FW: THE MV EXPLORER IS NOT IN DISTRESS, EXCEPTING CASES OF SEVERE LACK OF ALCOHOLS

Please excuse the shameful delay in reporting back any and all Interesting Things since South Africa (when was that). First let me take care of the shipboard housekeeping.

 

This will hopefully be the most amusing geography lesson y'all have heard in a while. The night before our arrival in Mauritius (more on that later) a good friend pointed at my feet and informed me that "home is that way." This of course prompted a wave of jokes back home that we were stepping on your toes or had a lovely view up your shorts. Our arrival in Chennai, India also marked the only day on which our dawn was California's dusk, though either way you happen to see it we were watching the same giant ball of burning gas mosey up or down from opposite sides of a rather large rotating rock. Departure from India marked our getting closer and closer to home instead of farther and farther away. Somewhere in this whole business we've managed to lose twelve total hours of sleep and gain half a day, generally at the rate of one hour clock advances every other day at sea. Much to our dismay the crossing of the International Date line was scheduled away from Thanksgiving, probably due to an unwillingness to serve two feasts in a row would probably wipe out the national Japanese turkey supply (there's an Economics of Globalization paper topic for you).

 

In other news, Happy Halloween to all you pumpkin mutilators back home! We're having our own festivities on board after classes and dinner (Saturdays have long ceased to be anything meaningful), and I promise to provide prompt updates on that if y'all promise to do the same for me. Try not to get too crazy without this cat, but if you must, please provide photographic or otherwise documented evidence. 

The Rainbow Nation

Perhaps the difficulty in reflecting on Mauritius (which, for those of you who don't know, is a miniscule island-state off the western coast of Africa that fell under alternating French and British colonial rule, and likewise the names of Maurice and Morris, until 1968) is in the fact that we were only there for three days. It might have also been due to being viewed by many as a resort town, which, in all fairness, it has a tendency towards. Mauritius boasts an 80% Hindu population as well as many Chinese and various African countries, it is incredibly unlike any of those countries in their proper indigenous form. Mauritius is an Island, filled with colorful Islanders. Think Indian Bahamas. With far spicier rum and cheaper wine. Which is meant in the most appreciative way possible, as it gave me unhampered opportunity to break out my French skills with locals on the beach.

 

One great story of note, actually, was finding a man in his 60s with dreds down to his knees who stared constantly at something just beyond my left elbow and accused me of being part of the System. After assuring him of our loyalty to no such thing, we said our goodbyes and he reassured us that, when this is all over and all is said and done, he would be waiting for us. All of us. On the right. 

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If the subject line didn't display it was the Hebrew for what is swiftly becoming my favorite phrase: gam zeh yaavor or, "This too shall pass."

Lincoln used it once:"It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: "And this, too, shall pass away." How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!"

The original:
One day Solomon decided to humble Benaiah Ben Yehoyada, his most trusted minister. He said to him, "Benaiah, there is a certain ring that I want you to bring to me. I wish to wear it for Sukkot which gives you six months to find it." "If it exists anywhere on earth, your majesty," replied Benaiah, "I will find it and bring it to you, but what makes the ring so special?" "It has magic powers," answered the king. "If a happy man looks at it, he becomes sad, and if a sad man looks at it, he becomes happy." Solomon knew that no such ring existed in the world, but he wished to give his minister a little taste of humility. Spring passed and then summer, and still Benaiah had no idea where he could find the ring. On the night before Sukkot, he decided to take a walk in one of the poorest quarters of Jerusalem. He passed by a merchant who had begun to set out the day's wares on a shabby carpet. "Have you by any chance heard of a magic ring that makes the happy wearer forget his joy a
 nd the broken-hearted wearer forget his sorrows?" asked Benaiah. He watched the grandfather take a plain gold ring from his carpet and engrave something on it. When Benaiah read the words on the ring, his face broke out in a wide smile. That night the entire city welcomed in the holiday of Sukkot with great festivity. "Well, my friend," said Solomon, "have you found what I sent you after?" All the ministers laughed and Solomon himself smiled. To everyone's surprise, Benaiah held up a small gold ring and declared, "Here it is, your majesty!" As soon as Solomon read the inscription, the smile vanished from his face. The jeweler had written three Hebrew letters on the gold band: gimel, zayin, yud, which began the words "Gam zeh ya'avor" -- "This too shall pass." At that moment Solomon realized that all his wisdom and fabulous wealth and tremendous power were but fleeting things, for one day he would be nothing but dust.

