Day 11

13 September, 2003

We are heading east again. Breakfast is a civilized, if heavy handed, crepes. With applesauce? A beautiful clear day, damn hot although not unbearably, with calm seas (again). An occasional flying fish that seems of a larger variety then in the Mediterranean (with a shorter flight span too). We have accumulated some more birds! A dazed looking seabird of some funny looking sort, is standing on the containers. The wood pigeons look as if they are struggling, the swallows happy as usual. In Singapore, as almost every container will be shifted, this great cliff like and private environment will be disrupted, which is why I suspect they might leave us there.

Despite this incredible run of weather, the seaman’s natural superstition does not allow celebration but only worry for what is ahead. There seems some confusion among various members of the crew as to whether or not the monsoons may still affect us in the Indian ocean. As each typhoon smashes into east asia (two big ones in the last week) they worry for us. I say, “well they have already come and gone and typhoon season is suppose to be over around now”. They say that the season has been longer and more active each year for the last bunch of years. They blame this on the global warming, which they blame on the US. Although that may only be a little more then half right, when you portion that blame on our five percent of the people in the world, it is pretty serious. Add the attitude that dropped the Kyoto agreement of which these people are very aware, let alone the Bush crowd’s inability to accept there might be some scientific basis in this, and these people who are taking the effect of these changes in their shorts may someday revolt for us! Now there’s a biz, hire a revolution!

The captain has lent me a large box of classical music cds. He appeared at my door with it. Lunch on Saurday was the only constant tradition, called “binhoff” (as the chef wrote it on the menu), a good lentil soup with a sausage in it, with lots of french baguette. After lunch I walk the decks about four times and watch the sea for life. Then I go to the swimming pool room, work out on the machine, and take a dip in the pool, but a scene I saw in the film Spherea couple of days ago, involving mean and snippy sea snakes, has kind of made me nervous, so it was a short dip.

The Gulf of Aden just off the tip of the horn of Africa, not a cloud in the sky, a gentle and deep azure like the Mediterranean. The whole ship is running smoothly, full sea speed, straight ahead for the next week until Singapore. Frank the mechanic mentioned his worry that shore leave may be canceled because of the one case of SARS reported a few weeks ago. Oh well. Meanwhile, for whatever reason and against the experience reported by those who have gone before on the internet, the entire superstructure was washed down with high pressure hoses today. This has made my own little private fiefdom comfortable and handsome with its clean creamy white paint. I sit listening to short-wave looking back at the beauty of a sunset at 18:45 No clouds, no other ships, just a great big bowl. Right before bed, a bit of rockin’ and rollin’ so I go up to the bridge to check the action. As we have cleared the horn, a tremendous current that normally runs up the coast of Africa is hitting us broadside. I see, by the indicator, that the ocean temperature is twenty-six degrees celsius. When you think of the energy required to heat so much water, it makes your gas bills quiver (if that’s your idea of a good time). Tonight the clocks go ahead again, so tomorrow the sunset will be later.

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