I’ve been meaning to dedicate an entry to my  friends on the other ship for ages but for some reason, I never found the time to do so on this ship. I keep getting distracted by Crew Bar and Crew Party invitations, Sex and the City reruns, work, and naps. This ship definitely has a more festive ambience than the previous one that I was on, since the next largest nationality onboard is Brazilian, despite the fact that many of them had been transferred to other ships since the Brazilian season was over. These bunch of people are just so easy-going, loud and keen on making things happen that even those from the south of Brazil where apparently people don’t party that much are still friendlier than some of the surly Romanians or Italians. These bright-eyed, quick to smile colleagues who are always free with ther constant volleys of ‘Oi, tudo bem?’ greetings, are hard not to like. Nonetheless, despite such rich flow of enthusiastic energy going around, I still find myself missing the very few people who made last month on my ex-ship wonderful.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m surrounded by great friends here (a few close ones that I’ve spend entire contracts with, on other ships and to my delight, had embarked on this current one) but still, some ties are just so great and intense that they aren’t to be replaced out of convenience or due to changing life circumstances. To live a seafaring lifestyle is difficult but when you find yourself a right group of people, life becomes bearable and sometimes, even the highlight of your life

Here’s to the wonderful cast of MV CF!!!!!

ALE TOSTO (ITALIAN PHOTOGRAPHER)

This man, may be small in stature but his heart is probably the biggest one that I’ve ever known. He’s a non-stop hugs and kisses giver; a companion with a compassionate and loving soul; young in age but mature in spirit and soul; a radiant and wonderful being in whole. Immensely practical and meticulous while classifying species and understanding the biological structures of living beings, he’s not without crazy idiosyncrasies like doing things out of love, dreams and hope. His smiles are so wide that sometimes, it’s hard to be angry or negative when his presence is near. It was easy to talk of the sane and insane matters with him, always wrapped up in swirls of smoke as the conversation wears on. A brilliant photographer both on and off work, he had always inspired me to see the world in different angles through the view finder. He always has this zany yet positive view about the world. You can count on him to play the ‘green man’ or the ‘raptor’ just for kicks and he’d do it, just because it makes us laugh so much. It’s impossible to chill out in Barbedos, or Corfu, or Rhodes Island without Ale because his presence would surely be acutely missed. I know that despite the fact that we’re now apart, we’re going to be seeing each other somewhere, someday again.

ALBERTO ALBICOCA MONTANI (ITALIAN PHOTOGRAPHER)

Alberto deep in reverie

When I first found out that he’s also a fellow writer and reiki practioner, I swear I swept off my feet. It’s hard to imagine that this guy, broody and monosyllabic, with a body of The Incredible Hulk, could be such a soft and shy guy-like a big, fuzzy panda.
As Ale’s right hand and his partner in crime, Alberto’s the spirit while Ale’s the heart of a person. He speaks slowly in halting in English, lacking confidence when speaking in his non-native language…but when constant company breeds familiarity and bottles of rum helps his brain muscles relax, he is always caught spouting philosophy, literature, surf culture and random nonsense. I’ve always seen him as the Italian Kerouac, dark, intense and sometimes a little crazy….like me, he is inherently a gypsy yet one who’s fiercely loyal and kind…He also has a way with words (in Italian) and waves, an open brilliant mind and a great poet (if only my Italian vocab is extensive enough to understand the depths of his verses). Together, we’d hung out till the wee hours of the morning, with Ale, talking about nothing at all, with my teeth chattering in the cold, under the stars, while the ship sped to its next port of call. Lying on the deck chairs, after another monotonous crew party, we found ourselves contemplating the past, present and the future. And somehow, sometimes, even without talking too much, I know that he’d just understand the very essence of me. It’s a shame that we’d only just hung out more than usual a month before I left but still, those moments will burn forever in my memory.

Alberto out for a surf

ANGY aka THE CHINESE (CHINESE CHILDREN COUNSELLOR)

Angy swinging with joy

Angy’s not the typical Chinese when it comes to socializing. Brash, funny and loquacious, while she may not be able to roll her ‘R’s properly or calls Alberto, Ubeto, she still speaks a smattering of other languages like conversational Italian, German and English. She was mainly my ‘Asian sister’ where you can never see her, without me and vice-versa. Unlike our European colleagues, we’re more straight-forward and honest with each other. Our friendship is strong and without frills. We’re fiercely devoted to surviving on the ship–together. Whilst, we weren’t on our first contracts (on the MV CF), we had  perpetually struggled with the hostility of colleagues and environment yet when we cheered each other up when the other was low, or encouraged, cajoled and convinced one another that there was much to be grateful about, our time on the ship became more bearable. And just when we were about to give up on meeting other people, Ale and Alberto appeared in our social circle.

