Around the World in 188 Days

There's No Place Like Home

2007-03-01T09:33:00.000-08:00

I know I’m sporting a “Gulf tan” under my layers of winter clothing, as I brave the Island’s pelting rain and comparably unbearable cold… and I couldn’t be giddier about it. No amount of wet weather or dreary skies can dampen my joys of being home. I did managed to earn some rather odd looks from my fellow Victorians, though, when I arrived at the airport, wearing nothing but a t-shirt, jeans, and flip-flops. So, I wasn’t exactly ready to give up my hot Oriental weather yet, is that so wrong? Hong Kong was like something out of any Chinatown across Canada, only to the extreme and filled with incredibly hospitable people. We were fortunate enough to have arrived with the commencement of the Chinese New Year, and stayed for the duration of the festivities. The lights and decorations that adorned every alleyway vendor to the most extravagant of skyscrapers were breathtaking. We enjoyed a gorgeous fireworks display that outshone any I’d been spectator to before (save New Year’s Eve in Sydney Harbour), and with a show duration of over 25 minutes was enough to make this ol’ Edmontonian patron jealous. Miniature orange trees were just as abundant as the appearance of cute pigs and the traditional red and gold palette (this year is the year of the pig, or boar). I managed to make the most of my time in Hong Kong, especially as this was to be my last port before flying home. I was sure to sample all forms of local cuisine – just doesn’t sound right to ask a local where we can find some great “Chinese food,” you know? The strangest of the dishes was purchased by a friend of mine; shark fin soup. After experiencing the mucus consistency of the broth, we quickly escorted him to the McDonald’s line up for a Big Mac… trust me, he earned it! One of the best parts of travelling in the Eastern countries of the world is the cost of food. The portion sizes were just as plentiful, if not more, and yet we were paying next to pennies for some of the best food I have tasted. Just to put things into a more western perspective for you; a Big Mac Meal with an extra Quarter Pounder with cheese burger would cost a North American about $8 - $10. In Hong Kong, for example, it works out to $3.25. It was stuff like this that consistently had me questioning who was really the “civilized” society. There is a lot to be said about a culture that attaches more value to life’s necessities, thus making it more attainable to the masses. Going from the bustle of Hong Kong, to the slower pace of Langford, BC should have been such a relief… but it was overwhelming in a way. It wasn’t so much that I was trying to find my path amongst so many faces I didn’t recognize, but that all the faces were white. Strange to say, I know, but after spending close to 6 months in close quarters with 230 of your closest friends in Middle Eastern and Asian nations, where you are the token white people, can make coming home a bit of a shock. I actually caught myself staring at fellow Canadians in the airports and listening closely to the accents of home. Exciting when you realize you are almost home in those friendly tones and rosy-cheeked smiles, but a bit frightening too. Just makes you notice that you are quickly leaving your element and will be jumping back into your old life again. So far, so good though. I’ll write more about my Hong Kong experience later, cause the longer I take to recount the tale, the longer all of you are waiting to hear from me. Will write again soon. To those of you reading from the boat – I miss you guys… BBQ at my place when you get back! I’m going through withdrawal – go figure!

Big News!

2007-02-14T12:48:00.000-08:00

As some of you may already be aware, I have been fortunate enough to have been offered a career course. This course is the same engineering course that Kevin is currently on, and is a requirement to progress in our trade. It means a posting ashore at the Fleet School (located on base in Esquimalt) for 20 months and is rather academically rigorous. The catch is the course commences on the 2nd of April this year. Therefore, in order to still take my earned holiday time after completing a Gulf deployment, I will be flown home early out of Hong Kong. The good news is, no more threat of ‘death by seasickness’ at the mercy of the Alaskan coastal waters! Yes, I am absolutely thrilled and relieved. Although, part of me is rather depressed by the prospect of leaving all my sailing companions behind, only a few weeks from our scheduled homecoming. I was really looking forward to pulling alongside the jetty to all the media and fanfare. But those sad thoughts are quickly replaced with excitement at the prospect of sleeping in my own bed and cooking in my own kitchen… and of course having Kevin close enough to hug. Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone! I hope it was an enjoyable one for you all. Holidays aren’t really that big of a deal out here lately. Although I’ve discovered it has a lot to do with our homecoming approaching so quickly. Everyone is anxious to see there loved ones, so the festivities have been somewhat subdued with our thoughts on home. We did have ‘chick flicks’ playing in the lounge (Cave) all day though and chocolate cake for dessert with supper. Since I wrote last we have visited Male, Maldives. It is a small island that seems to exist purely for its having an airport. There really wasn’t much to see or do there, which wasn’t such a disappointment as we only had an overnight stop to take on fuel. I did manage to window shop and enjoy a wonderful outdoor buffet dinner with friends though. After Male (pronounced MAL-LAY) with steamed on to Port Klang, Malaysia. What a beautiful country. We were docked about an hour drive from Guala Lumpur and enjoyed 5 well earned days alongside. I learned that Malaysia is actually pronounced MALAY- SEE-AH by the locals. The country is ruled by a constitutional monarchy, much like Canada, where the parliament has all power. However, instead of one royal family, the Malaysians have 8! Every 5 years a new Sultan from a different family is voted in as ruler… which, like Canada, is mainly as a figurehead of the country. I spent my time taking in the downtown sights; the Petronas Twin Towers, with a 4-story shopping mall; and the Menara Kuala Lumpur, is the world’s 5th tallest communication tower which had incredible views of the city and an informative tour via mp4 player (it plays videos). Of course there was plenty of shopping as well, with some great buys. I even managed to fill my camera’s memory card to the limit in this port – so lots of pictures to add to the site once I return home and have a good internet connection again. I stayed at the Holiday Inn Glenmarie in Klang along with several others from the ship. Our Logistics PO managed to make all the arrangements and get us all an excellent rate on our rooms ($52/night). The hotel had two golf courses, several restaurants and pubs, as well as my personal favourite, a fully equipped spa. The spa quickly became the highlight of everyone’s stay as we all managed to make a visit there for some much needed relaxation and pampering. I was lucky enough to be in port (and not Duty) for my birthday, which we celebrated mostly on the 11th. I was spoiled by my Mom and Oma, who both sent me ‘birthday-in-a-box’ packages containing all sorts of party decorations and goodies. Two of the guys took on the duties of party coordinators and confiscated all of my decorations, as the “birthday girl shouldn’t be burdened with such tasks.” That evening, after spending nearly 5 hours at the spa with everyone, I was surprised with a poolside party, complete with decorations, candles, sparklers, balloons floating in the pool and a large decadent chocolate cake personalized with my name spelt correctly (huge bonus!) and a group of great friends singing. What a wonderful way to ring in a new year of your life! I was completely spoiled and am so grateful to these people for making my birthday so special and truly memorable. The next morning, my actual birthday (at least on Malay time), I shared breakfast with the two party coordinators prior to our trip back to the boat and was surprised yet again with another piece of cake, complete with icing wishes and candle glow. Can you understand why it is going to be so hard to leave this place? The following morning I was up at 3 am to get all the machinery flashed up for our departure of Malaysia. At 6:00am the rest of the ship was awaked with the typical whistle blast over the loudspeaker and the traditional “Wakey, Wakey. Hands to breakfast” pipe. I was in the MCR (Machinery Control Room) when the first bars of a very familiar song start to play across the airwaves. I was in shock and kept searching the faces around me asking, “Who did this? Who put this on?” No one really understood what I was going on about until the first verse began, “Corrina, Corrina.” I was welling up at this point, but still needed to perform my roundsman duties. I was in the engine space when the song ended and the CO came over the pipe wishing me a “Happy Birthday from your Mommy.” What a wonderful surprise! He came down to the MCR to congratulate me shortly after and explain that he wanted to wait to play the song until the 13th as that was when everyone would be onboard for our departure. I don’t know how you managed to pull it off, Mom. He is a pretty tough sell when it comes to playing songs on the broadcast system. It’s the whole, “if we do it for one, then we have to do it for all” adage. I believe that saying I had a memorable birthday experience would be a terrible injustice to the emotions and pride I was privileged to feel those few days. The well wishes posted on the Guestbook website and all the emails and messages sent via my Blog where gift enough. I felt so loved and close to all of you. To be honest, I don’t know how I would have coped these past months if it weren’t for the ability to communicate with my loved ones through such real-time means. I don’t think having to rely on “snail mail” would have cut it. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read my words and share your strength with me. I’m looking forward to telling you all about the next port! With the Chinese New Year upon us, there should be plenty to share in the next entry. Oh! What a silly thing to nearly forget to tell. We also received our SWASM medals and ribbon for our deployment to the Persian Gulf on our first day in Malaysia. The Commodore presented them to us with much praise and gratitude for our sacrifices. It’s really shiny! I’m pretty excited about the whole ceremony of it all. I’ll try to include a picture that was taken when I was presented the medal. Of course I couldn’t keep my personality from shining through though. The Commodore approached, I saluted and began a friendly conversation with him… not really the typical “parade” protocol. I managed to make him laugh though when he asked me if he was pronouncing my name correctly, to which I replied, “Yes Sir. The P is only there for conversation.” I think he’ll remember me. All for now!

