In October 1966 I got a working passage on the Hamburg South American cargo ship Cap Frío. I was 18. The first time I boarded the ship was in dry dock in North Vancouver, Canada. Straightaway the bosun put me to work cleaning the crew toilets and berated me when he found me smoking a cigarette. Over the month long voyage to Sydney Australia our relationship barely improved. Passing under the Lions Gate bridge I waved to my girlfriend on the Prospect Point lookout. In a waterfront bar in San Francisco the woman bar person scolded me for referring to the Cap Frío as a boat. It’s a ship, she said. In San Pedro, the port at San Diego, the mess boy got caught stealing a car, was fired and deported, and I was promoted from toilet detail to messejunge, serving the crew, washing dishes, etc. My German vocabulary grew to include “riz o kartofel?” (do you want rice or potato?). The cook’s fresh bread every morning smelled divine. There was no fuss made over me when we crossed the equator, the first time for me. I tried to fry an egg on the deck but just made a mess. Also, I completed an experiment started in Vancouver to observe which way the water went down the drain, clockwise in the northern hemisphere and anti-clockwise in the Southern Hemisphere. Inconclusive. In Sydney I left the ship but attended a football (soccer) game between ships’ crews in a city park, to cheer on the Cap Frío side. Altogether an adventure, the first of many before I returned to Vancouver three years later. Just now I read that the ship met its end on a Pakistan ship breaker beach in 1981.