the equator, and it was the last stop of the Asian part of this voyage. Also the ONLY Indonesian stop, thank God. It was a beautiful place, but the natives saw the cruise ship as a money machine. Guests arriving at the dock were besieged by a swarm of native peddlers, from age 5 to age 85, with the most aggressive and annoying sales tactics I’ve ever seen.
After a little dickering, I hopped into a “cab” with a few crew people, and took a “guided tour”. To the driver’s credit, he did take us to a few Hindu temples that were high on the official list of Places To See in Bali.
To his discredit, he deliberately drove us to places where he knew there would be yet more peddlers, after we thought we’d escaped these leechy grabby people at the dock. One peddler sold me a shirt 5 miles inland, and then she somehow materialized back at the dock two hours later when we returned.
At one point we were taken to the Hindu “Mother Temple” of the Island. The cabdriver hung out in the parking lot after handing us off to his friends at the gate. We were required to wear a sari in order to enter the grounds, so we rented out the damn things for $3 apiece. We specifically said we did not need a tour guide, yet some annoying jerk with a turban and a big stupid mustache followed us the whole way, yakking out information. We acquiesced, allowed him to tag along, even asked him a few questions, including How Does It feel To Be Such an Annoying Jerk.
Bali is home to quite a few ship employees, the room attendants and dining room helpers who go out on 10-month contracts with Holland America. For the ship to actually stop in Indonesia was a rare thing, giving these employees an unusual opportunity to see their families while in the middle of a contract.
The ship graciously made provisions for Bali family members to get on the ship, as visitors, for a few hours. A large feast and party was held in the crew mess for a few hours. Lotsa smiles in the crew area later on.
So bring on the swagmen, kangaroos and boomerangs. Australia is not as far Down Under as I thought, dipping down no further than 40-45 degrees south, whereas NYC and Seattle are 40-45 degrees north. The day after Halloween -- which to me has a forboding “Here comes the Winter” feeling in New York, is instead down here a sort of gateway to the southern summer months. Christmas is warm and weird.
This is day 42, the 2/3 mark, time going fast, as always, as always, as always.
Shooting the sheet with the Sheet family
Leo and Henry, Filipino bar staff colleagues in the Rembrandt Lounge
My new promo photoFriday, October 31, 2008
Unkateeve in Singapore
Long ago, when my niece Eileen was a toddler, her attempt to say “Uncle Steve” came out as “Unkateeve” -- it was cute, and the name Unkateeve occasionally has popped up over the years, long long after Eileen got my name right.
Eileen has been in Singapore for three years, teaching animation art at the University. I hadn’t seen her in years, and suddenly the ms Amsterdam was approaching Singapore.
On Oct 22 I met her at the terminal, with a plastic Viking helmet on my head, complete with horns, and a Thailand umbrella as a little gift. The two items together were pretty incongruent, and made for a pretty goofy photograph, especially when you throw in a New York Mets T-shirt. So cosmopolitan I am.
But there was purpose here -- the umbrella was a gift (why do I keep typing umbreela?) -- and the Viking helmet was the centerpiece of my Halloween costume-to-be. With an artsy lady like Eileen as a consultant, I thought Singapore would be a good place to add stuff to the costume.
We got a pretty decent piece of velour-like cloth that could serve as an upper-body garment, with a tiger stripe pattern. It didn’t occur to either of us that there are no tigers in Scandinavia and the tiger stripes were yet another incongruent thing.
We were in a time crunch, and had to give up on the wig/beard search, surprisingly two different costume shops were unable to sell me these items. So we went to a “Microbrewery” in downtown Singapore, where you can look thru the window and see the huge metal vats that brew the beer. They had a special where you sample a dozen different styles of beer. This plus catch-up family chitchat made for a fine afternoon, but Unkateeve was back on the ship by 4:00PM, having enjoyed a terrific tour of Singapore. Thank you Eileen.
Singapore is the halfway point of the grand Asia-Australia tour. And 300 people disembarked at Singpore, having purchased “only” the first half of the voyage. They were not completely replaced, I hear only 70 new people got on. Possibly because the second half of the voyage has 20 sea days out of 33 sea days, and the first half had only 15 sea days out of 32 days.
So now there will be less ports to occupy people’s time with. The staff will be hard-pressed to dream up interesting “stuff to do” -- especially for the great majority that purchased the whole 65-day voyage.
In the piano lounge I’ve hosted numerous contests, “Name That Tune - 60s tunes” -- “Name That Tune - tune titles beginning with letter S” - “Name That Tune - one-word titles” - “Name That Tune - generic” , Elvis Hour, Sinatra Hour, Open Mic, and “Fill in the Missing Lyric” -- my twist on the hit TV show. All the contests result in trinket prizes, among them Holland America coffee mugs, Holland America key chains, Holland America luggage tags. But people compete quite seriously, and can get pretty contentious about the point system. Bob Barker I ain’t, but think I can increase my value around here by thinking up more “events”.
Right after Singapore the ship crosses the equator, continues through the tropics and makes its way to the south side of Australia ("...is the baddest part of town...and if you go down there ya better best beware...")
Oops, excuse me, couldn't help that. Anyway -- the ship will reach about 40-45 degrees south latitude, the opposite of the 40-45 degrees north latitude on Long Island. So in early November it'll be well into spring down there.
Eileen has been in Singapore for three years, teaching animation art at the University. I hadn’t seen her in years, and suddenly the ms Amsterdam was approaching Singapore.
On Oct 22 I met her at the terminal, with a plastic Viking helmet on my head, complete with horns, and a Thailand umbrella as a little gift. The two items together were pretty incongruent, and made for a pretty goofy photograph, especially when you throw in a New York Mets T-shirt. So cosmopolitan I am.
But there was purpose here -- the umbrella was a gift (why do I keep typing umbreela?) -- and the Viking helmet was the centerpiece of my Halloween costume-to-be. With an artsy lady like Eileen as a consultant, I thought Singapore would be a good place to add stuff to the costume.
We got a pretty decent piece of velour-like cloth that could serve as an upper-body garment, with a tiger stripe pattern. It didn’t occur to either of us that there are no tigers in Scandinavia and the tiger stripes were yet another incongruent thing.
We were in a time crunch, and had to give up on the wig/beard search, surprisingly two different costume shops were unable to sell me these items. So we went to a “Microbrewery” in downtown Singapore, where you can look thru the window and see the huge metal vats that brew the beer. They had a special where you sample a dozen different styles of beer. This plus catch-up family chitchat made for a fine afternoon, but Unkateeve was back on the ship by 4:00PM, having enjoyed a terrific tour of Singapore. Thank you Eileen.
Singapore is the halfway point of the grand Asia-Australia tour. And 300 people disembarked at Singpore, having purchased “only” the first half of the voyage. They were not completely replaced, I hear only 70 new people got on. Possibly because the second half of the voyage has 20 sea days out of 33 sea days, and the first half had only 15 sea days out of 32 days.
So now there will be less ports to occupy people’s time with. The staff will be hard-pressed to dream up interesting “stuff to do” -- especially for the great majority that purchased the whole 65-day voyage.
In the piano lounge I’ve hosted numerous contests, “Name That Tune - 60s tunes” -- “Name That Tune - tune titles beginning with letter S” - “Name That Tune - one-word titles” - “Name That Tune - generic” , Elvis Hour, Sinatra Hour, Open Mic, and “Fill in the Missing Lyric” -- my twist on the hit TV show. All the contests result in trinket prizes, among them Holland America coffee mugs, Holland America key chains, Holland America luggage tags. But people compete quite seriously, and can get pretty contentious about the point system. Bob Barker I ain’t, but think I can increase my value around here by thinking up more “events”.
Right after Singapore the ship crosses the equator, continues through the tropics and makes its way to the south side of Australia ("...is the baddest part of town...and if you go down there ya better best beware...")
Oops, excuse me, couldn't help that. Anyway -- the ship will reach about 40-45 degrees south latitude, the opposite of the 40-45 degrees north latitude on Long Island. So in early November it'll be well into spring down there.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Thailand
Bangkok is on a river too shallow for cruise ships, so the ship docked at a place called Laem Chabang. It required a 2-hour bus ride to get to Bangkok. And EVERYBODY wanted to go to Bangkok. 17 buses headed up there, and once again I was fortunate enough to be a Tour Escort.The Grand Palace in Bangkok is one of the biggest highlights of this entire voyage. It’s a huge complex of incredibly ornate buildings, built for the Thai royalty. Buddhism and royalty are bound together here, and kings have the spiritual status of Pharaohs.
