Yesterday we pulled out of China for the last time. Next stop Masan, Korea. It's another country that's terribly over-populated, but I'll report from there. Rumor has it that they don't like Americans and we may be forced to stay on board the ship, but we'll get to that later.

Two rules of thumb when making a trip like this. Don't do it in the dead of winter. Not only is it so fucking cold it would freeze the balls off a brass monkey, but the vegetation is bleak and the grass looks as brown as desert sand. I'm sure some of the areas I report on would look much better with a taste of greenery. Second rule, make sure that the cabins on the ship have heaters. I'm discovering that I'm a person who likes the warmth and prefers heat over cold. Goddamnit, I'll bundle up for anything, but when I return to my cabin I want the comfort of warmth and a woman. Is that too fuckin' much to ask?

By the 24th of March I will have been bobbing from port to port for four months. I'm still bugging the captain about picking up a crate bound for San Pedro. Here's the schedule as it stands: We're a day from Korea. We'll off load there for three days then steam for 18 hours to Yokohama, Japan for 24 hours of loading cargo bound for the U.S. Then after six hours of sailing to Hitachi for another 24 hours of loading and we're bound for 17 days in calm seas to the Panama Canal. We'll burn a day due to dealing with agents and inspectors trying to roll through the locks and into Lake Gatume, and out the locks and into the Caribbean bound for Houston another six days away.

Enough dreaming about being home and in the arms of my babe, let's get to the China report. At last report, I mentioned the town of Qingdao, then 17 hours after departure we arrive at the peninsula that contains the port of Dalian.

This is the Zhong Shan Square in Dalian. Check out the buildings in the background.

By now I'm a blur of big cities all trying to over-rate the next one with the highest high-rise building or TV tower. This was the first city that contained no tours and after walking for a bit we discovered there was no need for a tour. It was a mess, but don't get me wrong. Again the people seem pleased with the progress.

I'm reading a book about the history of Hong Kong as part of my research for my book project. In this book, "Hong Kong Remembers" it is explained that until 1980 there were no labor unions in Hong Kong. The book says that the labor unions in mainland China are run by the government, so not really unions at all. It's only been in the last twenty years that the working man has enjoyed any rights or benefits. Think about it. If five years ago you still worked in a sweat shop 14 hours a day, 7 days a week without any benefits, you'd be mighty happy now if progress was afoot. So you wouldn't be too concerned if you still worked in a building without air conditioning and the air quality stunk. The same philosophy applies to living conditions. These people are moving fast and ten years from now, they will be light years ahead of the curve and I'm sure making corrections that we are now facing in some of our over-built cities.

Dalian was again a city of transformation, but not a handsome joint in the winter, although prices were very reasonable and taxis cheap. It is based near the Gulf of Liaudong which was once controlled by the Russians until the Japanese took over in the '30s. We visited an old street of Russian buildings. The classic ornate structures were being refurbished and turned into shops.

While roaming from shop to shop we met a young man who spoke English very well. He took us to a small restaurant where we ordered two dishes and they delivered enough food for a half dozen people, plus we had hot tea. The bill was slightly over two bucks US. So we went to the ultra luxurious Furama Hotel and had cappuccino and desert for $15.

A light desert at the Furama Hotel in Dalian

Once more, Dalian was very European with all the retail outlets we've seen in a number of countries, but the side streets are really where it's at. The ship's catastrophe afforded us in Dalian was the discovery that a 38 tons of sheet metal was buried deep in the hull under another level of cargo bound for other ports. It was the mistake of our planning superintendent in Europe. It took the stevedores eight hours to shift the cargo to reach the slabs of steel, and another eight hours of delay to unload the cargo, held us up for a day. The word on the ship is that Rickmers is a shifting company, not shipping. In the superintendent's defense, it was the holiday season and all his comrades took the time off saddling him with over eight ships to manage and all the cargo. No an easy task.

The rusting Leon at the dock between stevedore shifts.

Our next port was again only a handful of hours away. Tianjin is located on the coast of the Gulf of Chihli or Bo Hai. The fog was unbelievable. For two days we couldn't see a dam thing. Concerned that we were facing yet an additional Chinese port I pointed to a crate 80 feet long and asked the captain about the destination printed on the side which said Xingang. The captain in his usual humorous demeanor laughed, "That's the port, Tianjin is just nearby." Actually Tianjin was over an hour away. It's confusing as hell. The port is called the Port of Tianjin, but is actually in Xingang and the nearest town is Tanggu. Tianjin might as well be on the other side of the world.

The Fog created a mysterious haze without color. Only the bleak shapes of ships could be seen.

The first day we took a cab to Tianjin. The roads were rough and all the cabs needed new shocks. The highways were well planned and under each interchange there was a park and some kind of sculptured art. Unfortunately due to the season the grass was far less than brilliant green and the trees stark wooden skeletons. Along the roads were building projects next to hovels surrounded by trash and dirt, next to abandoned industrial buildings, next to flea markets, next to older industrial buildings being torn down, next to strips of retail shops and lastly next to partially constructed industrial projects that looked deserted. There were people everywhere crossing the highway, on foot (brave souls) on bicycles, and motorcycles.

Cabbies peeled along constantly on the horn, driving on the wrong side of the street to pass a slower moving vehicle. I discovered that drivers making lefts and u-turns felt they had as much right-away as the through traffic. Being a biker I have much the same devil-may-care mentality as these drivers. You learn to dodge bullets wherever they come, much like these guys did jetting around and through traffic, bicycles and pedestrians whenever they got a shot. I sat back and enjoyed the ride.

Tianjin was nothing to shout about. The food was great in the Hyatt hotel and the Astor had a Hua Fu dress I was trying to pick up for Sin Wu, but I decided to look further unsuccessfully. The streets again were jammed with bicycles and shops, but the people were comfortable and friendly, although we discovered that few knew English.

