There is a fine line when it comes to striking up friendships on a ship. Most people will confuse your offer of friendship as an invitation to your cabin or a proposal for a temporary partner and of course, this applies only if you’re a female on board. And so after you smile at them, talk to them, they’ll start stalking you down or send you random love notes. Yes, I used to get that when I was working on the other ship.

Scraps of paper were slipped under my office’s door, and on it was scrawled: I love you. There were phone calls from some random waiter or security guard, telling me to meet them at a certain place and time. I was petrified. For a while, I wouldn’t talk to anyone because I couldn’t trust any of the lot. When you finally found those people that you can open up to, you thought you could rest in relief, but no, because then they start to be attracted to you. Which is flattering, except that they are married, engaged or taken. It’s a very frustrating cycle that I’ve learned to withdraw quickly from. You learn to protect yourself. You put up all these defenses so that you can avoid the drama.

But the problem is, I have a habit of making friends with men first, simply because they’re more easy-going, funny and less uptight. Being not very ‘feminine’ myself, I blend in well in a company of men: I can guffaw as loudly as they can, tell bad jokes and am as loose tongued.

Today, I made friends with a number of people: Fulvio, the Chief Children Animator, a female photographer from Honduras; Ismael, the Kitchen Steward and George, the Hotel Fitter. Now, George seem to have that glint in the eye when he said, meaningfully, that the contract will go by quickly if you have good friends or someone to go through the contract with. That makes me snap back my defenses immediately. Well I think George is kinda cool but that doesn’t mean I want to sleep with him and by all means, I’m not into looking for ‘temporary partners’.

Thank god I’m now older and wiser. I’m going to enjoy myself on the ship, enjoy teaching the crew and stay away from the desperate.

22 Nov- Savona, Italy
23 Nov-Naples, Italy
24 Nov-AT SEA
25 Nov-AT SEA
26 Nov-Alexandria, Egypt
26 Nov-Port Said, Eygpt
27 Nov-Suez Canal Transit, Egypt
28 Nov-Sharm El Sheikh-Egypt
29 Nov-Aqaba, Jordan
30 Nov-Safaga, Egypt

1 Dec-At Sea
2 Dec-At Sea
3 Dec-Aden, Yemen
4 Dec-At sea
5 Dec-Salalah, Oman
6 Dec-At Sea
7 Dec-At Sea
8 Dec-At Sea
9 Dec-Mahe Port Victoria, Seychelles
10 Dec- Mahe Port Victoria, Seychelles
11 Dec-At Sea
12 Dec-At Sea
13 Dec-Mombasa, Kenya
14 Dec-At Sea
15 Dec-Mayotte Comoros Island, France
16 Dec-Diego Suarez, Madagascar
17 Dec-At Sea
18 Dec-Mauritius Port Louis
19 Dec-Reunion St.Denis, Reunion
20 Dec-Mauritius Port Louis

The swells are strong and they keep slamming the ship with such relentless force.

At this point in time, we’re crossing a turbulent zone. I had to literally hold on to the railings and walk sideways with my back leaned on the metal pipes and wall. The floor is slippery with water; somewhere is leaking. Watertight doors all over the ship are closing; I hear intermittent alarm bells, cautioning both passengers and crew to stay put and safe. As the ship tips extreme left, everything from the right slid across the floor. Thank god I’ve nothing on the right side of the room except for shoes and my suitcase. I am not seasick as I’ve been through it before on the MV CAL but the movement on this ship scares me. Through the porthole I could hear the fury of the ocean, bellowing, pulling, pushing, swallowing, crashing. It’s as if nature is avenging itself; making its vengeance felt. The ship is at the mercy of the storm.

I pray we’ll navigate to safety.

If there’s one thing that I need to come to terms with, it’ll be about the practicality and the usefulness of my position as a Crew Lecturer or an English Teacher. I have battled with this for ages ago, since the very first time I started working with the company. There were times when I questioned why the need for this position when everyone else is already getting by with speaking broken English. However, safety issues became a problem for the Chinese crew. They weren’t able to communicate instructions or report emergencies to the officers due to their limited grasp of the language and were all sent to my classes. All of a sudden, I had a job to do again. In a very egoistic sense, I thus become important again. No longer was I the person who’s caught having three cups of coffee within 15 minutes due to lack of work. I was no longer the epitome of “The Good Life” because I was working hard, just like everyone else.

However on this ship, everyone CAN communicate in English. In fact, it doesn’t really matter if they can because half of the crew speak merely Italian. The passengers are mainly Europeans, thus rendering my service worthless and my position, redundant.

If I were to view myself from the outside, I must appear to be pretty pitiful. No friends, no colleagues, no work. Even Randy, the Crew Bartender, took pity on me and gave me free coffees. That is the least I could do: drink.