The complex was started in the late 1700s, and apparently there was unlimited budget and labor. Nowadays, certain religious and royal events still happen in the complex, but you’d never know it. There is a gate, with tickets to purchase, and throngs of tourists.
But once you get in there, you can’t help but be overwhelmed by the magnificence of the architecture. Like everybody else, you pull out your camera and start clicking away.
There was a second visit in Thailand, two days later, to a tropical isle called Samui. For all its palm trees and forest and seashore, Samui also had a major tourist stop in the form of a big Golden Buddha, perched on a high hill overlooking the sea. Big parking lot for the place, and many tour buses. Many adjacent gift shops selling little gold buddhas for $20 apiece, a little pot-bellied guy with a big smiling face, and I almost bought one.
Couldn’t do it. I felt ridiculous. Perhaps the Big Buddha of Samui and the Grand Palace complex of Bangkok were built with solemnity and lofty intentions from long ago. But the commercialism reduces the whole thing to the mundane. Apparently with Buddhist approval. Oh well, enjoy the damn pictures.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Santa and the Penguins
Approximately 30,000 years ago, man started migrating from the African cradle of civilization. A huge portion of mankind went toward the lands now known as China and India.
A large portion of those people traveled further, following a long and winding land bridge to an incredible fertile place they called Australia. This land had no deserts, only beautiful greenery and attractive temperate climate. This land came to be the most populated area on earth. Culture grew, with the first human developments in philosophy and creative literature and science.
The Australians developed large ships before the other populations of the world, and eventually started reaching beyond its shores toward the nearby Indonesian islands in one direction, and , in the other direction, the cold and forbidding place they called Antarctica.
Their voyaging came with a precise knowledge of the heavens above, as star charts became indispensable to sea travel. They noted that the stars seemed to revolve around a fixed point above Antarctica. They called this the North Celestial Axis. Anybody facing this celestial axis was said to be facing “North”. The opposite direction -- toward Indonesia, was called “South”
Maps got larger in size, representing larger and larger areas, as the Australians knowledge grew. The top of the map was always the North direction, with the useless Antarctic land mass at the top.
Eventually the world was proven to be spherical, with navigators sailing around it in every direction.
Globes were manufactured, now accurately showing what the world looked like. Some globes were mounted so as to be spinned, on a 23 ½ degree axis, to imitate the now-known rotation of the earth.
As a simple expansion of the “map” idea, the globe had Antarctica at the top. Some referred to the area as the North Pole, and the fabled character called Santa Claus was said to live there, with thousands of penguin-elves helping make toys for the children of the world.
In the 18th Century, models of the solar system were drawn, Planetariums were built to represent the earth and other planets moving around the sun. Conveniently, the nine planets moved around the sun on the same plane, together describing a “disc” spinning like a record. The visible side of the record, with the turntable needle on it, showed the North side of all the planets. Including of course, Antarctica, Australia, and the northern part of Africa.
The rotation of the earth demanded a corresponding celestial axis point on the other end of the earth, and it turned out to be a watery area, covered by an ice cap. There was a solitary star located exactly on the Southern axis, thus called the South Star. The Southern half of the heavens had some of the most attractive constellations, like Orion and the Big Dipper. Primitive peoples were found far south, among them the Eskimos, Siberians, and Scandinavians. They were said to be living “Down Under” , and the Scandinavian pop group ABBA had a hit song by that title in 1983.
Space satellites eventually provided photographic proof of what the earth looked like. The Australians had it exactly right. Beautiful photos were produced of Antarctic North Pole area, with Australia just to the south of it, Indonesia further south, past the equator, China, the Siberian “Down Under” area, and the South polar icecap.
In the year 2750, a spaceship from a faraway galaxy approached the solar system, and saw it exactly as earthlings had pictured it. They saw a “disc” of planets rotating the sun. One of the aliens wondered if they were looking at the “A” side or the “B” side of the disc. The answer of course, was that it didn’t matter.
A large portion of those people traveled further, following a long and winding land bridge to an incredible fertile place they called Australia. This land had no deserts, only beautiful greenery and attractive temperate climate. This land came to be the most populated area on earth. Culture grew, with the first human developments in philosophy and creative literature and science.
The Australians developed large ships before the other populations of the world, and eventually started reaching beyond its shores toward the nearby Indonesian islands in one direction, and , in the other direction, the cold and forbidding place they called Antarctica.
Their voyaging came with a precise knowledge of the heavens above, as star charts became indispensable to sea travel. They noted that the stars seemed to revolve around a fixed point above Antarctica. They called this the North Celestial Axis. Anybody facing this celestial axis was said to be facing “North”. The opposite direction -- toward Indonesia, was called “South”
Maps got larger in size, representing larger and larger areas, as the Australians knowledge grew. The top of the map was always the North direction, with the useless Antarctic land mass at the top.
Eventually the world was proven to be spherical, with navigators sailing around it in every direction.
Globes were manufactured, now accurately showing what the world looked like. Some globes were mounted so as to be spinned, on a 23 ½ degree axis, to imitate the now-known rotation of the earth.
As a simple expansion of the “map” idea, the globe had Antarctica at the top. Some referred to the area as the North Pole, and the fabled character called Santa Claus was said to live there, with thousands of penguin-elves helping make toys for the children of the world.
In the 18th Century, models of the solar system were drawn, Planetariums were built to represent the earth and other planets moving around the sun. Conveniently, the nine planets moved around the sun on the same plane, together describing a “disc” spinning like a record. The visible side of the record, with the turntable needle on it, showed the North side of all the planets. Including of course, Antarctica, Australia, and the northern part of Africa.
The rotation of the earth demanded a corresponding celestial axis point on the other end of the earth, and it turned out to be a watery area, covered by an ice cap. There was a solitary star located exactly on the Southern axis, thus called the South Star. The Southern half of the heavens had some of the most attractive constellations, like Orion and the Big Dipper. Primitive peoples were found far south, among them the Eskimos, Siberians, and Scandinavians. They were said to be living “Down Under” , and the Scandinavian pop group ABBA had a hit song by that title in 1983.
Space satellites eventually provided photographic proof of what the earth looked like. The Australians had it exactly right. Beautiful photos were produced of Antarctic North Pole area, with Australia just to the south of it, Indonesia further south, past the equator, China, the Siberian “Down Under” area, and the South polar icecap.
In the year 2750, a spaceship from a faraway galaxy approached the solar system, and saw it exactly as earthlings had pictured it. They saw a “disc” of planets rotating the sun. One of the aliens wondered if they were looking at the “A” side or the “B” side of the disc. The answer of course, was that it didn’t matter.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Two Tours in Vietnam
On the morning of Oct 14 we were in Da Nang. I had successfully applied to be a tour escort for this day, so at 8:15 AM I was standing out on the dock in front of tour bus #8, with a big metal flag with a big red number 8 on it.
36 guests got on the bus, and it was a 45 minute ride from Da Nang to a little town out in the rice paddies called Hoi An. Along the way we saw the huge distinction between the Haves and Have-nots, as a series of squalid hovels would suddenly give way to some fenced-off resort hotel along the beach.
But I’ll remember this day for the angst and difficulty with trying to be a Tour Escort for Holland America. This group of guests was full of spaced-out, inconsiderate persons who didn’t care if they got lost in this crappy little town out in the middle of nowhere, didn’t care if they fell behind the group. If they missed the bus, it would be a huge problem getting transportation back.
But my job was to keep this group together, not allow people to straggle behind and wander, also not allow the Vietnamese tour guide from moving too fast.
You have to picture this. A narrow road in a congested, little village in the boonies of Vietnam, all the little skinny residents dirt poor. Some Vietnamese kid (25 years old) is the tour guide, with poor English skills, leading the way, and these 36 old Americans are walking almost single file. The distance between the first and the last is constantly increasing, as the weakest old people slow down, and as others get distracted, stopping to take pictures, talk to peddlers, look at postcards and other crap, buy bottles of water……
…..oh yeah, the weather suddenly got brutal at about 9:41 AM. It suddenly dawned on all of us, This is a goddam steambath. Really nasty tropical humidity.