2007-02-01T01:22:00.000-08:00

I thought everyone would truely enjoy these words written by Rick Mercer. http://www.theindependent.ca/article.asp?AID=1333&ATID=6 Hope to write again soon... computer time is hard to come by these days. The bosses are all working on our quaterly reviews and in desperate need of all available computers. But I'll sneak on when I can to keep you all posted. Two nights ago I was the lucky recipient of a "Spa Package" that was won by my buddy Charlie Chamberlain. Charlie wasn't really interested in the package which included an one hour massage and bath in the sickbay soaker tub... I'm lucky to have been the one he thought to give it to! I managed to bring in my MP3 player and a small set of speakers, some shampoo to make bubbles, and a mint chocolate (courtesy of my brother, Mike). So I enjoyed a bubble bath with dim lighting while Enya serenaded me. Something really cool about taking a bath on a war ship in the middle of the ocean. The bath water moved with the gentle rocking of the ship. I'm not sure if we are in the northern or the southern hemisphere though - I could tell which way the water went down the drain. Will try to write again soon!

All That Glitters IS Gold Part Three

2007-01-30T10:52:00.000-08:00

Where did I leave off? Right… “LEFT at the feral cat.” I decided to spend my last day off in Dubai away from the temptation of jewels, gold and high fashion items and participate in a day safari. The Day Safari entailed a 4-wheel drive through the sand dunes of the Arab desert with a stop in a traditional Bedouin village for an evening meal, henna tattooing and belly dancing demonstration. The SUVs would pick us up and dropped us off right at the ship, so there was no arguing the convenience factor. I was in awe of the scenery as we followed the freeway out to a sea of sand. It may sound odd, but the landscape really reminded me of Alberta in the winter. I know, I know… how can the Arabian Desert under the unforgiving sun remind me of a snow covered prairie province? Well, the freeway for one was incredibly straight as it cut a path through the never-ending sand dunes. Something about the desolate quiet of the open plains was mirrored in the fenced off sections of sand dotted with the occasional camel or ATV. You could see almost to the horizon in any direction… and the desert reflected the suns rays much like a prairie field after a snowfall. Funny how you can find memories of home half way around the world. Our driver reminded me of my father, if only for his dark hair and presence. He too had that rare twinkle in his eye that instantly made me feel comfortable around him, and yet curious of what mischief he might chase. He didn’t speak barely a word during our drive out to the dunes, leaving us to wonder if he spoke any English at all. But once our 7-seater SUV started challenging those sand dunes, I quickly became aware of the universal language of “holy shits” and uncontrollable laughter. This man really was like my Dad. Tackling each dune with a little boy grin and a daredevil attitude. He continually hung back from the convoy of other vehicles so we could have the maximum room to careen about and send sand flying over the hood. The more we laughed and hollered, the more he swerved and laid on the gas. What a great experience! I don’t think the pictures can ever do the moment justice. There were 4 of us in the truck, so we were able to each take turns in the front seat, where the view was the best. I was the last to make my way up to the panoramic sights of the windshield. It was then that our driver and I started to talk. This man could speak very good English; I think he just appreciated having someone try to engage him in conversation. He told us all about the area we were in and all the growth Dubai had seen in the past year alone. He even spoiled us with a trip off the main roads to the Bedouin camp that involved a lot of fresh sand and blind embankments to climb over. We even managed to capture a few photos of the sun setting just before finding the cluster of tents in a small “sand valley.” The Bedouin camp was fantastic. I had the opportunity to dress up in a traditional burka complete with veil (this is the long black gowns you see the women wearing). I was surprised to learn that the women who wear the burkas only wear them while out in public and underneath they are wearing full outfits in the latest fashions. Even the veils are removed once a woman becomes comfortable with a new guest. And to answer Mary Ellen’s question, I did not have to be covered up at all while in any of the Middle Eastern countries. I tried to dress respectably – basically, if you wouldn’t wear it for a round of golf, it probably should stay in the closet. Dubai was incredibly modern, much like a European city, so there were no issues at all. In fact, I would say I received a lot of attention there, all positive, while out sightseeing and window-shopping. Anyway, the food was delicious. I tasted the best lamb chops that were prepared over an open flame and hand made pita bread that was a bit sweet to the palate. While we enjoyed our meal, all eaten with our fingers in true Bedouin style, we were dazzled by the belly dancer who spun her body around on several fine Persian carpets, with all of us diners circled around her. It was amazing how this woman could control every muscle in her core. She invited several of us up to dance alongside her – yet again, we were overtaken by fits of laughter as we tried vainly to mimic her motions. A few of us girls were inspired and purchased belly-dancing costumes with aspirations of taking lessons when we return to Victoria! A special addition to the night’s festivities was the rising of a full moon over the camp. Mystical is perhaps the only word I could use to describe it. Upon our return to the ship that night, I asked permission to hug our driver good-bye rather than shake his hand. He didn’t understand what I was asking at first so I just made the motions and was greeted with a huge smile and hug (that I secretly pretended was from my Dad) and a kiss on the cheek. Oh, and I managed to get a picture with him too at the camp next to a little Christmas tree – weird, I know. So, there you have it. A window into my memorable time in Dubai. I would return in a heartbeat. And not just because the monotony of the sail has been wearing on my lately. I have been busy with the daily chores of a sailor and stoker, and continually find my thoughts drifting to home and all the things I would like to do upon my return. But we’re not too far from that now, I suppose. Until I see that jetty filled with wives, husbands, family and media I plan to stay focused on enjoying each port as we inch closer to home… and I choose the word “inch” for a reason!

