Greta Thunberg's Expedition

Greta Thunberg, 16, made Time Magazine’s Person of the Year. Good for her, and I mean it. While Time Magazine and most people, from Brazil to Israel, are focusing on her climate-change advocacy, I’m honing in on her recent maritime accomplishment.

Scandinavians have a good relationship with the oceans. Since Leif Eriksson and his Vikings made a transatlantic voyage, citizens of the Baltic Sea have dominated and improved the maritime arts. Norwegian-born Andrew Furuseth (1854-1938) spearheaded legislation for the benefit of American merchant mariners. Scandinavian merchant ship officers and crew were a common sight in ports around the world. Britain, France, and America had colonies and overseas territories as natural customers for their merchant fleets; Baltic ships sailed not for empire, but for trade. In 1947, Thor Heyerdahl crossed the Pacific Ocean onboard Kon-Tiki, a primitive raft.  Scandinavian mariners have disappeared in the past quarter-century, displaced by ship’s crews from the Philippines and India.

This summer, Greta Thunberg and her father sailed across the Atlantic Ocean in a solar-equipped sailboat. Modern navigation and life safety equipment made her voyage less perilous than her Swedish ancestors. Nevertheless, it is an uncommon feat, which puts her in the realm of modern explorers.  

In the age of low-cost jet travel, crossing the Atlantic Ocean by sea has become a lost art. During the “Atlantic cruising season”, the summer months of placid waves, Cunard Lines alone sails the once-renowned Southampton, UK to New York City route. As late as the 1960’s, a variety of passenger ships crossed the Atlantic, year-round: Pounding through Winter North Atlantic’s 40-foot waves is the exact definition of “buyer beware”, a trip for brave and hearty souls to endure. By sailing for the Mediterranean instead of the North Sea, I have not done a true Winter North Atlantic run. The experience, however, is what put “hair on the chest” of classmates who made container-ship runs to Belgium in the middle of winter.   

Scandinavians Built the Modern Maritime Industry

The Danish conglomerate AP Moller Maersk dominates sectors of shipping ranging from the offshore oil industry to massive container ships. This portfolio includes some American-crewed vessels under its subsidiary Maersk Lines Limited.  Kongsberg, based in Norway, builds training simulators for aspiring ship’s masters and harbor pilots. Norway’s Bergen Marine has built ship’s diesel engines since World War Two, decades before American shipbuilders transitioned from steam to diesel propulsion. Swedish company GAC, a ship husbandry firm, negotiates with beady-eyed port officials around the world on behalf of ship-owners. Germany’s Fassmer builds modern enclosed lifeboats: SS El Faro, an American steamship lost in 2015, did not have this lifesaving equipment. The International Maritime Organization, which has in essence propagated maritime safety regulations since 1913, is based in London. Not quite Scandinavia, but near the North Sea.

Two hours by train from Vienna

The main reason I chose to take R&R in Vienna, Austria is its proximity to its Central European neighbors. That it's a kandlocked nation, Danube river notwithstanding, was another draw. As such, there's a snowball's chance in Hades that I'd go there for work. I flew from the great maritime nation of Greece, via The Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, to the green fields of Austria. Now Vienna is an international city, not to just mean residents from across Europe, but from around the world. This distinguishment comes out late at evening, when it appears that the born citizens are at home, getting rested to conquer the world on the morrow. And the memory of the Hapsburg runs deep, with dedications of civic landmarks and learning to Franz Josef. The Hapsburgs are still around, though the British royalty get all the attention: 20 year old Ferdinand von Habsburg is better known as a Racecar driver.

