The Gamming

11 August 2016

10.35 (Ship time. My phone’s GPS says it is actually 11.35)

The Mediterranean; steaming towards Damietta

The Mediterranean is such a lonely sea. Its vastness is such that one doesn’t really see ships passing except in the far distance and the AIS screen shows ships so far that they do not appear on the horizon at all. Bojan the deck cadet talks about how the air and light in the Mediterranean so exceed in their pleasure and beauty the pollution of the sea and the air in China. And Marco the second mate talks about the difficulty of port visits with all the demand of manoeuvering the ship. It seems that the proliferation of ports is what makes the work difficult – as it requires attentiveness, presence, difficulty. And apparently there is a hierarchy of access to port passes. And the second mate is far low on the totem pole.

This hierarchy is also present at meals. The officers’ table is different than the cadets’ table. And I get to eat on my own beyond a partition. There is an interesting difference though between Callisto and Corte Real: Corte Real had a far more formal dining culture. The master sat at the head of the table; his wife to his right and the chief mate to his left and then the chief engineer, and then the officers in descending order of rank. Here, everyone just grabs a seat and sits next to one another. The captain is sometimes in the middle of the table and sometimes at the end of it. This may have something to do with how the chef dictates the culture of dining on board this ship. With the captain being new to the ship, the ethics of eating must have been established by the chef, who also does not serve the officers by plate, but rather provides the foot buffet style and everyone gets to serve themselves (which frankly, I prefer, as I get to serve myself as much or as little as I desire). If this is the case, then it is interesting that a crew member gets to determine the shape and rigidity of the shipboard hierarchy, at least at mealtimes.

I have also told Lysandro (the messman) that I wouldn’t mind trying some of the crew’s food. The officers’ food –like last time- is a bit inconsistent. The roast chicken and the goulash were delicious, but the fish was absolutely terrible. I am hoping to try Filipino adobo or chicken curry instead. We shall see.

Nice coffee is abundant on the ship too, thankfully, and I have a little box of Danish cookies in my cabin for when I feel peckish. I have not asked about booze and shall refrain, but interestingly Lysandro was telling me that the Filipino crew do not really do karaoke like the crew on Corte Real did almost every night. Also interestingly, the Filipino crew here is into working out with weighs and playing table-tennis, which is also different than the men of Corte Real. On Corte Real, the Balkan officers were into weight-lifting, but the Croatian men on Callisto seem far less into having those enormous muscly arms and have far more ordinary bodies.

Being so familiar with shipboard life means that already, two days into being at sea, I have settled into an iron routine: coffee for breakfast, a run on the treadmill, a couple of hours of sunbathing and reading on my deck, an hour of hanging out in the wheelhouse, lunch, a nap, some reading and writing, and perhaps a walk along the deck, although there seems to be a lot more ceremony involved with walking around the deck on Callisto. The third mate even wanted me to wear overalls, which thankfully turned out not to be necessary. But I did wear a helmet and carried a radio –the latter of which I didn’t have to do on Corte Real. The layout of the deck is also different on this ship – and you can glance on the lower-deck aft, where the previous captain has laid some Astroturf, apparently for twice-weekly football games (according to Bojan). But the current captain doesn’t seem too much into playing football. After the walk, more reading and writing until dinner at 6, and still more writing and reading and perhaps a visit to the wheelhouse. The last two nights, I have been so shattered that I have fallen asleep at 9 or 9.30. I shall definitely get a lot of rest while onboard the ship.

As we steam through the Mediterranean further and further towards its southeast corner, the air is becoming more humid and there is a haze on the horizon. The sea is still lonely, but as the sea narrows in its eastern reaches, I suddenly find that my phone is picking up Greek mobile networks. To be handed in this way from network to network is strange – as if there is no way to escape the reach of those webs of communication and transport so central to our lives today. Below us, on the floor of the sea, lie the vast flows of communication cables, pipelines, and wreckage. Layer upon layer of history. Above us, in “the ether”, the microwave emissions, the mobile signals, satellite signals. My phone has already located itself via GPS, and although the ship time is officially GMT+2, my phone is already in the time-zone of North Africa, at GMT+3. So I move in two time zones simultaneously, connected to Greek networks intermittently, and steaming towards Egypt. This anchoring of our time – and also our eastward movement through space- to Greenwich immediately makes me think of the extraordinary reach of the British empire; its insistence on setting the standards of motion and defining the parameters of long-distance shipping. Greenwich as the point zero of ships moving upon the deep.

