We docked just after 8am alongisde another cruise ship. In fact, we docked with two other cruise ships at port. But the one we parked alongside was from Italy and considerably larger than our own ship. It didn’t dawn on me until later that, like I said, this ship is from Italy. Italy, on the other side of the Atlantic. our ship left from New Orleans and still took 3+ days to get to Cozumel, crossing the Gulf. How long were these people at sea to get to Cozumel? Crikey that’s some leisure living.
Anyhow at the end of the pier Nico and Ian were waiting for us. This was actually the point of the trip. To see these two, and deliver Martina to them for transport en route to Australia.
Wow. The last time I saw Ian was early October when he departed from Queens, NY en route to California on a motorcycle tour. From there he made his way to Holbox and met up with Nico whose been waiting tables out there. The idea was to get Martina to them and flying was simply not an option – too expensive, too much hassle, and clearly nowhere near as much fun as we’ve had here. Holbox is located around the other side of the peninsula, closer to where we were in Progreso yesterday, but nonetheless they met us here. We rented a jeep, and quickly got out of town and went scoping for some waves.
We found some good strong waves, salty water, and fresh beach. We were pretty much all alone on the east side of the island. Granted the water was so strong that we couldn’t go too far out but we spent some time here, had some beers at a local stand, a picnic on the beach with some food that we brought from the ship, and then headed back into town to find some snorkeling equipment and a proper meal.
While heading back we stopped to inspect these two geysers that were spraying water a good 20 feet into the air. Near them were these pools of water that vibrated and filled with air-pressurized water every time the waves hit the rocks, a little bit of water finding its way through the rocks and to the surface. Amazing.
When in Cozumel, eat here! It away from the market area a little, and it’s a total dive restaurant, but it’s so good. The lady-owner cooks everything behind the counter and it’s all really fresh, I mean she doesn’t cut a tomato until you order it. Fresh! And cheap. We all ate bountifully for around $20! I recommend the coconut water!
Before Angie and I headed back to our home for the next 36 hours and we split ways with Martina, there’s another part to this story that lacks a visual counterpart. We went snorkeling! We had around 2 hours before we had to retrieve Martina’s bags from the ship, so we grabbed some gear and hit some beach just south of the ships. We found some access to the water where only 4 other people were scuba-diving. The water is amazing, the fish are amazing, the reef is incredible. Groupers, yellowtails, I think I saw a barracuda even. And this pool of really tiny yellow fish that were totally friendly and playful. Some people back on the boat reported seeing seahorse, 3′ wide starfish, and such. I’m not a skillful swimmer at sea so I wasn’t able to head too far out; any opportunity I get to go back I’d love to take a s.c.u.b.a. class, they sounded affordable and you don’t have to head too far out (just 150 feet from shore) to see some incredible sights.
Home for the next 36 hours. By the time we were headed back to the ship, another ship had docked at one of the other piers, for a total of four ships at Cozumel! Cozumel’s wikipedia entry currently says that there was a third pier before a hurricane in 2005 took it out; should they rebuild it, there could potentially be six cruise ships docked at any point, accounting for anywhere upwards of 20,000 people!
As for the cruise experience, it was something else. There was Maja in the dining hall; Ananais in the piano bar; Rob the Pianoman; and countless countless others that really made the experience worthwhile. Martina, Angie and I clearly had the advantage too, as we were always one step ahead of the pack, and went about things the unorthodox path in order to maximize our experience. Twice even we were asked by others on the boat, “Are you artists?” because it was clear we went about things a different way. We were the first ones off and the last ones back on.
We found out the ship had a crew of roughly 900 people, many of whom go unseen for days on end, and workers are committed to six month contracts. They work long hours and really commit their lives to making sure ours is taken care of. It’s an odd position to be placed in, but it’s people – you talk to them, hear their stories, and they really make it worthwhile. They come from all over – Bosnia, India, Phillipines, Russia, USA – and they’re all crammed into their own deck and at sea for months. It’s an incredibly weird construct that humans have come up with, the cruise ship. With advances in technology you can stay connected to the world via the Internet (for a pretty penny) and there’s now satellite television round the clock; some people ride these things continually, live on them for months out of the year. It’s a world unto itself.
