Ewercommon's Blog

THE FINAL FRONT YEAR

ewercommon — Thu, 27 May 2010 13:48:42 +0000

Thursday 27^th May 2010 – Bishops Rock to Southampton

The last day of any cruise is a mixture of conflicting sadness and pleasure. Firstly that it is ending and secondly pleasure at the thought of getting home to see the loved-ones. Many will stay on the ship and return to New York to complete the round trip while others will remain aboard sailing to and fro seemingly for ever until their money or their breath runs out. There are one or two permanent residents whose lives revolve around the Queen Mary 2 and its compass.

Tonight the London Symphony Orchestra – well 25 of them – will give two performances of the Last Night of the Proms. The passengers will be divided into groups, according to our seemingly fixed meal times. But the clamour to be at the very final performance is already unseemly. We have been issued with song-sheets, flags and whistles according to our nationalities. The Americans represent the largest group of passengers followed by the Australians and the Germans. The British, less than forty of us aboard, feature 19^th in the pecking order just before the Somalis. But that doesn’t stop the performance being mounted as “The Greatest Festival in the World.”

In the 1970/80s the BBC decided that the celebrations that mark the Proms last night concert were jingoistic and a celebration of war over our enemies. The anthem Rule Britannia was censored and the clap-along sea songs were changed into 5:4 time to make it impossible to clap in rhythm. Audiences around the world, particularly in Germany, thought differently and after a few years the BBC was forced to admit defeat. Tonight alongside Germans we will all sing Rule Britannia with gusto.

Today the world remembers World War II for real on this the 70^th anniversary of the small ships’ rescue of 300,000 men from the beaches of Dunkirk. Yesterday on board this ship, the Ocean going liner Queen Mary 2, we too remembered World War II for real. A Cunard wreath was laid at the site of the sinking of the MV Highland Patriot by a German U-boat. This small but significant ceremony was marked in the ship’s log to record the loss of three men from a crew of 143. One of those men, 23 year old 4^th Engineer Bill Barber, had he lived, would have become my step-father. His other relatives and families were brought to mind as we stood ‘far-aft’ at the very rear of the ship as close to the sea as safety would permit and cast the wreath into the deep. I’d like to think that both my adoptive mother and Bill himself were looking down on a very different North Atlantic from the one they remembered from WWII to witness the ceremony.

“At the going down of the sun
and in the morning we will remember them.”

So we approach the end of a five month journey. We left home in early January as the snows threatened to prevent us leaving and we return tomorrow – ‘nuts in May.’

From Southampton we sailed to Madeira; onward then across the Atlantic pausing in various places not least Barbados; then Aruba; Panama Canal; Acapulco; Zee-wat-anayo; San Francisco; Hawaii; Kiribati Christmas Island; Apia Island; New Zealand, north and south islands; Australia west, centre and east; cruising back through different Pacific Islands northwards to Vancouver; the Rocky Mountaineer Railway to Calgary and onto Toronto and New York then home to Southampton – oh! and a lot of other places in between.

It has been a voyage of discovery in many senses; discovery in ourselves, discovery in our geography. We discovered welcome relatives we had never met and didn’t even know about before we left Coventry. Other relatives, without whom we might never have left home at all, cared and nurtured us. Thank you rellies both abroad and in England who made it all possible! Finally, a word of thanks to the many Freemasons worldwide who have welcomed us to their hearts and homes. Freemasonry is not just a brotherhood but a ‘family-hood’ that we will never forget. The elephant never forgets.

HAPPY
farewell
DAZE

Not quite the end of cruising though – we are looking forward to a short maiden voyage on Cunard’s new ship ‘RMS Queen Elizabeth’ to be launched later this year. Thank you for reading all these blogs and for your kind – and not so kind but justified comments.

Ewer Common

DISCLAIMER NB: This blog is factional entertainment and may not reflect the situation as others may see it. All characters are intended to be fictional and fun. If it ain’t fun you’re not doin’ it right, said Grandma Ewer Common in the only talk she ever gave me on the facts of life.

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THE WREATH LAID ON QM2 – see Final Front Year

ewercommon — Thu, 27 May 2010 13:36:42 +0000

THE FINAL FRONT YEAR

ewercommon — Thu, 27 May 2010 13:17:26 +0000

Thursday 27^th May 2010 – Bishops Rock to Southampton

“At the going down of the sun
and in the morning we will remember them.”

