This article pretty much sums up my feelings and reasons for my nomadic lifestyle…

Wanderlust
Travel Stories: Some struggle to separate love and lust. Elisabeth Eaves has had a harder time distinguishing love from wanderlust.

http://www.worldhum.com/features/travel-stories/wanderlust-20090211/

PAST, PRESENT AND FUTURE
Current physical & mental report for Wandering Ying
Health status: Pretty good, been doing some exercises in my cabin. Am drinking loads of water though occasionally, I wouldn’t say no to a Rum & Punch or a Cosmopolitan. Am having white wine for dinner everyday-a mandatory ritual. Got a burnt face and looking as red as a ripe tomato.
Hair: Shoulder length
Height: Still damn short!
Weight: Probably a kilogram or two heavier.
Mental health: Light-hearted and content, riding the waves of life as it comes
Relationship status: SAS (Single as Ever)
Understanding Italian (the language): Still learning but it’s coming along brilliantly. Stashed a good deal of Neapolitano and Romano slang and ‘parolace’ (curse words) under my belt.
Understanding Italians (the people): Gave up on that a long time ago.

***
For the past few months, you’ve been hearing nothing but complaints and lamentations from me. I was a harsh critic, quick to condemn and even quicker to blame. I had high expectations for life onboard and the people around me. I needed to point the finger at something or someone, who or which I felt responsible for my unhappiness. I succeeded of course, finding fault after fault but I paid the price for it: it made me even more depressed. Even though I met people who told me otherwise (that they’re actually having fun onboard), I refused to lighten up and masochistically stayed stuck in my own rut. But as tides of life change, the ebbs and flows of destiny inevitably comes and goes, I slowly began to see that I was personally responsible for my own wretchedness. However, it wasn’t till I gave up trying to perfect my woeful life that life started to flow easier again.

I don’t speak Italian-but so what? It shouldn’t stop me from communicating. I don’t have a penchant to be social butterfly but so what? It shouldn’t stop me from having fun. I don’t enjoy treated like ‘figa’ but so what? It shouldn’t stop me from practicing the art of flirting and putting it to good use. I couldn’t find a like-minded who could indulge me in deep conversations but so what? It shouldn’t stop me from getting to know the various personalities that are onboard.
I started to listen instead of speak; I started to pay attention to whatever that requires my constant awareness. Somehow, I started to get to know more people. Those who didn’t speak to me before, like the African contortionists, the English dancers, the Italian electricians, the Receptionists, the South American shop attendants, the Animators-they all started to engage me in a conversation. My close friends and I suddenly had more things in common. We started to find humour in our language differences. Suddenly they were keener in learning English and found the patience to coach me in my Italian. I became more creative in sharing and learning. I started to draw comics for my close friends-starring ourselves as the main characters, using solely Italian for dialogue. They would laugh (as they actually understood the joke!) and then correct my grammar after.

Somehow word has gotten around that I was a decent teacher. More crew from the Entertainment and Tours department started to take interest and have been coming regularly for classes. As most of them have an upper intermediate level of English, lesson planning became more challenging but also rewarding. I could stimulate more heated discussions and could put my favourite literature to good use.

***
After my disembarkation from MV CA (the other ship that I’ll be going to, from April 18th onwards), I’ll be travelling with Tim through some obscure parts of Eastern Europe. We’ll fly from London Heathrow to Tirania, Albania. The trip will eventually end in Istanbul if goes as planned. Good old Tim has suggested whether I would consider getting an apartment and settling in Istanbul for a while. As I lack of any future plans (other than the US, South America and a MFA scholarship), I thought-why the hell not? I’ve only heard good things about Istanbul. It’s also not too far away, infact, it’s the center between Asia and Europe. Tim’s also a good friend so I don’t foresee any headaches that might occur in the future.

Funnily, just when I’m not desperate to be anywhere or to do anything in particular, other suggestions just pop up, like a multitude of possibilities flooding out of the open dam of Opportunities. I remembered there was a time when I was so ardent in trying to make a living in Italy…striving to find a shortcut to live there without having to marry someone or to be employed by a company… it sounded all so far-fetched then. It wasn’t easy, looking like a Chinese girl, fresh off the plane, clutching tightly to a Malaysian passport. However now, my friends are handing me open invitations to live and work in Italy. They’re more than happy to accommodate me for a while and are equally keen in polishing my Italian so that I could secure myself a decent job. Talk about Life (or God if you’re religious) working in mysterious ways! Anyway, I’m definitely looking forward to taking up the proposal after my Eastern Europe trip. Eventual decisions will be made based on the status of my bank account, relationships with people around me and potential ones that I will have along the way and how much I’d like Istanbul.

