Canada to Patagonia at a Worrying Age

Honestly, it’s non-stop on this bloody ship. No sooner have I had breakfast then it’s time for a quick snooze and before you know it, it’s lunchtime.

Today I was given two peppered, battered fish of a kind I’ve certainly never encountered previously. They were tropical or endangered or both – I gave one back on account of the mountain of rice and beans that accompanied the meal – along with the mushroom pasta and green salad, obviously. Yoghurt for pudding. So hardly anything to eat there, then. The other daily occurrence of losing an hour took place at 1300 again. I’m paying back for that succession of 25-hour days as I went across Canada on the train.
I did ask the captain why we change the clocks in the middle of the day, rather that at night, imagining there to be some ancient ritual or custom to the seagoing fraternity. He said it was because he was the captain and he could. Fair enough.

Essentially, I’m now spending my days eating, sleeping, reading, writing and listening to music. I was made for a life of such pursuits. This is now clear. The big question now is how can I get to a stage where that is, in fact, my life. Don’t worry, LBTH, I don’t think I’ll be achieving it anytime soon. Actually LBTH may not be worrying. My replacement may be doing much better than I ever did. If that’s the case, someone better let me know.
The weather, by the way, is really hotting up. The fog and limited visibility have been replaced by blue cloud-speckled skies, heading towards proper clear blue as it’s improving by the hour.

Today’s tune – The Ship Song by Nick Cave and his crazy mates. That should upset the many amongst you hate inappropriate use of songs brought on by the title only.

Back to the Seattle Rant (9th November)
As usual, Kurt Vonnegut proposes a far simpler solution to my goings on when I landed in America. He suggests two new amendments to the American Constitution.

· Every newborn shall be sincerely welcomed and cared for until maturity.
· Every adult who needs it shall be given meaningful work to do, at a living wage.

Mr Vonnegut is a true hero of mine – there aren’t many. I’ve been reading Timequake on the boat and recommend any reader of this electronic page to go out and buy or borrow this book. You could read all of his stuff and profit massively. I’ve been saving this book for this journey, as I don’t think there’s anything left of his I haven’t read. It will be left on the CP Prospect for future passengers to enjoy with a link to this blog. However, I’m afraid that unlike the printed word, cyberspatial encodings such as this will simply not survive the first big timequake…

Didn’t really sleep that well as didn’t want to miss the Golden Great Bridge departure. As predicted it was still dark by the time we left the bay. However, this meant that the views of the Bay Bridge and, particularly, Alcatraz all lit up were fantastic. Impossible to take a decent pic of the latter, by the way, so that one’s just for me. A version of the GGB will hopefully appear here – but you’ll all think it’s Anglesey Bridge anyway…
The 5am song was Leaving Today by The Divine Comedy. (Absent Friends is pretty much becoming the album of the trip by the way.)

Breakfast was big and then I went back to bed. As soon as I woke up it was time for lunch. More curry. I may have made a slight mistake being all cool about regular curry…

A little surprise at lunch was the announcement by the captain that all the clocks were to go forward at 1300. This had the side effect of bringing tea forward an hour. This was mitigated a bit by delaying it half an hour to 1830 (really only 1730). Apparently we move another hour on tomorrow. If it carries on like this I’ll just be eating all the time (or worrying about eating).
The good news was the booze situation appears sorted at a very reasonable price. We pay bonded prices, apparently, meaning a crate of Wild Cat (they didn’t get any Peroni) is about $10. A bottle of Gordon’s is cheap as well – so that’s the sundowners sorted (we can only buy every few days, so you have to be organised).

I’ve managed to transfer my phone photos and have now burned a CD for the fairly good quality music centre in my lounge. Currently playing Adios Ayer by Jose Padilla. I’ve been trying to get everyone to realise exactly how gorgeous this track is – download it now and imagine you’re heading south in the Pacific Ocean on a big red crate. That’s what I’m doing.
Weather’s been crap all day, so the hopefully sited deckchair has remained in my cabin. God knows where I’d put it exactly. I suppose where the diesel fumes are least strong…

I understand entirely if people are bored with reading this already – feel free to skip to an interactive bit about flooding Welsh towns, if you wish. However, this is pretty much my diary for this trip, so there’s bound to be some dull bits.