You have no idea how tiring it is for people to stare at me, peer at my nametag and then ask, “So what exactly do you do? You teach? Which language?”

As of now, I couldn’t start anything, as I couldn’t even get hold of my boss to hand my beeper. There’s much to do but if I don’t have a basic tool of communication, no one could get hold of me and thus no progress. I can’t be sitting in my office the entire day, filing nails.

There are some who actually admired my position, telling me that I’m lucky not to be given anything to do. Well, the thing is, I know I’m supposed to be something.. so it’s harder not to be doing anything when you know you need to do something. I couldn’t really concentrate on reading or writing because I know there’s a job I’ve to do but I can’t carry out…because my job is so dependent on everyone else.

I am very, very, very close to throwing the towel. There’s nothing I can do
Maybe it will change. Maybe when they realize that I’m just gallivanting my time away, they’ll start to pay attention to my work. If not, they’ll just have to kick me out.

Simon, the Canadian host, joined me at the dinner table. We were previously acquainted from another ship. We had some mutual friends and also, he was the lover of a close friend of mine.

He’s very talkative, very zany and wild but still good company.

The conversation began like this:

“Nikki laughed when she heard you’re on the Europa with me. She sends her regards.”

“Oh, how’s she? I’d love to have her here with me.”

“So you really liked her huh?”

“Yeah, she was sweet and nice. Great sense of humor. I really respected her. Does she have a boyfriend now, or is it the same one?”

“Yeah-the Engineer.”

“Still the same fucking Italian?”

“Yeah man.” Laughs. “Anyway, yesterday you said you wished to go back to Asia to join your girlfriend. Who’s she? Which one?”

“Girlfriends I mean.”

“Alright man, way to go. From the ship?”

“Well, just all over. I’ve got this Malaysian girl that I’d see every time the ship docks at Kota Kinabalu. Met her in Brunei actually. She told me she was from Kota Kinabalu and I said, no way! My ship goes to KK every fortnight…maybe we can hang out! I’d take her back to the ship, go get food at the buffet and then spend the whole afternoon making sweet love. After a bottle of champagne of course.”

“Wow, Titanic literally. Did the porthole fog up?”

“Heh, you bet. Yeah and then, there’s Yuko, the Japanese chick I met in Hong Kong. Really hot.”

“Hmm.”

“And yeah…wow, come to think of it, I’ve slept with so many girls from all different countries. Hmm…it’s been 5 days now…wait Ying, where are you from?”

“Malaysia. You’ve slept with a Malaysian so I’m off the list. Phew!”

“Awesome. I went back to Canada after I disembarked from the Allegra and I hooked up with this Guadeloupian. She’s real choice.”

“Hahah. Another box to check.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry. The ship has a buffet of personalities for you to choose from. I’m sure you won’t be sexually deprived.”

“I don’t know, man. This ship…”

“Oh, so you’ve checked it out?”

“Of course, are you kidding me? Did you see the two dancers sitting at the table next to us? They’re hideous! Could be potentially interesting…though I doubt so.”

And so the conversation proceeded to us counting the amount of women he slept with, the nationalities involved and with whom he was involved with (in regards to the previous ship we worked on). Yes, it was all gossip. I feel awful indulging in it but it was nonetheless lighthearted and hilarious. I don’t know if he detected the hint of sarcasm in my tone.

Having said that, I think he deserves credit in being non-pretentious. It was refreshing to see someone so honest about his sex life. He wasn’t in any way bragging but more like throwing it out on the table as if it were casual facts. I like the fact that he could talk about it so easily and seemed to appreciate these girls that he had been with. I don’t know if he was a heartbreaker but whatever it is, I’m not in the position to judge him. Why the moral uppity? He wasn’t asking me to condone his behavior; neither was he trying to preach the benefits of being sexually active.

He merely shared and I listened.

“ So what are you doing later tonight again?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

My little misadventure did evoke some cravings for alcohol so I went to the Crew Bar and got myself a glass of Campari Soda. For the uninitiated, it’s an aperitif drink that Italians would have before food. It’s potent, taste a little like cough medicine and cheap. 0.48 Euro cents.

Some people come and go but I hung around to speak to Randy, the Phillipino Crew Bartender. Niice chap; friendly and easy-going. Genuinely interested in listening to people. Some guys from the engine stopped by. They usually have do me a look over and then decided that I’m not worth their time…. I don’t speak Italian and they can’t be bothered to do the whole sign language thingy unless I’m a carbon copy of Angelina Jolie. It’s all very functional. They come to the ship to work, and if they need women to share the bed with them, they’ll ask. But forget about friendships and chats. They don’t need that. Nonetheless, one stayed back to talk to Randy and after, finding out that I spoke some Italian, we continued chatting for a while.

