The Bitter and the Sweet (Cruise Report – Vancouver/Alaska)
Part I
Well.
I’m sitting in an internet cafe in Vancouver as the male demographic of 18-25 sit around me playing World of Warcraft. Seems fittingly surreal for someone who’s running on 16 hours of sleep total over the last four nights.
The past week has been…unusual to say the least. Which is also saying a lot, because the status quo of my life can easily be described as generally unusual and off the beaten path. I’m afraid if I don’t document all this right now, it’ll start seeping through the cracks of my mind, until the lines between illusion and reality blur and I can no longer trust in anything I believe anymore. So I have to stream this right now.
Fremont – The Calm Before the Storm
I flew into Fremont last week, wanting to spend a few days before the cruise in my hometown to spend time with my dad and Michael who wouldn’t be joining us on the cruise. They didn’t want to go because cruising is too–their word–“stressful.” Sitting on a boat, eating good food, doing nothing…stressful.
???
But surely not as stressful as, say, disarming land mines in Iraq, right? Slightly less?
I saw that my parents were getting along and Michael is content doing his thing. This family has come such a long way. Rie drove over on Thursday and brought Seigo, her 5-month old son. I love that kid. He was born looking like he’s trying to figure out world peace. Or pass a big fart. It was awesome because this was the first time my parents were meeting him and he’s like a little person now with such a fun laugh. He and I had a great time airplaning while we all watched The International with Clive Owen, which was incredibly boring. It was so good to see them.
This was also the first time playing basketball in the nice gym in Fremont since training with a pro coach, so I wanted to see if there was a noticeable difference in my performance. It was actually ridiculous. I played 3 on 3 with some guys who were pretty good, yet scored 7 straight baskets in the first game, our team winning 11 to 3. I’ve never dominated so confidently before. There was one play where I got the ball on the wing, crossed over and drove it right into my defender and went up. He was a big guy and crashed into me in mid-air, but I managed to stay upright and make the basket. She makes them even with contact, I heard him mutter, and to be honest, I was really surprised myself. This level of play is a bit suspicious, like I’m getting an assist from a higher power. But I’m not complaining, just enjoying the glory before the shoulder surgery sets me back. The universe is being very kind right now.
Vancouver (or, Remember That Time We Were Held Hostage by a Cult?)
The cruise crew (me, mom, grandmother, Aunt Jodie, Uncle Edward, cousins Edison and Jonathan and a family friend) flew into Vancouver on Friday where we stayed at my other uncle’s condo in a high-rise overlooking the marina. We got in late afternoon and had plans to eat dinner with some friend of the uncle who owns the condo. We met the friend at a Chinese vegetarian restaurant, and it turned out that we would be dining with a massive group of 17 because it was the guy’s birthday. They were friendly, the food was interesting, and afterwards, they mentioned that because it was his birthday, they were planting a tree at their place and invited us to see their house which they had recently customly built from the ground up.
On the drive over, the guy’s wife had mentioned that they were Buddhists of an order that believes that all religions serve the same purpose by leading a person towards their higher self, so it’s like college–it doesn’t matter where you go to school as long as you get a degree. She said some other things about their beliefs, but my Chinese isn’t so good to understand all of it. To be honest, it all sounded pretty fundamental and obvious but as long as it benefited their lives, then more power to them.
The house was in a very nice area of Vancouver, on a hill with an amazing view of the mountains surrounding the city lights below. Their house was a stunning 2-story number with a large fountain out front and a well-planned meditational garden in the back. This is a nice house, I said to my mom. Then they invited us inside.
The first clue that something was wrong should have been the fact that they were the only gated house on the street with security cameras everywhere. My mom actually asked them about it, if it was for security, and the husband mumbled something about design but didn’t actually answer the question.
The next clue should have been the fact that the majority of the first floor of the house had been converted into a shrine. Wow, I thought. These people are really dedicated to their religion. Then I noticed there was a computer check-in station. I wondered if they ran a home-worship temple, the way some people have home offices. Hey, I don’t judge so I didn’t think much of it. The interior of the house was gorgeous.
