by R. A. Lang
December was a great time to be in Paris and I was just a half hour walk across a park to La Défense where there was a well-organised ganised street market specially for the month, just outside a large shopping complex.
I will never forget the New Year’s Eve, which I had with my new friends whilst enjoying Paris. The event started by meeting at noon at the local restaurant which was next to my hotel. We had lunch, which turned into dinner, and then we ended up in somebody’s apartment deep in the heart of Paris. We finally battled through the traffic and arrived at the Millionaire’s Club on the Champs Élysées hoping to enter the club just before midnight.
Paris isn’t the easiest place to park and we couldn’t find anywhere to leave the car, so we pulled up onto the pavement just before midnight. My friend, who was driving, opened the boot of his car and produced a bottle of champagne and some flutes. A police officer came over to us and told my friend that he’d have to move his car because it was illegally parked. After giving the officer a flute of champagne, he allowed us to leave the car where it was. He said he’d keep an eye on it, so off we went to try to get into the club.
I wasn’t prepared for such a place and was wearing white training shoes, blue jeans, and a red Welsh rugby shirt so I was stopped at the door and asked whether I had anything more appropriate to wear. I said, “No,” and the girl at the door went inside to ask her manager whether I could enter. She returned a minute later and said, “No problem … as long as you buy a litre of Blue Label Vodka at 380 euros per bottle.” After agreeing to the crazy price, we were escorted to a table next to the dance floor, which was just perfect.
Wow, what a place! I thought. There were Russian women everywhere and just a few Frenchmen, all in evening dress. They couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw me dressed so casually. After an hour, the Russian women couldn’t hold back any longer and wanted to know who I was to be able to enter dressed in such a way. First, one lady approached me and asked if I wanted a dance, which I readily agreed to. In no time at all, I had over a dozen women dancing with me in the centre of the dance floor.
There were very keen to know who I was and kept asking me question after question which I avoided answering to just play along. After a while I asked them whether they’d seen me on TV before, to which they all replied that they hadn’t.
I continued having fun with them until I had almost all of them dancing with me at the same time. By the time we left the club, it was already daylight and time to find somewhere for breakfast. In the daylight, I could see countless telephone numbers written all over my arms using eyeliner, lipstick and pens.
It’s amazing what reaction you get when you tell Russian ladies that you own a Paris nightclub!
Chapter 15
Tunisia
In March of 2005, I found myself working on a gas plant in Tunisia. This was a big difference to working in Europe and also a welcome change of scenery. Up until that time, the journey was the most fragmented one I’d needed to make. From flying out of Cardiff in South Wales, I needed to change flights in Schiphol, Amsterdam and again in Charles de Gaul airport, Paris, to arrive in Tunis. From Tunis I’d need to wait for a further three hours before taking a four hour train ride east to Sfax, where I’d meet a company driver to take me to the desert camp, another forty minute drive away.
The camp was very well organised and ideal for a desert base. There were tennis courts, a squash court, swimming pool and clubhouse. The camp shop had all the usual items one needed for the six week trips so it wasn’t any kind of hardship, being based there. I enjoyed cooking in those days so I’d make a regular early morning trip to Sfax every Saturday to buy fresh seafood as the fishing boats unloaded their catch. My cooking was soon discovered by my colleagues; especially my curries, chillies and prawn dishes. One night I cooked for everyone, which took me three days to prepare for, and it went down very well.
The gas plant had been built twelve years previously, so all I had to do was set up a documented quality management system that the company would hold contractors against during planned maintenance and shut down operations. The contractors didn’t have their own procedures at that time, so they would need to follow the ones I’d prepared.
Because the company received its gas from its own offshore platform out in the Mediterranean Sea, just a twenty-five minute helicopter trip away, I needed to obtain my offshore survival certificate to visit it legally. The closest place that offered the course was Malta, so I arranged to make good use of my time and go to Malta on my next rotational leave.
It was July, a very hot and humid time of year to be in Malta. The Maltese were very hospitable, and my weeklong visit went too fast for my liking. The survival course was conducted on a large training facility near an old Second World War air base. It was ideal for training purposes and very well organised. Its own minibus collected me from my hotel early every morning, which made things even easier.
Because it was an international training facility, there were several nationalities taking the course. Among us were three West Africans who made everyone’s day particularly interesting. They were attending so they could work offshore somewhere off West Africa, but none of them understood a single word of English.
The course syllabus had to fully comply with international requirements for offshore survival training, and it included as much theory as practice. Part of the classroom practice entailed basic life saving techniques, including cardio pulmonary resuscitation for accident victims. Each of us needed to demonstrate competency by using a dummy called ‘little Annie’. The doll was developed by a businessman who lost his young daughter in a yachting accident, as he couldn’t save her from drowning.
To maintain the coursework schedule, all the English-speaking attendees went first as more time was required for the non-English speakers. After two of the West Africans completed the test, the last prepared to demonstrate his competency at administering artificial respiration. He remembered the sequence, but he didn’t know when to stop.