Anyway, tea was veg soup, aubergine curry (proper) and some weird sweet dough balls for pudding. Seating plans will need some work, however, as I currently sit in regal, but solitary, splendour on a round table surveying all beyond me. The captain and some head honcho have the table next to me, while the slightly less important officers sit at an oblong table for 6. While the captain seemed happy to chat, the Danish/American lot on the other table seemed to regard me with some disdain. And they were having beer and I wasn’t. I’ll see what tomorrow brings before trying to address matters – including getting the booze issue sorted with the steward. Mind you a period without booze is exactly what the doctor ordered after 4 nights with my cousin and her mates.

Anyway, I was naturally concerned I was going to be bored tonight, what with us not being on the move, but I’ve surveyed the entertainment centre in the lounge. Aside from 1000 piece puzzles there are a number of videos and a DVD player, but no DVDs. There’s also a pretty good library, although a number of the titles are in German and French. Also there’s an October 2004 issue of the Man Utd magazine! Most intriguing is a set of Teach Yourself Irish cassettes and an English/Irish dictionary. Some later posts may be in Irish, therefore. Oh, and there’s obviously an Argos catalogue.
Anyway, I’ve not been bored, because I’ve been watching those blokes load the containers onto the ship. What a brilliant job! It’s like playing massive 3D Tetris. We’ve currently got 3 servicing the ship. I suppose by the time 5am comes they will have loaded us, meaning the view from the 4th poop deck lounge could be highly restricted. (My cabin is on the 5th poop deck, detail fans.)

Just realised how good the steward is, by the way. It’s heading for bedtime and I thought I might make use of that half bottle of Stoli I brought onto the ship for a nightcap. I had to declare it to the captain and Antonio was there at the time. Just realised he’s put some tomato juice in the fridge and Tabasco on the side! The trip might not be as sober as I thought.

Nicotine watchers – I have some bad news. I did succumb to the weed at the end of that massive session in San Fran. But it seems to have been a genuine blip – no relapse today and no cravings (ie I didn’t buy any). Think it was probably a ritual thing. Best thing one can do in the circumstances is hitch onto a freighter with no shop for the best part of a fortnight.
Right off to bed. Need to try to be up at 5 for cast off…
Container Drivers by The Fall

Going to write this as contemporaneously as possible and then blog different dates at the end. Hopefully it’ll read as a daily diary – so if you’re interested (and why wouldn’t you be?) this should be read backwards from November 7th…

One piece of advice to anybody getting a ship from Oakland. Don’t go to West Oakland on the BART and call a cab. They won’t come, even when you’ve waited the 30 mins they suggest. And then you’ll be the mark for the local hoods – as I was. Got away when I realised what was going on (just in time) and went to 12th Street, one further stop on the BART, where cabs are plentiful. It means a slightly longer ride, virtually back to where you came from, but just don’t go to West Oakland.

As such the notebook looks like it might make under the Golden Gate Bridge.
Once the cab driver finally got me near where I needed to be (it was tortuous) I knocked on an unpromising door in the middle of nowhere to be greeted by nice but slightly alarmed office workers. ‘You’re a passenger on the CP Prospect?’ “Dave, this guy says he’s a passenger on the CP Prospect!” “Better call Mansur.”
(Mansur has been my contact in SF since Vaidus was taken off the case. Vaidus was dead nice, but Mansur seemed to view me as a bit of a pain. Mansur hadn’t told the handling agents I was coming even though I could see from the ship’s log he’d visited this afternoon.)

They rang Mansur – “He’s good to go!” So I was then taken by one guy to a gate in one car and was picked up by another guy who asked for ID (first person to do so) and was then dropped off at the ship, which is big and red and smells of fuel. Now this next sentence is true. As we approached the ship in the second car ‘Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay’ by Otis came on. No other song for today is therefore possible.

