Saudi No Internet Super post!

September 22nd, 2009

I had no internet on the rig, so here is a collection of what I would have said if I’d been able to post.

The toilet has no seat, so I’ve had to squat over it. Which is a bit strange to me.

I had to talk to the crane crew and give them special instructions on how to life my tools to make sure the tools weren’t damaged. I went to the crew and asked if they spoke English. They all said yes. So I gave them the directions on how to lift my tools. At which point, the one that didn’t look bored and was listening intently said “Miiike” and pointed to my name stitched into my coveralls.

There is a local operator I am supposed to be training and helping him get ready to do the job by himself. He will wander off while you are talking to him, has no ability to self motivate and unless you drag him along with you and force him to work, he won’t do anything but sleep all day. I’m starting to call him Mohammed Gump.

I am getting a little irritated that I have to abide by the rules of Ramadan. I’m not Muslim, but it would be like if they came to the US during Lent and we told them to eat fish every Friday or go to jail. Oddly, nobody seems to be offended if they see you doing, but they are quick to tell you that somebody will get offended. It also nice to note that drinking water during the day is offensive, but allowing school girls to burn to death isn’t.

There is an old dog(With a beard!) that wanders around the camp. During the day, he sleeps under the buildings. At night and in the mornings, he sleeps on the sand. Most of the locals want nothing to do with him. It is a sort of sad story. He belonged to an Ex-pat that went back to the US for a month and disappeared. I scratched the dog’s ears once and gave him a piece of chicken and had a new best friend for the whole two weeks.

Speaking of dog, my roommate manages to leave the bathroom smelling like wet dog. Roommate also only reads the Bible and only watches the Passion of the Christ. I thought he was joking about the second one… but no. I saw him watch it at least 5 times.

We were given a satellite phone to use. It has to be outside so it can see the sky. Which is ok, unless there is a sandstorm going on. Which makes it fun trying to give update while spitting out sand. So they put in a phone next to us in our little bat cave. Which is great, except now we are getting calls from everybody wanting to know what is going on. Every three hours, we called Yusef to let him know what is happening. Every hour we got calls from Ryan, Santoshi, Saqib, Chris, Tim, Wayne, Dave, Mohammed, Mohammed, ImRahn, Bater, Gabriel, Sayed, and Bob. And every day somebody was upset that we didn’t tell them. One guy told me I need to call him every hour to tell him what was going on. Except he didn’t tell me his name or number. I’d call our dispatcher to connect me and he would go into a fit wanting to know who was going to pay for the call. It isn’t right that he has to pay for the call. This is one place it takes me roughly three seconds to remember how much I hate it. Normally, it takes a good month for me to get fed up with some place.

I’m leaving tonight and I should be home in a few days. I’m hoping I’m home for a little while, but it sounds like Nigeria might be on the horizon.

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Eating Cobra in Vietnam

August 10th, 2009

Before we went offshore, we spent the night in Danang.  Since Van Dam was there and speaks Vietnamese, we asked him to take us to get some proper local food.

 

We went to a restaurant and had an assortment of local dishes. After, Van Dam says there is some special we can have, but it is expensive and he wanted to know if I’d pay for it. I said sure and he went away and had a discussion with one of the staff.

 

Out comes and older man with a Sponge Bob pillow case.  The man has three fingers on his right hand. He has three fingers because he reaches into the pillow case that happens to be filled with cobras.

He snatched one out of it and pulled out a knife. As his helper pours us shots of whiskey, Cobraman cuts the snake open and pours some blood into every glass.  He starts to cut up the snake and my glass gets the still beating cobra heart inside of it like a macabre olive.

I’m told it is a high honor to drink this and that every part of the snake is magical. I may have ruined the moment by yelling “COBRAA!” instead of the proper cheer that sounded like “Roy”

I feel lucky. One guy got cobra penis in his.

 

It tasted rubbery and I could psychosomatically feel the heart beating as it went down and in my stomach later.

 

On the plus side, I can now check “Eat the still beating heart of a reptile” off of my bucket list.

Posted in Vietnam, funny, oilfield, travel, work | 2 Comments »

Lonely days are gone, I’m a goin’ home

August 2nd, 2009

I’m leaving Vietnam tomorrow.

The oil company was largely staffed by Russians. Which made things irritating. The Geologist asked about how much explosives I used, so I gave him an estimate. At which point he carved it in stone and sent it to his boss. That wanted to know why I used so much compared to another job that was going on at the same time.  I had to explain I just guessed. At which point I was accused of stealing explosives. We sorted that out. But for the entire job I was being asked questions every 10 minutes. Made it incredibly hard to do my job because I had to answering questions or remeasure things.

The rig was nice and new. In three years of operation they haven’t had a single Lost Time Injury. My only complaint was the food was poor and they were absolute jerks about internet, phone and fax use.