They invited us to sit upstairs and try out their couches (very comfortable). As we were hanging out, this tiny Chinese woman wearing gray showed up and she was introduced as a “family friend.” She started to talk about their beliefs, and we all listened politely, but then a couple minutes turned into half an hour, then an hour and it was getting a little weird. I noticed my grandmother had fallen asleep and I thought, Good plan! and pretended to be asleep. She was talking about the concept of how we are a part of everything, earth and sky, and when we die, we lose everything except our connection to our higher selves. But for us to become a part of the earth and sky and for the earth and sky to acknowledge us, we need to make a connection through rituals. I was getting a bad feeling. This no longer felt conversational, but like a sales pitch. I really wanted to leave, but it wasn’t up to me. The next thing I know, they ask my aunt to write down all of our names on this piece of parchment paper. I’m still pretending to be asleep, but my anxiety is growing because, while I know cameras don’t steal my soul and leaving hairs on a brush doesn’t necessarily leave me open to voodoo attacks, I didn’t feel comfortable having my name written on a mysterious piece of paper. The woman asked my aunt how much she would contribute and my aunt agreed to contribute $50 a person. Now I was definitely uncomfortable. And what happened to planting a tree? That’s what they said we were coming over to see! Who the hell were these people and what were they going to do with our names? So they ask us to join them downstairs and I jump up and go to my mom who doesn’t seem particular alarmed.
What’s going on?, I ask her. Never before have I wished my Chinese was better so I could understand what the woman had been talking about and what was about to happen.
Oh, they’re just going to pray for our souls, she said. We’re just being polite.
Polite? I know it’s custom to come over to someone’s house and sit for a while over tea if they buy you dinner, but $400 and the promise of some religious ritual seemed…not your usual Friday night.
So everyone’s getting up and I peek over the railing to where the shrine is and I see that more people have arrived and they’re all wearing long gray gowns including the couple who had bought us dinner and their son. An alarm went off in my head so I grabbed my uncle and nearly threw him at the rail.
I have 3 letters for you, I said, pointing over the rail. “W.T.F.”
He looks and just says, “Oh.”
Okay.
My uncle’s a really chill guy. Our city could be in the midst of being bombed by UFO’s and he would just say, “This is not good.”But I was hoping for a little more than just, “Oh,” especial
ly considering he had the keys to the car and would be a key figure in any attempt to get out of this house.
So we go downstairs and the little worker bees in gray are setting up the shrine by putting mats down and preparing a tray with tea. I noticed the box of candy we’d brought the wife was also now set up as an offering for the giant gold Buddha in the middle of the shrine. I’m freaking out inside. I don’t want any of these people anywhere near my soul. And I want my name back.
So I grab my mom and tell her I’m not participating. She says it’s no big deal and to just be polite and I kind of want to shake the shit out of her because she doesn’t seem to be taking this seriously and I don’t know why. But my mom is someone who never wants to offend people so she probably just figured it would be better to get it over with than to disrespect her older brother’s friend. She does tell me that if I’m really this uncomfortable, I can go wait in the car. My uncle says he’ll go with me, but the little gray people are milling around the front door, so we try to sneak out the back. It’s locked. We don’t know if it’s wired to an alarm, so we sit down on some chairs in the kitchen and the two little boys come sit with us.
This is not okay, I say.
No this isn’t, he says.
This is really concerning, I say.
This is completely disrespectful, he says.
I’m so happy he’s having the same experience of this as me. I know because I was born in the US, there are a lot of traditional customs that I don’t understand, but if my uncle Edward who’s from China feels like there’s something wrong, then this definitely isn’t normal.
As we sit in the kitchen, we hear chanting and smell incense. Next, I hear the woman reading off our names. When I hear my name, chills run down my spine. I sneak up to the entrance and I see the woman who owns the house standing on the platform in front of the Buddha calling out directions with the paper in her hand as all the others kneel in a formation in the middle of the room, chanting. The rest of my family stands huddled in the back of the room, poker-faced. The woman sees me and waves me in. I shake my head and leave, though I think I shot her an inadvertent dirty look.
I go back and sit with Edward. We listen to the chanting and the boys start fighting and laughing, but we shush them. This is serious.
The woman in gray and the woman who owns the house come into the kitchen and each grab me by the arm. Come, they say. We’re going to indoctrinate you so you can be accepted.
