The infidel donkey

There may be a donkey involved in the coming discharging operation. Libyans can’t afford nice cars, cars that will actually start. They have to be pushed out over the ramp and since it’s Ramadan the stevedores are weak. They don’t want to push anything. Enter the donkey! The donkey is strong and can also eat during the daytime since it’s not a Muslim. Just hook up the donkey and over the ramp we go!

Aww shit, there was no donkey, infidel or otherwise. But one of the drivers was 12. So that was nice.

Ok, we have left Libya and my theory as for the awful-next-port-syndrome has grown stronger. Libya wasn’t that bad. All the stevedores were very young, only a few over 20, I think, and they were just all smiles. They took their time, yes, and there were plenty of breaks, plenty of running around throwing shoes at each other, sure. But the atmosphere was ok. The vessel that came in before us had about the same amount of cargo and the discharging took 27 hours for them. But for us, it only took about 10 hours.

We have gone north, passed thru Stretto di Messina, right were the Italian toe meets the Sicilian football, and berthed at Gioia Tauro. The port has an interesting wiki page indeed. There were discussions of going around Sicily to get here at first. That route goes right over an area called Adventure Bank, which is right next to Terrible Bank. It’s right there on the charts, look it up if you don’t believe me. Someone said someone had named that waypoint Handels as a joke. Some of the crew are signing off here, the captain and the 3rd officer. The captain is great. The man can’t finish a sentence without uttering the words “vicka jävla dårar vettuh!” at the end. The things he’s seen, the stories he tells, it’s just an endless amount of fun. And the third officer, why I can’t think of a better combination of charm, humor and bitterness. He claims to be a misanthrope, but I see right thru that shit. He just wants a big hug, now doesn’t he? They will both be missed. I hope the relieving officer and captain will prove to be equally bitter. How else am I expected to learn?

I think I’m gonna start introducing myself like Patrick Swayze does in Road House? There will be no first name of course. And no corny “hi” at the beginning. “The names Lewander”. Yeah. 

Then again, maybe not.

The Ramadan

Min förhoppning att få lite mer praktik på tanker grusades idag när jag fick mail från min gamla kompis på Ek-River. Jag är nu officiellt ett offer av ”det ekonomiska läget”. Men det var nära. Jag kan inget annat göra än hoppas att praktiken på Cinderella blir bra, bara jag slipper vara med i tv. Om jag stannar här till Bremerhaven så får jag 3,5 månader och behöver då bara 2 månader på färjeskrället, det borde jag palla. Dessutom får man vara närmare Stockholm, jävlar vad jag saknar min stad.

Jag råkade visst hissa Sudans flagga på väg in till Aqaba, Jordanien. De är jävligt lika förutom att det står ”Sudan” med tydliga, härliga bokstäver på ena kanten så att man inte ska kunna ta fel. Bilden i det förra inlägget ger en tydlig indikation på hur de ser på vikten av flaggor där. Men på väg in såg jag det där aset till flaggstång och insåg snabbt mitt misstag. Bara att lubba upp och byta. Jag råkade dessutom glömma att hissa flaggorna helt och hållet när vi skulle in till Suez. Flaggor är viktiga där med. Speciellt den gula, karantän-flaggan. Folk är livrädda för swine flu i den här delen av världen. Jag nös nere i lastrummet i Tartous och stuvarna började ta långa omvägar för att undvika mig. Inga fler flaggrelaterade missöden om jag får välja, men resan är inte slut än och jag verkar dessvärre ha talang. Suez var för övrigt odramatiskt. Vi gick som andra båt i konvojen med ett italienskt krigsfartyg framför. Lotsarna hade de grävt upp ur någon sarkofag någonstans. Den ena gubben, 114 år gammal skulle jag gissa, gick omkring på bryggan och skakade och bjöd på mintgodisar, ganska smarriga faktiskt. Han var jävligt mysig den gubben, jag gillade honom skarpt. Jag, matrosen och den andra däckseleven handstyrde hela vägen och varenda gång man kom till kurs och rapporterade, utbrast han”THANK YOU, SEEERRH!” och log från öra till öra. För sitt glada humör och proffessionelt utförda lotsarbete belönades han, som sig bör, med en limpa röda Marlboro. Han var så nöjd så. Nu är jag i Medelhavet.