I'm still here...

2007-01-22T14:35:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone, I just wanted to send out a quick note to let you all know that, yes, I am still bobbing around out here in open water. I haven't been able to write another entry regarding my Dubai adventures for a bit here due to the turbulence of the seas... it's just not playing nice with my tummy. But I am proud to report that I am still Gravol-Free as of Dubai! I am looking forward to writing you all again soon... just not now as I am currently "on watch" and therefore should be monitoring machinery rather than sneaking onto the computer to write Blog entries... (hee, hee)

All That Glitters IS Gold Part Two

2007-01-12T20:13:00.000-08:00

Another one of my great purchases involved a slightly seedy shopping experience. Oh, who am I kidding? I half expected to end up on an episode of “COPS.” It all started with the search for cheap replica watches, that a group of the guys wanted to buy. The opportunity is abundant. To give you an idea of just how abundant, I was ready to make up a t-shirt that read, “No. I am not interested in buying your cheap watches, designer handbags or singing camels!” The guys were approached by one of the many street peddlers and decided we would follow one of them to his shop. I should have known something was up when our group of five started to resemble a conga line snaking its way through the tiny alleyways and restaurants… watch out for the feral cats, they are hiding in the strangest places and are rather intrigued by pale skin. After dodging trash and other unidentifiable objects in the streets, and pretending to ignore the odd looks given to us by the local cafeteria goers, we entered an unmarked building and piled into an elevator. I couldn’t help but note the elevator was rated for 8 persons with a maximum weight of 200 Kg – definitely not enough to make me feel safe, but what can you do? Too late now, we were already moving up… although rather laboriously. We reached the second floor and followed the purveyor to his locked storeroom door – which was about the size of a walk in closet with no windows and a huge wooden door. I guess windows weren’t really necessary considering all the security cameras that were beaming images of all sorts of outside angles to the lone colour TV in the corner of the room. (Yep, “colour TV.” Business must be good.) Not to mention the prime selling space windows would have occupied, as the walls were literally papered with knock off designer handbags. Fendi, Gucci, Dolce Gabanna, Calvin Klein, Diesel, Chanel – you name it, it was there. And there was no risk of shoplifting considering the moment we were all in the room, the door was dead bolted behind us. Which drew my attention to the door. It would take a stick of dynamite to blast through that puppy. It had two sliding bolt locks and numerous deadbolts… I guess their prices really were a “steal.” I couldn’t help the thought that crossed my mind, staring at that door, “Wow! I might wake up in a bath tub filled with ice, missing my liver, all for the sake of finding my Mom and hair stylist fabulous handbags!” I got over it though, the moment I spotted what will be my Mom’s first Fendi (knock off) bag. I started the search for a great find for Lisa (my stylist – trust me, the work this girl does – she deserves it!) and had my own personal assist that kept handing me each bag to inspect and hopefully fall in love with. It took awhile, but I had time to kill since the boys were wrist deep in watches. By the end of an hour of heated bartering and nervous glances at the video monitor… we each walked away satisfied with our spoils. All we had to do now was figure out how to backtrack our way to the main street again. Are you sure it wasn’t LEFT at the feral cat in the tree? More to follow!

Christmas with the Girls of 1 Mess!

2007-01-11T08:31:00.000-08:00

Christmas with some of the girls from 1 Mess (that is where I sleep). The group of us had done a Secret Sant gift exchange with each other... and we had a blast opening our gifts and sipping hot chocolate in our Santa hats.

Mary Walsh!

2007-01-11T08:26:00.000-08:00

Here is Mary Walsh and myself... what a woman!

All That Glitters IS Gold Part One

2007-01-11T08:22:00.000-08:00

Dubai, Dubai, Dubai… What a gorgeous city with so many beautiful secrets. If the glittering Gold Souks, abundant Spice Souks and countless knock off fashions at jaw dropping prices aren’t enough to win your heart, the raw, untamed beauty of her surrounding deserts will. Our ship came alongside after a particular trying 28-day patrol for our 10 day RAMP period and much needed R & R time. The main purpose of the port visit was to accomplish some much needed repairs and maintenance to various equipment… one of the big undertakings being to repaint the ship’s hull and superstructure as we have been sporting somewhat of a “racing stripe” along our water line for some time now. Not the most flattering of paint jobs, but it sure makes it easy to pick us out of a crowd. To the average crew member though, this was the opportunity to blow off some steam, curl up next to a hotel room phone without out time limits, celebrate New Years Eve in style, or purchase those major pieces of jewellery for loved ones. I was lucky enough to indulge in all of the above, with extras! I was duty the first night in and working the second, which in a positive mind set, gave me the opportunity to plan my first day off the ship according to all the information and tips the others brought back with them after their much appreciated scouting out of the city and sites. Day 3 was all mine to try to find a hotel and take in as much of Dubai as I could… and I was off at a running pace, cause according to all those who did actually return to the boat those first two days, there was plenty to experience and explore. I had to make the most of every possible moment. The first stop was the Gold Souk. A souk is basically a market or collection of stores that all deal in the same goods. The amount of gold simply hanging in the store windows was enough to make you think you had glaucoma… So much yellow gold that I’m sure even on a cloudy day, you would think the sun was out in her full radiance. It was in this market, that a dormant gene awoke deep within me. I can now say that I am my mother’s daughter. Gold and gems are like an unexplainable addiction – once you see, try on, or buy one, you’ve gotta have more! I had become a jewellery junkie – and I’m not ashamed! Even the Dutch in me, couldn’t deter me as everything I encountered was marked at incredibly low prices. After shopping around and several days of trips back and forth to the souk and hotel room phone calls with Kevin discussing purchases and credit limits (hee, hee) I left Dubai with gorgeous pieces. I fell in love with the stone Aquamarine and thus it’s appearance in white gold settings in my new ring, earrings and pendant. I also managed to get a custom pendant made with the initials KC in white and yellow gold intertwined. Kevin keeps insisting it is “so sweet that I want to wear his initials,” despite my insistence that it is for our first names… I may have given up on that battle, but I’m determined to win the war (wink). The poor kid puts up with a lot of teasing from me. For example, I kept threatening to buy myself a gorgeous diamond ring… and that he would still be responsible to buy THE ring, it would just have to be bigger and better than the one I buy. To which he whined, “But Corrina, it’s DUBAI!” “I know. You better start saving.” He takes it all in stride – definitely a keeper! Okay, it’s getting late here and I have to go on watch in a few hours again. I’m sorry there was such a dry spell there with my entries – I am back on the watches, so time is in very short supply, and although I hate to admit it, sleep will always win out. I didn’t mean to leave you all worrying about our safety (thank you Uncle Frank). I will try to get a few more pictures uploaded for you guys… even though that first one took a good 15 minutes to load (gaaawwwdd!). Miss you all and love you more. Will continue the rest of the telling of Dubai soon (I hope).

