July-August-September 2011 : Bali, Lombok and Sulawesi, Indonesia
October 2011: Around Malaysia and Ko Phi Phi, Thailand

Upcoming trip:
Nov 2011: Avignon, Toulouse, Marseille (France) and Andorra

A book for all those who're considering a job on a cruise ship!

When I first came across WanderingEarl’s guide on How To Get A Job on Cruise Ships, I was delighted for 2 reasons: the first being my blogging nickname is the same like his except mine’s Wandering Ying and the second being, my friends could finally stop harassing me on how to get a job on a cruise ship and instead of me sending them long and detailed emails on the application and what to expect out of a cruise ship job contract, I can now get them to buy the book!

Having worked on cruise ships for about 4 years now, I could honestly say, that the guide’s extremely comprehensive and informative. I liked the fact that Derek (Earl) Baron and Liz Aceves had actually listed the cons first before the pros because it clearly outlined what one should expect before applying. Most people would expect it to be working vacation but it isn’t because as much as waking up in a different country may sound glamorous and the perfect job for anyone craving a jet set lifestyle but the constant work, small shoebox size cabins and claustrophobia may actually put one off.  However, if the potential applicant continues to read on despite the disadvantages then they are more likely to be a successful applicant who could actually finish their first contract without wanting to jump overboard after their first week. Cruise ship contracts usually fail to highlight the fine print that if should find the work unsuitable for you and would like to break the contract, you have to pay for your own flights home and may not return to working for the specific company again.

The book is written in a very legible way without cruise ship jargons and reader friendly sections. You can definitely get a lot of information about cruise ship positions including the approximate amount of salary depending on the positions, a summary of potential cruise ship companies to select from and the pre-requisite documents that new hires should provide prior to their embarkation.

However, it doesn’t quite explain what happens after you’re hired. The first day for a new hire may differ according to ships and companies but I think there are general situations to draw upon ie: meeting the Chief Crew Steward for the cabin keys, going to the Uniform Store to purchase compulsory costumes, etc which would help a New Hire from getting lost.

Other than that, I think the guide is well-written, useful and very practical. A cruise ship job definitely allows you to travel more and experience a whole new world of fun while working!

I only wished that it was written before I got my own cruise ship job!

Buy the book!

When I took the first leap, the first sure way to escape, the first path that lead me from the old to the new, as long as I had my backpack, I was invincible. I had no name for my backpack but it was a dark blue one with gray straps, and stitched in white it’s brand, DEUTER, a sturdy German label that assures comfort, longevity and hardiness. It was a name that stood against time and nature.

It was my most expensive investment before I left home and took that 24-hour rickety sleeper train to Bangkok from Butterworth, the first point of my journey. It probably cost about RM380 which with the passing of time makes my memory less accurate on it but nonetheless, I remember, it was a worthy investment.

Ed and I, in all our eagerness to leave our lives as corporate slaves and namely, our city, the good old polluted Kuala Lumpur, had went to Pertama Complex with Steffert, the Dutch CouchSurfer that we were hosting at that time, to look at backpacks. It so happened that Steffert also needed a new backpack. The trio headed there and within 15 minutes of haggling with an aggressive old Chinese lady, we managed to get at least 40% off the original prices. After all, Malaysians hadn’t got the hang of the culture of backpacking yet and they needed to make some money-3 expensive backpacks off the racks within the week must be pretty good business.

I remember leaving the shopping complex, beaming and dreaming of all the adventures that I could have with that backpack of mine. It was a 45+10 Litres, with a lot of extra space for shoes and dirty laundry. I even attached a silver and blue teddy bear luggage tag to it, thus personalizing it.

Over the years, the backpack had served me well. I had never washed it so it continued to wear the stains of spilled shampoo, the muddy streaks of dirty hiking sneakers, stains of tar, grime and dirt yet I still love it. It’s mine, it’s my home and now, it finally has some sort of character to it. When I load the backpack onto my shoulders, it towers over me, but the weight never wore me down. The hip straps balanced the weight properly and so even if people couldn’t see the top of my head from the back, they could see that the person carrying the backpack walked in perfect straight lines.

The backpack has been and seen places-it has been put on the cigarette littered train floorboards of the creaking Bulgarian trains, tied to the top of the roof of the Vietnamese busses, placed in between sacks of rice and random poultry animals, in between my unwashed knees and below the feet of my travel companions, from cruise ships to the back of motorcycles, from obscure bus stations to airports…everywhere.

It never tore, the zips always opened and my things were always safe-unlocked. In there, I could fit a hair-dryer, 6 different pairs of shoes, dresses, an umbrella, a sleeping bag, under garments, you name it.

It was my anchor, the only thing that I had constantly despite my transient existence.

You could only imagine my grief and anguish, the feeling that I could akin to losing a loved one, when the staff of a domestic Indonesian Airlines lost my backpack. At first, it seemed like it was misplaced and there was still hope. After all, I always got my backpack back, even if it went missing in Paris, Rome, Guadeloupe, Venice and Doha. It always turned up, like the rising sun.

