2 July

Azerbaijan Diaries – Offshore

We abandoned the relative comfort of land on Thursday the 19th when we left the quayside onboard the Svetlomor 2, a Russian supply boat now reconverted to suit offshore survey work. She is quite a big ship with a bright orange hull and big deck space, now filled by our containers and all the gear. I was surprised by the living arrangements onboard and pleased that my bed was solid, with clean sheets and no crawling neighbours to share it with. Down on the first floor we have the cantine where we share few moments with the rest of the crew over some giant sized meals and a cup of coffee. The cooks are actually giving us some pretty good food and a decent choice too. My friend “chief”, at least that’s what I call him after being addressed by him as “capo”, is on a mission to feed me to death throwing on a plate massive amounts of rice, meat and curry sauce. The meat is in fact the core of every meal in Azerbaijan and even offshore. The choice always includes beef, chicken, lamb and occasionally some kind of unidentified bird.

When working offshore, either on a platform or on a vessel you divide in two shifts of twelve hours each, with no days off whatsoever, apart from weather downtime. I ended up leading the night shift which has its pros and cons; you have to get used to live the vampire life for few weeks but at least you are not working under the merciless sun. So for me the usual “day” starts at 23.00 when I fall from the upper bed in the cabin and try to understand who I am and what’s going on. After putting my coverall, boots and hard hat I descent the stairs to the cantine where the rest of the zombies in my shift are gathering to get a double coffee and the occasional piece of cake. Since I am their shift leader I start going through what we will be doing and remind them all the safety issues involved. Then they all sign a document after which my ass is covered in case someone gets injured. Very important part! I have to say that I cant complain about the guys, they are a good laugh and work hard, although sometimes I feel a bit like the teacher on a school trip trying to gather everyone together all the time. Only two of them, Ilgar and Aghayev, speak some English and have been used from the beginning as translators. The other three are Valeh, an Azeri guy from the Ministry of Environment, Irada, a girl from the Marine Lab and Farhuk, a 62 year old character from the lab as well. He actually knows a couple of words in Italian so we are trying to make some reciprocal language lessons.

At about midnight we start our shift, taking over the work from the day shift guys. It all starts slow but at night the time seems to go faster, maybe because the only thing you see is the deck and everywhere around is dark, a part from when you are near one of the many oil platforms scattered around.

During the night your focus is somehow better and soon enough you turn towards what used to be just a big black canvas only to see a glimpse of red, a stroke of pink and some faded blue; the dawn is on it’s way. At 5.30am it’s still dark but everything on the horizon starts to get a contour, shapes gradually become tridimensional and the sea is not just a noise anymore. That’s the beauty of the night shift, the magic of a dawn. See, the romanticism stereotyped the sunset as the most suggestive periodical sky display, but if you think about it, what you are staring at is what you have seen for the all day disappearing in a yellow and red dressing. On the contrary, before the sun rises your eyes are filled with black; your brain only has vague images of your surroundings, more based on perception than sight. When the sun starts to peak over the horizon, this approximate picture in your brain is gradually replaced when the dim light reveals the truth of things. It’s like either opening or closing the lid of a box; it’s the surprise that counts.

-End of part one-