Boston "T"

Boston “T”: 28^th August, 2010

Finally, we have managed a city’s transport system, in this case, using Boston’s Charlie Ticket, which provides a card to ride the so-called “T”, buses, trains and ferries. This has reduced the stress associated with being mobile. But while we were able to cross Boston with aplomb and confidence walking around Harvard Yard and Harvard Square without getting lost, taxed our brains. Cambridge (which is home to Harvard and MIT) is NOT Boston; indeed, it is an academic city, which pulsates night and day with mental energy—many seem to be ensconced in their iPad or Kindle—particularly at the moment when the university is admitting its freshmen and women and of which we were able to take advantage.

We have explored the delights of Beacon Hill and Back Bay (Boston’s equivalent to Chicago’s “Magnificent Mile” though with a distinctly more French accent); we have experienced the best of public libraries with the new Cambridge Public Library just across the park from where we are staying and the Boston Public Library with its wonderful Singer Sargent murals and its free Friday jazz poetry concert where we heard Robert Pinsky, US poet laureate perform along with a saxophonist and percussionist.

We have eaten really well each evening through our own discoveries and from recommendations from our cordial Bed & Breakfast host David. We have also met very interesting people who have asked us about our travels and shared their tips for the getting the best out of this region.

Today we made an excursion to Gloucester, just north of Boston, which is one of the US’s oldest ports, one long associated with whaling, and latterly with the Rocky Neck School of Painters. It was also the home of American poet Charles Olson, whose Maximus series is set in Gloucester and which is about to celebrate the centenary of his birth with a conference. It transpires that Olson was instrumental in helping to preserve much of the town’s waterfront. On the recommendation of the Pollocks whom we met in the Gloucester Public Library we found Olson’s apartment and actually met his landlord who said Olson was “a pain in the butt”. Thanks to the Pollocks we also explored the Cape Anne Museum, a beautiful regional museum displaying regional art, fishing and quarrying cultural history as well as a wonderful collection of early furniture.

And getting back to Boston and its famous tea party (not to be confused with the recent one which is having a powerful influence on Sarah Palin’s faction of the Republican party) we don’t know whether our request for tea in a china cup was being parodied when Colin’s arrived in this oversized cup. Boston like all US cities we have experienced appears to be in love with the chain café and the disposable container for taking one’s coffee or tea in or out. We just don’t get it.

Chic Chicago

Chic Chicago, 20^th August

Chicago is by far the most exciting city we’ve visited. It is a place whose action mostly takes place above one. By that we mean a lot of the time one’s head is peering upwards, to what must be one of the interesting skylines on the planet. Every building appears to have an architectural provenance as we discovered on our cruise on the river, led by a ‘docent’ from the Chicago Architectural Foundation. The trend upwards began with Louis Sullivan, was consolidated horizontally by Frank Lloyd Wright, and was given an international focus by Mies van Der Rohe whose 860-880 Lake Shore Drive is across the road from our DeWitt Place apartment, conveniently located close to the Magnificent Mile (a paradise for the chic minded), Museum of Contemporary Art and Lake Michigan. (Although we haven’t to date managed to get across Lake Shore Drive to the lakefront as there are few underground crossings and the drive is an impenetrable traffic barrier, an example of poor urban design.)

We enjoyed the new wing of the Art Institute Chicago (designed by Renzo Piano). The post-1900 European collection rivalled those in Washington and Philadelphia. The Cartier Bresson retrospective demonstrated the camera’s power and influence in the twentieth century. Adjacent to the Art Institute is the Pritzker Pavilion designed by Frank Gehry (of interest to us as Sydney may soon to have one of his buildings on the site of an old ice-cream factory site in Ultimo). Another highlight of our stay was a visit to Frank Lloyd Wright’s home and studio in Oak Park—the architect who attempted to “break the box” of home design. Inspired by the visit, Claire is reading a biography of Wright and tomorrow we plan to visit Robie House.

For the first time on this trip we are staying in an apartment. We are experiencing a version of home away from home. It is so refreshing to cater for ourselves but only after discovering a farmers’ market and Treasure Island, which claims to be America’s most “European supermarket”. The helpfulness of Americans continues and here we have had useful advice from older Chicagoans, many of whom have visited Australia. Even so, our accents are not easily understood, particularly by bus drivers and voice recognition devices.

