h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

It is about 1970 and as a loner of twenty years old I already roamed Western Europe for a while and finally I made a passionate plan to go to Israël to serve the army, because of what was told to me about World War two, although I'm not Jewish. In my head it would be the first real destiny of my life.

But hitchhiking isn't that easy if you want to go to the Middle East, not even for me in those days and a free ride on a bote from Spain seemed to me a clever plan of action.
I finally ended up in Valencia en rather fast I'd found the harbour area and at the same afternoon I got to know a vagabond (not wanting to use the word tramp) who spoke rather well English. Day and night he lived in the harbour of Valencia, already for several years. Johnson,was his name.
He had been a captain at several ships and finally stranded here in Valencia where he waited till he had become 65. Here he could live in the mild Mediterranian climate. At the age of 65 he wanted to return to his homeland, Sweden, where he could make a living of his retirement pay.

Soon we became friends and Johnson showed me the whole harbour-area. He told me that because of his captainpapers he was "allowed" to enter ships and that he would take me with him to the ships to arrange some food for us in the kitchens. I remember one of his survivaladvices;"if you get food in one of those kitchens,accept food like chickensoup and not steaks 'cause then you waste your time by only chewing". It sounded like real wisdom and somewhow it was and my confidence was building up for this big seaman.

In the evening of that same day he enthusiasticly came up to me and told me he'd discovered a ship that would departure the next day to Israël and that I could join them. He had arranged all that.

"So let's make a party, Alfredo",he said, "and lets buy some rum. Do buy some for both of us in the store overthere, oké?!".
"Oké,I'll get a big bottle of white Bacardi" I replied and was glad that finally a plan of mine succeeded and I gladly bought white rum of my last peseta's. Yes, this was time for a party and that evening we both sat on the street, leaning against a wall, drinking Bacardi and as the hours passed some of his fellow Spanish outcasts joined us.
Finally all of us fell asleep and the Mediterranian night shielded us.

In the morning I kicked the big body of Johnson awake - whom I found two streets futher away - so that he could introduce me at that ship that would bring me to my promised land.
"I'm sorry, Alfredo, but there is no ship that sails to Israël.None" he confessed.
That was a serious setback and I went to the harbour on my own, but after a few hours we already both continued our combined streetlife and in the weeks to come we became real comrades.

I got to know people that lived in ruins on there own, or with wife and children for whom they cared with great love. Sometimes we made plans to earn some money.

Almost every evening - around seven - we all met close to the ruins, including Johnson and me and everybody put something eatable at a sheet iron that lay on a fire they'd made. And there was always sómeone who had arranged a big bottle of very cheap wine.They were all Spaniards who belonged to the poorest of them all.

Despite that, I was welcome to share their food and wine and after a while I sometimes could bring some of my own.
At a rare occasion I slept ín their ruins on the ground, between their beds, but that wasn't such a succes because of their sexual avances in the dead of night. I'd run away to the beach.

Johnson and I became unseparable those weeks, but just because of that I unconciously must have felt there had to be paid off an old score.
Because one night Johnson invited me to join him in a visit to a real fishermans bar which was related to the fish auction. It was a real nightbar that was open from two at night till about seven o'clock.
It was very full and smoky,I remember. Even for me. Inside Johnson and I went our own way, cause he knew many people.

I ordered one glass of wine after another on my account and I was having a good time, whatever I did. At break of dawn I finally sneaked my way out without paying anything, in search for a sleep at the beach of Valencia.

Now it was mý turn to be kicked awake by someone, who appeared to be Johnson of course,"because as long as you don't pay your bill overthere, I'm not allowed to enter that bar anymore!!", he said with a real angry and desparate face.

But also in thát evening of that same day, we all ate and drank together ,close to the ruins.

After a few weeks I suddenly left Valencia unannounced.
Must have been my way of leaving.
Searched my future in the deep South of Spain.