Thank you guys for such a wonderful time! Without you, I’d have never dared jumped into the freezing waters of Corfu and Rhodes Island, or got drunk on Retzina, or stayed up all night to finish that tattoo design, or found the courage to write again, or found the desire to sketch, or rediscovered my enthusiasm to explore and so much more.

Kisses to all of you. Spread your love and light around, people.

Apologies

It has been a while since I’ve last updated my blog. It’s certainly not an easy task when the wireless internet onboard doesn’t come cheap. It’s 24 Euros for 3 hours or 0.25 Euros per minute. If you do the math, most of the crew members usually spend up to 150-200 Euros a month on the wi-fi, usually for short emails and the occasional Facebook updates. Thankfully for my position, I have an allowance of 200 Euros a month on internet but still, it just means 24 hours of free internet. That’s not much is it. I could easily use 24 hours of internet within 2 days.

The first few months

I must admit that the first few months on this ship has been full of strife and struggle. I was angry at myself for agreeing to another contract on the ship even though I know perfectly that my relationship with Nick will suffer in the process. Not just that, I also knew that I’m now beyond the drinking parties, the transient friendships and the see-as-many-places-as-you-can mentality. In short, I had absolutely no reason to come back to the ship if not for my financial situation. After the Balkans escapade, I was left with utterly nothing so it was difficult to say no to a new contract and a pay raise. Like an addict, I said to myself, “Just one last time and then, basta!”

Doing the job well was not difficult at all. In fact, I was often bored with the whole process. There were many tedious moments where I was holed up in the office, doing paperwork than teaching. Having said that, it’s a position that garnered many privileges that many other crew members would die for like drinks and internet allowance, my own office and a rather flexible schedule.

But it no longer was the dream job anymore. I was tired of seeing so many cities and countries within such a short period of time and despite the excellent paycheck, there was really nothing to look forward to. The job didn’t require any of my creative or intellectual skills at all. For a while, my mind was a block of ice, waiting to be thawed.

I also work alone and other than my students, I hardly had the chance to mingle. As I don’t belong to any specific department onboard, I had no fellow colleagues to jibe with or sit next to during meal times. My position was higher than most staff and crew members but lower than an Officer’s. In short, people either view me suspiciously, fearfully or just with disinterest.

As I’m a very people oriented person, such circumstances made me feel very detached from the world and myself. My emotions swung like a pendulum, depending on the situation. There were times where loneliness hit me like a brick and hopelessness hovered heavily above. There were brief rays of sunlight too but very rarely. Nick and I broke up after a long series of failed communication and widening distance. There was a gulf between our physical locations and our hearts.

The last few months

I was just spiraling downwards so quickly that I didn’t know I hit rock bottom. Once at the bottom, I realized how much I’ve suffered because I’ve put so much on the external, on my life situation. I’ve forgotten that to be in control of my life is to be in control of my being, of the divine within. So I stopped looking out and started looking in. As the ship docked in Fort Lauderdale, USA, every Sunday, I purchased books over Amazon.com to keep my loneliness at bay. I refused to waste my time, feeling sorry for myself just because life didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to.

I regained my passion for writing after excavating some old but lovely memories of my writing adventures when I was little. I had always been a writer since I had more books than toys those days. I’ve written and illustrated volumes of short stories and plays and had my childish poetry and articles published in the local newspaper. I even won some slogan writing competitions because I thought that would impress the socks off my parents. But this love for writing became conditional as I grew up. Stories don’t sell, my dad would say, and hence, why waste time writing them? Go be a journalist or something. Do something more practical. With that sort of advice, I became a cowardly writer but with perfectionism as an excuse. I wouldn’t allow myself to write badly. I wouldn’t write anything that doesn’t sell. I wouldn’t write if I haven’t got a muse to sprinkle the magic dust over me. In short, I stopped writing and went on to do other more important things in life.

Now with time in my hands and to have nothing else to live for, I dove back into writing. I started a writing journal, pushed myself to enter a short story competition, read a lot, looked into grad schools for MFA, bought myself a creative writing textbook and start the whole damn process again: to learn how to write.

I also enjoyed drawing comics for friends (I eventually met a number of people that I grew close to) and making them laugh with the posters and photo montages. To my surprise, I’m actually quite good at it! I’m not going to make a living out of sketching but being able to create something just stimulates the artist in me again.