The final day at sea flew by, as we zipped back across the Gulf doing nearly 24-26 knots (en route to Mexico we spent most of our time around 16 knots by comparison). Angie and I were a little silent without Martina and mostly spent the day on the pool deck reading and recovering before we arrived back in New Orleans the next morning, bright and early debarkation began at 7am! Whoop whoop.
Re-entering the Missisissippi delta at night. Some land can be seen intersecting the moonlight, with lights on the horizon from small towns or oil refineries or the like. Welcome home.
(Next: back in New Orleans, some Prospect 1 art, back to it)
While you go on these cruise ships to relax, to really take advantage of the adventure you have to get up!
We docked at Progreso and disembarked at 7am! Angie, Martina and I were on the first shuttle bus to the end of the pier:
there’s a reason why you need a shuttle bus to drive the pier. It’s over 4 miles long! That building on the horizon is the halfway point, and is where the pier terminated until about 30 years ago when they built it further out to accomodate the then-bourgeoning cruise industry. 4 mile pier!
We hit the town of Progreso a little after 8am and were on a mission. There were two “tours” of Progreso available, and we decided on the tour of Dzibilchaltun for it’s Mayan ruins and sinkhole, the Xlacah Cenote (oooooh yeah!). However on the boat they wanted $56 per person and grouped people on an actual tour bus with guideperson and didn’t promise much else other than you would see the sights. We paraded through the market where the pier touched the land and found guides there offering the same tour as the ones sponsored on the boat for $29/person – an alternative tour though that we needed to round up 8 people to fit into a van and didn’t depart for over 2 hours! This didn’t quite meet our desires. We decided to hit the beach and travel further away from the market merchants and see what we could find in terms of transport and offers.
As we were the first ones to hit the beach, we quickly met this guy Jean from Florida who has satisfying become “stuck” in Puerto Progreso, Mexico. We told him what we were looking for, a cheap, authentic guide to the Mayan ruins at Dzibilchaltun. He works a bar down the beach and gets punters to stop by for drinks but knew the locals and looked into the situation for us. He got us in touch with a friend of his, Kiko, and bam we had ourselves a soon-to-be college graduate driving us around the highways of Progreso at 9am!
It doesn’t get any better than this. Kiko offered to turn the a/c on and we were all replied “No no we’re fine!” We were a full hour ahead of those tour busses, and best of all we got the all-inclusive tour, guide, and ticket to the ruins for a bargain $25/head!
Quickly getting into it, the grounds at Dzibilchaltun are f*%^ing awesome!! Do you see that temple in the distance? (zoom in to see it if you can’t) That’s the Temple of the Seven Dolls (even though Martina counted eight!). And during the first equinox, the sun can be seen in the temple corridor, like an architectural calendar. Bloody amazing. A calendar and sense of time all dependent on celestial bodies, 2012 here we come!
But here’s the real reason why we came to Dzibilchaltun!:
Xlacah Cenote! A sinkhole (say cenote, kinda sounds like sinkhole) older than your grandma’s hairdo! Incredible. Crystal clear freshwater, complete with fishies that love to say hi, give a little nibble! The whole of the Yucatan has these underground waterways and sinkholes that stretch for miles, miles, miles. The whole of the Yucatan. The left side of the cenote in the image above is shallow, as in three inches shallow. There are many rocks which provide a natural path to the mid part of the pool which is entirely walkable at around 5′ depth. Then, up in the top-right the deep part of the pool is deeeeep. Around 140 feet deep! And leads to some tunnels that connect to other cenotes all over the Yucatan. This place is amazing man. And the water is a constant perfect temperature.
Now there’s an incredible part to this day and the entire journey that is missing a visual counterpart. Kiko drove us back to Progreso after we were done swimming (like I said, some of the “official” tour groups came along while we were in the water and they didn’t even get in – Loooosers!). We had just under 2 hours before the boat departed so we told him we’d like to grab some food. He told us there was a McDonald’s, “No don’t turn on the air conditioning! NO by food we don’t mean McDonald’s!” We explained that we wanted what he would eat! Yucatan snackery! He took us to this bar right on the beach near where Jean and he work, and introduced us to this Yucatan-branded form of siesta, where you purchase a beer or liquor and get these countless trays – nearly 20 between the four of us – of treats, snacks, appetizers. It was ridiculous, they kept bringing food! Salsa, habanero sauce, tortilla wrapped delights, and in particular these two appetizers, one made from a seed that had the same consistency as a deviled egg yolk stuck inside an avocado, but it was a single seed; and the other made from some tiny seed that Kiko couldn’t translate. The seed is converted into several foods, included a clumpy substance similar to dried out brown sugar; another that is ground up with oil and looks like a darker form of hummus. Whatever those two foods are I have to find out! But seriously we bought 8 beers – I tipped Kiko by buying his beers – and refueled on some authentic cuisines! Yessir!
