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BLOG 14
Charleston met our expectations in terms of the weather, hot and very humid, indeed to the point of being oppressive. Temperaturdes touching 100 degrees with 80% humidity made our visit somewhat uncomfortable, walking to the shops was aerobically challenging and imbibing serious quantities of water was an absolute necessity.Nonetheless we knew that the weather would deterioate as we sailed further North so we made best of the sunshine and the warmth on our backs.
Charleston has a population of some 120,000 and is the second largest city in the state of South Carolina, a major Atlantic port servicing a constant stream of huge container ships toing and froing from the Far East. It is known as the Holy City as the inordinate number of chuches dominate the low rise skyline, steeples visible everywhere throughout downtown and the suburbs. The city is also steeped in history, the majority of battles in the American Civil War were fought in this area and remarkably after all this time there is still a degree of loyalty to the Confederacy and some bitterness toward the 'North'. Slavery was commonplace in the South and these unfortunate people were put to work in the cotton fields, a regrettable part of history of course and perhaps the undertones in this part of America still lie below the surface.
A local guided us through the streets of the City, pointing out the beautiful colonial mansions and their long shady veranders, the French Quarter, art galleries and some of the many antique shops, but this is America and to be honest having spent two weeks at sea, there is a time and place for history and that was not now.No all I wanted was a guided tour of fast food outlets in particular Ben and Jerrys and Dunkin Donuts, and as I saw the neon signs I dropped off the back of the tour party and slipped into the Ice Cream parlour. Unable to choose from the fabulous menu I thought I would hedge my bets and have two, Choclate Chip and Black Cherry, bolting down the first just in time to eat the second which was in danger of melting in the searing heat.Revelling in the gluttony of this junk food free for all, I then went next door and ordered six Dunkin Donuts and ravaged them one by one with the finesse of a monitor lizard.The intial sense of satisfaction was of couse shortly replaced with a nausea akin to my experiences with the cook's Hungarian Ghoulash in the Southern Atlantic and deep breaths were neccesary in order to prevent a social fopar.
As dinner time approached I was minded to eat less voraciously and keep it simple. As luck would have it I found an eatery called Sticky Fingers, a regular haunt of ex President George Bush and it doesn't get much simpler than that.Ribs was the order ofthe day and in usual Amercan style it came to the table accessorised with a trailer load of fries, a bucket of coleslaw and a vat of home made lemonade which could be refilled as many times as you like for free. And of course this is why many Americans (and Brits for that matter) are becoming obese, choosing to ignore, or at the most pay lip service to the ever increasing warnings of a health time bomb.
To prove a point,I was gleefully tucking into my ribs (or rather half a pig) when the sunshine streaming through the windows became blocked plunging our table into darkness. My initial thought was an eclipse but as I looked up I saw a guy weighing some 35 to 40 stone sitting down at the table beside us. As he lowered himself onto the seat his rather large behind enveloped the chair to such an extent that he looked like he was sitting on a milk stool readying himself to empty Ermintrude's udders. The chair creaked as he adjusted his position for maximum comfort, (well I assumed it was the chair) and there was an inevitability that fire wood would be its only useful purpose when he left..... assuming they could excracate it from within!! As a matter of interest I earwigged as the waitress came to his table and was quite frankly amazed as he ordered four racks of ribs with all the trimmings. If I had been the waitress I think I would have been tempted to say, "will your friends be joining you shortly sir" but her face remained expressionless as though this was the norm. "And would you like a drink with that"........"Diet coke will do nicely" came the reply. Im not sure as to the effectiveness of this compromise but at least its a step in the right direction.
In the middle of the night I was asked to meet a new crew member as the nearest road was some way away from the ship. Unfortunately her flight was delayed so I sat on the kerb alone litsening to Police sirens wailing across the City wondering what fate had befallen some poor victim. As I sat there I became aware of an ageing man struggling along the sidewalk carrying all his wordly goods in a knapsack and holding a McDonalds paper cup which had a few cents in the bottom. He had a certain aroma to him and was clearly a beggar,and I tensed up a little as he sat down beside me. The street was poorly lit and devoid of any life other than the odd scavenging raccoon and I had visions of being threatened with a knife and at best my money stolen. Perhaps the sirens would then be for my benefit. Maybe surprisingly this guy just wanted some company, a chat nothing more, his chosen occupation perhaps a barrier to freindship and we discussed a variety of issues over a couple of cigarettes. He bemoaned the credit crunch as it had affected his income, people are cutting back he said, they are looking after the pennies instead of throwing them into his cup. He talked of becoming tired of sitting in the street every day saying the same thing time and time again to uninterested passers by, who often cross the street to avoid any interaction.He had hopes of a better lot now Barack Obahma had been elected. He wanted a home, healthcare and some security, things we take for granted but somehow I don't think his dreams will be realised. As he disappeared into the night I wished him well and felt good for giving him the company he so obviously craves and also thought of the old adage ''never judge a book by its cover.'
Now whilst in port we open the ship to the thousands of people keen to get a feel for life on board these wonderful ships. There are set times and people queue for long periods hoping to cross the gangway. I had responsibility for meeting and greeting and giving tours, and just as we were closing for the day two delightful old ladies in their eighties turned up and were disappointed that having made the trek to the ship they were not going to be able to come on board. Being the big softie I asked the Captain if we could make an exception and I was able to give the ladies a good look round finishing in the Deck House where we had a drink. I thought I would make polite conversation and asked them what they got up to round here, the response was not what I was expecting. "Oh we still love shagging".............which was a bit of a conversation stopper and conjured up images I would rather not think about. I was going to say that we liked doing that at home too but thought better of it as there had to be some explanation for this somewhat outlandish statement. Indeed so, 'shagging' in South Carolina is in fact a very popular 1940's swing/jazz dance which works on six counts and involves convoluted leg kicks and fancy footwork whilst keeping the hips and upper body still. I was grateful for the enlightenment but a tad bemused as to how these two managed high convoluted kicks.Ah well you are only old once!!
Its a little bit odd that having spent time at sea you crave time ashore but it has a shelf life and after a couple of days you start getting itchy feet and setting sail again becomes very welcome. Yes we had enjoyed Charleston but having experienced such solitude, free of all the clutter that our day to day lives encompass, city life can be claustrophobic and we were all glad to spread our wings back on the ocean. We said our final goodbyes to the Bermuda crew, who had been a marvellous bunch, and introduced ourselves to thirty five new crew.Safety checks complete we left the berth in the afternoon of Monday 29th June 2009 bound for Boston, Massutuchetts.
Little did we know at that time that we would be back in Charleston within four hours.
Doddy
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