Meditation also helps alleviate the despair and negative energy. I was so resistant towards life. I was fighting against it, condemning myself for the wrong choices that I’ve made and indulged in misery. You wouldn’t believe it if I tell you that choosing to suffer was a choice and I don’t know why I do it. It could be because I thought, by suffering, I’m able to brace myself for more unwanted life situations. It was easier to be unhappy than to be aware. And in an unhappy state, I attracted more unhappy people and unpleasant situations.

Then, I started it’s time to discipline my mind and balance my spirit again. Being unhappy no longer works. The dramas and conflicts created to strengthen my ego became boring. I was eager to get out of the rut. So I practiced Vipassana (mindfulness) and Metta (Loving-Kindness) meditation as often as I can. Using several guided audio meditation by the Insight Meditation Center (from the US), I meditated initially for 10 minutes and then 20..etc. It was blissful to just have a clear mind within that space of time. I could feel my own spirit again and its strength. Slowly but surely, but not always, my emotions improved and I became sunnier. And with clarity and focus, I could ask myself honest questions about what I want out of life. I also attracted some good friends who later helped made the last month of my contract a worthwhile memory.

So, with newly a clear mind and a loving heart, abundance in life was restored. It wasn’t rosy all the time but at least the setbacks were easier to bear. There were still periods of apathy, sloth, self-pity and uninspiring moments but now I learned to look within to cope with my life situation instead of the other way around.

What happens next

I’ll be leaving this ship for another ship on the 27^th of April. I’ll have to start packing soon but at least this time round, I’ll leave with somewhat a heavy but resolved heart. I’ve made some really good friends, seen some really fascinating places, done a number of crazy things and most importantly, learned all the lessons that I was meant to learn on this ship. Perhaps that’s why life has nudged me into taking this contract. It’s because I wasn’t done learning before. Now that I have, I’m ready for some other experiences that life has to offer.

Nikolas Beach, Rhodes Island-enjoying my last Greek Islands exeprience

Ultimately, we all reach a certain point in our lives where we’d stop for a bit, ruminate about the future, reflect on the past and then, choose the best route for the present. This year is THAT year, where every decision has to be made with a lot of care and precision, because once made, a new set of possibilities will follow, whether I like it or not, and I’ve to live them all until another fork in the road of life appears again.

I must admit, I have really lived it up. I’ve seen plenty of places, done many things, experienced what it was like to be poor and rich, let wanderlust run its course and have literally covered from the skies to the seas. I don’t regret the experiences, not for even an iota. In fact, I’m grateful for them for they have strengthened my spirit and made me grow up. I’ve learnt to see my own weaknesses and strengths during times of solitude and hardships. I’m always surprised to discover my capacity to endure and go on, despite perpetual blows and rejection. I’ve learnt the value of money, independence and love, and to peel away the layers of ignorance and illusion.

But then, what now?

Many travelers and couchsurfers that I’ve met, upon finishing their life-altering journeys, are often found back in their countries, doing the same things that they’ve always been doing, be it that corporate job that they’ve given up right after they sold properties and reduced their lives to a backpack, or to pursue another qualification, to get married and have kids, etc. Does that mean that other than accumulating perspectives and worldly wisdom, we don’t actually change much? Is long-term traveling over-rated then?

Dearest Su Kon,

It is my biggest regret, as your only aunt, not being able to watch you grow, not being there to cheer when you utter your first syllables nor to watch you take your first steps. I won’t be able to stand with your mum, dad and grandmother to celebrate those many other precious moments of your ‘firsts’ because I’m still suffering a serious case of wanderlust. Despite my recent desire to settle, get married and produce cousins who can become your playmates, I still have to ultimately find the ‘One’, to find the job that I truly enjoy doing (in other words, I don’t have to wake up every morning and feel like I’ve to drag herself to work) and to save enough money so that I can continue to pursue what I believe is right, honest and enriching. The pursuit of happiness is a challenging one because you’ve to learn to distinguish which ideas of happiness are of your own and which are dogmatic ideas, fed to you by the media. When you are measured against other people’s ideas of success, you may find yourself short and may consider yourself a failure even when you’re not to blame.

Now, what do you think your aunt does? Well, the reason why I’m away so much is because I now work on cruise ships. The length of my contract varies-sometimes it’s six, sometimes it’s eight. While I’m away, I think of you and your family all the time. I hold the position of a Crew Lecturer. I teach English as a Foreign Language to crew members, mainly the hospitality personnel and Deck Officers. On top of that, I also have to train those on their first contracts about the company and its values and mission. There are also several other projects that eat up my time, but because the nature of the projects are laughable, I won’t divulge the information.

