Mexico 2010 - Part 1 - Oaxaca City

Oaxaca –

In case you were unfamiliar, Mexico is actually the United Mexican States, or in Spanish “Estados Unidos Mexicanos”. There are 31 states, of which Oaxaca is one. Oaxaca is hard to get to as it is surrounded by mountains and ocean. Because of this, Oaxaca was and still is virtually ignored by the rest of Mexico. This allowed Oaxaca to develop their culture, food, crafts, and politics quite independently from other influences. Of course, being ignored also made them one of the poorest and more illiterate states in the country. This is especially true for the Indian populations, many of whom still speak their native language and do NOT speak Spanish. The two major native groups in Oaxaca are the Zapotec and Mixtec, though there are approximately 14 other unique indigenous groups in Oaxaca with distinct languages and cultures. The people of Oaxaca make some of the most beautiful and world-renowned crafts in Mexico. We are not talking kitsch here. They also have great coffee, wonderful chocolate, and tons of moles (food sauces, not rodents), and a lot of headache producing Mezcal, similar to tequila.

The City –



Ciudad Oaxaca is a beautiful city, and as I’ve seen in all my Mexico travels, a city of contradictions. You cannot throw a stick without hitting a 16th century cathedral, whether crumbling, or fully restored, or somewhere in between. All are full places of worship, so you must pay attention when taking pictures so as not to disrespect the more pious visitors. (Grant and I forgot that people like to go to church on Saturdays as well as Sundays. Oops.) Despite the grand architecture and bold blooming flowers and gardens, these beautiful cathedrals are surrounded by crumbling buildings and homes patched together with scrap tin, with very visible poverty at the entrances to all these important Catholic establishments.

In my opinion, the most beautiful cathedral in Oaxaca, which can be seen from our panoramic view above and from is Catedral Santo Domingo.



According to the Wikipedia, it took 200 years to build, starting in the mid 1500’s. It also now contains a great cultural museum. Though it is a huge tourist draw, the Church itself is not a museum, and is still used for worship.







We even saw a huge traditional wedding in it. We are assuming they were from a very elite Oaxaca family, as it seems like it would be very cost-prohibitive to rent this huge, colonial Cathedral for the average Joe.




The main Catedral de Oaxaca lies at the base of the Zocalo (every town has a Zocalo, which is the town square and center of social and cultural activity). It is pretty cool, only built in the early 1700’s as the first couple churches were destroyed in earthquakes.





Typical night on the Zocolo

We saw several other Cathedrals, most stumbled upon while strolling the streets. As a recovering Catholic, I was afraid I would be struck down by lightning, so did not linger.




Oaxaca has a lot of great regional food, but also has a lot of creative and international options. Funny enough, like the rest of us in our own home towns, locals like to venture out to try other cuisines too, LOL. It’s ok. Don’t feel bad if you eat a little pizza and have a glass of wine while visiting international cities like Oaxaca. Really, there are only so many tacos and quesadillas one can eat in three weeks!

THIS:

PLUS THIS:


EQUALS: MEZCAL!

By the way, did I mention how safe I felt in the city? Keep in mind ladies, wherever you are in the world especially Mexico, always dress conservatively. I.E., it’s best to wear pants or long skirt and avoid tank tops. Shorts are for the beach. Also, swallow your feminist pride, and pretend your boyfriend is your husband, try not to venture out in the evening without him or your best friend, and always smile and be polite (except when saying a strong “no” to unwelcome men trying to lick your hand), and you will largely avoid unwanted advances and Machismo, or angry looks from the grandmothers. Keep in mind, men, that no matter how tough you think you are, there are certain bars you just do not go into. They are easy to tell because on Sunday mornings, they are crowded with loud drunk men, and you cannot see into them. By following these little rules, Grant and I have largely avoided trouble in conservative Latin American countries.

