Chapter 6 - "My Boat, My Rules"

Greetings gentle readers, family, and friends,

The lesson of the week is that contempt breeds familiarity. Did I tell you before that Clete is kind of based on one of my male relatives? He's smart, he works hard, and good stuff just kind of always happens to come his way. How I hate that kind of guy! And they kicker is that lucky people don't think they're lucky. They attribute all to their hard work. Ask them sometime. But I digress.

This is off topic, but I just discovered a Japanese drama series called The Queen's Classroom; it's the standard storyline of the hard-ass teacher who whips slackers into shape. I think I know exactly where it's going, but it's great. I found it because I was starting to watch the Korean version which stars my favorite South Korean actress, Ko Hyun Jung. Sorry Ms. Ko, the Japanese version is better, but I'd MUCH rather watch you on the screen. Oh hey, let's bring it back around to the book . . . I would cast Ko as my film-version of Silver Bird in heartbeat--and, you haven't met her yet, but she'd make a pretty good "Feng."

Just a warning, if you haven't yet dabbled in watching East Asian TV dramas and you decide to dive in, your American media sensibilities will feel like the actors are all overplaying. Dial back your expectations and enjoy. They're a lot of fun and you feel like the actors are having a lot of fun too.

Love and Happy Valentines Day,
Pops

p.s. Hang up a lantern on the night of the full moon, 2/14, Valentines Day, maybe the Lantern Fairy will pay you a visit and give you strength and resolve to last the whole year!

Personal Journal Entry:

U.S. Time:         Sunday, July 8, 2012
Island Time:      Dragon, Month 5, Day 20, Xingqi 7
Project Date:     Week 3, Day 1

The older I get, the more I feel like religious experience is self-reflection in the echo chamber of one’s own head. It’s basic researcher bias—you order whatever data you get into the convenient containers you’ve created over the years. That’s why if you’re a scientist, you’ve got to make your breakthroughs before you get tenure. You’ll never have as fresh eyes again. 

There it is, my youthful atheism trying to assert itself once again. But that faithless Clete will never reign ascendant again. Too many voices, old ancient voices, make themselves heard, and painful life experience makes them too relevant to set aside.

Nevertheless, I keep at it, religious practice that is, and after doing my Sunday morning devotional readings and saying my prayers, I reported to the boathouse and Lee gave me her briefing on the use of her 18-footer with outboard. I was stay to inside the harbor and not go on the open sea. There were no commercial vessels scheduled to be about today, but that could change and I was to stay clear of them if they did arrive. There were a few other things, but I was told that I must have on a life jacket at all times.

After I put myself into a likely spot, far from shore, and way out of earshot, I set up three lines and promptly removed the life jacket. I find them bothersome and hotter than hell, and even more so in the land as hot as hell. The advantage you gain in sitting in a boat in nabbing fish than you do off a pier or shore is counterbalanced by the fact you are sitting in direct sun with no possibility of shade other than whatever hat you happen to have on. I was dying out there, but damn it, I was determined to have fun.

True to Lee’s word about the abundance of fish, I landed a white belly right off, followed by something resembling an moderately sized albacore along with a couple of small wahoo. The harbor seemed to attract pelagic, ocean-going  fish as well as the coast-hugging types. I needed something larger to hit quota. My goal was to land double quota and maybe she’d lighten up on me next week, since they would smoke and brine to preserve what could not be eaten immediately. With a diesel generator that goes off at night, there is no refrigeration for food storage. Why was there not even a small windmill that could run current enough for one freezer? Did their protectorate hate them that much? 

I wonder if they might have enough volcanic activity in a workable depth that they might be a good candidate for a geothermal energy plant, but then I remember Earth Dragon was thinking they wouldn’t even be here another 10 years. I am already having my doubts about that prognosis however. Putting in a geothermal power plant for a handful of people does seem like overkill.

The sun was beating down and I was feeling quite hot and deciding to doze and nap, when I hear this rhythmic splashing nearby. It was not the slapping of water against the hull—it was Lee. She had swum out to meet me.

                  “Clete, pull me in,” she said. I did as ordered. She squeezed water out of her hair.  She said, “Jacket. On. Now.”

                  “You swum all the way out here just to tell me that? I’m impressed, but, no, I don’t think so.”

                  “No jacket, no boat.”

                  “Oh, Lee, come on. I swim as well as you. It’s such a bother! That goddamn jacket is too fuckin’ hot. I’m cooking out here!”

                  “My boat, my rules.”

She continued to shake her head at me, folding her arms against her chest. She certainly had a fine, slim, silhouette. Long graceful neck. She has quite an elegant appearance I had not really noticed before. She typically wears her hair tightly controlled in a braid piled up on top of her head—it must be extremely long. I’ve seen it a couple times down and it is a wild, wiry, curly bulk, when let loose, I think down to her feet. But right now, it was flat and glossy. She was absolutely shining.  However, she was obviously upset at me. I decided to put on my fierce face. Didn’t work. Why can I not get my game face to work on this woman? She burst into laughter and I felt ridiculous.

                  “Is that the best you can do? Trying to look mean? You only look silly. You are a silly man.”

                  “Hey, I’ll have you know I’m a killer negotiator. I just haven’t figured out your buttons yet.”

                  “Killer. Pffft. Yeah.” She grabbed my hands. In contrast to hers, my hands were unscarred, pudgy, baby hands. “Probably never killed anything in your life.” She put them down in contempt. “But try not to kill yourself,” she said as she picked up the life jacket and threw it at me.

                  “I hate these things. They’re so restrictive. What are you doing?” I knew what she was doing. She was turning the reels.

                  “I am pulling in your lines. You are done. Your fishing license is suspended for the rest of the day.” She secured the lines and then started up the motor. “What are YOU doing?”she said to me.