Washington: throne of world power

13th August: Washington: throne of world power

Washington is more than the White House. It is the Smithsonian museums (twelve in all), the art galleries, the public transport system that is insufferably complex (particularly when it comes to fares payment), the unbearable humidity (20 ninety degree days in succession) and the paucity of restaurants (at least where we are). It is easy to whinge about Washington but it is equally easy to be impressed by the monumentalism of Washington, the scale of its mostly Greek columned buildings and what they house. Even its railway station is a monument of Acropolis proportions. The Chester Dale (let’s not forget his wife Maude too) collection (which cannot be loaned) at the National Gallery of Art is worth a visit to Washington alone. We’ve yet to find out what treasures are housed in the West wing of that gallery—that is how much there is to see! That is the problem with Washington: there is just too much to see, and most of it is free, which makes the pressure to see even more imperative. Washington is so spaced out, walking from museum to museum let alone around them, is putting a toll on our legs.

Americans with their enthusiasm and pride in their country flock to Washington in these long summer holidays and family groups, including families with twenty-somethings as well, are everywhere. The gowns of the first ladies is a great exhibit for us ladies as well as Julia Child’s kitchen, both in the Museum of American History. Colin found a lot there to interest him including early phonographs. He was also nearly arrested in the Library Congress, where his Swiss Army knife brought him to attention of the security guards, especially when he hid it under a bush, in the grounds of the Capitol building. If he had been caught on camera, as he had been by the Library of Congress cameras he would have been arrested and possibly deported or sent to Guantanomo Bay.

We also had some time out from the Smithsonian overload with a day out cruising down the Potomac River to George Washington’s very experimental farm and home at Mount Vernon. When the fish were running George Washington and his hands would catch 1.5 million fish to feed the family and their guests for the whole year round. This tour provided a fantastic insight into the great man as well as a vignette of early settlement and the defence systems along the river to protect the settlement from invasion.

At the time of writing, we are sitting on the spacious veranda of the Morrison Clark Historic Inn, which is heritage listed and has paid host to a number of first ladies in its time, including Jackie Kennedy whose photograph graces the lobby. Across from us in a small triangular park homeless people are settling in for the night around the base of a monument. Washington is the sort of place that constantly reminds you that it is the throne of power, but the powerless are also well in evidence.

Finding our Landlegs in Philadelphia

Independence Day, 8^th August

Philadelphia Cheese was standard fare on the Utrillo; now we are here, without the cheese, independent of the ship that has been our home for the last five weeks, almost. Adjustment to dry land has taken some time, particularly fending for ourselves: finding places to eat, books to read, trains, and trolleys to catch, museums to visit, not that there are any shortages of the latter in Philadelphia. The most spectacular to look at, both inside and outside, is the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The contemporary collection (Duchamp’s galore) is nothing short of miraculous.

We are staying at the Alexander Inn, corner of Spruce St and Twelfth, which is a most convenient location midway between the old town and City Hall. It is a real inner city location with many cafes and restaurants with in easy walking distance, very helpful proprietors and most congenial environment being a late nineteenth century hotel revamped to modern expectations. It overlooks commercial gothic and art deco buildings that are a feature of Philadelphia downtown. Philadelphia is a lived in city. The houses and laneways hereabouts, which practice Quaker sobriety, are most attractive—models of what inner-city abodes should be.

As well as art museums, we have walked and walked the historic area, Society Hill, the French quarter as well as two long walks to Philadelphia Museum of Art and to University City. We have eaten really well each evening and discovered the Reading Terminal Market as a great lunch location. Our one misadventure has been to catch the train to Germantown where we felt completely disoriented and out of place. Obviously it is usually a tourist bus route and not set up for the wandering tourist. The trips there and back did show us a different side of Philadelphia as did the area around City Hall, early Sunday morning.

savanaah

In the garden of good and evil, 3rd August

Savanaah, Georgia, has many literary, musical and cinematic associations, of which the most the famous is John Berendt’s Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. It is also on the way to becoming the largest container ship terminal in the US. For us though it was the architecture and urban layout which are Savanaah’s splendours. To think, they were going to demolish the old town and replace it with some residential version of a container terminal. We did a tour on a Trolley Bus (a pretend one) and were told just about everything about Forest Gump, which was filmed in one of Savanaah’s many squares. On the debit side, we experienced the highest humidity and two torrential downpours in the five hours we had on shore.