However, as days slip into weeks and now months, hope has melted away. I had to accept the fact that I’ll never see my best friend-ever again.

I went to purchase a new one, from the same shop that sold my old one. The old Chinese lady was still there, still willful to make a bargain. Everything felt the same, the experience of haggling and everything, except this time, I looked at the Deuter red and grey backpack and thought, no, it is just not the same.

Nothing will ever be the same again.

Wherever you are now, my Blue and Grey Deuter Backpack, may you continue to see things and go places.

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?

Quote of the day: “Not gifted with genius but honestly holding his experience deep in his heart, he kept his simplicity and humanity.” Nanao Sakaki’s description of the great Haiku writer, Issa.

As I switched between movies, I return every now and then to the screen that showed flight information.

Destination: Pointe-a-Pitre, Guadeloupe
Ground speed: 536 mph
Distance since departure: 2983 miles
Flying across the Atlantic Ocean
Time to destination: 2.39
Landing Time: 6.10pm local time

I open the window shutter and let some glacial blinding sunlight in. Some iridescent snowflakes had formed a pretty pattern on the pane. Against the lucid blue skies, they look like crystals. Exquisite. Then, I return back to watching Jim Carrey’s latest film, Yes Man, and stretched my legs across the other two seats. Somehow I got lucky at the check-in and had secured three wide seats to myself.

Despite the harrowing morning, I still find, in some recess of my brain, the experience hilarious. It wasn’t hilarious in the comical way but rather the close calls, the running around and experiencing the zenith of frustration, left me with nothing but a strange calm and an edgy sense of humour. I marvelled at how finally things just fell into place. I felt like I should lift my head toward the skies, shake my fists at it and say to the divine, “Must be some kind of game you’re playing here but whatever it is, you’ve got me!”

Back in a nice three star hotel in Naples, at 4.45am, I was rudely interrupted by a call from the reception. “Get your things down now,” a voice barked in rapid Italian. “Your airport transfer’s waiting.” I remembered that it was meant to be at 5am, not 15 minutes earlier. I stared miserably at my things scattered across the room and started to pack.

At the check-in, I was told that my luggage would arrive at its final destination. I remember cocking an eyebrow in skepticism, since I had to transfer, not just from one flight to another, but from one airport to another, in Paris. However, I fought my doubts down and thought that perhaps after AirFrance took over AliItalia, they had some sort of new luggage technology. I forgot that Airfrance is equally as bad in losing and misplacing passengers’ luggage.

I had another transfer in Milan Linate, before Paris. I had only 10 minutes to run from arrivals to departure and worried inconsequently about my luggage not making it on time.

When I arrived in Paris Charles De Gaulle, I enquired about my luggage and whether I should pick it up in CDG itself before going to Paris Orly. There was a nagging thought that I was right and the earlier check-in clerk was wrong. The friendly guy behind the desk confirmed my worst fears but assured me that there’s a free shuttle bus to Paris Orly and it’s only about an hour between the two airports. I have plenty of time to pick my luggage up at the carousel and everything else. He checked in online for me and said, “Good luck, sea girl!”

I waited at the luggage carousel for 15 minutes but saw no sign of my luggage. There was only about 100 people on the flight so it was obvious that something went wrong. Spoke to the receptionist at the Baggage Service and she helped me checked through the systems to see whether it arrived. It didn’t and she told me to come back 30 minutes later. At 12.00 pm, I went there again and she shook her head apologetically. Told me that it was best if I were to lodge a claim and give her an address so that they could deliver it to the spot. I didn’t have an address of the hotel that I was meant to stay at. I rushed up to an international phone booth, paid 20 Euros for a phone card and started calling Costa’s emergency number for travelling crew. They said I should call Guadeloupe’s port agent. Called Guadeloupe’s port agent, got some sort of address and hoped for the best.

It was 12.30 pm when I headed towards the exit. I looked at my boarding tickets and it said boarding time 2pm. That means, if I don’t get to Paris Orly by then, I’ll be screwed. Time was running out. I was breathless and couldn’t think straight. Enquired for the shuttle bus stop but the French couldn’t speak English. Hand gestures took me around in circles. Eventually, found the spot where I should wait. Bus didn’t arrive. A crowd had already gathered and everyone was cursing. The bitter wind didn’t help.

Glanced at my watch-12.50pm. Merda! Ran towards the taxi area and asked the price to Orly. 60 Euros he quoted but he pointed ahead and say that I had to go all the way to the front to be part of the queue. It looked about 1 km away. Turned back and decided to wait for the shuttle bus. My brains were scrambled with thoughts that screamed, “I won’t make it. And the cost involved if I don’t.”

The shuttle bus came at 1.10pm. It was full. At this point, I was glad that I didn’t have my 35kgs worth of luggage to lug onboard. I was small and could fit into any corners. The only belongings I had were my Crumpler camera bag and daypack.

