Sun, sand and fire fighting
July 17th 2007
Long time no hear, is the best way to start this one I guess. It’s been quite a while since I sent an email of any length, looking back at my “sent messages” list. Things have conspired against me a little but I’ve also been relishing and revelling in the fact that we have had a third cashier and a bit of the workload has been taken off us. Only having to work 70 hour weeks has meant a little time to lay in bed and do nothing but watch TV or read for the odd half hour or so and I’ve taken those moments in both hands and done absolutely nothing with them “¦ which has been good.
I’ve still been getting off the ship at every opportunity though; checking the calendar and seeing that I only have 10.5 weeks until I disembark from this ship has driven home that I only have about 5 more visits to each port and then I’ll probably never see them again. At first there was the excitement of discovery and exploration and then, after a while, there came the familiarity and comfort of routine and habit. Now I have to think of the things that I was putting on my “plenty of time to do that list” and try to tick them off before I leave for good. It may be time to venture into one of those tourist bars and experience a margarita in the souvenir, take-home, plastic yard glass. It may not take pride of place and be a major display in my home but at least I’d be able to make up my own margaritas and drink the occasional one out of it in remembrance. It’s probably even time to start looking at the little knickknacks that I usually seem to acquire but I’ve been putting off as things I can get at the end of the trip. I must have walked past so many street vendors selling so many things I would love to have sitting around as permanent reminders but have never stopped to buy anything. 10.5 weeks seems such a long time standing in that cage but 5 visits seems barely enough time to really take in the ports that I have come to know and even take a little for granted now.
But on to other things.
Yes, we did get another cashier and she is as green as we were led to believe. She’s Romanian and had been working in a resort in the States so her English is pretty good, even if she does think I have a strange accent and am hard to understand. I’ve been spending quite a bit of time with her, both in and out of work which explains in part my laxness with these emails, and it was very early on that I gave her the nickname “˜cranky’. Romanians seem to have a reputation as having no sense of humour but her crankiness goes beyond a national or cultural bound and is a wholly personal thing. It’s also really cute the way she says “craaanky, what is craaanky?” in that Boris and Natasha accent. She has been here 4 weeks and, as I write this, doesn’t plan to be here for a 5th. She will be getting off when we get back to Port Lauderdale again and we will be back to only having two cashiers until they can find someone else to fill her spot. If it takes as long as it did last time then we look like having another 6 weeks of long hours. It seems that there is very little about the ship, the ports or the lifestyle as a whole that is to her liking. I’m the only person she has any time for but, to be brutally honest, while I’ll miss her I won’t be too sad to see her go as I don’t really think this is the job or life for her and she is probably much better off on land.
Well, there’s been a change of venue since I wrote the paragraphs above. I wrote them in my cabin, on a day off. A day off is a very rare commodity at the moment and I was going to devote a large part of the evening to you guys and had planned to write a long and endlessly fascinating email that would probably end up being nominated for a Pulitzer”¦or something like that. Other things intervened however and I hadn’t been writing for long before there was a knock at the door and a young English girl, a dealer, asked me if I wanted to join her and one of the Indian slot technicians, who also had the night off, for a night on the town (or the ship). The three of us ended up watching the show in the theatre, watching a really bad American comedian (when I first moved to New York my apartment was robbed 12 times in the first month. In the end I said to the landlord, “man I need a door”) and walking out part way through his show, eating at the seafood buffet upstairs (crab legs, oysters au gratin, seafood bisque amongst other things), having a drink in the cigar bar (she smokes) and then leaving the crew bar at 2am. As much as I enjoy writing these emails and the words of encouragement I get about them it was probably a much better evening than I was going to spend hunched over a keyboard.