I politely remove their hands.
My Chinese isn’t so good, I tell them politely with a smile (even though it is…I just don’t have an extensive vocabulary that extends into religious terms), but I feel like if I’m going to participate in a ceremony, I would want to know what it’s about before I agree to it.
Don’t worry, the woman who owns the house says, I’ll have my son explain everything to you in English when we’re done.
She grabs my arm again. I gently but firmly remove her hand again.
Why is it so important for me to participate?, I ask her. I have my own spiritual beliefs and they’re very important to me. Why is it so imperative for me to participate in this ceremony if like you said, all religions are equally important as long as they get the soul to the same place of understanding, so if I decide I want to go into the desert and communicate with god on my own and that’s enough for me, then isn’t that just as acceptable?
(I’m actually surprised and impressed at my level of articulation in Chinese at this point. Thank God the words are not failing me.)
The woman in gray becomes emphatic, saying that they’ve already called my name and started the ritual, that they can’t stop now. She says if I go through it, I will be officially recognized and that it’s okay to have your own spiritual beliefs, but doing this is like a back-up to make sure my soul will definitely be saved.
But what if I truly don’t feel like a back-up?, I ask. Even Jesus said the conversation between a person and God is a private conversation. What if I want to have a private conversation with God that has nothing to do with you? I think you should respect my personal right and boundaries.
They’re looking at me like I’m some dirty heathen trying to justify my depraved path, some ignorant soul drifting out to sea, and I’m getting angry because I’m someone who has pretty defined spiritual beliefs and a strong sense of my inner self that I’ve worked very hard to achieve. And even more so, my spiritual beliefs dictate that religion is a means to reach spirituality but not a necessity, that everyone’s spiritual self-discovery is different and as long as they get there to feel positively about themselves and their place in the world, it doesn’t matter. I believe that you can never force anyone to take your views because it defeats the purpose…you can guide and discuss, but it’s hypocritical and defeats the purpose to force any ideology onto a person. These people were so ignorant and hypocritical of everything they had just preached earlier that it was making me very angry. They were like that stringy-haired girl in my dream a few days before, pushing at me, when I wanted to be left alone to stand my own ground. I even remember telling myself not to fold my arms over my chest because it would be a defensive position, signifying weakness and fear. I stood strong, chest open, looking them in the eye, refusing to budge, just repeating – I’m not participating and you need to respect my decision.
They finally gave up. I looked at my uncle. Let’s go to the car, I said.
We make a break for the front door, and my grandmother has decided she’s had enough as well, saying she wants to go home. I go to get my bag and the kids’ shoes when there’s a sudden commotion outside. I run outside and my grandmother, who has a wicked short temper, is trying to get into the car but being stopped by the woman in gray. My grandmother’s yelling that we’ve been here for 2 hours and it’s late and wants to go home.
I ask what’s going on, also noting that while the gate around the driveway is open, there’s a white sedan blocking the opening so there’s actually no way out for the car. This is concerning. The woman in gray says that because I delayed the ceremony by not joining and making my grandmother wait so long, now my grandmother was tired. But she promised to get everything done quickly. She keeps trying to get a hold of my grandmother who’s flinging her hand off and yelling that she wants to go home right now and the woman in gray is yelling at me that I made my grandmother wait too long. It’s almost like this woman was determined to get punched.
I get between them and tell my grandmother to get in the car and tell the woman that my grandmother doesn’t want to do the ritual not because she’s tired but because spirituality is a personal matter and right now they are forcing something on her that she doesn’t agree with. My grandmother says, she’s right! That’s exactly it! And finally calms down.
The woman doesn’t seem to hear and repeats again that it’s my fault because I made my grandmother wait, and I was really achieving a new level of restraint in the fact that I’ve still been polite this whole time and I have suppressed the rage I am feeling towards this incredibly ignorant, stupid woman. The rest of the cult comes out, following the rest of my family and my mom’s apologizing to the guy’s wife that my grandmother’s back hurts and is just tired because it’s been a long day, which of course starts my grandmother screaming again from inside the car, Get me out of here! Someone start this car and get me out of here! I’m trying to calm her down by saying I know why she’s upset and I feel exactly the same, and yelling at the people to please move the car that’s blocking the driveway, when my mom pushes me aside and tells me to stop making things w
orse. Now I don’t know who I’m pissed at more–my mom or these idiots. The guy who owns the house is apologizing profusely and saying that this whole thing is just a misunderstanding, while my grandmother’s screaming, move your car! I want to go home NOW!
