Chapter Eight – US (6/25)

July 14, 2025

The United States, chapter 8

San Diego, June,17 - San Francisco, June, 22

A helicopter is flying over an american flag in the sky.

We have just left San Diego. We are plowing through 12 foot swells to San Francisco. Rocking a bit. “Hobby horsing”, Jeff calls it. Great for sleeping. You plunge then rise, dream of riding the sea on a golden sea horse, its body streaming silver water past you, your arms around its neck, (which feels surprisingly soft, not scaley), it whinnys with joy, you are laughing, we cannot stop, it could make you insane. A seagull rises from nowhere, floating in the air. I am back inside the ship.

It is getting crowded in the observatory. Many passengers have come to watch our approach to the harbor of San Francisco. The Golden Gate Bridge is just visible, a smokey grey web between the coastal hills. People are talking, the quiet is gone. Approaching land from the sea holds every possibility, but only until you set foot there. Then memories, old experiences and habits kick in. This is where you were born, where you have lived most of your life. The water places and their mysteries are receding, pushed aside. Some passengers are reluctant to see it go, others are talking about going sightseeing, renting a sea plane or a tour. We will be under the bridge soon. There is mystery and sadness there. That is where trolls live and some people will take shelter, their possessions beside them as they sleep. “Are you going off the ship?” someone asks. “ No, I have seen it.” The sharp white tooth of a raised sail is visible ahead of us as we approach the bridge. It looks like the little sailboat will go under alongside us. Good sailing weather, 15 knots from the east. There is plenty of room under the bridge and many more sailboats on the other side. Our Captain announces “the famous Alcatraz”, to the starboard. It is the weekend, people are at play, many sailboats and windsurfers out, dodging the ferries, fishing boats and cruise ships. This is a huge harbor, a massive city, not as self conscious and on display as San Diego. This city has complexity, racial mixing, potential for change, more like NYC and other World cities.

We have left San Francisco and continue up the west coast. The sea is calm and the captain is proceeding very slowly as we pass through a huge pod of whales, maybe 30 of them. This has been going on for about two hours, the sightings of clusters and singletons over several miles. Sometimes the dark back and neat dorsal triangle appear, then maybe a tail strokes the sky gently, gracefully, or a hint of dark just below the surface precedes spouting and more spectacularly, rolling, which exposes the white sidewall of an orca. One passenger screams with delight. This is the first whale she has ever seen. Later I read that orca are considered part of the dolphin family and that all dolphins are whales but not all whales are dolphins.

Now that we have been visiting the United States I think about what I want to say about it. I am a US citizen. As I think, rain droplets slide down the window here in the observatory, like tears. I have been thinking about skipping the log about the US because I know the US too well, I don't think I can have perspective. Like a fantastical creature that is beautiful, friendly and naive, at the same time ruthless, my country flings jewels and knives with frightening, seductive abandon. Causing fleeting joy and deep, bleeding, persistent wounds. The result of more than 200 years toward the economic evolution of elite benefits in our country. The uneasy truce struck between the immigrant landowners and the immigrants without land, the Bill of Rights, (cleverly written to be vague, there were lawyers back then too), has been torn and pummeled to the point where it has become a quaint anecdote of history. How could they be so naive? Did they really think power and privilege would give or give up? The King didn't hand over thousands of acres of the “New World” to his friends for nothing. He just couldn't imagine they would want more, want it all. He thought he had bought them, bought their loyalty. Well, we know what happened to the English Empire. Now they are confined to their original Island, proud, overconfident, "brilliant", nervous and dangerous, their government making bad decisions, their population recovering between them. Meanwhile we the people cry, rage, cope, exalt, create and die. The results of that rhythm are unpredictable, as King George found out. Like the rhythm of the leviathan rising to the surface breaching then falling back.

Have we reached the end of this pattern?

I want to see humanity do what evolution has intended for it to do. Reach for our potential. Use our huge brain capacity to design abundance, solve scarcity, solve starvation, homelessness, disease, ignorance.

