Saturday, November 23, 2013

Europe's Hawaii

Canary Islands, Spain. Change of plans, instead of Tenerife the Sᴓrlandet stopped in Las Palmas. We had to fix our air conditioning and as a result extra time was allotted to exploring the shores of what some consider Europe’s Hawaii. Let me start off by saying that in all honesty this port, through my eyes, was not the most enjoyable or memorable.

First night was a blast. Being able to get off the ship and grab real fresh fruit was marvellous. Bananas, apples, and oranges melted in my mouth. They were the velvety chocolate from one’s favourite chocolatier.

Second day provisions came “first thing” which was noon and so only the evening was given for shore leave. I travelled by bus to old town and there Romane, a close friend on the ship, guided us through the cracked alleyways and tile dominated neighbourhoods to Christopher Columbus’ house. Not bad for a night out, huh?

Third day was given up to a long hike along a ravine in central Gran Canaria. I loved it. The fresh air was great (not like we don’t get any on a ship though, but it is different), the view was amazing, and I only ended up with a few needles in my hand from a cactus. Best of all though was the guide we had. He made the group laugh harder than anyone I’ve ever met who isn’t a professional comedian. Did you know that there are no natural rivers in the Canary Islands? The ravine was the only one in Gran Canaria, possibly the Canary Islands, that wasn’t dried up.

Fourth day I went surfing in the morning. I have a new earned respect for all surfers. The sport is challenging. It was a great feeling, however, when I finally caught a wave and stood tall (low stance) on my board. Much salt water was swallowed though. As a result I got a terrible stomach bug and could not even make it back to the ship. We needed to call a taxi driver. Half way home I crawled out of the car and puked my guts out.

No food was consumed for three days following my taxi incident. I became dehydrated and had really low blood sugar. My stomach cramped, my head spun, the whole world, it seemed, was going to collapse in on itself. All I wanted was to leave the program and to be back home with my family. 

The Best Night Watch of My Life

At 0145 I was woken up for night watch. Usually this is the worst part of living on a boat because I know that I have to get up, get dressed, put on a harness; brave the elements for two hours soaking my feet and the rest of my body only to fall back asleep for two hours. Once I’m up though it’s never as bad as I predict and if I can stay awake then I usually end up enjoying myself. However, this night was better than the rest.

0155 – Watch hand over.
0200 – Start watch on standby and am quickly removed to help set sail.
0240 – Sail is set, bracing complete, main deck closed off because it is not stable enough.

Having the main deck closed is a huge thing for us students because it means that the ship is rocking rather vigorously and the waves that crash over are too powerful that they could potentially take our feet out right out from under us. Safety rounds are discontinued.
At this point the excitement fills my body; a new rush of adrenaline. I’m slightly terrified about going overboard but I try not to think too much.

0300 – Look out.

I’m placed on lookout but I can’t stand because there isn’t enough to hold onto to. So, my watch mate and I sit outside the navigation house. With every rock of the ship I’m elevated into the air and left hanging from the hand rails. As the ship rocks to port I slam back down against the deck. It’s painful and irritating my tailbone but I don’t care because exhilaration is rushing through my veins.

Wave after wave hits me full on and the foulies that are meant to protect from the element are a mere layer of tissue in comparison. I become soaked to the bone. Bioluminescent coats my body and I glow in the darkness of the aft deck. My fingers drawing images with the production of light, it is an unfamiliar and far too likeable situation.

0400 – Watch change.

Watch is over and we’re rushed back down to the safety of the banjer. The officer does not wish to keep us on deck for any longer than necessary. I can’t fall asleep though because my head continuously replays the last two hours. It’s wonderful. I don’t think I can ever forget that one night watch.

0415 – I fall sound asleep.


Seeing Morocco

Is it weird to say that a single port has changed the way I look at life? If not, then I will most definitely say this about Morocco. Never have I experienced a world so different from my own, so far from any reality that I grew up in.

The houses were a construction project that rarely got finished, children begged at every corner you passed by, women covered themselves head to toe, air conditioning was unheard of, jobs were back-breaking and the hours long.

I found it interesting talking with the locals because while I thought of these circumstances as some sort of issue, they saw it as life. They knew no different and were, for the most part, content in how they lived their lives.

After a while it began to make sense to me. I realised that it was all based on perspective and I am fortunate now to have another point of view.

One boy who is my age that I met at a pottery co-op had been working from the time he was five. That astonished me for some reason. I couldn’t imagine how different our lives were. At the age of five I was running around playing hide-and-go-seek with my friends. Again though, it was ordinary for him and he didn’t mind because he made money. Very little but he stay made money.