When I was handed from one guy to another (this has been happening a lot today), I asked if I should sign the visitors’ log. “No, you’re part of the ship now!” What a great sentence. I was then introduced to the second officer and then the Captain who did all the serious bits. I wanted to know what his name is, but it’s clearly just Captain.

I was then handed over to the chief steward, who may be called Antonio, who showed me to my cabin in a lift! It looks as though I’ve been upgraded a bit as I’m the only passenger and as a result my cabin is pretty damn spiffing. Don’t know if I’ll have gone mad after 11 nights in it, but it’s fine for now. The passengers’ lounge is also very nice, but I’m concerned that the crew aren’t allowed in there.

Also, it’s now absolutely clear why I needed slippers – the corridors are spotless and it’s the steward’s job to keep them that way. Just have to improvise with what I’ve got.

Met the cook who was chuffed that I knew what a chapatti was, although he may have been slightly less happy at my ‘no meat’ statement. However, I think I saw a sign exhorting everyone to accept cultural differences, so we should be fine. The dining hours are very fixed, although I do appear to have access to some snacks in my lounge (and it is ‘my’ lounge – bigger than my flat if I’m not mistaken). I’m writing this at the desk in my cabin next to my double bed under the porthole that shows a mad view over containers to San Francisco.

We leave at 0500 tomorrow which may mean I don’t get my picture of the Golden Gate Bridge if I oversleep, or if it’s still dark as we go (I’m not allowed on the deck in the dark). Although I may be allowed in the control room with the captain’s permission.

Still everything appears funky – better get ready for my first meal. It’s pouring down outside, by the way. As it always is the minute I get on any mode of transport. Better that than the other way round.

Trying to write this quickly after 8 hours in the bar we went to for breakfast… Yes 8 hours for breakfast with many pints of Guinness thrown in. Cheers Maria, and thanks Margaret and Diane for being there.

Last night went entirely wrong owing to a round of Long Island Ice Teas. Many kittens may have perished and I’m not accountable for Mexican midgets.

I’m now entirely in the hands of Lithuanians (I realise I’m repeating myself) and may have to start smoking again. Here’s hoping I finally get on the boat tomorrow – but all the arrangements seem very vague.

Bye everyone… Remember comments maketh the blog and this blog has loads more comments than everyone else’s. You could all have a field day while I’m on the boat. Someone should print off for Mum and Dad as their PC is being repaired at the moment (I think Dad was upgrading so he could play Age of Empires with his mates in Singapore).

Today’s song Down In the Tube Station at Midnight by those Jam boys. (It was on in the pub, Col.)

I only get a couple of minutes on this piggy back wifi in Christina’s flat so no no quality control. 3 nights in San Francisco with entirely predictable results. Castro last night, for God’s sake. Armistead was right on every point. Well done Fred for finding the blog. To all of you out there Fred was the lawyer on the train who wants to get to China. Fred – don’t go. They’re bad people.

Michelle – Christina has been exactly how you would think. Helpful and quite drunk. It’s been a blast. Picture here when I can get it sorted.

Couldn’t get the bar one sorted…

Can everyone see who is taking the picture?

I see Chelsea’s run is over. Thanks Ang for the text. I never stated emergencies – just important. That was important.

Boat tonight, apparently – although I now seem to be in the hands of only Lithuanians. If we get raided by pirates, it’s the CP Prospect. 5 Live can contact me on my mobile for an exclusive interview. Fund is now over 50p. If I ever get into Colombia, I’ll leave another post. Likely to be boat related ramblings as surely nothing can happen on a boat…

Love to all…

Can anyone guess what happened after an hour’s worth of free wine and a night out with Christina Treacy? Correct.

As requested, here’s a picture of Rhys trying his best to please his parents by pretending to be into rugby when really he likes football – like all kids.

This may be the last chance I get to write before getting on the mad ferry to Colombia. I’m sure this seemed like a good idea when I booked it…

I see that South America is having riots in preparation for arrival.

