I forgot how much I like Columbo, Sri Lanka. As I predicted 4 years ago, the country has done very, very well now that the war is over. I counted no less than 21 cranes and 15 new skyscrapers; Chinese money has flooded in and they’ve finished the new container port. They’re building another new one further up the coast, too, and as I said then: They are the next Singapore.
Tuk Tuks, cars, motorcycles, pedestrians, bicycles, and the odd rickshaw still share the roads… and while the underlying grit still remains, the investment dollars are pouring in. Several of the crew and I went to dinner at a place owned by the third mate’s friend in a courtyard lined with new, fancy restaurants catering to people like us- Westerners with dollars to spend. It was good. It was safe to eat. It was… not very Sri Lankan.
The chief cook wore a hijab to dinner; she is not Muslim, but she refused to eat anything with pork in it because she was wearing the head covering. The 2nd Engineer and Wiper drank too much. The Third Mate ordered too much food. For a brief minute, though, all the freaks that go to sea and lose their minds to monotony and stress seemed like normal people doing normal things out in the world, and we weren’t the institutionalized suffering from Stockholm Syndrome induced by the chain of command and the absurd- we were just people having dinner.
Two hours later, of course, we were hoisting the gangway and steaming back out to sea.
The Bay of Bengal crossing was uneventful, and when we landed in Singapore five days later we had two days in anchorage- so I went ashore two days in a row. I bought a cheap electric kettle and a coffee mug so I can make coffee in my own quarters. I ate frog with the third mate at a place in the heart of Chinatown filled with frog art, where the staff wore all green and had frog eye hats on.
All in all, it was a Singaporean minute away from the grease, the stack ash, the smell of heated bunker fuel and paint, and the same psychologically deteriorating personalities that - regardless of likability - wear like stones in the shoe.
At 0600 I was called out to take the ship from anchorage to the dock. We were all fast by 0900, and I immediately started doing crane lifts. I lost count… but I think we did 30 lifts and worked until it was time to let go at 2130. I didn’t finish until 0030- 18.5 hours later.
The C/M, the C/E, the Electrician who walked through my paint, the Chief Steward, the Chief Cook, and the 2nd Mate all walked down the gangway before we departed and their replacements came up. To my surprise, the Steward and Cook are familiar faces from my second ship- I spent 5 months with them!
In spite of the change of crew, however, we rolled out like we always do, the worn out cogs replaced with fresh cogs, the clockwork machinery moving this big old girl and all her little boxes. We burned tons of bunker oil and moved from one port to the next.
Coming into Hong Kong tonight I realized it must be the prettiest city I’ve seen- from the water, or otherwise… it truly is breathtaking and I haven’t seen its like anywhere else in the world. It is as if Seattle and San Francisco’s geology were merged, and then the Chinese moved all the tallest and brightest neon skyscrapers from Shanghai, Ningbo, Chiwan, and Qingdao to its hilly shores, then threw in two soaring suspension bridges to lord over it all.
Word is that we may spend the next 5 days in the inner anchorage, with a launch, while a shore gang of welders (our friends from Singapore) replaces some machinery on the bow and stern. If that is the case then expect photos from in the city of Hong Kong, itself.
This is shipping, however, and I have learned not to get my hopes up. The word is “if.” When the captain can’t confirm it then it’s nothing more than a rumor. Don’t count on it. Never get your hopes up. Skepticism is the most prudent action. Expect the worst. Prepare for disappointment.
I am all of these, and yet my fingers are crossed.
Tuk Tuks, cars, motorcycles, pedestrians, bicycles, and the odd rickshaw still share the roads… and while the underlying grit still remains, the investment dollars are pouring in. Several of the crew and I went to dinner at a place owned by the third mate’s friend in a courtyard lined with new, fancy restaurants catering to people like us- Westerners with dollars to spend. It was good. It was safe to eat. It was… not very Sri Lankan.
The chief cook wore a hijab to dinner; she is not Muslim, but she refused to eat anything with pork in it because she was wearing the head covering. The 2nd Engineer and Wiper drank too much. The Third Mate ordered too much food. For a brief minute, though, all the freaks that go to sea and lose their minds to monotony and stress seemed like normal people doing normal things out in the world, and we weren’t the institutionalized suffering from Stockholm Syndrome induced by the chain of command and the absurd- we were just people having dinner.
Two hours later, of course, we were hoisting the gangway and steaming back out to sea.
The Bay of Bengal crossing was uneventful, and when we landed in Singapore five days later we had two days in anchorage- so I went ashore two days in a row. I bought a cheap electric kettle and a coffee mug so I can make coffee in my own quarters. I ate frog with the third mate at a place in the heart of Chinatown filled with frog art, where the staff wore all green and had frog eye hats on.
All in all, it was a Singaporean minute away from the grease, the stack ash, the smell of heated bunker fuel and paint, and the same psychologically deteriorating personalities that - regardless of likability - wear like stones in the shoe.
At 0600 I was called out to take the ship from anchorage to the dock. We were all fast by 0900, and I immediately started doing crane lifts. I lost count… but I think we did 30 lifts and worked until it was time to let go at 2130. I didn’t finish until 0030- 18.5 hours later.
The C/M, the C/E, the Electrician who walked through my paint, the Chief Steward, the Chief Cook, and the 2nd Mate all walked down the gangway before we departed and their replacements came up. To my surprise, the Steward and Cook are familiar faces from my second ship- I spent 5 months with them!
In spite of the change of crew, however, we rolled out like we always do, the worn out cogs replaced with fresh cogs, the clockwork machinery moving this big old girl and all her little boxes. We burned tons of bunker oil and moved from one port to the next.
Coming into Hong Kong tonight I realized it must be the prettiest city I’ve seen- from the water, or otherwise… it truly is breathtaking and I haven’t seen its like anywhere else in the world. It is as if Seattle and San Francisco’s geology were merged, and then the Chinese moved all the tallest and brightest neon skyscrapers from Shanghai, Ningbo, Chiwan, and Qingdao to its hilly shores, then threw in two soaring suspension bridges to lord over it all.
Word is that we may spend the next 5 days in the inner anchorage, with a launch, while a shore gang of welders (our friends from Singapore) replaces some machinery on the bow and stern. If that is the case then expect photos from in the city of Hong Kong, itself.
This is shipping, however, and I have learned not to get my hopes up. The word is “if.” When the captain can’t confirm it then it’s nothing more than a rumor. Don’t count on it. Never get your hopes up. Skepticism is the most prudent action. Expect the worst. Prepare for disappointment.
I am all of these, and yet my fingers are crossed.
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