Got there at 2.00pm sharp. Realizing the fact that I was already checked in previously via Internet, I dashed towards the departure gates. After I got there, there was still 5 minutes left to catch my breath. It was then where the bitter sensation of self-pity and wretched misery invaded into the pores of my skin. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for myself, feel angry at the fact that The Company booked me on such stupid flights and that WHY DO THINGS LIKE THAT HAPPEN TO ME? Why me, I thought, albeit knowing it to be a big cliché.

Then again, why not me. Everyone have a bad day at some point in their lives, everyone must have lost their luggage at some point in their lives-my time is now.
Must be a whole ball of bad karma snowballing down the hill and then triggered an avalanche of shitty events.

As for now, I could do nothing else but wait. So why not just enjoy the waiting moment?

I am trying to access the Internet as if my life depends on it but the Vodafone wifi access they have in Columbus Hotel is really weak. Nonetheless, it’s not going to stop me from telling this story.

I flew out of Heathrow to Genoa, Italy, via Munich. The transition was smooth and I was really impressed with Munich’s airport. Avant-garde art pieces hung on the walls, the floors were clean and glossy, interesting shops and cafes that ooze chic and aroma of fresh coffee beans. While I was in waiting at the departure gates, I thought I saw some familiar faces but didn’t act on it as I was too exhausted and wasn’t looking for company. In fact, I was too busy missing people in London.

When I arrived in Genoa, one of the company’s cab services picked us up. I realized that I wasn’t the only one embarking on that particular ship tomorrow; there were others too. One dark and tall Eastern European looking man called out to me. I said “Ciao” and immediately he launched into a full-blown Italian conversation that I couldn’t quite keep up with. He spoke rapidly and with deep Romanian accent. However, I tried, but injected some English into it.

There were two classical musicians from Hungary, a casino dealer from country unknown and a bunch of people from the engine department from Romania, including the guy who spoke to me. After that I completely tuned off because they started to speak in Hungrarian/Romanian. Apparently, the Eastern European languages are quite similar hence they can understand each other.

As the cab drove towards the heart of Genoa, my heart sank lower and lower. All of a sudden, I feel impending solitude and lack of peers. I know I will feel claustrophobic on the ship again. The Italian higher management on the ship will again give me a shit and all those sort of things. Am really not looking forward to it. I do pray that my experience on the C. Europa will be different from the MV CAL. Previously, I suffered from anxiety attacks for the first few months simply because I didn’t get the respect I deserved, people were mean and there were a lot of language barrier. Thank god I settled in quite nicely after that.

I’ll just see what tomorrow brings. I won’t be embarking on the MV CE till 2pm. As of now, I’m grateful for the fact that I’ve a nice hotel room, hot shower and snow white towels. The exhaustion from the previous day is starting to take its toll.

Good night from Genoa.

I didn’t make it to Amsterdam. Everything happened too quickly. I had many things to settle like library books, writing assignments, my novel, people to catch up with before I go and all those sorts. I was also hosting Ken, a CouchSurfer who has dabbled in almost everything from race cars to producing films and things just escalated from there.

It’s funny when someone is so caught up in looking forward to see her boyfriend that she forgot that she actually don’t quite like life on the ship. In fact, she hates it. It’s claustrophobic, devoid of all magical possibilities and it has no room for innocent fun. As she sat in the large buffet hall of L’Hotel, Hong Kong, poking at her sashimi, her mind wandered back to those lonely nights where only DVDs kept her occupied, coped up with acquaintances that have large, fake smiles, being pushed to a corner by bitchy administrative directors, turning up in uninspiring Crew Parties, and lack of job productivity and stimulation. But for the past 2 weeks, the only thing she wanted to do is to go back just so that she can meet him once again. Now her wish is granted and she’s going back to the ship tomorrow, but is the price worth paying?

I left KL today for Hong Kong, so that I can embark on the ship tomorrow. The Crew Lecturer who replaced me after I left, William, got into a motorbike accident in Danang. Apparently, he was trying to cross the road and a bike from nowhere flew into his direction, knocked him down and dragged him across the hot tarmac for 10m before he successfully managed to slow down and come to a halt. Poor William, who has just taken over, for less than a month, was in a pretty bad shape and had to be treated in Danang hospital for a week and then was later flown back to Brazil.

Meanwhile, Laura, one of the Language Training Consultants, emailed me about a week ago, asking me whether I’d like to replace William for a month. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not jumping around with glee, with poor William still recovering from the nightmare of an accident, but the timing’s pretty perfect. With Giorgio still onbord, and his dad embarking the same time as I am, for a 14 day cruise, things seem to be falling into place. I remembered whining about wanting more money so that I don’t have to go shoestring when I arrive in UK, and then, somehow things just fell things fell into place. I also got my 2 year UK Working Holidaymaker visa approved and that means, I can get my company to send me right to Pete’s doorstep in Manchester, after I’m done with the job. I can settle for a bit, try to get an interview for an NI number, and then, fly over to Genova to meet Giorgio. Hmmm!

Looks like, Law of Attraction is pretty real after all!

PS-I’m still catching up on the updates, so be patient ya?