The current ship that I work on is considered one of the larger ships in the fleet. It can carry up to 4400 people, both passengers and crew members and its maximum cruising speed is 24 knots. It was built in a Genovese shipyard, in 2003. The interior is rather kitschy (in my opinion!), full of gaudy colors and golden arcs, unlike the company’s older ships, which tend to sport more complimentary colors and classical designs.

We are about the finish the West and East Caribbean season. The ship calls at Nassau, Grand Turk, Grand Cayman, St Thomas, San Juan, Cozumel, Ochos Rios and Fort Lauderdale. I don’t have a particular preference for any of these port of calls as they are teeming with duty-free shops like Diamonds International and nasty touristy hang-outs like Magaritaville and Senor Frogs where rich and fat tourists love chugging a beer down at.

Having said that, if you’re a beach lover like your father, you may be enjoy the beaches in places like Grand Turk, Grand Cayman and St Thomas, where you’d find warm water of blue and emerald, sandy white beaches and palm fronds. Unfortunately, you may also find the rest of the cruise ship passengers with you there.

My friends and I, once took the bicycles and cycled around Cozumel. The stretch of coast is really pretty and wild. It is also full of shops and boutiques but we pay them no heed. Usually, after all that cycling, we go to a bar called the No Name Bar that has a rather apt tagline below it’s name: Don’t Screw With the Crew. It’s divided into several areas that offers wireless internet, a pool, a pool bar, a café, a cigar bar and the lot. It’s also built along the ocean so you can wade out into the salty water from the steps. Crew members from every other ship hang out there as well-some friendly, some not. It’s quite a cool place.

Somewhere in mid-April, I’ll be transferred to another ship which is a sister ship to the current one that I’m on. It will at first sail around the Mediterranean seas and then after, sail towards the Baltic cities like St. Petersburg, Helsinki, Stockholm, Riga, etc and then all the way up to the North Cape. I’ll have a chance to visit the fjords at the most Northern parts of Norway and Iceland, something which I really look forward to. I’ll definitely put my digital SLR to good use and show you the pictures when I get back in July.

I’m sorry that I don’t write very often but know that I’m thinking of you always.

Love,
Ying
Your gypsy aunt

Nithin and I

You can curse your fate and fight against destiny, but sometimes, when you least expect it, the divine conspires and offers you a treat or two, tantalizing you to believe in something bigger than yourself again. Synchronicity works its way to provide you the perfect timing to make certain decisions under some pretty doubtful circumstances but alas, to reap the rewards, patience is absolutely vital.

Outside the Apple Store at the Galleria Mall, I am pacing. I look at my watch every now and then and sigh. They are so late, I mutter. I open my book and read the eight page of Napoleon Hill’s Think & Grow Rich, but I couldn’t concentrate. When restlessness kicks in, I close my book, turn and see a familiar figure that I once used to trade travel and writing tips over a couple of milky hot teas.

“Hello,” he says, his face breaking into a big grin. “It’s so weird to see you. But I swear you were much taller before.”

Two and a half years ago, Nithin, an American Couchsurfer, and I were frequently caught engaged in heated pseudo-intellectual debates, under the umbrellas of street food stalls in Kuala Lumpur. He was part of the rising Couchsurfing cult that comprised of my crazy but well-travelled Malaysian friend, Ed, the Dutch who never quite made it to New Zealand ever since he stepped foot in Malaysia, Stef, fun loving Philadelphia, Matt, and yours truly. We met and said our goodbyes at different corners of South East Asia and did it so many times that I really didn’t remember when was it really the ‘last goodbye’. Our friendship has seen us through various misadventures in Malaysia, Thailand and Cambodia.

Since then, we have always kept in touch. An email every 6 months was pretty common. Last winter, he expressed desire to travel Europe again and asked me if I would still be in London. I shook my head no since by that time, I was expected back on the ship. And then, his plans fell through. This year, he sent me another email asking the same thing but unfortunately, for the very same reasons, I sadly shook my head no. But interestingly, he later wrote to tell me that his girlfriend and him would be doing a road trip to Miami before his planned trip to Europe. And what do you know, I happen to be on a ship that docks at Fort Lauderdale every weekend, which is just a 45-minutes train ride from Miami!
Who would have thought that of all the places, South Florida is the place where we’d see each other again?

