Exactly what it is that I "do"

I get alot of questions from people to try and explain exactly what it is that I do on the ship. The answer: lots of stuff...most of which the guests dont see. But sometimes the best way to explain something is to get the answer from someone else. I just got this letter from a guest to my company, and I thought he put it quite nicely.

John wrote:

I had no idea the art auctions onboard cruise ships could be so much fun. My wife and I took our first cruise to Alaska last week where she led me to our first art auction. Initially I thought it would be boring but I would endure it to please my wife. Shortly into the auction as I listened to the auctioneer explain the nuances of each piece of art I became engrossed into his explanations of the history behind the art, the techniques used to create it, the artist himself and the value of each piece. We stayed for the whole first auction and attended each of the 2nd and last auctions buying additional art at each one. I did not expect to spend money on art during the cruise however we feel we’ve made a major change in the interior of our home as well as a good investment. Our Park West auctioneers onboard the Rhapsody of the Seas, Coleman Balogh and Tarun Rao, were both terrific in their presentation of the art as well as good honest people who were trying to both trying to educate and get the attendees interested in art as well as provide the art at very good prices. Coleman and Tarun accomplished both goals with us and we hope to see both again on future cruises.

Oz

Oz, down under, the world’s largest island. Writing from so far away, Australia seems simply a part of the collective experience. But what a collective experience, and what a thing to be simply included. I’ve finally reached a point that is as far as possible from everything I have ever known. Such a journey this has been. Such a different person it has made me. I’ve sailed the greatest of the seven seas, and seen even more ends of the Earth.

Now I must explain that Sydney was really my only experience of Australia and I will in no way try to argue that this is a proper representation of the continent of Australia. However, I have great faith in the fact that Sydney is one of the best representations of that continent. How fun to sign off a seven month contract and spend 9 days in the mecca of awesomeness for Oceania? First of all, I stayed up all night on the ship the night before. I had packing to do, yes, and end of cruise paperwork, and all that, but I just took it at an easy pace. I was too excited to sleep. I finished all that was left of my life on the Rhapsody at my own pace, said goodbye in my quiet way, and then waited for land. We had been at sea for a week. Those were 7 long sea days at the end. You might wonder if we had some crazy going away party or huge thing for my departure, but I don’t roll like that on the boat. I leave with a sort of quiet dignity. With a knowing smile of fondness for something that I called home for a wonderful part of my life. The Rhapsody of the Seas. A chapter in the life.
At 5:45 Laura, Jake, Lara and I met on the top deck. We could see land coming. There were hundreds of people up to see the dawning of Sydney. Its one of those things that goes beyond being pretty or beautiful to look at. This was the beauty and passion of seeing a new land, a new future, with a coming day. And for me especially, an unknown future away from the ship. The end of my first, successful contract. That weighed on me a lot too. My first after the fact moment of: “I did it.” I can do my job. One contract down and whats next?

We got cold up there so we made some hot chocolate, and then went to get breakfast. The Windjammer café sits just under the top deck, and has the same panoramic view as up top, but with biscuits and gravy on the full buffet. Here is where I saw the Sydney opera house for the very first time. We docked right next to it. Now that’s something, going outside after 7 sea days, and being AT the Sydney opera house. Not gonna lie, that impressed on me as a little bit of something cool. I’m not that easy to impress these days, but that was really a something to make a mental note of.



Getting off the ship was the most bizarre feeling of my entire contract. The most oddly comforting irritating sense of why am I not going to sleep on a boat tonight? That’s not normal, me not going back to the ship, like after I walk away right now, I wont be coming back to the boat. Oh…Really? Ohhhhhh So…what…do I do? First things first, I needed a room.