So we approach the end of a five month journey. We left home in early January as the snows threatened to prevent us leaving and we return tomorrow – ‘nuts in May.’

HAPPY
farewell
DAZE

Ewer Common

NORTH ATLANTIC CONVOY …

ewercommon — Wed, 26 May 2010 00:20:00 +0000

MV Highland Patriot … Queen Mary 2 …

Tuesday 25th May 2010 – Queen Mary 2 – Waves 7.5feet – Barometer dropping.

Ship’s position 955 miles due south of Greenland – 45° 07 92N 033° 26 81W

1310 nautical miles to go before reaching Southampton at 22 knots per hour

It’s getting lumpy. We only know that by looking through a porthole. The ship is rock steady. The stabilisers are doing their job. We only know the waves are 7.5ft high because TV channel 38 is committed to telling us about life at sea inside and outside this wonderful ocean-going liner.

RMS Titanic: Last night we sailed over the position where the remains of the RMS Titanic lie on the ocean floor. Tomorrow, Wednesday 26^th May at MIDDAY ship’s time, 1400 hours, (2.00p.m. in the UK) we will pass close to the remains of the MV Highland Patriot that was sunk by a German U-Boat in 1940. A young engineer, Bill Barber, then aged 23, died along with other members of the ship’s crew. Had he lived he would have become my step-father. With the permission and the special arrangement of the Queen Mary’s captain, Commodore Bernard Warner, we will lay a wreath to Bill Barber’s memory. When the idea was first proposed it seemed easy enough to have a wreath made and cast it into the deep. But life and death are never simple. These days nothing, but nothing may be thrown into the sea from a ship that is not ecologically and environmentally pure. Accordingly the commitment to the deep had to be formally approved by the Cunard head office and the wreath itself made only of materials suitable for today’s seas. I am happy – and thankful – to say that Cunard have formally approved the laying of the wreath and tomorrow a small party will gather on a deck close to the waves to perform this simple ceremony on behalf of all his living relatives. Meanwhile we stare out to sea and try to imagine what it must have been like for that young, ambitious engineer looking forward to a lifetime at sea – a lifetime that would be cut so unexpectedly and cruelly short. See: Http://uboat.net/allies/merchants/ships/573.html for further information.

RADA: What is happening today in the North Atlantic? Young actors from the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (RADA) are instructing some thirty older fare-paying passengers on the techniques of becoming an actor. After warming-up exercises we concentrate on character building exercises, the fundamentals, the building-blocks of characterisation and the physicality of character. We imagine ourselves to be animals. Some of us take some convincing. It’s hard work learning to be an actor.

RETAIL USURY: Elsewhere Harding Bros., of Bristol who run the ship’s retail concessions have produced a range of cheap clothing, cheaper Chinese watches and gewgaws to attract parents but particularly grandparents who are driven to buy something, anything to take home. They feel a sense of guilt that they are living in a luxury that they wish their children could be sharing with them. It is like the first day of the sale at Selfridges. These ‘bargain’ ranges will only be available for two hours before they are replaced by higher-priced merchandise. It is blatantly purse and wallet manipulative but it is what the passengers want. One fears that when the young recipients get their presents they will be disappointed and would have preferred some cash to buy what they really want. But they won’t show it.

UPGRADES: Having somehow received favoured treatment with upgrades on previous ships that we weren’t expecting we arrived at the Queen Mary 2 fully prepared to book into a cabin that we had previously arranged i.e. in the bowels of the ship and much less expensive. But once again we have been upgraded. We have found ourselves enjoying a level of splendour that we certainly could not afford and undoubtedly do not deserve. We are living in a ‘gold’ stateroom and accordingly we have been invited to join the Commodore at a special cocktail party. We walked into the Queen’s Room fully expecting to be shown the door but instead we were plied with champagne, wines of many vintages and shrimp that is the very best obtainable. We were greeted personally by name and given a seat in the front row by the Commodore’s social secretary. We’re still keeping our heads down just in case. We are in elevated company that includes a man of 101 who is completing his 600^th tour on Cunard ships. He strode across the dance floor to receive a presentation from the President and Chief Executive of Cunard, Peter Shanks. So if we hang about for another 30 years or so we too might receive similar happiness. By the way at 101 years of age he still visits the Keep-fit gym every morning. Perhaps that’s what we’re doing wrong?