So getting back onto the boat was the best part. We all sware that we weren’t the only ones on the last bus back down the 4 mile pier, and you can see other people in the background heading to the boat. However we were the last ones on the boat! And as we were meandering back down the pier people all over the boat started waving at us, signaling to hurry back to the boat. “C’mon you guys, we’re ready to go!” As we stepped back onto the boat they quickly slammed the door behind us and asked us what room we were in because they didn’t have time to look us up – they had to trust we were legit passengers – and informed us we had less than 2 minutes until they raised anchor and headed back out to sea!
The day didn’t demand much in the way of activity or excitement really. We all packed our bags and generally just lounged about waiting for the adventure to begin. Martina and I did stock up on “emergency chocolate”, our thoughts being that should the situation become dire we could always survive at sea on a block of Green & Black for a couple weeks. WTF were we thinking! Neither of us were really prepared for what we were about to encounter:
Oh Mm Gee. It got real once in the taxi driving to the pier and we could spot the tail-exhaust of the ship from about 3/4 mile away! The whole ‘cruise industry’ has this thing down to a science: the staff at the port greeted us and took our one check-in bag, it disappeared and was in our room by the time we got there! Angie, Martina and I got our ‘fun pass’ identification cards which guaranteed us to have fun… or else. Us 3 were bunking in a room that had a queen-sized bed and a bed that folded out of the wall. I remember walking into the room, quickly dropping our bags and Martina, upon spotting the nightlights that operated behind plexi contour art proclaiming “yeeeeeeaahhhhhh!!!!” and literally jumping up and down.
We exited, took a random path to start learning our home for the next several days and quickly found our way to the top:
Holy crap.
These things are humongous, and wild. And run like clockwork. Within our first hour they announced our life vest and life raft tutorial which sounds cumbersome but really wasn’t and is necessary, you never know. We did a 180 from the port and started heading downstream to the delta and out into the Gulf. Even considering the tutorial we had enough time to catch glimpses of the city on the horizon and even spotted the neighborhood Angie lives in from the boat:
Bywater area.
On the same token this following shot is of the Lower Ninth Ward. It’s hard to tell in this image but consider this is the same Lower Ninth pictured in my ‘on the Eve of Change‘ post:
Now I’ve never been on a cruise before, I had no idea what to expect. In short these things are designed to pamper. It’s incredible, and pretty ridiculous, in an amazing way. Geez that doesn’t actually tell you anything does it! Okay, your bedroom is “turned down” twice a day – cleaned, changed, made anew; food is limitless, seriously you can eat your body weight daily if your intestines wouldn’t revolt; there’s round-the-clock entertainment in the form of musicians, gambling, bars, game rooms, stage performances, etc.; there’s a gym; multiple hot tubs and pools; there’s a sauna and spa for chrissake!; there’s even… an art gallery!
Clearly when I saw that I knew I was going to have some fun. is that Comic Sans? seriously? These ships were obviously designed in the early 90s! No but seriously there’s a real functioning art gallery on the ship, and yes we saw some people buying art, expensive art, like more expensive than all the expenses me and my party paid for the entire shebang. Times ten. People, are here to have fun, spend money, escape themselves, and be taken care of. and party.
The evening of the first full day on the ship, which we spent entirely at sea, there was a formal gathering and dinner which the captain emceed. Some people, “veteran cruisers” as they’re called, live for this. They came prepared. Not me, I packed two pairs of shorts, flip-flops and my boy scout belt! I didn’t even bring a towel, thinking it’d be so hot all the time I’d air dry when necessary (I forget the interior of places like these are always air-conditioned!); meanwhile these people packed jewelry and a pair of shoes for every day. Outclassed. Still, we had our fun:
Thanks – in part – to the performances, wisdom and hospitality of a one Rob the Pianoman.