This is just an introduction. I will talk about the crafts and coast of Oaxaca in the next post, and also offer up a tid-bit of the relaxing drinking part of our vacation on the Carribbean coast of the Yucatan Peninsula in the state of Quintana Roo(probably the best name for a state ever).

Cheers.

"Best Day Ever", or "How I Became a Baby-Person Convert, Sort Of"

PROLOGUE:

The week Grant and I returned from New Zealand, I met my best friend for coffee at her new house. She made a pot, poured me a cup, then poured herself an ice-cold glass of…water. Before I could say anything she started explaining, “Ok ok. The reason I am not drinking coffee is because I’m pregnant. I wanted to wait a while longer before telling you, but I knew you would be suspicious that I wasn’t drinking coffee”. Ok. I just assumed she was all “coffee’d out” for the day, but was happy enough to hear the news. Congratulations!

EIGHT MONTHS LATER, THEREABOUTS

Let’s just say the little one was quite comfortable and in no hurry to meet this cold world. Despite waiting as long as they could, an induction was finally ordered, and the new due date set. After celebrating my dad’s birthday early on Wed, my parents drove me up to their house 15 hours into A’s labor, and I waited for news. The next morning, with no news, I carpooled into the hospital with my mom, who is a doctor there, so I could have her car for the day. At 0830 my mom walked me over to the birthing center, buzzed me in with her badge (I know. That’s cheating), and as we were looking for a nurse to ask about the labor, out walked the beaming Dad, proud grandparents and uncle pushing a cart. They whispered “look at the new baby”. I looked down and the little one took my breath away. The tears caught in my throat as I slowly began to comprehend who I was looking at. They invited me into the post delivery room to await Mommy. An hour or so later, after recovering a bit from the emergency C-section, in wheeled Mom, who just erupted into tears at the sight of her child. That brought Dad to tears, and everybody else in the room as well. They took the baby out of his pajamas, and laid him on her breast where he immediately went to work. It was the most intense, beautiful moment I have ever witnessed, and it will be with me for the rest of my life.

A few hours after the delivery, I left them with the promise of coming back later when they had time to rest and settle in. My dad called, who’s actual birthday was also that day, to say my uncle Jimmycakes had flown in with his four-year-old granddaughter to the local airstrip. We met for lunch, and Dad mentioned that I should go for a plane ride with my uncle. My first reaction was “Hell yeah, that would be awesome!” So after finishing my celebration beer, it was off to the airstrip to hop in a tiny Cessna with a person who’s skills were perhaps dubious, but hell. My cousin lets her child fly with him, so he must be a good ‘nuf pilot. So off we went. I was really excited as it was bringing back old skydiving memories. Plus, I had never seen my hometown from a low flying plane. Talk about a totally different perspective. I thought that this was the perfect way to celebrate life, and I got some pretty cool pictures too.

Anacortes, Rosario Strait, San Juan Islands

Swinomish Channel, North end looking south

LaConner, WA my home town. Rainbow bridge, south end of Swinomish Channel. Left side is the mainland, right side is Fidalgo Island.

Deception Pass

Deception Pass Bridge

The landing was pretty good, though my uncle said that the alarm just before we touched down was an indication we were going a touch too slow. This caused the landing to be a little harder than usual, not that I noticed. I don’t usually ride down with the plane anyway. Without further ado, they put the child car seat back up front, strapped my cousin’s daughter in, and flew off into the sunset.

Back at the hospital, my friend looked a lot better. The baby was still guzzling from his nature-provided “juice box”. When he was done, they let me hold him for about an hour. He just slept, all swaddled up like a mummy in my arms. What felt like a small little bundle at first, soon grew heavy, and I was utterly amazed all 9lbs 9.8oz, and 22inches had been residing inside my best friend 9 hours earlier. Boy is she tough! Toughest lady I’ve ever met. (Her husband didn’t pass out, so he’s pretty tough too…for a guy.)