Jag tror mig ha gjort en upptäckt. Innan vi kom till Port Sudan så vill jag minnas att någon sa att den hamnen var förjävlig. Men när vi stack därifrån så var alla ganska överens om att det gick rätt bra. Då seglade vi mot Aqaba, den absolut jävligaste hamnen i hela Mellanöstern. Det var ju faktiskt inte så kul där, men när vi stack därifrån så pratades det en del om Tartous och hur många gånger de slitit sitt hår i den jävla hålan. Nu är vi på väg mot Libyen där det är, enligt utsago, så jävligt, att man inte ens vill sticka ut näsan genom hyttdörren om man inte absolut måste. Ser ni den röda tråden här? Det är alltid nästa hamn som är jävligast. Jag gör mitt bästa för att hoppa på det här tåget för jag tycker det är jättekul. Nästa hamn heter Misurata, Libyen, helvetet på jorden. Jag trodde det var ett smeknamn första gången skepparn snackade om det stället, men icke, det heter så. Vi ligger till ankars utanför och väntar på kajplats som så många andra båtar här. Ramadan pågår nu, så stuverigubbarna är inte så där studsande rappa i benen alla gånger. Agenten har däremot gett klara besked:
”We don’t expect vessel complete to be replace will complete very soon. Hope the above picture is clear and you are to decide, if any progress we shall provide you”.

Vi tar lots om enkvartfjortondagar, insha’Allah.

The Sevnska

Det första jag gör är att stava överskriften fel. Ja, det bådar ju gott.

Kära vänner, jag tänker göra ett försök att skriva på svenska. Det kommer säkerligen stappla en aning ty jag har svårt att få flyt när jag använder modersmålet. Jag tenderar strula till det och använda ord som ”emellertid” stup i kvarten. Det är dock en bra idé att jobba lite i uppförsbacke ibland, lite intervallträning, if you will (fan.), om man vill växa som författare! (Jag sätter näsan i vädret, som sig bör, när jag skriver ordet ”författare”, var så säker!). Vi gör ett försök iallafall, och ni kan väl ha vänligheten att rapportera eventuella epilepsianfall ni får när ni gör er del av jobbet, läsningen.

Ett ganska besynnerligt skådespel spelar ut framför ögonen i Aqaba, Jordanien. Om Japans hamnarbete är en smekning för ögat så är Jordaniens en svullen böld i innerörat. Man blir lite yr och illamående, får en halv grad feber och skrubbsår på hakan.
I Japan; 50 gubbar kommer ombord, alla har en specifik uppgift som de blivit utbildade till. De har redan gått igenom lastplanen på det förberedande mötet innan, så alla vet vilka däck som är aktuella och hur det skall lossas. Tiden är knapp, de beräknar att jobbet skall ta 3 timmar och 50 minuter, så de jobbar hårt och effektivt tills dess att allt är klart. Det finns en förman, men han står bara där och glor. Eventuellt spänner han ögonen i någon som han inte tycker springer tillräckligt fort. De gör faktiskt det, springer alltså, och förmannen får knappast träningsvärk i ögonbrynen. Lossningen av 1000 bilar tar 3 timmar och 52 minuter och förmanen ber så hemskt mycket om ursäkt för dröjesmålet.
I Jordanien; 100 gubbar kommer ombord, skrikandes, gormandes och rökandes. En oförberedd förman, utan lastplan, med bristfälliga engelskakunskaper, får instruktioner av styrman på vad som skall göras. Han sprider detta till sina gubbar en och en eftersom det inte går att göra sig hörd över allt gormande. Operationen sätter igång och alla springer prompt åt varsit håll och börjar lossa surrningar. Jag och styrman springer runt och försöker hindra de från att lossa fel surrningar eftersom vi vet att de aldrig kommer sätta dit dem igen. Eller äsch, jag var nog inte till så stor hjälp där. Styrman fick göra det mesta springandet medans jag var sysselsatt med att samla ihop underkäken. Sen händer något ännu mer förskräckligt. De som skall köra iland bilarna börjar leta efter den bil de vill köra. Den som står längst fram, dvs den som går att köra ut, förefaller inte intressant. De sätter sig hellre i en bil längre bak, startar motorn, varvar ur ordentlignt och börjar tuta. Och när jag säger ”varvar ur” menar jag inte sånt där duttande som vi gör när vi startar bilen. Det är plattan i mattan, fulla flät. Och när jag säger ”tutar” menar jag inte sånt där duttandes som vi gör när vi tutar, de trycker in tutan och släpper inte förrän bilen framför flyttar på sig. Det står dessutom folk bredvid och vevar med armarna och gormar. 
Det blir således bilkö på rampen. Alla gormar, alla tutar, alla varvar motorn så ventilationsfläktarna hostar. Operationen beräknas ta 2,5 timme. Detta justeras först till 3,5 timme när de får klart för sig att det är 537 units som ska iland. Vidare justering halvvägs in i lossningen till 4,5 timme för att slutligen hamna på 5 timmar när bönestund är inräknad. Vi anpassar och beställer lots lagom till avgång.