Or at least, try.

A sailboat is under a bridge over a body of water.

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Sea days

February 11, 2026

We have several sea days before we arrive again in Cairns, Australia. This means we will not see land for a while. The rhythm of sea days is very different from shore days. There are a variety of activities you can participate in. Almost anything you can imagine is being invented as a result of the variety of people onboard, some of whom want to duplicate the entertainments they enjoyed where they used to live. This is a residential cruise ship so a lot of the passengers are onboard long-term, meaning many months or years or the rest of their lives. The longest stay, if you “buy” your cabin, is 15 years. When Jeff and I bought our cabin that was all that was offered. Now you can buy a cabin for 5 years. Each circumnavigation takes about three and one half years. We are going to try to stay onboard for at least one circumnavigation. Before the sea days began, we visited two of the islands of Tonga. At the first stop, people scuba dived over a reef right next to our ship

French Polynesia, the islands

January 27, 2026

The float of cloud drifts and encircles a mountain leaving just the very top, a pointed witches cap poking through. These islands have the most magnificent mountains. They brood around the harbors, snagging the clouds that pass. No doubt they have inspired fantastic stories. The cloud shadows create chameleon-like changes on mountain surfaces, making them even more expressive than oceans that amuse themselves by hiding what they contain; mountains are hysterical by contrast. Always looking for attention. “Look. Look again!, what about this?” They may hold a pose for a while seeming docile, then you look up and they have disappeared. White mist covers just a grey suggestion, then suddenly black silhouettes like broken giant teeth rise defiantly. So much animation, millions of years after volcanic upheavals shook these mountains from the sea depths.

Notes from Fiji hospital, Oceana Hospital system and Denareau private hospital

January 13, 2026

Medical emergencies all have a similar feeling. Intensity, urgency, a changed perception of time; only events and human encounters progress, time seems warped, unimportant. After several sleepless nights because Jeff was having difficulty peeing and he was beginning to have pain, he went to the onboard clinic to get catheterized. There were three attempts with successively larger catheters. This was painful and distressing for him, though he kept joking about it, “this is not good sex!” The attempts were unsuccessful. He was given pain killers and an ambulance met us at the dock for a 10 minute ambulance ride to the hospital. Jeff is an 80 year old man with an enlarged prostate so he normally has trouble peeing. But this time it stopped altogether and there was blood. We are waiting at the hospital for the urologist. Nurses and a general practitioner have spoken to us in English. Very kind, polite, casual and patient. The urologist arrives and talks with Jeff. He is going to get the operating room ready and put Jeff out. Then he can do the operation. We wait in our curtained off cubicle Jeff is lying on a bed. A woman who came with her husband, who has high blood pressure, is behind the curtain to the left of us. He had collapsed. She is reciting the Lord's Prayer and Hail Marys over and over in an emotional whisper. She is crying. A young man is in the cubicle to our right. He seems to have broken his arm. It is all wrapped up in white gauze. Earlier a man had been stung by something and ointment was applied. A pregnant woman has come in. This is a modest hospital, very basic, two floors. They have what they need. A few flies buzz lazily around, but most are killed by the electric device on the wall. A very slight smell of urine is in the air. We arrived here about 8:30. It is now 2:00. Jeff has had an ultrasound, blood pressure checks and an EKG. Now he is in a wheelchair waiting for the nurse to take him to an operating room. The waiting room has about 10 people waiting. About 50 chairs in all. Not terribly busy for a Saturday. Light and darker coffee colored skin, attractive, rounded features and large expressive eyes set apart the native population. They are only a little curious about us. There is no rushing here.

Chapter Eight – US (6/25)

Sea days

French Polynesia, the islands

Notes from Fiji hospital, Oceana Hospital system and Denareau private hospital

Ch 17, South Pacific Countries, islands

Palau

Indonesia

Yap Stone Money, CH 15

Philippines, reflections

Chapter Eighteen - Philippines

Chapter Seventeen - Taiwan