This is being written on my notebook PC, meaning if it lasts 3 more days it will have got beyond the Golden Gate Bridge. I’ll try to take a picture. The next threat will be pirates and then it’ll be the Mexican/ Guatamalian/ Columbian authorities.

Bye for now.

Those aware of my last visit to San Francisco will know that it ended in disaster and a certain amount of humiliation. In order to avoid it this time I planned to stay in Oakland – just across the bay, while waiting for my ship to come in. Well, Oakland was rubbish and tried to charge ludicrous rates for rubbish rooms in a one horse town. No wonder Jack London left as soon as he could and Gertrude Stein was so rude about it.

As a result I’m now in an expensive hotel on the harbour in SF. Unlike the crappy Oakland one, this one has Aveda products in the bathroom, Japanese wall-hangings and a comp. leopard-skin bathrobe! (Also, looks like I’ll be bumping into Chas and Horse Features on Sunday now.)

In an effort to try to keep safe I’m going down to the complementary wine session now. I did try to clarify what this involves, and appears to mean simply free wine for an hour. After that I’ll be contacting Christina Treacy. So that should make everything even safer!

A final note on the last post. Every single American I met on the Seattle/San Fran train indicated liberal views. One woman was ‘ashamed’ of her country’s behaviour. Another three were bemoaning the fact that they don’t have a NHS. One guy reminded me that ’54 million of us didn’t vote for him’. Another woman was having a go at the subsidies the airlines receive and all were polite. The woman from Alaska asked her companions to shut up and let me talk so we can ‘hear more of that gorgeous accent’. That lady, by the way, will be a grandmother today – so well done to her. Mr Lawyer and Ms Nurse from San Jose – will this do…?

Right off to look at the wine…

The problem with coming here from Canada is that it is inevitable one is going to make comparisons. As far as I can tell, Seattle is a good example of a fairly forward thinking city within the US context. But after the relaxed civility of Canada (especially Victoria), Seattle feels just rather too scary.

It isn’t scary, of course. It has a half-decent public transport system and is investing further. It has major attractions in the Public Market and Jimi Hendrix/Space Needle stuff. The people seem generally friendly and they seem to be getting on with their lives the same way most of us are. So what’s wrong? My thought today is that it entirely comes down to what a society deems the acceptable bottom line for it’s vulnerable citizens.

When I got to Toronto over three weeks ago now, there were some beggars, but they weren’t aggressive or numerous. Immediately you get to Seattle the dispossessed are in your face. That could just be an accident of geography, of course, (gang warfare is evident in Toronto’s suburbs and East Vancouver can be rotten in parts) but of the three major cities I’ve visited this month this one sticks out.

The beggars I saw in Toronto and Vancouver were not generally mentally ill. Here, so many are, you wonder if there is any facility at all in the city. And that is the nub, I think. The threshold for leaving people to fend for themselves in an urban environment seems lower here. That may be the price of a low tax, gun wielding society, but it is so clearly self-defeating you wonder why people put up with it.

The problem of mentally ill citizens roaming the streets isn’t just a problem for the individuals concerned, of course. These people are prey to people who see a way of improving their own difficult lives by exploiting the even weaker (the American way?). The result is two levels at the bottom of differently vulnerable people interacting to produce a sub-society which scares the rest. The ‘rest’ are mainly ordinary working people, for the rich have ways in which to avoid all but their own. The ordinary working people then seem to leave large swaths of the urban environment to the dispossessed, who only share this environment with social services (if they exist), charities and law enforcement agencies.

It’s all entirely depressing when the richest nation on earth can’t even spare some loose change to sort this out – but inevitable when a society refuses to accept that decent health is a shared responsibility for all its citizens that can return any basic investment many times over in turns of a shared standard of living.

Or maybe it’s just that it rained today.

Anyway, I’m off out for a pint in an Irish pub where a Liam Gallagher is listed as playing this evening. If it’s the right one, I’ll try to provoke him into getting you all spluttering over your corn flakes in 4 hours or so…

Today’s song is Enjoy Yourself by the Specials.

PS – Still no ciggies