I would consider January 28, 2010 one of the best days of my life, so I can only imagine how my best friend feels. Never having been a baby person, I was totally unprepared for the waves of emotion that came over me that day. I feel privileged to have been there, and thank A and J for letting me into their lives that day.

Here’s to living the good life!



p.s. Happy Birthday Dad!

"Winter in Alaska", or "They Don't Pay Me Enough for this Shite"

Since we lost several ships to other ports, the core of Grant and my jobs out of Seattle/Tacoma are on the domestic runs either to Hawaii, and more significantly, Alaska. In 2009 I worked exclusively on the Alaska run. Though I had been invited back to “my” ship several times since my first trip the spring of 2007, I have been hesitant to due to the a really bad day I described in a previous post. The truth is, I can’t turn down work if I’m going to pay my mortgage and eat. And also, truth be told, these ships going to Alaska are pretty good pay. I also really like the people I work with on this particular ship. They have become the closest to “family” I have had on any of these ships, and there is a lot of camaraderie amongst we Alaska-run people.

In many ways the run to Anchorage, Kodiak, and Dutch Harbor is not particularly difficult as there is very little traffic, we get home a few times a month, and everybody speaks English. But in many ways, this run is much more difficult than picking your way through thousands of fishing boats or arguing with Shanghai pilots as they light a cigarette while colliding head on with an outbound ship.

The reason it is harder?

THE WEATHER SUCKS. Especially in November and April. Not to mention December, January, February, and March, and often May and June… When I joined the ship this last time, around Halloween, my watch partner started speculating about the weather in November. He, and others, mentioned that the really bad storms come with the transition seasons, particularly fall turning into winter, and winter turning to spring. I already experienced April/May with the worst day of my career back in 2007, and November 2009 also did not disappoint.

A day out of the Straits (Strait of Juan de Fuca, entrance to the Puget Sound, aka, the body of water that makes Washington State look funny, and separates the Olympic Peninsula from Vancouver Island, Canada) we found ourselves going straight into winds upwards of 50 knots with 40 foot seas. That’s about the height of my apartment building. We slowed down through the night to avoid pounding, to the point where we were in hand steering going 4 knots, basically hove to. We were not rolling much, as we were heading into the seas, but we had to be very careful, as the seas could punch the containers in, and we could risk incredible damage to our hull.

Same storm as the first picture

Our stern was completely underwater. We had a fire alarm go off in a space on deck, so we had to stop, and turn around about 90 degrees to make a lee for the Chief Mate to investigate. No fire, but the mate was able to snap this photo.

Last season large seas crumpled our huge steel breakwater like an old credit card bill. This year we tried to avoid that kind of damage.

Breakwater. The left side should not be creased like that

More bent steel on the back of the breakwater

Closeup look at crumpled steel.

We only punched in three containers, which is a miracle:




After seas like this:

Large seas like this actually break in the middle of the ocean. I wouldn't try surfing these though

When these 30ft+ seas break, they break containers too!

I never felt like I was in real danger like on other ships and other storms, but it definitely wasn’t pretty, and as little sleep as I got, the Captain hadn’t slept in days. He literally spent all day and night on the bridge. Ok, I know what your next question is going to be: “Isn’t the Captain always on the bridge anyway?” No! The Captain is not a watch stander. I am the Officer In Charge of the Navigation Watch, and the Captain is available when extra help is needed like in heavy traffic, or when transiting especially hairy pilotage areas. When the Captain is on the bridge all the time on the open ocean it means one of three things:(1) He is really obnoxious, (2) you are a crappy mate and he doesn’t trust you, or (3) the shit has hit the fan (or could if we are not careful). I assure you our Captain is not obnoxious nor does he think I'm a crappy mate. Because he was so dedicated to maneuvering the ship safely through the storm for days, we escaped major damage to the cargo, ship, and crew.