Another with the CDS

2007-01-11T07:50:00.000-08:00

And here is another that was taken of me and the Chief of Defence Staff. He was such a personable and charasmatic gentleman - not at all what I expected from a General slash politician type. What a great treat to meet him and have him visit with us.

The Chief Of Defence Staff & Me!

2007-01-11T07:26:00.000-08:00

Here is an attempt at getting my picture on here, despite our incredible slow browser. Please let me know if it works... cause then I'll try another :)

First Things First

2007-01-11T07:20:00.000-08:00

Okay, I know that I am writing completely out of order here, however, I’m sure we can all agree that at least I’m WRITING. I’ve wanted to tell my tales of the glorious glitter of Dubai… but before I can do that, there is something I first need to get off my chest. My thoughts have become completely preoccupied with daydreams of my return home ever since we slipped Dubai and headed out for our last patrol. I find myself having trouble concentrating on little else… I log machinery twice, I forget why I had just ventured to the cafeteria, and the remaining port visits seem to only represent obstacles in my path home. The most frustrating aspect to all of this is apparently it is completely normal – and not in the female, hormonal neurosis kind of way. According to Kevin and other more seasoned sailors, this is all part of the crazy emotional frenzy that is a long sail. I figure as long as I don’t end up attempting a heroic RHIB escape for home, I’ll manage. I do know I’m not alone in this, if when a random person is asked if they are looking forward to going home and the reply is “only 2 months and 9 days to go!” If pressed, I’m sure a vast majority of us could actually tell you down to the second until we can expect to be home. You laugh, but we really do have an Excel spreadsheet set up to calculate that very number! (5,560,933.410 seconds) There’s a pie chart too… Well, without further ado… let’s get started on the retelling of Dubai and all her secrets!

Christmas In The Gulf Part Two

2007-01-11T06:56:00.000-08:00

Christmas morning was no slouch in the excitement and cheer department. I started off the morning rather early, in true Christmas style. I had the morning watch and so was seen moving throughout the ship, Santa hat displayed, as early as 3 am. There was much excitement with the promise of Santa visiting the ship and presents to open. The “Big Guy” did make his appearance during our delicious Christmas lunch of turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, gravy, carrots and, of course, lots of cranberry sauce. We were served by our bosses, and exchanged ranks with anyone we chose. I managed to become the Engineering Officer for the day, and he, MY writer. Unfortunately the moment we exchanged epaulettes, the EO was quick to point out that I was now an officer and should be serving him lunch. I had no problems playing along, and of course hamming it up. A couple of us were still in the mood for festivities after the lunch had wound down, so we grabbed our caroling books and headed off for the galley to “sing for our supper.” We quickly decided that we might get further ahead, if we received goodies and treats for ceasing the caroling rather than starting. The entire day had a magic to it… that my words just can’t seem to capture. I guess you will all just have to wait to see the photos when we return home. The only draw back was there were no Boxing Day Sales to take advantage of. No lines of irritated shoppers stooping to indescribable lows to get their hands on the last pair of 70% off pumps (that aren’t even their size, but just far too good of a deal to pass up). Although, I’m sure Kevin was thrilled that the credit card wasn’t in jeopardy of doing a “mall tour.” Goodness knows that’s what Dubai will be for!

Christmas In The Gulf Part One

2006-12-28T23:30:00.000-08:00

Well the Christmas whirlwind has come and gone, and I am left with ruffled hair, far too many goodies to snack on and a huge grin on my face! It sounds strange to say, but I experienced the same amount of stress with the approaching Christmas Day festivities that I would have at home – granted I wasn’t expected to put on a turkey dinner or brave the last minute shopping trials of the local mall. I must admit that the holiday was a blast though… I wasn’t expecting to have my Christmas at sea peppered with so much laughter and good cheer. The old adage is true, “it is what you make of it” and I was sure to go all out. December 23rd saw the well wishes from Canada’s Chief of Defence Staff, Rick Mercer and Mary Walsh, imparted to us under the warm Arabian sun out on the ship’s flight deck. Our choir was encouraged to sing 2 Christmas carols for the guests, which went quite well considering we were given 30 minutes to shoot out of bed, shower, dress, pop some cold medication and form up with our song books. It was with this gunshot start that I started my Christmas celebrations. I received my first gift from General Hillier, with the presentation of the CDS Coin for recognition of my duties and demeanor in the Engineering Department… I was stunned, both due to my surprise at the award and my being called to the front of the crowd with “Able Seaman Hipfner.” You see, I had just recently found out that when the Queen addresses a military member during a parade, for example, whatever rank she uses (whether correct or not) is considered law. You are immediately promoted (or demoted) to the rank she addresses you with; she is after all the highest-ranking military member in the country. I was now concerned that the Chief of Defence Staff might also hold this same sort of clout. Did this now mean I had been demoted from Leading Seaman to Able Seaman? Well geez, as long as I got to keep the pay increase I guess it wouldn’t be so bad… These thoughts were interrupted by the laughter that ensued and the promises of a free beer. This is another Navy tradition, every time a fellow sailor calls you by the wrong rank they are obligated to buy you a beer. I didn’t see the beer, but I did walk away with my CDS Coin and my Leading Seaman rank. After the speeches and presentations, I was lucky enough to speak with Mary Walsh – what a fantastically funny, and down-to-earth woman. We took a few photos together, thanks to my Chief who tracked me down with his camera, after holding Mary hostage. The Chief was right when he said it had to be done as this was yet another great “Blog-able Incident.” I ended the day with confirming my reservations with “Chateau Sickbay.” I was assured by the ship’s Doc that I would be made very comfortable for my stay during the transit home. There will be no scrimping on the Gravol doses and numerous movies will be provided should I have the energy to enjoy them. I’m telling you, I’m spoiled! Christmas Eve came with the handing out of incredibly generous backpacks filled with all sorts of goodies from an organization in Ottawa, Ontario called “Home Fires.” It is a group of volunteers made up mostly of military families that put together gifts for all the deployed sailors, soldiers and airmen and women overseas. I was overwhelmed by the sentiment of the gifts. To think so many people had taken the time to send us books, Tim Horton’s coffee, chocolates, letters and cards is enough to make even the “Grinchiest” of us feel the spirit of Christmas. It means a lot to been shown Canadians’ support of us in such an abundant and giving way. Our Christmas concert went off with a bang… and I think everyone is a little wiser about just how much of a ham I can be if you give me a microphone and an audience. I spent the entire time, boogying to the music and singing my heart out for my adoring fans. I was pretty much wired after the who experience, so I took the opportunity to sit on the flight deck and watch the enormous projection of National Lampoons Christmas Vacation, until I felt calm enough to wander off to bed. Twenty-Five years on this planet has taught me that if you’re not in bed Christmas Eve, don’t expect Santa to make his appearance. Luckily my momentary lapse in judgment didn’t cost me any presents, as I had forgotten to leave out cookies and milk for the Big Guy. I fell asleep dreaming of Christmas’ past, a grin from ear to ear.