Everybody really wanted to go their own way, instead of following this incompetent Vietnamese tour guide, who made laughable efforts to gather us up and tell us about some “point of interest” in the town. His voice had no projection, no expression, and barely recognizable English words.
All this chaos was reported on a form I was given to fill out. I trashed the tour guide especially. I faulted many guests for constantly falling behind the group, with Yours Truly doing his best to nudge them along diplomatically. Nonetheless, one of them told me I was rude, something like “I paid for this tour and I don’t like being pushed”.
Two days later, On Oct 16, the ship arrived at Phu My, further down the coastline from Da Nang. 40 miles inland from Phu My is Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon.
Once again I got to be a tour escort, this time it was called “A taste of Vietnamese Cuisine” -- where guests are taken to the Saigon Culinary Arts Center and cooked things under the direction of a Vietnamese Executive Chef.
My idea of cooking is throwing a can of Hormel chili in a pot and heating it up. Throwing in a can of corn with it would be getting fancy.
So this Vietnamese Cuisine thing was of zero interest to me, but I went along as Tour Escort so I could see Ho Chi Minh City. It would have been dicey and difficult to do it without the auspices of a tour, especially here.
The boulevard running from Phu My to Ho Chi Minh City is about 40 miles long. Guests looking out the windows were aghast at how bad this country looked, for the entire length of the ride. Arriving at Ho Chi Minh City you get a slight hint of wealth and style in the city center, but it’s gone in an instant.
Part of the tour agenda was a walk through a Vietnamese marketplace to look at the raw materials that everybody would cook with. Like with the previous tour two days prior, the market visit was a chaotic struggle to negotiate narrow aisles and walls of people, trying to keep the guests in view. I could just see the headline “80-year old American tourist kidnapped in Vietnamese market.”
About a hour later the tour bus arrived at the "main course" of the excursion. We all got off the bus and were led down a back alley. After walking about 150 feet we entered the "Saigon Culinary Arts Center", which had as much professional ambiance as the mens room at Grand Central Station. Just one big un-airconditioned lousy ground floor, with a bunch of tables with little one-burner stoves on them, in a semi-circle around the executive chef's little dais where he delivered instructions.
I hadn't intended to participate in the cooking anyway, but now it appeared there was no comfortable place to even hang out inconspicuously, no lobby, no waiting room, no back room, etc. The tour bus was gone. It was lunchtime, so I got bold and I went strolling in this surreal city on the other side of the planet, looking for a some kind of cafe. I passed by quite a few places that could have been named Steve's Last Meal on Earth, finally settled on one pretty passable place.
The stroll was weird, perhaps a little dicey, a middle-aged overfed American wandering by himself in the Viet Ghetto land of coolie hats, toothless smiles, and especially funky old motor scooters. Much more motor scooters than China. The Vietnamese flag should simply have the image of a motor scooter.
I found a café, ordered a grilled frog. With coke and fries of course. No attempt on their part to conceal the look of the original animal. There was ol’ Flip the Frog himself, decapitated and spreadeagled on the plate. I got the feeling he was captured in the backyard a few minutes after I ordered. Tasted like chicken.
Paying the bill was a big problem, due to total language barrier and the ridiculous rate of inflation in Vietnam. I was amused to find out that the unit of currency in Vietnam is the Dong. No joke. And it deserves to have a funny name because the exchange rate for it is pretty funny. One dollar equals 16,500 Dong.
Knowing absolutely nothing of each other’s language, we got out pens and paper, looked at the bill together, he did his calculations and kept circling the number 84 at the end. As if the frog, fries and coke was $84. I don’t know how willing I was to part with $84 just to avoid trouble. I was quite outnumbered in my surroundings.
Finally a breakthrough, I realized that “84” was his shorthand for 84,000 Dong. A little over $5. I tipped them, all smiles, have a good day.
Meanwhile back at the Cooking school, the 30 guests were receiving their “diplomas” -- silly rolled-up papers tied in ribbon, certifying their participation in this seminar.
As the bus threaded its way through town we passed the city center again, past a statue of Ho Chi Minh, the George Washington of this stupid country. Nobody wanted to stop the bus for a closer look. In my wallet were a few denominations of Dong -- 2000, 10000, and 20000, with Ho Chi Minh’s ugly face, stupid long goatee and all, on each bill -- a fine fate, your face etched on every bill of a currency that’s almost worthless.
The ride back, and other discussions on the ship later on, focused on America’s military involvement here 40 years ago. Tempers can still flare on this subject after all this time. But the debates subsided, and people settled back into their airconditioned cabins that evening as the ship pulled out of Vietnam and headed for far more pleasant places.
36 guests got on the bus, and it was a 45 minute ride from Da Nang to a little town out in the rice paddies called Hoi An. Along the way we saw the huge distinction between the Haves and Have-nots, as a series of squalid hovels would suddenly give way to some fenced-off resort hotel along the beach.
But I’ll remember this day for the angst and difficulty with trying to be a Tour Escort for Holland America. This group of guests was full of spaced-out, inconsiderate persons who didn’t care if they got lost in this crappy little town out in the middle of nowhere, didn’t care if they fell behind the group. If they missed the bus, it would be a huge problem getting transportation back.
But my job was to keep this group together, not allow people to straggle behind and wander, also not allow the Vietnamese tour guide from moving too fast.
You have to picture this. A narrow road in a congested, little village in the boonies of Vietnam, all the little skinny residents dirt poor. Some Vietnamese kid (25 years old) is the tour guide, with poor English skills, leading the way, and these 36 old Americans are walking almost single file. The distance between the first and the last is constantly increasing, as the weakest old people slow down, and as others get distracted, stopping to take pictures, talk to peddlers, look at postcards and other crap, buy bottles of water……
…..oh yeah, the weather suddenly got brutal at about 9:41 AM. It suddenly dawned on all of us, This is a goddam steambath. Really nasty tropical humidity.
Everybody really wanted to go their own way, instead of following this incompetent Vietnamese tour guide, who made laughable efforts to gather us up and tell us about some “point of interest” in the town. His voice had no projection, no expression, and barely recognizable English words.
All this chaos was reported on a form I was given to fill out. I trashed the tour guide especially. I faulted many guests for constantly falling behind the group, with Yours Truly doing his best to nudge them along diplomatically. Nonetheless, one of them told me I was rude, something like “I paid for this tour and I don’t like being pushed”.
Two days later, On Oct 16, the ship arrived at Phu My, further down the coastline from Da Nang. 40 miles inland from Phu My is Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon.
Once again I got to be a tour escort, this time it was called “A taste of Vietnamese Cuisine” -- where guests are taken to the Saigon Culinary Arts Center and cooked things under the direction of a Vietnamese Executive Chef.
My idea of cooking is throwing a can of Hormel chili in a pot and heating it up. Throwing in a can of corn with it would be getting fancy.
So this Vietnamese Cuisine thing was of zero interest to me, but I went along as Tour Escort so I could see Ho Chi Minh City. It would have been dicey and difficult to do it without the auspices of a tour, especially here.
The boulevard running from Phu My to Ho Chi Minh City is about 40 miles long. Guests looking out the windows were aghast at how bad this country looked, for the entire length of the ride. Arriving at Ho Chi Minh City you get a slight hint of wealth and style in the city center, but it’s gone in an instant.
Part of the tour agenda was a walk through a Vietnamese marketplace to look at the raw materials that everybody would cook with. Like with the previous tour two days prior, the market visit was a chaotic struggle to negotiate narrow aisles and walls of people, trying to keep the guests in view. I could just see the headline “80-year old American tourist kidnapped in Vietnamese market.”
About a hour later the tour bus arrived at the "main course" of the excursion. We all got off the bus and were led down a back alley. After walking about 150 feet we entered the "Saigon Culinary Arts Center", which had as much professional ambiance as the mens room at Grand Central Station. Just one big un-airconditioned lousy ground floor, with a bunch of tables with little one-burner stoves on them, in a semi-circle around the executive chef's little dais where he delivered instructions.
