The Year of Yes

If I look over the past year, I could tell you that I've broaded my horizons. Not so much through international work travel, since that was already happening, but through journeys undertaken in the United States. What was the reason for doing it now? There was the fear of turning 30 and entering middle age (by some peoples' definition). It felt like the right time to complete items off the bucket list. There is also the fact that the quality of travel and accomodation services are returning to pre-COVID norms; more hospitality, and less travail. Supplementing my actual vacation time, this year I also received weeklong interludes of basket leave - or administrative leave- while awaiting training classes and travel to and from the 5 ships I have spent time onboard this year. In April, I submitted my package for a Chief Engineer's License, issued by the US Coast Guard in Baltimore. In May, I hiked the first 100 miles of the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal in Maryland, with an interesting 5-day Turbo Activation of a reserve ship in-between the two hiking trips. In June, I learned how to dig holes with an excavator. I was surprised the construction equipment company rented it to me without proof of training. In July, I visited Tijuana, as my ship was in San Diego. In August, I drove an electric car long-distance to see the giant rubber duck in Crisfield, MD. This is where I boarded the ferry to Tangier Island, a historic community in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay. In November, I attended a family Thanksgiving in Seattle. This was the first large reunion since 2019. And I am writing this blog post from Amtrak's southbound Crescent Train, an overnight trip from Washington, DC to New Orleans.

On Decommissioning a Suitcase

The suitcase has developed a terminal flaw. A wheel missing or a threadbare coat. It is now time to decommission the suitcase, and prepare it for new life as a storage box. Remove the airline luggage tags and stickers. The ones with your three-letter destination and the bright orange ones shouting"Priority". Toss the paper baggage tags- they rarely last more than one journey. Save the plastic baggage tags for your next suitcase- make sure the contact information is up-to-date. Take off the custom boonoggles that identify your bag from a hundred others on the airport carousel, including the ironic "remove before flight" lanyard. There will certainly be writing pens and change in the outside pockets. Save these for later. Check for cash and cards in the inside pockets. They have a propensity to get lost in there. Don't forget Saint Christopher's memento. Make sure he keeps travelling with you in future years.

Boston and the Sea

I recently made a trip to Boston. While I could’ve spent a week or more visiting the usual tourist sites, I was out to answer a question: why seafaring? Why didn’t the maritime culture dissipate in the Bay State like it did in other upwardly-mobile, increasingly-educated locales? For this adventure, the MBTA’s Regional Rail system, and occasionally Boston’s subway (The “T”) connected me to various points in the Boston area. My first destination took me 30 miles inland from Boston’s North Station. I travelled up to Lowell from North Station in order to visit Jack Kerouac’s gravesite. As I was carrying my suitcase and backpack, I didn’t want to roll a mile to the cemetery. Instead, I settled for the park named in the author’s honor. Although new investment is freshening the city’s facades, Lowell spent decades a tired factory city, and the buildings showed this experience. Perhaps even then, Jack Kerouac found more opportunity on the road, and at sea as a merchant mariner. Quincy was my next destination, just south of Boston. Here was the home of museum ship USS Salem (CA-139). A heavy cruiser, the ship was built at Quincy’s Fore River Shipyard at the end of WWII, sailing just a decade in active service. Mariners, both active and retired, serve as volunteers doing the important work of chipping and painting; as well as higher-skilled tasks such as maintaining the ship’s electrical system. A ferry, one of many running frequently in Massachusetts Bay, would take me back to downtown Boston. My next day started in Boston Common. As I was crossing a footbridge, I noticed a plaque memorializing a young man who died in Vietnam; he had worked the lagoon’s swan boats as a high school student. I was impressed that this busy, world-class city, could take a moment to remember one of its working-class youth. The John F. Kennedy Presidential Library, the Commonwealth Museum, and a University of Massachusetts campus are located on a peninsula known as Columbia Point. The state archives was dedicated by Michael Dukakis, who took credit for the “Massachusetts Miracle”. I am too young to remember a time prior to New England’s economic pivot from small-scale manufacturing to education and healthcare. Perhaps this was another piece of my puzzle: In the last half of the 20th century, a sole breadwinner could live an upper-middle class lifestyle anywhere in the United States with union-propelled American seafaring wages; and relatively isolated from local economic conditions. Nearby is South Boston, or Southie, traditionally Irish-American working-class community whose cold-water beach is known as the “Irish Riviera”. While bar-hopping college-educated professionals now blend into the Southie environment, the area used to be synonymous with trouble. Despite the environment, strong family ties persisted, and educational attainment was encouraged. There was a strong draw to the Massachusetts Maritime Academy (some 50 miles south), and thence to sea. Legend has it that upwardly mobile “Southies” made their home in shoreline suburbs south of Boston. But this answer isn’t quite straightforward, as I learned on the train to Scituate. This line was abandoned for 50 years, and when service was restored against local opposition in 2007, ridership fell short of MBTA expectations. These residents were neither trust funders nor the 9-to-5 commuter crowd. Who were they? Retirees, perhaps; but one could look up to banners on the lampposts, bearing a compass rose and geographic coordinates. These small towns purposefully continued to orient themselves towards the sea. I rented a car for my last day in Massachusetts, driving by Plymouth Rock and Buzzard’s Bay, home to the Massachusetts Maritime Academy. Rick Gurnon, a previous President of the Academy, had spearheaded a transformation of the physical campus, adding green energy education (including a windmill) and a police training program (Emergency Management) to the maritime institution. The student body remained rooted; in the parking lot were pickup trucks and modest sedans. Approaching New Bedford in the morning, I was stopped at a drawbridge, but unlike my Virginia usual, I wasn’t upset with this affair. Instead, I observed that the town still has a good waterfront industry, with finishing boats and ice houses. I arrived at my destination, the New Bedford Whaling Museum. New exhibits are added regularly, but the mainstay is the half-size replica ship Lagoda, built in 1916 at the end of the whaling era. By this time, foreign crews were working these vessels, to include the Portuguese. Towards the end of the 19th century, whaleship owners diversified the local economy, building on the industrial base of whale oil refining and harpoon making. Whale tails can be seen on shop logos, harkening back to the town’s adventuresome days of sail. The race was on. I had a dinner invitation in Boston, and it was noon. On the drive back, I would settle for seeing the US Naval War College, in Newport, RI, from afar. I went by Roger Williams University, Rhode Island’s sole law school, and one of the nation’s premier Admiralty Law programs. In Providence, I stopped by Marvin’s Pizzeria for a good slice. The Narragansett Brewery and Gift Shop is located at India Point Park, a former ship anchorage. One thing you will not find is the traditional lager that serves as the beginning to many New England stories. In good time, I returned the rental car to Motor Mart, a 1920’s-built garage at the edge of downtown. All bags packed, I took the subway to Cambridge, and found that “two girls were waiting for me” at our restaurant. I knew them from the US Merchant Marine Academy.