So now - in this Journal,30 years later - time has come, to speak the unspoken:

"Dear Johnson,

you were like a father to me and I bear this time of us in Valencia as a beloved memory in my heart.
You most probably are dead now for many years, as it is more than 30 years ago, but my memory of you and us will survive.

Cheers, sailor!"


Alfredo, in the harbour of Amsterdam , 2002

P.S. The G2G2 link is F70478?thread=208616

It is now June 2003 and last month I felt the need to try to find ány traces of the man in Sweden (although I realize he must be dead now for many years).
I started with Google and in a week’s time ,I was already at the real source of information in Sweden.
But their conclusion was disappointing; I had too little information for them to be able to trace his passed in Sweden.

Despite that fact, I am still satisfied, as I expressed in my last mail to “Annette Joelsson” at may 28, 2003.

I did not find traces of Johnson, but I did find something else, although I cannot give it a name.


Alfredo, June 2003, Amsterdam.

P.S. Here is my e-mail correspondence during my research



Dear Sir/Madam, 2003 April 25 Amsterdam


I have started a serious search for the whereabouts of a person called
"Johnson".

Yes, it's a long time ago. It was about 1970 (!) and I met the man and
joined his company in the harbour and streets of Valencia, Spain.

1) His name was Johnson (I don't know if that is his first name of family name. Yes, that makes it even more difficult)

2) He had a Swedish passport

3)He had official papers, that said he was a Swedish Captain for
international shipping.

4)Around 1970 he was about 61, 62 and he spent his days in the harbour of Valencia, waiting to become 65 and return home = Sweden.
Anyhow, he never worked as a captain after 1971, and probaqbly not after 1968. He was an alcoholic these days.

5) So he must have been born between 1905 and 1910 in Sweden.


Of course, he'll be dead now for many years.
Maybe I can trace the place where he's burried.
Maybe he has some family, because I could tell them remarkable things about him.

Could you help mé tracing hím, in your archives?

If you could help me with a digital adress, where I could go on with my search, I would be very happy.

You are the first one, that I write about this.

Hope to hear from you soon.

Alfredo, Amsterdam, The Netherlands.

End of e-mail.



Dear Sir 2003, may 6

Our register at the Swedish Maritime Administration only contains seamen
that have been working recently. The register of people that have been
working on board swedish ships, both captains and others, before 1984 is
kept by an official archive with the adress:

Landsarkivet i Göteborg
Box……..
400 12 Göteborg

Telefon:
Fax:
E-mail:

It might however be difficult for them to find him since you have only his
family name and no birthdate, nor any name of a swedish ship he had been on.
Unfortunately Johnson is a very common swedish name, and there is no special register for captains that I know of.
If they find him, you might get some information, but not everything you want to know, but you might then know enough to be able to go on searching in other swedish registers, like the taxation register.

Yours sincerely
Cecilia Lönnqvist.

End of e-mail.


2003 may 13

Dear Sir,

We are in receipt of your letter regarding genealogical research about
Swedish Captain Johnson

The information given in your letter as a starting point for research is not sufficient. The unit of registration in Sweden is the church. Thus, in order to find any notes in the church records about the person mentioned in your letter, we have to know the exact birth date and birth place, or some other exact information regarding this person.
In the register of captains and seaman, who have been working on board Swedish ships, we have to know the name of the ship.
Johnson/Johansson/Jansson is a very common name in Sweden.

Your faithfully
Annette Joelsson
On behalf of Director

Landsarkivet i Göteborg
Box……
S-400 12 Göteborg
Sweden

End of e-mail


To Annette Joelsson, may 28, 2003
Landsarkivet, Goteborg, Sweden.

Dear Madam,

Today I received your e-mail.

Thanks very much for your detailed reply.
I understand, that you will need much more exact information about birth and death, to give me ány chance of finding out the whereabouts of "Johnson the Captain".
And as you can imagine, I regrettably do not have these details.

