Oslo to go

I'm watching "The Seven Hour Train Journey to Oslo".  In minute three the train goes into a tunnel and doesn't come out again for four minutes.  Why don't you turn this off, butthead, the screen is black.  I wanna see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Minute 10 we're back in another tunnel and a Norwegian dude is giving information about doctors on board if you should need one, and what a beautiful country this is when we're not in another tunnel.


I got two weeks to go, teaching finished a long time ago, Songstad is 583m ahead.  Ramadan begins on the 29th so I had my last lunch at the university restaurant today, an excellent stir fry beef and vegetables.  I said goodbye to Patrick and Kebin, the Sri Lankans, and to the cute Pilipino Muslim who works there. 


I'm not looking forward to spending more time in my rat hole.  Office hours are unofficially 9-2 during this 'holiday' which means I have more time to read, that's good, but in a rat hole I have no pleasure staying in.  Sure, if I had decorated it with anything to make it a place I wanted to come back to that would help, but the truth is, even if my flat was really done up, I'd still be bored and I haven't been bored like this in a long time.  I was never bored in Salalah because there was an ocean.  Two weeks.  If only I knew how to speed the clock up.


Another three minute tunnel, yawn.  You hear the train on the tracks and sometimes you hear passengers but the tunnels.  The movie is almost four hours long.  They show this on flights.  Kjenes is approaching, 420m.


If I watched this on a flight I'd be asleep, and that's a good thing because I have a hard time sleeping on any moving vehicle. 


So, I'm coming back for another year and 70 vassal virgins won't keep me here any longer.  One more year to save up something to...to what I ask.  To live somewhere you'd like to live?  I'd like to visit New Zealand.  Oslo looks nice by train.  I only ask you, John you get your visa cancelled when you leave here for good.  Hetta is 1283m ahead. 


By train Norway looks the way I'd imagine it to look; a river, mountains, little villages, everything looks clean and conformed.  "We will arrive at Dalebrygga station in five or six minutes"  I think I will get off this train when we stop.  While it has been an adventure, I think I'll go home now.  I watched Captain Phillips this morning and enjoyed it.   What is hypnotizing is the expectation of what is to come even if it is predictable.  Ah, here is Dale, we're slowing down, a pretty snow dusted mountain is right ahead, ok, let's jump off! 

yoga mat

I rented a car from Avis in Al-Ain and on the way to Dubai the agent calls. "You reserved this car through the American website and as such you are not covered for any accidents."  I assured the man and my colleague who looked nervously at me that I would return the car without a scratch and sure enough, eight hours later I did, though I must confess there were others who wished to bring stress into my life but I would have none of it.  I felt quite pleased with my driving abilities.  I told my colleague I was from the motor city capital of the world, I was driving before there were seatbelts. 


The heat has become a little worse now that it doesn't cool off at night. 


I have two geckos in my kitchen.  I don't mind them, they're eating little bugs I don't see.  I don't think they'd win in a battle against large cockroaches, though I've only seen one of those this year.


People leaving the university for good sure aren't having an easy time of things.  Teachers have a clearance form and departments have to sign off indicating Tom or Laura don't owe anything or anyone.  The trouble comes, nay I say trouble, the stress comes on the last day, closing the bank account after receiving one's final salary, and not even then I understand does one know what time and what date they'll fly outta here.  That's hard to believe but with 17 days to go, it is typical in the gulf.  Trusting it'll all work out in the end is a source of tension.  You'd like to make plans confidently, to tell people at home you'll arrive at such and such time but you don't know until you have the ticket in hand.  In my experience it does work out in the end and the best way to manage the ambiguity is not expect.  Nevertheless I don't look forward to this next year.  One more year, I leaned over to my colleague in the office who is packing it up to be with his family in Tunisia after ten years in Oman, I must be a fool to stay, I must be miserably depressed to stay.  I must, I must, I must not have a very good plan otherwise you'd be outta here as well. 