It’s interesting to consider how ill-advised I was prior to Morocco. I had an understanding of what I was walking into but I never thought about how I would be walking out after experiencing and not just reading or viewing.

I loved North Africa. It changed the way my eyes are functioned to seeing my surroundings. I saw things that will change my life. Even on a single bus ride disease and poverty were present. The worst for me was seeing one man who's leg had only flesh left there was no skin and sowly it had begun to decay. The flys swarmed it. I couldn't do anything except imagine the agony that he must have been in. Worst of all was the fact that he was not the only one. 

Everyone tells me that Morocco is nothing compared to Senegal and so I cannot wait until adventures in West Africa. I can only wonder how my perspective might change once more. It will be interesting.

Life on a Ship

If you think life at home is hard, try living on a ship:
0340 – wake up for watch
0400 – watch handover (on-coming)
0555 – watch handover (off-going)
0600 – get dressed for the day, make my bunk, stow my bunk, brush teeth, and take care of personal needs
0620 – galley is woken up
0645 – galley starts preparing breakfast
0720 – breakfast is served
0755 – muster on deck
0800 – colours (flags are risen), daily announcements from all the departments on the ship
0810 – cleaning stations (heads, showers, banjer, deck, etc.)
0900-2000 – 4 hours of classes, 1 hour of sail training, 2 hours of deck work, approximately 1hour of idle hands (if you’re not in class then you’re on deck helping)
1130 – lunch is served
1830 – dinner is served
2000-2200 – homework (usually one to two hours’ worth), club meetings, social time.
2205 – lights out.
2210-0100 – study area is open for students to do more homework as needed.


I’m awake from 3:40am until 10:20 pm every day. In a single day I will usually have about 2-3 hours of homework and 3 hours of deck work (a lot being cleaning). Some idle time will be spent aloft taking in sail and setting sail and more cleaning. Lunch and dinner are served for an hour, but watch often overlaps and a seating’s only half an hour. I will often nap for an hour. Tea has become a best friend on the ship. Any other time that isn’t spent in class, on physicals (helm, standby, look out, safety), or sleeping is then given to socialising, playing board games, writing blogs, club meetings, or just hanging out with friends in the banjer. It’s a tiring lifestyle but I love it and I couldn’t be reward in any better way: travel. 

A Family Port

Cadiz, Spain. This was the first port that I really started to relax. Coming alongside the yards were dressed (people went into the rigging and dispersed themselves evenly), my friends were smiling and cheering, from a distance I could hear from a distance the parents loud roars of eagerness to see their children. Fog horns blew, tears rolled down cheeks, and I couldn’t help but feel slightly gloomy. Mom and Dad were unable to make it because of financial reasons. I knew this but similar to the other seven orphans, as we called our parentless selves, I was secretly hoping that they might surprise me. It never happened and I was disappointed once again for even putting myself in suspense. However, the disappointment didn’t last long.
Four of my girlfriends and I headed out to a flamenco show with our biology/chemistry teacher. We made sure to stop for the comforts of home (classic candies) and dressed up the fanciest I have ever been since stepping foot on the Sᴓrlandet.

My heart skipped a beat at every stomp of the dancer’s shoes and every flail of the arms. From fear to pure pleasure the dancing had my emotions on a roller coaster. Exaggerating much? Maybe, but it was unlike anything I had seen back home.

The next day my cousins, who live just outside of town, came to visit. I was able to show off my glorious home and we talked for hours and hours about everything under the sun. It was nice to have family to visit with. Also, they gave an opportunity to catch up on some much needed sleep. I thank them many times over for that.

Choosing to stay in Cadiz, Jeff and Charo and Jake came along on the Class Afloat scheduled port program to Sevilla. A gorgeous town, Sevilla brought tears to my eyes and for the second time this port I cried. According to Jake, my little cousin, the Cathedral situated downtown is the third largest in the world and that’s not hard to believe. It was magnificent. If I had the time I would have spent hours there. All I could think about while sitting in front of the choir was how much my Nana would have loved it. We all have these moments where emotion takes the better of us and burning sensation from behind the eyes causes our waterworks to be turned on, but not for sorrow, instead for beauty. Sevilla became mine.
The classical also occurred on the third night. Pubs were jam packed. Like a can of sardines each person crammed in front of a television ready to watch Madrid vs. Barcelona. Despite having rarely followed European soccer in the past, after the classical I think a new tradition is in the making. It was a great experience being a part of such a culturally appetizing event.

