April 26th, 2012, Day 69 – Entrance into Europe

In the wee hours of the morning just now (around1:30am), the ship sailed into theMediterranean–sort of; I’m trying to recall my poor geography. In any case,Moroccowas on our starboard side, and on the port side wasGibraltar; so one sideAfricaand the other sideEurope. It’s amazing in a serene way. The sky wasn’t clear, but you could see stars. It was completely dark; you could barely make out features on people’s faces. In the far distance you could see the lights of the cities and ships around, and the outlines of mountains and land.

I was surrounded by new friends on the open deck – the ice cast that I work with, but I felt lonely. I wish there was someone I could share the awe-inspiring moment with.

There was also anther moment I wish I could have shared: beyond the swelling and receding of the waves this afternoon, there were whales. Or dolphins – some sort of fish. We couldn’t really tell because it was fairly far away. We could only see splashes and creatures jumping out of the water. We assumed they were whales because they seemed big for the distance they are from the ship.

I sat there for about half an hour, watching the water rising and falling, and the waves that come crashing in the tail of the ship. They made the most beautiful patterns in the water, like the most intricate doilies you’ve ever seen – ones that make people blind after they’re made. That’s how impossibly detailed and mesmerizing they are. If someone said waters are contemplative, they are right. Sitting there watching the ocean definitely made me contemplative. For what it’s worth, I’m starting to appreciate the ups and downs of this contract, and the opportunities that it presents. But most of all, I am starting to fall in love with the sea.

 

April 24th, 2012, Day 67 – European Cherry

Ponta Delgada,Azores: my first time inEuropeever! If you had asked me where it was before I arrived, I wouldn’t have been able to answer correctly. I’ve never heard of this place before, and certainly didn’t study it in geography classes.Azores, which is spelledAcoresin Portuguese, is an island to the east ofPortugaland belongs to said country.

Just when I was about to exit the terminal, I spotted the Ukrainian dancer, Artem, from the production cast, and we decided to explore the town together. The tourist maps were helpful; we figured we should visit the fort by the pier first, and then make a circle around the attractions in the vicinity. We saw a couple of churches and went to a garden complete with caves and tunnels – they were the rich people’s backyard way back when.

The walk around town didn’t take too long. We went our separate ways after a few hours: him to his fishing store, and I to seek lunch and pineapples to taste.Ponta Delgadais apparently famous for delicious pineapples… who would’ve known! But the search wasn’t easy. I suppose I made all the wrong stops until I finally found a sample dish in a souvenir and dry goods store along the pier. The verdict? They were sweeter – they didn’t have that aftertaste where your tongue could sting from eating too much pineapple. I also got some delicious Portuguese bread; it was very similar to some kind of pastry I’ve had inTaiwanbefore.

Then after the usual shot glass purchase and the mailing of yet another batch of postcards, I decided to call it a day. First impression ofEurope? Beautiful, “cultured” (I mean, we can see historical presence; like it has been through a period of influence), and so different fromNorth America!

 

April 23rd, 2012, Day 66 – Mid-Atlantic Crossing

Today is day 10 of our current voyage. This means it’s been 9 days since we leftNew Orleans, and 4 days away from reachingSpain. Tomorrow we arrive inPonta Delgada,Azores. It is an island that belongs toPortugal, and word has it they have the best king of fruits –pineapples- in the world.

Ever since the start of the crossing, the ship has been doing a “Walk across the Atlantic Walk-for-wishes marathon”. The sports staff brought two treadmills down from the gym and set them up on the promenade. Whenever the ship is moving, so should the treadmills. Therefore we’re either walking or running across theAtlantic Ocean. People can donate by pledging money for each mile walked/ran, buy a t-shirt, or participate by walking or running. All the money raised is going straight to make-a-wish foundation. And in order to encourage crew members to participate, there are prizes to be won for each leg of the crossing all the way toSingapore. I wish I had more time to participate. Since my work schedule doesn’t come out until the night before, it was hard for me to sign up for shifts days in advance. So that disadvantage already put a lot of people ahead of me… I’ll never catch up! So much for winning some awesome prizes…

 

April 17th, 2012, Day 60 –Two Months Mark at the Bahamas!