We manage to get everyone in the car as someone backs the white car out so we can back out. As we pull away, the cult people are apologizing through the window for the way things turn out and we’re like, it’s fine, it’s great, thanks for dinner, and I even add happy birthday to the guy who owns the house as I’m texting brian because this is just too unbelievable for me not to.
The whole car is silent until we get to the end of the street…make a stop at the stop sign…turn right.
Then I just can’t hold it in anymore.
WHAT THE FUCK??? WHAT THE FUCK??? NO SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK????
The kids start laughing uncontrollably and then everyone’s laughing.
My mom and aunt say that they had no idea the situation would turn into a whole ritual and I ask how the hell they know these people. He’s someone your uncle plays golf with, my mom says.
Brian calls and asks what the hell is going on and I recap it for him. His only comment:
“Was everybody kung fu fighting?”
Saturday
I talked with my friend Yuki, whom I’d worked with at Boom!Chicago in Amsterdam and is living out here. Even though we weren’t able to hook up, he recommended a Caribbean music festival on Saturday. My mom and I took a nice ferry ride to north Vancouver, ate some jerk chicken and listened to music while people-watching. A guy selling hats told us we were pretty. I told him, “It’s because we’re lesbians.”
My mom’s a very good sport.
The weather was incredible – blue skies and sunny, though it started to drizzle a bit despite the sun so we headed back.
We took a walk along the waterfront. Watched the cruise ships take off.
They left exactly at 5, my mom said.
They’re very efficient, I said.
Kids…remember this exchange. It’s important to the story later.
The night featured the most incredible thunderstorm that seemed to surround the horizon with lightning and electrified the sky in the most breathtaking combinations of colors and emotions. I’d never felt so magnetic and alive. As we headed back, I wanted to see what Vancouver’s nightlife was like but no one wanted to come with me, so I went by myself. Most places seemed to be clubs and I really just wanted some place low key to people watch, so I picked this Irish pub. There was a $14 cover which is a bit ridiculous, so I asked the woman to be honest about what kind of crowd it was. She told me that it was a mix…18 year olds to 40 year olds. Then I remembered the drinking age in Canada is 18. She let me check it out first and the funny thing was, it wasn’t a range of 18 to 40. It was really young kids, and the 40 year old men standing around in the corners watching them. Very little in-between. Bizarre. So I left. I decided to just walk home and see Vancouver on foot, my favorite way to explore a city anyway. I thought I knew where I was going (I thought it was a 1 mile straight shot down the main street to the street our place was on), but somehow I got really lost. I did find some interesting architecture, and followed this group of 3 kids, 2 of them holding up this girl who looked like Christina Ricci wasted out of her mind. She kept mumbling about how she didn’t know how she got this drunk (I don’t know. From…drinking…maybe?). It was funny, but her friend was so sweet, kept telling her she was okay and that they would get her home while basically carrying her. I wanted to tell the girl she was a really good friend, but sometimes I’m shy about initiating conversations, so I didn’t, but when the street we were walking on ended in a freeway on ramp, I sucked it up and asked them for directions. Turns out I’d walked in the exact opposite direction and was really far from where I was trying to go. The nice girl gave me directions to the train station while holding her drunk friend by the back of the dress as she stumbled around like a dog on a leash.
By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you you’re a really great friend, I said to her. She’s very lucky to have you in her life.
Her smile momentarily lit the night.
We parted at the stop light and I headed down the street where I’d been directed, until at the next corner, I found myself standing by a tank. Yes, not “bank.” Tank. Just sitting on the sidewalk. Seriously. It’s 2am, I’m lost as fuck, the streets are nearly completely devoid of traffic or people, and I’m standing by a giant tank under the pale yellow streetlight, the lingering smells of a dramatic thunderstorm still in the air. Damn right I wanted to have a photo session. But the only person I could see was a homeless guy staggering up the street, and I definitely wasn’t brave enough ask him to take my picture while I scrambled up a tank, so I called my uncle who was waiting up to let me into the condo to tell him I was lost.