Later in the evening:

The adobo at dinner was utterly delicious. If I can from here on out avoid the officers’ food and eat the crew’s meals I shall be in clover!

Fascinatingly, a note arrived today from the UK P&I Club (whatever that is), speaking about a new scam at Suez. Apparently some guys board ships at Suez anchorage, claiming to be from United Mediterranean Shipping and conduct “health checks” including taking blood, supposedly on behalf of Suez Canal Company. Then after finishing, they demand a payment from the master. Turns out of course that they are wholly fraudulent. It is fascinating to see the hostility voiced by the officers against the scammers in Suez.

In August 2016, I once again boarded a ship in Malta to travel to Jabal Ali.  I had recorded the previous occasion with giddy excitement, all things seeming new and unfamiliar.  Perhaps the familiarity of the trip, or the fact that I was writing my book proposals (rather than focusing on my diary entries and on reading and reflection) made 2016’s entries quite anaemic in comparison with the previous time. And perhaps that is why it has taken me so long to post these. For more reflexive, more literary deliberations on the nature of containership travel, perhaps it is best to return to my entries from 2015 (the first is here:https://thegamming.org/2015/02/03/wake-up-your-saints/) . They fall under Travels category!

Wednesday 10 August

06.36

Having sailed from Marsaxlokk

It is strange to be on a cargo ship once again. The differences come to the fore at every turn.

First and foremost, I am far more familiar with the workings of the ship, its layout, and even one of the engineers –who had been on Corte Real in January 2015. I am a bit more jaded, a bit less overwhelmed by the sublime vastness of this whole thing, a lot more comfortable wandering about, and asking for things. It really also helps that I am the only passenger, and this time, unlike last time, the only woman onboard. I am not sure how this will affect everything – but thus far everyone has been lovely, although the messman, Lysandro is seating me on my own and beyond a barrier. I feel a bit like I am in a harem. The officers chat with me though (especially if there are no others around) and are friendly and warm.

But there are also other stuff that will distinguish Callisto from Corte Real. There are so many more port visits than last time: Damietta, then Beirut, then Mersin, then through Suez to Jidda, then Jabal Ali. Navigating past Lebanon and Cyprus should be a treat.

The second thing that is different probably has something to do with this abundance of port visits: the ship is relatively empty of boxes. My window is not obscured by containers. I can see the sea; and light pours into my cabin, which is wonderful. I wonder how long this will last though. The officers were telling me that most of the containers are empty in any case, and they thought that the containers we would pick up in the ports on the way would similarly be empty. It is a bit strange to see all these container racks aboard the ship which are devoid of boxes, and to be able to see the massive (33 tonnes!) cover of the under-deck holds.

What is interesting about this relative paucity of boxes is the way they are loaded on deck. There are entire rows that are completely free of boxes, save for the edges. Two containers on top of each other on the very furthest margin of the decks on both port and starboard. Is this for aesthetics’ sake or balance? Does the particular needs of loading ballast dictate the placement of the boxes? The loading of the boxes in each row is fascinating: some are loaded six levels high and then entirely empty rows. On some rows, boxes are bunched towards the centre (with a couple of boxes loaded at the edges again) and for a handful of rows, boxes go all the way across. I am not sure that the box storage spaces in the holds are actually full either. The rows in the aft are all completely full however. Will have to ask the captain about this.

The other major difference is that unlike last time, the residence decks and the wheelhouse are all located atop the engine room. Although I am far above, I can still feel the thrum of the engine, the ship’s beating heart, in my cabin in a way I couldn’t before. This is quite exciting actually.

The other differences are minor: the gym is huge and well appointed. The layout of the wheelhouse differs from Corte Real. There are only 27 officers and crew on board not 35 like last time.

Danilo – one of the crew – actually likes the new Filipino president because he is cleaning up Manila. Lysandro, the messman, used to work on a cruiseship and finds both workplaces as difficult as one another. There are two Chinese engineering trainees on board. And like last time, there is one Filipino officer, but he is a third mate this time, not second mate, like last time. There are also fewer officers altogether. One second mate (not two) and two third mates. And far fewer cadets.