I had the opportunity to visit Bratlislava in Slovakia and Brno in the Czech Republic.  Once subjected to communism, the old winding medieval streets are filled with life. I could only notice the preponderance of streetcars. Once shunned in North America, the quaint mode of transport has been a feature of Central European life since the Romantic age. Several new-builds have been exported to Washington,DC to restart streetcar service recently. The cathedrals in Bratislava and Brno are filled with choirs, organ music, and a congregation. On the street, the older men still wear hats. Named after Dvorak and Chopin, the eastbound trains to Prague pass a dystopia border town. One stop further, and my eyes were fixed on the old city of Brno. At the post office in Brno, I took my first ride in a paternoster. It's really a fancier version of a man lift, but the German invention has been abandoned in Western Europe for safety reasons. Two years ago, I had bought a quick phrase book for Central Europe. It was kind of prophetic that I would have the opportunity to visit. When it was time to fly home to D.C., I was in awe of the lands that once consisted an empire. My pockets had Euros, and coins from Turkey,  Hungary, the Czech Republic, and Denmark, where I had a layover on my return trip. The European hopper flight on Air Berlin was nothing to write home about, but the Scandinavian-accommodating legroom on the long-haul SAS flight was much appreciated. Meal service was the best I've had on a plane. Coffee, tea and water were abundant and available on demand; I like to think the charge for soda was a health incentive. Anyhow, I got my kroner's worth from the flight lounge in Copenhagen.

Someday, I will take the grand tour of Europe- London, Paris and Rome. But those pint-size cities of Central Europe have touched my heart.

Only 50 years til retirement?

A firend, then 14, said that you're old at 17, not 16. I sure feel different than I did last year at this time. Nevertheless, I received a great outpour of encouragement on Facebook. Everyone knew the date.
4/17. Atticus Sawatzki's birthday. My parents did, too. My mom had something to say: "And me? I was the one who did work that day."

I didn't make a big deal about this birthday. I don't know why; it could possibly be due to entitlement fatigue. At age 13 I was able to put my life on the internet. At age 14, I was allowed by law to work, at 15, get a joint card account, sit in an airplane exit row and be a lifeguard (by US standards). At 16, a library of congress card, a motor vehicle learner's licence and most adult benefits. Some of these benefits are leagues deep in the law. Why'd I want to start riding a bike helmetless? Or ride in the back of a speeding truck, unsecured?

But about the anticlimax- it's because it's on a Saturday! I don't have to worry about bruised arms until Monday.

Thank you, Tom and Kathy, too.

On the Great Falls, Part 2

The sophomore's rafting trip happened today. I went last year, but even without asking I knew what they did.

They got on the yellow school bus and watched as the neighborhood went by while I was counting significant figures in Chemistry.

I then had an ethics test. They were passing the houses of the robber barons on Georgetown Pike. During a math class of running full mind to understand synthetic division of polynominals, they pumped up rafts.

During the free period, they ate pitas and some had been convinced that this could be their last meal.

After putting "The things they carried" back in my bag for a while and pulling out "MacBeth" for English class, they lugged the rafts over their heads down the steep ravine to the water, and then were briefed on safety and designated captains on how to steer a ship

During second lunch period, munching on mystery meet, they learned to trust their classmates and build bonds as they navigateddown the river and treated each other with dignity, for rowers have to row in the same direction to go somewhere.

While translating in an embattled manner "Le Medecin Malgre Lui" for French Class, they fought currents and weighted lifejackets as they swam upstream, the best swimmers not doing a good job on distance.

While building chords in music theory, they broke bonds with the normal force of the earth as they all (or most of them) jumped off a cliff

While arguing that the war in Iraq was not one for oil, they slipped their wet outergarments into a plastic bag and put on polyester fleeces and polymer-lasced t-shirts and slippers and sped back to school

During orchestra, they pulled out mp3 players for the last part of the journey.

During the soccer game, they were there, and acknowledged, yeah, I'm tired.

Some things don't change year to year.

