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I love July. On the fifteenth, I saw Paul McCartney live at Yankee Stadium. On the seventeenth, I left on a cruise for Bermuda. Here I am back from cruising in what I’d like to call the Bermuda Oblong (not a fan of the other geometry, ‘triangle’). And somewhere, well into the Atlantic Ocean, which wasn’t overly pacific (calm), I realized my ship was headed towards that geometric triangle nemesis and I thought about tricking fate and all that jazz, so I coined the term, ‘Bermuda Oblong’ which had the instant effect of making me feel better (safer). Anatomy at Rutgers taught me about the medulla oblongata and under naked, smog less skies, I thought about my cerebral correlation between Bermuda and the medulla oblongata which contains cardiac, respiratory, and vomiting centers and deals with involuntary functions such as breathing, heart rate and blood pressure. Watch how I develop this. (How the mind works at sea)

I can’t tell you how many times walking to a deserted part of the ship, I thought about Christopher Columbus and the ‘Pinto’ and the rest of his fleet and all they endured on the voyage to the land that would one day be in a debt crisis. Columbus’s ships were like a dingy for the ocean liner I was on. And the 1000 feet of cruise ship wasn’t enough for me. I wanted endless ship as we neared the triangle (oblong). That first night, by myself, I thought I saw a white whale (the real ‘Moby Dick’) I love Gregory Peck; one of my favorite actors.

Why did Gregory take the Captain Ahab role? Why did Robert Shaw take the Sam Quint role in ‘Jaws?’ It made sense as the ship rocked. Both were great roles with undefeatable adversaries and brilliant writers and directors. I love Gregory Peck’s acting so much I almost wanted him to beat the white whale even though I’m a whale watcher and lover. Love chemistry and meclizine chewable tablets/chew just one per day. I was ‘Superman;’ fearless and impervious to sea sickness since I pre-medicated. Ah, but the medulla oblongata controls vomiting. Everything was coming together; clear as the starry, starry night. So if I got sick, the Bermuda triangle (oblong) would be at fault. And the oblongata also controls blood pressure which is influenced by another nemesis of mine; salt, sodium, sneaky additions to food processing to make it taste good and seduce you. Why was salt on my mind; because if anything happened, I’d be afloat in a life boat, in a life jacket surrounded by a sea of salt.

Only about 6% of our daily sodium comes from salt added at the table. Another 5% comes from salt added during cooking. Most of the rest — up to an estimated 77% — comes from processed or restaurant foods. You can help counter the negative effects of a high-salt diet with physical activity. Studies show that the more physically active you are, the less your blood pressure rises in response to a high-salt diet. A little bit later, I’ll talk about physical activity on the ship. Too much salt can have detrimental effects on the heart, kidneys, and blood vessels. Limit sodium intake to 1500mg/day. American men consume between 3,100 mg and 4,700 mg of sodium per day; women consume between 2,300 mg and 3,100 mg. (duh, men eat more.) Salt and other forms of sodium are used to bind and stabilize ingredients and as preservatives, flavor enhancers, and color enhancers.

Damn, salt is all around us, like the movie ‘The Blob’ with a young Steve McQueen. And if we had to adjust to a low salt diet, it could take 8 to 12 weeks to do so. Its quicker/easier coming off other things like ten martinis a day; shaken not stirred. And I wondered about sea salt. It’s the same damn sodium content; so the fast food, sweet little girl, ‘Wendy’ who’s been hawking sea salt in her French fries; its still poison for our bodies. Ah, the things you think about in the middle of a salty ocean in the middle of the night.

Back to ship stuff: I left the house last Sunday and 37 minutes later, Bayonne, N.J. ship terminal; no airport, no scanning or touching body in security checks and therefore no taking off sneakers (I bought clean white socks anyway), no river bridges or tunnels; just a peaceful NJ Turnpike without many cars on a Sunday morning heading north or to Bayonne, originally inhabited by Native-Americans. Before going to staterooms, guests were directed to the lunch buffet on deck ten; endless food; wondrously portentous of things to come. After lunch buffet, we saw the women’s soccer finals in the ship theatre; a hundred people yelling “USA. USA.”