Chief of Defence Staff & Rick Mercer

2006-12-22T09:41:00.000-08:00

We have welcomed a number of distinguished guests to OTTAWA this evening, including Canada’s Chief of Defence Staff and Rick Mercer and Mary Walsh from This Hour Has 22 Minutes. The Captain announced this morning, over the sounds of showers and teeth brushing, that we would be treated to the comedy stylings of Canada’s much loved comedians and General Hillier, Canada’s Chief of Defence Staff, as well as a number of media personnel. They will be staying with us, laughing with us, and eating with us until tomorrow afternoon. The Junior Ranks (that’s me) are lucky enough to be hosting Rick Mercer in our Mess tonight… hopefully he’ll be able to make us all laugh – cause we sure could use it! Over dinner the Captain, declared our route home. We have been waiting since we slipped the lines in Esquimalt back in September to find out our route of return… But when the Captain spoke those ominous words, the silence was almost deafening. We will be returning the way we came, in that we will be taking the Pacific Route home. However, we will not be going to the same ports. Instead we will be stopping in Malaysia, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Dutch Harbor, and then Victoria. The moment the Captain said we were going up to Japan, I knew something wasn’t quite right. “Dutch Harbor” rang some bells, but I couldn’t quite recall where I had heard that name before… until someone piped up with the missing piece of that turbulent puzzle, “You know, where they film that TV show, ‘World’s Deadliest Catch.’” If you haven’t heard of this show, it is a reality program giving viewers “an inside look at the forty-foot waves, freezing temperatures and 700 pound king crab pots of one of the world's deadliest jobs.” I don’t think I have to elaborate much more as to the extent of my terror. I am trying hard not to let the impending doom of the Bering Sea dampen my spirits towards the ports to come – but COME ON!! The only positives that I have managed to muster are A) At least I will be able to claim I’ve sailed it all, with sea states as dangerous as this, B) I will now know what it is like to be on IV, and C) This will be one hell of a weight loss program, just in time for my homecoming. The only comfort has been double edged. I am not alone in my fears, as many of my bosses are getting rather nervous about this “change of plans” too… the only trouble is, if we are all sick, who will take care of us?? Time for the healing powers of comedy…

Opps!

2006-12-21T21:12:00.000-08:00

My mistake. The program will be aired at 6:30 local time, where ever you happen to be tuning in. "As It Happens" is a national show... therefore it plays at 6:30 in each respective city. Sorry guys!

CBC Radio Interview To Be Aired

2006-12-21T05:13:00.000-08:00

Great News Everyone! A few of us choir members onboard have sung a Christmas Carole for CBC Radio One's "As It Happens" show. Then I was interviewed, as well as Gilles LeBlanc (our senior clerk onboard). The show will be played tomorrow (Friday) evening at 6:30pm (Victoria Time)... as well as online (Mom). Here is a link to the website: http://www.radio.cbc.ca/programs/asithappens/ The interview was a spur of the moment event, so I was trying desperately not to forget anyone when wishing people a Merry Christmas... unfortunately, I'm pretty sure I referred to Kevin as "my boyfriend in Victoria" - OPPS! Vague, or what? And only sent greetings out to Mom in Holland, rather than Kees and Iris as well. I suppose my nerves got the better of me. But I'm sure you all know who is loved and missed! Happy listening!

Persian Gulf Serenades

2006-12-18T07:02:00.000-08:00

I have just participated in our Christmas Choir’s first practice that was held on the flight deck. For starters, there aren’t many people who can say they’ve sung Christmas carols on the flight deck of a warship, but we were practicing our scales while the helicopter (Sea King) was being scrubbed down after her last patrol flight. The backdrop was the choppy seas of the Persian Gulf, the horizon only broken by the occasional silhouette of an offshore oil rig. There is something to be said about belting out “The First Noel” in 24 degree heat at dusk on the open water. Is it silly that the solitary orange flames kissing the evening sky from that huge rig in the distance actually made me think of Stony Plain? Maybe being on the other side of the world really isn’t all that far away after all.

It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas!

2006-12-15T08:43:00.000-08:00

The snow banks of discarded wrapping paper and newspaper fillings have all melted, but the Christmas lights and serenades of Bing still echo through the flats each night. We may not be spending Christmas with those we love most, but there seems to be a firm resolve amoungst the majority of sailors that we will have a Merry Christmas still. I have taken on the role of Christmas Elf, decorating the Engineering office with salvaged garland and borrowed lights… my latest edition is a donated stocking that hangs above my desk filled with chocolates to reward those curious enough to snoop. The twinkling lights have already done a disappearing act that lasted 2 dim nights… the bulbs return was secured with the bribe of 2 Reese Peanut Butter Cookies – only one was lost to calloused Stoker sausage-fingers (We’re still awaiting the reappearance of the garland). I also assisted one of the Hull Techs in “re-wallpapering” the bulkhead outside of the Engineering Workshop. He had received letters and handmade Christmas cards from a school in Lake Cowichan (about 1 hour north of Victoria), thanks to the Christmas spirit of a little girl he knows through horse lessons named Grace. She managed to spark the fire of Christmas cheer in her class, and her older sister spread the idea on to the older grades. There are 49 letters from kids in grades 10 to 12 and lots of drawings from the kindergarten kids up to grade 3. What an uplifting experience to tape each one of these gifts up for all to see. I immediately had an idea while decorating. I asked Vince (the Hull Tech) if he would mind if we gave the crew the opportunity to write back to some of the letters. Vince thought it was a great idea and graciously allowed my inner “control freak” take the reigns and put the plan in motion. I numbered each letter and posted a sign up sheet for all interested to sign up to reply to the particular letter that spoke to them. The feedback was overwhelming… so far about half of the letters have been taken and interest is still growing. We’re even trying to see if we can arrange a visit to the school when we get back to Victoria to thank the kids and show them some photos and video of our trip, for all interested crew. It is definitely making this time of year a lot more joyous and special! The Christmas Cold Fairy also made an early visit… and although I managed to hold out until 2 days ago, I too succumbed to her mystical “fairy dust.” I’m currently engaged in the endless clogged nostril tango – you know, one minute the right one is your sweet avenue to air, you briefly experience that glorious moment of dual air intake, only to be crushed by the re-clogging of now the left nostril. I am stretching my medicinal skills though, concocting various combinations of decongestants and runny nose stoppers… I am still confident I am winning the war, if not each battle. I am thrilled to report that I was the proud recipient of 3 parcels and one Christmas Card/Letter upon our arrival in Muscat, Oman. I loved my card from my Oma… it’s funny, but just receiving one of her cards, with each bit of free white space filled up with her neat writing, made me feel like I was at home – although no one listened to what I read quite as intently as Kevin or my brother Mike would have. My Mom sent me the missing ingredient of a true Christmas – TWO Dutch Chocolate letters (C, of course), which were quickly envied by all who saw them… they are safely locked away in my locker as we speak. She also enclosed pictures (now posted above my head in my rack (bunk) and an “order,” for a pair of animal print stilettos – which I have been showing everyone (you now have 250 sailors looking for your shoes, Mom… most of them are male, mind you, but I have faith!). Dad sent me the biggest of the parcels… to which was enclosed a card and several wrapped presents. I’m waiting until Christmas morning to open those – come on, I have to. They’re wrapped! The best part of that parcel, so far, is that the address was all written out in Dad’s handwriting, I was pretty touched by that little extra! I was also thrilled to see that Mary Ellen had sent me a package too. It was absolutely perfect, she sent a snowman ornament that looks as though it was carved out of wood (my favorite) and a little Christmas tree and tree ornament that spells out “PEACE” (that was my favorite part!). I think the Christmas cake you sent, Mary Ellen, might land me a few favors, as the Chief is a huge fan of fruitcake, and an even bigger fan of rum! Thank you so much for sending these gifts. I felt so special to have received mail, let alone presents and edibles! I have also volunteered to be in the Christmas choir. We will be starting our practices on the 18th and will be performing for the crew on Christmas Eve, after which there will be a showing of a Christmas movie on the flight deck (it will be projected on the hangar door)… our own version of a drive in flick. I’ll let you know how it turns out. I have been told I will have a special part in one of the songs we’re singing, not sure what yet, but the song is called Christmas Shoes. Wow, Google it to read the lyrics, real tear jerker. As it seems my cold meds are starting to wear off, I’ll wait to tell you all about our Muscat, Oman port visit; or Manama City, Bahrain port visit; or my VIP Luncheon with the American Commander of the Persian Gulf (yes, this is the second luncheon I’ve gotten to attend). Are you curious yet?