I knew I wanted to stay in King’s Cross. After all, I had been warned by multiple people NOT to go there. The hotel I had been planning to go to was not what I had expected from their website. It was a random house on the street, not a hotel, and it was locked with an unhealthily skinny man speaking some Slavic language angrily into his cell phone. When I tried to open the door he asked; “You want hotel?” and put his phone to my ear. The man on the other end clearly had no idea why a stranger would be asking him about a hotel room, so I ran away back to the cab. I ended up running into this same scary man at a club a week later, AND HE’S THE ONE WHO RECOGNIZED ME! That’s a whole nother bag of apples. It took another 20 minutes to find a place that had a single bedroom available. I suppose I’ve decided that I reached the point in my life shere I’m too good to share a hotel room with bunkmates. So I holed up in D*Lux Hostel in my own room where finally, I had a window, and after 7 months, time to myself...time off. That moment, of closing the door behind me, sitting down in a strange room, alone in a city thousands of miles away from everything, was a good moment. Peaceful. Relieving. In just a few seconds all the burden of months began to ease off my shoulders. There would be no guests after I left this room, as I, finally, was a guest myself. This was Coleman, Off.



What followed were my travels in Sydney as the traveler. Of course, wherever I went, I went under the guise of Coleman Vander Meer Balogh, International Art Auctioneer, as that IS what took me to Sydney, but really it was Coleman, convieniently shy and unashamedly curious. First things first…a four hour nap  (that’s a homage to the ever glamorous Palos Motel on Harlem that advertises their interstate famous whirlpool suites and 4 hour naps. As a child I always thought how nice that sounded. A whirlpool room for 4 hours where I can go to nap.)

After waking in a room (with a window! With trees outside of it!) I did the best thing I knew what to do when in a new place for the first time. I went for a walk. Now King’s Cross is not exactly what I would call a lovely area, I knew this in advance, but it was unexpectedly interesting. “Colorful.” There are tons of unnecessary stores like internet shops, travel centers, massage parlors, titty clubs, sex shops, costume venues, and food stations. They had Turkish pitas, Arabian falafel and pita, fried chicken, sushi trains, pizza, grills, and of course McDonalds. I usually opted for sushi train, but for that first day I went to the dandelion fountain court because they were having an outdoor food and book festival. I got some Asian and some Turkish and bought a new book, Naked Lunch. It is not an easy read. I walked down the road maybe 3 or 4 miles. I scoped out the scene, picked up some gear (including some new tank tops and a couple bottles of wine). I ran into some green conservationists and took a quiz on energy efficiency, and ended up winning a much needed green man bag made out of Sydney city banners. Neat! And then I just wandered on some more. Felt it out sort of. Sydney has a very comfortable modern feel, with just enough diversity and European heritage to not feel like any other metropolitan city. It felt a bit like Dublin…kind of London…and maybe some of Chicago as well. A good mixed feel to it. Just the sort of place to keep me entertained for a few days. Wandering home I got that sick sensation for a moment, that Oh God, I have to get to the boat…and then…it went away…the process of loss I suppose. I got it a few more times through out that trip, but it was mostly on that first day going into evening that my freedom came to me.

Of course I had to go out alone to the clubs, which is always kind of awkward. I don’t like going out alone, ok, I don’t PREFER it to going with company, but there’s no way I’m staying put in a hotel room in Sydney, AUSTRALIA. I drank some wine, geared up in my best outfit and hit the town on my own. And let me tell you this…Australians love Americans. Even if there are some out there that don’t, it don’t even matter. The ones that do love you, will find you, and it was totally worth it. Maybe I just happened to pick the right club. It wasn’t too dancy, it wasn’t too chill, it was just right…almost like that bitch with the porridge. I had a blast, and I even met a new group of friends who would go on to be a very significant part of my trip to Sydney. All on night one. If you don’t go balls out, you might as well have stayed home. I suppose being on my own has its own advantages as well. I’m fresher on my own. I don’t have to convince anyone to go anywhere special, because as most people know, I know what I like to do, and I trust my own adventurous instinct. I could always use helpful advice, even a trusty guide in some hazards, but usually I like leading the pack. And in Sydney, its lone wolf. I think I managed well enough anyway. Its funny though, my first night with a hotel room, and I didn’t even get to use it.