When not in huge North Pacific storms, the weather and other environmental factors in Alaska make it difficult to work. In Anchorage, it gets really, really cold. Cook Inlet around Anchorage gets ice anywhere from before October and into April, May, and beyond. The worst of course is in the dead of winter, when the Coast Guard institutes Ice Rules for shipping. These rules basically mean that the pilot and/or Captain must be aboard at all times, engines ready to go, and extra lines put out. The ice can, and has, gotten between the ship and dock and torn them off the dock. Ice doesn’t compress very well.

Ice. Not recommended between ship and dock.

When we are docking, we actually have to put the bow on the dock at an angle and either let the current move all the ice out of the way, or get a tug to come over and swish all the ice out with it’s prop, before we can come alongside.This makes for long, cold tieups. It sucks working outside for 8 hours in -20 degrees Fahrenheit (not Celsius. If only it were Celsius).

In addition to the ice, Anchorage has the second largest tidal range in the world. It regularly changes by 30 feet in a matter of six or seven hours. Again, that’s about the height of my apartment building. So picture sitting in your boat, or 700ft container ship, and suddenly finding yourself 30 feet higher a few hours later. It is as crazy as it sounds.This makes for a lot of unique problems while docking.

When docking soon after low tide, I literally cannot see the dock. I send my mooring lines UP instead of down like at most docks. I must rely on the Captain on the bridge looking down to tell me by radio when my spring lines are on the bollard. Also, the lines will get pinched between the dock and ship, so they often have to pull the ship off the dock in order for me to pull the lines tight, so we are flat alongside the dock. Confusing, no? The biggest safety issue while docking at such a low tide is that you don’t get your fingers, or head, caught between the ship and the dock stringers. Scary? Yes. Dangerous? Yes. It’s hard to describe, so hopefully these pictures help.

Nearly low tide. At high tide this deck is above the top of the dock. Here I am looking up 20 feet to the dock. Notice the yellow dock stringers? On the stern, if you stick your head out at the gaps, then the ship moves forward, you can be decapitated. Luckily, we have avoided that so far.

The large tides require this unique gangway. At high tide, the center of the gangway rests on the ship's helo deck. At low tide, it is a long, steep hike up and down. This helo deck is a deck above the main deck pictured above.

From the stern, low tide looking up 20-30 feet to the bollard

So after surviving the storms, the ice, and the tidal range of Anchorage, it’s off to Kodiak.

Blizzard outside Marmot Strait on the way to Kodiak. Zero visibility is not always due to fog!

In Kodiak our dock is not protected by a natural or man made breakwater, so our ship surges off the dock, even on a calm day. I mentioned before that my first trip up in 2007, we had a particularly bad day with high winds and a large surge, and we parted 8 lines. When a mooring line parts, if you are caught in the middle, you will be cut in half, and this does happen on occasion. The energy of the line parting can knock you down if you are near, even if the line itself does not hit you. I had a guy that was hit by a line not parting, but just slipping around the capstan, and the force of it broke his wrist in several places, and broke his hip. I had to call for an ambulance, get him into a safe place, and give him first aid. He was in so much pain that he though he had been cut in half. It was very scary, and the worst day of my career. I am very gun-shy around mooring lines now, especially in Kodiak.

Dutch Harbor does not have a surge, ice, or cold temperatures as Anchorage, but it does get hit by very large storms. Luckily we missed the storm that did this:

Gusts up to 125 mph knocked this huge gantry crane over at the APL dock in Dutch Harbor early December. Horizon Lines is servicing APL ships for now. They own an extra crane in this port and may sell it to APL, but it will still be a huge, expensive process no matter how you look at it.

Now that I am safely home, drinking my coffee in my pajamas, I can look at this two-month tour of duty as a success. Nobody was hurt, I made a few bucks, and I’m going to Mexico. Uno mas cerveza por favor!

Here is some really cool sea smoke, which I had never seen before!

It's cold, but we're still here!!!