I am relieved to have picked up some new books at the largest bookstore in Dubai and can hardly wait to read them.  Ramadan begins a week from tomorrow so I'll spend less time in the office and more time in my rat hole, so with good reading that'll be ok until I get the heck out of here.  I know I can make a better life here and it'll have to involve Al-Ain.  A membership to a hotel with a pool and an exercise room.  I did buy, finally, a yoga mat, not for doing yoga, but sit ups, any kind of exercise to shed a few el-bees before I'm outta here.  I might be starting a bit late to shed any significant weight but hey, the first step was buying the mat, right? 

on account of war

From the journal of my father, Charles Richard O'Neil


May 10, 1943  Newport News--We left the dock this morning at 0904…I haven’t been able to determine the number of ships with us as yet.

May 12--There are 18 ships in the convoy including supply tankers and troop ships.  There are 12 destroyers and one cruiser, The Savannah.

May 22—We sighted land just before noon to-day and this afternoon we passed into the Mediterranean Sea, we also passed the noted Rock of Gibralter.

May 23—We arrived in Oran  Algeria to-day about 1000.  Liberty was granted at 1700 to-night until 2200—

May 24—The town was a disappointment.  And about 1 hour before we came back Tuininga, Shall, and myself especially, got all bent out of shape, plastered, so to speak.—Enough said!

May 28—I’ve been ashore here twice now but I’ve seemed to lost all interest in it.  Swimming is what is enjoyed around.  The water is perfect. –Troops are coming on to-day and to-morrow for maneuvers, we are told.  There is also every indication that we will be here for a couple of months. 

June 2—The troops left us yesterday after four days maneuvers….We have had no mail as yet and we’ve been here about ten days already. Among the last soldiers aboard, there was a Jack Hirschman from Race street in Homewood.

June 4—The British aircraft carrier Formidable, along with two battleships, the King George V, and the Howe, came in to-day.  The place we are tied up at is called Mers el Kebid.

June 15—King George VI, Vice Admiral Hall, General De Gaulle, General Eisenhower reviewed the men of the British and American ships, here at Algiers to-day.—Wrote to Norma and Mother.  We came here to Algiers on the 13^th and I had liberty on the 14^th.  Tuininga and myself never did so much walking in our life.  It’s a large city, more modern than I expected.

June 29—We are anchored here in the harbor.  Troops came aboard to-day with the aid of boats.  There was an explosion this afternoon when a hand grenade set off some TNT.  Two men were killed and several injured.  One of our boats that was along side the dock was damaged and the Coxswain injured, a few soldiers in the boat were also injured.

July 3—This morning while the soldiers were cleaning their guns on deck, one soldier’s .45 went off accidently and wounded two sailors who were working nearby.  I happened to be there when it occurred and saw that the bullet passed through the one boy’s chest and through the other fellow’s leg.  To-night the boy (Giles) was in serious condition.  Gillispie’s wound on the leg will be allright.

July 7—We pulled out about 1100 yesterday with 13 ships, several destroyers and two cruisers.  The soldiers were told to-day that they were going to invade Sicily, the beach they are to land at is in Gela.  We have not as yet found out where we will be there.  A large convoy passed us to-night going in the direction of Bizerte.—Chuck Conners is here with me writing a letter to his wife, which I will mail for him as soon as we reach the states again.