That next day was another one of those odd sensations. Not at sea…not on a boat, but waking up in Australia. How refreshing. Luckily that day I had a new friend to take me around. Got to see some beaches, went to a state park overlooking the bluffs that lead into Sydney harbor (I guess we weren’t in Sydney anymore), and then finally got a ride back to King’s Cross. It was a nice intro lesson to the layout of the city. That day was going to be a lazy day as well, but I wanted to do the typical thing in Sydney, which was the opera house. There were also a royal botanical garden, and the “central” Hyde Park on the way there, so I planned another long walk. But first NAPPPPppppppp.

So I again I present the image of me, as the stranger, wandering alone in the botanical gardens, the royal harbour, the main park, the reflecting pool, the “art and about” show, the grand cathedral and fountains, the aqua facility, and then finally the Sydney Opera House. They are all beautiful sights to see and witness, but there was something special for me to be on my own. They helped me to contemplate my time, reflect on who I am. In that way, like art, they teach you who you are and what culture is. I have pictures to show of course, check them out on facebook.

The next few days all sort of lazed together. I spent a lot of time online, hanging out, drinking coffee, hitting up the super convenient sushi train, and going to see the further sights of the city. I went to visit the Art Gallery of New South Wales where they have an amazing collection of pieces. I also wrote a lot of postcards here, listening to Phillip Glass as my soundtrack.
Intense Phillip Glass orchestrations in an art gallery is really a unique experience. You naturally correspond the music with the pieces you look at, synched to the music. Turn your head as the orchestra turns a corner of its own kind. It was pretty intense, but enormously inspiring. I left there with grand ideas of stories and books and possible futures. It left me excited about life, which I suppose is the whole point of traveling anyway. This was one of the best memories I have of Sydney. I continued to walk around that day for about 5 hours. Checking out the downtown area, writing more postcards, walking around the harbour, and finally I hit up an Asian noodle festival in the park (blargh!), and then decided to go see a movie. It was the first time I’d been in a movie theater in a very long time, and I enjoyed it. It’s all the “nothing” stuff I missed being away at sea. All the slow nothing time that you take granted when you don’t have a 24 hour schedule. What a relief.

That evening I watched some Australian TV before going out to party. They had Liza Minnelli on for their Australian Idol, which was hilarious, and then they advertised a Seinfeld reunion up next. What they didn’t advertise was that it was Curb Your Enthusiam! On national TV! How cool. But weird marketing. They didn’t mention anything about Curb until the episode started. Those Australians! Later they played a weird documentary about dug out living in the outback, people who carve their homes into the Earth. There was even a dugout motel. They also didn’t use your typical commercial transitions. Just a much different TV than what I’m used to. I say that Australia is like the US, but opposite. Like a mirror image of our culture. The same, but oddly different. I love it.

The next day I wasted a lot of time on the internet again, and even though I had planned to go to the beach I wanted to fed ex my business papers first. What I found, much to my frustration, was that Fed Ex had left Australia recently, and the other posting services just wouldn’t cut it. So, exasperated, I went to the park and laid out in the remainder of the day’s sun. It was OK. Afterwards I shopped for a Halloween costume I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to use that year and went back to the internet. That evening I planned on doing something a bit different…hitting up the Star City Casino! If you don’t know me, I love to gamble. More specifically, I like games. Tonight was no different. Getting to the casino was a bit of a hassle, but totally worth it. I took 300 bucks with me, suited up in my sleek black Ben Sherman track jacket, and set out for what had planned to be a couple hours of good time starting at 11pm. I left at 7 the next morning with 1100 bucks in my pocket…and a sly smile on my face.