I hadn't intended to participate in the cooking anyway, but now it appeared there was no comfortable place to even hang out inconspicuously, no lobby, no waiting room, no back room, etc. The tour bus was gone. It was lunchtime, so I got bold and I went strolling in this surreal city on the other side of the planet, looking for a some kind of cafe. I passed by quite a few places that could have been named Steve's Last Meal on Earth, finally settled on one pretty passable place.
The stroll was weird, perhaps a little dicey, a middle-aged overfed American wandering by himself in the Viet Ghetto land of coolie hats, toothless smiles, and especially funky old motor scooters. Much more motor scooters than China. The Vietnamese flag should simply have the image of a motor scooter.
I found a café, ordered a grilled frog. With coke and fries of course. No attempt on their part to conceal the look of the original animal. There was ol’ Flip the Frog himself, decapitated and spreadeagled on the plate. I got the feeling he was captured in the backyard a few minutes after I ordered. Tasted like chicken.
Paying the bill was a big problem, due to total language barrier and the ridiculous rate of inflation in Vietnam. I was amused to find out that the unit of currency in Vietnam is the Dong. No joke. And it deserves to have a funny name because the exchange rate for it is pretty funny. One dollar equals 16,500 Dong.
Knowing absolutely nothing of each other’s language, we got out pens and paper, looked at the bill together, he did his calculations and kept circling the number 84 at the end. As if the frog, fries and coke was $84. I don’t know how willing I was to part with $84 just to avoid trouble. I was quite outnumbered in my surroundings.
Finally a breakthrough, I realized that “84” was his shorthand for 84,000 Dong. A little over $5. I tipped them, all smiles, have a good day.
Meanwhile back at the Cooking school, the 30 guests were receiving their “diplomas” -- silly rolled-up papers tied in ribbon, certifying their participation in this seminar.
As the bus threaded its way through town we passed the city center again, past a statue of Ho Chi Minh, the George Washington of this stupid country. Nobody wanted to stop the bus for a closer look. In my wallet were a few denominations of Dong -- 2000, 10000, and 20000, with Ho Chi Minh’s ugly face, stupid long goatee and all, on each bill -- a fine fate, your face etched on every bill of a currency that’s almost worthless.
The ride back, and other discussions on the ship later on, focused on America’s military involvement here 40 years ago. Tempers can still flare on this subject after all this time. But the debates subsided, and people settled back into their airconditioned cabins that evening as the ship pulled out of Vietnam and headed for far more pleasant places.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Bird Men of Hong Kong
Hong Kong was my first opportunity to be a Tour Escort. This is a rather cool job, in which a ship employee accompanies the passengers on a particular tour. (also called an “excursion”). The name of this excursion was “A Day in the Life of Hong Kong”.The bus took off at 9:15AM with 36 ship guests, and a few minutes later pulled into a huge parking lot. This was the parking lot for the Taoist temple, and I was stunned at the amount of other tour buses. I counted over FORTY tour buses in this parking lot.
A few minutes later we were in the middle of a mob scene on the temple grounds. The actual Taoist worshippers were quite few in number, maybe 20 or 30 or so that I saw, inside and outside the temple. Our tour group was on a strict schedule, so we were herded like cattle into the temple, with cameras clicking away, filing past a certain worship area, where people were on their knees, shaking little sticks in a tin can, asking advice from the gods.
Yes - multigods, like in Greece and Rome. The tour guide said each god was a former living person who somehow distinguished themselves during life, something like a saint in Catholicism, but much more elevated. Made me wonder how good a life I would lead if there was a chance of becoming a god later on. That could really motivate me.
Anyway, the tour got more pleasant after we got away from the awful visit to the temple. After a peaceful ½ hour visit to a historic old park, we moved on to the third and most interesting stop….
…The Bird Garden and Market. The tour guide, a lifelong Hong Kong resident, said that space is very limited in the apartments, 350 sq feet being typical, and so it’s inconvenient to own cats, and especially dogs. So birds are the most common pet.
In the afternoon, men leave their apartments, carrying bird in cage, and “take the bird for a walk”, as the tour guide put it. They gather up in this little park area with other bird owners, hang the birdcage on long racks provided for that purpose. Then they stand around and chat, usually about birds I guess. Take that back. I don’t know what the hell they talk about.
Adjacent to this little park is a series of stores, a little mall of sorts, selling birds, cages, and bird food. The tour guests got a kick out of all this, snapping photos of these guys with their birds. The question was asked, “Why is it only men? Where are the wives?” Tour guide’s answer -- “they’re all home playing mah jongg”. So this birdwalking routine is a way for husbands and wives to get a break from each other. All of the men looked middle-aged, but I forgot to ask why.
The last stop on this 4-hour tour was Hong Kong History museum. There was only an hour to check it out, and I got antsy after 15 minutes looking at more pottery from the Ding Dong dynasty. The gift shop in the lobby seemed more interesting. So cultured I am.
I was particularly interested in postcards depicting the mesmerizing nighttime skyline of Hong Kong. It’s kinda famous, and it ought to be. From right to left it stretches longer than the Manhattan skyline. The buildings are newer, and you get the feeling it was all built together as part of a unified look. Everything is from 20 to 50 stories high. The whole thing is framed by the crest of the mountains behind it, no building taller than that crest.
At 8:00PM the buildings put on a light show, with each building participating with its own flashing colored pattern, also green laser beams coming from some buildings, swinging around in arcs like krieg lights. Gorgeous in a hi-tech way, if you happen to like neon. The left side of the ship faced this skyline two nights in a row, in fact from the piano I had an all-evening window view, a really nice way to remember Hong Kong.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Japan Photos
cool-looking bridge in Aomori
"sittin' on the dock of Tokyo BaY, wastin' tiiiiime..."
no hot coffee here
"sittin' on the dock of Tokyo BaY, wastin' tiiiiime..."
no hot coffee here
or here
Buddhist temple in Kyoto
pisces manhole cover -- I looked around for other zodiac manhole covers, no luck
does anybody know what this sign says?
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Shanghai Shots
Chinese kids posing in front of the Chairman Mao statue
In the Shanghai Museum - 5 foot demon statue from the Ding Dong dynasty
Escort service ad in taxicab
Escort service ad in taxicab
Front car of the Maglev train
The Pearl Tower is the centerpiece of the "new 21st Century Shanghai"
Motorscooters, mopeds and bicycles at intersection, held in place by the Traffic Director on the far right
Lance Armstrong eat your heart out
Motorscooters, mopeds and bicycles at intersection, held in place by the Traffic Director on the far right
Lance Armstrong eat your heart out
He didn't know "Leroy Brown" but I tipped him anyway
Friday, October 10, 2008
Slow Boat to China...
…fast train to the airport. Fast, as in 268 mph.
Shanghai is home to the world’s first commercial MAGLEV train (Maglev as in “Magnetic Levitation”).
Somehow they force two repelling magnetic fields to face each other, one coming down from the train, one coming up from the track. And the train levitates! About an inch above the track. No ground resistance, so it can zoom on a 20-mile ride to the airport in just 7 minutes.
Well I just had to check this out, so I took a cab from downtown Shanghai out to Maglev terminal in the suburbs, something like taking a cab from Manhattan to Hicksville.
The only available ride is the 20 mile ride from this terminal out to the airport. I had no need for the airport, but Joe Tourist that I am, I bought a roundtrip ticket for 80 Yuan, which is about $12. I was prepared to pay more.
Oh by the way. What’s the deal with this guy Chairman Mao? I had Chinese paper currency in 5 yuan, 10 yuan, 50 yuan, and 100 yuan denominations, and this guy’s picture was on ALL of these bills. Don’t they have any other heroes in this country? In Canada and USA at least, the glory is spread around -- Lincoln, Washington, Roosevelt, even a lousy president like Grant on the $50 bill. The Chinese should mix things up, find a famous emperor from the Ming or Xing or Ting Tang or Ding Dong dynasties or whatever. Even a picture of Charlie Chan or David Carradine would do. OK, now I feel better.
Anyway, it was an exciting ride. It was advertised to be smooth. There was almost no noise, just a low-volume hum. There was some occasional bumping and jostling, which is a mite scary at 268 mph.