"Corrina In The News"

2006-12-05T22:11:00.000-08:00

Hello Everyone! Just a quick note to pass on a warm fuzzy that has been imparted on to me. The following is a link to an article that ran in the Chronicle Herald in Halifax, Nova Scotia that used a picture of me. http://thechronicleherald.ca/NovaScotia/545100.html I was also told by the Public Affairs Officer onboard that my Remembrance Day message was played on A Channel in Victoria. The icing on the media cake is that my name is flying all over Ottawa (the "DND Headquarters") for a reply I wrote to a young girl in London, Ontario who sent her questions and well wishes to deployed soldiers and sailors. The message appears on a Canadian Military Message To The Troops website. I hope to write soon - things have just been rather hectic here lately... as soon as the calm arrives after this storm of activity I will tell you all about it.

Rough Seas, Rougher Sleep!

2006-12-02T09:20:00.000-08:00

I went to bed last night simply to endure ridiculous tossing and turning as the boat raced through the waters. I was left cursing the young officer at the helm who was, no doubt, driving her like he stole her, cause “Daddy” wasn’t watching. Judging by the irritated sighs and mumbles coming from the curtains of my fellow mess mates, I wasn’t the only one trying to get some sleep, or simply keep from falling out of my cart (bed). The frustration stemmed from the fact that we were back to patrolling in “the box” and there was no reason for this sort of speed or maneuvering unless we were on our way to investigate another suspected terrorist involved boat. That’s when the pipe was made over the main broadcast for the SAR Team to muster in the Wardroom. This is our ship’s “Search And Rescue” team. Uh, oh! I was left lying there for the next 5 minutes wondering what the heck was going on and if I had heard the pipe correctly. The next voice that broke the silence was the XO’s urgent and worry filled voice telling the crew that we were racing towards an Indian cargo ship that had sent out a distress call as it was taking on water quickly. We were about half an hour away from their position, so this explained the crazy driving and speed. When our ship arrived, the Indian vessel was already sitting with 5 feet of water in her belly and was quickly taking on more. I was told that the ship was made of a wooden hull that had suffered a few boards splitting on her. We quickly sent out our boarding team along with various flood fighting tools and pumps. The rest of the crew rushed about preparing for the possible arrival of ship-less sailors, gathering blankets, food and warm drinks. Our boys put up a good fight, but in the end it was realized that we were only succeeding in delaying the inevitable. The decision was made to evacuate the ship and all of her 18 personnel. After about 1 hour of escaping the sinking mass, the ship turned over and quickly gave up her fight, swallowed by the oceans waves in the pitch-black night. It was really quite eerie to watch this ship go under and realize how easily the roles could have been reversed. We now had 18 men who barely spoke English in our care, as the red tape tango began between our ship and the various governments ashore. It is really a rather extensive endeavor to attempt to gain permission to land rescued sailors. Paperwork must all be in order, and we must ensure we do not enter any territorial waters without the express permission of the Country in question. Come 4 in the afternoon, after much communication with government officials and lots of Canadian hospitality, the Coast Guard picked up the Indian crew. I think I speak for all of us onboard when I say that we all are feeling a sense of pride and purpose after this endeavor. These are 18 real lives that we managed to save just by being out here. To me, this victory holds more water than all the patrolling and boardings thus far. I feel like we really are making our country proud. So yes, in case you were as worried as my Mom was, I am in a much better mood than I was when I wrote my last post. Since I wrote “Sailing Blahs” I have received enormous support both from readers and from fellow sailors onboard, who all agreed that I had not crossed any lines and should keep writing. I am also feeling much refreshed after my 3 days off in Muscat, Oman… fortunately the effects of which have not yet worn off. So, please check in for my telling of my Muscat port adventures! Until then, thank you for all the support guys… it’s kept my spirits up and given me the strength to keep on typing.

"Sailing Blahs"

2006-11-22T08:50:00.000-08:00

Today is one of those days where you feel like you would get further ahead if you were to slam your head into a brick wall successively. Where no matter what your efforts, the day just seems destined to be tallied in the “less than enjoyable” column. I am experiencing what I have coined the “sailing blahs.” It seems to be a rather common infliction that each sailor experiences at one time or another during an extended period of land deprivation. Its symptoms may include, but are not limited to, such things as an unexplainable discontent with one’s surroundings and fellow shipmates, difficulty sleeping or accepting one’s menial daily taskings, and loss of appetite or purpose. Sufferers are recognizable by their solemn demeanor and incessant complaining. In some extreme cases, infected individuals may be overcome by rage, the need to inflict pain on others, or uncontrollable sobbing. It is a strange experience, really. I think it is perhaps the closest my male counterparts will ever come to understanding the plight of a hormonal female. The shame of it is, the day started off with a collection of warm fuzzies. I had received a couple of kind words of encouragement from anonymous Moms of Sailors who have read my entries. I was feeling particularly optimistic and was eager to start on my next writing project when I encountered the last unopened email. There is no delicate way to say this, so I’m just going to say it: “I’m being CENSORED!” A senior member of the crew had read my Blog, shared that he enjoyed it, but reminded that I need to be very careful with what I tell the “world.” True, very true. However, I couldn’t help but be spun off course spinning towards an ugly, ill-fated destination. It felt like my one chance to write, my form of therapy, was being mutilated and stifled. That I could no longer paint a believable picture to all of you, for fear that what I wrote might be misconstrued in a plethora of possible interpretations. This left me to wonder, whose responsibility is that really? I have faith that the people who chose to read this will take it for face value – cause honestly, there isn’t much to pick up on between the lines, save what kind of a mood I was in when I typed it out… which, in case you were curious, is in a perpetual state of Gravol induced euphoria (me and sea states above one don’t see eye to eye). This might also explain the misuse of words or their spelling at times. My desire is to portray what life during this trip is like through my eyes and senses. It may not be the most interesting of accounts, but unfortunately, sailing isn’t always exciting – it’s mostly just a whole lot of waiting and if you’ve ever seen the movie “Groundhog Day” then you get the picture. The point is that I will continue to try to give you the stories without incriminating anyone or giving away all our “secrets” – not that I am privy to them anyway. I have calmed down since this morning… thanks to the sound of the keys clicking beneath my anxious fingers. I have decided to take the advice as a friendly reminder (as I am sure it was originally intended) and continue to write how I feel and what occurs during these next few months. Thank you for listening. Hopefully things will be brighter tomorrow :)