I started with a drink, of course. I asked for a Manhattan, as this is my lucky drink, and the bartender gave me a weird look. It took him a while to make the drink, presumably he had to look it up. Theyre not “used” to people who order Manhattans. Well, get used to it. It tasted strongly of something that wasn’t a Manhattan, but I figured I’d let it slide and start on the fun. To ease into my mind frame I started on the slots. Now with slots, I know there are loose slots, and tight ones. For me, I have to find that ‘right’ one. And that night, I got lucky. It took me a good 5 minutes to search it out. It ended up having a very confusing Middle Eastern theme, and stood alone at the end of a row of ocean themed slots, all by itself. That’s got to be it. I put a twenty in the machine, it was a penny machine, and I just max betted my way to about 350 bucks. Seriously. I hit the main jackpot twice. The funniest part was that there was no one around to watch me win. I’d hit the jackpot, drink my Manhattan and just kind of laugh to myself like some old woman. I felt like a creepy old man, but I also felt great. After about an hour, I cut my losses (I was up to about 550 at one point) and headed off to play another game. Next up Roulette. Now I’m not so great with this game. I lost 100 dollars, but I played for a good hour. I saw more people loose their whole stash multiple times in that period, so I thought I did ok. Didn’t win nothing at the end, but I played the whole time. Its worth it in my eyes. And up next, my true passion, Black Jack. This was my big time at the Star City. Blackjack is a game of luck, but for me intuition. I know where my chances are, sure, where statistics lay, but there’s also the feel of the cards. I can feel the black jack, almost like a weird intuition, and I was unashamedly the most obnoxious person there. I scream when I get good cards. I have fun. Other people look sick. Like their life is on the line. No matter what, I want to have a good time. I played for hours. Screaming, yelling, and laughing the whole time. Isn’t that the point? Apparently my dealer didn’t think so. Her name was Natalia, and she was THE WORST dealer I have ever had. One of the rudest individuals in a customer service position I have ever encountered. I of course spoke to the manager about it, and I of course was hammered, but still. I considered writing a letter to the casino afterwards, and it would have gone like this:

To Whom It May Concern,

Good Day. My name is Coleman Balogh and last evening I immensely enjoyed your facilities at Star City Casino. There was one specific area of concern that I would like to bring to your attention, that of the performance and attitude of your Black Jack dealer Natalia. From the beginning of the 2 or so hours I spent with Natalia as a dealer, I was greeted with rudeness, terrible service, and an admitted disdain for the game I was currently enjoying. Upon greeting Natalia I asked her if we were going to have a fun game with her, at which she told the entire table in an Eastern European accent that she found Blackjack “boring” and couldn’t care less if we won or lost our money. After a continued awkward silence I tried to liven my own enjoyment of the game with remarks about successfully being dealt blackjack. At no point did I remark towards Natalia or her performance. None the less, anything I said was met with deliberate dirty looks from Natalia. Also, as I am American, I am not used to the slightly different rules for blackjack at your casino. If there was an action I did not understand, I was rudely told that the game we were playing was blackjack, and to not interrupt her until she was finished. She then insinuated that I am what’s “wrong” with ten dollar tables. I asked her to elaborate what she meant when she said there was something wrong with our table, and she responded “many things.” At one point she told me to not call her by her name, despite her name tag, so I was then forced to refer to her as “Dealer.” Later, after a considerable amount of winnings on my part, I tried to cash in my small chips for larger ones. She did so reluctantly and VERY slowly, complaining I had gotten the chips wet, and that I was responsible for slowing down the table. As embarrassing as this was for me as a guest at your casino, I continued the game none the less. I was winning after all. She then miscalculated my amount of chips and the manager present SAW AND COMMENTED on this and had her recount my chips so she did not give me back less than what I gave her. She again mentioned the fact that there was something “WRONG” with our table. I told her that for me things were right, as I was up a considerable amount of cash. She then told me it was probably a good idea for me to leave the table at that time. I responded that I wasn’t going anywhere, Dealer. After she left I spoke with her manager about the multiple incidents incurred while being dealt under Natalia.
Now, I myself work in a customer service environment that also has a casino. I do not work in the casino myself, but I work with their managers and marketing department. I can tell you that had one of our dealers treated a guest in such a manner, they would be instantly terminated from their role. I am in no way suggesting such actions be taken against this particular individual, but I do suggest that this dealer be addressed concerning these incidents to ensure that no other guest to your fine establishment is ever treated in such a poor way.

Thank you for your consideration,

Coleman Vander Meer Balogh

P.S. WHAT A BITCH!?!?!