State Capitals and Railroads: A Historical Symbiosis

Where’s your state capital? If on the East Coast, look for the train station. Railroads and majestic state capitals were built in tandem. As reliable streetcars were not available until the 1890’s, state capitals had to be located near downtown hotel and restaurant districts, and to mainline railroads reaching across their respective states.   

Washington, DC’s Union Station was built in 1906 six blocks north from the US Capitol. Most of DC’s municipal offices are located six blocks west in Judiciary Square. Simultaneous projects included a tunnel for trains to pass underneath- instead of across- Capitol Hill, a streetcar terminal for service to the old downtown, and construction of the restricted-access US Senate subway.

Legislators and staff in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania and Richmond, Virginia also walk six blocks to their respective state capitals. 

Even though all parts of the state can be reached in a day’s ride on horseback, Providence, Rhode Island’s train station is located at the back door of the state capital.

The capital in Trenton, New Jersey is a half-mile from the train station, which serves high-speed electric trains between Washington, DC and New York City via Philadelphia.

Although the station is located on the “wrong” side of the navigable Hudson River, train service operates frequently on the Empire Corridor between Buffalo; Albany, New York; and New York City.

The very historic state house in Annapolis, Maryland, dating to 1772, used to be located at the terminal of a rapid commuter rail line to much-larger Baltimore; but was stranded after the railroad was abandoned in the 1950s. Light rail service was restored over a portion of the corridor in 1992, but ends some 15 miles from Annapolis.

Then-Senator Joe Biden commuted from Wilmington, Delaware to the US Capitol by Amtrak; but passenger trains have not served his peninsular state capital of Dover, Delaware in decades.

Augusta, Maine sadly lost their train service, which used to run in front of the state house promenade. A similar fate befell Concord, New Hampshire, where buses have replaced trains since 1967. Nevertheless, there’s always talk of restoring commuter rail service to Boston.

Montpellier, Vermont still has Amtrak service; although the hilly topography put the station a mile from town.

Springfield, Massachusetts and Hartford, Connecticut are served by Amtrak Northeast Corridor’s “Inland Route”, as well as respective state commuter rails.

Although few trains operate here today, Raleigh, North Carolina’s capital is also within walking distance of the rail line.

West Virginia is a young state, born during the Civil War. Three passenger trains a week serve Charleston, West Virginia on Amtrak’s sleepy and mountainous Cardinal Line between Chicago and Washington, DC.

Fruits of Vatican II

A Roman Catholic priest in a small Greek parish stood at the altar. His colorful vestment read “Jubilee 2000”.  What a figurative flash to the past! Folk mass, felt banners and banal vestments represented the short-lived embracing of faddish cultural trends. This was part of an unwritten zeitgeist summed up as the “Spirit of Vatican II”, or “change for change’s sake”, which claimed dozens of priceless high altars in its wake. 