Buffet means the wedding scene in ‘Goodbye Columbus’ to me; the power of movies (media). Ever since, I’ve been a recluse at a buffet, opting to wait until everyone’s plate is full and then trying the invisibility gig with my plate only partially placated. ‘Goodbye Columbus’ was written by Phillip Roth, who went to my Newark high school, a decade apart. As legend tells, perhaps some of that story may’ve happened to Phillip in real life; and a similar story, ‘Goodbye Niagara Falls’, happened to me (mentioned in last week’s blog.) I love the personal spice of embitter; seems to make for poignant writing later in life.

First day at sea (two day voyage to Bermuda and three days in port) I hit the crowded gymnasium which had four exercise bikes for the 2000 sailing guests. I had to wait 40 minutes to bike and read about the futuristic next hundred years. I love what I read during my first 20 minutes on the bike. The birthday card with a computer chip that sings to you has more computer power than all the Allied forces in 1945. And then we throw the card away. I had to jump off the bike and let it recycle to zero; because it was crowded, we were only allowed twenty minutes. I need ninety minutes. Yes, I’m an exercise cheat and me being 6′ 6,” I’m hugely obvious. Maybe that’s why I was left alone. Eventually, we’ll have access to the internet in our glasses or contact lenses. A few blogs ago I told about an online eyeglass company that sells a complete frame and lens for $6.95!  And one day we’ll have a driverless car and advanced GPS will do most of the work. We travelled with good friends. My friend Kenneth is a ‘Bondologist’; means he knows James Bond trivia so the contest he (we) won sitting at the Martini Bar, drinking club soda, got us to the bridge of the ship to meet the Captain amidst more security than an airport. The GPS the ship uses is accurate to 45 feet in the middle of a vast ocean. Oh, they filled up a million gallons of fuel before leaving port.

Back to the future while biking: Mind reading is coming. Today we have fMRI (functional magnetic resonance imaging). fMRI can locate the presence of oxygen contained within hemoglobin in the blood and can even detect the motion of thoughts in the living brain to minute resolutions. I can just imagine our lawmakers down in Washington who can’t even peaceably solve the debt issue (I don’t like the word-‘crisis’), trying to come up with laws dealing with mind reading. Ah, if you could read my mind now. An interesting spiritual thought. If we’ll be able to read thoughts, what about………?  Enough future.

Our dinners on the Celebrity ‘Summit’ ship were at 8:30 and we sat next to the Captain’s table which means our sometimes ‘loosey goosey’ Jersey shore manners were left in the stateroom with round view of the white capped ocean, partially obscured by condensation droplets on the window. I remember the movie ‘Diner’ where a minor largesse character fascinates the gang of young boys by ordering everything on one side of the menu. Yours truly did that each night to the ‘Appetizers.’ Why not, I was on vacation. A whole menu of appetizers yielded a ‘big salad’ from ‘Seinfeld.’

I hit the gym every day and sarcastically noted it was easier, with no waiting, to get on the exercise bike non-stop each day. I wondered why. Curiously, on the last day in port, having done all the touring days before, I embarked on a three hour work out and more future read. At the witching second hour, the massive gym was down to three guests; me and a pair of Pennsylvania psychologists. We huddled, whispered, “telomeres” and “you know why we’re only here” and then they left, leaving me to solitary thoughts and i-pod music from the sixties.

Blog confession time: By the fifth day of excessive eating, three daily meals, 5 PM Sushi, and un-frozen pizza at midnight, something strange was happening. I’m an old movie romantic and suddenly at breakfast that morning, I couldn’t look at food anymore and grabbed a banana, scratched under my arms, and spinned wildly around mentally; all because I had just thought about the movie ‘A Clockwork Orange’ and could I be experiencing what Alex (Malcolm McDowell) did; a form of aversion therapy. I dig the author, Anthony Burgess and wonder how and why the etiology of the story. Was he misdiagnosed with six months to live and what we read/see is the product of staying awake for those last months of only writing? I don’t know.