Operationen tar 3,5 timme. Men lotsen är iallafall en kvart försenad.

Nu tänker ni ”Åh Gunnar, din eländige fjant, varför ska du vara så jävla dramatisk och överdriva hela tiden?” eller hur? Men i det här fallet är jag helt oskyldig. Endast fakta har presenterats. Aqabagulfen är dock otroligt vacker. Havet är turkost med höga dramatiska ökenberg på båda sidor. Om man är oförsiktig så kan man råka driva över gränsen ut på israeliskt vatten, Israel och Jordanien delar på bukten, varpå israeliska flottan ropar upp och ber en vänligt men bestämt att sluta upp med det. På vägen ut går vi förbi Sharm el-Sheikh, dykparadiset på Egyptens sydspets. Där finns koraller och grejer. Vi ska vidare upp genom Suez som av sjöman ofta kallas Marlborodiket, alla som kommer ombord måste mutas med cigaretter. Suez ska tydligen också vara ett skådespel.

Hur tyckte ni att det här gick? Tyckten i att flöt det bra eller svalma de ja?

The Pain don’t hurt!

The VHS player has broken down. No more crappy movies. No more Seagal. My theory as for the cause of the malfunction is this: the grease from Steven Seagals back-slick somehow excreted from the tape and slimed the magnetic reader thingy inside the VHS player. It’s perfectly plausible, the man’s head is a veritable petroleum refinery. Before the unfortunate fouling of the reader, we managed to watch the last Seagal movie in the collection, “The Glimmer Man”:
“We used to send him out in the jungle, right……First, there’d be calm. Then a glimmer……then you’d be dead.” 
The man has such range. 
Now we have to get used to the fact that there will be no more shitty old movies. We were planning to watch “Road House”, Patrick Swayze’s only movie as far as I’m concerned, to try to fill the void left by ol’ Steven. That will never happen now. It’s a great movie too, I love it when the sexy doctor offers him anesthetic before the stitches and he’s all like “naaah, pain don’t hurt!”. Solid!

The FLIR camera, Forward Looking Infra Red, was setup for the Gulf of Aden. It’s operated by a small joystick and there are friendly buttons to push to switch between the different modes. Apart from the standard black-and-white view there are 3 different “Predator”-modes. The thing is completely silent however, so the sound effects I had to do myself. There is also a small problem with the camera. It doesn’t work. You can see pirates on it, sure, but only if they come really close. So that kind of defeats the whole purpose slightly. Other than that, pirate watch is totally sweet. In the daytime I stand watch at the stern ramp in my underwear and work on my tan. At night I stand watch at the stern ramp in my underwear and work on my ideas for pirate counter measures. In theory, Molotov cocktails should work nicely.

After the gulf of Aden we passed through Babel Mandeb, “The Gate of Tears”, into the Red Sea. It felt very lord-of-the-ring-sy. I asked why it’s called the red sea but no one seems to know. There were theories about the African sand blowing in the wind making everything red, or the sunset being particularly red. Who knows? Our first stop was Port Sudan where I witnessed a more traditional ship loading method. Manpower. At least 100 men took part in the discharging of the vessel astern of us. White bags of stuff from a ship that looked like it already sunk twice, loaded onto trucks that looked like they’ve already been scrapped. It was 35 degrees in the sun today and 37 in the holds. How do you carry heavy bags for a whole day under those conditions? It gives perspective on hard work.

At the top of the red sea there’s a fork in the road. The right rabbit ear takes you into the gulf of Aqaba. We’re going there next to deliver some more pieces of shit. After that we’re taking the left rabbit ear that leads up to Suez. Now, I need a shower. I smell like a pile of cod.

The Seagal

I bought another hat. It appears I am the biggest whore for hats this world has ever known. And this particular hat exceeds the coolness of the last one by far. This one also incorporates a great deal of swag. Think Will.I.am meets Humphrey Bogart. This is what happens when you put me in a shopping mall in Singapore. I get too damn excited. My brand new Doc Martens slippers are also pretty neat. I have up and till now walked around in flip-flops onboard and the amount of flip and flop they emanate with each step is quite disturbing. I walked pass the Bosun cabin the other day, he always keeps his door open, and I heard him say “No matter if I can’t see…I know who’s coming! MNUUAAAHHAHAHAHA!” (He laughs exactly like the scary guy in “Thriller”). Now, in my new slippers, I have stealth, they won’t know what hit’em. 
There was also a variety of exotic food in an abundance of different restaurants in the mall. A golden opportunity for new culinary experiences, to try the local specialties, get a taste of the Asian cuisine. We ate at Burger King. It was the best burger I’ve ever had and my internal Whopper levels are now restored. I need that shit, man. 
But the most successful shopping that day has to be the DVD “Under Siege” with Steven Seagal. The first one, the one on the boat. Oh joyous day, heavenly bliss, ladies and gentlemen, that movie is so good it hurts to watch. And this time the Playmate does NOT get shot. All is well.