The next day I mailed my shit and finally made it to the beach. I was kind of getting sick of being alone. Especially at the beach. Sure I got some sun, but it would be nice to talk to someone. I felt like I couldn’t leave my stuff to go swimming, and I also felt like a huge creeper looking at all the babes. And there were tons of them. Maybe, though, using the binoculars to stare was a bit much. Oh fuck it. Whatever. I am who I am…and I just won a grand playing black jack. So let em wonder. Also, I’m in the prime of my life. There’s no shame in going to the Aussie Bondai (!!) Beach alone.
There was a lovely sea cliff walk which went down the coast a couple of miles, so I did that for a few hours. I saw some cool sea cliffs, tidal pools with lobsters, and of course I found an amazing shore side cemetery at twilight. It was one of the most beautiful and spooky cemeteries I have even visited. I also don’t think that visiting cemeteries is at all “weird.” They are, essentially, very well kept parks, monumenting the love and adoration that individuals had for the people in their lives. They are mysterious, they are spooky, but they are also pure representations of who we are as a species. Paying homage to those who came before, remembrances of the love we shared. I think they are beautiful, sometimes sad, but also joyful. Haunting in an emotional and spiritual way. They are indeed sacred spots on this world, and I am thankful to share them. The energy simply feels different, and each plot is unique. A bit macabre, but fascinating none the less.

I’ve gotten pretty good at figuring out public transport, which I think is an accomplishment. It makes me feel like a puzzle solver, and a man of the world. Wherever I go, I can take a bus. Great job! Also, wherever I go I either take my Bahamian or Marshall Island’s Seamans book. They are records of my travels at sea and the ships I have worked on. They look just like passports, and since I keep my money in them, I take them out for people to see when I pay for stuff. I usually get a comment from people (which always strikes up a nice conversation) about where I’m from. I say I’m from the Bahamas or the Marshall Islands and people usually look at me in such a way. A way of knowing…or longing maybe. It;s an odd look, an emotion that rarely gets used. For me it;s like a spell I can cast on people. If anyone asks further, I tell them I’m an international art dealer. It’s the truth after all, well kind of. But it’s a fun part to play. I interact in people in ways I never had before. No longer am I just a tourist…I am a Traveller…an Observer. I love it. I always leave them with a kind smile and a farewell.

Against my better judgment I decided to take a tour the next day. I hadn’t really ventured out of the city and I and organized adventures, but I heard that the Blue Mountains were definitely something to see. There were tons of tours to take, but I opted for an alternative. It was advertised as a small tour, a “Walkabout” guided by an aborigine. It was nice. Different from what I expected, but worth while. I would judge it a mild success. The worst thing about it was that the small group consisted of me, the guide, and a terrible older couple from Arizona. They looked like they stepped right off the ship, wearing matching denim outfits (shirts and jeans) and identical “Australia” hats with corresponding kangaroos. It was embarrassing for me. He basically introduced himself by farting (and continued his obscene flatulence through out the walkabout) and laughing at everything he said like it was a hilarious surprise. For instance: “I guess were definitely going to see the Blue Mountains today Blargh Hahahahaha!” Yeah, I guess we will. And they also had a hard time keeping up in the difficult terrain of the “bush,” which is nobody’s fault really, but when she started to complain it was nice to hear her husband say that she knew in advance it would be difficult and insisted. The tour itself was nice, not very scenic though. It was the woods, you know? I do a lot of hiking in the woods, and I really had to push myself to remind my senses I was in another continent and not Chicagoland. On the other hand I did get a nice dose of Aborigine culture and mythos. I learned about the Rainbow Serpent (hehe), the feeling trees, dream time (an interesting concept about putting yourself into another plane of existence) and essentially the purpose of the walkabout. Luckily, our guide encouraged us to be quiet. It did little to mute Arizona’s flatulence or his unnecessary hysterics. My farewell to them was worthwhile. We hit up a local bar afterwards where we had only 15 minutes before the train back to the city arrived. I offered to buy my guide a beer, and out of kindness offered a beer to the couple. They said they’d take two diet cokes, and I told them I’d be happy to buy them a beer. The cokes are on their own. Of course I got the fuckers their cokes anyways, but when the train pulled up ahead of schedule, I ran away. Didn’t get to say good bye, just took off, and left them in my trail. And that’s where I’m happy to leave them. I made the train with seconds to spare.