The QM2 has been a wonderful end to the holiday. His last journey began with a romantic departure from New York passing by the statue of Liberty in all her glory. Southampton is still three days away and as usual we are reminding ourselves that life is better if you concentrate on the journey rather than the destination. But we are looking forward to seeing friendly family faces once again.

Happy slow moving Daze

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A DAIRY QUEEN?

ewercommon — Mon, 24 May 2010 16:26:42 +0000

TORONTO, Canada 21^ST May 2010

Toronto is a splendid city that is improving all the time. There can hardly be a road that hasn’t been improved lately or one that isn’t dotted with road-works on its way to improvement. Builders’ cranes shape the city into a spiders-web of overhead activity. This is another city where the government appears to have found huge sums of tax payers’ money to challenge the recession. If you approve of Britain for its multicultural society you should try Toronto. Five mile wide areas have shop fronts identified only in their native Korean, Chinese, Urdu, Hindi, Bangladeshi and Arabic who together represent an impressive and colourful society in every sense; that is until the question of America, as Canada’s neighbour, is raised. There are many Canadians on board ship with us and dinner table conversations leave food cold as the er special relationship is debated.

I have come to the conclusion that the ‘special relationship’ with America, which is often mentioned in England, is about as sincere in Canada as it is in Europe. Canadians do not seem to like America anymore than the British do but we pretend to do so in the interests of power and both our economies. Of
course Americans as individuals are delightful dinner companions but in a group … if you want to
insult a
Canadian suggest that he/she is American. Unfortunately US-speak, spread by television, has penetrated Canada just as it has infected the rest of the world. ‘Haaave a niice day’ is the universal farewell even on the back of a former London bus.

Or you can just look around and witness the marvellous eccentricities that could only happen in Canada. This Asian lady driver emerged from a carpet warehouse that screamed “FREE DELIVERY” across it windows.

Restaurants and eateries all seem to be American with every internationally recognisable brand name – i.e. American – here to feed Canadian faces. But wait … McDonalds is here but differently identified. The Golden Arch is
everywhere but the
red McDonald M is clearly embossed with a maple leaf, the symbol of Canada, and it is the only country in the world to be accorded such a privilege by the all powerful McDonald franchisers. Canadians do have some power it seems.

They also have ice cream shops. When your mind is on other things, to be asked by a woman in a car park “Have you ever had a dairy queen” can cause some confusion until it emerges that she is talking about ice cream. The Dairy Queen range of ice cream shops takes some understanding. They are huge, offering a range of iced delicacies in open fridges that can run for 50 yards. However having sampled even their smallest offering you will be incapable of running even 50 yards. They are temples of obesity at which Canadians in their millions, worship daily but especially on weekends when their car parks are full of city lickers.

NIAGARA. You cannot visit Toronto without taking a trip to the Niagara Falls. Here too it is wise to avoid the tiresome procedures demanded by USA immigration authorities and stay on the Canadian side of the border. You may have to forego sailing under the falls on the expensive ‘Maid of the Mists’ boats that ply up and down from the US side but the views from Canada are infinitely superior.

(NB: Lake Superior is somewhere completely different; here you meet HOME , which is an acronym to help you remember the names of all the lakes that divide Canada from America. Er … Huron, Ontario, M …. Erie, as you see I’ve forgotten them already.) On the Canadian side you can walk under the falls and for a mere £12 you can descend in a lift, enjoy the extreme sensation of wetness and excitement that only Niagara can give and have your photograph taken for an extra £15. It’s an experience not to be missed.

Renewing your marriage vows here is one of those things you must definitely do before you die – but not die while you’re doing it, so watch your step.

TRAVEL. You may have read in a previous blog that we had a bit of a difficult time in Calgary with the airline search procedures; but in Toronto, what a difference. We arrived courtesy of our host who kindly drove us to the airport at 4.00am for a 6.30am flight, still 90 minutes flying time from the US border. Canada’s airway staff, following our flight from Calgary had, unasked, completed a passenger profile for us. Air Canada staff greeted us warmly at this unearthly hour, labelled our bags, declined to weigh them, did not charge for a third bag, provided personal transport and a porter to assist us and delivered us 20 yards away to …..AMERICAN IMMIGRATION staff. In Toronto passengers travelling to the USA are interrogated, finger-printed, electronically eyeballed by surly Americans and allowed into America while still, apparently on Canadian soil. It’s very odd. There can be few countries that allow immigration staff to work so far from their border. I can tell you it does not work the other way round, nor would America allow it.