So the conclusion must be, that it is here, that my search has runned ashore.
Still I am somewhat satisfied, for I gave it a very serious try.
Memories of friendship have also been affirmed by it.
And what is life without friendships?

And I will keep the e-mails as a memory about that search.

I want to thank you, miss Joelsson, that you did take it seriously.

And as a last request, I'd like to ask you something else.

In the appendix of this e-mail, you find a worddocument, which is an "over all memory".
It gives a small impression about our lives there, in the Port of Valencia in 1970/1971. It is a long time ago. Franco was still the ruler of Spain.


Please - if possible - give this document a place, somewhere in a relevant archive about Swedish Captains.

And again, I want to thank you for your serious respond.

I say goodby to you, aswell as to the old captain who will have died many years ago.

Yours sincerely,

Alfredo, Amsterdam, The netherlands.


End of the e-mail.

It is about 1970 and as a loner of twenty years old I HAD already roamed Western Europe for a while. Finally, I made a passionate plan to go to Israël to serve IN the army, (although I'm not Jewish), because of what I had been told about World War Two, In my head it would be the first real destination of my life.

But hitchhiking isn't that easy if you want to go to the Middle East, not even for me in those days, so a free boat-ride from Spain seemed like a clever plan of action.

I eventually ended up in Valencia, and rather quickly I found the harbour area. That same afternoon I got to know a vagabond (not wanting to use the word tramp), who spoke English rather well. Day and night, he had already lived at the harbour of Valencia, for several years. Johnson was his name.

Johnson had been a captain OF several ships and was finally stranded here in Valencia where he was waiting until he reached 65. Here he could survive in the mild Mediterranean climate. At the age of 65 he wanted to return to his homeland, Sweden, where he could live on his retirement pay.

Soon we became friends, and Johnson showed me the whole harbour area. He told me that because of his captain's papers he was "allowed" to enter ships and that he would take me with him to the ships to arrange some food for us in the kitchens. I remember one of his survival tips - "If you get food in one of those kitchens, accept food like chicken soup and not steaks 'cause then you only waste your time by chewing". It sounded like real wisdom and somewhow it was, and my confidence was built up by this big* seaman.

In the evening of that same day he enthusiastically came up to me and told me he'd discovered a ship that would departure the next day to Israël and that I could join them. He had arranged it all!

"So let's have a party, Alfredo", he said, "and let's buy some rum! Do buy some for both of us in the store over there, okay?!".
"Okay, I'll get a big bottle of white Bacardi" I replied, and was glad that finally a plan of mine had succeeded and I gladly bought white rum WITH my last pesetas. Yes, it was time for a party and that evening we both sat on the street, leaning against a wall, drinking Bacardi. As the hours passed by, some of his fellow Spanish outcasts joined us.
Finally all of us fell asleep and the Mediterranean night shielded us.+

In the morning I kicked the big body of Johnson awake - whom I had found two streets further away - so that he could introduce me TO the ship that would bring me to my promised land.
"I'm sorry, Alfredo, but there is no ship that sails to Israël. None." he confessed.
That was a serious setback and I went to the harbour on my own, but after a few hours we had already both continued our combined streetlife, and in the weeks to come we became real comrades.

I got to know people that lived in ruins on there own, or with a wife and children for whom they cared with great love. Sometimes we made plans to earn some money.

Almost every evening - around seven - we all met close to the ruins, including Johnson and me, and everybody put something eatable ON a sheet of iron that lay on a fire they'd made. And there was always someone who had arranged a big bottle of very cheap wine. They were all Spaniards who belonged to the poorest of them all.

Despite that, I was welcome to share their food and wine and after a while I sometimes could bring some of my own.
ON a rare occasion I slept ín their ruins on the ground, between their beds, but that wasn't such a success because of their sexual advances in the dead of night. I'd run away to the beach.