Despite the wind and the cold, it was still a nice afternoon. Nithin introduced me to his very friendly girlfriend, who also seem to share his love for literature and travel. We reminisced about the past, reflected about the present and shared our anticipation for the future. I felt myself talking faster than usually, occasionally stumbling on long words, trying to say as much as possible during our brief time together. It was so heartening to connect with another like-minded, what more with one who’s an old friend of yours.

I love serendipitous encounters like this! I know it was a pre-conceived plan but I definitely didn’t choose to be in Fort Lauderdale to see him and neither did he plan to come to Miami to see me either. He and his girlfriend bought the tickets way before they knew that I was going to be there.

Sometimes, life can be quite sweet after all.

PS-Thanks for the book too, Nithin!

30 minutes to counting down, I was at Marco’s cabin, desperately wishing that he would do something that would help reassure me of my fears. But he did not. He said nothing and continued to pluck his acoustic guitar.

“So shall we go up to the pool to join Francesca and Moreno for the countdown?” I asked finally, when I could no longer take the heavy, draggy silence.

“If you want to go, you can. I’m staying here,” Marco said.

“Come with me,” I begged.

“You know how I don’t like small talk and random people,” he said. “But if you want, go. Don’t stay here and be stupid.”

I bit my lip to stop tears from rolling down my cheeks. His curt and insensitive comment had rendered me soulless and powerless to enjoy the night. I wanted him to like me, to understand me-so badly. He was the only person that I could relate to, on the ship. He was interesting, witty, intelligent and talented. It was his love for traditional folk music that drew me to him. I have always got a penchant for surly artists who live a bohemian lifestyle. While Marco was holding down one of the most boring and practical positions on board, a Desktop Publisher, only those close to him know that he’s much more than that.

For the past few weeks, while we have both each other’s company, it was clear that I was the only one, who was trapped in a romantic delusion, thinking that he was more than a friend. The relationship was toxic but addictive. In order to not be alone, I surrender to his cruelty. He used my heart whenever needed but refused to return any forms of genuine affection.
I knew it was dangerous but I was powerless. I couldn’t bear the thought of being alone.

Yet at that moment, when the new year is about to arrive, and no matter how much commercial significance has placed onto that one day, I still wanted to celebrate it with him. But even though he was there, I have never felt so alone in my whole life before.

I have learnt a great lesson from then on. I told myself that I will never let anyone hurt me that way again. I will never scrounge or beg for affection or company if it doesn’t fill me up with happiness. I will let go of relationships that are damaging. True friendship or love should never work that way.

And that’s why, this time round, I was pleasantly enjoying the self-induced solitude on New Year’s eve. I had books for company, the TV (Billboard Countdown was on) for distraction and thoughts of the lovely boyfriend to fill my mind with.

It was enough. It wasn’t thrilling but it was fulfilling in some way. I was finally enjoying me.

It was a navigation day (where the ship cruises across the ocean without stopping) and I had absolutely nothing to do. My morning classes finished even before some passengers were even awake. After running through a list of things I could do but without getting an infraction for, I decided to do my laundry.

Laundry business is the most annoying on the ship, simply because it takes too long to do it. How difficult can it be, you think to yourself. Well, for  ship that houses at least 958 crew members, they only have ONE laundry room with 5-6 washing machines and only 1.5 dryer that actually works. 1 works fine while the other takes 2 hours just to get some underwear hot and crisp. Go figure

I didn’t have much-just a bunch of socks, undergarments, a t-shirt or two and my pajamas (it helps if you wear your uniform at all times). I stepped into the Laundry Room and saw huge, industry strength machines rocking their steel forms off. A bartender was sitting on the huge washing sink, with headphones plugged in as he waited for his laundry. Two others from the Engine department were leaning against the wall, chatting but their eyes watched their washing machines like mothers waiting to punch those who dare touch their children.

The problem with lack of washing machines is, because there are way too much washing to be done but without enough facilities to do it, the natural survival instincts kick in. People with 14 hour work schedules will walk into the Laundry Room, scan for an orphan washing machine, stop it, take out the wet laundry that hasn’t quite finished yet and dump theirs in. Finders, keepers.

Then of course, there’s a mad rush for the dryer too. The same theory applies as well.

So when I walked in, I was lucky enough to find a free laundry machine. Like a rodent who’s found some cheese, I quickly pushed my way through a bunch of people, dumped my clothes in, sprinkled the washing powder over and waited. Thank god, I brought a book with me.