Swamp and Bridge- Wilson Bridge Bike Lanes

After coming back from the pool yesterday, I loaded my bike onto an express bus down to the Wilson Bridge, Maryland side. It was on the news that the new bike lanes were open on the new 12 lane span. So I get off at "Wilson Bridge" stop, wiht the bike, and head parallel to the Beltway by going down the walkway at Oxon Hill Farm- the one that leads to the visitor center and barns- I ask the rangers where to find the path. They say around the fence- I try the first roa. It lead about 300 feet to a shed. I then go down the paved road that went to the water. An idyllic marshland southern farm. The road turned to dirt, and to rut marks. It ended at a pile of Jersey barriers. Promising, but no lead after a minute in a brush. I then tried down another clearing. A wobble in the mud made both my shoes get wet. An organized grove of trees grown wild. A line of vines. Sight of the bridge- but there was a fence- and it wasn't the correct freeway. Sweating and overwhelmed with mosquitoes from the swamp, I pushed back after seeing a few decayed animals-large ones, and got back to the road- a great relief for a person who thought he'd need the state trooper to pick him up (the cell phone made me feel secure). So I get to the trail, which was the one that the rangers were probably talking about. I head up a while, and pull over to a subdivision at the first chance. Going up the road with the most traffic, I find a folded dollar, and came out where I had gotten off the bus. determined, and only having lost an hour, head back to the bridge. from an outcrop I tried to spot the bike trail. Two abutments far off was what I identified as the access point. I coast down the road in National Harbor, and end up on the shoulder of the bridge- I remembered, 3 12' lanes and a wide shoulder. I maneuver across an exit ramp and onto the safe side of the guardrail. When I reached the trail overpass, I pulled my bike 6 feet up, and myself as well. That is when I hurt my thumb. But I came out unharmed. I scouted on the other side of the overpass, and found out that the trail came from the National Harbor riverline area. I reached the foundation of the bridge, and there was an inspirational sign about this tristate project (MD_DC- over water_VA) I pulled out my camera for a shot- no memory card. But At least I found how to get there! It was a great view, great experience as I made my way to Washington St (VA 400), the end of the trail. A glass sound barrier made the final half mile very quaint as I passed above the cemetery. And I made it. My week's journey. I'm going to take Little Brother sometime- but I'll spare him from the swamp part of the trip.

FIlm Day

It totally sounds reminiscent of the classic blog post of the $500 in coins going to the bank, in my younger and more vulnerable years, but I had to relive the past. So when Walgreen's came out with the awesome offer of 10 cents per print, digital or old-timer film. Well, since it got so expen$ive in recent times ($6.95 and such), a lot of rolls of film, dating back as much as 5 or 6 years, got stacked up on the shelf. Eventually, we would get them printed. Now the chance had come. At 10 am, we sent over 13 rolls of film. With one hour processing at the rate opf $2.40 a roll, this job was done quickly, and with excellent prints, considering the age of the film, we sent another 20...this afternoon, another 11. In all, 44 rolls, adding up to the grand sum of $105.60. Blue folders filling two large bags...It'll take a long time to admire those last generation of film prints. That's just the price of procrastination in photography.

Link from JMAG

ipolomac43's Christmas video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DzuC3E5teTY&feature=channel_page

One Day to Go...

I nearly forgot to tell you all about the cruelly funny thing that happened to me Friday afternoon. You see, I had orchestra at 3:00pm. Due to our new schedules, we usually end quite early before the 4:30pm (note-it used to be 4:40pm) shuttle leaves. So I go down at 4pm with the I attend some business about the campaign, you know, and I pick up my heavy backpack as well as my AP-edition (what a selling point!) Western Civ. book, and miss the E2. I head to 12th street and board the Brookland-bound 80. Once we go through Downtown Brookland, and pass an 80 in the other direction, I realize, Duh! I left my violin at school. My mother warned me about this, if I had an outlying book. And boy was she right. I try to use Michigan Avenue's hypotenuse action to catch up with that other 80, but it was no use. I continued alonmg Michigan for a while...I knew that turning up 14th would lead to the lower building, where the violin was, so I found it, and ran it. I saw somebody waiting at the E2 stop. I added speed, and defcided that up around the hill to the upper building, a thru sweep, and out through the parking lot would be swiftest. So I did so, grabbed the $2K apparatus, and got to the E2 stop. I waited. No bus. Physics teacher comes. I try to gather my scattered belongings in a way that made me presentable enough. The E2, it was running late. Then down comes the 4:30pm shuttle. I get on, and we head out with the first-time shuttle driver. It was an experience worth waiting for.
Sort of Higgins-esque?

Forgetting. That's not what you do for voting for Atticus Sawatzki on House Day. Perserverence. Passion. Patience. Traits that make a good leader. Vote Atticus, tommorow. Make the right choice for your future.