One more: "Luck is just probability taken personally."

The Atheist in a Foxhole muttering Gam Zeh Yaavor,
Phil

In Trouble Again

Grace,

Omi got upset that I didn't include the fact that she watched the Ghana-Brazil soccer match as well, in fact, she was the one who told it was on (go figure).  She did rant at the Ghana player who had his penalty kick blocked in the shootout and cheered loudly when Brazil missed their final kick.

That does bring up an Omi story... we traveled to New York to watch the Washington pro soccer team (the Diplomats back then) play the NY pro soccer team (the Cosmos).  They were the two best teams in the league and it was a bitter rivalry.  There was one bus load of Washington fans in the stadium of 50,000 NY fans.  The game was close... tight... back and forth... near the end, one of the NY players took down a Washington player in the penalty box... and no foul was called.  Omi, quite simply, went berserk.  Here I was sandwiched among 50,000 rabid NY fans with my wife screaming every vile thing she would think of about the referee, the fans, the NY players... She was beyond my limited ability to control her... all I could do was pray that some NY fan wouldn't take it personally and take it out on her ... or me.  She (and I) did receive several comments on the way to the bus... but did make it home unscathed.

Then there was the time at Oktoberfest after Italy beat Germany in the World Cup final... but that's a story for another time...

love you,
Boompa




This just goes to show that we're all pink on the inside, and by far the squirrelliest bunch of creatures to have ever roamed the Earth. Show love for your Ghanaian brothers 2010!

Coming to Cape Town 2010

Football fever is sweeping the African continent. Every Ghanaian taxi driver who rocketed us back and forth along the Tema Motorway cheerfully reminded us of the US World Cup defeat a few years back. The Ghanaian team went exceptionally far and finally lost to the Italians - the Champions that year, as you may recall with Zidane headbutt infamy. Point being, buy your tickets and make your friends NOW. Many of us already have.

Ghana Wins!

Grace,

Probably a good thing you're not in Ghana this evening... they beat Brazil for the Under 20 Soccer World Championship this afternoon.  They won in a shootout after a scoreless regulation and two overtime periods.  Ryan, Erin and I watched the last part of regulation, both overtime periods and of course the shootout. This is probably the first major championship ever won by that country so I'm sure it is utter bedlam there... and you'd probably be late getting back to the ship again.

Love you,
Boompa

In which our heros reach the sothernmost point in their journey

We had been told that of all ports to wake up before dawn to watch the sunrise, South Africa’s Cape Town would be definitively it.  And we did so.  And it was.  Cape Town is God’s own port – the waterfront warm and immaculate and welcoming with the city inching modestly up the foothills of Table Mountain in the middle, cliff sides catching the sunlight. 
Of course I had earned myself six hours of dock time due to a slight run in with a Ghanaian taxi and the resulting 20 minutes tardiness for being back on ship.  We’re a pair of underappreciated (unimpressive?) geniuses, Liz and I.  So it was that after cheering on our pilot boat (pirate boat amongst the clever, har HAR) I found myself in the mood for a nice leisurely nap, as if I would be doing anything else.

Nap done, packing finished, enter now a freshly cast duo in our adventures, Sarah and Stephanie.  Sarah is from Colorado, also shaved her head (but maintains a mohawk and consequentially has to worry about fending off the girls’ field hockey team) and majors in Undecided.  Stephanie is from Texas (which is hysterical when she tells our host countrymen as they always want to know about her ranch, the existence of which I had always assumed myself and was equally as startled as the Afrikaners to hear wasn’t true) and majors in anthropology.  We made our way to the Backpackers’ Hostel on Kloof Street, a few blocks away from the (in)famous Long Street, our home for the next two nights.
It’s incredibly important to break away from SAS kids every once in a while, especially once the general reputation has been set.  It never takes long for word to travel, especially where alcohol is involved.  As Dean Byron put it, “Do NOT be stupid.  Be cute.”   So it was that after a little grocery shopping (foreign grocery stores being absolutely fascinating) we headed to a little quaint place called Rick’s Café Americano.  They played such timeless classics as YMCA and Kung Fu Fighting.  I was immediately taken.  We made sure to steal ashtrays.  Cute.