FOOTNOTE: Many Canadians are proud of their British roots. But some of their conversations when overheard can be quite confusing. Eg Quote:

My Granny died at 94! Really? My Granny died at 132; she lived up the street from us! (OY!)

Or on the ship – a gently ageing Canadian lady to her husband:

“The sea looks lovely from here dear.”

“Yes and you can see it on both sides of the ship too.”

HAPPY DAZE ..

JUST ONE WEEK OF OUR MARATHON TRIP TO GO – QM2 next – cue SAILING BY.

I HAVEN’T HAD A PEE FOR 6 HOURS.

ewercommon — Wed, 19 May 2010 16:25:34 +0000

Sunday 16^th May 2010

The day didn’t start well. I fell out of bed. My partner was not cuddling me sufficiently. It’s the new custom-made mattresses installed at the Hotel in Calgary, they’re firm in the middle but soft on either side with ‘gentle’ edges. And the brand name for this fine example of durable mattress – ‘Procreative.’ I kid you not. NB Partners must cuddle!

I should have known something was up last night when we booked in at 10.30pm. The receptionist asked us how long we’d been married and on hearing it was 50 years this year then asked if we wanted a room with a double bed or three singles. Three singles? Yes three singles; just ready for you to take a grandchild with you on your next trip. It’s all to do with your profile. Profile? Ethnic profile? Ooooh no sir! These days everyone has to complete a personal preference profile to become a valued customer. This gives free entry to a club which gives you lots of goodies, including a choice of beds, blankets or duvets and a full range of pillows; feather, goose-down, man-made fibre and for ex-SAS no pillows at all. I decided that some obscure marketing woman (has to be a woman) had somehow become employed by the hotel group, given an enormous budget and no one at the top had really noticed. Where’s an accountant when you need one?

The room was splendid but unfortunately the fridge had been taken out for maintenance and the ice machine was not working along the corridor. They did offer to move us, at 11.00pm, not to another room but to another hotel as ours was completely full. A nice young man was despatched with a bucket of ice instead. He arrived with an apology for the loud music as there was a wedding reception in the basement. Even with the windows thrown open it was hardly audible, but the apology was appreciated.

Then we arrived at the airport. “Does sir have an Air Canada profile?” Sir does not, neither does madam. “Would sir and madam like to complete one, it has many benefits and, and, and …..” She offered a sheaf of forms to complete.

Then came the luggage weighing contest. This is great fun and involves a sort of game show where the ground ‘ho-ho-hostess’ laughs when you are a kilo overweight in one bag and requires you to transfer your most intimate and most recently used underwear from one bag to another. To make the experience more fun a queue of other passengers, recruited by Central Casting, are lined up to variously laugh, smile, grimace, intake breath sharply or throw-up. This can take some time.

Then came the good news. “You have been especially selected to assist with the training of our new security staff, please step that way.” As the woman said, when she went into the pharmacy, if I could step that way I wouldn’t have come in here and asked for talcum powder. We limped into a roped-off area. The Central Casting artistes looked envious as we were ushered to the front of what, by now, had become a very long queue.

Before us stood a corps of young men and women in new uniforms snapping on blue plastic gloves, the sort doctors wear before telling you to roll over and face the wall. We couldn’t even lay back and think of England before they had attacked our luggage with security-minded gusto.

Do you know what it feels like to see a man, six foot five inches tall with a dyed yellow moustache, his fingers dipped and probing into a pot of your wife’s expensive Oil of Ulay – or is it Olay? He smeared it back into the pot and called to his supervisor loudly. “Nothing in the bottom but this pot is 98.5 er .. ‘ememems’ very close to 100 shall I impound it?” Supervisor replies: “Remember your training; you don’t impound you confiscate!” He seemed crestfallen. She thundered: “Have you done your metric course yet?” He hadn’t. He couldn’t tell a fluid ounce from a microgram.