Calleva is not liable for anything that happens

"After being knocked in the head from behind, the perpetrator was dragged from the cloakroom at a fine Italian restaurant downtown, his belly full with a meal with a group of corrupt mafia congressmen. He was tucked into the trunk of the Ferrari by Guido and driven off to Great Falls, not more than a mile from where Mario, the master of DC, had a nice estate with a vineyardette and horses. He threw the wench's body down, down the falls, and sped back to New York without."

About 7 people a year die in the Falls each year, with many more daring rescues. Most of the time these people don't die in the Falls, for it just doesn't happen, and anyway, the rescuers can find you, easy. Where the people die, though, is in Mather's Gorge, the steepest rapids in the eastern U.S.

At about 8:15, we boarded the 'watermelon bus', an old school bus painted green, and looked like one in Pennsylvania which watermelons are sold from. The clutch didn't burn up on Chillum Road, but I was a little nervous; the ancient engine roared and creaked along in heavy rush hour traffic across town to Sangamore and the one-lane bridge. After crossing the Potomac on the Legion, we were driven down Georgetown Pike, a nice, countrylike road that rolled around nice mansions with horses in the green yard. Like a wilderness bootcamp, we pumped up 7 rafts with a broken pump, a deamonish contest that emphasized tough love. For lunch, we had pitas and hummus. Yes, what if a pita was your last meal? We got briefed at a scenic overlook overlooking the great falls. "Wouldn't it be fun to raft down that?" Actually yes. It has been done intentionally. Soon, we were down the steep crevasse with a rusted pipe down the middle(?!) I was careful not to get wet; I don't want my clothes to get wet, but what. There has to be a situation in every adventure trip. This one was a suction hole in the floor of the raft that let in water. I was in the 'sweeper' boat, frankly, not the funnest of boats. All we do is tail and make sure everything is OK. Neither did we have a peer captain, responsible for steering the craft as the others obeyed commands, which is part of the teambuilding and mutual trust thing.
The first time my shoes really got wet was when we went down the first rapid. I was so worried about falling out and getting wet! But, the puddle on the floor grew. As we came around a bend, it was preplanned madness; ship hopping and mutiny! Again, as the sweeper boat, we came in late, so we had some forced fun- Captain Taylor pushes us into the water So what with it, I thought, I was already so wet. The class III lifevest, with the headrest kept us afloat, but made it practically impossible to reboard without assistance.

Soon, we had our first rescue mission. Captain Reed had grounded his boat on a protruding rock by being different. They didn't seem to understand the concept of friction, but whatever, they were 'scrubs' (rookies). Pulling over past the last set of dandy rapids, we were tested to swim across the rushing water to the Virginee side. Yes, with all clothes and shoes on, and, of course, lifevest. The current had a vector force of 40 degrees. Being instructed to swim at 45 degrees, we had barely moved upstream. Then came the endurance part: Swimming straight upstream for a length. Made it, so did everyone else. Then we just floated back downstream, after a bit of socializing. Was our team built yet? My watertight Swiss army watch said it was 1:45pm, a little time left. It was cliffjumping time. Sometimes, I dislike the feeling of freefall. So anything over five or six feet, it's a challenge, and that was the theme of the day. Peer pressure made me do it, and that was the theme of the day. I analyzed the decent; just as long as there were nop protrusions, I would be alright. Luckily, I didn't think twice before taking the soothing plunge.

The lifevest and all took the rushing wind out of the equation, and it was enjoyable. But I wasn't alright, I was informed; I had fallen within one foot of the rock surface, and it was 'fortunate' that I didn't hit anything on the fall. When asked about this, I was like :"Oh dear" "Oh dear on your life?" Now it was some time for Physics in Motion. How would I have been damaged if I would have hit the tiny, rounded outcrop? Not time for this. We were all inadvertently shivering. We continued on the final stretch, dumped out the boat, and carried it over, and across the canal. Th watermelon bus was there, and I got out of the soaking shirt and shoes. The ride home was surely forgettable. It was 3:30 when we arrived back at school. I threw on my subway pants, and got an E2 home to shower- I was itching a little. Was my team built? I'm not sure, but for others, they were built, probably. But it was never a terrifying, death-defying experience. We can't all die young.

