Turn, Turn, Turn

I'm writing this after being back in the states for a while but I am waiting to post it and backdate it due to the fact that I am making a surprise visit to graduation and don't want to give myself away.

The day trip to Saba was a lot of fun. The diving reminded me a little of Bali, minus a lot of fish. Landing on the tiny runway was great and then riding in the car was dizzying. You see, the tiny island is nearly like a cone and all roads up or down snake back and forth all the way up and down the mountain.

Likewise, the final days of St Maarten were essentially as expected although it all seemed very sudden. I'm so used to packing up and leaving places that it didn't phase me a lot. It wasn't until the plane was lifting off the ground that I fully grasped the fact that St Maarten had just turned into a chapter of my past.

I flew into Charlotte and stayed in the house of Mike's parents (Mike is the boyfriend of my sister). Over the past 11+ months, I've seen malls, cities, buildings, cars, paved roads, and fast-food chains. Those were not particularly special. However, seeing a neighborhood was captivating. Houses were lined up one after another with yards full of lush green grass with signs of lawn mowers.

Guyton and Susie's wedding was wonderful. Relatives I hadn't seen in ages were there and I had the pleasure of meeting some new folks as well.

The real bit of interest comes after arriving at home. Flying into CAK from Charlotte, I was separate from my parents and my flight arrived a few hours prior to theirs. Without a car or phone, the only way to get home from the airport was to arrange a ride and in stepped Mark to the rescue.


I have to recover the other half of this post. It will come later.

Singing the Blues

As I've said before, I have very little excuse to complain based on where I'm living, what I'm doing, and how much fun I'm having along the way. However good days wouldn't be good unless you have bad days to give perspective. If there were 365 days of happiness a year, life would be boring. Feelings of sadness, frustration, or anger are not only normal but necessary for a healthy balanced emotional life. Sure this is coming from someone who hardly knows the difference between Freud and Pavlov or Plato and Confucius, but considering how much I love life no matter what obstacle it throws at me, I would say that I have at least a little room to talk.

Where were we... ah yes, singing the blues. It would be painfully dull for everyone to get a narration of the goings-on of every downer I've had and I wouldn't wish anyone to read a post like that. What is much more relevant is how I Feel about things. The problem is that I don't really know how to describe my feelings in words. I've experienced a high concentration of humbling conversations over the past week. It started during my last few days on Passion and continued well into my first several days back at my old job. It's a varied combination of people being tired of me, sick of talking to me, disagreeing with my actions, reprimanding me for not doing something a particular way, and scolding me for asking questions. I can deal with quite a bit being dished at me, but the fact that it is incessant is getting under my skin. All of these feelings lead me to believe that I'm not very professional, competent, fun to talk to, or a hard worker. I know myself and I know that I have all the best of intentions and I'm always just trying to do my best but sometimes it's simply not enough of a consolation. Sometimes, people can just make you feel so small that you can't even be seen, then someone else comes along and takes the liberty of crushing you down even smaller. It's interesting how every once in a while a ton of negativity comes crashing down at once.

These thoughts then lead me further to the heart of those feelings to discover that I am weak and alone. I have no friends or family here. I am alone in the crowd. There is no one here to talk to, to hug. No one who understands who I really am.

In a couple days I'll be completely over it all (actually I already feel better), but for now I'll keep hanging in there. As I was saying before, without the bad days, good days just wouldn't taste as sweet.

Post-date

I threw a post up for the 26th of Feb. I know it's out of order but I forgot that I never wrote about it. I'm working on getting caught up:
Finding Blaskie
Playing for Money
Yacht Life (this probably won't come for at least a week since I'm not going to start working on a yacht until Monday)

The latest news on my life plans are this: try to get into University of Miami to take a semester of oceanography classes. If I decide it's awesome, I'll stay another semester and so on. If I don't like it, I'll get the STCW yachting certification and spend many months on a yacht while I figure out what I want to do with my life. If I don't get into U of Miami, maybe I'll just be a scuba instructor until Christmas time. Or apply somewhere else that's not as good.

3.14

Today marks the completion of 23 years of being alive. Hooray! I made it! I'm feeling a bit older but I still have the world at my fingertips.

I haven't yet told anyone it's my birthday b/c I'm sure that as soon as I do, people will start insisting that I go out and insisting on drinking drinks that they insist on buying for me. It is easier to just let it go and celebrate with people I know when I go home.

Work is going very well so far, exploring the island has not happened yet, I get my first paycheck on Monday, and I'm trying very hard to find a cheaper and better place to live.

