Observations

The elevator is still out (it hasn’t worked since before I got on).  There are 8.5 floors above the main deck, and another 5 below.  I probably climb the equivalent of a 100 story building every single day.  

The air conditioning hasn’t been able to cool the inside temperature of the house much below that of the air outside of it, thanks to the conjoining of the Reefer’s inexperience and the system’s complexity.  I mistakenly thought the Reefer was in charge of air conditioning when I first went to sea, but he’s actually aboard to handle the power, maintenance, and monitoring of the refrigerated containers.  We joke that the Reefer is only aboard to plug them in when they’re loaded and unplug them when they’re offloaded.

Once I am exhausted by the schedule out here I actually slow down, mellow out, and pace myself… too bad that takes so long in the first place.

The chimney effect created by the height of the ship and the many different ways air can flow from deep in the heart of the ship below to the bridge, many decks above, causes some doors to be vacuumed shut and others to swing wild when opened.  I’ve been chipping, grinding, and painting the tunnels from the sideport aft to the engine room water tight doors, and each time the engine water tight door is opened, the blast of furnace-like air cooks us.  Thank god it’s a dry heat.

There is absolutely no concievable way to use a grease gun without also bathing in grease.  It cannot be done.

I have finally sunk so low as to wear cut-off carhart overalls.  After work, when I kick off my work boots, the toe-socks with flip-flops doesn’t help.

It has rained every day since leaving China.  The heat and humidity are constant.  The gray is constant.  The salt on the decks is a quarter inch thick and has a greasy feel to it.  Everything is damp and salted.

The color of the ocean changes every time I look at it and there is no language, on the sea or off it, that can adequately describe it.  Its luminous nature, surface texture, aeration, biological content, interaction of current, wind, and wave, the inclination of the sun, all affect it with equal degrees of variation, and I can contentedly stare at it for hours.  

Pakistani fishermen are all around us and I find myself envious of their 50 foot fishing boats.  Their sterns look like Chinese san pans, but their bows are unique to these waters (in my experience), where the stem stands about 10 feet perfectly vertical and whose apex is a perfect semi-circle.  There is a horizontal plank bowsprit that is a mirror image of the stem in size and shape.  The bow is remarkably blunt.  I have seen only a few spritsails in the distance- these boats are mostly powered by unenclosed gas engines with straight exhausts, long shafts and props bolted directly to the flywheels, and to get thrust they lift the front of the engine which in turn pivots the prop down into the water.  Each boat has between 8 and 10 men, and they fish with lines directly in their hands- no poles or other gear.  The men who came down our starboard side landed a 4 foot tarpon (according to my Filipino brothers) and tried to sell it to us there on the spot.

Some days you are the hammer.  Some days you are the nail.