The instructor motioned to him several times that he could stop and return to his desk, but he continued for some reason. Again, the instructor asked him to stop, but still he continued, as he wanted to save the dummy’s life. After the instructor repeated himself several times, he left him alone to continue, which he did for yet another hour.
After lunch, we received practical fire-fighting training, and we were taken to the changing rooms to dress in coveralls and rubber boots. Once dressed, we noticed that the same African was missing. The centre was alerted and searched, but to no avail.
He couldn’t be found anywhere. As a last resort, the centre took their minibus out and found him walking down the main road about a mile from the training centre. He was looking for a new life and new career out of Africa.
Back in Tunisia, and for a weekly break from the desert life, I took the chartered helicopter to the offshore platform early every Monday morning to check out the ongoing quality and maintenance activities.
Hydrogen sulphide is the main danger working in the hydrocarbon industry both on and offshore, and one had to carry an emergency breathing kit everywhere outside the accommodation module. For safety reasons, the accommodation module was a separate platform adjacent from the main platform, connected by a bridge.
Should the main platform catch on fire, staff would be evacuated from the accommodation module instead, where the helicopter deck was situated. These emergency breathing kits were heavy and cumbersome units in those days, and certainly not comfortable whilst carrying them over one’s shoulder. They simply comprised a steel compressed air tank and facemask. In an emergency, one would first fit their own mask before assisting anyone else with theirs, and proceed as quickly as possible to the muster point on the accommodation module to be accounted for and evacuated.
Up until that time I’d never really been one for routine work on ready-built installations, so I began to explore younger projects with more activities to control.
I
n December of 2005 I joined a new project, which was based in Seoul, South Korea, which was still in its front-end engineering design phase for a new challenge to design, procure and build a new refinery in Ras Laffan, Qatar.
Chapter 16
South Korea, China, Japan, Singapore, Indonesia, Dubai, Qatar
After working closely with Koreans in Pakistan, guys who were always happy to share their kim chi with me, I saw the move to South Korea as the perfect opportunity to see the country where that dish originated and eat myself healthy.
Kim chi is made by soaking Napa cabbage in salt water for a few hours to dehydrate it, and then after washing it, it is mixed with a large amount of finely grated ginger, garlic, and chopped onions. Then it is all mixed thoroughly together with ground Korean chilli flakes and left at room temperature for a day, before refrigerating it for three more days.
The smell of kim chi doesn’t appeal to all foreigners, but with its strong anti-oxidants and ability to remove toxins from the body, it is ranked as one of the top five healthiest foods in the world. There are hundreds of variations of kim chi and I enjoyed trying different the types whenever I had the opportunity. While living in South Korea, there were plenty of opportunities everywhere and I ate it all the time. I actually lost eight kilos in just three months due to a diet of kim chi and plain boiled rice.
As the kim chi was removing all the toxins I’d built up in my body over the years, I began to feel fitter and more awake than ever before.
The project in South Korea was still in the engineering and procurement phase. Consequently, I had to fly all over the world to visit vendors to conduct pre-contract award audits, kick-off and pre-inspection meetings, and factory acceptance tests. I clocked up over 500,000 air miles with one airline and another 90,000 with an Asian airline at the expense of three forty-eight-page passports in the first nine months. Every month, I went back to Japan, sometimes revisiting a manufacturer, and other times going somewhere new.
On one visit to Japan, I took the opportunity to visit an ancient Japanese castle that once had an army of three thousand women.
In the year of 2006 I visited China nine times. I also used to visit other places like Thailand, Singapore, Dubai and Indonesia, every month. Other places included Italy and Qatar.
My first visit to China entailed conducting a pre-contract award audit to assess the company’s ability to fabricate structural steelwork. As I was originally a plater and had served a full apprenticeship in a similar fabrication facility, I was looking forward to the visit.
I flew from Incheon airport, an hour drive outside Seoul, for the short fifty minute flight across the Bohai Sea on the north-eastern coast of mainland China to a city called Yantai, in the Shandong province, on a very cold February morning. The original name of Yantai came from lookout towers constructed on Mount Qi in 1398, during the reign of the Hongwu Emperor who was the founder emperor of the Ming Dynasty. ‘Yan’ means smoke in Chinese and ‘tai’ means tower. The smoke towers were built to serve as lookout towers to warn against Japanese pirates.
Everything was fine until we were about to touch down on the Chinese runway. I remember looking at the runway from my window seat expecting to feel the wheels touch its tarmac at any second, when suddenly the pilot put the engines into full thrust and pulled the aircraft up as steeply as it could go. What an adrenalin buzz that gave; we were going ballistic. I had a faint suspicion as to what was going on, but didn’t want to think about it while I was still in the air.
