The Ditch and The Yellow Egyptian Cat

I saw one more green flash before we went into the Suez Canal- the sun was
kind enough to drop below the horizon right dead-in-the-center of a hole in
the clouds which framed the brief green flash phenomenon in concentric rings
of fiery-lit red and orange clouds. That next morning the waxing crescent
moon rose directly on our bow above Egypt, followed by Venus a half hour
later rising in the exact same spot, followed by the sun another half hour
later, also in the exact same spot.

The trip through the Suez was quieter this time than the last two (perhaps
the new-to-me officers?) and I found myself not as physically drained at the
end of the transit. I also purchased an Egyptian SIM for my phone and
finally used the unlock code provided by my US service provider (the phone
is locked by default)... but which, in typical Egyptian fashion, didn't work
for the internet until I called the SIM company and had them modify it.
When the internet part of my phone finally worked, the phone part of my
phone stopped doing so. Long and short? I could click "like" on facebook
and upload photos to the blog but I couldn't make a single telephone call.
I have friends that assure me Egypt is a wonderful place, but the parts we
go through? Fascinating, yes. Wonderful... not so much.

The last time I was in Damietta I saw this yellow cat who lives on the docks
wandering around, deftly dodging the constant flow of semi-rigs, vehicular
traffic, and cranes of all shapes and sizes with an overall air of
nonchalance. He subsists almost entirely off hunted or scrounged rat, bird,
or the leftover pieces and parts of bait fish caught along the dock by
Egyptian fishermen- and he looks much better fed than most of the Egyptian
longshoremen (or "lashers," as we call them). I saw him again this last
time, too... it was fairly cold and he was following fishermen with nets at
a discreet distance until the sun came up, at which point he climbed atop a
container and slept for the next 8 hours in a sunbeam. I pointed him out to
several other crew and we all watched him wistfully unencumbered by anything
remotely resembling schedule, responsibility, security, or comfort. Last I
saw him he slowly meandered north along the dock until he disappeared in the
distance.

The Red Sea was, in its entirety, flat, black and beset by a haze that
limited the ship's horizon to our little claustrophobic 6 mile circle of
visibility. I had pumped up the cadet by singing the praises of the sky
above the Red Sea and giving him a copy of the only star chart he'd ever
need as a mate, of course... another bright mind, ruined by high
expectations.

We have entered the troubled waters beyond the Bab el Mandeb, but troubled
though they be, the skies are still breath-taking. Where the skies above
the Red Sea were disappointing, those above the Gulf of Aden have so far
more than made up for it. I just now have returned from my stern watch,
where the incredibly rat-like Taurus and Gemini, the constellation that is
only recognizable by its proximity to Orion (admit it- Gemini is an
uninspiring box-like thing), blazed amidst the off-gas of galactic brine and
backscattered cosmos.

In previous posts I have laid out the story of how the engine department is
full of drunken meatheads who have tempted the Fates at every turn, and I
proposed how two such cathartic moments might play out. So far the reality
has been much more mundane: After much alcohol, the volume from the pool
got the attention of the Old Man, who went out on a higher deck and shone
his light down into the pool from above to verify who the troublemakers
were. The Reefer, seeing only the bright flashlight, immediately began to
call-out the Captain (who was invisible behind the light) as a "pussy" who
should "come down here with that [descriptive laden] flashlight" so he could
get his "ass kicked."

The Captain went down there the next day with a "Letter of Warning," much to
the Deck's amusement and delight, of course. That was a few days ago. The
Reefer is looking paler and thinner these days and he's shaved his head into
a fairly pathetic mohawk and I, personally, don't think he'll be able to
last long enough to get fired... if he makes it to Singapore, he'll hang
himself on the proverbial rope of overindulgence. He'll get publicly caned
for violating Singaporean Law or miss the ship's departure. Something... I
just can't see him making it all the way back to New York and I'm having so
much fun speculating his demise (while being unable to find the secret shame
properly executed schadenfreude requires) that I just can't be bothered to
stop myself.

Time for my sunset watch. I have more sunset/sunrise photos... I'll share
from Jebel Ali.