Johnson and I became inseparable those weeks, but just because of that, I unconsciously must have felt there had to be paid off an old score. One night Johnson invited me to join him in a visit to a real fisherman's bar which was related to the fish auction. It was a real late-night bar that was open from two in the morning till about seven o'clock.
It was very full and smoky, I remember. Even for me. Inside, Johnson and I went our own ways, because he knew so many people.

I ordered one glass of wine after another on my account, and I was having a good time, whatever I did. At the break of dawn I finally sneaked my way out without paying anything, in search for a sleep at the beach of Valencia.

Now it was mý turn to be kicked awake by someone, who appeared to be Johnson of course,"because as long as you don't pay your bill over there, I'm not allowed to enter that bar anymore!!", he said with a real angry and desparate face.

But also in that evening of that same day, we all ate and drank together,close to the ruins.

After a few weeks I suddenly left Valencia unannounced.
That must have been my way of leaving, and I went to search for my future in the deep South of Spain.

So now - in this Journal, 30 years later - time has come, to speak the unspoken:

"Dear Johnson,

You were like a father to me and I carry that time of ours in Valencia as a beloved memory in my heart.
You most probably have been dead now for many years, as it is more than 30 years ago, but my memory of you and us will survive.

Cheers, sailor!"


Alfredo, in the harbour of Amsterdam , 2002

P.S. The G2G2 link is F70478?thread=208616






big* - it would be more accurate to give another description, for example, tall, burly, heavy - depending on the height and build of the person.

shielded us+ - you could add `shielded us from the cold', perhaps?

Well, I'm really moved by your participation.
By nature as well as history, I am more and less a loner who continuously supports himself.
A little help from an unexpected friend feels great, especially because storytelling has become an important part of my life and maybe it is one of my contributions to our lives at this planet.

I first did rewrite the words "protected us" into "protected us against the cold and loneliness", but finally I kept it unchanged.
While one is roaming somewhere, life is confusing and emotions likewise.
One can feel protection, while one cannot point at it what exactly it is protecting. Besides, it changes continuously.
I'm writing this to share some street wisdom as far as I can recollect.

In my own language I think I could describe it and it might even become a hard core moment in the story.


Thanks for your support. It is always useful, because it is confronting and that’s a very good thing.



Johnson the Captain.


"It is about 1970 and as a loner of twenty years old I HAD already roamed Western Europe for a while. Finally, I made a passionate plan to go to Israël to serve in the army, (although I'm not Jewish), because of what I had been told about World War Two, In my head it would be the first real destination of my life.

But hitchhiking isn't that easy if you want to go to the Middle East, not even for me in those days, so a free boat-ride from Spain seemed like a clever plan of action.

I eventually ended up in Valencia, and rather quickly I found the harbour area. That same afternoon I got to know a vagabond (not wanting to use the word tramp), who spoke English rather well. Day and night, he had already lived at the harbour of Valencia, for several years. Johnson was his name.

Johnson had been a captain OF several ships and was finally stranded here in Valencia where he was waiting until he reached 65. Here he could survive in the mild Mediterranean climate. At the age of 65 he wanted to return to his homeland, Sweden, where he could live on his retirement pay.

Soon we became friends, and Johnson showed me the whole harbour area. He told me that because of his captain's papers he was "allowed" to enter ships and that he would take me with him to the ships to arrange some food for us in the kitchens. I remember one of his survival tips - "If you get food in one of those kitchens, accept food like chicken soup and not steaks 'cause then you only waste your time by chewing". It sounded like real wisdom and somewhow it was, and my confidence was built up by this heavy seaman.

In the evening of that same day he enthusiastically came up to me and told me he'd discovered a ship that would departure the next day to Israël and that I could join them. He had arranged it all!