Vietnam itself is a pretty country. So far, the people have been very friendly and polite… but occasionally rude in a child like way. Like I’ve had people come up to me an rub me while saying “…white…”, I’ve had my picture taken plenty more times than is normal and I even had a few tell me “You don’t eat a lot for being so fat”

I went to a war museum in Ho Chi Minh City. It used to be called the American War Crimes Museum until about 20 years ago. Now it is the War Remnants Museum.  It is biased in that it only shows what the Americans and South Vietnamese did to the North Vietnamese. But it is a very stark in showing what hell war is. My tour guide said the museum affects Americans the most.

Motorcycles are everywhere and the traffic laws are more like traffic suggestions. But I think that is because up until just a few years ago, nobody had vehicles. Now, they are everywhere. Add to that corrupt police or a lack of police and you get people just zipping around.

The climate reminds me of Louisiana. Hot, humid and rainy.

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Vietnamese Medical Exam

July 9th, 2009

This morning, I went to get my Vietnamese Medical Exam to make sure I am fit to go offshore. They didn’t like my other one because it is almost 4 years old. So one of the secretaries took me down to the VSP hospital. VSP is the oil company, Vietsovpetro. Anything stick out about that name or logo?

Yeah… So most of the signs are in Russian, the building is clearly communist influenced, and the procedures are very…Russian.

My last medical took me 30 minutes and I saw one doctor. This one took 4 hours.

The area was all open air. There were rooms, All the doors opened out to a sidewalk. Like a motel.

I stopped at window one and got a form. After some discussion, I got a form in English. And worked my way down to Window 8. Getting stamps and extra forms and paying. From there, we went to get some bloodwork done.  Two nurses and three doctors stabbed me a dozen times in 8 locations and worked the needle around to find a vein.  And gave me a 50ml test tube to pee in. So I went to a bathroom 500 feet away that smelled awful and tried to pee in such a small tube. I didn’t do so hot. And no paper towels. So I had to walk back to the test room with open tube of wee I manged to get it all over the tube and my hands. Thy took this, grunted and stamped my paper.

From there, I went to another room. A doctor showed up, had me take off my shirt and raise my arms. He grunted and stamped my paper.

I went to another room. I had to do a vision test. Basic stuff, but one neat thing was they had a vision chart that had pictograms on it because of the illiteracy rate. My chart was the basic kind. I read the lowest line, She grunted and stamped my form. I walked across her little room and sat in another chair where a lady shined a flashlight in my eyes. She grunted and stamped my form.

I go to another room. Do the turn and cough. The doctor took out his aggression against Americans by squeezing way harder than is normal. He grunted and stamped my form.

Off to another room, I sit in a dental chair… my teeth get poked and prodded. She grunted and stamped my form. Directs me to another chair where a guy shoves something up each nostril so he can look up there, looks at my ears and makes me say ahh while jamming a tongue depresser in my mouth. He grunted and signed my form.

I go to another room. The doctor looks at me and asks if I get dizzy. I tell him no. He grunts and stamps my paper.

Another room, another doctor. This one makes me take off my shirt, slaps my back with something and grunts. He stamps my form and waves me to another room.

Another doctor shows up, listens to me with a stethoscope for a few minutes. He has me beat my chest like Tarzan while he listens.  He grunts and stamps my form. I’m starting to wonder if they are just jerking me around.

I go from there to the X-ray room. Huge line here. While we are waiting, an ambulance pulls up and drops off a stretcher with a woman that is clearly injured and totally blissed out on painkillers.

The X-ray tech(Who was incredibly pretty and incredibly unhappy with her job) directs me to the X-Ray machine. Makes me take off my shirt and press up against the machine. She took my X-ray, I went to look at the machine. Jokingly I said “No cancer?”She puffed up and said “You good. My machine no cause cancer!” She scowled, grunted and stamped my form.

Stretcher lady was still outside. From there I went to get an ECG. The doctor had me lay down and she stuck all the sensors on me and plugged me into the machine. After 10 minutes, she pulled off all sensors, grunted stamped my form and showed me to another room. And turned off the lights. After about 5 minutes of the weirdest psychological warfare, another doctor comes in. She has me take off my shirt and lay done. She rubs quite a lot of lube on my belly and starts using an ultrasound on me. She grunted and stamped my form. I left the room and stretcher lady is still outside, 30 minutes after being dropped off.

I go from there back to front part of the hospital and get a hearing test. After a bit of confusion with the rules, we get it sorted. Doctor grunts and stamps my form. And that is it. After 4 hours, the best medical minds in Vung Tau have decided I wear glasses and I am fat.

I also found out I am blood group “O”. I’d give blood but I am pretty sure mine they don’t want it.

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Names

July 8th, 2009

I’ve had an assistant working with me for two weeks now. I just found out his name is Van Dam. Which is cool. Sadly, I’ve been calling him Benjamin for two weeks.

He is Vietnamese, but it isn’t uncommon for a national to have an anglicized name either because they are tired of their name being mispronounced, They are given it is a nickname, their name sounds close or their parents actually named them that because it sounding cool. I’m not kidding. I worked with a Malaysian of Chinese decent named Nicholas.

His coveralls and hardhat said Benjamin, so I called him Benjamin. He never corrected me and he responded to it. So… I assumed it was Benjamin. Nope. Van Dam Nguyen. I feel a little bad,  but he never told me different.