But even as I waited, my eyes scanned predatorily for an available dryer. There was a Philippino guy who was guarding his dryer obsessively but there wasn’t another laundry basket with wet clothes on it.

“Is there anyone waiting for your dryer?” I asked.

“Nope. I’ve got 25 more minutes to go,” he replied.

“Great. When you’re done, let me know.”

And I waited. In this case, patience is indeed a virtue. Or all good things come to those who waits. Whatever.

As the clock ticked, Raquel, an Animator Cruise Staff and her boyfriend walked in. I looked up from my book and said hi.

“No machines free, eh?” her boyfriend said.

“ Dunno. Tough luck.” I said.
I scanned around the room from my little corner to see there was anyone remotely close to having their laundry done….and then I saw it. This petite Philippino girl, who was still wearing her yellow Bar service uniform but with shorts and flip flops were in a midst of sorting her laundry out. She had like a Santa’s sackful worth of dirty clothings which she is now separating and putting into 4 different washing machines. Is that really necessary at all?

No wonder people are pissed off.

After a quick lunch at the ship’s only buffet restaurant (several people have privileges to eat there, including me) I went out to the external decks at Deck 9 to indulge in the panoramic vista of Ochos Rios, Jamaica. It did not disappoint; in fact, it was staggeringly beautiful. In contrast to the shallow pristine waters and gleaming, white sand, dark green mountains jagged behind them. The roads were fringed by tropical trees with large leaves, providing ample shade for anyone who decide to walk. The beach stretched out miles and miles with waters of varying shades of blue.
I contemplated if I should go out. The ship would only be docking there from 12pm to 6pm and I wasn’t too keen to walk out alone. I could already see clusters of mini busses and taxis that guarded the terminal’s gate like vultures waiting to prey. Yet, I didn’t want to stay indoors and pass up on such a beautiful place. My traveller’s instincts kicked in and urged me to ‘check it’ out. Who knows what kind of adventures I might get into? Other than Bob Marley, the infamous yellow, green and white colour anthem and rum, I don’t know anything else about Jamaica or Jamaicans.
Jamaica is one of the most beautiful and culturally rich islands in the world, according to the brochure that I took before leaving the gangway. The third largest island in the Carribean, it is 146 miles long and 51 miles wide. Ochos Rios is supposedly to be the point where eight rivers converge and one of the most natural attractions around the area is Dunn’s River Falls, where you can climb up and bathe in the cascading waters that falls drop 600 feet over their course.
If I were to have time and a group of people with me, I’d definitely have explored the emerald rain forests and its stunning mountainside ride through gorge filled with incredible giant ferns in Fern Valley. One of the insistent taxi drivers told me that he could take me to the waterfalls for 60 USD. No, thank you, sir.
It was a nice day to walk and my mission was to find a beach where I could sit and relax with a book. I spied one that was only about a mile away so I excitedly walked towards where I thought was the start of St. Ann’s Bay, waving away irritating taxi drivers and cat-calling Jamaican man.
But alas, it turned out that it was a closed beach that was owned by some shopping mall. Shop, chill, swim and relax, says the Island Village billboard. Free admission, it boasted yet I don’t know if I like the idea of walking through endless duty-free shops that all seem to sell the same merchandise for about the same approximate price as everywhere else before I get to the tiny strip of water and sand. The place was done up tastefully with shops built into wooden elevated shacks across the sand but I just wasn’t ready to relax at a commercial paradise.
I decided to continue walk to downtown. At some point, the hoards of tourists seem to fade away….and they are replaced by locals in the most colourful apparel, doing last minute shopping in dingy little shops. Shops are tiny and quaint, arranged in a haphazard manner but spilling over with people. Loud music blared. Between local toy shops, a colonial looking Post Office and bars, there were also Baskin Robbins, Hard Rock Café, Burger King and McDonalds to put tourists at ease.
“Lookie, lookie, miss? You want taxi?” A dark, wizened man in a white flannel shirt asked. He grinned as he snapped his fingers at me.
I shook my head no and he leaned close, “Boy friend? Sexy man, you want?”
Laughing, I walked away into the throngs of people.