During this era, say from the 1970’s to the 1990’s, vocations to the priesthood or sisterhood plummeted. From a practical perspective, young people taking vocations become tied to the institution they served. They need a sense of stability, whether the vocation is in the Church or the Military. I saw this in friends who resigned from NROTC during the transformational tenure of Navy Secretary Ray Mabus. Seminary attendance had stabilized under Pope Benedict XVI, who pontificated on subjects as mundane as clapping at mass, calling the specter “religious titillation”. Young revolutionaries today work outside the Church, and the seminaries attract a more philosophically and spiritually mature candidate.

The Vatican has long been a powerbroker among the royalty of Europe, and a temporary retreat in the late 19^th century was an aberration to norms. The First Vatican Council (1870-1871) can be seen as an ecclesiastical retreat from the world at a time when Italy and Germany had just been unified. This council reinforced the authority of the Pope Pius IX, urging the faithful to look to him as an empirical bedrock of stability in a changing Europe. Piety and transcendentalism, Archangels and Demons, dominated Catholic spiritual life.  This era gave birth to parish churches with astonishing high altars and stained-glass windows; many of which in America can be seen around large-city downtowns today.

 The Church did not wait until the Second Vatican Council in the 1960’s to reengage the world. Instead, it was drawn back into contemporary affairs not long after it had retreated:

Pope Leo XIII expressing concern about the dignity of the working man and his family in the age of industrialization;

Pope Pius X ensuring charitable assistance to American immigrants arriving from Southern Europe;

Pope Benedict XV and Emperor Charles of Austria working to limit the devastation of the   First World War;

Pope Pius XII asserting Vatican authority over Mussolini’s fascist rule in Italy, on issues such as protection of Jews.

“Opening up the church” is a common catchphrase about Vatican II. Indeed, Italian clerics dominated the Papacy and other key Vatican offices. In the United States, Irish-Americans dominated the priesthood. To the chagrin of Southern European newcomers, these Irish clerics retained the mark of WASP oppression, preferring the Low Mass, and remaining reserved from parishioner’s daily lives.  Some describe the intellectual environment of the priesthood and Catholic scholarship as rigid and stultifying.

If anything, Vatican II gave a long-awaited green light empowering the faithful to use their talents to further their understanding. This in turn has refreshed philosophical debate within members of the Church, especially concerning the interface with political governance. As far as lay leadership is concerned, cracks in a hierarchical veneer emerged by the 1930’s. After receiving threats from the Ku Klux Klan, Father Charles Coughlin took to the radio with messages in favor of Christian social democracy, and against “the international money-changers in the temple”. Bishop Fulton Sheen also took to the radio, but worked from official Church teachings. Dorothy Day, a laywoman, started the Catholic Worker Movement. She printed a newspaper, advocated for labor rights, and provided relief for the poor. The internet today provides a platform for Catholic-focused websites such as EWTN, Church Militant, and One Peter Five.

The New Saint Basil’s Hymnal, printed in 1958 and still used in traditional parishes, excised “good old hymns” of the Victorian Era on the grounds that they contained lackluster theology and doctrine. In the same decade, Pope Pius XII removed redundancies from the Tridentine Missal. Recognizing that centuries of add-ons had complicated religious observance, the Church simplified rules on fasting and prayer routines in the 1950’s. 

 “Vatican II opened the church, and the people left”: Yes, the Catholic Church has attrition issues. But think of the many Christmas-and-Easter Catholics, who are peripherally attached to the Church. The decline of Mainline Protestantism serves as a cautionary story. For the Greatest Generation, attending mass on Sundays was a social obligation. When asked, many couldn’t elucidate on tenets of the faith, or on personal spiritual beliefs. Later generations did not feel a need to attend mass or even affiliate with the church. For an increasingly sophisticated and middle-class audience of Cultural Catholics, self-discovery is real learning, and pastors should guide with a fusion of approachablility and moral certitude is required: a “no judgement zone” policy has decimated the stature of once-solid institutions like the Episcopal Church; and too much “judgment day” talk- think the Mormon faith- deters wandering souls.

Importantly, Vatican II encouraged dialogue between neighbors, statesmen, and global citizens of different faiths. This is essential in an increasingly connected world, but was discouraged in a different time, lest the faithful be drawn to heresy. Father John Main, a Benedictine Monk, developed Christian meditations from his travels to Southeast Asia. Politically, social tensions have emerged in the Muslim world, especially in places like Indonesia, where limited ecological resources pit neighbor against neighbor. Today, snippets of Catholic teaching float around the halls of Congress, and into the courtroom; under the mantle of Natural Law. Catholicism, like Judaism, is not merely a religion, but also the basis of philosophical and moral codes. 