July 9—At 2300 to-night we approached Gela.  The first sign of action was of (lanes?) dropped from planes, There airplanes began to bomb the enemy positions.  We could see their anti-aircraft fire.  About midnight we lowered our boats and around 0100 July 10^th the first troops  were landed.  Our warship are shelling the beach.  Shelling and the anti-aircraft fire continued the rest of the morning. (July 10) German planes bombed and straffed the beach four times to-day hitting at least 2 L.S.T’s.  Casualties have been coming back aboard all day, the doctors have been operating in three different places aboard ship.  One man from our ship has been killed so far.  (July 11) Continued gun fire all night, at 0710 this morning German planes bombed us, there were about 5 near misses and one ship the Baunet was hit and damaged slightly.  Planes bombed and straffed our positions on the beach again to-day.  At 1550 this afternoon I was on deck in time to watch two German planes strafe the beach, as they did this 25 to 30 engine bombers let loose on the ships, I hit the deck as bombs hit, only to be lifted off the deck by the explosion of bombs.  The liberty ship Roland was hit in her No.2 hold.  We picked up survivors.  They told us their cargo is TNT and gasoline besides vehicles.  The Roland burned and then exploded.  It continued to burn the rest of the night and part of the next day---Shrapnel hit our ship along the port side.  Several holes were made and one fellow hit.—To-night at 2200 we were attacked again by dive bombers.  This continued for about an hour.  One plane flew so low between the ships, that the ship along side of us hit us with their anti-aircraft guns.

(July 12) Our warships are continuing to throw shells at enemy held positions on the beach.  Enemy planes strafed the beach again.  We had another attack to-night about 1800, this time the ship was strafed but there were no casualties.  We got underway about 1900.  (July 13)  The official report sent in by the Dickman said there were (34) thirty four near bomb misses and that we downed at least one plane.

July 15—The author is 23 yrs of age to-day and he is lucky to be alive on his birthday.  We pulled into Algiers early this morning.  Liberty.

July 16—A supply ship (British) loaded with ammunition blew up setting afire one other ship. This evening the supply ship was towed away from the dock.  It is still burning furiously and ammunition is still exploding on it.

July 22—A smoker was held on the dock this evening.  There was entertainment of music and boxing and refreshments.  There were about 10 bouts between fighters from all the ships.  The main event was between Lou Jenkins, former middleweight champion and a Dickman mess attendant in a 3 rounder.  The colored boy beat Jenkins easily. 

July 23  We left Algiers to-day about 1600 for Oran.

July 26—To-day we received our first mail from home since May. –In all my letters I had good news. 

July 27—More mail to-day, never felt better.  This morning Dr. Palmer removed my ingrown nail so now I hope that is the end of it!

(no entries until Aug 22)

Sunday Aug 22—We are now docked in Oran and have been loading supplies and ammunition.  There has been lots of scuttlebutt, especially since Sicily has fallen, but the only thing to say is let’s wait and see!

Sunday Aug 29-0330  We have just returned from another maneuver and are anchored at Mers El Kebir.  Received a couple of letters to-day.

Sept 5—We are loaded with troops and equipment and are getting underway to-day.  It is also Mother’s birthday and Mother and Dad’s anniversary.  We are all convinced that this is to be another invasion probably somewheres in Italy.

Sept 7—We are to hit the beach somewheres south of Salerno in the Salerno Bay.

Sept 8—We got the news over the radio to-night that Italy has surrendered, but our own operations will go on as usual.  It is fairly bright to-night.

Sept 9—Operations went off as usual last night.  Much more resistance was met than some of the fellows expected.  German planes are giving the boys on the beach some trouble, although mines and 88’s are the most trouble so far.

Sept 10—Several casualties have come back so far.  Not much news from the beach.  One of our tank lighters was hit by an 88 on the beach, two of our crew were injured.

Sept 11—Finished unloading last night, standing by to get underway this evening about dusk, we had a bombing attack, it was repeated over again almost at once.  It all lasted about 20 minutes.  No ships have been reported  hit as yet.  It was really hot stuff for a while there.—Later on in the night German M.T. boats hit a destroyer of our port bow the M.T was also sunk.  No report from the can as yet. 

Sept 15  Arrived back in Oran.  unloaded casualties—

Sept 22—Received our first Sept mail—Mother tells me Bernard McNight was killed in Europe—Received a lovely picture of Norma the other day.  boy.

Sept 23—Moving into the dock to-day after being anchored our since we came back from Italy.