If you take the Fantasy ship be sure to look this guy up. He plays at the Cleopatra Piano Bar (duh, he’s a Pianoman!). He made our night on several occassions. This Georgia boy will not disappoint, and his single-handed take on some classic songs (a la Dylan, Van Morrison, the Beatles) is not to be missed!
Next entry: Progreso, Dzibilchaltun, Mayan f*%^ing ruins!
so Shalin lives in a dollhouse, Angie lives in a dog shack, and Martina doesn’t actually live here and was the catalyst behind convincing me and Angie to take a boat trip to Mexico. All of which has nothing to do with the house pictured above, but at the same time that’s where they all live, but not really. New Orleans is weird. Yup, and these are my friends.
Getting to the house was difficult, which was expected. The driver of a city cab didn’t use the meter and charged me $12 for a journey that would have been difficult considering the weight of my backpack but wouldn’t have been untraverseable any other day on foot (I’ve since realized). He didn’t know how to locate the cross street given the address and suggested that having to drive to find the address might be too far for the fare. Welcome to New Orleans!
Once settled, the first order of business was food, so we set out for a walk in search of po-boys! While walking, it became clear that New Orleans architecture is obfuscated by the abundance of growth and green here. The city neighborhood’s landscapes are dominated by trees, plants, flowers, foliage and probably account for 30% of the density of the town:
As for dinner, I think I just about managed to capture everyone with their faces stuffed:
So service here is so slow and almost awkward, but is a journey in and of itself, you just have to roll with it. Then you’ll have a great time! Our waiter must have made at least four maybe five trips to the kitchen to actually figure out what they had in terms of deserts, but eventually landed us with exactly what we wanted:
Devoured, Gone. We Are Hungry.
As I arrived in the city in the mid-afternoon, by the time we finished with dinner the sun was set. Even having been here a week now I’m divided between seeing the city during the day and seeing it at night. It’s beautiful both ways:
The moon here is flipping bright. Bright, and low. And routinely about as big as I’ve ever seen it. Definitely as bright as I’ve ever seen it. So much light gets reflected here, which was more pronounced once we got out on the boat (will save that for the next post).
As for my first night in New Orleans I experienced something magical that I highly recommend to all if you want a flavor of New Orleans that you simply cannot find anywhere else. I journeyed – under Martina’s guide – to the Venue, a club up river where DJ Jubilee (a high school special educator during the day) and Katey Red (a transvestite rapper and teacher also) spin a distinct brand of music that is unlike anything else I’ve heard. Part hip-hop, part electronica, part bass, Bounce as it’s called has it’s own beat rhythm and vernacular that rivals Grime in the UK in its propensity to energy, but is contained to the shores of this fair city.
Music and club shots begin around minute 4. That mirrored wall… will live with me forever!
October and November are always a whirl. since 2001 I can’t remember an October or November that had any breathing room. Ever since I moved to London on 3 October 2001, jump forward 7 years 1 month and 1 day and I can’t wait for this November to be over. And I’m not only – but I am surely – talking about the election.
With the Flux Factory’s recent eviction, starting in early October, I completely boxed up my life and put everything I own into storage, in a shed at an undisclosed location in New Jersey. To be honest even I don’t know the location of said shed; but I would like to incredibly thank my friend Angie for her assistance with my upheaval. I haven’t produced a piece of art in over two months due to the eviction, and I’ve had to spend most of my time consolidating my life, including throwing away a fair number of tools, clothing, raw materials, incomplete artworks, etc. A fitting end to life at Flux Factory.
The month of October also saw me quit my job of 3 years, as I had to make a decision, to continue with life in NYC would require my income and creative control to move up or move on. I made my decision.
This decision was encouraged by some recent family health and grievance issues, which being in NYC I had no control over to either guide or invigorate. Also made problematic that my job didn’t give me much flexibility in terms of vacation, travel for health, time off, etc.
Knowing an eviction was imminent, and my employment would end concurrently, I’ve decided to go nomadic. I’m blogging from a cafe in Flatbush, Brooklyn, currently homeless and crashing on couches throughout the borough. At the end of this calendar week I’ll be travelling by train to my hometown of St. Louis, which I haven’t visited in over two years now (see this link).