                       Approach to Kodiak, AK

Well, this isn't a real blog post, but I wanted to check in with everybody.  I'm enjoying an adult beverage in Anchorage, where it is a balmy 34 degrees.  It was so warm I had to take a layer off while running around on deck.  Today I realized I have been on this Alaska run too long because I now consider anything in the low 30's to be warm.  We had about 6 hours daylight today, though as we are past solstice, the days are getting longer.  Traveling North from Seattle, the days are always getting shorter this time of year, so I don't notice this supposed phenomenon.  I don't know how the Alaskans do it.  The bitter cold, the darkness, the isolation.  They all seem pretty cheerful and like good people, so who's to say?  Then again, I'm in a brewery, so that might explain things!

November was a dreadful month, but as soon as fall turned into winter, the weather started cooperating with us...Though some other ships and docks didn't fare as well.  

Stay tuned.  Next week I'll fill you in on all my sea stories with plenty of gnarly pictures to boot.  Thanks for keeping up with the blog!


                    Anchorage, AK (that's ice in the water)

p.s.  As per usual, Grant shipped out right before I was due to come home.  Luckily it was only a month relief, so we'll catch up with each other in a few weeks.  Besides my sea stories, we have a lot going on in the next few months:  My best friend is due with her (and all of our) first baby, Grant has some skiing in Jackson Hole to do, and we are planning a trip to Mexico with Grant's and my favorite sister and brother-in-law, with a bit of Missouri thrown in for good measure. Life is wonderful!  (like I said, I'm in a brewery :)

Winter At Sea (Rougher Than You Think!)

Yikes!!


                 Here Be Monsters


Well it’s winter in the North Pacific Ocean and that means nasty weather. You know how when you’re watching the weather channel and they say the storm moved safely out to sea? Just remember that there are sailors out at sea in that storm. And guess what? ‘Safely out to sea’ for the landlubber means dangerously heavy weather imminent for the sailor. So let’s just think a safe thought for those caught in heavy weather at sea this winter.


      Actually a pretty nice day for those on the Ship


Robin sent me an email from her ship describing horrifying seas and high winds. I’ve been in some heavy weather myself and it makes my stomach churn thinking about being in those conditions.




                    Weeee(puke)eeee!?


Imagine not being able to sleep yet having to work anyway. In terms of watchstanding mates, they generally work 4 hours watchstanding on and 8 hours off. So you stand on the highest weatherproof deck of the ship(the Bridge) and monitor the ship’s progress to your destination. The bridge is the apex of the pendulum and so the motion is very exaggerated – when the ship rolls, the people on the bridge have the most motion. It can be so bad that you literally have to hold on to the rails and not move for fear of being flung across the bridge to violent and painful effect. Many have sustained broken bones in just such circumstances!

                                                              Rollin'

So you can barely stand. And you certainly can’t get any sleep because you’re constantly tossed out of your bunk. And all of your coworkers haven’t slept either. No one has any patience. Tempers are quick and short. A simple task of making coffee or filling out a logbook becomes extremely difficult. You begin to wonder what the hell you’re doing out here in this inhospitable environment? Oh right. People in Alaska need their plastic walmart toys for the holidays. Wait, that’s not too fair. They really do need their groceries too. But I really don’t want to die. And this ship is old. Can we really withstand this weather? Is it worth it? Sometimes I really think they aren’t paying me enough for this crap…..

And never forget the awesome power of nature at sea. There are no words to express how powerful the ocean is. Even when you see it and experience the ocean in it’s power you cannot comprehend how immense and devastating it can be.


    Why did they stow everything strewn about the deck?

Containers out on deck are stove in from the power of the waves. Many containers are lost overboard every year due to heavy weather. There are ways to avoid the worst of the storms in terms of navigating around them. But guess what? That adds time and distance to your voyage. And you’re on a schedule remember? The Captain is responsible for the safety of the crew, the ship, and then the cargo. There is quite a bit of pressure from the ‘bigwigs’ sitting safely in their climate-controlled offices urging the ship to remain on the schedule. So if you slow down due to heavy weather or try to sail around the storms the office yells at you for being late. I think every one of the ‘bigwigs’ should have to spend one winter voyage at sea to experience the danger and appreciate the conditions the sailors must endure to remain on schedule.




