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.