I’ll be going back to London, that’s for sure but I don’t know if I’ll stay. We’ll see. Time will tell.

***
I have been reading a lot, ravenously devouring different types of books from the ship’s library. Whenever I can, I would also download stories from the Internet. Yolande, a good friend from Malaysia but whom I knew in London, sent me The Harmony Silk factory, an International bestseller written by a Malaysian. Apparently there’s another equally good book by a Malaysian called An Evening is A Whole Day but I haven’t got a chance to look into that yet. These books serve as a reminder that I should shut up about writing a book and just bloody write one! At the moment, I’m also enjoying Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness-a book that every traveller should read. Man,that dude can sure write!
***

We’re now doing a 25 day crossing back to Italy, calling at several ports in North Africa and Egypt on the way. We will arrive in Naples on the 7th and then in Savona on the 8th of April. My contract on the MV CE will effectively terminate on the 15th of April and I will be transferred to the MV CA right after. I will embark in Guadeloupe on the 18th.

I’m definitely looking forward to that as the itinerary will involve a short cruise around the French Caribbean, a Transatlantic, the Fjords and then The Baltic states.

As I’m coming close to the end of this contract, there are loads for me to reflect and ponder upon. It will definitely trigger another post. Watch out for it.

Love and Light,

Ying

I don’t think I’m drop-dead gorgeous but I don’t think I look that bad either. Surely a quasi-cute, single and available twenty-year old something would be able to secure herself a nice, interesting chap-not just for the cuddles and kisses with but also for good company. I don’t need it, am really not desperate but sometimes, it’s nice to spend time with another like-minded from the opposite sex, no?
Okay, fine, I’m a little neurotic, overtly verbose, laughs like a hyena, not smart enough, too tiny and too schoolgirl looking compared to the Mediterranean goddesses of the Front Desk (Reception) onboard but still …..

“I haven’t had much practice with flirting. Smiling and having a light banter with wicked innuendoes inserted haven’t been much of my current activity despite the fact that the ship is filled to brim with very hot, European men. The Italians especially has such exquisite features, complete with honeyed skins, long eyelashes, dark curls and gleaming champagne-coloured or azure blue eyes.
But, as I don’t speak enough Italian, the only time their eyes crinkled with mirth and amusement is when they’re laughing at me-not with me. My bad command of the Italian language usually summons hack throaty, unstoppable peals of laughter from the male species and I usually end up looking quite stupid-like a confused blonde, caught in action. If that’s not it, it’s usually because they’re not interested in a banter in the first place. Their sense of humour is terrible and they either take things too seriously. If not, they are not listening in the first place or their jokes usually involve putting another person down. What they’re really interested in, is to seduce me with their over-keened eyes, pour more wine into my glass so that when I’m sufficiently drunk, they can bonk me senseless. In some ways it feels like I’m transported back into college, where boys couldn’t hang on to a conversation or couldn’t even surrender to just a good banter, due to urgent, animalistic, raging hormones.

Whatever happened to witty conversation that helps fuel eroticism? Obviously most Italians (onboard of the MV CE) are not introduced to that. Perhaps they don’t need it. All they need to do is look good, offer someone a Colgate smile, batt their eyes (yes, the men), give a wink and then girls would just melt.

The Italian Casanovas

So, they’re usually put off by me or just plain confused, whenever I smile and give them a huge slap on the back, like a fellow mate in a pub, whenever they inch too close or they started to slip in sexual physical innuendos. Yes, they can be very good looking but I can’t stand boredom. In other words, they’re as dull as ditch water. Yawn.

So come one fine Mauritius night, where the usual gang and I were hanging out in Les Enfant Terribles, a less kitschy club compared to Buddha Bar, Roberto, in his drunken stupor said to me: “Ying, I don’t understand, why you don’t have a man? No man on boat good for you?”

Roby and Moreno-my two best friends who couldn’t understand why I like being single onboard

I chided him in my lousy Italian, “Haven’t we been through this before? The men on the ship are not interesting, are bastards and they break my balls! How boring! You understand?”

“Yes, I know. You are our principessa (princess) and you got high standards. No, just for sex, you know. Not be your marito (husband). You cannot find any?”

” Ma, si! They’re so ultimately boring that it won’t even lead to a one night stand! It’s better to sleep than to be with them.”