Perched 30-40 feet in the air, the Maglev passed by expressways with cars going 60 mph, those cars looked like they were parked. There was a digital sign at the front of my Maglev car, with a readout of the train’s speed. When it reached the maximum readout of 431 Km, I looked around for some OOHS and WOWS. But I was the only American Joe Tourist in this car, and the other passengers, all Chinese, were hardly impressed, doing their reading, sleeping, etc, like it was just a trip on the Long Island Railroad.
The Shanghai Maglev has been around since 2004, and has been a financial disappointment. Unexpectedly, many people simply chose to take taxis to the airport, since cabfare is very affordable in Shanghai. Thus far there hasn’t been enough Joe Tourists to make up the slack.
But Maglev still seems to be the Train of the Future, and there’s talk about running a 170-mile Maglev from Shanghai to another city.
In experimental runs, they’ve reached 350 mph. So you can picture a Maglev taking 9 hours to zoom across the whole USA. I gotta stick around for that.
Shanghai is home to the world’s first commercial MAGLEV train (Maglev as in “Magnetic Levitation”).
Somehow they force two repelling magnetic fields to face each other, one coming down from the train, one coming up from the track. And the train levitates! About an inch above the track. No ground resistance, so it can zoom on a 20-mile ride to the airport in just 7 minutes.
Well I just had to check this out, so I took a cab from downtown Shanghai out to Maglev terminal in the suburbs, something like taking a cab from Manhattan to Hicksville.
The only available ride is the 20 mile ride from this terminal out to the airport. I had no need for the airport, but Joe Tourist that I am, I bought a roundtrip ticket for 80 Yuan, which is about $12. I was prepared to pay more.
Oh by the way. What’s the deal with this guy Chairman Mao? I had Chinese paper currency in 5 yuan, 10 yuan, 50 yuan, and 100 yuan denominations, and this guy’s picture was on ALL of these bills. Don’t they have any other heroes in this country? In Canada and USA at least, the glory is spread around -- Lincoln, Washington, Roosevelt, even a lousy president like Grant on the $50 bill. The Chinese should mix things up, find a famous emperor from the Ming or Xing or Ting Tang or Ding Dong dynasties or whatever. Even a picture of Charlie Chan or David Carradine would do. OK, now I feel better.
Anyway, it was an exciting ride. It was advertised to be smooth. There was almost no noise, just a low-volume hum. There was some occasional bumping and jostling, which is a mite scary at 268 mph.
Perched 30-40 feet in the air, the Maglev passed by expressways with cars going 60 mph, those cars looked like they were parked. There was a digital sign at the front of my Maglev car, with a readout of the train’s speed. When it reached the maximum readout of 431 Km, I looked around for some OOHS and WOWS. But I was the only American Joe Tourist in this car, and the other passengers, all Chinese, were hardly impressed, doing their reading, sleeping, etc, like it was just a trip on the Long Island Railroad.
The Shanghai Maglev has been around since 2004, and has been a financial disappointment. Unexpectedly, many people simply chose to take taxis to the airport, since cabfare is very affordable in Shanghai. Thus far there hasn’t been enough Joe Tourists to make up the slack.
But Maglev still seems to be the Train of the Future, and there’s talk about running a 170-mile Maglev from Shanghai to another city.
In experimental runs, they’ve reached 350 mph. So you can picture a Maglev taking 9 hours to zoom across the whole USA. I gotta stick around for that.
Thar She Blows
I’m into my second attempt to read “Moby Dick”, the literary classic by Herman Melville. My first attempt (25 years ago) failed because I was too impatient to absorb the more thoughtful passages, especially with Melville’s mid-nineteenth century writing style.
In fact, “Moby Dick” was not too well-received at first, back in 1850, being criticized as digressing and meandering too much. 100 years later, all the “unnecessary” stuff was left out of the movie version, and it made for a cool movie. The Gregory Peck version of Captain Ahab is pretty well stuck in my head, no matter how the book describes the character.
The narrating character, a somewhat spaced-out young guy named Ishmael, enjoyed being the lookout up on top of the mast, in the crow’s nest, 100 feet in the air. Up there he truly “got away from it all” --
“There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves. The tranced ship indolently rolls; the drowsy trade winds blow; everything resolves you into languor. For the most part, in this tropic whaling life, a sublime uneventfulness invests you; you hear no news; read no gazettes; extras with startling accounts of commonplaces never delude you into unnecessary excitements; bankrupt securities; fall of stocks….” , so says Ishmael in one of his dreamy passages.
Bankrupt securities? Fall of stocks? So strange, people were concerned about that stuff way back in 1850. But if you were a young guy like Ishmael, you could free yourself from the whole thing by going out on a 3-year whaling contract. Even if you had some stock investments, the 3 years at sea would force you to forget about it for that time.
Judging by the financial news of the past few days, I think there’s a few million people who could use a few weeks on an 1850 whaling ship, with a couple of two-hour shifts a day up in the crow’s nest, looking around for whales. Truly a getaway, in both time and place.
The ms Amsterdam will provide no such getaway. On a cruise ship in 2008, you can stay totally in touch with everybody and everything that you left on land. Telephones, internet, wireless and satellite systems, allow you to stay in touch with every damn thing. A morning 8-page news synopsis printout of the NY Times is placed on the door of every guest. CNN is on 24 hours a day, uses the slogan “your world today”, and comes out crystal clear on your cabin TV, no matter where you are.
And so I watch the McCain-Obama debate on CNN, at 9:00 AM, 12 hours removed from NYC. The presidential election story, with election day only 4 weeks away, has
actually been eclipsed by the bizarre developments in the global economy.
I guess whaling ships are few and far between these days, with “Save the Whales” and all that. But even if there is a whaling ship sailing around as I write this, I’ll bet every whaler has a TV in his cabin, with CNN. And so you make your 100 foot climb up the rope ladder, to the crow’s nest, with “global financial meltdown” fresh in your head.
Anyway, I’m 1/3 of the way through “Moby Dick”, getting nicely lost in the book for a few minutes each day as the drama slowly unfolds. And as I do my exercise walk around the deck later on, I look out on the sea imagining that big white whale suddenly jumping out, “as in his immeasurable bravadoes the White Whale tossed himself salmon-like to Heaven. So suddenly seen in the blue plain of the sea, and relieved against the still bluer margin of the sky, the spray that he raised, for the moment, intolerably glittered and glared like a glacier…”
In fact, “Moby Dick” was not too well-received at first, back in 1850, being criticized as digressing and meandering too much. 100 years later, all the “unnecessary” stuff was left out of the movie version, and it made for a cool movie. The Gregory Peck version of Captain Ahab is pretty well stuck in my head, no matter how the book describes the character.
The narrating character, a somewhat spaced-out young guy named Ishmael, enjoyed being the lookout up on top of the mast, in the crow’s nest, 100 feet in the air. Up there he truly “got away from it all” --
“There you stand, lost in the infinite series of the sea, with nothing ruffled but the waves. The tranced ship indolently rolls; the drowsy trade winds blow; everything resolves you into languor. For the most part, in this tropic whaling life, a sublime uneventfulness invests you; you hear no news; read no gazettes; extras with startling accounts of commonplaces never delude you into unnecessary excitements; bankrupt securities; fall of stocks….” , so says Ishmael in one of his dreamy passages.
Bankrupt securities? Fall of stocks? So strange, people were concerned about that stuff way back in 1850. But if you were a young guy like Ishmael, you could free yourself from the whole thing by going out on a 3-year whaling contract. Even if you had some stock investments, the 3 years at sea would force you to forget about it for that time.
Judging by the financial news of the past few days, I think there’s a few million people who could use a few weeks on an 1850 whaling ship, with a couple of two-hour shifts a day up in the crow’s nest, looking around for whales. Truly a getaway, in both time and place.
The ms Amsterdam will provide no such getaway. On a cruise ship in 2008, you can stay totally in touch with everybody and everything that you left on land. Telephones, internet, wireless and satellite systems, allow you to stay in touch with every damn thing. A morning 8-page news synopsis printout of the NY Times is placed on the door of every guest. CNN is on 24 hours a day, uses the slogan “your world today”, and comes out crystal clear on your cabin TV, no matter where you are.
And so I watch the McCain-Obama debate on CNN, at 9:00 AM, 12 hours removed from NYC. The presidential election story, with election day only 4 weeks away, has
actually been eclipsed by the bizarre developments in the global economy.
