Entry 112, July 11th, 2011, 2:27pm (GMT +2)
Ugh. Groggy today. I guess that comes hand in hand with sleeping 14 hours straight (I had some catching up to do). Lots of dreams with strangely important symbolic meaning. Do we assign meaning to dreams after the fact? Or do they actually mean something at the time on their own? I'd probably have to train myself to remain conscious while dreaming to figure that out.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Another travel blog . . .
I've added another link to the sidebar. It is a travel blog run by a friend of mine from South Africa, Anja, who was just on the ship for two weeks as a crew guest. She gives a great run down of all the ports we visit, all in a blog that's much more put together than this one (less quasi-philosophical ramblings, more traveling; it even has pictures! gasp!). Also in the archives are some useful bits of information about the Schengen visa process . . . anyway, I highly recommend you check it out, if for no other reason than to get a different perspective on the places we've been visiting.
What are you waiting for! Show her some love:
http://exploradoranja.travellerspoint.com
What are you waiting for! Show her some love:
http://exploradoranja.travellerspoint.com
Entry 111 7.9.11
Entry 111, July 9th, 2011, 11:02pm (GMT +2)
Earlier today, just before flag parade . . .
I'm standing next to a silent, hulking giant of a man who is holding a Brazilian flag. I'm holding the Turkish flag. He seems new, so I decide to strike up a conversation.
I point at his flag, and then look up at his chest.
"Nice, man. You know, I bet you could even pass for a Brazilian guy."
His head swivels around towards me. I can practically hear the gears grinding in his neck.
"I . . . am . . . Brazilian."
His head turns back with a click. Awkward silence.
"Ahh. Well, that's probably why."
Earlier today, just before flag parade . . .
I'm standing next to a silent, hulking giant of a man who is holding a Brazilian flag. I'm holding the Turkish flag. He seems new, so I decide to strike up a conversation.
I point at his flag, and then look up at his chest.
"Nice, man. You know, I bet you could even pass for a Brazilian guy."
His head swivels around towards me. I can practically hear the gears grinding in his neck.
"I . . . am . . . Brazilian."
His head turns back with a click. Awkward silence.
"Ahh. Well, that's probably why."
Monday, July 11, 2011
Entry 110 7.8.11
Entry 110, July 8th, 2011, 10:20pm (GMT +2)
During today's rehearsal our headliner remarked that we weren't giving him enough energy. “Come on, guys!” One of the horn players remarked under their breath, “Gimme a break, I'm just playing the part.” He didn't mean to, but I think he summarized the problem pretty well. Our job as a band is not just to produce notes in rhythm, but to make good music. The guys in the band don't care for this particular headliner, and so they're not giving him any energy. To me, this seems like the worst of unprofessional behavior – screwing with the music just because of ego – but it isn't my place to call anybody out on it (I am the new guy, after all). I'll be ready to move on after this contract.
Entry 109 7.6.11
Entry 109, July 6th, 2011, 11:33pm (GMT +2)
Today was a lazy day. The Celine Dion tribue act only had one trumpet part, and Rob offered to play it so I had the day off. I spent most of it working to defeat Sephiroth, the arch villain of Final Fantasy VII. I got to the final boss fight, but am woefully underprepared, so I'm off to find a weapon hidden in a sunken submarine or something . . .
Today was a lazy day. The Celine Dion tribue act only had one trumpet part, and Rob offered to play it so I had the day off. I spent most of it working to defeat Sephiroth, the arch villain of Final Fantasy VII. I got to the final boss fight, but am woefully underprepared, so I'm off to find a weapon hidden in a sunken submarine or something . . .
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Entry 108 7.5.11
Entry 108, July 5th, 2011, 11:54pm (GMT +2)
I spent the day exploring the bluff near our dock in Ibiza. There is a road that goes to the top, but there's also an unofficial shortcut involving a dirt path lined with fossilized seashells, and an even less official shortcut that involves a decrepit staircase, an abandoned dock, and several stray cats. The view at the top was beautiful -- I just missed the sunset, but I got some other good pictures. There were a trio of round cement holes sunk into the ground that I think used to be a shore artillery battery during World War II . . . they were linked by an underground bunker that I explored using my cell phone as a flashlight. It wasn't very large, and two of the entrances were blocked with rubble, but it was still pretty cool.