The pilot continued flying deeper into China for another fifteen minutes before making a turn to return back to where we’d almost landed. The second attempt went fine and as we pulled up outside the terminal, I could see a Chinese lady dressed in uniform bow to the aircraft as it came to a stop.
Once inside the terminal building, I took a minute to ask an airport representative if they knew anything with regard to why my flight had aborted its first landing attempt. The lady explained in very good English that we were head to head with another flight as it was taking off and we’d flown right over the top of it, just missing its tail, before it left the ground! It reminded me of the flight I decided not to take back in Iran that had a bomb on board. I felt like a cat with several fewer lives.
I was accompanied with one of my main contractor representatives and after completing two different arrival forms and clearing the Chinese immigration we found our driver patiently waiting for us in the arrivals area.
Our first venue was to check in at the pre-booked hotel. As I entered the hotel I was speechless! It was an incredible place and probably the most finely furnished and decorated hotel I’ve ever had the pleasure of staying in. With its highly polished marble floors and huge columns all highly decorated with carvings, I could have spent hours walking around to absorb its full grandeur. The contractor had booked me a corner suite, which again added to the luxury. I had views over the sea and also down along the coast.
When I asked my contractor representative why his company had booked a suite in such a lavish hotel, he explained that I’d need somewhere very comfortable to rest after the Chinese hospitality, which would follow later in the day!
After we’d finished checking into the hotel, we left to visit the fabrication company an hour drive away.
That part of China sported the most beautiful scenery. As we drove along a very straight and perfectly flat highway I observed the flowers, which were fully cared for all along the verges on either side. As I arrived at the contractor’s facility I had a very pleasant surprise as I pulled up outside their office. The entire management team were all standing outside the main entrance of the building in a line saluting me with their right hands held to their heads underneath a huge cotton banner with the words ‘Welcome Mr Andy Lang’ printed in very large red letters. I only wish I could include the photo, but my laptop was later stolen in Ghana, West Africa, when I lost almost all my photographic evidence!
My driver had stopped so that my door was lined up with a red carpet for me to walk on, which continued all the way to the main entrance.
The audit began after all the usual introductions in their main meeting room and took only three hours to complete, before moving outside to review their fabrication capabilities. In fact, all seemed to be going very well until they took me for the walkabout to view their fabrication shop and the general layout of their facilities.
I was taken to their ‘laydown yard’ where steel profiles were grouped and stored until required. The set-up was more than impressive as the facility was directly alongside the sea and they had their own quayside for ships to deliver steel anywhere around the world.
I was freezing cold, even though I had prepared for the sub-zero temperature, but not enough. The wind was slicing my throat as we walked around outside their facility until they showed me where they stocked all their materials. There, I saw two Chinese girls standing to attention wearing only very thin, summer style cotton pants and jackets. Was this their winter working uniform? I wondered.
Immediately, I questioned how long the two girls had been standing outside and why they were there, in the middle of nowhere in the freezing cold. I was told that they had been instructed to stand there from the minute I had arrived, three hours before, so I could see that their company had stock controllers in their laydown area. The company didn’t have a contract at the time so there wasn’t any material to control.
I felt totally sickened that the two ladies were subjected to such extreme temperatures on my behalf, and ordered the company director to send the girls back inside to a warm room for the rest of the day, and added that I would later check that they were cared for to ensure their comfort. I explained that my company had very strict health and safety policies, which included any contractor, subcontractor, vendor or supplier, and any violation would result in no purchase order being placed.
I added that it was all part of the pre-contract award audit which I was conducting. The company director said something very fast and
strong in Chinese and one of his guys ran over to the two ladies and together with them, ran back inside their main building. The way the two ladies moved indicated that they were both frozen stiff.
I added that if I had the purchase order awarded, I would visit without any warning from time to time to ensure that conditions had been met. Later, I did visit and all the Chinese employees were sporting well insulated and padded winter clothing.
After all the formalities had taken place, the Chinese hospitality went overboard: they invited me out to their favourite restaurant later the same day. I’m not sure whether the food was meant to impress me or frighten me.
The local restaurant was beautiful, and had a private room with a table large enough to accommodate all fourteen of us. As their honorary guest, each new dish that was brought to the table was spun around until it was directly in front of me, to take the first portion. I like sushi and sashimi, but even I have limits. The Koreans had hardened my appetite by bringing live jellyfish, octopus, and starfish to the table, but the Chinese really stole the show.
One of the dishes consisted of freshly gutted sea cucumber. They gutted it with water still dripping off its hairy skin, and while it was still moving it was a very difficult mouthful, not to mention the white, milky soup with a baby octopus swimming around in it. The method was to slurp back the soup using both hands around the little white bowl until you were able to catch the little octopus in your mouth and crack its head between your teeth. It was not a pleasant experience as its little skinny legs were over my bottom lip while I needed to murder the poor little thing. But what really stole the show was a plate of grilled, black snakeheads. They were crunchy; I almost broke a tooth!