As for post-summer plans, I don't have anything figured out yet. I am really considering taking a semester of oceanography courses and then 6 months or a year of working on a yacht to decide what I really love. Yes, it would postpone grad school (if I go - remember it has always been only a possibility, never a definite plan).

Until next time, keep checking back for more, take care, and live your life with a purpose.

Standard Life Crisis

This post is much more for my own immediate good than anything else. It not so much an update as it is me recognizing the necessity to put all of my possible plans down in writing. It is a perfect day to think about my life because it is very gloomy and rainy outside. The possibilities start with the simplest and go up to the most extreme.

At the end of the summer, I will continue with my original plan of being a basic scuba instructor somewhere (perhaps Red Sea or Great Barrier Reef) for about 3-4 months. Christmas will be spent at home (hopefully including a quick ski trip somewhere!) and then grad school would start in late February in New Zealand. After two years of obtaining a masters degree, I have no plans.

By the time late August rolls around, I will get on a plane to London Heathrow. During the final month of the racing season in England, my work is going to consist of cleaning boats (decks and hulls) while perhaps gaining experience sailing on any boat that offers me a position. The money and experience will be well worth the travel expenses. When the weather turns for the worst and the boats leave in search of warmer waters, I will move probably to the Red Sea and spend 2-3 months working as a dive instructor before going home for Christmas (hopefully including a quick ski trip somewhere!). Grad school would then start in late February in New Zealand. After the two years that it takes to receive a masters degree, I have no plans.

Immediately after Broadreach is over in late August, I will spend a semester taking university classes in oceanography and/or marine biology. The benefits here are that the subject matter is interesting, I will receive a proper introduction to marine sciences, the benefits of being a student would be back (discounts, clubs, organizations, many cool people my age, etc), health insurance would be covered under my parents' plan until I'm 25, and as long as the university is near water I could keep up with diving and boating. However, the downside is that I will be paying a lot of tuition, living in an expensive American apartment, I will have to deal with winter, and I won't be living somewhere exotic like the life I've been getting used to. After going home for Christmas (hopefully including a quick ski trip somewhere!), I will either move out to New Zealand in late February for a masters or decide that I like the school so much that I end up staying there for a degree. Two years after completing a masters, I have no plans.

My last option that I've given to myself is going to be the farthest from my original plan. Before training starts in May, I'm going to fly up to Florida to get what's called the STCW95, a basic qualification required by most boats in order to work even as a simple deckhand. Once I finish working with Broadreach in late August, I'm not sure where exactly I will go but what I will do is definite. With my degree in Physics, experience as a diving instructor, loose grasp of the French language, and the STCW95, I will find a long-term position on a yacht. While on this yacht, not only will I be building experience but I will be training as an engineer. Once leaving the yacht, I will be able to get my yachtmaster qualification and then do more training as an engineer. I'm not sure about the details but training off and on boats will continue for 5-6 years at which point I will be able to work as chief or second engineer on a large (150 ft) yacht of my choosing. The benefits are that my job consists of fixing things, I will be living on a yacht, my work by nature will consist of traveling to beautiful coastal areas, there is a very high demand for engineers that will only increase over the next 5-10 years, if I decide yachts aren't my thing, I'll have plenty of training that can be applied to a lot of other things, vacation time is long and frequent (sometimes 2 months on and two months off), and depending on the boat I could easily be making 6 figures before 2017. On the other hand, it's a huge commitment and I don't really know what the yachting life is like – I don't scare easily but making a decision like this would be the most frightening thing I've ever done.

I'm not an idiot – this fork in the road is not like a game show where I pick what's behind doors 1-4 and that's that. I of all people am well aware that things change. If I don't end up taking one of the four proposed paths or any combination thereof, other opportunities come up which can change everything. One thing is for certain though: whatever I end up doing before Christmas, it will affect (not necessarily determine) the rest of my life. Let me also say that I of all people understand the beauty of life as a full journey. I'm not looking at these options like “Oh no I have to pick one!!!!” but my attitude is more along the lines of “Alright, here are some of my top options. Which one will I most enjoy?” Ideas and input are always welcome but I think prayer is going to be my best bet.