Roberto nodded sagely, as if he understood. And to change the subject, he decided to get me to buy him some beers and a burger. He said his English is not good enough to order anything. I gave him a murderous look but he gave me a drunken smile and I knew it was hopeless.

So I went to perch at the hamburger stand and tried to order a burger to Roberto but amongst the other tall clubbers, I slipped into oblivion. So, I waited for the crowd to clear. Two Mauritius Chinese boys (yes, they look like college kids) started to speak to me in Creole but I said I’m not local and I’d appreciate it if they could speak to me in English. They asked me about my ‘vacation’ and whether I liked Mauritius. I told them yes but it’s unfortunate that everything is so expensive. One of them told me that we’re probably ripped off but there’s nothing I can do since I don’t speak Creole and can’t pretend that I’m a local. A foreigner who was at another end of the burger stall, who seemed to be eavesdropping, suddenly guffawed to himself. Curious, I shouted over the din, “What are you laughing at?”

“Well, you’re the second person that I hear, who’s speaking American. There’s one at the dance floor but he’s a jerk. But of course, I don’t mean you. Hi, I’m Alex. From Manchester.”

“Right. Is that what you do at burger stands? Listening to people’s conversations?”

“No, but I couldn’t help myself. So what are you doing here? You’re probably here for a night and then you retire back to your luxurious hotel suite after that?” he mocked.

“Kind of. I’m here for a day and then I return back to the ship.” That elicited a surprised look from him.

45 minutes later, we were still talking and teasing another. I soon found out that Alex is half-Italian, half-English and he works with the United Nations in Mauritius. But half of the time, we were just talking shit about being on the ship, pirates and political rebellion, and his job. It was absolutely refreshing to be speaking at a pace that someone else could keep up with, laugh like a hyena again and be cheeky. I don’t know if we were flirting but we definitely had a great conversation, without the help of alcohol. We just went on and on; it was someone had just turned on the taps in our mouths. Just then, my colleagues would come over to pinch my cheeks, sling their hand over my shoulders, and try to butt into our conversation.

However, it soon became time to go back. The taxi driver that we hired was already calling out, reminding us of the time. It was a shame but we had to stop talking. Unfortunately, it’s get contact numbers and in the end, I just casually said that I’ll see him again at the same bar on the 28th Feb. Whether or not he or I will show up will a story for another day.

Sugiana Ngyakan knocks on my office door, and shuffles in. He looks terrified. I don’t blame the poor boy, after what turned out to be the most grueling lesson two days ago.

At first, we had attempted a simple comprehension passage on the computer. After that, I got him to read the passage aloud. It was about a shopping list, things you had to get before a picnic. He had read the passage-hesitatingly missing most of the ‘S’es and giving incorrect emphasis to certain words. This young Indonesian boy is a Night Cleaner, sweet and shy but rather dreamy. Again and again, I pointed out his mistakes but he had only smiled and repeated them over and again. I had let him be. Then, I had asked him to jot down some vocabulary that I think might be useful. I dictated the words and he jotted it down without a word. When I reviewed his sheet, I realized that he couldn’t spell. And even after I corrected his mistakes, he was still confused. It then dawned me that he doesn’t know the correct pronunciation to the alphabets.

“Okay, the alphabets in English. Now, repeat after me. A, B, C…”
The problem was, he couldn’t remember his Gs and Js and K’s. The hour wore on with me drilling into him the English Alphabet system and him, looking more and more miserable each time. By the end of it, we were both exhausted and there was no progress. He couldn’t remember all 26 of them and neither could he pronounce H, J and K. He cowered under my impatience. I softened after seeing his inevitable confusion. Perhaps he was a slow student at school.
I had relieved him from the class but I made him promise that he’ll memorize the alphabets.
“Miss Ying, you erase board after this? I am shame. Still learning A, B, C,” Sugiana pleaded. I nodded and then he had left, with his head hung low. I had felt awful but it had to be done.

Yesterday, he passed me by at the corridor and he said, “Miss Ying-when is next lesson? I want to be good in English.”
“Tomorrow. Don’t forget what you’ve got to do.”
Today, I had the whiteboard filled with all the alphabets but left some blanks for him to fill in. Slowly, he pronounces each and everyone of them correctly and does not leave a single alphabet out.

“I did it!”
“Yes, indeed you did it. Now that you know the alphabets, shall we continue?”
He eagerly nods. His eyes now gleam with keenness and enthusiasm.

Me teaching

One of my favourite students, an Animator, working on past tenses