But I’m by no means complaining. I’m loving these weeks, these moments with friends, the way in which one survives on coffee.
I’ll go back to about mid-October, when I took a trip upstate to the Farm, and spent some time with the frost, the leaves, and some new family including Pepper and some chickens Americano:
A sign of things to come, the end of Flux Factory’s residence-arm really began with Ian’s departure. He’s on a BMW motorcycle now, somewhere in Georgia or Florida (don’t worry he cast his absentee ballot!) en route out West:
With Ian’s departure, I also become the most-senior member at the Factory. This, I actually didn’t realize until nearly a week after Ian left and someone else pointed this out to me.
Even with an eviction pending, the Flux Factory staff continued to work hard, planning for our final ever party:
Chen works, sans desk, surrounded by boxes and piles of crap:
I love the doors ajar, the box that can’t close, the ad on the floor, the blue fork. Just throw it all away already!
Flux Factory knows how to make trash. We went from this:
To this, on numerous ocassions:
At the same time, we know how to turn a shitty DJ booth:
into a most-awesome DJ booth for one of the most-awesome parties ever:
The Flux Factory’s final party, the End of the End of the End (To Be Continued…) was definitely most-awesome. Props to Shalin for organizing over 50 performances for the evening. Although the true success of any party is when your six – yes, six – kegs run dry and you need a 2am beer run:
Me and Tyler at the Pathmark at 2am.
Flux Factory knows how to party:
White Limo gave a smashing closing performance:
are those Ironclad’s he’s wearing?
Unfortunately our partytude nearly made Seb cry:
and put Daupo to sleep:
it’s a shame I didn’t make a video, but the soundsystem was bumping at this moment.
And my costume, no doubt, was a hit:
me sitting on a couch-costume.
What will come of Flux Factory now? There’s a thought:
So starting this Sunday I’m on the road. Going to St. Louis via DC and Chicago on Amtrak. I’ll be in the Midwest by early next week for at least a month, if not two. My Flux Factory address is dead. Long live Flux Factory.
I’ll be around. My wifi is about to expire. Gotta press publish.
It seems all I have the time for lately is to collect for days on end loads of visual baggage and then offload it here for bots, feedreaders and humans alike to enjoy, I hope.
I don’t think the organization or juxtaposition of any of these images or tidbits of text make any sense, but then again life itself is a pretty uncohesive experience. why one day was I standing above a model of the city I live in thinking about a bike trip I took two months back, then finding myself documenting instances of green-n-yellow all over the city? who knows.
either way, have at it.
Socrates Sculpture Movie Park:
I really really recommend watching a movie in the park. Socrates Sculpture Park has a pretty fab summer schedule.
Watched the Korean film “The Host” with my matey Martina. Great movie. The park experience was the real delight though: we sat quite close to the front. The film progressed through dusk into nightfall, and after the credits we stood up and turned around to a park-at-capacity! Easily over 1,000 people! Which made the walk home (about 30 mins) a delight, surrounded by fellow Queens residents.
Matthew Barneyparty:
Matthew Barney threw some noise-core shindig in his Long Island City studio. Great space, and the evening included some spontaneous performances including this one of some tranny getting holed up in a portapotty while some guy in a suit siphoned the stall with such strength that it tipped over (I and everybody else in the crowd quickly ran away at that point!).
afterwards the DSNY workers uprighted the stall,
Alarms Loud:
alarm of storage building going off in background. a crane-truck passes by. some guy walking on the street. no other activity. big buildings in the background. desolate surroundings otherwise. this is Queens!
this is Queens (random photos):
warehouses, kids on bikes, stretch limo, man w/o shirt leaning on stretch.
south end of Flushing-Meadows Corona Park
in Flushing
Flushing Mall, asian-style marketplace
in Corona I think.
in Flushing, 7 train in middleground with Shea Stadium in far background (see below).
zoom in of picture above.
Green-N-Yellow around town:
Panoramic models:
A recent trip to the Queens Museum had me walking above their New York City Panorama. I’ve been to see the Panorama over a dozen times now, but this time I had a new familiarity with some areas of Queens that I hadn’t before, notably this area of Neponsit, Bell Harbor and Rockaway Park that I biked to the last week of May (over two months back). The thoughts of that bike trip were still fresh in my head (see houses below).
(the houses below are from the area above in the model)