Living in the Selfie Society

Within just a few years, the smartphone and its incipient selfie stick have created a billion amateur photographers vying for the perfect shot. They will travel the world for the perfect picture to post on the Internet, on Instagram or Facebook. They seek special moments once found only in wild dreams.

They consist of generations (Millennials and Gen Z) who chooses to spend money on travel and technology, instead of squirreling away savings for down-payment on a house, a car, or retirement. They fly low-cost airlines and stay in Air BnBs. Instead of retail therapy, try travel therapy: Washington Dulles Airport advertises flights to London as a cure for the “Quarter Life Crisis”.

The opportunity for a commoner to travel far from home is a recent phenomenon. Even in the 1980’s, The Preppy Handbook quipped about “The Tour”, typically a young American’s first transoceanic sojourn, with de rigeur visits to London, Paris and Rome. These were carried out by privileged college students of means, while their middle-class co-eds were busy working for tuition money. Childhood stays in Europe and the Far East were reserved for children of diplomats and military “brats”, a dated term in the post 9-11, continuous-contingency world. Just a decade ago, my community paper, DC’s Northwest Current, would publish columns on residents who went to “interesting” destinations, often on government business. How have times changed.

In Amsterdam, locals lament touristic behaviors such as drunk and disorderly conduct, and interference at the farmer’s market. The small Dutch city hosted 20 million visitors last year. In the search for “authenticity”, to include Air BnB homeshares, it appears that inconvenience is imposed on locals and their residential neighborhoods. Washington, DC’s Metrorail lampooned “Escalefters”, people, usually tourists, who stand on the left side of the escalator, impeding the flow of rush-hour commuters. Despite the neighborly complaints, one must acknowledge that cities were built to handle the masses.

The ecological call to “tread lightly” in sensitive destinations is too often forgotten in the pursuit of personal glory. One article in the New York Times recalls the incredible amount of gear left on the climb to Mount Everest, and of the lines and congestion which detract from what ought to be a spiritual moment. More recklessly, vainglorious adventurers attempt the climb with insufficient preparation, and Sherpa guides feel pressure to head out in sub-optimal conditions.

One way to view the travel-selfie phenomenon is the concept of self-assertion in an economically uncertain era. The 1930’s had movies on the “silver screen” to provide an outlet of escapism. Today, “getting away” for a moment (from student debt or stultifying employment) requires little more than an airplane ticket.

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.

Short Trip on American Rail

Train 88, 6:15 am northbound departure from Norfolk

This morning, I scrambled to find winter clothes. I put on a long-forgotten jacket. Having spent the front half of the year straddling the Equator in Guam, I'd forgotten what "chilly" feels like. But here, straddling the North Carolina line, it's "Summer, Winter, Fall and Spring in one day", quipped a local acquaintance. It's marathon weather. Races in Norfolk and Washington, DC this weekend. Why drive? 

Park and ride at the Norfolk station. One track and platform, with a small and new waiting room. 200 feet from car to waiting train. Many empty seats now, but wait for Richmond, advised the conductor. The night is crisp, clear, dark, late like Autumn. I brought breakfast from home; having plenty, I gave away my orange juice.

One week ago, the National Weather Service recorded:
October 2, 2019, Norfolk Virginia: 93 F degrees near the oceanfront
October 3, 2019, Roanoke Virginia: 98 F degrees for a mountain cool

Crates of pumpkins appeared at the grocery and hardware store in balmy weather. It's that month: the prelude of the holidays season. Do 'they' keep pushing the holidays earlier, or had this been an endless summer? 

The train spent over an hour chugging through the rural woods of southern Virginia. In the City of Richmond, a brief change of scenery as the tracks runs in the median of Downtown Freeway. A few trains headed to Williamsburg serve the historic Richmond Main Street downtown station, but the city's main station is simple and suburban, serving all trains travelling north and south. Our train edges north to Randolph Macon college in Ashland. Isn't that swell? A college with an on-campus train station. The seats fill up.

The next four stops serve the southern suburbs of Washington, DC; the last of which is Alexandria, flanked by high-rises and the Metrorail line. Big city life as seen out the train window. Over the Potomac River, eager travelers muster their baggage, for arrival at Washington's Union Station occurs just a few minutes later. Stepping out of the coach, you hear the din of train movements, the hum of waiting commuter trains, station workers, the traffic over 'Hopscotch' bridge. You see gritty stone over a hundred years old, office buildings and luxury condos pressed against the tracks. The South, it seems, is now a distant memory. Now on the Northeast Corridor, Train 88 switches its diesel engine. for a high-speed electric locomotive.

