Late, I suppose...

(Written October 14th)
Living on a ship is sort of like living in Never-Never Land, except you wear a uniform and, itinerary permitting, you can get a tan. It strikes me as sort of ironic that, all throughout college, we’re being prepared for the real world, for responsibilities outside of dorm and scheduled classes, cafeteria lines and late night food, and, here I find myself, living in a tiny cabin, playing the same set times every week, eating in a buffet line restaurant every day with the possibility of room service at 2 in the morning.
But, hey, there’s a paycheck.
Not bad for a classical guitar major, no?

(Written October 16th)
Today the Ryndam became the first cruise ship to arrive at Guaymas, Mexico; in celebration, camera crews flooded the ship, the captain paraded well-attired “guests” around, and the locals gathered around the security check points to see the new arrivals and festivities to mark the occasion. It was undeniably surreal to suddenly have this odd significance(?) placed on our arrival. Passengers were given “Arriba Guaymas!” and the shore excursions left to applauding audiences.
If none of that sounds very interesting, maybe it’s because I’ve become a bit desensitized to the places we’ve hit so far. Tourist attractions are everywhere, signs are written in English with few bastardized Spanish phrases to hint at authenticity...it just never struck me as very real until Guaymas. Guaymas is real, and not afraid to show it. There’s dirt, cracked pavement, nearly no visible English, no souvenir shops or tourist-friendly locales. Other than an excursion kiosk right off the ship there’s really not much to see or do other than walk into the town itself and see something completely untouched (so far) and genuine.
Honestly, I dug it. No water taxi haggling, no one selling straw hats or sunglasses, just an actual, real, legitimate town. I got off the ship, walked around, and eventually ended up in a run down local bar with a few guys from the ship. We drank a few Pacificos, watched some kids play soccer, scoped out a lawn sale, then got back on the ship. Low key day, relatively uneventful, but nice. Calm. A completely welcome respite from seeing a damn Senior Frogs at every port (Senior Frogs=Mexico’s version of Hooters).
If you know me, you know I’m white. Very white. Unmistakably white. Therefore, I had “gringo” clearly stamped on my forehead. Still...I didn’t get any dirty looks. People smiled back at me, said “hola” or, if they spoke English, asked if I was from the ship. Everyone, literally everyone, at least acknowledged my presence in some friendly way. And, still, when I got back on the ship I heard passengers complaining about Guaymas, how there was nothing to do if you didn’t go on some shore excursion or find your way to the beach. I can’t lie, this pissed me off a little bit. Fine, there might not be attractions or big downtown areas, but at the very least you could just look around and enjoy the surroundings. Enjoy the fact that this part of Mexico is still Mexico, gritty, perhaps, but real, not modified for tourism. Maybe I’m being a bit of a punk writing that, but the thought struck me that day.

(Written October 17th)
Let me reiterate: I love my job.

Blues Cruise: good for the soul, bad for the liver.

Mexico is nice. Not nice in the sense of cleanliness or ease of navigation once you get away from the touristy part of town near the port, but nice in the sense of....y’know...nice. Pretty, even. Sort of what you’d expect to see in Mexico. This is all a good chance to work on my haggling skills with taxi drivers, find restaurants with menus entirely in Spanish and drink café con leche on street corners. Most of the places the Ryndam will visit the next two months, I hear, are mostly touristy and safe. Understandable; as relaxed as Holland America may be about most things, they do need to watch their backs once in a while. Still, I’m interested in seeing what kind of trouble I can get into, then safely get away from. I’ve heard some good stories from the other guys in the band about this certain café or that certain bar where no one speaks English but you can get a full meal and good drinks for obscenely cheap prices. The other day in Mazatlan the band’s new keyboard player and I got massages at this place called The Aroma Spa for $15. After spending an hour having someone beat the hell out of my back and wrap me in hot towels I was walking much slower and not caring about the mile-long trek back to the port.
This past week was the Legendary Rhythm and Blues Cruise, a charter cruise that brought on a long list of blues acts with head liners like Etta James, Los Lobos and Koko Taylor. Music started everyday by at least 5:30 and kept going, one way or another, until 5 or so in the morning. Almost every place set up for the bands was packed with amplifiers and speakers, sometimes with the soundboard set up dangerously close to the bar.
In short, I don’t really work this week, but I get paid anyway. Which is nice.
The first few days were just killer. Koko Taylor and her band tore everything up, and the Los Lobos show was one of the loudest things I’ve ever heard (according to one of the stage managers our speakers are now, officially, shot). However, after almost an entire week of hearing blues music, I long to hear a ii chord. The energy is still there, but I’m getting a bit run over by how things are starting to run together. There’s been a ton of great shows I’ve seen so far, but I was really tripped up by seeing Etta James. It was just....odd. She really played up the sexuality to her act to the point where it just wasn’t appealing. It’s been, like it is with a lot of festivals, more enjoyable to listen to the smaller-name groups get up there and tear it up. One of the best acts I saw this week was a singer-guitarist named David Jacobs-Strain who sang this deep-down Delta-style blues while looking like an accountant. I don’t know why, but there’s something about a dorky-looking white guy playing guitar that I can relate to.
Still, it’s the passengers who make this cruise totally worth sticking around. The vibe everywhere is awesome; everyone is here for the same reason, and damn if they don’t know how to party. I heard from the beverage manager that their plan was to sell $85,000 worth of liquor on this cruise, and after the first night alone they sold $45,000. Certain hallways completely reek of suntan lotion and weed. The cabin stewards are either thrilled because they’re being tipped very well, or horrified because they’re cleaning up things they just don’t understand.
This week has been unreal.
But I can deal.