I rubbed my eyes; were they being held open by images of chocolate croissants and egg-white omelets (funny how all good breakfast treats are French). I wanted no more food indulgences. Thank goodness for exercise and ocean air. I was cured back to voluminous food mastication by dinner; the left side of the menu belonged to me.   Subliminal: Somalia

On most days after working out, I used the indoor pool for thalassotherapy, an unproven medical use of saltwater for therapy. The pool was hot and salty with powerful soothing whirlpool jets; close your eyes, look to the heavens through glass, hear echoes of distant mythological voices and confirm a vacating effect. Damn, there was no one around to feed me grapes from the buffet.

Now to Bermuda: On day one, with three day unlimited bus/ferry pass, we went to Horseshoe Bay Beach because. With three cruise ships around, by high noon I was back at the Jersey shore, without my jetty, sitting under an umbrella, stuck in a rented chair that wouldn’t let go and sounds of silence deleted by the thousands of beach tourists. Give me liberty or give me a deserted beach next time.

 

Clouds formed and precipitated a gold rush to the buses, ill prepared. But Bermuda was magical. I sat by the bus window, my face pressed close to glass, my nose taking in large amounts of un-regulated emissions, looking out at sheer simple perfection and idyllic beauty. I love the quaintness and how every blade of grass, leaf and flower were accounted for. Pastel (even deep purple) homes were impeccably kept. No wonder why Michael Bloomberg, Michael Douglas and Ross Perot have homes here. I thought about the song ‘Everywhere’ by Fleetwood Mac. I love Bermuda; sheer earth-bound perfection. No moped in my Bermuda sojourn; if I broke my jaw playing tennis in Baltimore, can you imagine what I’d do on a moped

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On day two, we ferried to St. George’s, as quaint as Webster could define. I walked into St. Peter’s church where they have been worshipping since 1612.  I spent a few quiet moments just as if I were at my jetty. At high noon we saw a dunking of a woman for being a ‘nag’ and strolled into an art store where I took a picture of a painting which still moves me. I wanted to know what was in the room behind the propped window.

From there: ‘Crystal Cave’ by bus, past a banyan tree and then deep into mother earth. Finally, a bus to Hamilton, Bermuda; a big little shopping quaint city; then a ferry back to the dock at the bay, all the while thinking how often I’d like to come back to this magical island. Two days later we were back driving through Bayonne, on the way home from near nirvana, satiated, rested and in need of massive amounts of catching up on news. Bermuda farewell until.

Norway news was on CNN on the ship’s television and glued myself instead of a late afternoon nap. Then Amy Winehouse. So I was saddened coming off the ship. At home, first function was You Tube and listening to her sing, “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow.” Why everything? It’s almost a “Blowing in the Wind” question. Why so many gone at 27? Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Curt Cobain and now Amy Winehouse.

Amy Winehouse video:

watch?v=NDXgKIpJyIk&feature=share

Somewhere in the confluences of self-introspection, I can’t help but ask, “Where was I?” I can’t explain, but it’s always there; some kind of guilt. I don’t know. Is there a wormhole waiting for me, where I might make a difference? A parallel world? A place Maria (Natalie Wood) sang about at the end of ‘West Side Story.’  I think without knowing what it means. Now it’s exercise bike time. Note, I didn’t say ‘exorcise.’ An hour after coming home to a cool house (and it’s been over 100 degrees for 24 straight days in Texas. Poor cousin Stuart. And they say no global warming.), I ran to the front door, put on an old pair of shoes and ceremoniously clicked heels together, almost yelling, “There’s no place like home.” And there isn’t. My wife yelled from upstairs, “What did you say?” I was too tired so I said, “Never mind.”

 

CONTACT INFORMATION:

website: http://vichywater.net

Facebook: Cal Schwartz

Twitter: Earthood

E-mail: earthood@gmail.com

 

 

Vichy Water Book Trailer:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qj2ko9gcC_M

LINKS:

link to magical Jersey shore.   Also check out the ‘Jersey Shore Icon Contest.

http://www.visitthejerseyshore.com/