Every single piece of clothing, every item of anything we had, was taken out and examined by the team. Blue plastic sticks with lint wrapped around them were applied to every square inch or metric equivalent and then ‘oh goodie’ they found a tube of the world’s best midge cream bought in Ayres Rock Australia. It was 102 ‘ememems‘. It had cost Aus$37.50 (£20) and had been bought to fight off the midges at a forthcoming McCleod Clan rally in Scotland in July. Have you ever heard the orgasmic cry of a Canadian rummager? She let forth a howl that would have rivalled a dog-fox in full rut on a full moonlight night in May. “One hundred and two, one hundred and two cubic centimetres” she cried to her supervisor who took the tube from her and dropped it into a bucket. It would not have surprised me if the bucket had been full of sand and lead-lined. Eventually we were thanked for our patience – but it is your community duty you know – and allowed to walk the 600 yards to the plane door. My partner, pushing a walking aid, was greeted warmly. “You know if only you had completed a profile form we would have had a buggy waiting for you on the very next time you travel.” We just can’t wait.

Did I mention that we had taken the precaution of arriving at the airport in plenty of time to have breakfast? The security procedure took two hours and during that time we couldn’t even leave for a pee. Never mind we still had thirty minutes spare – oh no we didn’t – Air Canada had retimed the flight to an hour earlier and given it a new flight number. “We told your travel agent only this morning by email.” But it’s Sunday! “Yes well that’s not our fault.”

The Air Canada flight, when it happened, was excellent. A cabin attendant came over and said “What beer would you like sir, your buddy in row 28 is buying.” I told him to return and enquire about the $500 my buddy owed me. The dollars never arrived, nor did the beer. I wonder who ‘my buddy’ was.

HAPPY flying DAZE Next stop Toronto

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CABOOSE ON THE LOOSE

ewercommon — Tue, 18 May 2010 02:54:48 +0000

Saturday 15th May 0530am

Elk, moose and wild bear, red in tooth and claw.

One of the greatest, if not the greatest, railway journey in the world is provided by the Great Canadian Railtour Company based in Vancouver. Not to be confused with Canadian Pacific and unlike the horrible Australian India/Pacific or the Ghan railway the Canadian Rocky Mountaineer is a model of comfort and good design. Gold class carriages are fitted with panoramic domes that run the full length of the carriages giving an almost 180 degree view of the sky and the scenery.

And it doesn’t flash by. The driver controls its lady-like pace which varies from 10kph to about 50kph depending on the scenery with regular stops for pictures. I emphasise the driver because some Canadian commuter trains are controlled remotely – look Mum no hands and no driver!

The Rocky Mountaineer diesels its way from Vancouver at 06.30am stopping only to change crews and refuel at 7.30pm in Kamloops. The following day it puffs purified diesel fumes from 07.00am until 2130 (9.30pm) until it reaches Calgary in the Rocky Mountains. On its way it travels through unsurpassed mountain scenery. Well, from Kamloops it does. But from Vancouver to Kamloops, inclusive, the Canadians who allegedly pride themselves on their environmental responsibilities litter their countryside with rusting old cars and pollute the views with the worst kind of tinker’s rubbish. When they have finished with their cars, trucks, farm machinery, industrial detritus they leave them just where they stopped on their final journey. Space is not a problem here. Families with several cars leave their previous generation of several cars to rust and die. Government signs, several feet high and wide, beg visitors to take their rubbish home while ignoring what the residents choose to do with their own gardens. Every other house seems to have at least one large caravan parked on its front garden; usually a 5^th wheeler, a model that is very popular along with 45 foot Winnebago RVs and their like. For every 5^th wheeler there has to be a snorting 8/10 litre pick-up with which to tow it. This gives the appearance that every home-owner is a showman from the circus or fairground. Leaving the problem unresolved is just government laziness. It is quite unnecessary and the simple government device of forcing all vehicles, running or not, to be taxed would rid the countryside of its rusting scars at a stroke.

A condition known as ‘mountainitis‘ is a problem. The scenery is just so awe-inspiring that you find yourself taking picture after picture and by the time you have travelled 5Kms you have used up five rolls of film or a 16Gb flash chip and all you have are mountains.

Service on board the Rocky Mountaineer is first class or even better. Yes it is expensive but it is something you do only once in your lifetime. Fine dining begins at breakfast and finishes at supper. Freshly baked-on-board cookies appear with tea. All drinks are free just for the asking. It’s an alcoholic’s delight which normally would not impinge but loud-mouthed Australians do leave their mark on other passengers. But then they do that with or without alcohol. The staffs are all wired with personal intercoms. This is so that the staff at the front of the train can spot bears, moose and elk and relay the information down the train to excite passengers.