Oct 4—Anchored in the harbor at Bizerte—I’ve been in sick bay here since last Monday (smoke screen layed down come in engine room and started up my asthma) with Bronchial Asthma.  It isn’t very bad now, its just that the doctors don’t know what is causing it.  Father Murphy of the 36^th inf. is with the troops that are on board and he has given me Holy Communion the last couple of mornings.  Salerno fell two days ago. 

Oct 5—I was allowed to get up and around to-day. Feeling much better.—We left Bizerte this morning, and we will be at our destination sometime to-morrow. 

Oct 6—We have been coming up the coast of Italy since early this morning.  About 0900, the isle of Capri was sighted and Naples soon after.  We anchored in the harbor at Naples just before noon to-day.  Unloading began at noon and were unloaded at 1930 this evening.  Mt. Vesuvius can be seen to the right of the city, smoke and flames can be seen spouting from it. 

Oct 7—With the aid of spy glasses I have seen quite a bit of damage that was done around the docks and town.  The rest of the ships finished unloading this morning.  We were underway , leaving Naples to-day at 1345.—I am still on the binnacle list but expect to be off to-morrow.  I met Paul Mazzie, who is from E.E. Pgh.  He has been in sick bay with me for the last five days. 

Oct 16—Doctor Edwards gave me amenopolin (?) bad allergic reaction—had to give me shot in heart.  Doctor Edwards informed me to-day that I would be sent back to the hospital for further treatment.  Oct 18—Was rated MM2/c to-day and left the ship for transportation to U.S.

About Nov 5.43.Orders to move aboard the USS Stanton-proceeded to Casablanca-met Jim Robinson whose ship the USS Albermantle (?) was already in.  Left Casablanca Nov 8 arrived N.Y. Nov 21^st reported to Hosp on 22^nd and was discharged, reported to headquarters, was given 20 day leave.  Reported for duty at Pier 9, East River Dec 13, 1943.

Cornamona

Cornamona, Ireland December 1998

I sit next to an attractive woman enroute to London-Heathrow.  She is from Florence, Italy and had been visiting her uncle who lives in Rochester Hills.  After the usual customary remarks she tells me she wants to write a book about serial killers.  In her intermediate-proficient English she says we all have the capacity to kill many people. I think of those who have hurt me and those I have hurt.  What motivation propels us into actions of violence or revenge. I never saw it growing up, I'm thankful this wasn't a model to consider. I have threatened to hurt and recoiled in fear at the threats. Would I step over that unthinkable line brings chills and I ask the red headed flight attendant for another blanket.

Thomas Merton spends a lifetime cultivating the contemplative.  Going to Ireland is a hope someone will speak to me or show me the road I need to take for the next year, for the rest of my life. A road free from conflict and fear, pain and suffering.


On a cold Sunday morning, I wake up in the village of Cornamona and in Josie Coyne’s bed and breakfast.  Horizontal rain pounds all who stumble outside. Though the walk from Macs pub to the Josie’s is only a few meters, I am whipped and slammed and thoroughly soaked.  This morning I am given a full Irish breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, brown bread, toasted tomatoes, and two kinds of blood pudding, along with enough coffee to satisfy a dozen graduate students.I walk to the Catholic church with Pat, Josie’s son, Josie, and her sister Clara, who is visiting the homeland from New York, where she has lived for the past 30 years.  Mind you I wasn’t invited to go to mass, I was expected to go to mass.  Sacred Heart is an old parish in a new building, but none of that matters.  The mass is in the Irish, though the homily is in English.  There is no music, and an interim priest holds the fort while the regular pontiff is holed up in San Francisco on vacation.

Pat is an amiable fellow, a student at Trinity College in Dublin.  He is an aspiring musician and plays about 20 tracks of his work for me in his parent’s sitting room, the same room I dined in a few hours earlier after the service. Trying not to yawn too noticeably, I tried as best I could to listen to him tell me he didn’t care much to coming home from Dublin, said he, Cornamona is a trifling slow. Ay unless you’re looking for a slice of the trifling, mate.