The fact is that, if you don’t speak Italian on this ship, then you’re practically hopeless. Speaking English gets you nowhere unless you just want to hang out with the British dancers who are all mainly 18-21 years old. The ship is large enough to have everyone form nationality or language cliques. You are not forced to use another language because there’ll be enough people in your department who speaks your native tongue. It’s a shame but that’s how it is.

Everyone stays in their clusters: the entertainers; the officers; the technicians; the bartenders. Why bother trying to strike a conversation with someone else especially when you don’t have to work with them?

It’s a Couchsurfer’s Hell.

Then, Eduardo from Honduras walked in. I was already on my second Campari bottle and the world swirled a little. Seeing Eduardo again made me grin with genuine happiness and alcoholic merriment. He is the upholsterer of the ship, a sweet old man, probably in his late 50’s. When he smiled back, I could see his black and gold teeth. We had always enjoyed each other’s presence despite the fact that I don’t speak Spanish and him, English. But we would just smile and smile and smile.

This time however, I could manage some Italian and started talking. Italian and alcohol don’t mix well- I can tell. I started rambling about my vacation in London, why Giorgio and I are no longer together, his vacation, why I missed the previous ship, gossip about our previous colleagues, why this ship is shit-etc.

By the end of it, I had to excuse myself, took huge gulps of water and leave the Crew Bar. I felt embarrassed because two bottles of Campari Soda (they’re probably 75ml each) knocked me out. Even a Jaegermeister is slower than this!

One of the Sous Chefs stopped me and asked whether I was okay. I guess I must have looked REALLY TIPSY.

Ah. I guess I’m settling in quite well already.

I had never felt so frightened, desperate and frustrated in my life.

After I updated my blog in an Internet café in Barcelona, I went out to find my way back. As previously shown by a waiter who served me in a café, I walked the path that I thought would lead me out of La Ramblas and into the pier. But as I kept walking, I felt like I was walking into the heart of Barcelona instead of out of it. More markets, artists and shops littered along sight, tempting me with their dazzling display of Spanish goodies and artwork but all I could think at that time was how the fuck do I get out of here.

I was supposed to be back by 6pm and it was already 5. I know the meeting point wasn’t too far away but one wrong turn could lead me into nowhere. My heart pounded and my thoughts thud furiously. Think, think, think. I had no contact number, nothing. If I get back late, the ship will leave without me and I’ll automatically be disembarked. Being trapped in a foreign country without a passport and losing my job are both prospects that I didn’t look forward to.
Eventually, I turned to the closest person next to me and started to ask for directions. I may take pride in my poor Italian but I am a complete retard in Spanish. I tried to tell him that I was looking for the port but he only got more confused. And then, I remembered I took some pictures when I first got out of the shuttle bus. It was of a really interesting and probably important monument nearby. I showed the picture to him and his eyes flickered with recognition. He pointed to the opposite side of La Ramblas and told me to walked till the end of it.

I was aghast. La Rambla is freaking a few kilometers long…. I’d probably be late by the time I arrive at where I wanted to go. Nonetheless, left with no other choice, I walked. Kept walking. And I had to have faith in this guy’s directions. He had to be right.
Apparently, he was also going the same way. After a long walk, he assured me that it was the right way and I should just keep going until I see the monument.

10 minutes later, I arrived. My head cleared with glorious thoughts. As I walked closer towards the meeting point, I can see several company’s shuttle busses on one side of the road, waiting to take both the crew and passengers back into the ship terminal.

That was close!

Note to self: never to go off wandering if you’re prone to getting lost.
It’s not worth it.

Spent most of my time wandering along and around La Rambla..every alley seem to reveal something a little more….markets, galleries, architecture studios, museums…art spaces….a real beautiful place. Thick fog hung in the air…and the sunlight streaming through, it does look truly magical.

Have to find my way back now…am convinced that I’m quite lost.

Until then….tomorrow is Ajaccio or something like that. No idea where.

Lots of love,
Ying

PS-Musty, will get back to writing some profound answers to your very interesting questions….

I can see that everyone’s already judging me, from the way I look, from my position and from who I talk to. Fortunately, I met a number of colleagues that I used to work with on the other ship like the Master Valet (he basically serves the top 5 officers namely the captain, staff captain, doctor, safety officer and chaplain), some restaurant guys, some musicians and the First Officer. The First Officer and I never really spoke but we’d exchanged some pleasantries. Over here, he seemed like he was really glad to see me. His eyes grew wide when he met me, kissed my cheeks and then pinch it after that. That’s really nice for a change because Officers are usually quite arrogant and sleazy.