Two Candles. One Flame. PART THREE

2006-11-21T09:43:00.000-08:00

The evening arrived and with it came the promise of serene relaxation and decadent pampering at the therapeutic hands of the Sereno Spa staff. My frazzled nerves we’re in desperate need of a calmer atmosphere and my “ship wrecked” body was crying out for some quality massage time. I indulged with a spa pedicure and full body massage. My toes have to be the cutest Engineering toes in the Navy, thanks to the primping and painting they received, and the massage border-lined a spiritual experience. This was no Singapore “are-you-sure-my-back-is-supposed-to-bend-that-way” massage. I was on the receiving end of a complete body harmonizing kneading of the palms. I’m thinking this is going to have to become a ritual for me, as I am finding myself getting used to this sort of extravagance… I finally understand why so many people make spa appointments as regularly as they visit their hair stylists. The only real problem with my Indian Experience, was that it all had to end with a return water taxi trip to my waiting place of employment. My tiny rack just doesn’t seem as inviting as it once did. And no amount of bounce sheet sniffing can relax me as much as that luxurious spa massage did. The silver lining though, lies just over those next few waves. As each Thursday Steak Night comes and passes, we near our next port; with all its own hidden secrets and adventures ready for the finding. Okay, so it looks like I didn’t manage to really break this telling into very even parts, but I can’t think of anything else to add.

Two Candles. One Flame PART TWO

2006-11-17T08:19:00.000-08:00

An extravagant fountain and circle driveway invited us into the large, airy reception area where Kord & I were seated and served fresh squeezed orange juice. (Kord will be playing the part of India partner-in-crime and general bodyguard in this port. He is a Master Seaman Electrician onboard.) We were then escorted to our rooms, through a gorgeous courtyard past all sorts of ponds and fountains. My room was unbelievable! The bathroom was the same size as the bedroom and the patio viewed an enclosed pond dotted with fuchsia lily pad flowers and small fish. I unpacked my stuff and told Kord I’d meet him in about an hour to explore the resort grounds, but first I was having a bath. The bathtub was advertised as a “sunken tub with fitted rain shower.” There were two tiled steps down into a tiled floor area of about 3 feet by 3 feet and about 2 feet deep. There was a facet for the tub, a detachable showerhead by the steps and fitted to the ceiling was a large rain showerhead. As if this wasn’t extravagant enough, a large dish of rose petals was provided along with an assortment of spa line lotions and potions. I was positively giddy. The Goa Park Hyatt Resort & Spa was like nothing I have experienced before. The only way to describe it is to say it was akin to being privileged enough to be upgraded to first class when flying home from Ontario to Vancouver… once you know how the other half live, it’s terribly hard to go back. The grounds included an Enchanted Forest, 25 acres of private beach, 9 different restaurants and lounges, a four-tiered swimming pool surrounded by loungers, archery, and the best Spa facilities in India. If your curiosity is peaked I suggest you Google it – the pictures do not lie. That night we headed down to the beach to get photos of the sunset and then ate at one of the traditional Goan cuisine restaurants, where I enjoyed a rice and chicken dish that was served in an earthen ware bowl with a tortilla sealing it – very yummy. Unfortunately, shortly after dinner I became quite nauseous and had to retire to my cool, crisp king size sheets. As it turns out, I not only fall to the mercy of the seas, but am also prone to reverse motion sickness. In essence I was now “land sick.” But, pukey or not, I was in India and was going to make the most of it. Kord and I arranged to have a car take us on a tour of the sights for the following morning and booked ourselves pedicures and full body massages for the evening. The tour began with visiting the downtown Panaji markets, which were crowded and bursting at the seams with people. Due to my illness, the combination of humidity, noise, and pungent incenses it made for a less than fruitful shopping experience. But I was a trouper and managed to follow Kord into every little shop and alleyway vendor. We then went north from Panaji to visit the Basilica of Bom Jesus where the remains of St. Francis Xavier are displayed. He wasn’t much taller than me, displayed in an ornate glass case – kind of creepy really… he sort of looked like a mummy sans the wrappings. I did lay a wreath at the monument as an offering to St. Francis and lit two candles that burned a single flame for Opa Tony and my brother Nic. For the time I was there, my land-sickness left me. Coincidence? The tour continued, but I had to lay down in the back seat because I was not feeling the greatest. To be fair, I’m sure it wasn’t completely the driver’s fault, but the quick jerks of that steering wheel, and moments of sheer terror when faced with oncoming traffic and no way of merging back into our own lane due to either the free-roaming cattle or large trucks he was trying to pass, certainly didn’t help my tummy. We managed to make it in one piece, with my breakfast where it belonged, to a beautiful Hindu Temple hidden among the tree just off the main road. We didn’t venture inside, because we would have been required to remove our shoes and socks and enter barefoot – just trust me when I say this wasn’t the most tantalizing option. So we wandered around the temple snapping off photos and enjoying the sun on our faces. The strangest thing happened as we were returning to the car though… I was approached by a girl in her early teens dressed in traditional Indian attire complete with henna designs painted on her hands. She asked me repeatedly, “Picture? Picture?” I was confused, as we were having no problems taking photos on our own. After a few awkward moments it suddenly dawned on me, “You want to take a picture with ME?!” Sure enough, there was her parents holding a 35mm camera smiling away, telling their daughter to take off her hat so she would look nice for the picture – at least that’s what I took it to mean. We smiled and Kord managed to take one too, although I’m surprised it turned out considering he was laughing so hard. We thought about it after and decided it was maybe because I was the only white woman there, so maybe I was some sort of a novelty? To add to the jokes that ensued from Kord, prior to exiting the vehicle at the Temple, the driver explained that I shared my first name with a very famous Indian actress – you were right Mom, I was meant to be famous, just not in Canada! My head returned to the vinyl back seat as we weaved our way in and out of traffic to the Spice Farm. On our arrival we were wreathed with marigold flower leis and showered with tiny orange petals. We sipped on lemongrass tea and then promptly were whisked away on the start of our spice tour. We viewed such things as nutmeg, vanilla, saffron, bananas, coffee, curry, and cloves all growing amoungst the bamboo and palm jungle. I was feeling completely in tune with nature and all her beauty, even my upset stomach was starting to ease up. There is a saying that there is always a calm before the storm… well, I walked unknowingly right into a full onslaught, and it all started with someone shouting, “Whoa, check out the spider in the tree!” Now, this wasn’t a typical spider, nor was it “in the tree.” This evil little bastard was about the size of my face, without a single hair on its shiny black spindly body, and it’s long, segmented legs where outstretched on its huge web about 2 feet from my head – which I can assure you feels a whole lot closer when you are under it. And he had friends… MANY friends all perched along the path. Fitting really considering it was Halloween and I was now freaking out. Just when I thought my crawling skin had taken all that it could our path crossed with an elephant. Now I came to the Spice Farm with the original intention to ride an elephant, maybe even bathe one – like the brochure promised - but when I came face to face with that huge grey mass I started to cower. I’m not sure if my nerves were just fried from all the spider dodging, or if I really was intimidated by the elephant. But the first thought my active imagination conjured up was me perched atop the elephant, smiling and laughing in spite of myself, as we stomped through the jungle. When suddenly the elephant hears a twig snap, startles and starts trotting quickly down one of the paths. Now all I can think about is how if I was sitting on that elephant my face would be at the perfect height to smash into each one of those spiders dangling in their webs, me screaming bloody murder, only succeeding in further agitating the frightened beast, propelling him faster threw the spider maze. Perhaps this was a bit overboard, but you didn’t see the spiders – I couldn’t even bring myself to take a picture of them (that was Kord’s job). I didn’t want to be a spoilsport though so I volunteered to have my picture taken with the elephant at the last possible opportunity. Now, remember I said we were given flower leis when we first arrived at the spice farm? I figured out what purpose they served. It made the tourists that much more appealing as tasty sacrifices to one of the largest mammals in the animal kingdom. The elephant (which was apparently a female, and thus smaller in size – whatever!) was instantly intrigued by my flower garland and tried to snatch them from my chest with its trunk. To which the elephant boy began yelling commands and whacking it in the chest. I’m thinking, “Great! That’s it, really piss it off when I’m standing here helpless in front of it.” Well we got the picture, and I am contorting my body at an impossible angle trying to be close, but not close to the elephant with this cross between a pained and terrified “smile” on my face. The ever-sympathetic Kord was again laughing at me. I think I need new friends. The spice tour ended with local dishes for lunch, I stuck to the bread to try to calm my belly, but was persuaded to try a fresh picked banana – fantastic! And yes, I was neurotic enough to check it twice for spiders.