He offered to pick me up but didn’t know the cross streets, or where in the city to find a tank sitting on a sidewalk (to be honest, it didn’t sound like he really believed me).
Luckily at that moment, a taxi drove by and I flagged it down. Didn’t get any photos with the tank. In fact, couldn’t find it again when we were driving around in the car the next day. Hmmm…
Sunday.
My uncle wanted to drive to Richmond to go try this restaurant. He claimed Richmond was only 20 minutes away and we needed to board the boat between 3 and 5 so we could make it back in time. I remember having a really bad feeling about going to Richmond, but I held my tongue because when it comes to family, I don’t have seniority to question decisions.
So we go out there and my mom wants to get a massage instead of eating because her back hurts so we drop her off and go to a dim sum place. I noticed that it’s 2pm and I say that we should hurry, because we still have to go back to the condo and load the bags into the car, drop the car off at the car rental place and take the shuttle to the port.
On the way back, we hit traffic. It’s about 3:45 and we’re running a bit short on time. I’m very worried and I suggest a plan that would optimize our efficiency:
Since the car was in Edward’s name, he should drop us off at the condo and go straight to the car rental place, taking the 3 most inefficient people — my grandmother and the two little boys. Meanwhile, the remaining 4 of us would ask the deskman to call a taxi as soon as we walked into the building, giving us 5-10 minutes to get all the luggage downstairs. Then at least one of the two groups could get to the port asap and let the people know in case the other group was running late. I was pretty happy with the plan, especially considering I’m someone who is obsessive about multi-tasking and maximizing time efficiency, because I have a pathological anxiety over boredom or wasting time. Even my mom’s friend said that it was a really great plan. But then my mom (why does she always do this to me), says that we can’t split the kids up from their mom, which made no sense because they would be with their dad. I say that’s fine. She can go with Edward to the car rental, and the remaining 3 of us would take care of the luggage. But then my aunt says she needs to be there to pack up the luggage and make sure they get everything. I’m kind of irritated now and say, do you guys realize you’re taking my efficient plan and making it less efficient?
My mom quips, why do you always think you’re right?
And then I turned green, ripped through my shirt.
Seriously, I did get really mad because she never listens before she disagrees. So often, she disagrees without knowing what she’s even disagreeing with.
So they decide to have every
one go upstairs and take care of their own luggage, but the compromise was that we would still call a taxi as soon as we got there, and one group would go to the car rental and another would take a taxi.
The time was about 4pm.
The first group by taxi got there about 4:18. There was a woman who greeted us by saying, You must not want to get on the ship.
She was pretty much a bitch. We told her we thought we had until 5 and she said that’s when the boat leaves and the check-in closed at 4. She was just a thoroughly unhappy person, so as we got all the bags out of the car, she kept saying, you’re not getting on the boat while the other guys kept saying, don’t worry you’ll make it. I really wanted to turn around and ask her, are you really this miserable of a person? But I showed restraint because seriously, what assholes we are, out of over a thousand people, to be the very last ones on the boat.
Another woman with the port comes out and replaces the bitch lady, and she’s amazing. God bless her. We tell her there’s another group coming but they’re returning the car. I tell my mom to call Edward and tell him to turn around and just come straight to the port. It’s better to swallow an extra week of car rental fees than to miss the boat. The woman gets on her walkie talkie, and the end of the story is, we all got on. Though we’re still assholes.
The good news though, was that we missed the evacuation drill, which I remember thoroughly hating the last time I went on a cruise. Everyone was filing back in their life jackets as we were boarding. I asked why we thought boarding was between 3-5 and they said it was in the information packet the agency had given them and I asked to see it. It was in small print but it did say to board no later than 60 minutes prior to departure which was 5pm. Then I remembered just the day before, my mom had commented about how the cruise ships leave at exactly 5pm, and wondered why neither of us put 2 and 2 together. Maybe because it just makes a better story.
But we made it, set sail, and that’s all that matters.