Pat offers to take me to Aunt Margaret’s home.  We stop at the tiny grocery store, which is also the post office, to pick up turf briquettes for the fire.  We stop at Sadie Coyne’s house to pick up the key.  She lives to the west of Aunt Margaret and was asked to keep after the home.  Sadie tells me she has six children and two of them still live with her; Aengus, a precocious twelve year old and Maureen, pronounced Maurry, a 16 year old biting at the chomp of real live experiences.  Her boyfriend Declan was there that first day.


I entered the house and it's colder inside than outside.  Aunt Margaret was never one to complain and certainly didn’t seem bothered by perpetual drafts from door jams and the upstairs.  It’s humbles one to know there are people in industrialized nations who still live without modern conveniences. But she was present at the Miracle of the Sun in 1917 and chose at that moment to live a life of simplicity. Aunt Margaret cooked most of her meals over the fire.  In 1995 she was given a TV by Uncle Bill and Aunt Eileen.  A few years later a stove was brought in.  Why would anyone give a stove to a woman who was already in her 90’s?  A few years ago a space heater was installed by Sean Sullivan, Aunt Margaret’s eccentric electrician neighbor on the other side.  He lives with his 86 year old mother Sara, and tries to explain to me why he didn’t turn the heat on though a few too many Irish cocktails make his English and Irish indistinguishable.  I can see my breath in the house, Sean, for the love of Jesus Joseph and Mary, turn it on. Sadie gave me a little space heater which I embrace like a mother and her chicks.  Can I keep it under the blankets? 


The house is so cold I wear my polar fleece hat and winter coat to bed.  For two hours the next morning I am trying to start a turf and timber fire in the hearth.  Outside I look for anything dry to burn.  Next to the house is a shed where I find a pile of turf in the corner, in addition to cattle feed and farm tools. Margaret never married and her brother Tom lived in the house with her until he died in 1962.  In 1996 she moved into a nursing home in Loughrea, east of Galway city, roughly 45 minutes south of Cornamona.  Sadie says Aunt Margaret didn’t want alot of visitors so she settled for a home far enough away for other neighbors from pestering her.  Sara Sullivan just about came out of her skin when I brought this up.  It’s all just Sadie wanting to control Aunt Margaret and eventually get the house and the land, both of which the Sullivans and Sadie wish to have for their own.  They don’t talk to each other anymore, on account of Aunt Margaret and both try to persuade me the other is the devil incarnate.  The Sullivans and their immediate relatives, the Hopkins family all have it in for Sadie.  Sadie says she won’t go to mass anymore with the likes of such evil people.  Sadie’s a fighten woman, having gotten rid of an abusive and drunk husband and raising a half a dozen of her own, she’s spirited about life in Connemara and believes with the world against her it only gives her strength to prove them all wrong.  But one cannot help but wonder how Aunt Margaret’s move to Loughrea may have been handled if Aunt Eileen were there to deal with the matter herself.


By lunch I’m still fighting to make a fire and decide to take a hike and photo the surroundings.  Directly in front of the house stands a rocky mountain with grazing spray painted sheep dotting it for the eye’s length.  It takes me an hour to find a passage to begin climbing it for there is barbed wire to keep in the livestock and presumably me out.  I see Aengus and ask him for a route and he points to a break in the wired fence over this hill past the waterfall.  This entire landscape is saturated like an enormous sponge.  Every step is squish squish.  Sometimes I am up to my knees in spongy sod.  It takes an additional hour to climb to the top of the hill where Lough Corrib can be seen.  The second largest lake in Ireland isn’t that far from Aunt Margaret’s home, the terrain simply makes it impossible to walk there in any time shorter than driving to California from the Midwest. But by golly, it’s beautiful and brings out the manly.  Even in the dead of winter a heartiness encourages the fight must go on and by golly if there is a God and I don't climb Croagh Patrick and ask for forgiveness and a new wife have mercy on me and keep me warm. 