Jamaica rum

Jamaica rum, 31^st July

After being told there would be no shore leave, we had the unexpected pleasure of having a taxi tour around Kingston, with a knowledgeable driver. Kingston was both run down and gentrified, and the mixture made it an exciting city. The atmosphere was palpable, alive, vital, party like, teeming with exotically dressed young people. We arrived in an electrical storm and the place was inundated, so much so the city’s drainage system was overwhelmed by the run off from the rugged terrain. The tropical climate meant the vegetation was lush and luxuriant. Downtown where Kingston’s administrative centre is located was extremely rundown and neglected. However the new town was definitely aspiring to upmarket status. The recent gang wars much in the news recently were not evident in our encounter with this exciting city. The picture shows our driver, Claire, Helga and Craig, our fellow passengers, eating guava ice creams in Devon House, an old plantation residence.

Ocean crossing, continent crossing

Ocean crossing, continent crossing, 29^th—30^th July

It is hard to describe the fourteen days crossing the Pacific and the ways we had of counting down. Finally on Wednesday 28 July at about noon we had our first sighting of the coast of Panama, with waves breaking on land, mountain ranges and small settlements. On the sea small fishing vessels as well as whales, dolphins and in the sky increasing numbers of birds escorting the ship. We also started to see the first debris and plastics of our voyage. We ground to a halt, off Panama City, waiting our turn to be admitted into the Canal.

We started engines in the early hours of Thursday morning. Uncharacteristically Claire crawled out of bed to peer out at the large number of container vessels ablaze with lights in Panama Bay (lights on mean that a vessel is stationery). There was an excellent view of Panama City by night as the pilot navigated us past the Islands Naos, Perico and Flamenco with its lighthouse, under the Bridge of the Americas towards the Miraflores Locks, the first of three series on the Panama Canal. Uncharacteristically Colin could only be coaxed to watch this progress for a short period leaving Claire to try to fathom just how the locks work and to stay watch in the saloon behind the blackout curtains. The Pedro Miguel Locks were next and then a long journey through rainforest across the lakes to the Gatun Locks where we at last grasped the engineering and technology that had taken us 37.8 kilometres across a content and 26.52 metres above sea level on the Pacific side and back to sea level in the Caribbean Sea.

Panama is a beautiful little country, luxuriant forests, scenic lakes - most of them artificially created and with the added tourist attraction of crocodiles. Eventually, late in the afternoon of the 30^th , we arrived in the port of Colon City. We were warned against doing anything too ambitious and finally it was suggested we four passengers take a taxi to Quadros Altos (Four Peaks)—a shopping mall Panamanian style - the biggest Best and Less in the world—and running on Central American music. The trip to Four Peaks, in our beat up yellow taxi, passed a gargantuan prison, was pure Russian roulette, as we dodged big trucks, cars, pedestrians, pot-holes. All-in-all we quite liked our first Latin American experience, a rumba rather than a tango. Next stop Kingston, Jamaica, which apparently is a real security risk.

Endurance test

Endurance test, 26^th July

We are now few degrees below the equator, having endured twelve days without seeing any land, only one boat, a few birds, and, today, a dead flying fish and a school of porpoises. No wonder, we have found little to write about. The days roll into one another, without apparent divisions. Weekends are as the same weekdays, nights, days. At 17.56 precisely, our course will be altered from East North East to North Easter as we move through the two hundred mile exclusion zone around the Galapagos Islands, heading for Panama. Tomorrow at 5am we cross the Equator. But the weather is far from equatorial and we have experienced rough weather, only now beginning to abate, almost all the way from New Zealand. Who’d fly by boat?