Breaking Troupes

This is the insanity I saw during my very first visit to California:

Berkeley Radicals

I expected to meet the illiberal Left (Stalinists) at Berkeley’s BART Train platform. Instead, I proceeded without incident to take a selfie at UC Berkeley’s Free Speech gate, wearing F-16 jet shorts draped in the American flag. I realized that Milos Y. might actually be a provocateur.

Gender as fluid as the San Francisco Bay

Even UC Berkeley didn’t have “gender neutral” bathrooms. Around the area, there were Womens’ rooms, Mens’ rooms, and unremarkably unisex water closets. Exception is the deYoung museum, which has a “gender neutral” restroom, which is basically a co-ed facility like one would find in a European youth hostel.

Environmental Fascism

Foie  Gras and fur may be out in San Fran, but plastic bags can still be procured at ten cents’ tax. Highway tolls are few and far between, even the long Oakland Bay Bridge merely levied a $7 toll, single driver, during rush hour. Many streets in central SF are set up as one-way arterials for the purpose of moving vehicular traffic. In Washington, D.C., Mayor Bowser has “de-commuterized”
several streets, with traffic-calming measure, in booming mid-city neighborhoods.

Tech Bro Colonizers

They exist, they ride exclusive commuter buses, but they blend in with the urban fabric as well as other urban professionals. Hard to get a table at a ‘hip’ restaurant, though.

Mass transit is falling apart and everyone must ride Uber

BART’s 50-year old Transbay tubes are undergoing major renovation, practically ending subway service at 8pm. But the system, and the MUNI streetcars, earn their keep during the daytime hours, with frequent and fairly comprehensive service. With just 36 stations, the SF Bay Area’s  BART falls well short of counterpart Washington DC’s 90+ station Metrorail. Put on some walking shoes.

Oakland is a war zone

The city across the bay is working to find its groove. Street life leaves much to be desired, but increase in new residents will create a demand for shops and restaurants.

Palo Alto Snobs
The students at Stanford University’s suburban-style campus were quite friendly. Education still has meaning besides a means to a financially rewarding end.

Crippling taxation
As a visitor, yes San Francisco was expensive, but less so than a Western Europe’s destination city. New Yorkers tell me that their City is a great place to visit, but that living there is expensive. I conjure the same about San Francisco. Several restaurants and shops itemize a 5% levy to cover healthcare costs. I ate in more than I usually would on travel.

Last Flight to Hong Kong

It takes 8 hours to fly from the territory of Guam to the State of Hawaii; and 13 hours to the Mainland United States. If on Guam and interested in travel, xenophobia is a disadvantage; for the experiences of Japan, Taiwan and Korea are but 4 hours away by air.


Hong Kong, which I had not visited yet, caught my fancy, being in similar proximity to Guam. Since 1997, when the British lease on Victoria Island and surrounding areas ended, the former British colony has undergone Sinification. The area would be remolded into Beijing’s image. Hong Kong’s hybrid culture palpably faded as its newfound status as a “Special Administrative Region” wore on. Reunification is scheduled for the year 2047, but many residents feel the end of special status is near. Hong Kong’s fish mongers resented overbearing law enforcement; this was prelude to a summer of discontent, spurred by an extradition agreement with Mainland China. In travelling to Hong Kong, I sought to capture a glimpse of a time past.    


The window of opportunity was quickly closing, and I was in a fortuitous position to make a trip. I had concerns: being unable to procure a transit visa through Mainland China, Hong Kong International Airport was my only way to depart Hong Kong. Through Alfred P. Chester’s A Sailor’s Odyssey and other works, I read about the many American expatriates desperate to leave war-drummed Europe in 1940 and 1941 on the few passenger liners still sailing. Failing that, they abandoned their belongings and assets, riding across the Atlantic as supercargo onboard derelict freighters. I realized it was possible for history to repeat.


Despite the widescale weekend protests, as of August 1^st, the US State Department had not issued a travel advisory on Hong Kong. I did make sure to book a hotel away from Victoria Square, epicenter of the protest activity, namely at Harbourview near Hong Kong station. I purchased airline tickets and researched Hong Kong’s MRT subway system.  The flights landed and departed uneventfully.

The weekend after my scheduled trip, 10-11^th of August, tensions reached a fever pitch. On Facebook, I came across a photo taken in an MRT station. Laser sights pierced the smoke-filled cavern. “This is not a sci-fi movie. This is Hong Kong”, read the caption. Hong Kong’s international airport was shut down.

Fragile Paradise

“Remember the ‘90’s?”, a gas station sign on Guam opines. Those were Guam’s glory days, when the Japan economic boom fueled construction projects and tourism; and sailors from Ronald Reagan’s 600-ship US Navy spent their paychecks on trinkets and entertainment.

Light and stylish, suitable for a wide range of activities, tropical shirts are ubiquitous in Guam. Designs range from floral, prints, to abstract designs, and shirts bearing the legendary DC-3 propeller plane of the 1930s and 1940s.  I have not yet seen a vintage propeller plane fly over Guam’s Apra Harbor into Won Pat International airport; just modern jets bearing the names of United Airlines, FedEx, Cathay Pacific and Korean Air.