I suddenly have so many things to do. So many things have happened in the last two weeks that I’m starting to need to catch up on my personal work. First and foremost, we started the Atlantic crossing on Saturday. Second, my roommate officially moved out – 90% of her stuff is gone. The real noticeable difference is that her bed is now the couch, and I still sleep on the top bunk. Thirdly, my film was screened yesterday (on the 16^th) in Athens, Ohio! When I tell friends that I have a film in the festivals, they would ask what I’m doing on a ship. Honestly, I don’t know. In hindsight, I should have known that this is my festival year and should have attended all the festivals my film screened at so far. That would mean a Montreal trip last August, a Toronto trip, a Chicago trip in November (which I did partake), an Athens, Ohio trip now; and another Toronto trip in June for the 10^th Female Eye Film Festival. Come to think of it, Bill, Please! is doing pretty all right for a narrative fiction short!

Today is Tuesday –day 5 and our first port of this 16-day voyage:Nassau,Bahamas. This port is like a combination ofCozumel,Mexico, andGeorgetown,Grand Cayman: a little taste ofCaribbeanin the midst of British influences. Shawn, my Korean coworker who is also fromVancouver, and I decided to save the $78 on the crew tour (which was actually just a discounted entrance fee to the Atlantis water park) and walked. We obtained a copy of the tourist map and made our way towards the popular tourist destination:ParadiseIsland. TheAtlantisAdventureParkwas onParadiseIsland, which was about an hour’s walk (or a 10-minute ferry ride) from the ship’s anchorage. Due to the fact that most of Atlantis is a resort, access to the beaches around was limited. Prices of food and commodities there were ridiculous: $7 for one small pizza slice, and $21 for a small personal pizza. We decided to save on lunch money, so we saw as much of the resort as we could before catching the ferry back to the main strip where the ship is anchored.

I went out again for a light stroll after lunch. This time I stayed close to the ship. There was a post-office just outside the visitor’s centre. I took the opportunity and purchased some postcards to send to friends. Then back onto the ship I go… back to my job, my prison, my life for another five months.

 

April 6th, 2012, Day Forty-Nine –A Taste of Jamaica

The day before yesterday we were inFalmouth,Jamaica. I was able to get off the ship for three hours. The unfortunate part was that I didn’t have a companion with whom I can go explore.Jamaicais one of the ports where you wouldn’t want to (and probably shouldn’t) travel alone off to. But I braved the streets in search of some souvenir.

I soon regretted that decision. Vendors followed me in the streets and would ask you to look at their products. They didn’t bug off until you acknowledge them. There was this woman who came up to me and asked if she could show me her products. She kept following me until I finally said, “Okay, maybe on the way back.” Then she asked me to promise her. So I did. See how demanding they are? It was the only way to get rid of them. Just say yes and pray you don’t run into them later.

I managed to make it to the intersection of the main streets in town without having to stop to look at venders’ items. There was nothing but people and traffic: impatient cars stuck in the middle of the street honking and people yelling or shouting. One guy came up to me and started to make small talk. He asked if he could be my facebook friend. I laughed. Really? Taxi drivers who want to be my boyfriend and facebook friendship requests inJamaica? I asked him why it was so busy. He said, “it’s Wednesday!”

“Okay… so?”

“Everyone goes to the supermarket on Wednesdays!”

“Oh! Really? Why?”

“They just do.”

My puzzled face remained. Can’t they go any other days? Why go when everyone is going knowing that the market is probably packed?

“You wanna go? I can take you,” he continued.

Ha ha! You think I’m really going to have a stranger lead me down a strange path with a whole bunch of strangers?

“No, thanks, I should go back to the ship,” I turned around and walked away. But he was persistent and followed. And just when I thought I had gotten rid of one stranger, another showed up: the woman vender had returned. She insisted that I go with her to her table –well, I did promise her I’d go if I saw her on my way back- so I did. I went with her into an alley in between booths (uh-oh, what have I gotten myself into?) and then turned another corner (oh shit, I’m gonna die!!!) before reaching her rather small station. I didn’t see anything I liked, so I thanked her for showing me her crafts and turned to walk back to the main street.

But if you know the vendors outside of the port, you’d know that you can never make a way out without getting sidetracked – especially if you’re travelling alone. At the end of my stroll, I had spent money on a messenger bag with the wordJamaicaprinted in all sorts of colours, a hacky-sack, a native mask, and a Jamaican print bag…

 

March 30th, Day Forty-Two

 I should stop writing about my roommate. Sooner or later she’s going to discover my blog and will probably be embarrassed that I’m disclosing so many amusing details about her.