Pacific specific

Pacific specific, 19^th July

After leaving Tauranga, where we climbed Mt. Maunganiui, we have had a rough time—not really high seas but high enough to be confined to our cabin for several days. Today is the first day we have been able to walk around CMA CMG Utrillo. We are on a shallow NE course, which will continue, with one or two minor adjustments, all the way to Panama. As there is no land to be seen, our milestones are the imaginary lines that criss-cross the Pacific: the Tropic of Capricorn and the Equator. We have crossed the other important line, the International Date Line, which meant we had the disarming experience of two consecutive Thursdays. Australia is now well and truly behind us!

To cope with the interminable stretches of time we have a variety of entertainments. These include solitary ones of reading and diary/blog writing, joint activities such as jigsaws or crossword puzzles and we have now started some communal evenings— DVDs and iPod concerts. The concerts may prove to be a highlight of the voyage as Colin is now expected to devise a suitable musical hour for Helga and now Paul, the chief engineer.

Becalmed

Becalmed 12^th July

Today has been disappointing as we were very much looking forward to an afternoon adventure in Napier. Instead we have been anchored not far offshore since noon waiting for another cargo ship to load up and be off. The hour to expect the pilot keeps being put back 1500, 1600 and now 1700 is even not looking likely as the ship is still in port. It takes an hour to get into port and then usually another hour or so for customs clearance so we might have a night walk around the town if we are lucky. There go our plans to upload our blog, post some mail and stock up on any little treats we might need for the 15 day trip across the Pacific. It looks like our view of art deco Napier may even be confined to reading the tourist brochures in the cupboard and talking about what we might have seen and done. Even though we are late in plans are still in place to push off on schedule in the morning.

Cabin fever

Cabin fever 11^th July

The pictures show the ‘innards’ of our Cabin, which is called “Supercargo” and certified for one seaman. Bigger than most hotel or motel rooms, it fulfils all the basics: toilet, shower, small fridge, cupboard space, desk (where our belles lettristic equipment sits), and coffee table as well as a double bed. It is quite cosy. As we have become more confident passengers, we’ve extended our ‘geographical’ footprint out onto E deck portside and created for ourselves what seems like our own balcony, where we sit in blue deckchairs when the sun is out. And when we are tired of one another and/or are afflicted with cabin fever, one of us retreats to the passengers’ lounge, where a jig-saw is slowly being pieced together.

Crossing the Tasman, 10^th July

This is our second full day at sea and we have now entered New Zealand waters, although we will not Zea land until tomorrow. We have been lucky with the weather, which moves from cloudy to sunny with an occasional brief shower and with smooth seas and a gentle swell. The third officer tells us we are behind schedule due to head winds and a current working against us. We visit the bridge morning and afternoon to get our bearings on the compass (East South East) and to check our position on the paper charts and computer screens. It is always a splendid view up there and the second and third officers like to chat and discuss life at sea. We haven’t visited when the Captain George Catalui is in on watch. Today we saw birds flying low off the port side but we were not able to identify them. Third officer has promised to call if he sees another ship or a whale.

We have had to devise a routine of sorts to manage the long stretches of time—walk around the deck, visit the bridge, sit on our deckchairs in the sun and out of the wind. We also read, do puzzles, play games, visit the gym, and listen to music. We also write a diary and this Blog but there is still more time in the day than we’ve probably experienced since childhood.

Swanston Dock

Swanston Dock in Melbourne, 11.45am, 8^th July

The scene is like something out of Bladerunner, mobile cranes looking vaguely robotic, running container errands between the wharf and the ships, at an inexorable pace. One would like to take a photograph or, better still a video, except picture taking is verboten and the security is such that one is likely to be observed.

Swell moment

Swell moment, 4pm, 7^th July

We’re waiting for the pilot to take the Utrillo into Port Phillip Bay and onto Swanston Dock. Things are pitching around a bit. Hopefully we’ll move soon—though not until 5 o’clock. Our first day and half at sea has been more tranquil than this. The coastline and islands around Wilson’s Promontory were spectacular—well worth seeing from a Bass Strait vantage point.

Our fellow passengers, Dimitri and Judith (see picture), who are due to disembark in Melbourne, are frustrated with this turn of events. They might miss their connecting train. We are settling into the rhythm of sea-life, which is a matter adjusting to the go-slow pace of everything, of watching the clock take forever to reach the new hour.