Then, I suddenly bumped into Fulvio, the Chief Children Animator whom I’ve previously worked alongside with in my previous contract. Boy, was I happy to bump into a familiar face. Fulvio might not be the best friend of earth but we do share a penchant for travelling and exploring together.
“Have you had a Red Stripe yet?” he asked. Nope, what’s that?
Noting my ignorance, he pulled me to a small street bar where smell of fried chicken filled the air. Soon, I found out that this infamous Red Stripe Jamaican lager is clearly not the favourite amongst locals because it was freaking 3USD each! Nonetheless, the air was filled with festivity and I decided not to worry about the price.
As Fulvio bought the first round of beers, we decided to go somewhere else for the next.
We found another open bar at the Taj Mahal shopping area which seemed to be full of people. A seemingly stoned young guy with long dreadlocks offered his table to us. He went away and came back with two bottles of Red Stripe for us. “Drink up! And don’t forget, to fulljoy! You can’t end joy, so you shouldn’t say enjoy…so drink, Merry Christmas and FULLJOY!” Can’t argue with his wisdom so we drank. The sweet lager moistened our throats and minds, as we chatted animatedly. Then, Giuseppe, one of the Receptionists walked past the bar that we were sitting at. I didn’t know him that well but Fulvio seemed to when he shouted and waved to him. I made a hand motion for Giuseppe to join us…as I could see that he was already in doing what we were. In his hand, was a bottle of Red Stripe that’s half-full. After he finished that, we called for another round of beers. Then, two engineers that Fulvio and I recognized walked past. They too joined the merry party.
Just before we left the bar, I noticed a sign that said, “Don’t drink and drive. You may spill your drink.”
The wisdom of Jamaicans have absolutely made my day.

After a late class, I trudged back to my cabin, weary and discontent. The corridor that connects my office (or classroom) to my cabin is a long and grey one, with harsh fluorescent lights glowering above. As I walked, I met Enrique, the Assistant Chief Crew Steward from Philippines, one whom I got fairly acquainted to recently, and told him about one of his staff who was absent for his English lesson. He said he’d talk to the staff involved and find out. Then, I continued walking past the Staff Mess where Staff* eat in a canteen style like dining room, and it was dark. I heard laughter and different voices joining together for a Happy Birthday chorus. I peeked and saw a bunch of people from the Crew department, hanging around and gazing at candles on a birthday cake. At least they seemed happy. I continued walking, till I passed the wide luggage storage area. Exhausted looking men of different colours and sizes, dressed in identical white overalls that spotted grease smears were gathered around the only available foosball table in the area, shouting and cheering. At least, they shared something in common. I kept walking and saw a garbage utility wheeling trash into the garbage room, while another walked out of it and wiped his forehead, the elevator doors sounded and a waiter in his Italian themed uniform walked out and when the three were at crossroads, they acknowledged each other with a shout. The garbage guy caught my eye, smiled, and then looked away shyly. After what deemed like eternity, I found the stairs that leads to my cabin and headed home for the night.

One of the hardest things about living and working on the ship is human isolation. Life onboard gives you no holidays and no overtime benefits. Time offs are rare. You are expected to work and work and work and sometimes, all you crave for is some acknowledgement for your hard work. Unfortunately, pats on the backs are rare. Most of the supervisors have not been coached management techniques hence they don’t quite know how to lavish praise or compliments when it’s appropriate. Even though not many people are aware of it, it is one of the biggest factor why many fall into scandalous or destructive relationships with another colleague or passenger or why there can never be true friendship between a man and a woman unless their respective partners are onboard as well. People onboard are so deprived of sincere human contact that any form of attention could be seen as a potential romantic partner. It doesn’t matter if you told them if you’re married with ten kids in tow. For them, if your entire warbling family is not onboard, you’re technically single and available. In the words of Goej, a Romanian welder, “You need someone onboard to keep you company. That’s why I hang out in the Crew Bar to see if they are any available prey. And then I shoot them down with an arrow of love.” In my first contract, after a short chat with the Crew steward who serves at the Crew Mess where my office was, I got an I-Love-You note, slid through under my office’s door. I thought that was hilarious.

And then, I get invited to drink champagne’s in random acquaintances’ cabins just because I stopped to chat with them. You see, you pay the men some attention, and they automatically assume that you’re interested in them. Men will not automatically jump into such conclusions in the normal world…unless you stalk them down of course.

Another huge reason of isolation is the human resources hierarchy. It’s created to divide people. Under the shipboard personnel chart or even the Crew Lists itself, there is a column for Officers, Staff and Crew. How is Staff different from Crew, I do not know, but perhaps if you look at it with a politically incorrect lens, the Crew seem to make up of the masses poorly paid hardworkers while the Staff make up only 35% of the overall crew members who seem to be make up the elite few (if not taking the Officers into comparison). If you have a chance to look what goes behind the Crew Only doors, you’d notice that people eat in different places…Blue collared workers in the Crew Mess, White Collared workers in the Staff Mess, and the ruling few in the Officer’s Mess.

