When I was a child my hero was my maternal grandfather. He had sailed the seven seas and rounded the Horn with merchant sailing ships many times. He had tattoos all over his arms. It was like a history book - he pointed at a tattoo and told a story - "this one is from Shanghai when we..., and this one I got after we were ship wrecked outside Halifax...". And so on. It was wonderful. I swore I would get tattoos when I got older.
Many years later (in the eighties) I was in Shanghai and it was time. I had decided not to get the tattoo in Sweden as it would not be as "manly" to tell stories of it to children later... Shanghai it had to be.
I had decided on an oriental dragon clawing and clinging to my shoulder/deltoid. Went to a tattoo parlor and booked a time. Went back the day after. The artist was yellow... Not in an Asian way (is that politically OK to say?)... He had hepatitis. I Fled. I never got a tattoo and then I got too old.
Here is a picture of my grandfather (in the middle). Born in 1898. He later owned his own large ships and also became a boat builder of some local fame. The picture does not show any tattoos but they are there.
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