Oh the Possibilities

One of my diving students is really cool. I've been hanging out with him a ton since he came in last week. He works on boats and we were talking last night about the jobs that are available for divers in the sailing/yachting industry. He told me that during the English racing season, work is easy to find cleaning boats or even working on the boats as part of the crew. Apparently it is very lucrative and he pretty much guaranteed that he could find me a job for a month after summer camp is over. I haven't made any plans post-summer camp and so working for a month in England for all the boats coming through sounds quite appealing. Certainly there's a lot to think about and many other ideas to consider. I'll keep the blog very up to date with any ideas that come my way.

Parmesan Rolls

I got back from a great night dive and all of the markets seem to close at 9 and thus I was stuck to eat whatever I had left waiting for me at the crew house. This consisted of two rolls, a small container of parmesan cheese, and juice. Here's my secret recipe for my marvelous gourmet dinner so you too can share my experiences wherever you are:
Tear two stale rolls horizontally by hand and place on a plate.
Sprinkle parmesan cheese liberally onto one half and place the other half on top.
Microwave for 12 seconds.
Do not let cool.
Serve with cold juice.

This is what my meals are turning into. I make it work, but I've seen better culinary days. I'm probably going to swing by Subway right now on my way to the dive center. It's a shame, isn't it. In my defense, St Maarten doesn't have much traditional food of their own so I'm not really missing much by going to an American chain. I would not do it in Indonesia or Philippines unless overtaken by nostalgia.

Settling In

Believe it or not, things have actually been going my way since I've been on the island. I ran into an unexpectedly rough start when the airlines lost my guitar. Otherwise I made it safely to the crew house and got settled in. The island seems to be very Americanized. I've been living for 4 months where left is right and right is wrong so now I'm dancing with everyone on the sidewalk trying to get out of their way since I want to stay left and they want to walk on their right. Looking left before crossing streets is also proving to be difficult too but I'm a quick re-learner and I haven't caused any accidents yet. English is the most widely used language, American chains abound (ACE, McDonalds, Subway, Baskin Robbins, KFC, etc etc etc), and the thing that tops it all off is that the US dollar is the most widely used currency here.

3 Caribbean reef sharks looking for a snack

Thanks to a distant connection, I got in touch with Dive Safaris and was able to go with them on a dive in search of sharks. Boy was that ever a success! We found 5 (out of many) sharks that apparently hang out at a particular reef on a regular basis. I thought to myself that if this dive was any indication on what was to come, I have found the right place to dive. As it turns out, St Maarten does not have the best diving. After several days of diving (for work and for fun), I can equate it to the diving on the Gili Islands. There are some redeeming traits such as wrecks, sharks, stingrays, and barracudas, but by and large it's nothing compared to the pristine diving I found in the Philippines.

The crew house I'm in is expensive but the money from the part-time work at the dive center is juuust enough to cover it plus food. They keep me very busy there. In other words, I keep myself very busy there by helping fill tanks, set up gear, wash equipment, carry tanks, etc. The more I help out, the more chance I have to be the first one in line for work there. The people I'm living with are a different breed. I can't really explain them, but maybe I'll be around them enough for a story or two to come up.

The only other thing on my mind is that I'm reeeeeeaaaaaly thinking of going for the STCW95. This is the most basic qualification that is usually required by all boats, sailing or motor. My dream has always been to work as a dive instructor on a sailboat and this seems to be the next step to see that dream come true. I have to look into it a bit more, but I really would like to pursue it.

Exit Strategy

I didn't get the chance to post this right away when it happened, then I simply forgot about it since then. I'm post-dating this update so it falls properly into the chronology. So although it's about 3 weeks late, here's the story of my eventful voyage from Sydney to Sint Maarten.

Knowing I could find the cheapest ride to the airport via shuttle, I searched the internet for the cheapest ones. Twelve Australian dollars was the total for a shuttle called JetBus that would pick me up at the door and take me directly to the airport – much better than the 40+ dollars for the cost of a taxi. Accounting for an hour to make the 45-minute drive to the airport, two hours before the flight left, and another 30 minutes in case traffic was very bad, I told the shuttle to arrive 3 hours and 15 minutes before my flight was planning to take off. Twenty minutes after they were supposed to pick me up I rang the company to politely ask what the story was and to see when I would be picked up. After being on hold for no more than a minute, the man on the other end said the driver was 15 minutes away and coming to pick me up now. 30 minutes later, I call them back and sternly asked where my ride was. He paged the driver and told me the street he was on and said he would be there in about 5 but no more than 10 minutes later. At this point Steve saw me getting a bit uneasy and demanded we play cards. 15 minutes later I hear a car honking at me across the street. I threw my bags in the car and after saying thank you and goodbye to Steve, stepped in the back seat for a very awkward car ride.