The train travels so slowly that some wonderful shots of this sort of wildlife are possible, especially if standing on the open caboose at the very back of the train. It’s not possible however to reserve it so even professional photographers must take pot luck. Leaving the train for close-ups of brown and black bears that stand some 9 feet high in their socks on their hind legs is not recommended. Just in case the train does stop in an emergency crews give survival advice. For black bears roll up and play dead and they will lose interest. For brown bears run like French Connection UK. If you’re colour-blind, pray and if you are a colour blind agnostic abandon all hope!

HAPPY MOUNTAINOUS DAZE

ABOVE THE SNOWLINE

Next Stop Toronto

DISCLAIMER NB: This blog is factional entertainment and may not reflect the situation as others may see it. All characters are intended to be fictional and fun. If it ain’t fun you’re not doin’ it right, said Grandma Ewer Common in the only talk she ever gave me on the facts of life.

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VANCOUVER – CULTURE SHOCK

ewercommon — Tue, 18 May 2010 02:52:59 +0000

Wednesday 13^th May 2010

Coming ashore from the MS Volendam after a month at sea – albeit with stops along the way – is something of a culture shock. The ‘womb’ that is the ship suddenly disappears. All the 24 hour services; gone. No doctor; no meals; no live music; no nanny; no driver; no captain. It’s odd.

You emerge into the early light of day surrounded by your heavy suitcases wondering where your hotel is located.

Simple; ask a taxi driver. ‘Which Fairmont sir, we have four of them here. Oh the one near the cruise-ship port, well that reduces it down to just three.’ Many of Vancouver’s taxis are splendid. They open at the back with a ramp so that wheeled suitcases and wheelchairs can be propelled into the rear without too much effort. Like buses they dip and curtsey for easy access and the drivers are veritable tour guides. Vancouver itself, home of the Olympics earlier this year (2010), positively shines. High-rise buildings stretch into the sky some over 60 storeys high, one, bizarrely with a forest of trees on its roof surrounded by high glass walls. The trees are illuminated at night along with all the other surrounding sky-scrapers. Any suggestion that energy and light-saving should be observed is laughable. While England proposes switching off lights on its roads and motorways after midnight to save the government money, Vancouver decorates the surrounding hills with Hollywood searchlights. The media talk about recession and job losses, even the desperate need for tax rises to cover government expenditure but there is little real sign of any electrical belt-tightening. And the reason appears to be hydro-electrics. Canada has more power-producing waterfalls and rivers than it knows what to do with. It sells some of the excess to America but until science can find ways of manufacturing and exporting high-power ‘batteries’ overseas Canada will continue to waste power and want for little.

Customer service in Vancouver is exceptional. The Olympic experience taught Canadians that nothing should be too much trouble. The Fairmont Hotel, the one opened in 1939 by the then Queen Elizabeth, later to become the Queen Mother just days before the outbreak of World War II, prides itself on its service. Which is odd, because everything they can provide free of charge they will except for the internet. The Freemont is surrounded with branches of Subway, McDonalds, Starbucks and many lesser known units that all provide hot-spots entirely free, but not the Freemont. It charges $15 for 24 hours (£12 at current inflated rates) and will not connect its customers for a penny or a minute less. During the Olympics 8,400 journalists stayed at the Freemont and other hotels and the internet system generated a fortune but today – yes only 6 months later – I do wonder whether the management should review their current policy.

TOUR BUSES: Perth and Sydney Australia, provide free tour buses for its visitors but not Vancouver. It charges $45 per person for an hour’s tour of what is admittedly a splendid city. The gardens are beautifully maintained, particularly Stanley Park. At this time of year (May) the rhododendrons are among the best I have seen anywhere in the world. In 2006 a huge windstorm tore through the entrance to the harbour, demolished a concrete sea wall and destroyed thousands of trees and plant life. The recovery has been remarkable and work continues today 4 years later and all paid for by companies that are part of the life of Vancouver.

Millions of dollars have been donated and the individual contributions have been identified and inscribed into a stone and bronze memorial. Details are on the web. Some surprising names are missing from the list of donors, including Holland America Line ships. HAL is a part of Carnival, Cunard, P&O, RCI etc so they may have contributed under another name but it is surprising to see HAL’s name missing given that they use the port so regularly.