It’s hard to believe it’s the end of the month already. I’ve spent about two months circling the Caribbean, and tomorrow will be the start of the second-last voyage of this Caribbeanroute, which means that we start crossing the Atlantic Oceanin mid-April. So far I haven’t been able to explore extensively off-shore at ports because my breaks are never longer than four hours. I always stay close to the ship, and I always find a place to use the internet. It is crucial to have access to the internet because the ship internet SUCKS! I’m going to try to have more fun next week, when I’m off duty and can actually get off the ship.

Since I am ranting about how little travelling I’ve done, I might as well mention that I have not been to the French Quarter yet. I don’t think I can say I’ve been toNew Orleans until I’ve visited French Quarter. Guess that means I have to get off my ass and away from the internet and photo uploading and start walking.

 

March 29th, Day Forty-One – We’re Better Together

You know the feeling that sometimes there’s so much to say you don’t know what to say? Or you gotta use your discretion to decide what you CAN and CANNOT say? That’s how I feel right now. I’d like to keep my blog from turning into a tell-all tale (especially if I’m writing about people on the ship). I know there’s a lot I can say about my experience and how things work on the ship, but that would make a very “instructional” read – aka dry and boring. And I know I can recount certain nights and make this a very entertaining read (because interesting shit happened, believe me), but there is a potential that it could destroy people’s credibility.

Recently I spent most of my free time napping, hence the lack of entries. There is a group booking in the studio four nights of the week, and on those nights we have to strike and return the studio to its “home condition” at1 AM. So naps during the day are important; they are crucial to energizing me throughout the day.

My roommate just came home from a day out inCozumel. She smells like shea butter and looks like a bronze bombshell ready to own the runway. My friends are all envious of me, and I do realize that I am fairly lucky in my roommate pairings. I have a smoking hot roommate, and the best part about that is she’s got a great personality; one that is very easy to warm up to. We spend a fair amount of time together when we’re not working: we (try to) go to the mess together; we watch TV together and judge the people in shows when we’re both on our breaks; we go to the back deck and drink together; we go out in ports and enjoy the sunshine together; and most recently a chart-topper/shocker: we slept together. The two of us, side by side on a single mattress, sharing one pillow and one blanket. I will forever be amused and bewildered at how we managed to get a decent sleep that night. I mean, sure, we are both fairly slim in size (she is a bit taller than me, by the way), but still; one single bed!

Of course, our innocent night together didn’t occur without reason (though imagine the confidence booster- I don’t think a woman that hot would jump into bed with me at any given chance). To make a long story short, a friend got super wasted and he couldn’t get back into his room –turns out the battery of his door-key reader was dead. So my roommate, being the super nice person that she is, insisted that he stay on her bunk, and she’ll bunk with me. He couldn’t call security to open his door because he would probably fail the breathalyser test, and consequently get fired (Royal Caribbean has a very strict, zero-tolerance policy for alcohol over-consumption).

It was one of my most memorable nights on the ship thus far. The whole night (and the morning after, too) is a story I’d never be tired of telling! But perhaps this isn’t the best place to do so…

OKAY, YOU DIDN’T JUST READ WHAT I WROTE. NOTHING HAPPENED :P

 

March 22nd, Day Thirty-Four – Weeks that feel like months

It has been a month and four days since I first boarded the Voyager. Even though it’s only four weeks, it feels like I’ve been here for months. Time, like gravity, is a strange concept when you’re living and working on the ship. I can literally get up from bed fifteen minutes before call time and walk to the studio in less than a minute. In the same sense, you can get called into work when you’re taking a break in your room and would be expected to show up in five minutes or so (because, really, what else could you be doing that is more important than work? You did, ultimately, come on board for work; it’s not like you’re expected to have a life on the ship! Unless, of course, you tell them you’ve just taken a shower and is still undressed – in which case they’ll excuse you the trouble of putting on your uniform and find someone else who is more readily available.)

There’s also another significant change during the last two weeks: my first roommate, Adriana, has finished her contract and went home toPoland. My new roommate, Audrey, has happily settled into the bottom bunk while I remain on the top one. Audrey is a beautiful mix between French and Vietnamese/Chinese, but she doesn’t look Asian at all. She skates as a pair with Michael, a Frenchman who’s married to a Hungarian ice skater, who is also in the ice show. Audrey’s been working on the ships for about five years, and her boyfriend will be coming on board as a production manager in a few weeks (which means that I will soon have the cabin all to myself – she will be moving in with him)! Our room looks top-notch now; clean, tidy and welcoming, with the fridge stocked enough to have a cabin party any time we want.

