Day 10

Day 10 - Thursday, April 10 2008

Before we were even off the gangplank at Chiwan last night we were accosted by offers of ‘You want happee? Show you good time. Lookee, lookee!’ All of a sudden, the York and the Paranormal - Dubai’s leading institutions devoted to multi-cultural exchanges - seemed the epitome of genteel restraint. At least half dozen were competing for our attention, jostling to thrust cards and leaflets in our direction. And that was just the men!

We had taken them for stevedores. Probably were - just moonlighting as frontline recruitment officers for establishments unable to get their own PR people so close to the wharf.

I must admit, though, I was quite taken by the appeal of ‘Mariposa - Seamen’s Club and Shop, the Best Place for Relax and Happy, the Cheapest Place in Shekou.’ The card was well-printed in full colour, with sharp register and generally pleasing typography. It featured an intelligent-looking oriental lady perched pleasingly on a barstool - most likely an IT graduate who would be able to help me with wireless internet connections so I could get at the email backlog that must have built up over 10 days at sea.

What puzzled me was why a computer expert should be wearing skimpy denim shorts and an equally minimal T-shirt? Chief Signals Officer McLaughlin doesn’t dress like that when he comes round to fix my IT problems. Although that’s only as far as I know. I can’t speak for what he does the rest of the time.

I was about to recommend to Linda that Mariposa could be just the right place to start off the evening. Get the emails seen to and then we could concentrate on ‘Relax and Happy’ as the card said. There was another oriental lady on the back of the card - equally intelligent-looking - smiling and holding a bottle to her lips. That suggested we could get a drink there. Linda could sip a small gin and tonic while I was on the internet catching up with sport results and all the world news we’ve been missing.

Instead, she came over all ratty again. “Give me that bloody thing, and get a move on,” she snapped, snatching the card and bundling me into the back of a car.

I really don’t know what’s got into her these days, although I’ve heard of something that affects women this way. I think it’s called PMT and I can only hazard a guess that it stands for ‘Poor Maritime Temperament’. In the circumstances, that would seem a reasonable and quite understandable explanation after so long at sea. Not exactly sure though, and as we were obviously no longer going to Mariposa I couldn’t consult Mr Google for further enlightenment.

The back of the car turned out to be surprisingly roomy and comfortable. Quite a change from the rickshaws that were the dominant mode of transport when I was last here.
I thought I’d better cheer Linda up by complimenting her on finding a taxi so quickly and so close to our disembarkation point.

“It’s not a taxi, it’s the ship’s agent, you bloody idiot,” she hissed. Oh? The young man we met on board who delivered our shore passes? I hadn’t realised he was also going to be our driver and guide. “Well you do now, so shut up and behave yourself.”

So much for compliments and cheering up. Perhaps I’d been distracted by Mariposa musings while the arrangements were being explained, but it’s a well-known fact that IT difficulties just seem to follow me everywhere, as CSO McLaughlin will be the first to tell you. I was just trying to plan ahead.

Sure enough, more IT problems were to follow. When Linda explained our main mission, the ship’s agency lad suggested we go to his office. We agree, fire up the laptop and get ‘No wireless networks detected’. Our ever helpful guide gestures next door “We try other office.” He plugs in the ethernet cable and we’re in business - apart from one minor detail. “What’s the password?” Blank look, and shrug.

Linda! Where’s that card? Maybe the Mariposa lady will know!

We hit the road again, in search of an internet café or a reasonably upmarket hotel likely to have a wireless link. Driving here is remarkably civilised, or maybe we’re just too accustomed to Dubai mayhem. Heavy traffic, but at a sensible speed with lots of road manners. No cutting in, no indiscriminate lane switching, no hooting the instant the lights change.

We’re out of the harbour area and driving for about 20 minutes but still we’re flanked by containers and more containers, with the occasional office or residential building, corner shops, and street-side traders. Chiwan is container city all right, but the roads are tree-lined and there seems to be lots of greenery, although it’s hard to be sure in the light of the street lamps. Strange contradictions, but despite the obvious raison d’etre, it still doesn’t feel like a sterile industrial landscape.