I guess whaling ships are few and far between these days, with “Save the Whales” and all that. But even if there is a whaling ship sailing around as I write this, I’ll bet every whaler has a TV in his cabin, with CNN. And so you make your 100 foot climb up the rope ladder, to the crow’s nest, with “global financial meltdown” fresh in your head.
Anyway, I’m 1/3 of the way through “Moby Dick”, getting nicely lost in the book for a few minutes each day as the drama slowly unfolds. And as I do my exercise walk around the deck later on, I look out on the sea imagining that big white whale suddenly jumping out, “as in his immeasurable bravadoes the White Whale tossed himself salmon-like to Heaven. So suddenly seen in the blue plain of the sea, and relieved against the still bluer margin of the sky, the spray that he raised, for the moment, intolerably glittered and glared like a glacier…”
Friday, October 3, 2008
No Hot Coffee
Today is the 6th and last day of the Japan part of this tour. The first three days were three consecutive small cities in north Japan. Then one sea day. Then…
…the big two-day stay in Kobe. An overnight stay, which is pretty rare. But there’s much to see in Kobe, and much more to see in the two neighboring big cities, Osaka and Kyoto.
Today I have IPM (in port manning -- basically, it’s my turn to stay on the ship while it’s in port - maritime regulation - everybody has to do it occasionally).
So yesterday was my chance to get out and see something. I went into downtown Kobe, and bought a 1050yen train ticket to Kyoto, which is famous for having a lot of those Buddhist temples with the curvy roofs. So cultured I am.
At one of these places I walked in on some kind of serious ceremony, about 80 young guys in robes bunched together on the floor, receiving some kind of sermon from some older Holy Guy. “Ah grasshoppers…” he said. Just kidding, it was Japanese, who knows what he was saying.
Across the street from this ancient Temple, back in the real world, was this diner of sorts, no tables, just sit at the counter, where the menu had tiny English subtitles, which I sorely needed. Japanese food is really weird-looking, and I’m pretty food-squeamish to start with. Basically I had some chicken tenders, with some inedible alfalfa sprouts (?) coated in some disgusting dressing. One nice touch was the big jug of ice water, which everyone one got, so you help yourself to more glasses of ice water as you went along. I seriously needed water after my first and only taste of the alfalfa (?) sprouts.
I then asked for coffee. They didn’t have any. What, no coffee in a diner? What’s wrong with you people? All they had was green tea and that jug of water.
I continued the stroll, gradually getting better with cars coming from the wrong direction - the Japanese do it like the British. Lo and behold -- a Seven-Eleven ! My favorite coffee place for the past 30 years.
I went in said “Hot Coffee?” -- the guy led me to the refrigerator, pointed to a few cans of various brands of cold coffee. I shook my head No Thanks, and walked around the 7-11 three times, refusing to believe it had no hot coffee. So solly, no hot coffee. This also happened at a Circle K a little while later.
I kept strolling, visited another Temple, did some aimless left and right turns, stopping here, stopping there, soaking in the town, and dropped in on another half-dozen convenience stores of various names. Solly, no hot coffee. Just weird-looking snack food, in Japanese-only packaging. I would’ve paid ten bucks for a Twinkie.
Getting late in the day, I made my way back to the Kyoto train station in he middle of downtown Kyoto, and lo and behold There Was A Starbucks.
Back home I don’t like Starbucks. But here in Kyoto I said to myself If This Friggin Starbucks doesn’t have hot coffee I’ll eat my sneakers (which probably would have tasted better than those alfalfa sprouts).
Starbucks to the rescue. Yes We Have Hot Coffee, There Really Are Japanese Who Like Hot Coffee, especially in the downtown area.
One additional perk in The Kyoto Starbucks, truly unusual to my experience. A Heated Toilet Seat. There was one bathroom for both male and female, and I sat down on a heated toilet seat. Never heard of such a thing, and couldn’t imagine the constructive purpose of it. Hot Coffee AND Hot Tushee at Starbucks.
I Googled up “heated toilet seat” when I got back to the ship, couldn’t conclude whether it was a Japan thing or a Starbucks thing. Maybe this idea is catching on back in the USA and I didn’t know about it. Anybody who can shed light on this ? Your comments on Heated Toilet Seats are welcome.
…the big two-day stay in Kobe. An overnight stay, which is pretty rare. But there’s much to see in Kobe, and much more to see in the two neighboring big cities, Osaka and Kyoto.
Today I have IPM (in port manning -- basically, it’s my turn to stay on the ship while it’s in port - maritime regulation - everybody has to do it occasionally).
So yesterday was my chance to get out and see something. I went into downtown Kobe, and bought a 1050yen train ticket to Kyoto, which is famous for having a lot of those Buddhist temples with the curvy roofs. So cultured I am.
At one of these places I walked in on some kind of serious ceremony, about 80 young guys in robes bunched together on the floor, receiving some kind of sermon from some older Holy Guy. “Ah grasshoppers…” he said. Just kidding, it was Japanese, who knows what he was saying.
Across the street from this ancient Temple, back in the real world, was this diner of sorts, no tables, just sit at the counter, where the menu had tiny English subtitles, which I sorely needed. Japanese food is really weird-looking, and I’m pretty food-squeamish to start with. Basically I had some chicken tenders, with some inedible alfalfa sprouts (?) coated in some disgusting dressing. One nice touch was the big jug of ice water, which everyone one got, so you help yourself to more glasses of ice water as you went along. I seriously needed water after my first and only taste of the alfalfa (?) sprouts.
I then asked for coffee. They didn’t have any. What, no coffee in a diner? What’s wrong with you people? All they had was green tea and that jug of water.
I continued the stroll, gradually getting better with cars coming from the wrong direction - the Japanese do it like the British. Lo and behold -- a Seven-Eleven ! My favorite coffee place for the past 30 years.
I went in said “Hot Coffee?” -- the guy led me to the refrigerator, pointed to a few cans of various brands of cold coffee. I shook my head No Thanks, and walked around the 7-11 three times, refusing to believe it had no hot coffee. So solly, no hot coffee. This also happened at a Circle K a little while later.
I kept strolling, visited another Temple, did some aimless left and right turns, stopping here, stopping there, soaking in the town, and dropped in on another half-dozen convenience stores of various names. Solly, no hot coffee. Just weird-looking snack food, in Japanese-only packaging. I would’ve paid ten bucks for a Twinkie.
Getting late in the day, I made my way back to the Kyoto train station in he middle of downtown Kyoto, and lo and behold There Was A Starbucks.
Back home I don’t like Starbucks. But here in Kyoto I said to myself If This Friggin Starbucks doesn’t have hot coffee I’ll eat my sneakers (which probably would have tasted better than those alfalfa sprouts).
Starbucks to the rescue. Yes We Have Hot Coffee, There Really Are Japanese Who Like Hot Coffee, especially in the downtown area.
One additional perk in The Kyoto Starbucks, truly unusual to my experience. A Heated Toilet Seat. There was one bathroom for both male and female, and I sat down on a heated toilet seat. Never heard of such a thing, and couldn’t imagine the constructive purpose of it. Hot Coffee AND Hot Tushee at Starbucks.
I Googled up “heated toilet seat” when I got back to the ship, couldn’t conclude whether it was a Japan thing or a Starbucks thing. Maybe this idea is catching on back in the USA and I didn’t know about it. Anybody who can shed light on this ? Your comments on Heated Toilet Seats are welcome.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Top Ten Reasons This Ship Is Better Than the Maasdam
Top ten reasons this gig is better than the previous gig
10 - Amsterdam is a bigger ship, in length and width. I thought I was comfortable with the small-sized Maasdam, but to my surprise I’m enjoying the extra distance from here to there.
9 - The crew mess is not off-limits, thus far anyway. I don’t have to dress up and go upstairs to the public area where the buffet is. Instead I can walk a few feet across the hall in sweatpants and T-shirt, grab whatever simple stuff they have there and be done with it. Some of the Indonesians look at me kinda funny, like I’m out of place, and why would I want crew food. Well I want crew food because it’s easy to get to in the morning.
8 - Laundry room is bigger. Perhaps this only makes sense because the crew is bigger, but there are 3 ironing boards instead of one, and the pressure and competition seems less.
