Made in Indonesia

I've never heard of Jakarta, but that's usually how my experience with port visits start out. We pull in somewhere that I've never heard of and end up finding out something new about the world we live in. This time I learned that there are places that might rival the outskirts of Manila in destitute. Naturally, this being a port town, had it's fair share of classier spots(read: seedier).

It literally smells like no less than a hundred wet dogs just chillin' on the pier in the equatorial sun. Yum.

Indonesia, for the most part, is a Muslim country. This in itself is a new experience to me, and I think that put me on my guard for a majority of the time while we ported here. It's not that I'm a bigot in a religous manner, but is a new experience for me and I was curious and caught myself staring at many of the mosques, statues, and people.

The burkas and religious clothing, the otherworldly foods, the crescent moons on the top of the mosques. I took it all in, but was afraid of taking too many pictures. I am by no means a representative of the Christian community, but you get the idea that you're lumped into that category just for being white.

At a point in our travels where our taksi (Indonesian word for the phonetic) was bringing us downtown we went through a bit of a slum. Some of the scenes were just too incredible, like many things I saw in Manila. I would say that the movie "Slumdog Millionare" comes pretty dead-on to what you would see in the streets. Beggars from every age, taxis ranging from bicycles to scooters for 4 people to converted motorcycles that now had three wheels and a stained plastic shell. Masses of people were living on the railways, fishing out of the stream that trickles through the clogs made from trash and sewage. Trash, everywhere, was the one constant. The colors of red rust and dirt brown covered everything in this heat.

I looked over in the bus that came beside us and saw a girl, couldn't have been much older than 15 or 16 holding a baby. Whether it was hers or her absent mother's, I could not tell you, either scenario is possible. She was looking directly at me through the window that was permanently stained brown. The bus was a relic of another time, resurrected again and again through mechanical miracle. I wanted to help her out somehow, but our contact was cut short when we pulled on ahead in the traffic that could only be described as nightmarish at its best time. Imagine the New York City rush hour, but everyone is moving at one in that gridiron pattern.

I felt guilty for having an iPod in my bag. I felt like just my presence there was insulting. Then I thought about the rich girl on that YouTube video that was throwing a fit about getting a brand new car from daddy on her birthday that was the *wrong color*. I felt incredible rage and shame. The girl on the bus probably didn't have a lot of options growing up. The rich girl has plenty of options and education, which is totally wasted on frivolous things.

Sometimes I anger myself too much with things that could only be solved in the world on a person-to-person basis.

Sorry about the long post, but I've never been to Jakarta before and I was reminded again of humility.
~chase

Pattaya is hot...very very hot, and humid.

So my time in Pattaya was long this time around, though I like to think it was eventful. I was able to get a *very* nice suit made, a Hugo Boss from what I understand. Got plenty of souvenirs for the wife and daughter. And had some incredible food, to include Coco's Ichibanya Curry! The only problem I had the entire time was the fact that I sweated everywhere I went. I mean, I don't think I've ever sweated so much just walking place to place.

The atmosphere was pretty much the same as I remember; vendors literally hounding you on every street asking you to buy their knock-off merch. The stuff looks authentic enough, hell I almost bought a Rolex knock-off for $10 just because it looked so much like the real deal. Though, everything was extremely cheap there, I think I ate and got around pretty well for $80 for all eight days. A litre of bottled water was about 70 cents, Red Bull was around 50 cents, and the average dish of food was around 120-160 baht which is around $4-6 for a dish of Thai food.

Thailand was also the first place in a while that I've smelled that Asian port smell, it's kind of a mix with dirty water and sidewalk-vendor grilled fish/squid. Hard to explain, but it takes me back to those ports everytime. As soon as I am able to, I'll post some pictures of everything thus far, but because I've only been able to access internet through the ship's computers I'm not able to post any of my personal pictures yet. With any luck, i'll be able to nab an overnight chit in one of the next ports and upload a load of pictures.