The end results of consumerism is quickly evident on a small island. Gas stations and a six-lane arterial, Marine Corps Drive, line the waterfront of Hagatna, Guam’s capital city. Even industrialized and militarized Norfolk, Virginia keeps gas stations on the inland side of Ocean View Avenue. British-owned Diego Garcia, an atoll in the Indian Ocean, sends its “retrograde” garbage to mainland Asia for disposal. In American Guam, household waste too often ends up dumped in priceless and scenic parks. Brochures advertise weekend trips to "unspoiled" islands like Saipan, Chuuk and Palau.

Telling of the harried times of today’s military, coffee shops line the approach road to Guam Naval Base. Locals treat the speed limit- never exceeding 35 miles per hour- as a speed limit. Sailors often regard those signs as mere road decoration, as they whip and zag to work or home. Though our local contractors live on island time, we’re busy; we’ve made Guam just like home.

Then we sing “Old Maui”, an old sailor song. We’re singing about going to a tropical island, when we’re on a tropical island? Nostalgia for Paradise Lost was true even in 1890’s, when French painter Paul Gauguin encountered the Pacific island of Tahiti. As described in “The Art Wolf”: "Papeete -the Tahitian capital- was not the tropical paradise that it could have been in former times, the exotic and mysterious town found by great travelers like the legendary Captain Cook".

Today, Gauguin’s artwork is described as imaginative, even exploitative. So is Tiki Culture- that mesh of Chinese food, lush ambiance, and tropical drinks that once swept America- and is enjoying a comeback in the States. Nevertheless, Tiki Culture can be found in well-appointed Guam hotels. When the co-workers vent frustrations about the job, I recommend: Get on your motorcycle, ride past the waterfront gas stations, and within 15 minutes, find your paradise.

Reference:

http://www.theartwolf.com/gauguin_tropics.htm

Notre Dame: Culture Worth Saving

“Britain is losing its culture”, cried no less than a few provocateurs. A necessarily open-ended statement, it leaves much to the individual imagination. I pondered this on the verge of Brexit- Britain leaving the European Union and going its own way, turning its collective psyche back to the 1970s, or earlier. Is it regret for relinquishing imperial units (miles, feet, pints and pounds), or the pre-decimal monetary units of shilling and pence? Is it the loss of pub culture that is being mourned? That’s a loaded theme: you could point to gentrification and rising rents, workaholism cutting into pub time, the prevalence of Continental wines, or abstemious immigrants moving into traditionally working class neighborhoods. Does one, rather, miss national solidarity and the stiff upper lip of surviving Nazi bombers during the Second World War?

During that trying time, Westminster and Saint Paul’s Cathedral stood as defiant symbols of national resolve. Even as surrounding central London was bombed flat, these national symbols had to be defended, at any cost. During air raids, Architecture students manned bucket brigades in the highest crevices of Saint Paul’s to preemptively extinguish incendiary flares dropped from the sky. One large bomb did drop into the Cathedral’s nave: miraculously, it was a dud.

This week in France, sorrow and resolve,  not apathy, came out of the conflagration at the 850-year old Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris. In a secularizing Europe, Notre Dame held firm as a national symbol. The heart of France, as described by some journalists, in a nation that has long celebrated a hard separation of Church and State. Dominique Venner, then a 78-year old historian and reactionary, took his own life at the altar of Notre Dame in 2013, in a protest against same-sex marriage and other cultural changes. Notre Dame was front-and-center in the 1944 liberation of Paris from Nazi occupation. Notre Dame was present, and suffered some damage, in the 1790’s French Revolution. The damage from this week’s fire is still being totalized, but it includes the central spire and several rose windows dating to the 13th century. In America, Notre Dame Cathedral features prominently in Western Heritage and History courses- especially in Catholic school. Paris, namely its most famous Cathedral, is a must-see on most every college graduate’s list.

End of Month Report

March marks my third month on Guam. I've now figured out what I like on this island: the swimming, the sunsets, the community-oriented local culture. I've rented a car during my stay, but I'm ready to try transit: the Navy has now started (or restarted?) a shuttle service between the piers and its hospital, located near the island's capital. It operates with precision, and on a schedule; compared to the "island time" casualness of the existing, barebones, local bus service.

Shoutout to the end of USNS Supply's 25th anniversary month. Commissioned in 1994 as "AOE 6", she was the lead ship of the last class of supply ships to sail with uniformed Navy sailors. She was ordered by the government during the Reagan administration, when funding for new Navy ships was ample. This class of ship was intended to replace the four original AOE 'fast combat support ships', whose propulsion plants were built during WWII for battleship use, and which were commissioned in the 1960s to support a nuclear navy. All later-built classes of supply ships (the T-AKE and T-AO ships) would sail with civilian mariners. USS Supply, as she was known at the time, transferred to Military Sealift Command's civilian mariners in 2001, and by 2005, all underway replenishment ships were operated by civilians.