Did some more typical nightlife before hitting the hay. Got some spinach and cheese pie, and some suhi. The next day I did an ultra tourist thing again. I went to the market to go bag shopping and grab some souvenirs for home. I went to the beautiful downtown Chinease friendship garden (check out those pics), had some tea and dim sum. Afterwards I went to Wildlife World to finally see some kangaroos and koalas. They were nice, but it was pretty much like being at the zoo.
Worth the ticket? Maybe not, but how many times am I going to be in Australia? And how many times will I win at Blackjack? All of them! I went to go see the stupid Journey to Mecca at Imax (it was the largest screen in the world) where I fell asleep, and then had dinner at a noodle shop in Chinatown. That night, I partied. I partied so hard I forgot that I was a human being. I met so many crazy people, and ended the evening at 9am arguing with front desk guy convinced that the elevator was broken because it wasn’t responding quickly enough to me pushing it repeatedly. I was out of my head, but it was awesome. To think I was forgetting what its like to party so hard. Won’t let it happen again. To think of those people I interacted with at those three different clubs. What did I say? Why did I do that!? Will they ever remember me? The Shanghai nightclub above that one hotel? The bathroom? Wilco? Phoenix which doesn’t open till 6am? The popsicles and tootsie rolls? The music? Video DJs? It was such a blur, even then, but I feel like if people got awards, I’d be somewhere on top that night. Even alone, it’s a great party.

I was going to go to the beach that next day, but slept instead. I needed it. I didn’t do a thing that day. Sat inside, went to the fair at the dandelion fountain, and then just sort of hung out. After that, I’m almost done with Sydney at this point, and I feel like I got a very decent taste. Mostly, I’ve been reflecting a lot on who I am, and what I am meant to do. I’m getting this urge inside to do something great with my life, something fantastic. I know what I’m doing is fantastic already, but it’s solely individual. I don’t get to share how exciting things are as much as I’d like. I want to show everyone the excitement as it were. I want to show the world. I think about Wisconsin a lot. It is the place of my dreams, and I think of it more than any other place across the globe. I can’t say why, and I think that’s the real clue. Something instinctually attracts me there. Like it means something very special. Like it is very significant for that next step in my progression. I feel I should take my dreams there, the book I had dreamt, the story, telling it, letting it out, and going up there to retreat. That is what I must do. This is my destiny. I can feel it.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll be like this for my whole life, wandering through the world, with people coming in and out of my life constantly. Essentially I am the lonely traveler. I embrace it, but I have to be careful of a life like this, what it makes me. At this point I am looking forward to going home again, back to base, my friends and family. I wonder, and even fear, that no one can understand who I am, that even I don’t know myself anymore. This unfamiliarity in my own mind and body. Who did I become? Is this what I had wanted, or could I have even known what it is that I now enjoy? There are so many facets of this experience that I can’t put into words, even to touch upon in my own thoughts. The intangible. The excitement of the unknown. I wonder if everyone feels this way at times, or is it the product of my strange reality. I know that my reality is unlike anyones I’ve ever known, and it’s mostly a good thing, but I also wonder if perhaps this reality helps to further my own insecurities, or in the very least creates new ones for me to hurdle, distractions, a distrust for a constant reality. Yet, I couldn’t imagine a better life that what I have right now. So I continue to ponder the imperfectness of our world. In the life that I’ve found, one that is better than any other I’ve experienced, I still find even more things to be afraid of, some of which I seem greater fears than the ones before. Do I want to be the man I’m becoming? Do I have a choice? Perhaps that is what builds people into greatness, risking that which turns the others into failures. For me, I can simply strive to be unlike any other.

I’m going out to the bar to meet up with my old friends from that first night, one last wonderful hurrah (and it truly was wonderful) at the clubs, and then I have one more day in Sydney. The famous Sydney opera has an open house, and there’s the modern art museum and an oyster bar nearby. That’s my final plan for Australia. Then it’s to Miami for advanced business training and finally, one more time, after ALL this time, Home.



Home.