7 - My cabin is bigger, by about two feet in each direction. Thus far has had the unlikely result of making me neater, as if the big wide uncluttered space might make me think better.
6 - My cabin is nowhere near the crew bar. On the Maasdam and the Ryndam, my cabin was only a few feet away from the crew bar, and the noise leaked through into the hallway. Sometimes the drunken kids wound up in the hallway too.
5 - I don’t have to carry a fan from my cabin to the piano bar every night. I got so used to doing it on the Maasdam, I forgot how ridiculous it was
4 - Lounge logistics. Once again, I’m surprised that I’m liking rather than disliking this. There are no chairs around the piano -- and I’m reaching out to people sitting 10 to 40 feet away. After a few bad starts, there is now a monitor system in place, where I can hear my own singing without being too loud for the room.
3 - No tinny raspberry piano. Instead, a beautiful Yamaha with a lovely rich tone.
2 - a musical director who makes it his business to help me. He was a tremendous help in getting the PA system in the lounge to sound right, i.e., twisting the soundman‘s arm. He provided a CD containing photoscans of sheet music I needed, he lets me know each night when I can expect the audience to start filing out of the main showroom. That’s just to name a few things.
1 - the itinerary, the itinerary, the itinerary
10 - Amsterdam is a bigger ship, in length and width. I thought I was comfortable with the small-sized Maasdam, but to my surprise I’m enjoying the extra distance from here to there.
9 - The crew mess is not off-limits, thus far anyway. I don’t have to dress up and go upstairs to the public area where the buffet is. Instead I can walk a few feet across the hall in sweatpants and T-shirt, grab whatever simple stuff they have there and be done with it. Some of the Indonesians look at me kinda funny, like I’m out of place, and why would I want crew food. Well I want crew food because it’s easy to get to in the morning.
8 - Laundry room is bigger. Perhaps this only makes sense because the crew is bigger, but there are 3 ironing boards instead of one, and the pressure and competition seems less.
7 - My cabin is bigger, by about two feet in each direction. Thus far has had the unlikely result of making me neater, as if the big wide uncluttered space might make me think better.
6 - My cabin is nowhere near the crew bar. On the Maasdam and the Ryndam, my cabin was only a few feet away from the crew bar, and the noise leaked through into the hallway. Sometimes the drunken kids wound up in the hallway too.
5 - I don’t have to carry a fan from my cabin to the piano bar every night. I got so used to doing it on the Maasdam, I forgot how ridiculous it was
4 - Lounge logistics. Once again, I’m surprised that I’m liking rather than disliking this. There are no chairs around the piano -- and I’m reaching out to people sitting 10 to 40 feet away. After a few bad starts, there is now a monitor system in place, where I can hear my own singing without being too loud for the room.
3 - No tinny raspberry piano. Instead, a beautiful Yamaha with a lovely rich tone.
2 - a musical director who makes it his business to help me. He was a tremendous help in getting the PA system in the lounge to sound right, i.e., twisting the soundman‘s arm. He provided a CD containing photoscans of sheet music I needed, he lets me know each night when I can expect the audience to start filing out of the main showroom. That’s just to name a few things.
1 - the itinerary, the itinerary, the itinerary
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Wednesday September 24
I’m pretty good at grasping concepts of the earth’s rotation, revolution, axis, and consequences like seasons and star movements, etc etc. But this International Date Line thing is a little too weird.
I am presently looking at a list of places and dates comprising the itinerary of this ship for the next two months. Since yesterday was Tuesday Sept 23, today ought to be Wednesday Sept 24 right?
But noooooooo…….today is Thursday Sept 25. It says right there on the itinerary NO WEDNESDAY SEPT 24. Wednesday never happened. We just jumped right over to Thursday. What would Rod Serling say about this? “Submitted for your approval…2400 people on a cruise ship wake up one morning and find that yesterday was really the day before yesterday….”
I assume that people in the New York area are experiencing Wednesday Sept 24. I hope somebody will write and tell me what it was like.
I came onto this ship with the promise of playing along with pre-recorded tracks, but for the time being the tracks are not needed. My lounge has a dance floor, but adjacent to this lounge is another lounge, ALSO with a dance floor, with a terrific 4-piece group playing ballroom and swing dance music.
I can’t compete head-to-head with this dance group, and the existence of the two dance floors right next to each other on Deck 5, is silly. Somebody tried to explain to me how it came to be this way, with some story about the history of the ship. The bottom line is that the extra dance floor in my lounge is a leftover from a previous concept that’s been abandoned. It’s only a matter of time before the ship goes into drydock and the dance floor get ripped out.
In meantime, my audience is distant, with no chairs around the piano, and a small dance floor (about the size of the one at the Jolly Swagman) helping to provide even more separation between the audience and me.
When I use the tracks I can get people to dance….but I’ve decided to go with my stronger suit -- singalong, spontaneity. It’s a very nice piano (NO RASPBERRY), so I’ll be as pianistic as possible. Thus far nobody is twisting my arm to use the tracks. But I suppose I should be prepared in case they suddenly do.
The first port in Asia was supposed to have been Russia, a town called Petropavlovsk. But a few days ago I heard that this visit was cancelled. Apparently the authorities of this town have been rather rude to the cruise ship industry, screwing up ships’ schedules by delaying their docking time, without good reason. Russia is inconvenient to visit by cruise ship, but this particular town was pretty along the way to Japan and the other places. I hear it was a crappy city with little to offer except the fact that's "in Russia"
So another Japanese port has been added, and the ship will go directly to Japan -- Hakodate, Miyako, Osaka, and (the new one) Aomori.
Looking way ahead on this itinerary, I now see that the ship will go back across the International Date Line in the other direction, on November 11.
The result will be - you guessed it - we get back the day we lost. Tuesday November 11 will happen twice. If you people write and tell me what Wednesday Sept 24 was like, I promise to write and tell you what the second November 11 was like.
I am presently looking at a list of places and dates comprising the itinerary of this ship for the next two months. Since yesterday was Tuesday Sept 23, today ought to be Wednesday Sept 24 right?
But noooooooo…….today is Thursday Sept 25. It says right there on the itinerary NO WEDNESDAY SEPT 24. Wednesday never happened. We just jumped right over to Thursday. What would Rod Serling say about this? “Submitted for your approval…2400 people on a cruise ship wake up one morning and find that yesterday was really the day before yesterday….”
I assume that people in the New York area are experiencing Wednesday Sept 24. I hope somebody will write and tell me what it was like.
I came onto this ship with the promise of playing along with pre-recorded tracks, but for the time being the tracks are not needed. My lounge has a dance floor, but adjacent to this lounge is another lounge, ALSO with a dance floor, with a terrific 4-piece group playing ballroom and swing dance music.
I can’t compete head-to-head with this dance group, and the existence of the two dance floors right next to each other on Deck 5, is silly. Somebody tried to explain to me how it came to be this way, with some story about the history of the ship. The bottom line is that the extra dance floor in my lounge is a leftover from a previous concept that’s been abandoned. It’s only a matter of time before the ship goes into drydock and the dance floor get ripped out.
In meantime, my audience is distant, with no chairs around the piano, and a small dance floor (about the size of the one at the Jolly Swagman) helping to provide even more separation between the audience and me.
When I use the tracks I can get people to dance….but I’ve decided to go with my stronger suit -- singalong, spontaneity. It’s a very nice piano (NO RASPBERRY), so I’ll be as pianistic as possible. Thus far nobody is twisting my arm to use the tracks. But I suppose I should be prepared in case they suddenly do.
The first port in Asia was supposed to have been Russia, a town called Petropavlovsk. But a few days ago I heard that this visit was cancelled. Apparently the authorities of this town have been rather rude to the cruise ship industry, screwing up ships’ schedules by delaying their docking time, without good reason. Russia is inconvenient to visit by cruise ship, but this particular town was pretty along the way to Japan and the other places. I hear it was a crappy city with little to offer except the fact that's "in Russia"
So another Japanese port has been added, and the ship will go directly to Japan -- Hakodate, Miyako, Osaka, and (the new one) Aomori.
Looking way ahead on this itinerary, I now see that the ship will go back across the International Date Line in the other direction, on November 11.