Our hostel manager was of impeccable taste in all things fun and found us a tour of the winelands around Stellenbosch and Franschoek – beautiful country and delightful wine.  There were six of us – the three Americans, two from the Netherlands on a four months backpacking vacation heading towards Australia and New Zealand, etc. and our incredibly zealous South African tour guide.  The tastings began at Fairview Vineyards promptly at 0930.  Before I get into how long of a day it was, let me implore you to get your hands on just about any South African Fairview wine available to you.  Go desperately out of your way.  And then buy two of each, one for me.  Back to the tastings – we visited four or five places guided by our increasingly heavy-handed tour lady, who delivered far beyond her promised 22 tastings.  Back by 1730 to catch the train to Simonstown and a nap.

Our hotel in Simonstown was perched right on Boulder Beach, home of the African penguin.  They are adorable, fat, and punt-able.  The three of us spent the day at Cape Point, first having gotten there in a local Rikki (not Rickety, ho ho) which was an adventure in and of itself.  It was about the size of a Smart Car, 30 years older, rated for eight passengers  and driven by an incredibly fat man.  He had no mercy for speed and turns, it was thrilling all the way along the coast. 
Cape Point is nothing short of majestic.  It juts out between the Atlantic and Indian oceans and maybe if you squint hard enough you can imagine where the South Pole would be if you could squint a little harder.  I couldn’t believe They actually made anything like it, or what we should ever be allowed to see it.  Pictures will be up eventually, but for the time being rest assured that they do exist.

After Simonstown we made our way back on the train to Cape Town for one last day in South Africa.

To Stephanie and Grace - May love bless you with joy, peace, health, wisdom, hope, healing and abundance! Love, Sister Mary James

The last full day in Cape Town was one I needed to myself, at least initially.  I took the time to explore the V&A Waterfront and its shops, including but not limited to Gucci, Hugo Boss, Dolce and Gabana, Nine West, and the Aston Martin and Ducati dealerships.  From there I walked through the city to Long Street and followed a few scruffy, hungry looking kids my age into a hole in the wall restaurant/bar called Mr. Pickwicks, which boasts incredible tin plate specials, cheap pints, and the most enthralling bathroom graffiti outside of Richmond.  I sat for several hours and read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance and talked to whomever came my way, including Braam, the construction worker on lunch break who invited me to a place where the local stand up comedians hang around later on in the evening and drew an Om in my notebook.  There are some things you simply shouldn’t say no to.
Stephanie was kind enough to accompany me on my wild-eyed harebrained schemes around the city one last time.  We toasted South Africa over prairie fires (or fairy priers, depending on how many you’ve had) and made our way with Braam to his spot where we were immediately accosted by/introduced to Sister Mary James, the cross-dressing touchy feely ABBA-singing Nun.  If you consider yourself to be a fairly well-adjusted person, I beg you to visit www.youtube.com/sistermaryjames, if only to understand what kind of evening we were thrown into. 
Stephanie and I loved Sister Mary.  We actually bought her CD, signed and sealed with not just one but two kisses and includes such classic hits as “The Way You Make Me Feel,” “YMCA (Extended Remix),” “Wake Me Up Before You Go Go,” and “These Boots Are Made For Walking.”
So there I was, in the craziest bar in South Africa with the funkiest people at the strangest point in my life to date, as if I could honestly have been doing anything else, finally feeling at home.  And just to complete the head on collision course of everything in that moment, a song I had never heard before began to play, as if it could honestly not have been played at any other time.  When the universe speaks, you listen. I bought it the next day.

The National - All the Wine

I'm put together beautifully
Big wet bottle in my hand
Big wet rose in my teeth
Like every Californian
So tall I take over the street
With high beams shining up my back
Wingspan unbelievable
I'm a festival
I'm a parade

And all the wine is all for me
And all the wine is all for me
And all the wine is all for me

I'm so sorry but the motorcade will have to go around me this time
'Cause God is on my side
And I'm the child bride

And all the wine is all for me
And all the wine is all for me
And all the wine is all for me