Until then...

It sinks in...finally

The attitudes of people onboard, the general feeling of resentment, the sense of a journey only begun. I think it's now occurring to most people that they are now on deployment, and not just a small cruise out and back again. I know that's pretty much the case with me, and it really couldn't have come at a worst time.

I find it hard to properly communicate through email quite everything I would like to. I'm so tired.

A Negative that is a Positive

Did you ever have a teacher that finally made things *click* for you when trying to learn something that was just beyond your grasp? A teacher that went out of their way to help, to let you be creative, to let your inner-nerd escape? To let you perform experiments and build machines during recess while everyone else is outside playing on the monkey bars?

I did.

I first met Mrs. Street when I was sitting outside My 2nd grade teacher's door, tasked to complete the math homework I didn't finish the night before. I didn't understand the negative numbers that were new to me at the time, and was too embarassed to ask help with.

She walked by me and asked why I was sitting outside the door. Thinking that I was about to be in more trouble for being outside the classroom decided to be honest about things. I told her that I did not understand my math assignment.

"Oh, that's the easiest part of numbers! They just start going backwards when you go behind the zero!"

"Behind the zero?" I asked.

"Yes, let me show you what I mean, I show this to all my 3rd graders!" she replied rather enthusiastically.

Enter the Number Line. Mrs. Street showed me a single line starting from zero and going up to the number 5, each number having their own dot along the line.

Ok, got it.

Then she warped my mind by putting a -1 to the left of the zero with it's own dot on the line. And then a -2, then a -3....it was madness. It might have been SPARTA!

After she let me figure out the rest of my homework...by myself...she let me go back into the classroom and annouce to my teacher that I would never have a problem with my negative numbers again. And I didn't.

Skip ahead a few years...

Even long after I had passed her class, I kept returning to give model rocket demonstrations for the kids in her class. She had such an impact on my life as a student that I would continue to visit her, even when I was home on leave from the military. I only wish that I was a slightly better student after her class.

Although, I hope she knew that with her help so early in my learning development, I was able to breeze through all my schooling in the Navy and become the head of my class for maintaining and operating the most advanced radar on US Navy Aegis Cruisers and Destroyers. Through this radar we are able to Track and, if needed, detroy ballistic missiles aimed to destroy people or cities traveling well over 5 times the speed to sound. It's like hitting a bullet...with another bullet....in space. How's that for someone that loved to build model rockets growing up?

Thank you Mrs. Jackie Street, I will remember you always for what you taught me and will pass those things to my own daughter.

By the Way, Mrs. Street, my radar's sensitivity is measured in negative numbers.

In the Name of our Ford

*Sigh*....it's a really good thing I brought a coffee maker underway, otherwise I would never make it on the night watches. I'm on auto-pilt on nights like this, which isn't bad, just...bleh. I'm starting to look forward to the watch rotation because it gives me time to work on whatever I need, and I have a looooong time to think to myself.

I've been doing a lot of thinking to myself about the similarities between today's USA and the novel, "1984" by George Orwell. We've even got some quotes written on the console screen. Quotes like "Beware the Thought Police", "Freedom is Slavery, Ignorance is Strength". Substitute Ford is "Big Oil", and you've got yourself a manifesto. Keeping the nation at war for nationalism and controlling what the public know about events. I need to read that book again.

Time for watch...

Closure?

I remember where I was when the towers fell, I remember what went through my mind as well. I was a civilian then.

Yes, I'm damned proud to see this day as a member of the armed forces.

I only hope it doesn't serve as a rallying call of a martyr.

Reflecting on the departure

Well the past few days have seemed to pass as slowly as January molasses, but it also seems so long ago that I left them on the pier. At least things seem to be passing a little more quick. With any luck it'll seem like the days are flying by before too much longer.

This is a picture of Andrew and I the day we left port. We're smiling only because there's a camera.