On a final note, Spanish food is extraordinary, hospitality is great, and the Mediterranean is very cold in this time of year. I love Spain.




Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Halloween

How can anyone miss out on such a spectacular occasion? Even aboard a tall ship Halloween is still recognized as a time to dress up, dance, eat many sweets, and of course trick-or-treat. I was in the galley (kitchen) for a fair amount of the day leading up to October 1st. Caz, the cook on board, was busy creating homemade sweets, and to contribute I created a classic recipe given to me by my family on the other side of the world (New Zealand), Hokey-Pokey (sponge toffee).

Trick-or-treating was fantastic. We searched every nook and cranny of the Sorlandet looking for jack-o-lanterns which indicated sweets. The carved pumpkins could be found in aft cabins, chain lockers, galley doors, portholes, hatches, etc. It was a lot of fun, and a great relief from all the hard-work and extra time some of us were putting in on deck. I was once again a little child with the joys of a gift-giving holiday echoing in my eyes. Halloween was fantastic and could never have come sooner.

I took the role of a 90's librarian's assistant. Other costumes included: ghosts, pumpkins, maritime crew, Cleopatra, breaking news, flamenco dancers, and Tarzan.

Midterms... Yuck!

Exams are horrible on a boat! Despite overcoming the fear of major heights, being alone in a vast ocean, fifty-knot winds, and occasional home-sickness, it was the exams that I found most challenging. To really understand one must be a student, but just imagine a sewage tank erupting in your basement. The smell would cause every morsel of you to want nothing more than an abandon ship. Six hours in the banjer at a time leaves the head amiss and seasickness becomes inevitable. Exams take three hours to write. In that time alone I fill eight pages worth of writing for political science, twenty five point chemistry questions, or essays and multiple choice in English. It could be more but how can a teacher expect their students to perfect and not be scrambled for time when the funnels become a main priority. I'm not sure how to do well, I  just my best effort in and can only hope for the best when report cards are sent home. Fingers crossed, though.

The Land of Pastries

Lisbon, Portugal. I ate my way through Lisbon; it was a feast of pastries. From natas to chocolate mice and hazelnut pie, they had it all. Highlights would have to include the trip to Sintra, dry dock, and my favourite: soccer against a Portuguese varsity team.

An hour and a half on public transit so that I could reach Sintra was quite worth it. We had originally gone in a group of eight; however, some of us split off and visited Quinta da Regaleira. It was the summer residence of the Carvalho Monteiro family built in the neo-manueline style. I wish that I could talk a lot about the beauty of Regaleira’s architecture and gardens, but it wasn’t that which I paid most attention to. Instead, my three hours were spent exploring underground tunnels that connected the palace and the chapel, as well as many infinity wells which spiraled from top to bottom. Large crevasses allowed me to hide from my fellow class mates and a lack of lighting caused my heart to beat a million minutes a second as I attempted to swallow my great fear of the dark.  Bethany must have had bruises all up her arm because I tended to jump and grasp on for dear life every time something went bang.

Dry dock, the aftermath of a fishing line being jammed in Sᴓrlandet’s propeller, was an adventure of its own. How many people can say that they have seen their house from top to bottom, foundation and all? Walking down under the vessel gave a new perspective on how huge, or in some eyes how small, home really is. Furthermore, it was quite abnormal being completely still. To be honest, I found it difficult falling asleep and having nothing to rock me gently (sometimes abruptly) into my dreams. The workers were friendly though, and only once did a patrol officer monitoring the gate give some students a scare when he left for safety rounds and they only barely made curfew. Dry dock, in my opinion, was a great opportunity.

For a port program CAF organised a cultural exchange with the local school. Select students took us on a guided tour of Lisbon which included the world’s finest natas (recipe almost bought for 3 million euros), a maritime museum (very interesting because tall ships have now become a part of my history as well), and a visit to the extravagant cathedral. Afterwards we travelled back to their school and had a game of soccer with their varsity team. I had forgotten how much I loved the sport. Not once did I take the chance of subbing out because I knew that this may be close to the last time I play in ten months. Despite my team coming dead last, tears never swelled. It was all just a lot of fun and nobody had a frown on their face. I wish I could have stayed longer but I’m sure their team needed to continue on with practice. I’ll never forget that game.

Lisbon as a whole passed by far too quickly. I know I must say this often but I truly believe that it is a port for everyone. If ever you are in Europe make sure to stop in the land of pastries. I promise that you won’t regret it.