Singapore is an interesting place indeed. The law is strict. There is no spitting on the street, no littering, no pornography, and lots lots more for those who like a healthy dose of repression. Can you imagine that, eh? No porn. Not even the slightest under-boob. No matter where I looked in the streets I could not find one speck of graffiti or art made by real people. No homeless people either. I wonder where they put them. There is art in the streets though. In the picture you see what is supposed to be happy children having fun, jumping in the water. But the bronze effect makes it all too Han-Solo-frozen-in-carbonite-ish for my taste. There was also a statue of a big fat pidgin not far from there. It was totally clean unfortunately, not at all covered in bird shit, that would have been nice. 

We have now left Singapore, the last port of call in Asia, and are headed west towards the gulf of Aden. Oh yes, that is correct, that’s where the pirates hang out. Local fishermen say there is no fish in the sea anymore, the Japanese fishing vessels are too efficient, so they have been forced to find alternate ways to support their families. Recently there has been so many attacks on merchant vessels, many countries, including Sweden, have sent military force to the area. We do our part in the fight against poor, desperate, brown people. Feels good doesn’t it? 
But I guess that’s only one way to look at it. The attacks are well organized and they have plenty of firepower at their disposal. So to say they are simple fishermen might not be the whole truth. And since pirating has become such great business, many people are attracted to it. It’s all ‘bout the money, all ‘bout the dum-dum duh-ruh-ruh ruhm (I don’t think it’s funney either)
We will be going thru the gulf of Aden at full speed with the anti-pirate fire hoses rigged along the side of the ship. There will be three lookouts on watch at all times and an infrared camera rigged astern. We will most likely not be targeted since our speed is good and the freeboard is well over 20 meters. But you never know. After Aden we are calling at Port Sudan. Then Syria, then Libya, then Italy. 

The VHS section of the movie library keeps treating us with dignity and grace. We just saw “Point Break” with Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze. Awful, just awful. Before that it was “Executive decision” with Kurt Russel, a terrorist plane hijacking story. I wonder if Hollywood played any part in the inspiration of Al-Qaida’s planning department. There is some remarkable resemblance. Either way, Steven Seagal showed up in the beginning of that movie, totally unexpected. Naturally me and my fellow cadets were overjoyed, his mere presence taking the movie to whole new level. But the joy turned to despair ten minutes later when his character dies in an unfortunate Boing747-Stealth Bomber docking accident. My buddy Nils took it very hard. When the airlock depressurized and poor Steven was sucked out I could hear him moan “Nooooo!!!!”. I too was disappointed, you’d think old Seagal could fly considering the size of those shoulder pads. 

The Cult

The lack of updates lately is due to the fact that I’m mildly unhappy and homesick. I can’t write when I’m down, nothing is funny. I saw a foreman a few days ago with a completely round head. I’m not kidding, it was like a basketball. And I hardly even smiled. We were in Gouangzho, China, a real shithole if you ask me. The local sludge company, apart from their regular filth business, also offer “massages” by young women who I’m almost certain have no training whatsoever in anatomy. Well maybe some areas of the body. Anyway, I got stuck in the elevator with the sludge company rep when she came onboard with her “assistant”, a girl in her early twenties I would think, cute as a button. They wanted to know if I was married and if I had a shore pass. For the record, I said no and no.
On the ramp I met a very enthusiastic Chinese tallyman by the name of Lu Zao Tian. He wanted me to write my signature in his book where he collected signatures from people all over the world. He also gave me his card as seen in the picture, of which he was very proud. He explained everything about it. The Chinese signs on the left side, “Yin Fan Feng Shun”, is kinda “Bon voyage”. On the right it says “Jian Kang Chang Shou” which means “yooh maddah enh faddah long livvh” and at the top there’s “Ping an Kuai le” which is translated below to English. I don’t know if you can tell but it actually says “SAFETY ANG HAPPY” and the “G” has been corrected with a pen. It also features seagulls, he bubbled happily.