Tomorrow we’re off on the Mountain Railway through the Rockies to Kamloops and Calgary.

Happy Daze

DISCLAIMER NB: This blog is factional entertainment and may not reflect the situation as others may see it. All characters are intended to be fictional and fun. If it ain’t fun you’re not doin’ it right, said Grandma Ewer Common in the only talk she ever gave me on the facts of life.

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PRISONERS OF CON-CHANCE?

ewercommon — Mon, 10 May 2010 19:52:45 +0000

TWO DAYS OUT FROM VANCOUVER 10^TH May 2010

Two elephants are walking through the jungle when they come across a nude man. The elephants look at each other and then the female elephant says: how do men eat with that thing?

We’ve been at sea out of Hawaii for three days. In that time we have not seen another ship. The weather is cool, 13°C and the sea calm. The mood aboard is interesting, particularly among the majority, passengers from the US. The second largest group comes from Germany. There are only 40 Britz on board and last Friday’s information that the UK is a headless chicken after its neck-and-neck election failure is leaving UK citizens with the feeling that no one knows what’s going to happen so let’s eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we …. ?

Nay the doomsayers.

Party, party, party. It’s the midnight hour. Every hour is happy hour. 500 or so one-arm bandits tinkle night and day. Vingt-et-un, blackjack, craps and gambling of all sorts is obsessing those people who like to live dangerously. Texas ‘hold-em’ $100,000 no limit gambling is going well. House rules prevent video or stills pictures of players or the card tables themselves being taken and all other players must be ‘unidentifiable’ in any stills pictures. What have they got to fear?

The crew in full dress uniforms hold a ‘Blue Ball’ to dance with the passengers. The Captain is the favourite. Deck officers, female, are even dishier in their uniforms. Another dance group is playing three decks below. The bingo pool is now several thousand dollars deep – and building – and someone must win it before we have sailed another 2000 nautical miles. The shops are doing great business with luxury watches, high-class perfumes and gold bling just walking off the shelves. At the other end of the market, rubbish, complete rubbish is selling for high prices. Grandmas stride the gondolas muttering – ‘I must get something for the grandchildren.’ The kids’ joy will be short-lived as plastic gewgaws and Chinese toys will fall apart within minutes of being opened. The gift wrapping with flashing LEDs and musical accompaniment can cost more than the gifts themselves.

We have lost satellite contact with the usual reality from watching the news services CNN and Fox. Contact with the maritime telephone internet network costs 55c a minute and people are reluctant to spend on what they feel they can get for nothing at home. It is so slow that Skype systems will not operate. But the news obsessives among us have checked with the few, the very few who use shortwave radios. And what have we learned? In the real world Wall Street has collapsed a thousand points, unprecedented since the 1920s. There is no workable government in the UK. Greece needs to be bailed out by the IMF and their collapse has impacted on Spain, Portugal, Ireland and today Germany as Prime Minister Angela Merkel warns the world on Deutsche-Welle shortwave that the Euro faces a very uncertain future.

But is Rome actually burning? It’s an effective news black-out. The entertainment officers worry that if people stop partying passengers may start panicking. Every minute of every hour is filled with activities to keep us occupied.

We’re steaming towards Vancouver in our air-conditioned luxury oblivious to what may be happening out there. And do you know what? IGNORANCE IS BLISS.

Happy Daze

DISCLAIMER NB: This blog is factional entertainment and may not reflect the situation as others may see it. All characters are intended to be fictional and fun. If it ain’t fun you’re not doin’ it right, said Grandma Ewer Common in the only talk she ever gave me on the facts of life.

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TODAY I WAS ETHNICALLY PROFILED

ewercommon — Thu, 06 May 2010 07:51:44 +0000

May 5^th 2010 – Na-wili-wili, Kaua’i – Hawaiian Islands, USA

While the British face an uncertain future with an election result due tomorrow (as I type) the unexploded smoking bomb left in a car in New York and disarmed four days ago, has sent shock waves through America. In April the State of Arizona introduced a new law that allows a policeman or civilian representative to stop, detain and enquire into the ethnic background of anyone on suspicion that he/she may not be a US citizen and therefore an illegal immigrant. The TV news channels and the press roundly criticised the Arizona law as repressive and even racist. Until two days ago.