Island Time

I’ve been to the American outpost of Guam before, in 2012 and 2016. Always by ship, never by airplane. Closer to Japan than the mainland USA, it’s where America’s day begins, on the oriental side of the International Date Line. To note, it’s 17-18 hours ahead of Los Angeles, and about a full day ahead of Hawaii. Those were brief visits in the past, but my current work assignment carries the distinction of being homeported in Guam. While I feel pressured by East Coast influences, to get back to mainland USA as soon as possible; the expat population couldn’t ask for a better paradise in Guam. There is enough tropical sunset for everyone, rich or poor. It’s endless summer; full length pants are only worn to church. So I’m digesting these opinions the same way I’ve analyzed expat life elsewhere, from Subic Bay in the Philippines, to Dubai and the Francophone nation of Djibouti. Hafa Asia, greetings.

Weekend Rates

It’s noon on a Friday. From my experience  in Washington, DC, tough time to catch a taxi. It’s mosque time. I hadn’t thought much  about the religion and nationality of cabbies in the Middle East. Indians must work alongside the Pakistanis? According to my Uber estimate, just about every driver is a devout Pakistani. I think about taking an establishment taxi. These cabbies are very creative with the established rates, though. Pick up at hotel? Add $3. Weekend rate? Yes. Drop off at a hotel? They’ll tack it on. They’ve gotten angry because of the two upstart cab companies that associate with Uber. They demand gratuities in advance.

So rather than test my luck, I throw a bone to old reliable Uber, take a ride in a new car, and thank the gent for the ride.

Flew the coop

With heat soaring across the Persian Gulf, tempers flaring at the “scheduled” end of a shipyard availability, it was good to fly home. My father warned me against working to the last minute; anyhow I had a hotel room and club dinner waiting for me in “real Dubai”. The shipyard and oilfield workers created Dubai’s wealth, but “real Dubai” is the shopping malls, hotels, and extravagant pastimes. How could I resist giving a last hour of wisdom as the engineering plant was being brought back to health? I made it to dinner. Mission complete.

My itinerary took me on Lufthansa via Germany. What appealed to me was the greenery that surrounded Europe after six months of seeing and breathing the desert. Whereas SAS (flown last year) was the youth hostel of transatlantic flights: cheap but with good people; Lufthansa is a good airline and the sum of parts added up to a great experience. Sooner than I anticipated, I was back in DC. Eight hours fly when watching movies and sipping tomato juice.

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.

When a Vacation Gets Busy

While I was at work, it was easy to say "I don't have enough time" to be worried about activism and protesting. Now on vacation, 'not having enough time' is my own problem, not one I could attribute to my boss or shortened days caused by time advances. At the same time, while at work I could shout as loud as I could off the gunwale of the ship, and no one would hear me. It was an eye-opening experience to trade a weak satellite connection for wifi and broadband; to use internet configured for me rather than one optimized for sending simple text emails. Yes, I did some of my recent blog posts through a satellite connection. I'd write ahead of time, and then wait for early morning to access blogger.com, when the absence of "higher priority" traffic allowed me a connection to the host website. I will be the first to tell you MSNBC clickbait, used as my ship's internet homepage, does not an informed citizen make.

When I was traveling for work, I sectioned attention to friends and family into a 20-minute phone call or a paragraph email, and a twice-weekly Facebook check. Otherwise, my afterhours were my own to plan and divvy. So when I got home at the beginning of the four-day Independence Day weekend, I was surprised by how much time went to 'family time'. A devotee to an art would tell his or her associated to "leave me alone". A dilettante like myself seeks to appease, placing others' desire for attention above attention to the craft.

For me, the 'staycation' does not work. I created, and am working through a punchlist of items that I couldn't readily complete overseas like tax adjustments, ordering books and videos, and making appointments, visiting Mr. Liedman, my coin dealer. Things I guess people do over lunch break, or late afternoon at work, for the lucky ones. So to get away, I take a 'real' vacation, like my week tramping around the old Austro-Hungarian empire of Central Europe (material for another blog post). I left the US on Inauguration Day (faster than a talking head celebrity), and arrived back after five months away. I was quickly reintroduced to American culture: upon arrival in the US, it appeared that half the border control agents took Friday afternoon off! This was only unusual to me since six full days of work a week is the norm on my ship, and seven days is normal too. Instead of "getting ready for the weekend" on Fridays, the anticipation was "getting ready for the overtime".