His physical stature reminded me of Marco, the previous First Officer for Engines back on the MV CAL. Not too tall but broad shouldered, tanned, and a shock of wavy dark and grey hair would frame his temples. Very distinguished looking. Marco and I got along very well without speaking much English. I met him a month before I disembarked from my previous ship. We could connect at a level where we both shared similar perspectives in life. Those times, we would sit outside the Crew Bar, underneath the stars, and with a beer in our hands, traded stories. He would keep supporting me to write my novel and would tell me stories about his motorbike, his amazing Buddhist sister, his Sicily and his ex-wife. I think he had desired to be with me but I was with Giorgio (even though Gio wasn’t onboard at that time) and wouldn’t imagine of betraying our relationship. Marco knew that and he respected the boundaries; he remained sweet, helpful and attentive, like a good friend. We would keep chatting into the night…. those dreamy talks about our destinies and direction in life. Those were the one of the best times on the other ship.
Will I be able to find someone like that on this ship? A good friend that I could connect with without the complications of romance and physical intimacies? I wouldn’t hold my breath since it’s too vast to make any instant connections but again, time will tell. And there must be reason why I’m here…. Someone that I’ve to meet, someone to teach me a lesson, something that I need to know… hopefully, every day, a new insight will be revealed.

After a night of fitful rest, I woke up to a new day in Genoa. The air was crisply fresh and the sun blessed the city with its rays. It was still chilly but at least the sky was blue. At 9am, I was driven to the port to embark. Along with me was a sullen looking Italian. He helped me with my luggage but didn’t speak much. Through his conversations with the driver, I learned that he was the second cook.
When we arrived, a lot more new embarkees were already waiting. I underestimated the weather. Underneath my thin cardigan, I shivered and cursed the Crew Purser for taking so long to settle our documentations. My backpack was wearing me down and the large suitcase by my side kept toppling over. Like a midget, I kept balancing the weight between my shoulders while making sure that my suitcase doesn’t fall.

Eventually, after surrendering my passport and a copy of my contract, I was admitted into the ship. The Indian security guard who checked my passport, looked at me with a sneer: “What position are you? Animator? Hostess? Housekeeping?” It was the sneer that very much made me want to smack him on the face.

And then, a very young but good looking Italian guy, probably the incoming Crew Purser (meaning, he just embarked on the same day and hasn’t taken up his duties as the official CP) hustled all of us to a side. He tried to help to ease the crowd but to no avail. While the C.Europa is a big ship, it still has very narrow corridors.
I remained silent while everyone chattered away in different tongues. The Indonesians formed a group, the Philliphinos another, Italian another, Spanish and Latin Americans another. Everyone assumed I was either Chinese or a Philipina. I couldn’t be bothered to correct their assumptions.
Then, Luca, the photographer that I previously worked with on the MV CAL, walked by. I was glad to see a familiar face. He was my drinking partner in the crew bar last time. Good times then. We kissed each other on the cheek and chatted for a bit before he had to go off and run some errands.
The usual process of embarkation starts usually with the Crew Purser (the one who’s in charge of Crew members) will gather us in one room and start dispensing information and booklets. After an hour later, we were brought to the staff mess (the canteen for staff)….but not without going through a maze. I was amazed at how old and dirty this ship is. And how utterly confusing the way to get from one place to another. You basically had to meander around, cross ramps, pass some garbage rooms, wielding workshops, carpenter’s workshops, before eventually finding a stairs and then down another stairs..and…
Anyway, when we got there, we filled in some forms. The Cadet Officer came in to gather copies of our Basic Safety Training Certificates. You need to be certified before you’re allowed to embark. It was a young Italian boy, probably no more than 21 years old. Cheeky. Tried to tease me while giving back my certificates. Thank god it’s not my first time on the ship, else I’d have either felt really flattered or frustrated. This time, I just accepted his jest with a smile but kept a distance. These young officers can be trouble.
Then a Phillipino nurse, probably suffering from sore throat and a bad cold, made us declare our medical certificates and sign some forms. Apparently I had to have a yellow fever vaccination, which of course, my previous 100 pounds medical examination did not cover. However, I was told to walk to the other Costa ship to get it done. It was about a km away and I walked, with my backpack and camera pack and I wasn’t allowed in. The security guard said as my name wasn’t on the list, he couldn’t permit the entry. And then I had to walk back all the way, go through the maze again, to see the nurse and tell her the problem. This time, she sent me with a bunch of other people from the group.
In short, everything was all right after that. But evening came and I found myself alone at the dining table. Many others were chattering away in Italian or other European languages-each one had company because they work in teams. As for me, I work alone. I answer to the Director of Services, who happen to be a young man but very supportive but I can’t be hanging out with him, can I?
I want to get started on the classes soon so that I’ll have something to do but setting up is difficult at the moment because everyone’s busy. Even the Radio Officer didn’t really have time to attend to my laptop problems. Bah.

So I stayed awake at night, reading Eckhart Tolle’s new book called A New Earth, tried to listen to soothing music, put my mind to rest and hope to wake up to a new day.

PS-Forgive me if the formatting of this blog is a little off….I’m still trying to figure out the Spanish keyboards….