Tuesday, March 13, 2007

The Luncheon of the "Boating Party"

Today, had a fabulous catch up lunch with my dear friend Gene Ramey: artist, scholar, consultant AND musician ( quite the Renaissance man). Gene, whom I met when I was on the board of "Visual AID" ( a charity offering assistance to artists living with AIDS / HIV) came into the City today to help me hang our next show: maritime art by Matt Southard, famed photographer of the San Francisco Examiner. Southard, who passed away a couple of years back, left a legacy of incredible paintings which his daughter, Donna, found -- literally -- in the attic. The image (to the left) shows his incredible painting called "Quarantine" which shows the classic Normandie and Bremen together. Wonderful!

"David, would you take a look at these?" she queried one fine day. Of course -- hearing the subject matter -- I concurred. What I saw would fill a maritime curator with glee: original, never-before-seen paintings of ships ( military and passenger) from years past. I was hooked, and forthwith scheduled a party and showing. For all of you in the vicinity of our offices tomorrow night -- swing by!

Last week, had a wonderful "last minute" jaunt to New York City to visit Alfredo's aunt & uncle visiting from Brazil. Luckily, my martime mentor and treasured friend, Bill Miller, was in town. We spent three glorious days in his guest room, surrounded by paintings of ships; 946 models of ships; and dozens-and-dozens of bookshelves groaning under the weight of ship memorabilia -- you get the picture. Our thanks to Bill for his kindness and hospitality. Having now visited "Casa Miller" I understand how he earned the moniker of "Mr. Ocean Liner."

More anon -- will report tomorrow after the party on the response to Matt Southard's wonderful paintings.


Saturday, January 27, 2007

27 January 2007 -- Home from the Sea -- for a bit

Just off the phone with dear "Mary Mea Culpa" ( inside joke) -- a friend along with her hubby Bill from Constellation's Trans-Atlantic last May. Note to Mary: thanks for the proof-reading, it is ALWAYS appreciated. And, most importantly -- Happy (belated) Birthday!

Talking with another ship lover always spurs me to jot a few notes. And, since this is a blog, I will do my best to be a faithful correspondent. To that end, upcoming bits of news from out here on the edge of the Pacific: next Sunday, the Queen Mary 2 will sail under the Golden Gate -- the largest passenger vessel ever to visit our fair city. Needless to say, I am full of excitement, having never seen her before. Luckily, through excessive pleading ( and a few drinks) I was able to secure passage aboard the Jeremiah O'Brien for her special "greet the Queen" sail-in party. That will be a blog entry for sure ( with photos). Can't wait! Also, Bill "Mr. Ocean Liner" Miller will be sailing with the QM2 so I'll be able to chat with my "maritime mentor" for a bit.

And when next to sea? I'm happy to say we'll be back aboard Celebrity Constellation for her September crossing from Dover to Port Liberty. Along the way, stops in Ireland and Halifax will allow me to pick up even more Titanic and White Star memorabilia. My book-shelves are already groaning in anticipation.

To my left on the piano: a stack of maritime prints and photos to scan for our next lecture. To my right: a stack of PR work ( how I hate when "land life" intrudes on "ship life"). It's the weekend, so I think ships may win this round. A few miles away, Titanic is getting ready to "sail" away from her exhibit berth at the downtown Metreon Center. It's been a good run, having now completed its second extension. Having seen the Titanic artifact exhibit in two other incarnations ( Atlantic City and Las Vegas) I can fairly say this one was the best. During the run, I met and befriended Lee Merideth, authore of "1912 Facts About Titanic" -- a must-have for any buff. We gleefully bent each others' ears chatting about all-things-ships-and-Titanic last weekend. What fun! Also, Lee shared with me some wonderful photos of the Titanic museum in Branson, Missouri. I have never been, but after seeing these pix ( above) -- I'm ready for a road trip!

More anon,
D of the Sea.