There is also uniform snobbery and nationality snobbery. If you are wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of navy blue shorts, signifying that you could be the Galley Utility boy or Pool Attendant, then most people would turn up their nose and not even look you in the eye when you walk past. Most officers are usually quite guilty of uniform snobbery…they wear, white pressed shirts and trousers with yellow stripes gracing their shoulders and it seems that, they only make the most noise when they are all together. Funnily, their attempt to intimidate and torment stops right after they take off their uniforms. If you happen to catch them out of the ship, they usually look quite shy, vulnerable and shrouded with poor self-confidence.

Nationality snobbery is the worst of all. Onboard, we have at least 35 different nationalities. It’s like a small safari with many different animals but with very little space to roam around. Hence, the Italians would deem themselves to be the most superior, the Europeans would only talk amongst each other, the Chinese gather in little groups, and so on. If you are lucky, you find hundreds of your ‘paisanos’ who are willing to provide you company, friendship and help if you need it, but if you’re unlucky (like me) then, you’re alone, wondering whether did globalization ever happened. It is rather rare to see a group of people with mixed nationalities hanging out with each other, but when you do see them, you’d also find me there. So generally speaking, if you’re new on the ship and you’re trying to be friendly, the first place to start would be within your own department and if you happen to hate all of them, then you could try to strike up a conversation with a person from your own nationality or at least someone who speaks your mother tongue. If you have neither, again like yours truly, then you’re utterly screwed. The bigger the ship, the less likely you’re going to find someone that you can actually connect with.

However, it’s not just that. Many people work on ships for a great variety of reasons. Some for the money, some for the adventure, some for job security, some for careers. Out of all of that, the rarest kind are those who are onboard for fun… Before I joined the company, I was an avid backpacker. When I got the job, I thought, I was going to meet a huge community of like-minded people. After all, a job on the ship is pretty unconventional. I thought everyone there was an explorer, an intrepid seafarer, a Columbus in the making-escaping to the seas to answer the call of their destiny. However, much to my dismay, I realized that it was only unconventional to me but not to most of the Italians, Indonesians, Peruvians or the Philippinos. The company is just like any other multinational firms, except this one thrives while crossing the ocean. So at the end of the day, just like anywhere else, it’s the people who makes your contract a good one or a bad one. On my first contract, I had the pleasure to know a lot of people from different countries and from all walks of life because I was working on a much smaller ship. I also did find a good friend or two that I still kept in touch with till today. My second contract was rather miserable as I had to deal with many idiots, and people who didn’t speak English. I remember crying my eyeballs out on Skype as I spoke to my close friend in London. Luckily, as time progressed, I finished the contract with 3 close friends and speaking much better Italian. The third contract was short and sweet and I had a chance to know a handful of really good friends. Boy, I had so much fun! As for this contract, I did make some good friends but everyone disembarked two weeks after. They were reaching their end of their contracts while I was only starting mine.

In a nutshell, it will be a rather lonely Christmas Eve this year. Who knows what will happen tonight but I rather hole up in my cabin and watch The Complete Fifth Season of The Simpsons than to find out.

Merry Christmas to those who have been blessed to have the company of their loved ones on this day….you don’t know how lucky you are.

Christmas orphans, I hear you.

Merry Christmas, love.

I am a woman of grand beginnings. I love the formation of new projects, new stories, new chapters in life but I am unable to see through them.
I love the smell of a fresh, crisp page of a brand new journal but unfortunately, after my inking my way through the first few pages, the journal no longer has the capacity to enchant me like it has before. That’s why my blog is in such a sad, stale state. I was too busy dreaming but didn’t get around to sit down and write them down. I thought tedious details are for the meticulous, not for me. I’m the idea smith, the creator, where with just a stroke of a hand, I could conjure up a multitude of colourful and shiny possibilities.

But alas, I was foolishly ignorant that big dreams are accomplished by working on small stuff. The most mundane and banal steps are necessary because it will eventually create the big picture in the future. No one could have completed a journey without taking the small steps towards their destination. The journey would then comprise of tiny daily triumphs and temporary obstacles.

And while I’m here, stuck on a floating hotel, with nothing much to do or to look forward to, I must perhaps remind myself that an exciting blog doesn’t consist of just inspiring long posts, but also the dull and boring short ones. Because if I keep waiting out for something big to happen, I might just miss out on writing anything at all.

It’s time.