In a few hours I am to rise and make way for the workmen’s bus to Galway and then it’s a bus to Dublin before I return to the states.  The rain at one in the morning is evil, another horizontal slash and in my daze and anticipation sleep is bad when all of a sudden there is a pounding at the door and I jump out of bed ready to defend.  It’s Sean and I let him in reluctantly, he’s drunk and plenty angry.  ‘You were gonna leave without saying goodbye to me mother, were ya you dirty yank, all of youse work for the CIA I tell ya.’  I am in no mood to argue with a man with missing teeth and broken glasses so I agree to return to his home and say goodbye to Sara.  Standing at her bedside I lean over dripping on her and say my goodbyes.  It was the right thing to do.


Sara sang a beautiful song in the Irish at Macs Bar during the Christening party.  How wonderful would it be to grow up in a village where everyone turns out for little Caroline’s special day?  Rounds of Guinness, shots of Paddy’s, a spirit collective, grudges set aside, the treasured are lifted, the song draws us in and lets us remember the faith.

I’ll take this to heart and to hearth.

bumming beach

Why has it been so hard to decide what to do this summer?  Forty eight days and I'll be free from absurdities that contribute to my indigestion. In the meantime third world frugalities impede my decision making. How did I ever come to this?


I scour the globe for a beach to crash but I know I can't stay more than a week at a beach for it bores.  Ok, I swim in the morning, swim in the afternoon, read before during and after, at sunset I walk on the beach and at 7pm I meander the streets.  What was once exciting is boring, what was once an opportunity to enjoy has become mundane.  And yet, the beach still lures.  What would make a stay at the beach better? 


It's about the absence of desire.  It's gone.  Where did it go?  Noble truths explain disappointment  produced when desire is selfish, and meditating to empty myself of desire is good, to consider others before I consider myself is good, but holy shiva cow, when the desire to do anything for myself leaves me with nothing, I should be happy, right? It shouldn't leave me in a state of indecisiveness, right?  I am up, I am down.  It is better to be in the middle, the path is even and there is no desire nor misery.


The innocently blundering students took their third and final quiz yesterday and it was traumatic.  A listening part which demoralized, a writing part that made them all look as if they hadn't studied for 14 weeks.  It gives me heartburn to think about a sorrowful next week. 


So any plans for the weekend?  Are you serious?  I started "The Luminaries" and I hope it picks up.  The characters are vivid, that must be a good sign of writing, right?  when you can visualize and escape to another world.  I didn't know it was going to be a murder mystery. 


Last week I priced laptops and while all the pc's have this windows 8 operating system I'm told to avoid, I lean again to Mac.  A one year old 11-inch is a thousand clams, plus a hundred clammers for ms office.  The nice lady at the Hilton gave me a voucher for an upgrade when I told her I was considering a return at the end of the month and if I go back it'll be for Mac, another night in Al-Ain and maybe I'll have decided where I'm going to go on 10 July, a Thursday. 


So, where should I go if I have no desire?  What would be a more practical place to go, a place I don't desire, a place where there is contentment and peace, don't you desire that, you bozo?  I desire to be separated by an obnoxious conscience. 

looking for my island

I drew an island on the board
'egg'
Four students shouted in unison.
Yes, I am a fried egg
Looking for my island.


One day I scribbled an automobile
from a bird's eye view
four circles for tires
a stick figure, standing
under a panama hat
wearing hush puppies


Then there was a horse
an ugly mutation
of beaver mixing it up with an aardvark
bringing howls of protest and scorn
from thirteen year olds such is ridiculed.


Boats are easy with triangular masts
I can do a canoe
but put a human near it
it's time to wonder of such
comedy
confusion
consternation


To show where the th comes from I drew
a grotesque head from the side
with big teeth open wide
and a zucchini tongue
protruding out
the 'es' sound demonstrated
where the vegetable muscle
slithers down this abomination.


Everyone laughs, ok, let's practice.


(written in s. china 4.05)