The chief officer thinks I have cult management qualities. Well, he said I looked like a cult leader. It’s a start, I guess. This pleases me greatly since me and my friend Linus started planning, I mean scheming, for a cult a long time ago. The idea was actually a ship on international waters where we could get away with various stuff. Nothing fancy, just your average sect, indoctrination and general mind-fuckery. Everyone was to wear white linen clothing and there would be a spaceship coming. Of course, there would be some sexy content as well, why else would you start a cult if not for the mad orgies, right? At one point we were considering a female only membership policy but it was retracted. We figured the women might get restless fighting over our attention and start fighting each other. That might be pleasing to watch for a while, but we would eventually be forced to manhandle them somehow and I just can’t hit a woman. I respect them too damn much. Also, I think Linus still have some issues to work out with his wife.

De Grey

Scientist are working on a cure for aging. Yeah, that’s right people, check out this awesomely bearded dude talking about it on TED. (His name is Aubrey de Grey. Is that the most badass name for a scientist ever? easy! It’s almost a shame he’s not an evil scientist.) I know people are terrified of this kind of science, “they’re playing god” and “how will we feed everyone” and “the traffic is gonna be awful”. Not me. I think it’s just Tits! 
Imagine living in the future, I’ve always wanted to live in the future ever since I saw Star Wars. And I need the extra time too, there are plenty things left to do in this life. No, I don’t worry about the future, it will sort itself out, it always has in the past. I worry about the present. There are some serious stuff going on right now that we have to fix. Like Microsoft Excel 2007. The captain has given me an assignment to reformat this diagram graphics doodle for this thing and it involves me working with excel. Or rather cursing at excel. It’s not doing what I want it to do. WHY WON’T YOU FUCKING DO WHAT I FUCKING WAN’T YOU TO DO YOU FUCKING PIECE OF WORTHLESS CRAP?!! There’s a reason I stopped working the IT industry, y’know. And it’s Sunday, it’s supposed to be my day off. And I’m sitting here with THIS FUCKING EXCEL!!! 
“Excel” my ass, by the way, it should be called Microsoft “Underachieve” 2007. Or how about Microsoft “Depression” 2007? No, I got it. Microsoft “Slowly insert barbed wire up your urethra” 2007. Maybe you, my precious reader, have a better name suggestion for this software abomination? By all means, share. 

Either way, I just taxi-drivered the fuck out of my hairstyle and I feel much better. I’m as bald as a….no I won’t say it.

We’ve had some adventures with the stern ramp. Some minor involuntary design changes. Or to put it another way, it broke. And it didn’t want to close. It’s not this tiny little ramp that you can simply adjust with a screwdriver. It’s a huge thing powered by hydraulics and when it breaks it’s a major issue since we can neither load nor discharge. But after some advanced carpentry and metal work, it closed again. But will it open in the next port? Ohh it’s ever so exciting for the chief officer who is responsible both for the ramp and cargo operations in general. It was 30 degrees today but nobody was sweating like him.

Every month the Swedish Seaman’s Service send out 6 new movies to all the Swedish vessels. After a few years the collection adds up. There are no doubt 500+ movies to choose from onboard, some good, some bad. I just saw “Under Siege II” with Steven Seagal. You know, the one on the train. It’s clearly not as good as the first one but it was still pretty funny. They shot the Playmate in the leg though. That was uncalled for.

On our continuous story “Beverages and snacks of the world” we have today a wide selection from the wonderful nation of Japan. Let’s start from the left, shall we? The Japanese seem to like ice coffee, there is a variety of choices for the stuff in the local supermarket. I opted to try a can of ice cold Bruno. Not terribly exiting but with a name like that I had to give it a go. Next is Skal, a very sweet limy flavor. It would have potential as a drink mixer if it wasn’t so sweet. And the color of the drink made me think of something, never mind what that was. The next one has to be real healthy, why else would they make the bottle bright pink? It had a nice black currant flavor but I was expecting some kind of buzz and I got nuthin'. The one in the middle turned out to be iced tea. No flavor. By far the best one. The little black one I took one tiny sip of and decided it was enough for me. All I know is it says 500mg and there’s a garlic on the label. That’s also what it tasted like. Why would they make that?
The Mitsuya cider goes straight into the alcohol-soda category. It was pretty good the first two sips with a very rich and balanced flavor of vending machine bubble gum and I’m sure it would be a hit amongst the teenagers at home. On the right is not actually a beverage but a fake cologne given to the chief officer by papa-san. “you give girrfreeenh”. He didn’t like it cause it smells like soap so he gave it to me. I didn’t like it cause it smells like soap so I threw it away.