A 65-Day Cruise

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

The only person screwing it up was me, so I moved to the left and stayed there. It was uncomfortable, kinda like folding your arms the opposite way of the usual.

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.

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

Leo and Henry, Filipino bar staff colleagues in the Rembrandt Lounge

My new promo photo