You can curse your fate and fight against destiny, but sometimes, when you least expect it, the divine conspires and offers you a treat or two, tantalizing you to believe in something bigger than yourself again. Synchronicity works its way to provide you the perfect timing to make certain decisions under some pretty doubtful circumstances but alas, to reap the rewards, patience is absolutely vital.

Outside the Apple Store at the Galleria Mall, I am pacing. I look at my watch every now and then and sigh. They are so late, I mutter. I open my book and read the eight page of Napoleon Hill’s Think & Grow Rich, but I couldn’t concentrate. When restlessness kicks in, I close my book, turn and see a familiar figure that I once used to trade travel and writing tips over a couple of milky hot teas.

“Hello,” he says, his face breaking into a big grin. “It’s so weird to see you. But I swear you were much taller before.”

Two and a half years ago, Nithin, an American Couchsurfer, and I were frequently caught engaged in heated pseudo-intellectual debates, under the umbrellas of street food stalls in Kuala Lumpur. He was part of the rising Couchsurfing cult that comprised of my crazy but well-travelled Malaysian friend, Ed, the Dutch who never quite made it to New Zealand ever since he stepped foot in Malaysia, Stef, fun loving Philadelphia, Matt, and yours truly. We met and said our goodbyes at different corners of South East Asia and did it so many times that I really didn’t remember when was it really the ‘last goodbye’. Our friendship has seen us through various misadventures in Malaysia, Thailand and Cambodia.

Since then, we have always kept in touch. An email every 6 months was pretty common. Last winter, he expressed desire to travel Europe again and asked me if I would still be in London. I shook my head no since by that time, I was expected back on the ship. And then, his plans fell through. This year, he sent me another email asking the same thing but unfortunately, for the very same reasons, I sadly shook my head no. But interestingly, he later wrote to tell me that his girlfriend and him would be doing a road trip to Miami before his planned trip to Europe. And what do you know, I happen to be on a ship that docks at Fort Lauderdale every weekend, which is just a 45-minutes train ride from Miami!
Who would have thought that of all the places, South Florida is the place where we’d see each other again?

Despite the wind and the cold, it was still a nice afternoon. Nithin introduced me to his very friendly girlfriend, who also seem to share his love for literature and travel. We reminisced about the past, reflected about the present and shared our anticipation for the future. I felt myself talking faster than usually, occasionally stumbling on long words, trying to say as much as possible during our brief time together. It was so heartening to connect with another like-minded, what more with one who’s an old friend of yours.

I love serendipitous encounters like this! I know it was a pre-conceived plan but I definitely didn’t choose to be in Fort Lauderdale to see him and neither did he plan to come to Miami to see me either. He and his girlfriend bought the tickets way before they knew that I was going to be there.

Sometimes, life can be quite sweet after all.

PS-Thanks for the book too, Nithin!

“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.

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.

Then, I suddenly bumped into Fulvio, the Chief Children Animator whom I’ve previously worked alongside with in my previous contract. Boy, was I happy to bump into a familiar face. Fulvio might not be the best friend of earth but we do share a penchant for travelling and exploring together.
“Have you had a Red Stripe yet?” he asked. Nope, what’s that?
Noting my ignorance, he pulled me to a small street bar where smell of fried chicken filled the air. Soon, I found out that this infamous Red Stripe Jamaican lager is clearly not the favourite amongst locals because it was freaking 3USD each! Nonetheless, the air was filled with festivity and I decided not to worry about the price.
As Fulvio bought the first round of beers, we decided to go somewhere else for the next.
We found another open bar at the Taj Mahal shopping area which seemed to be full of people. A seemingly stoned young guy with long dreadlocks offered his table to us. He went away and came back with two bottles of Red Stripe for us. “Drink up! And don’t forget, to fulljoy! You can’t end joy, so you shouldn’t say enjoy…so drink, Merry Christmas and FULLJOY!” Can’t argue with his wisdom so we drank. The sweet lager moistened our throats and minds, as we chatted animatedly. Then, Giuseppe, one of the Receptionists walked past the bar that we were sitting at. I didn’t know him that well but Fulvio seemed to when he shouted and waved to him. I made a hand motion for Giuseppe to join us…as I could see that he was already in doing what we were. In his hand, was a bottle of Red Stripe that’s half-full. After he finished that, we called for another round of beers. Then, two engineers that Fulvio and I recognized walked past. They too joined the merry party.
Just before we left the bar, I noticed a sign that said, “Don’t drink and drive. You may spill your drink.”
The wisdom of Jamaicans have absolutely made my day.

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.

But alas, I was foolishly ignorant that big dreams are accomplished by working on small stuff. The most mundane and banal steps are necessary because it will eventually create the big picture in the future. No one could have completed a journey without taking the small steps towards their destination. The journey would then comprise of tiny daily triumphs and temporary obstacles.

And while I’m here, stuck on a floating hotel, with nothing much to do or to look forward to, I must perhaps remind myself that an exciting blog doesn’t consist of just inspiring long posts, but also the dull and boring short ones. Because if I keep waiting out for something big to happen, I might just miss out on writing anything at all.

It’s time.

Invites will be sent out when the website is done.