The tone of their comments has changed from being out-rightly critical to the view that well maybe the law is not such a bad idea after all, because all the news channels have big teams of journalists in New York. And for all these reporters bombs in Times Square are just a bit too near their offices for their comfort.

There is a certain irony that it was mainly American money that funded the IRA ‘freedom fighters’ and their bombs that exploded throughout the UK from 1969 onwards. American reporters who were based in places like London, Birmingham, Warrington and Manchester, until the IRA ceasefire, have been dragged into news studios this week to explain what it feels like to live with the daily fear of bombs. Presenters, on behalf of their US audiences, imply that it is all so unfair. What has America and Americans ever done that the Taliban people and Al-Qaida should express their hatred against them in this way? The World Trade Centre bombing 9/11 – (911 is the 999 emergency number in the US) was just a one-off wasn’t it? Americans viewers are not told what their forces are doing in Pakistan/Afghanistan they just know their boys are fighting for freedom – and it’s all about oil prices isn’t it?

The suspect in this case is a US citizen. He is a 24 year old brought up as a good Catholic boy who, after his parent’s marriage broke-up, became a Muslim, went to Pakistan and was trained for terrible deeds. I say suspect because as far as the US broadcasters are concerned this young man has been condemned without trial and – given the chance – would have been strung up by a passing lynch mob. Things haven’t changed too much from the days of black and white western movies viz: “We’re going to string him up Sheriff; you’re a dead man Kincaid.” Journalists have freedom-of-speech laws here in the USA that allows broadcasters and the press to act as judge and jury. If they just happen to get things wrong victims of can always sue – if they have the money. Very few have.

The presentation tone of some US news-mongers is close to hysterical. They provoke fear and uncertainty in audiences in order to sell newspapers and make what they regard as good television. It isn’t; it is corrupt and a disgrace to journalism. The fear they generate spreads into every walk of life. For example, we visited a large supermarket yesterday that on entry proudly boasted that it covered 16 acres of shopping space. It has branches in Europe. I attempted to pay for nine items with a British credit card. The manner of the check-out operator changed on recognising it as ‘foreign.’ A microphone was attached to her uniform. She pressed the call-button and booming throughout the 16 acres of shelving she called for a supervisor to clear it. FOREIGN CREDIT CARD CHECK she yelled. People around me drew back as if I had leprosy. A supervisor – not one but two – arrived and glared suspiciously. Other shoppers drew further back and children were grasped to their mothers’ skirts. Tills nearby stopped ringing and queues came to a halt. I was told to provide photo-identification, my passport and driving licence and a new signature was checked against the passport. It passed muster so we packed our own goods and made to leave but the atmosphere didn’t improve. We and other foreigners (visiting white Europeans) were assisted through the door and onto shuttle buses.

From next month all credit cards and passports when used as identification by foreigners will be photocopied, we were told, and the information sent to a CIA/FBI central register; and this from a
supermarket. The movement of all foreigners will be tracked whenever they use a credit card and their mobile phones, registered at port of entry, will also provide information about their movements. Buy a new cell phone here and, just like buying a television in England for TV licence registration, you must declare your address before the retailer will be allowed to hand the phone over.

Parts of America rely heavily on tourism for survival, not least Hawaii. Just this year the cane sugar industry has collapsed losing a thousand jobs on one island alone and this week 400 people were dismissed from a pineapple packing factory nearby. The shuttle-bus driver told us that without tourism Hawaii would be bankrupt – her word. If tourists, including Americans, are going to face this level of animosity and be racially profiled every time they go shopping they may think twice before doing so. Freedom of speech? Perhaps this is the price we will all have to pay for freedom of speech and even freedom of movement anywhere in the world.

Can we wait to hear the result of the UK election? Some Britz on board this ship are surprised that US TV is not covering the excitement. ‘We have to put up with all their electioneering for weeks’ a woman from Bexleyheath complained. An American at the table asked, reasonably, why Americans needed to know. What is the relevance of an English election to our way of life, he asked. Answer came there none.

Tomorrow we move onto Hilo the last of the Hawaiian Islands. Then we set off on our final five days of Volendam-sailing to Vancouver and firm Canadian soil.

Happy Daze

DISCLAIMER NB: This blog is factional entertainment and may not reflect the situation as others may see it. All characters are intended to be fictional and fun. If it ain’t fun you’re not doin’ it right, said Grandma Ewer Common in the only talk she ever gave me on the facts of life.

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