I took a nice sip of Potomac water from the tap before writing this. Cool to the taste. No wonder about the shivering.

I hope you're feeling better, A.J.! (He had a carrot mishap)

Lil' Update

Now, last Saturday, I recall again, the twine-transmission fix had no effect on the car;s performance getting home, as Daddy and I followed in the Ford Edge rental car from Hertz. On Monday, Daddy took it to the shop. It was ready on Wednesday- $5 clamp part, $78 in labor, plus a quick brake pad fix (labor as prior). If the Northern Virginians had not ventured under the car, we could have been charged hundreds of dollars frivolous, said Daddy.
On Internet Poker (Facebook and MySpace combined), I reached 50,000 chips today, which should put me in the five-star Shark ranking, up from the four-star Big Dawg.
I got my first 'motivational work award' at our last day of summer work- Leadership award- I guess it goes on resumes hitherfore.

Mo Canada

This morning, I woke up at the luxurious 8:20am, and heard about the incident on the Bay Bridge. Long backups as one span is closed due to a truck that went over the edge. Nevertheless, life goes on here, a bike ride, and reading the recommended book. Now I talk about the last week;

Day 1, continued
The border crossing into Canada was easy, passing over the 1000 Island bridge into Ontario. Soon, we entered Ottawa. Because all the hotels were full in the City, from the suburbs into downtown, we crossed the river into the francophone Quebec, in Hull, and stayed at the Holiday Inn there.

Day 2
The car was in the underground garage, next to the laundry room hot air outlet, resulting in a buch of Canadian linen lint on the car. Traveling northeastwards, we (Kids eat free at the Holiday Inn, but not everyone) went to Tim Horton's- a Canadian favorite- comparable closest to Dunkin' Donuts in the USA. By lunchtime, we had arrived in the metropolis of Downtown Montreal, and had a chinese lunch, after skipping Mommy and Daddy's formerly favourite place, now under new control. After the scrambled lunch, we went to la vielle-ville and took nice pictures, before heading further Northeast, after stopping at another Tim Horton's. On an Autoroute in the northeastern suburbs, while the coffee was still hot, smoke was flaming out of the engine. This was disaster that was bound to happen (you see, we're going to get a new transport when this one dies, and it's high, high mileage). I grabbed my bag of valuables that I had placed strategically in the event that it happeed now. We pulled over on the shoulder and watched. We waited half an hour for the engine to cool a little. But, a tow trick shark came along, and its moneygreedyness was evident. The car, which had cooled down to movable levels. Daddy put 7 pints of water in the radiator, and the car started. He prayed as we moved the wounded car to the next exit, and into a residential neighborhood.

Canada, French Canada, and Beyond

As you may have guessed, I haven't stayed at a Raddison* in the past week. Yes, no internet access, or even computer access for 7 days. (*or for that matter, any out-of-lala-land guest friendly hotel, such as HI express). Now let me get reorientated with the mouse, the keyboard, and I'll give a synopsis of the trip to the best of my recollection.

Day 1- Saturday
Little Brother made sure to set the alarm clock on his cell phone to 3:30am, and the parents' bedroom clock to 4am. When I was half-awake and incapable of dozing back to sleep at 4:30am, the thunderstorm which Little Brother forgot to tell me about came with wind and rain, but it soon went away; we all reluctantly moved the bags to the car, and drove off at 6:14 am, a little later than LB kid wanted, but still a little dark. Passing through the nitty-gritty Shaw neighborhood, we saw ladies dressed in swimsuit-like short shorts (after a hard night shift on the rounds), but they just didn't look like they were headed to the YWCA. By 7am we entered Baltimore at sunrise. Normal workers and businesspeople were fiddling around outside the convention center. Enter I-83, and we sped north past Harrisburg and thru to Wilkes-Barre (PA), where we made our first fuel stop at 10:45am. A little sidetrack off the interstate was necessitated by roadwork. Quoting CAD, "It was good". The first destination point was Cornell University, where we just 'walked around' the sprawling campus. Lunch at the Ithaca Mall, a gleaming, shiny place, compared to other malls. After eating our fill, I noticed green liquid leaking from the underside of the car. For certain, this was a radiator problem. Under the hood, the fluid was a bit low, so Daddy filled the reservoir with a pint of water. Driving on. We crossed the US-Canada border, on I-81, at 6:40pm.