This is a common site throughout Chinese cities. A shop like this could be two doors from a new high-rise or a high fashion designer store.

The next day was a surprise. The coal dust whipped through the bumpy streets as it was being delivered to the port by trucks. We decided to hit the local town and we were picked up by a cute little female driver who was to deliver us to Tanggu. She didn't leave the port through the gate but cut through a field of crushed buildings then across a series of old railroad tracks guarded by a small dilapidated building that was dark and crumbling. Even the post that blocked the road seemed to be on its last leg.

Perfect example of old and new mixed with a constant sprinkling of coal dust.

We were use to seeing destitute buildings parked next to new structures, but this was different. As we crossed the intersection to another gate or toll road we entered a twilight zone of sorts. The toll gate or whatever the hell it was, was state of the art. The pavement was new and wide with several lanes. Each building post and archway was high-tech and of wild design. It was as if the students at a local college were challenged to come up with eye-catching new forms for each structure. Who ever designed this stuff was no slouch. Each building we passed had a distinctly different design. Arches of stainless steel and white tile were cast over the road way as we rolled closer to town.

Each arch and building we came to was more modern, almost space aged. Someone was pouring a mint into the redevelopment and growth of the new Tanggu. It was unfortunate that it was winter and brisk. With some color, the area would have been downright impressive except for one demise. Coal dust was on everything. They needed to go back to the college with a new challenge, get this coal dust to market without killing people and making the city look like shit.

As we entered the downtown area and I was impressed beyond dreams. This portion of the city was a well-planned burgeoning area of high-rise and luxury hotels. Unfortunately, who the hell wants to travel around the globe to explore the new section of downtown Houston again? Tanggu is distant enough from tourism that few speak English and the hotel maps are only written in Chinese symbols. We were told of an area for shopping and grabbed another cab after obtaining little assistance from Hotel Tedu. The shopping area was just like a new mall in the states with marble pathways and department stores. Sure there were differences, but not the type we were looking for.

It wasn't until the following day that we saw how the people of the city shopped. We went to a flea market of sorts in a down area of town. This time the cabbie escorted us through the crowed street and buffered us from the beggars who were plenty aggressive, pushing and shoving their empty tin cans in our direction. The swapmeet/fleamarket was a kick of wild booths containing anything from old electrical appliances and tools to ancient Chinese coins, brass dragons, knock-off watches, knives, toys, relics, carvings and bicycle parts. I scored a couple of small solid brass dragons for some kids in the states for less than four bucks apiece.

We departed there and went in search of Hua Fu dresses for Sin, after lunch in a revolving restaurant at the Tedu Hotel on the 33th floor over-looking the entire Tanggu fog soaked basin and the port. Wang our waitress was dressed in exactly the gown I was after. She was just as much of a knockout as Sin and I couldn't keep my eyes off her. The silk dress slid down her body as if it was my touch moving over her shapely hips. Unfortunately she spoke very little English, although I started asking her about the dress. She called for assistance, and no, I wasn't asked to leave. Another cute Asian woman came to my aid. I drew a sketch of the dress I was after and we started to discuss options. Unfortunately everyone I asked told me to go back to Tianjin, but time wasn't working in my favor. I was burning daylight.

Our devoted cabbie who was most helpful took me to several locations without a whisper of luck, then we hit on one of the myriad of bridal shops in town and scored some success, but no particular assortment and I had to purchase just the right one for Sin. I was forced to resort to plan B, of which I'm not sure of yet.

As usual, we were informed that departure would take place by noon the next day, but that wasn't the case. We motored out of the harbor being escorted by two tug boats about 1600. A misty haze hung over the harbor again as we left and pulled out of another bleak harbor covered with coal dust. Even our Leon was coated with the black powder as we pulled away and out past the breakwater and the lighthouse. We passed 29 ships at anchor waiting for dock space, cargo and stevedore agreements to enter the port. Fortunately our Rickmers agents were doing their job again.

Lighthouse just outside the Xingang Harbor near Tanggu called Tianjin Port.

As we motored out of the harbor, I stood on the bridge with the Captain, 2nd officer and pilot. The pilot was a very well dressed agent. I generally stand off to the side to that I'm out of the way as they deal with ship traffic, navigation, small boats and communications with the port. The Captain usually comes to me with reports of hazards, administration nightmares, customs or immigration tribulations. This time he mentioned to the agent that I was a passenger from America and the agent spoke good English and approached me. Most of the time the agents are very focused on their mission and simply bark orders and leave.

This agent wearing a navy blue double-breasted blazer with gold buttons and a golden patterned tie was impressive and friendly. The agents in each port dress differently. This guy looked like an executive not a seaman. He told me he had been an agent for 20 years and had never seen an American flag ship. He also mentioned that he had never experienced a crew of American seamen or officers. We don't build ships in the states anymore. We can't compete with China or Japan. Americans are not hired on the ships because they're too expensive. In fact, we noticed that few Germans are seaman for the same reason. Pilipino crews mostly man the ships and many have Polish officers.

I wish I had met this agent on the trip into port. I would have known exactly where to go and where to avoid. A critical learning process in every port is becoming acclimated. About the time you know the town or area, it's time to split.

A scene from a street we stumbled onto since we didn't have a guide to show us the right way.

It's too bad that guides are not available to assist. The ports and towns could make a lot more money off passengers if they could obtain the proper information quicker. A couple of passengers wanted to go to Peking, which is now Beijing and beyond to see the great wall, but due to misinformation were never able to get away from the ship or get the information in order to make the trip. As it turned out we would have had plenty of time if the data was available.

Next report from Masan, Korea.

On to Part 16