What adds to her awesomeness is her personality. She is very friendly, approachable, and laid-back. Sometimes she has a ‘shit-all’ attitude, which makes her humourous and fun; and those qualities are a must-have on ships – otherwise your life would be miserable. The other day we were both bored in our room and the TV was on to help us kill time. In the middle of a program, she pulls out her nail care supplies and starts doing her nails. I asked if she had more colour selections to her nail polish, and she said she prefers if they looked clean and neutral. Then she asked to see my nails. I told her about my bad habit, and what does she do? Puts nail polish on them. I was surprised and amused. The last time my nails were polished was probably when I was five.

I was supposed to hang them out to dry and not do anything. But I got thirsty and hungry, so I made ice tea and fetched food from my shelf of junk food. She got irritated at my restlessness, and the nail polish on my thumb that had gotten chipped only added to her frustration. She said, “It’s nail time! You just have to sit and let it dry and not move,” to which we both laughed; her laughing at my clumsiness, and I at the silliness of having nail polish on my bite-ridden nails… it was all good, harmless fun at the end of the day.

 

March 14th, Day Twenty Six – Pieces of Meat (that you can’t cook)

Luddy, my best buddy on the ship, inspired the title of this entry. I originally had asked him to write a guest post because he likes meat (figuratively and literally speaking), but he politely declined because he feared it would be too dirty and inappropriate for my readers.

This would be a short post anyway. I’m really not in the mood to write (or do anything for that matter) after learning that a new friend I made recently got fired today. She is someone who I’d been watching at the back deck ever since I came on board. Besides her extreme beauty she had this wild personality and careless attitude that made her attractive. She is very confident and doesn’t care about what people say about her (or how they look at her). I couldn’t take my eyes off her every time I’m out with my friends. South Africans… they sure are a superb breed. Hot and saucy! (Did I mention that Luddy is South African, too? Like my eye candy, he is also one of those people who gets all the stares when he walks into a room.)

I was lucky that I got to boogie with her on the dance floor two nights before she was sent home. I told her that she probably doesn’t realize how beautiful she is, and to my surprise she smiled and said (in a sexy accent), “darling, beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, and then proceeded to refer me and her as ‘hotties’ who shouldn’t give a shit about all the men’s stares. Love. Her. Attitude.

Too bad she violated the policies (by being ‘involved’ with a guest) and got herself fired… I’m sure I’m not the only one who misses seeing her on the back deck. Ship life is not the same any more! And once again I’m reminded that I shouldn’t get attached to people on the ship… because sooner or later they will all leave, and you might never see them again!

 

March 9th, Day Twenty-One – A Story Continued

(…now I am back to finish telling you the story; backstage again, because my roommate is sleeping and I don’t want to disturb her [this is about twelve hours later, 9:30ish in the morning)

Okay, back to the galley and food pick-up. I was assigned to deliver the food yesterday (March 7th). There was a held-up at the galley; the order wasn’t complete. The chef didn’t make two trays of sandwiches, and two pitchers of orange juice weren’t on the trolley either. So I had to stay for about ten minutes for them to sort things out. One thing about the galley that bothers me is that even though they seem to always have excess crew, they don’t look very productive. You’d think that they would want guests to have their room service ASAP, but no, they don’t work very fast.

I decided to go back later for the sandwiches and deliver the rest first. About two minutes before I arrived at the theatre with the food, the head stage staff called to ask my whereabouts. I told her about the sandwich situation when I arrived. This is not the first time the galley’s screwed up our order, so she understood my delay. But she also told me the production manager’s theory about why I’m late when I go on the food run: whenever I step in the galley, the crew stops working and stares at me. Ha! I laughed and dismissed the theory quickly. Don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but I really doubt that that’s the reason.

It was a busy night. I had a lot of errands to run, but other stage staff were busy, too. So I ended up having to do the sandwich run myself when I had a 10-minute window before a show call. Lo and behold, when I walked into the galley and was led to the back where sandwiches were made, four or five crew members stopped what they were doing and looked up. It’s as if the crew who works there has never seen a woman before. I was especially aware of the dish-washing dude behind me. He was staring – REALLY staring, like if I put a piece of paper on my back, his gaze would burn a hole in the paper and pierce through my flesh. The other people also noticed him looking at me. They giggled and waved at him to get him to snap out of his gaze. It was only then that I realized that my production manager might not be so wrong after all…