TBC

Where's the Blogger?

Appetizer-
I snoozed until 8am, as we were going to go to the 9am mass this Sunday. After that, it was about 11:15am. Time to shop for 'stuff'. Tysons was too crowded- a diversion to Leesburg's strip malls, were we bought a bike, pillows, toaster, etc. How American. And what a view! From the Dulles Greenway, you can see planes land- large ones, larger than those at National Airport, and the mystery of which country the plane came from. Flight to National only come from the States or Canada, in general.

The Show-
I was at a John Williams (the movie soundtrack composer) concert at the Kennedy Center last night. It was part of the Marine Band 210th anniversary event. It was FREE admission- I actually did not know that I was going until Sunday morning; otherwise, I would have given a FYI in-blog notice. Awesome show, included some clips of Star Wars, ET, Harry Potter, and JAWS. I would have snapped a photo of the event if it was not prohibited- not only by the House, but by the Department of Defense. I don't remember seeing many illicit cameras out, either.

Monday-
Not much to talk about, got a group raise, but no more lunch hour pay. In all, we lose net $1.35, including travel fare (working only 3 hours means that we can get a blanket transfer that is still valid after work), but gain a precious hour of lunchtime. I still treasure that moment, grabbing a packaged meal to go, swiftly getting on the 32, and being home in 25 short minutes. Then there was the forgettable bike trip loop between the bridges (I-66 and Arlington Memorial), and the Walgreen's back-to-school-sale fiasco, and the pool.

Day 4

Today, I was again put out, like a dog, to do jogging. This repetitive routine consists of a few, fairly easy steps. 1. Access Pennsylvania avenue, and jog westbound. 2. Scurry down cloverleaf ramp to sea-level, and jog along waterfront path to Lincoln Memorial steps. 3. Up and down the 40-something steps, 12 times. 4. Return on path to Kennedy Center, and follow gentler path northbound to home. Took and hour. At home, I ate breakfast, languished, took a shower, and went out to buy household stuff- stereotypically called "women's work."

Had lunch, headed out to the Ortho-man for picking up the retainer, as well as adjustments to the lower jaw's teeth's braces. The nurse explained the retainer. Wear it always, except when eating. It costs $235 to replace. What? Three years ago, during my first round of braces, it was $150. Then the nurse fitted the tight-fitting retainer into place. Then the big dog came in, and tightened the wire on the remaining set of braces. Then he lowered the mirror, and I saw. The retainer was one of the invisible types. He gave instruction on how to remove and replace the retainer. Yes. I did. But the thing is- the retainer resembles invisalign. So was it invisalign used as an orphan drug? Maybe. After all, he is one of the most proliferate seller of invisalign. Anyway, these invisible retainers are much cooler than the wire-and-mold type. Now everyone will think I have a lith (onomatopoeia for lisp) . I say, let's start a Facebook support group. Early this evening, I was put out on a LONG walk, up to U+14, and back. More on than midcity adventure later.
g'night, y'all, is 'bout time we's o't t' bed.

Ortho update: It's not really the tightening that gives me pain, but rather more the retainer.

Happy Fruit

I received my second crate of fruit from Friends of the (South and Central) Americas. This time, unlike the civilized supermarket 5-pound box of Clementines I received in December, this big box of navel oranges was not cuddly. Somehow I dashed out, like last time I received a crate, picked it up quickly and got on the first shuttle. Well, this big box of 25 oranges rushed lactic acid into my forearms (aka soreness) in a few seconds, because there were only tiny finger-holes on the longer side of the box. That was not too much. Metro Center was about a cup of lactic acid, but from Foggy Bottom to home, this was a gallon. The box in my arms made my heavy backpack literally feel like a paper towel! So I got home, without losing an orange on the street, and the weight of my backpack came back to me after 5 extra minutes for the walk from station to home.
Be grateful for Clementines.

Sounds sort of like the $500 in coins ordeal from last summer?