As he was an hour late, I really didn't feel like speaking to him at all and kept every conversation to a minimum. I told him where I needed to go, what airline I was going on, answered a couple of his questions in about 3 words or less, and left it at that. I didn't really care about anything else he was saying and frankly as a customer I didn't want to hear it. Throughout the trip, he openly admitted that he wasn't going to take this job but had a friend coming in on a flight and thus decided to take it so he could meet his friend at the airport and make some money along the way. In light of the heavy traffic, the driver said that he would take the back roads. This was fine by me until he admitted that he was doing a bit of guess work. He felt comfortable guessing from his 11 years of taxi driving experience in Sydney... which ended 16 years ago. It would have also been fine had he been using GPS or a map. It might have even been alright if he wasn't cursing the other drivers on the road and making U-turns. I might have even gotten out of the car somewhat satisfied if he'd looked for the airline entrance for more than a few seconds before telling me that “that's good enough, it shouldn't be too far from here.” Because I accounted for so much extra time, I checked in and made it to my gate with a few minutes left over to watch some olympic curling before boarding.

I managed to have an open seat beside me on the way to Honolulu and was therefore able to sleep on the way there. I already wrote about getting in touch with people in St Maarten and eating sushi with Meg and Conor but I didn't mention that the airlines had lost my guitar. When I got onto the plane that evening bound for Charlotte, it was the same story – another empty seat beside me which is always conducive to sleep. By the time I made it to Charlotte the next morning, the temperature was 31F and about 90% of the people in the airport were wearing heavy winter coats and gloves as opposed to my shorts and (thank goodness!) thin sweatshirt. Anytime a door would open to the outside I would bundle up tight and rub the exposed skin on my legs to keep warm. It wasn't until the plane took off that I was finally at ease again about the weather, knowing that I was on my way to sunny blue skies.

At baggage claim, I filled out a form for my missing guitar giving them all the information I had in order to get in touch with me. The crew house I ended up in had an ample amount of beds so I grabbed a bite to eat and settled in for what I thought was only going to be a short time before finding an apartment.

Dawning of a New Age

For about a dozen years, I have looked at life through a particular metaphor. I've never been much of a surfer but I know how powerful and impressive waves can be. The way I have seen it is that you have a surf board and every obstacle in life is a wave. Either stand up and take a glorious ride or bob up and down watching all the excitement of life pass by. Of course in deciding to ride a wave, there is a serious inherent danger of falling off and being churned around and eaten up alive completely at the mercy of the raging waves.

I've been silent about many serious apprehensions about moving to St Maarten. My biggest worries have been seeded in lack of communication, not knowing where to stay, not knowing who to talk to upon arrival, and not knowing where to look for work. Unlike my preparations in moving to the Philippines and Indonesia that involved sending out about 50 emails each, I have only contacted one person in St Maarten, and he is currently on holiday in France. When I tried to phone the crew housing (budget housing geared toward any crew members working on the island) before leaving Sydney, none of the three numbers resulted in an answer. Going to Gili Trawangan, I was not worried about finding a place to live: the island is set up for backpackers and I found a place my first day for $100/month. From what I've heard about St Maarten and the other Caribbean islands, cheap hotels can go for $200/night. Needless to say, the lack of certainty was terribly daunting as I packed and geared up for my marathon flight.

Upon arrival to Hawaii, I stuck to my plan of immediately finding a phone to call St Maarten. After a 30 minute quest to find a phone, I was able to convince the crew at American Airlines to let me use their private staff room to make the calls. As if it was written, it wasn't until the third call (remember I was given only 3 numbers) that I got an answer, but boy what an answer it was. The woman on the other end of the phone informed me that her crew house was full but upon asking if there was another place I could stay, she offered to personally find me a place to stay and set me up with an address to give customs upon entry into the country when filling out the arrival paperwork. The plan was to call her upon arrival in St Maarten and find out where to go. I promptly got in touch with my cousin Meg (thanks again to the generosity of my new American Airlines friends) and organized to meet for lunch. Meg is the cousin I lived with for two months in Hawaii while her husband Conor was in Afghanistan. Thankfully, the three of us we were able to meet up for about 45 minutes for sushi near the airport.

I was so happy that I was practically dancing through the airport. Every detail is falling right into place. Boy did I ever catch that wave. I am riding one of the biggest meanest curling waves of my life with joy and excitement pumping through my veins as I stand on my board like a professional accepting all risk and embracing every bit of the exhilarating ride.