Hence this change of venue. I am now in Cozumel and sitting in Casa Denis with a corona beside me (I can never figure out what the hell to do with the lime), a Mexican platter on its way and a two man mariachi band playing for the table next to me (can they be called a band if there’s only two or are they a trio with a sickie?). Okay I’m going to stop with all the brackets now, you must be getting tired of them (or will I, he he he). The food here is what I like about Cozumel. The duty free shopping is not the standard of other ports but the abundance of good cheap Mexican restaurants within an easy walk of the ship is a great attraction to me, especially on a day like today where I don’t really feel like doing much more than going for a short walk, sitting in the shade with a beer and a burrito and watching the people walk past. Even this restaurant (which has been here since 1945 apparently”¦damn, more brackets) is up a bit of a side street and the majority of people walking past are locals with a mix of Spanish faces and the more indigenous Indian looks. There are enough big belt buckles going past to build myself a small truck and if you’re not wearing boots made out of some reptile or other then you just aren’t hip. I may not have the buckle or the boots but my hiking boots and jeans certainly set me apart from the tourists and must give me some sort of local credibility I’m sure.
But on to other things. What have I been doing since I last wrote? Not much to be brutally honest. I’ve put out fires on a hilltop while the local police have been shooting at me. I’ve swum in the Caribbean and actually been able to see the fish since they came up to mere inches from my face. I’ve been horribly sunburnt while swimming in the Caribbean since my arms aren’t long enough to reach all the parts that ended up being exposed to the sun and I am now shedding enough skin to wallpaper the cabin (what a great image I can paint with just a few words!). I have had a promotion and pay rise and can just about afford the Mexican platter that is arriving at the table. I have also had my first major variance of $100 and couldn’t really care less.
Another quick change of venue. I’ve finished my platter and my coronas, paid the bill and bought some artwork. I was walking from Casa Denis to the big square with the idea of sitting under the rotunda and writing some more when I was side tracked by a crowd around a young guy who was squatted down and seemed to be spraying something onto the ground. It turned out that he was using cans of spray paint to do the most amazing paintings. He was rattling them off on order and in only a few minutes but to look at them it seems like they would take days or weeks to complete. There was a pile of completed ones on the ground next to him and I started leafing through, finding a couple I really liked and was wondering how much they were likely to be when a young kid with excellent English said they were only $10. I ended up buying 3 for $25 and once they are framed I doubt anyone will believe that an original piece of artwork could sell for a price like that. I’m sitting here pretty happy at the moment, unfortunately I’m also sitting here with the sweat dripping off my nose and on to the keyboard so I may pack it up, grab an ice-cream from a little cart nearby and head back to the ship and the air-conditioning before writing a little more. A quick stop in a camera store and then up to the bar for a coke and an explanation of the things I mentioned in that last paragraph.
Okay, at the risk of making everyone’s heads swim, there has been another change of venue and quite a considerable amount of time passing since I wrote all of the above. Something happened that prevented me from continuing once I got back onboard from Cozumel and then I had a sea day the next day, embarks on the turnaround day in Port Lauderdale and then 2 more sea days. As I’ve said, sea days are not a good thing and the free time is pretty minimal meaning that writing is abandoned in favour of sleeping so here I sit today, in St Maarten, having port manning and nothing else to do since I can’t get off the ship. So where do I start?
Cranky is gone, we are back to two cashiers and waiting on word about when or if we are going to get another one. I am going to miss her even if she was incredibly infuriating most of the time. An elderly passenger took a shine to her and took a photo of the two of us and then printed two copies in his cabin and presented them to us. I now have a photo of us both even if my face is mostly obscured by the bars of the cage. She has also promised to email me once she gets back to Romania so it’ll be interesting to see if she writes with an accent as well. The upshot is that we are back to two cashiers but luckily we are resigned to and familiar with the situation so it doesn’t hold any great fears for us and may even be a valid excuse to get out of embarkations for a little while if we don’t look like getting anyone new. If there is one thing that I hate on this ship it is embarkations and I have now had the pleasure of doing the “elevator” portion of the job. This involved standing in an elevator for 6.5 hours and pressing the correct button for the floor that people are going to. Sounds complicated and something that would take a lot of in-depth training to master but I was just thrown in there and had to figure out the whole control panel on my own and under field conditions. I’m just glad that there wasn’t a real emergency because I don’t think I would have gotten out alive without having to kill all the Americans trapped in there with me out of sheer frustration at the questions they asked. There are only so many times I can look surprised when they point out how tall I am (oh my god, I never noticed!) and keep a straight face at the awe they show when the elevator speaks to them and tells them which floor its stopping on. The other serious problem is that the smell of BO and cheap perfume gets overwhelming after a matter of minutes let alone 6.5 hours.