"So let's have a party, Alfredo", he said, "and let's buy some rum! Do buy some for both of us in the store over there, okay?!".
"Okay, I'll get a big bottle of white Bacardi" I replied, and was glad that finally a plan of mine had succeeded and I gladly bought white rum with my last pesetas. Yes, it was time for a party and that evening we both sat on the street, leaning against a wall, drinking Bacardi. As the hours passed by, some of his fellow Spanish outcasts joined us.
Finally all of us fell asleep and the Mediterranean night shielded us from cold and loneliness.

In the morning I kicked the big body of Johnson awake - whom I had found two streets further away - so that he could introduce me to the ship that would bring me to my promised land.
"I'm sorry, Alfredo, but there is no ship that sails to Israël. None." he confessed.
That was a serious setback and I went to the harbour on my own, but after a few hours we had already both continued our combined streetlife, and in the weeks to come we became real comrades.

I got to know people that lived in ruins on there own, or with a wife and children for whom they cared with great love. Sometimes we made plans to earn some money.

Almost every evening - around seven - we all met close to the ruins, including Johnson and me, and everybody put something eatable ON a sheet of iron that lay on a fire they'd made. And there was always someone who had arranged a big bottle of very cheap wine. They were all Spaniards who belonged to the poorest of them all.

Despite that, I was welcome to share their food and wine and after a while I sometimes could bring some of my own.
on a rare occasion I slept ín their ruins on the ground, between their beds, but that wasn't such a success because of their sexual advances in the dead of night. I'd run away to the beach.

Johnson and I became inseparable those weeks, but just because of that, I unconsciously must have felt there had to be paid off an old score. One night Johnson invited me to join him in a visit to a real fisherman's bar which was related to the fish auction. It was a real late-night bar that was open from two in the morning till about seven o'clock.
It was very full and smoky,I remember. Even for me. Inside, Johnson and I went our own ways, because he knew so many people.

I ordered one glass of wine after another on my account, and I was having a good time, whatever I did. At the break of dawn I finally sneaked my way out without paying anything, in search for a sleep at the beach of Valencia.

Now it was mý turn to be kicked awake by someone, who appeared to be Johnson of course,"because as long as you don't pay your bill over there, I'm not allowed to enter that bar anymore!!", he said with a real angry and desparate face.

But also in that evening of that same day, we all ate and drank together,close to the ruins.

After a few weeks I suddenly left Valencia unannounced.
That must have been my way of leaving, and I went to search for my future in the deep South of Spain.

So now - in this Journal, 30 years later - time has come, to speak the unspoken:

"Dear Johnson,

You were like a father to me and I carry that time of ours in Valencia as a beloved memory in my heart.
You most probably have been dead now for many years, as it is more than 30 years ago, but my memory of you and us will survive.

Cheers, sailor!"


Alfredo, in the harbour of Amsterdam , 2002

P.S. The G2G2 link is F70478?thread=208616

Alfredo, thank you for the thanks.

I often prefer editing other people's writing than reading my own, but I have a page at www.writerscafe.org and if you join there you can get more comments and support, if that is what you would like. There are some very sensitive, helpful people there, with a good community spirit.

Enhorabuena

Thánk for your reply.

I'll surely have a look at that interesting link.


Greetings from Amsterdam,

Alfredi

I've seen it. It's about the same I already join somewhere else. Iwill not join them for a long time. Why? Because I don't feel I'm a writer. I am a storyteller who uses a laptop i.s.o. his mouth. My writing = talking. That is very different. What I would like to know is something I am searching for a couples of years; 1) I often change present time and passed time and it feels not good to do so. I'd like to know the ins and outs of that item. 2) I also often change from "I' into "alfredo/he" and the same I would like to know about that item. That's not a question to you, but just explaining. I know I make also other mistakes, but these I don't mind. Finally I ask you - any time in the future, to check the story;http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/alabaster/F134334?thread=304455 because then I do have a triology about my roaming Spain and can burn it at CD. Not selling, just sharing, like my pictures at http://public.fotki.com/Mudhooks/gallery_42/h2g2_friends_art_album/