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Communists don’t like jokes

July 7th, 2009

When you need to pick up something tubing with a forklift, you need to use what we call a strap. Since the tubing doesn’t have a flat area or forklift holes, you take this strap which is usually heavy duty nylon, wrap a few times around the object and the forks.

These aren’t assigned to anybody and are rarely assigned to a department. I had two I had finished using, and was rolling them up to put them away. A Vietnam national comes up and asks if he could have them. He pick them up and I ask(jokingly) “Do you have any money?” The guy looks confused and says no. So I, in my best fake anger, tell him to put them back. He looks a little more confused and even a little ashamed and puts it back.

I than spent 10 minutes explaining I was joking. I’m pretty sure I will be killed in my sleep now.

One thing I find unusual is the locals don’t look you in the eye, unless they work with expats a lot. For the most part, the office workers will. The more physical ones won’t. The forklift driver does so, but it almost feels like he is issuing a challenge. I don’t care.

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Motorcycle taxis

July 6th, 2009

Yesterday, I walked around town. We called it a day around noon and it wasn’t raining. So I walked along the water for a little while and took pictures. And had my picture taken a bunch of time. I guess I wandered into an area where they don’t have many white guys just walking through. I wish I had brought the Nigerian with me. A few beggars, but not too bad. I’ve done this long enough to be inoculated against beggars. Yes, I feel sad for them. But you give one money and it turns into mob.

I finally stopped because I got tired of telling guys on motorcycles that I didn’t want a ride.

Motorized vehicles are new to Vietnam, and the prevailing opinion of the drivers here is that they are your problem. People on motorcycles get offended when they have to slow down for pedestrians(which they normally don’t) or have to slow down or steer to avoid crashing into the 15 passenger van we use to get to the shop. Even walking against traffic, you will have a guy drive against traffic trying to offer you a ride. And they are persistent.

One guy told me 70,000 for the day. I said no. He said 50,000 for the day. Again, I said no. He said 20,000 for 4 hours. I told him no. He gave up after I didn’t want to rent his services for 10,000 an hour, proof that not all Asians are good at math.

I finally had enough and went back to the hotel where I could be left alone.

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Differences

July 3rd, 2009

It amazes me sometimes that I can travel to the opposite side of the world, and end up in a city that isn’t much different from any other city. But there are little differences.

I think the biggest is smoking. I don’t care if somebody smokes and I am fairly certain the dangers of secondhand smoke are overstated. Plus, I work in the oilfield. Cancer is a given. However, it is still startling to see somebody just light up in restaurant. Or trying to figure out why I’m having a hard time breathing only to realize I haven’t been in a smoke filled restaurant in ages.

Most of my travels in Europe, even if I don’t speak the language(Germany, Holland, Scotland),   I can still pick out meanings from signs just because of similarities in the language. Russia, Middle East and Asia are different. The languages and cultures are so alien to me, I feel lost.

It is interesting to me that here in Vietnam, there are more bilingual signs and English speakers than there are in Mexico, which shares a hemisphere with me. And they seem to be willing to learn English and share charliespeak with me. The Mexicans really weren’t.

And it isn’t just the number of ex-pats. Vung Tau is an oilfield town like Del Carmen and both are filled with roundeyes.The Vietnamese just seem more willing to help. Most of the ex-pats come from Asia and Oceania, So I guess English is just the agreed upon language.

This is also with my limited experiences in Vung Tau. I may change my mind when we go up to Danang or if I get to spend some time in Ho Chi Minh.

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Reception

July 1st, 2009


IMG_0607 (Large)

Originally uploaded by Fronzel
This is the front desk for our office in Vietnam.

The secretary came to me with some candy and offered it. I took it and she said she likes to give me candy because I must like it since I am so fat.

Two minutes later, she repeated the same thing about me in English to the other Vietnamese secretary.

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Vietnam

June 29th, 2009

The first night in Ho Chi Minh(not Saigon, but Ho Chi Minh. If you have a date in Saigon, She’ll love you long time in Ho Chi Minh) I stayed at a nice hotel. From there, I moved to the Song Hong Hotel that has an overly complicated shower control system.

Today, I ate a few Rambutan.  They taste pretty sweet and are delicious. Just disturbing looking.

The flight over was hard to sort out. I was given a date to be here by, and getting on a flight into Vietnam was difficult. It is a real hotspot apparently. Or just hot.  I worked for 12 hours today getting my equipment ready. I drank roughly 5 liters of water and sweated it all out.

From Ho Chi Minh I took a hydrofoil to Vung Tau. The people in Vung Tai are friendly, the city look like every other city down to the KFC on the corner(All hail the monoculture). Being a pedestrian is interesting. Motorcycles are everywhere and the drivers assume they have the right of way. I’ve noticed the signs spell the country as Viet Nam, not Vietnam. And Pronouncing it the redneck way of Vietnam instead of Vietnom will get you corrected. Maybe they shouldn’t put an A in it. Of course, I’m the jerk if I correct their pronunciation of my name.

I was hoping for a quick job, but with every email, the job gets longer.

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