What else was on my list of things I’ve done? I did a fire fighting course the last time in St Thomas. This was fun and frustrating; fun because we got to play with fire extinguishers and put out fires and frustrating because it didn’t really teach us anything and took up a day in what is my favourite port. Early that morning a whole group of us assembled at the gangway, were issued with overalls and given a selection of fire extinguishers. None of us looked overly keen on being there, early mornings not being real good ways to work up a lot of enthusiasm in people especially those of us who had only had a few hours sleep since finishing the night before. A Peruvian dealer and I were the casino representatives; unfortunately he is a naturally enthusiastic and bubbly person and only added to my general feeling of weariness. 25 of us were loaded into a ute/taxi and off we headed, uphill and down dale, over to the other side of the island, eventually turning off the road and into an industrial area that included, amongst other things, the islands main “refuse station”. The guys that were there moving rubbish around must have been looking at us as we drove past and thinking that we had paid for the crappiest tour on the island. Eventually reaching the top of a very sparse hill we were met outside a random collection of old shipping containers by an American guy who introduced himself as a professional fire-fighter who was there to give us our training course. He explained that the top of this remote hill was the only place on the island that he was allowed to light fires and apologised for how far we had been forced to travel to get there. Then he sat us down and started on the standard lecture about the causes of fires and the various means of putting them out.
Everything he told us was the standard sort of thing that I’ve heard in every fire lecture in every place I’ve worked and didn’t really hold any great surprises. There were, however, a couple of surprises in store. At one point while he was talking there was the nearby sound of gunfire. We must have all had slightly startled looks on our faces because he explained that just down the hill was the police firing range and he warned us against going too close to the edge of the hill at any point for fear of stray rounds. It shouldn’t be a problem he said but just in case”¦ After the lecture the somewhat more interesting things started. It turned out that one of the shipping containers was set up as a maze and he pumped smoke into it and then made us find our way through. The idea was to simulate the conditions you might find in trying to get out of a fire and I have to admit that it would not be a very pleasant experience if you were in any way claustrophobic. It was also bloody hot in a small shipping container with the sun beating down on it and smoke filling it to inches from the floor. Getting out was just a matter of keeping one hand always on the right hand wall and trusting that there was actually a way, out but in the panic of a real fire the chances of getting completely lost are pretty good.
Once we had stumbled out of the container we got to put out fires with fire extinguishers. The first one was a grease fire on a stove and then a much larger one that was propane gas bubbling up through a large vat of water. That big one was a little scary because it meant trying to get close enough to make the extinguisher effective while the flames danced around unpredictably in the gusting winds. I went first and must have gotten extra marks for being the only one to back out after having put the fire out. Everyone else got yelled out for turning their backs on a fire that could potentially start up again. After everyone had done their thing we all got loaded back into the taxi and taken back to the ship. I’ve done worse training courses; it was only the long drive there and back and the fact that it kept me away from my favourite port that annoyed me slightly. At least I get a certificate though, which should add a certain lustre to my resume.