“We go Shekou,” says our agency lad. Shekou? Why does that sound so familiar? Of course! The address on the Mariposa card. Things are looking up!

Instead, we arrive at the Haitao Hotel & Spa - ‘Famous for Massage’. Obviously, that should read ‘message’ as in email. Otherwise why would our guide be taking us here? Everyone knows that Chinese signage is notorious for spelling mistakes.

The other side of the street is brightly lit with neon signs for a row of shops with big picture windows. Not much by way of goods on display, but why worry. We’re not shopping mall habitues at homes, so why start here. There are lots of young ladies sitting outside, chatting animatedly and sipping Cokes or coffees as their generation tends to do the world over. I suspect there will be a college or university near by and they’re ‘chilling out’, as they say, after finishing their studies for the evening.
They obviously like Western music, for we can hear a loud and somewhat off-key rendering of a vaguely familiar pop song coming from somewhere. Still you have to admire their determination to learn the language. How many of us could make a passable attempt at a Chinese song, apart from ‘Just Another Brick in the Great Wall’?

I was getting distracted again, before realising that the agency lad was leading us into the Haitao Hotel. ‘You sit, have smoke. I will arrange.’ By the time the fag is finished we’re summoned to the lift and escorted to the 12th floor. The accompanying receptionist opens the door to a very plush room and indicates the internet apparatus on the desk. Hey, this is doing it in style! You don’t get such treatment at the Old Vic when you need an urgent internet connection. I trust you guys at home will tell Gopal and have it sorted by the time we get back.

While I’m firing up, the receptionist is on the phone to room service and asking Linda “You like drink?” (Does a panda eat bamboo shoots?) “Yes, please. Two pints of Tsingtao.”

I was now connected at a claimed 100 mb per second. By the time the beer arrived, two messages had landed - dated March 31. Could the speed be just a wee bit out, or was the system blocked by giant video files from Bob, showing the latest action from the Aberdeen sheep market? He does have a tendency to do that, as many of you know, so I can hardly be blamed for thinking along these lines.

By the time the beer was half finished, we were only up to April 2. This could take for ever, and we’re due back on board by midnight. The hotel bed looked big and inviting and maybe we could pass the time in more entertaining fashion. Except the agency lad was still being the ever-attentive minder. Although… the receptionist must be lurking somewhere. That held possibilities - so long as agency lad could be relied on. He certainly seemed to fancy Linda earlier.

It was gone 2300 before the last of the messages landed. No time to send anything but the most cursory of urgent acknowledgments. Thank you all for birthday greetings. Judging by the number of queries about where we are and how we’re doing, it would appear that many people are unaware of the blog and the daily updates. CSO McLaughlin will do another gang mail, just in case spam filters are keeping us apart, but meantime, those of you who are in contact can help by spreading the word.

Tonight’s excursion has cost $100 - after discount and telling agency lad to keep the change. He had settled for us in yuan. I’m not sure if we were being had, but for the hire of a hotel room for a couple of hours, beer, internet access, and transport - not to mention all the extra entertainment - it was a worthwhile night on shore. When we left the Haitao Hotel, the students were still lined up on the other side of the road. As I approached the car, they all ran to greet me, but retreated when Linda caught up. They must have mistaken me for one of their favourite lecherers.



Sorry, that should have been lecturers. This Chinese signage business can be infectious. It’s also well past my normal bedtime and we’re due to sail at 0200. At least the planned AE meeting before departure has been cancelled. The latest delivery did not qualify for eponymous status. It was Famous Grouse. Oh, well I’ll just have to manage by myself.

Noon position 22◦50.49 N - 116◦51.12 E
Day’s run to noon - 272 miles
5,010 miles out from Khor Fakkan
Heading 055◦
Local time GMT+8
Average speed - 16 knots

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