I feel like a have just a handgrip keeping me from obsolescence. Tinder, where women sort through virtual binders of men, and men do likewise, was the butt of jokes when I was in college just three years ago. Now I've read that online dating had replaced the 'bar scene' as a matchup forum. I landed at the airport alone in one's own city: In Washington, DC, the summer social calendar is light; and none more so than the week of July 4th. As the weeks away from the US turned to months, I needed to take the time reconnecting with friends. They said Mitt Romney was stuck in the 1950's; he missed the 1960's and ensuing cultural changes as a husband and a Mormon missionary. If I wanted to, I could become a virtual hermit on the ships, with a W2 wage statement and a portfolio ledger as my sole concerns in life. That is not the life for me.  To know that I will go out again, I vow to have all matters better organized for my next vacation!

Mid-Month Thoughts

I saw a story in the national news about a young woman who saved herself from doom as a lost motorist. Looking for a shortcut into the Grand Canyons, she followed her GPS into a large cattle ranch, and ran short of gasoline. Her Girl Scout skills got her out of this predicament, when a police helicopter spotted her stone sign. Reliance on technology without perspective- can be dangerous. 

Still going in and out of Dubai and am grateful to have gotten the important sites out of the way- the Burj Khalifah- the world’s tallest building. I had some questions, like why the global investors are supporting tremendous, speculative growth and construction in Dubai; changing a regional city into a global power. I found an answer: what is happening in Dubai is not unprecedented: New York and Chicago boomed a century ago, on the backs of immigrants.  I try to identify a lively American neighborhood- or Westerner town- in each of the big cities I spend time in. They have some of the comforts of familiarity and the fusion of two cultures. Something like the Chinatowns in American cities. Now Dubai is interesting to me because Western tastes, and expats, are so profuse throughout the city-state.

432 Park Avenue in New York City was recently completed with 104 residences. It’s remarkable since the condo building has the height of the World Trade Center, and the controversially bland exterior was apparently inspired by an art deco wastebasket. But, the views from inside are fantastic and the multimillion dollar condo units were bought up by the global elite, making the supertall building a financial success. The building has drawn social criticism for being the pinnacle of ostentatious wealth. Why this building among the hundred tallest skyscrapers in the world? In many cities the tallest buildings are office buildings. While these gaudy towers might be signs of corporate affluence and extravagance, a little bit of the wealth trickles down to support a white-collar middle class workforce, who fill the inner offices and cubicles. Even the most secluded of firms have secretaries. In other places, the tallest buildings are hotels, and size of these hotels require pricing at least some rooms for the upper-middle class masses. When the tallest buildings are luxury residences, it is hardly inspirational, demonstrating the extremes of inequality: the uber-wealthy owners and tenants who are waited on by low-income service sector workers. The middle class are kept outside the doors. In the ideal world, the most iconic buildings would be somewhat more egalitarian. 

Dubai, Today

When I got to Dubai, I thought I would be greeted by omniscient prayer calls from minarets, camel taxis, snake-tamers, pipists and belly dancers. This is not an Aladdin fantasy; indeed I had read stories of the Middle East from crewmembers onboard WWII Liberty Ships. In light of U-Boats roaming the North Sea, the Persian Gulf became the preferred route to bring supplies to the Soviet Union. And for decades after the war, the region was a quaint reminder of the past, with kings and the supremacy of religion; yet increasingly important on account of oil. 

Fast forward to the present day. The United Arab Emirates, of which Dubai is one, is a diversified economy, focusing on international trade. There were no snake charmers greeting me, although the gold souks are reminiscent of fabled Arabian opulence. The working class is Southeast Asia- Indians and Pakistanis- who drive the buses and make the food. Foreigners are welcome, and coming from around the world, they take middle-class jobs and practice their Westernized or Orientalized lifestyles. The local elite are not ashamed to mention that the world’s tallest building, Burj Khalifa, was designed by an American firm. If there was a country to describe America’s grim future in the minds of American nationalists, it might be the UAE. Transnational globalists do world trade and go sightseeing in Dubai; there is a strong Islamic influence; a religion shared by the nation’s elite and much of the immigrant working class. And furthermore, foreigners not only ‘take’ working-class jobs, but middle-class ones as well. This fact makes me very interested in how the UAE- and other Persian Gulf States- are able to maintain a good standard of living for their own people. In the US and Southern/Eastern Europe, one primary concern of nationalists is well-paying jobs for born citizens. Yet halfway around the world, there are nations, steeped in Islamic culture, which welcome foreigners, to allow set-asides for things like alcohol and western feminist thought.  

I am familiar with the respect given on military bases to morning colors and evening retreat. Regular business stops, and so does traffic. I was ready to give this regard to prayer call, but by observing the regulars in Dubai, strict observance of the prayer call was not required.  The best prayer call I heard was inside the Dubai Mall, and few heeded its warning, as the ‘globalists’ continued dining and shopping while observant locals made their way to the prayer room.