On the subject of fires. Every couple of weeks we have a boat drill. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this before, probably have since everyone hates them but the idea is that the ship simulates various emergency situations for the specialist teams and it usually culminates in one of the muster stations having to do a simulated evacuation out to the life boats using the crew as pretend passengers. We have had to evacuate our muster station once in the time I’ve been here and my job at the point of abandoning ship is to hold up a little paddle and lead a line of 150 passengers out to the correct lifeboat. It must have all gone well the time we did it because other stations have had to repeat the exercise because they made mistakes, something everyone else is relieved about because it puts our next one off for a couple of weeks. Anyway”¦a couple of weeks ago I woke up just before the normal alarm bell sounded, which is our signal to go to our muster points, got dressed, picked up my lifejacket, warm clothing, hat and emergency card and, when the bell sounded, opened the door. Standing outside was a very surprised looking officer with a clipboard and a corridor full of smoke. It turned out that this particular week the emergency was a fire in our corridor and they had gone around to everyone else’s cabins, woken them up and made them panic and do what they should do in that situation. People had been running around and waking up other people and then evacuating the corridor. Unfortunately my cabin is on its own around a corner and in its own little dead end. My roommate and I had been abandoned to burn to death. The officer made us get down on the ground and crawl out of the smoke but I got the impression he was as surprised to see us as we were to see him. So those have been my two fire experiences lately.
What else was on my list of things to write about”¦my promotion? I am now a cashier. You may be surprised to hear that, being under the mistaken impression that I was already a cashier but I was actually a trainee cashier and on a lower pay rate. I am now a fully fledged, know everything and do everything cashier and getting paid the princely sum of $10 a day more for doing it. The work doesn’t seem to have changed much but the pay packet increase is nice and $70 a week makes a surprising difference. Walt Disney World is looking better and better all the time.
Now, about swimming in the Caribbean. A few weeks ago cranky and her roommate decided to go to the beach in Cozumel and asked me if I wanted to go. Not being one to pass up a day at the beach with two young girls in bikinis I agreed and had to make a hurried trip into the prior port to find a pair of shorts I could wear. Finding a bright yellow pair I felt confident that I wouldn’t stand out and approached the morning with some enthusiasm. I’m not really a beach person but figured that 6 months in the Caribbean wouldn’t be complete without having spent at least one day laying on the sand and the company was pleasant so what did I have to lose? Cozumel is essentially a coral island and where the ship docks there are no beaches as such, just a rock wall with the water lapping against it. There are beaches a taxi ride away but we walked to what turned out to be a restaurant. Cranky’s roommate had been there before and knew where to go so we followed her along the street and into the front door of a Mexican restaurant. Through the restaurant proper and we suddenly found ourselves in a large open space that had been covered with a generous amount of sand, had chairs set up and steps leading down to the water. It was essentially a fake beach set up in front of the restaurant and it meant that, for the price of breakfast, we could spend a few hours laying on the sand and swimming in the ocean. A very nice set up and one that the three of us were quick to take advantage of. A breakfast of eggs Benedict (Mr Bourdain forgive me) and I found myself diving off a small stone jetty into the clearest water I have ever seen. Even without my glasses and not being able to see more than a few inches I could still see amazing amounts of tropical fish as they swam right up to me. The water was pleasant, not too cold and not too hot and was perfect for cooling off. I swam around for a long time just revelling in the water and the fish and the fact that I was immersed in the Caribbean, another thing to add to life’s experiences. That was the pleasant side of the day, that and the laying in the sun with two young girls in bikinis. The unpleasant part was yet to occur.
Yes, I used sunscreen. I remember the song and all the ads on TV and was fully aware how pale large parts of me are so I was careful to apply. The problem is that I have a surprisingly broad back and, in retrospect, surprisingly short arms. There was a patch on my back that I didn’t know I hadn’t covered and I also missed the entire back of my legs. All of this wasn’t so much of a problem at the time but when I woke up the next morning I began to realise what pain really meant. That small patch on my back was red and sore but was nothing compared to the back of my legs. Everywhere else had already gone brown, as I tend to do, but those legs of mine were a bit of a concern. I spent some time with them wrapped in a wet towel but for the next few days at work every movement seemed to rub the fabric of my pants on them in ways designed to extract the maximum amount of pain. Of course then they started to peel and itch and that was almost as bad. I certainly don’t regret the day and would happily do it again, I just think I may take a few extra minutes to ensure a complete coverage rather than looking at the scenery.
So that’s where I stand at the moment. Just the normal days of sun, sand and fire fighting. There are a couple more things I could mention but I should send this one off just so that you know I’m still around.
Greg