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Prologue

London

I‘m back from my recent wanderings. Back while I was still on the ship, Tim, a friend of mine that I have only met and travelled with once, emailed me and asked what I was doing for the summer. I remember saying I don’t know and I don’t think I could see that far ahead yet. It was probably somewhere in February 09, and I was still working on the MV CE-the worst ship that I’ve ever been on. I was still in the midst of my depressing existence, not exactly enjoying life onboard. Every time, I would look longingly at the waves and wished it provided answers of some sort. I know I couldn’t be truly happy until I get off the ship. Tim said that he may travel around the Balkans and I said I’d join him once my contract finishes. “Cheap flights from British Airways to Tirana. 104 GBP,” he said. Tirana? Where in world is Tirana? I didn’t even know but the more obscure the names are, the more I like the sound of it. It turned out that Tirana is the capital of Albania.

Flags of Albania

When I told Moreno, Francesca and Roby, my closest Italian colleagues that I’d be embarking on a trip, somewhere around Eastern Europe, with an open-ended itinerary that would start from Tirana, they literally went speechless. I’ve never seen speechless Italians before. Their faces were a combination of horror, fear and disbelief. It was the most comical expression that I’ve ever witnessed. And then, Roby opened his mouth slowly and bellowed the longest ‘No’…. that I’ve ever heard. He went on to give me ten reasons why I shouldn’t visit Albania and it included rationales like: Albanians are thieves and they’re dangerous; they create a lot of problems in Italy for the locals; Albanians will kidnap and rape you… and etc. Moreno wagged his finger and blatantly called me crazy.

However, despite their ignorance and their contentment to not budge from their warped bubble of perspectives, I knew that they were merely concerned. Nonetheless, it didn’t stop me from buying a one-way ticket to Tirana. The flight to Tirana would leave from Gatwick Airport, London, on the 24th of June, 2009.

As I was literally stuck on the ship till June 21st, I didn’t have much time to research about the region or find out whether I need visas for these countries. There was a rough plan about the places we should cover but no just no itinerary at the point of departure. Tim said, wait and see. I said, we play by ear.

I didn’t even have time to worry about how travelling with Tim would be like, after not really staying in touch for these past two years. Tim was a friend of Steve’s. He was introduced to me because of his extensive knowledge about teaching ESL in various parts of the world. I have utmost respect for his decision to quit his high-flying lifestyle in England, to become a professional ESL tutor. We met in Perhentian Islands, Malaysia, two and a half years ago (thinking about it now…) and we travelled from there to Bangkok together. I’d shuddered at some snippets of our time together because I remember him as very judgmental, harsh, critical and brutally honest. But he was also very intelligent, interesting, generous, opinionated, kind but brutally honest.

21.06.2009-27.07.2009 (Together)

• Albania
• Montenegro
• Kosovo
• Macedonia
• Bulgaria
• Romania

27.07.2009-06.08.2009 (Solo)

• Turkey

Somewhere between Bulgaria and Romania, Tim visited Serbia on his own while I went on to Ploiesti, Romania, to visit Valentin for five days. It was difficult to get a Serbian visa while being on the road and I didn’t think it was worth it. Tim stayed back in Sofia, Bulgaria after because he found love. As for me, I plodded on because I was happy to travel solo again. I went on to find my own love in Istanbul, Turkey.

The next few entries would be chapters of each country that I’ve been to and its highlights. I’d try to make it as concise, as interesting and as profound as possible.

Fort in Kotor Bay, Montenegro

Pushing Tim into the freezing lake in Sveti Naum Monastery, Macedonia

Partying it up with my English bodyguards (ex-PARAS) in a bar in Pristina, Kosovo

Sibiu, Romania

Pristina reborn, ten years after the bloody battle with Serbians

Bâlea Lake situated at 2,034 m of altitude in the Făgăraş Mountains, in central Romania, in Sibiu

We watched Palermo Shooting by Wim Wenders in a cinema with communist deco in Sofia, Bulgaria

Riding on a rickety Ferriswheel in a retro themepark in Istanbul with Nick

Acknowledgments

1. Grazie Mille to Tim for being the first to initiate this journey and for being a muse, an inspiration, a critic and a friend. If there’s anything that I learned from you, is the fact that no one can make you feel bad without your consent. Un abbraccio to you for your thick and outdated Lonely Planet Eastern Europe guidebook. Without it, we might find ourselves more lost than we already were.
2. Hugs to the two big boys, Colin and Rick (ex-British Paratroopers) that I met in Pristina, Kosovo. Thank you for making me and treating me like a Malaysian Princess. I wonder if things would be different if I’ve stayed on for another day.
3. A million kisses to Tsveti, my Bulgarian CS host(ess) who commanded us to make ourselves at home while we were in Sofia. Like a sister that I never had, she took care of me without being obliged to. Sofia won’t be the same without her.
4. Cheers to Valentin, his friends(Bogdan and brother, Luiza) and his family, Ovidiu and his family and friends (Tibi and Gabby) for showing us the true Romanian hospitality. I will not forget the day where Ovi and Tibi, drove all the way down to Brasov to pick us up and then took us around Transylvania till 11pm. Or how Ovi’s mum had cooked us meals but we never eat them on time.
5. Thanks to all our CS hosts in Romania (Tia & Frank), Kai and Kemal (Istanbul) and the lovely travelers that I’ve met along the way (Alex, Juliana, July, the Swedish guys, the Australian girl, Giulia & Niccolo, Iacopo, Riccardo, Jacobo, Ivan, Ester, the French couple, Sondes, Melahat, Jet Set Zero crew: Jen, Rob and their CS guests) and whoever that I’ve failed to mention but nonetheless not forgotten.
6. Most of all, tanti bacini to Nick, the treasure that was awarded to me at the end of my travels. His kindness and love have provided me with a shelter over my head in Istanbul, endless interesting conversations, necessary intake of good food and alcohol and a sanctuary to be who I am.