The wind was freshening as I made my way down the bluff. The other cruise ship anchored off the coast was using tender boats to ferry passengers back and forth to the shore . . . they must have been having an interesting time of it as the wind picked up!
I spent the day exploring the bluff near our dock in Ibiza. There is a road that goes to the top, but there's also an unofficial shortcut involving a dirt path lined with fossilized seashells, and an even less official shortcut that involves a decrepit staircase, an abandoned dock, and several stray cats. The view at the top was beautiful -- I just missed the sunset, but I got some other good pictures. There were a trio of round cement holes sunk into the ground that I think used to be a shore artillery battery during World War II . . . they were linked by an underground bunker that I explored using my cell phone as a flashlight. It wasn't very large, and two of the entrances were blocked with rubble, but it was still pretty cool.
The wind was freshening as I made my way down the bluff. The other cruise ship anchored off the coast was using tender boats to ferry passengers back and forth to the shore . . . they must have been having an interesting time of it as the wind picked up!
Friday, July 8, 2011
Entry 107 7.4.11
Today was a lovely day in Barcelona. A friend and I explored Montjuic, a mountain overlooking the city that was the site of the 1992 summer Olympics (the year that my younger brother was born, coincidentally). It is also home to a large art museum, although my usual luck with museums in Barcelona held and it was closed for the day.
The mountain wa awash in luscious green plant life everywhere we looked. There was a brief thruderstorm that reminded me of home -- it was one of those fast summer storms where you can see the line of rain advance across the ground towards you. We found some shelter in a pavillion along with a bunch of other tourists and continued exploring after it passed. The original stadium was actually built for the 1936 Olympics, but the games were canceled due to the Spanish Civil War. From the plaza ourside there was an amazing view of the city. We could see the old cathedral, the Torre Agbar, and of course the Sagrada Familia with its attendant cranes.
Surrounding the group of stadiums and fountains are extensive gardens that wind up and down the sides of the mountain -- mazes of green, filled with small secret niches and long hidden fountains that drop step by step for hundreds of yards. After about half an hour of wandering we were able to find the Greek theater, an authentic reproduction of a Greek ampitheater that is carved into the side of the mountain and seats about two thousand people. Surrounding the upper lip are a line of cypresses that divide the theater proper from the surrounding gardends, where cafes are linked together by dirt paths and streams of water meander between the tables. The stage is backed by a raw rock wall, and the wild forest comes right to the far side of the theater. It would be an amazing venue to play in. I checked the schedule -- both Keith Jarret and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra are going to be there this month. Man, now that's the gig!
The heat, humidity, and the smell of the warm wet leaves of Montjuic reminded me of summer back home. I am sad to miss the Michigan summer . . . but when the Grandeur bit into the first big ocean roller a few minutes ago, I couldn't help but smile. I'll be glad to come home, but I'm not ready yet!
The mountain wa awash in luscious green plant life everywhere we looked. There was a brief thruderstorm that reminded me of home -- it was one of those fast summer storms where you can see the line of rain advance across the ground towards you. We found some shelter in a pavillion along with a bunch of other tourists and continued exploring after it passed. The original stadium was actually built for the 1936 Olympics, but the games were canceled due to the Spanish Civil War. From the plaza ourside there was an amazing view of the city. We could see the old cathedral, the Torre Agbar, and of course the Sagrada Familia with its attendant cranes.
Surrounding the group of stadiums and fountains are extensive gardens that wind up and down the sides of the mountain -- mazes of green, filled with small secret niches and long hidden fountains that drop step by step for hundreds of yards. After about half an hour of wandering we were able to find the Greek theater, an authentic reproduction of a Greek ampitheater that is carved into the side of the mountain and seats about two thousand people. Surrounding the upper lip are a line of cypresses that divide the theater proper from the surrounding gardends, where cafes are linked together by dirt paths and streams of water meander between the tables. The stage is backed by a raw rock wall, and the wild forest comes right to the far side of the theater. It would be an amazing venue to play in. I checked the schedule -- both Keith Jarret and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orchestra are going to be there this month. Man, now that's the gig!
The heat, humidity, and the smell of the warm wet leaves of Montjuic reminded me of summer back home. I am sad to miss the Michigan summer . . . but when the Grandeur bit into the first big ocean roller a few minutes ago, I couldn't help but smile. I'll be glad to come home, but I'm not ready yet!
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