                       Whoopsy!


The KAUAI Bridge portholes blown out from a wave. Note the overhead was destroyed too!

So next time you casually walk into a store and nonchalantly grab a cheap plastic item off the shelf or even a fresh piece of fruit from some faraway land remember that some hard working sailor has endured possibly some horrifying seas and sleepless nights of hard work and determination to bring you these items.


      I just want to go home now

It is not thrilling and exciting to be at sea in this very rough weather. It is terrifying.
Enjoy your Christmas toys; thank your favorite sailor today!

More to Wyoming than I knew

More Moose pictures....Anybody like nursing babies?

'nuf said

As much as I sing praises for Jackson Hole and Yellowstone, I have always had a dim view of the rest of Wyoming. To me it is sagebrush and Halliburton (why do you think “Dick” C. calls this home?), and I detest driving across it. I have seen a few highlights outside the Hole, namely Devil’s Tower and hiking in the Wind River Range, but for the most part I have nothing nice to say. And really, if you stick to I-80, any road leading to Casper, and I-90, you will probably agree it is a miserable place.

Recently we had the opportunity to visit good friends who made the great escape from the fast-paced-long-commutes-keeping-up-with-the-Jones’s life of Jackson Hole, to a more normal family-friendly life in Sheridan. Now, the thing about Sheridan is that you can’t get there from here. Look at the map, and you see there are several mountain ranges, winding roads that don’t point in the right direction, and 12 months of snow. Lots of snow (not actually on the map, unless you dropped it in the snow). In fact, from November to May, most roads through Yellowstone are closed. It’s times like these that you keep your fingers crossed that Togwotee pass is open. If it’s not, it’s time to crack open another Pabst at Phil’s Tavern, call into work sick, throw another log on the fire and let the brown couch suck you in for the evening, ‘cause you’re not going anywhere. At least, not to Sheridan.

Luckily for us, Yellowstone was still open, and we had a break in the snow with a few days of weather above 40 degrees. It was downright balmy over in Sheridan! Three of us took off like a herd of turtles and decided to take the scenic route through Yellowstone. We exited the east side by Fishing Bridge, went over the Absaroka Mountains, stopped for a beer with the local color in Cody, and crossed the sagebrush of Wyoming through Powell and finally over the Bighorn Mountains on the Medicine Wheel Passage/Bighorn Mountain Scenic Byway to Sheridan. And boy was it scenic! I had no idea. None at all. Wyoming sure has some beautiful rocks! You can imagine the dinosaurs sitting in those rocks waiting to be found. Here’s some photos from more of that good ol’ scenic Wyo’. These photos don’t do the drive justice. There is much more to see.

Yellowstone Lake

Just Scratchin' my beard

On the way home we decided to check out the medicine wheel of the Bighorns. According to the google, it’s an old Indian ceremonial site that has some celestial alignments among the stones. In our tennis shoes, we took our hangovers for a three mile hike through the snow… and guess what? We couldn’t see the wheel because it too was buried in snow. Duh! But the views were great anyway.

The trail

Medicine Wheel National Monument

Edge of the world, Medcine Wheel, Wyo...

We were glad we made the trek even though it delayed our voyage. After all, you really only live once right? While the actual sight of the stones was lost beneath the snow, we could understand why it could be a significant location due to it’s beauty, remoteness, and solitude. It was a moment of reflection for both of us, despite our triflin’ atheistic ways.

There is much more to Wyoming than meets the eye. We feel lucky to have spent three months in NZ because it taught us to stop and smell the roses, so to speak, in our own backyard. Before NZ we would have driven right past the medicine wheel in our hurry to get to the next destination. Now we realize there are many beautiful things worth stopping to see right here in our own neck of the woods. And despite slowing down those few hours, we were still home before bedtime, and happier for it.