Wednesday, January 3, 2007

Homeward Bound: 3 January 2007, At Sea

“Hump Day” at Sea: The Wednesday before Saturday docking in Los Angeles. It’s that strange, pre-melancholy time of a round-trip cruise: too early for packing but not too late for tanning. Passengers wander like zombies with their “pre-paid gratuities forms” trying to figure out if this is a too-generous or too-stingy way to facilitate the age-old conundrum of tipping at sea ( myself included). By 6:30pm tonight, the decision will have to be made: the first deadline of arrival mode. Many will miss the demarcation and heave a secret sigh of relief. “Oh well, they can’t take the tips out of my account so I’ll have to distribute cash ( usually 20s) around the deck.”

And certainly, if any are deserving of tips for services rendered, it is those who minister to passengers afloat. Crew leans against bulkheads in exhaustion. I saw one steward standing up asleep, his head cradled on a pile of towels atop a companion way service cart. They’re tired, and tired of us: the constant state of any/everyone who has ever worked at sea.

John Maxtone-Graham once wrote that “every cruise is exactly the right length, except on the final day when everyone is ready to go home.” For the passengers, that is certainly a wisdom-filled truism. For crew – they are home. And, no matter how friendly or accommodating they may be, all crew ( especially officers) are vaguely resentful of all these people “in their house.” From first-hand experience, I know it. Having first gone to sea aboard Crystal Harmony for a brief stint in the early 90s, and then for two-and-a-half World Cruises, 45 countries and almost 16 full months aboard Crystal Symphony I can assure you: working at sea is as hard as it gets. A friend so employed for several years called it “ship tired”: a unique combination of exhaustion, sleep-deprivation, time-change-confusion and not knowing-or-caring what day it is or into what port one is pulling.

The computer room assistant ( a paragon whose patience would rival a saint’s) spends his first days at sea listening to passenger complaints about “how slow the Internet” is and the rest of the cruise running to the printer to retrieve documents for guests that will then get left behind or discarded. He rarely gets thanked and is looked upon as a liar when he explains the simple fact that “we are at sea” which should alert most passengers as to why their precious download speed might be a wee-bit slower than one secured on land via cables. ( Sigh). How I do feel for the crew. At about this point in the cruise, their smiles are a bit droopy, their “my I help you sirs” a little less crisp and their attitudes a bit more sanguine: they know us now. The standard response to all our “how are you todays” sent their way is almost always a variation of “Excellent!” but now rendered with an even more robotic Stepford Wives quality.

And, of course, they are emotionally tired as well. Many, especially those from Southeast Asia or the Philippines, are working aboard ship to support families at home: families they sometimes don’t see for months at a stretch. Contracts of eight months long are not uncommon, certainly for the most menial of crew occupations. Privacy is a luxury they never have, as – except for officers – most cabins are shared. Plus, of course, there are dozens of new customs and languages to hear and process. When I sailed, I was one of only seven American crew (U.S. citizens making splendidly spoiled passengers but splendidly awful crew) among 800 comrades from 35 countries. Aboard Celebrity Summit¸ 65 nationalities are represented – a United Nations afloat if ever there was one. For a young man from Goa or a young woman from Manila it is hard work indeed, and a long, long way from home.

They make our coffee and our beds; wash our clothes and our toilets. Our food trays they carry and our ash trays they empty. They pour and they prod, preen and pretend to love it and all to refrains of “it is my pleasure sir” and “how may I assist you” and in general without most passengers understanding the extreme amount of work that is accomplished to get us coming back.

However, most love it – love it in ways incomprehensible to those who labor ashore. A magazine writer who crewed briefly entitled his chronicle of the experience as “the greatest thing I’ll never do again.” Crew works their aft off, but gets to see the world in the process. Sadly, however, because of the work load, sometimes whole ports – whole countries – drift away to stern as those in ‘tween decks servitude are just so: stuck between decks serving or sleeping and too busy-or-tired to even poke a head on deck to see the sites sailing by. It was for just this reason that after going round the world once, I signed up again. I wanted to see all the places I had barely glimpsed the first time.

The crew is tired, and never more so than now: poised in mid-stream, literally, for that most-exhausting but anticipated of days, embark/debark, when one load of human freight leaves and another takes its place. But, also for a few hours that day the crew can breathe more freely. For a few hours, the ship is empty of those whose spoiled and unknowing vacations make their employment possible. For a few hours, the only people onboard are those who call it home. For a few hours, the ship belongs to the crew. That is the greatest gratuity of all.

More anon.