                  “Proving something to YOU,” I said as I stood up. “It’s been lovely, this time together my dear. Really, but I must be going. See you back on shore.” I tumbled myself over the side and began swimming back to the beach. She cut the engine, pulled the oar attached to the side and patiently paddled alongside me. I was doing fine for a while, but then I just plain ran out of gas. I was apparently not as fit as I remembered myself to be. I rolled over onto my back to float.

                  “OK Mr. Olympic swimmer. Now what?”

                  “I’m just enjoying watching the clouds roll by. Don’t you worry about me. I’ll make it back.”

                  “No clouds! And you are not even halfway back. You actually went in the wrong direction. You are just shark food.”

                  “Man! Get off my case you hard-ass bitch.”

                  “Only to a man who is an asshole. In fact, now that I think about it, you give me so much shit it’s good to have you, as my second asshole.”

                  “I demand another Island liaison. Whatever happened to the pledge to provide great customer service?”

                  “Get in, you only proved that you not only are you an idiot, you are weak.” And she pulled me back in.  She started the engine back up and instead of taking me back to the dock, she headed out farther into the harbor.

                  “What’s up? You going to dump me out here? You witch! Gimme that jacket.”

                  “Shut up. Your license is reinstated. I am doing something for myself. I want to eat some grilled fish tonight and I am speeding things up so we can get out of here in an hour instead of arguing. You tire me out! You and your childish stunts.” She piloted us resolutely to a point near the harbor entrance. “This is the favored spot by the commercial fisherman. Drop your lines here. You gonna need a lot of length. The deeper the better.”

                  “What about the life jacket?”

                  “Change of rules just for you. You do not put on life jacket? Then I am your life jacket. If you fish without the jacket you must have me in the boat to protect you.”

                  “I don’t need protection.”

                  “Ahem. . . You swam and you failed.”

                  “Hey thanks for that. You really know how to let a guy down easy. Oh but that’s right. Only we Americans believe in self-esteem. Don’t you have better things to do than sit here with a failure?”

                  “Yes, I do. But your fishing seems to be much better than your swimming. You pulled out all of that in a few minutes? Maybe you are actually good at finding things. As your pilot I get first pick of the catch. You are only here for nine more Sundays. I can do this, and I get the satisfactory feeling of making you guilty too. How do you put it. I will be 'one up.'”

                  “Why do you always insist on making things hard for me? Just ASK me to bring back a fish for you.”

                  “You make things hard for yourself! Do not blame me. I would think you might appreciate someone trying to make you a better person. Being the teacher that you are.”

                  “I’m not here for self-improvement! A guy needs to have a little fun.”

                  “You know, I really do not understand this thing that you call ‘fun.’ This is some sort of sickness with you people.”

                  “You have to escape from the drudgery of work to refresh yourself.”

                  “So you come to the middle to nowhere to study our dirt and rocks on your holiday. Explain to me why this is ‘fun’ and not work. How is this refreshing? This is what sleep is for.”

                  “Well . . . um, . . .” She had a point. “I really have . . . no answer to that.”

                  “HA! That is a change.”

                  “Besides, I feel bad to be taking you from your Sunday work.”

                  “You feel bad for ME? What nonsense. Do not say such things that you don’t mean.” My phoney-baloney contrition ploy didn’t work. She continued. “I am billing you $88 an hour as a fishing guide when we settle your account, clock starting when I started to swim out. We are in the second hour now. And I am imposing a $88 fine for breaking my rules.”

                  “How about another hundred bucks for rescuing from the water? And another hundred an hour to be my personal lifeguard while we’re at it?”

                  “That's your negotiation? Sounds good to me.  Maybe I find it my fun to squeeze money out of an American?” This may have been the first time she smiled at me—and I have to admit, she looked pretty good with a happy face. “Put on the jacket now and I give you a discount.”

                  “Are you kiddin’? Don’t do me any favors. I’m in too deep now to save face. Put it all on the tab, Lady. So tell me, how much money do I have to spend on your softening up that hard ass of yours before you start turning into nice person?”

                  "A nice person? Let me tell you. I am wonderful. Before you showed up I was the most cheerful person on this Island. I think it would cost you everything you have, AND your manly pride to see how wonderful I am.”

                  “Pride, hunh? What the hell. . . ?” She was staring me down, waiting for my clever retort. I had nothing. “Meh, I’m done. Lucky for you I happen to like girls who can give a finishing stroke.”

                  “Heh, heh. I am a finisher. Unlike you, I am a real killer. They call me when they want someone to stick the pigs.”

                  “I believe it. They probably call you to castrate the cocks and the boars too. Damn ball-busting bitch!”

                  “Try not to give me ideas, Dr. Wong . . . on how to make you a better guest.” She flashed me a game, deadpan glance as her eyes tracked down to my crotch.

                  “Good God woman, what is with you? Keep your eyes to yourself.” I said as I relented and self-consciously crossed my legs.

                  “If you do not like my company, do this fast and catch some fish.”

I had her adjust our position a little, my fishing lines went down, and sure enough, her faith in the bay’s abundance and my abilities were not misplaced. We were off the water in an hour. I have fished with friends, but they don't like having me along. They've got all these species-specific techniques and gear they use. I just drop lines and pull up whatever jumps on. Pisses them off because they usually get nothing. Shuts 'em up a bit when I give 'em my catch.

I must say, ounce for ounce, tonight's supper was the most expensive fish dinner I’ve ever eaten in my life—there wasn’t even any wine—but it looks I’m going to have the most unpleasant of fishing buddies from here on. But she doesn't care about pissing contests where I score all the catch. That much is refreshing.