The result will be - you guessed it - we get back the day we lost. Tuesday November 11 will happen twice. If you people write and tell me what Wednesday Sept 24 was like, I promise to write and tell you what the second November 11 was like.
Friday, August 22, 2008
cabin letter to new pianoman
To the new piano person -
I add these pages to those written by pianoman JP Nadeau 3 months ago, perhaps the start of an interesting archive?
1) JP's comments on "no airconditioning in the Piano Bar" are true, unfortunately. For 98 days I was seen carrying the fan (which you now inherit) through the B Deck corridor and into the piano bar. (People will make dumb jokes abut your "Number One Fan"). The ship goes into drydock in January for a week or two, perhaps they'll fix the problem then.
2) If you attempt to grub food in the Indonesian/Filipino mess across the corridor, you may get resistance from the mess manager. Perhaps being "served" as an entertainer upstairs at the Lido Buffet disqualifies us from being "one of the boys" downstairs on B Deck. Or maybe it's just a tribal thing.
Last week the mess manager finally warmed up to me when we struck up a conversation about Islam. He's one of the many Indonesian muslims here, and attends services when the crew mess becomes a mosque on Friday Afternoons.
3) JP's comments on toilet paper are simply untrue, I can't understand how this was such a problem to him. The only thing I can figure is that he failed to tip his room attendant. The current room attendant for B058 is "Sandi", a perfectly nice guy. However, he doesn't seem to notice when the soap is reaching the size of a communion wafer. Write a big fat note to him when the soap starts getting too small.
4) Cabin B058 is right next to the Officers Bar, and also right next to the cabin of the lead singer for the HALcats -- Expect strange sounds from both places.
5) You STILL have no TV, for most practical purposes. Sandi brought the above TV out of retirement from a closet down on C Deck. In fact this TV should be thrown overboard. The only reason I retained this piece of junk was to cut down on my TV watching by making it less pleasurable. Any nighttime scene in a movie will be disrupted - no picture at all -- until suddenly it's a daytime scene again, or a well-lit scene, and suddenly you have a picture again.
On Channel 36, for 14 weeks, you can expect a constant replaying of the following movies - Gladiator, Wizard of Oz, Gone With the Wind, Gigi, Breakfast at Tiffanys, Rocky, Godfather, Top Gun, West Side Story, Tootsie, Field of Dreams, Grease, On Golden Pond.
6) Bartender Rey is a nice guy, and a real character. I utilized him many times - he has some funny schtick (e.g. YMCA and Margaritaville) which he enjoys doing, and people really enjoy. Good singer too -- not solo, but rather a nice harmonies voice - he was Garfunkel to my Paul Simon during "The Boxer"
7) Good luck with the Name That Tune contests, which you'll do once per cruise. The prizes are cheap trinkets, but these people compete seriously. Invariably you'll get old people complaining that the contest was too difficult. They stopped listening to the radio in 1956 and everything after that is arcane.
8) Use the back crew elevator by the marshalling area (red floor) -- go up to the 7th floor, walk up one flight to the back (crew) door of the piano bar. Although this back door is "crew only" it has a green "exit" light visible to people in the piano bar, in case of emergency. Guests frequently see this and attempt to use this door to get to the back of the ship. 98% of the time they see their error and back off. But occasionally a stubborn or drunk guest will forge ahead, go through this door, and disappear into another dimension.
9) The piano was tuned on July 18 in Norway, but you'd never know it. You'll quickly discover a rotten Aflat toward the top. Maybe you'll get lucky and someone will tune it again soon. Also, hope you like June Allyson and raspberry-colored pianos.
Enjoy the gig
Steve Lynch
I add these pages to those written by pianoman JP Nadeau 3 months ago, perhaps the start of an interesting archive?
1) JP's comments on "no airconditioning in the Piano Bar" are true, unfortunately. For 98 days I was seen carrying the fan (which you now inherit) through the B Deck corridor and into the piano bar. (People will make dumb jokes abut your "Number One Fan"). The ship goes into drydock in January for a week or two, perhaps they'll fix the problem then.
2) If you attempt to grub food in the Indonesian/Filipino mess across the corridor, you may get resistance from the mess manager. Perhaps being "served" as an entertainer upstairs at the Lido Buffet disqualifies us from being "one of the boys" downstairs on B Deck. Or maybe it's just a tribal thing.
Last week the mess manager finally warmed up to me when we struck up a conversation about Islam. He's one of the many Indonesian muslims here, and attends services when the crew mess becomes a mosque on Friday Afternoons.
3) JP's comments on toilet paper are simply untrue, I can't understand how this was such a problem to him. The only thing I can figure is that he failed to tip his room attendant. The current room attendant for B058 is "Sandi", a perfectly nice guy. However, he doesn't seem to notice when the soap is reaching the size of a communion wafer. Write a big fat note to him when the soap starts getting too small.
4) Cabin B058 is right next to the Officers Bar, and also right next to the cabin of the lead singer for the HALcats -- Expect strange sounds from both places.
5) You STILL have no TV, for most practical purposes. Sandi brought the above TV out of retirement from a closet down on C Deck. In fact this TV should be thrown overboard. The only reason I retained this piece of junk was to cut down on my TV watching by making it less pleasurable. Any nighttime scene in a movie will be disrupted - no picture at all -- until suddenly it's a daytime scene again, or a well-lit scene, and suddenly you have a picture again.
On Channel 36, for 14 weeks, you can expect a constant replaying of the following movies - Gladiator, Wizard of Oz, Gone With the Wind, Gigi, Breakfast at Tiffanys, Rocky, Godfather, Top Gun, West Side Story, Tootsie, Field of Dreams, Grease, On Golden Pond.
6) Bartender Rey is a nice guy, and a real character. I utilized him many times - he has some funny schtick (e.g. YMCA and Margaritaville) which he enjoys doing, and people really enjoy. Good singer too -- not solo, but rather a nice harmonies voice - he was Garfunkel to my Paul Simon during "The Boxer"
7) Good luck with the Name That Tune contests, which you'll do once per cruise. The prizes are cheap trinkets, but these people compete seriously. Invariably you'll get old people complaining that the contest was too difficult. They stopped listening to the radio in 1956 and everything after that is arcane.
8) Use the back crew elevator by the marshalling area (red floor) -- go up to the 7th floor, walk up one flight to the back (crew) door of the piano bar. Although this back door is "crew only" it has a green "exit" light visible to people in the piano bar, in case of emergency. Guests frequently see this and attempt to use this door to get to the back of the ship. 98% of the time they see their error and back off. But occasionally a stubborn or drunk guest will forge ahead, go through this door, and disappear into another dimension.
9) The piano was tuned on July 18 in Norway, but you'd never know it. You'll quickly discover a rotten Aflat toward the top. Maybe you'll get lucky and someone will tune it again soon. Also, hope you like June Allyson and raspberry-colored pianos.
Enjoy the gig
Steve Lynch
Monday, August 11, 2008
Prince Christian Sound
If I said before that Dublin was the high point of this 35-day cruise, I now have to retract that. The ride through Prince Christian Sound on Saturday 8/2 was dazzling to just about everyone on the ship. That night in the piano bar, people just shook their heads in reflection of what they’d seen. We must have set some kind of record for most photographs collectively taken on a cruise ship in a six-hour period.
At the southern tip of Greenland is a group of islands, separated by narrow waterways, the longest of which is Prince Christian Sound. Completely inhospitable to life. As our very reserved tour lecturer would put it, the scenery was “extremely dramatic” -- mountains rising 1000 feet straight out of the water, with glaciers breaking through at certain points….. newborn icebergs recently broken off the glaciers…..long waterfalls back down to the sea……..
…….and it just went on and on, for many hours. Around every bend there was more magnificent scenery, and the cameras just kept clicking. The photos below are just a small sample.
At the southern tip of Greenland is a group of islands, separated by narrow waterways, the longest of which is Prince Christian Sound. Completely inhospitable to life. As our very reserved tour lecturer would put it, the scenery was “extremely dramatic” -- mountains rising 1000 feet straight out of the water, with glaciers breaking through at certain points….. newborn icebergs recently broken off the glaciers…..long waterfalls back down to the sea……..
…….and it just went on and on, for many hours. Around every bend there was more magnificent scenery, and the cameras just kept clicking. The photos below are just a small sample.
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