Two Candles, One Flame. PART ONE

2006-11-14T04:41:00.000-08:00

I suppose I have kept you all in suspense for long enough, and since free time is a bit scarce lately, now is as good a time as any to try to recap my Goa, India experience. “Experience” was a word not chosen lightly… allow me to elaborate. Our ship came to anchor off the coast of Goa, known as the “Jewel of India” for a 4 day port visit, allowing for some much needed R & R time for the crew. We were not the only ship that felt safer anchoring out in the bay, versus tying up alongside at this particularly heavy industrial harbor. To give you a rough idea of just how many other vessels where bobbing around us; at night if you were to venture to the upper decks for some fresh air and star gazing, you’d think you were surrounded by the city lights of Goa. All travel from the ship to shore was via a shoddy looking water taxi, which I was informed moonlighted as a garbage barge, goat transport and grocery delivery boat. The water taxi ride was a comical and sometimes nerve-wracking shuttle of 45 minutes through the bays somewhat calm waters. We were whisked past such tourist-envious sites as the cargo embarkment jetties, fishing boat docks, and an offshore oil rig refurbishment project. Don’t worry, I got plenty of pictures. :) I decided to tag along with a number of my fellow Stokers to relax at their hotel and unwind from a long sail and its occasional rough seas. We caught the ship’s hired van into Panaji to hire a cab and make our way out to the hotel, which was about 20 minutes north of Panaji. The moment we got out of the van beggars and locals trying to sell us everything from knock-off Dolce & Gabbana handbags to peacock feather fans swarmed us. I was pretty much stunned and confused. I didn’t know how to react to all the arms and “Miss, Miss-es” that I was being bombarded with. Thankfully, one of the bigger sailors took this as a cue that I needed to be shoulder carried out of there and fast. I was asked by a number of the women hawkers which male one was my husband… apparently they figured they would have better results haggling with the “wallet.” I couldn’t resist the temptation of passing the buck and quickly nominated the stoker standing next to me. Whew, fresh air and room to move around and take in my surrounds a bit. Dirty, would only start to scratch the surface of the place. Lots of free roaming dogs and cows – which are believed to be sacred, thus are not required to follow street signs or proper defecating etiquette in their fenceless existence. The streets were lined with open fruit, fish & meat markets and peppered with wooden furniture and coconuts straight from the tree for sale by machete wielding sellers. This was going to be an experience to say the least. We shook off the open hands and merchandise-displaying bodies and managed to pile into a couple of taxis. The driving rules in India are deciphered with little less effort than trying to understand quantum physics. But I think I narrowed it down to these few key points: 1. Cows have the right of way, ALWAYS. 2. Try to spend the majority of your time on the left-hand side of the road. 3. The smaller and slower you are, the less rights you have. (Meaning: if you are in a truck everyone will move for you; if you are in a car, you win unless there is a truck; if you’re in a scooter, as long as you can squeeze past go for it; and if you are a pedestrian, God help you) Another interesting curve is the lack of legal enforcement for helmets on motorcycles and scooters. I watched a family of five zoom past us on a scooter, with only Dad wearing a helmet – yikes! My taxi excursions in New York paled in comparison to this bum-cheek squeezing adventure. I don’t think any of us breathed, or let our eyes wander too far from the windshield during that white knuckled ride. The key, I discovered, to truly experiencing India is to look at it through completely different eyes. Your North American eyes will deceive you into quickly judging and dismissing India and all her treasures. The eyes you use in Canada will only see dirt, disease, poverty and unbearable, crowded living conditions. But if you try to look through an Indian’s eyes you will discover that India simply moves to a rhythm all her own and the melody can be quite enticing. The people are friendly, the landscape is lush and filled with jungle vegetation and flowers, and rich colour is everywhere. Be it in the gorgeous worn silks, the exotic blossoms, or the reddish hued sunsets on the Arabian Sea. I booked a night’s stay at the Park Hyatt Goa Resort & Spa for the third night, which was located just south of Panaji. I was told by the High Commissionaire of Canada and the Military Defence Attaché, David and Garry, that I would love the hotel as that was where they were staying as well. It wasn’t until we were pulling up to the guarded gate though, that I truly allowed myself to believe this place would not be a faded version of the internet photos I had put so much stock into.