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

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

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 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.

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!
***

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.

It is incredibly expensive to use the internet onboard but pangs of nostalgia and sudden urge of homesickness got the better of me. Starting with 0.50 Euros on the counter, I went to the various favourite websites of mine like Facebook and Couchsurfing and browsed through friends of the new and past profiles. Seeing how settled everyone is, where milestones in life are marked by yet another new car, a well-deserved pay-rise, birth of a child, a marriage, a promotion, the list goes on, makes me go green with envy sometimes. I wish I can anticipate Friday nights, make plans, have weekly routines, meet friends, complain about work and do those mundane things that everyone does but hates.
Ship life is surreal and is still is. You can’t make dinner-you go to the mess and you eat from plastic trays. You don’t make friends but seeing one another so many times make the both of you acquaintances-partners in crime, sharing the same fate and space. Days are marked not by the numbers on the calendar nor the names of the week but rather the names of the port. Having a good time means drinking to your hearts content, playing foosball and if you’re lucky, a good conversation thrown in. Neither speaks the same language fluently so you learn to simplify your vocabulary and hence watering down what you mean. You learn to understand body language instead, watch the eyes of the orator and the accompanying gestures and you make your own conclusions. And when all fails, you turn to silence for company. You don’t have a phone number (some do though) but you have an email address or a beeper where you can be reached. Your house number is your cabin number and an invitation to someone’s cabin is more intimate than an invitation to someone’s house for a cup of tea. You don’t use cash on the ship, you just swipe your personal crew card. It’s your identity card, your credit card, and your life. If you lose it, you cease to exist.
You have an assortment of lounges and bars on different decks to choose from instead of having an array of choices on different streets and suburbs. From time to time, you yearn to yank the fridge door open to pull out a snack but you learn to go to the pastry corner of the enormous galley and steal a croissant instead. You learn to nod when someone says Ciao to you-and you efficiently reply in response but usually in a tone devoid of enthusiasm unless that someone is your friend. You learn to answer to a dozen of different names, each spoken with a different accent. You learn to stay low, keep your eyes and ears open but pretend to know nothing. You learn to stay out of trouble, not to get involved and if anything, save your own ass first. You also learn not to trust.
You learn to accept live by certain rules and regulations; you accept the boundaries that dictate your time. Docking in different ports doesn’t mean travelling; you just see different things and buy things in different currencies.
By the time I finished lamenting over my need for an ordinary life, it was only 15 minutes but the counter showed 19 Euros. And then I realized, for now, for this moment, what an extraordinary life I’m leading. All of a sudden, I was grateful for this opportunity to sway from the default path that everyone takes, and for that, I shouldn’t miss a beat. Not for anything in the world.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

This too, will pass.

Finally, after a month long of being stuck in a situation that I lack courage to change, nature took its course, and removed the thorn that had pierced me. Of course, if I were stronger and more mindful about my situation, I could have easily removed the thorn myself. After all, life situations only become problems when your mind makes it so. Your ego personalizes it and your sense of self is reinforced through the pain and misery of it.

“There is no salvation in time. You cannot be free in the future. Presence is the key to freedom, so you can only be free now.”

I can’t believe I’ve waited this long for the thorn to be removed. I’ve had good advice from those who cared, that I should take the responsibility to make myself happy but instead, I rather suffer in grief, unease and anxiety.

Anyway, the past is the past. The past can no longer hurt me, unless I let it. I am now feeling much better. In fact, I perennially feel a sense of calm and presence. There are of course some events and people that ruffle me but I let it go. I try not to hold on to it.

***

I finally dared to sign up for the excursions offered on my ship. I don’t know why I never wanted to do it, since it’s free for crew. Besides, I’ve always been complaining about having too much free time. So on one random day, I decided to sign up for it and one of them took place today. It was a hiking cum swimming excursion in Nosy Sakatia, Madagascar.

At this point of writing, I’m still reeling from the excitement and admiration at one of nature’s finest landscapes….but a month ago, I took it for granted that Madagascar was like every other country. This must be the disease that plagues everyone working onboard. We assume that since we’ve managed to get ourselves to these countries for free, we don’t have to get all excited about the places we go to. We complain about the lack of internet access and the lack of convenience, the heat and the humidity, the poverty and the aggressiveness of the citizens and a whole lot more. Yet when I was on the excursion on my own (with other passengers), it felt so different.

For the first time I felt, HELL, I’M IN MADAGASCAR! The sparkling green waters are just as magical as the ones in Seychelles. The villages, sparse, small yet incomparably lovely, reminded me of the shacks in Myanmar. People don’t have much yet they find somehow find a way to live their lives in dignity. The Malagasy tour guide, Herve, was merely a young chap who’s still doing his third year in university. He’s paid 15 Euros for every excursion that he goes on. He spoke English with a heavy Creole accent but his intensity, patience and humourous way of delivering information won us over. We spoke a bit while we were relaxing on the beach.

He thought highly about my job and said wistfully that he too wished that he could travel like I do. It’s his dream to go to a university in Europe and then continue to work there. He frowned a little when he heard that I’ve been away from Malaysia for quite sometime.

“Don’t you miss home? Don’t you want to see your family?” he asked.

Such questions are far too common and people are usually puzzled when I just shrug in response. How am I supposed to answer such a question? How can I tell them that I feel ambivalent? Home, my heart would scoff, where is it, anyway? My family is not my anchor, like everybody else. I’m not sure if its due to my mom’s demise or that my dad remarried but since 18, I no longer felt that I could rely on the family entity. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve nothing but respect and love for them yet I feel no sense of attachment. I don’t know if this is normal but I don’t feel like I’ve to live with them in order to prove that I’m a filial daughter. I know that they can take care of themselves perfectly and vice-versa. My dad, like every other dad, is probably worrying sick about me traversing the world yet he has a life that he gets on with…and probably understands by now that I do too.

***

Latest Report: The ship was unable to dock at Tamatave, Madagascar due to the rising rebellion that’s going on in the capital city. Instead, we’ll have an additional day in Mauritius. I guess our itinerary has brought us endless intrigue and excitement-from pirates to political rebellion, I wonder what’s next.