Cruise Ship Medical Papers

Cruise Ship Medical Papers

Gathering all my paper work together to return to ships, I stupidly thought I had another six months on my medical papers. Turns out, I only have four months left. Nowadays you have to return to the ship with a medical for the entire contract. You can’t renew your medical half way through your contract like before and the paperwork is only valid for two years. So, I’ve now got to renew my medical papers before I can return to ships. Is someone trying to tell me something?

What’s a cruise ship medical? Basically it’s a huge list and group of tests. First round is always the quick fire “yes or no” round where you’re asked about 60 questions like:

Do you wear glasses/contact lenses?

Have you ever had surgery?

Do you take any medication?

The only question they don’t ask, is what size underwear you wear!

You’ll also have a quick eye and colour blindness test.

Next are the blood tests. Usually the doctor will take about four vials of blood. The tests: complete bloody analysis (sugars, cholesterol, white and red blood cell levels etc.), sexually transmitted diseases (remember, cruise ships are knocking shops at sea!), drugs tests and finally a HIV test.

Round 3 consists of your reactions and getting your knee cap hit with a medical hammer, much to the doctor’s amusement! Also, one or two chest X-rays to confirm that you don’t have TB (tuberculosis).

If you’re female, you can expect a pregnancy test too. Don’t forget, you’ll also be signing an agreement stating you won’t get pregnant while working on cruise ships. If you do, you’ll be fired quicker than you can say “Wham Bam, Thank You Ma’am”!

That’s not the only thing girls will have to do. The check list also requires you to have a mandatory pap test. In my humble opinion, a trip to the gynaecologist for a job or to return to work is slightly degrading! This in many countries would be illegal or straddling between legal and illegal. Having said that, some doctors will just tick the pap test off, giving you the all clear, without you having to spread your legs! My first doctor did. Unfortunately, not all will!

Once that is done and you’ve handed over your money (usually around 3-500 US dollars), you’re ready to return or join cruise ships as a crew member/staff.

Prices obviously vary between countries and medical facilities. A friend of mine, Lee, had his medical papers renewed in Miami at the song of $300. Myself and many others used a recommended private doctor in England and paid approximately $480 (300GBP). According to Zoran, a previously team mate, it costs around €150 in Serbia.

Being in Uruguay, I didn’t think I’d have too much problems in renewing my cruise ship medical at a good price. How wrong can you get?

Going to my parent’s hospital, Mautone in Maldonado, I spoke to the head receptionist.  I know Magdalena very well due to my Mum’s extensive stays, treatments, tests/result collecting at the hospital. She’s the one to talk to! After about thirty minutes of waiting and Magdalena making a series of calls and running around for answers, I got a final price. Because I wasn’t a member hospital, I’d have to stump up a fee. Not a problem, I was expecting it. Jumping through a few hoops, Magdalena managed to get the price down for me: I was Uruguayan, lived in the country and area and my parents are “VIP” members. The final price, $750! That’s without the pap test!

Driving around, we stopped off a couple more medical facilities for prices. Unfortunately, no one could do the whole shebang. I’d have to go to numerous different clinics and labs for testing. Just to see a doctor to fill out two pieces of papers (Quick fire “yes or no” round) would cost between $60-80. No one had the slightest idea how much the blood and other tests would cost. They did, however, let me know that it’d be “very expensive”. There's also no telling when you'll get the results back.

My other Uruguayan friends and Hernan from Argentina all had their medicals done for free because they are members of hospitals/health clinics.

Back at home and speaking to my parents, it’s an extensive, time consuming process just to become members of Mautone hospital. Also, I’d have to have the majority of the tests done (you don’t get the results though) to become members.

Flights to the States are also on the rise, thanks to South America going into summer/high season and the monopoly the aviation companies flying from this part of the world have. Unlike Europe, there’s no competition between rival companies. A one-way ticket to Miami is $1,300 plus.

At the moment, I feel like I’m going around in circles and not getting anywhere. If I paid $750 for the medical plus a flight to the States (if I’m sent there) I’m looking at $2,050 minimum before I even start work and earning. Depending on the ship I’m sent to, that’s between 1.5-2 month’s work to get out of the red.

More than ever, I really wish I was back in Europe. It may be up Shit Creek without a paddle, but it certainly does have a large amount of advantages!

I’ve been dealt a pretty shitty hand and not quite sure which card to play next. The big, multi-million Dollar question is: What do I do? Is it financially possible for me to go back to working on cruise ships? I wonder how most people in my position pay for it all. Keeping in mind I’ve just had surgery for a work related “injury”, it is really worth going back to cruise ships on both financial and health levels? Or will I just be burning a great hole in my pocket, especially if more surgery could be on the cards and messing up my wrist some more?

Argentina to Brazil

Argentina To Brazil

22^nd August 2012

Last night didn’t exactly go smoothly. I was up half the night feeling ill. It must be a cold or flu coming on. Just what you want while traveling! All I want is my nice warm, comfy bed to snuggle up in and sleep.

We’re leaving Puerto de Iguazu, crossing the Argentinian board and into Brazil to Foz do Iguacu. The bus ride is only eight Argentinian pesos, about US$2. Eve and her friend Steph should be arriving late tonight.

Checking out of our little cabin at 10.15, we dragged our cases down the road towards the bus terminal. Quickly checking in a few of the bus companies, none had a bus route to Montevideo, or anywhere in Uruguay for that matter. One company suggested I take three long distance bus rides, two across Argentina and one to Montevideo. Total time on the bus: 30 hours. No, thank you!

It’s hard to believe that no one has a bus service to Uruguay. It’s the only South American country they don’t travel to. Ok, we know the place is a tiny dot on the map but, come on!

First stop on the bus was to pass through Argentinian customs. Luggage must go with you too. It’s a two minute stop, in one door, passport stamped, out another and back on the bus.

Two minutes later and we make our second, longer stop. This time at Brazilian customs. All of us had to fill out Entry Visa papers, get that stamped plus your passport and then wait for another bus. There was a large group of us waiting outside Brazilian customs for about 45 minutes for the bus to arrive. All of us huddled under a tree, staying out of the fierce sun.

Loading our luggage onto the bus again, we started the final part of the bus ride into Foz do Iguacu. Compared to the Argentinian side, the Brazilian is incredibly run down and surprisingly, there’s obviously a lot of poverty.

Not long after we’d entered Brazil there were a couple of surgeries offering everything from implants to botox to liposuctions! I couldn't help but smile to myself.

All of a sudden, the driver slammed on the brakes and the bus screeched harshly to an abrupt halt. Hernan and I were standing and had to quickly grab onto something, anything in front of us. I went crashing into a metal railing in front of me. Turns out, someone on a push bike had cycled out from a side street and crossed over the main road without looking! The bus very narrowly missed him!

Off the bus we had to find out where the hell our hostel is. Hostel Klein. We didn’t have an address or contact number. Hernan popped into the Tourist Information Centre at the bus terminal and got a pamphlet for Hostel Klein. It looks like it’s a well-known place. We couldn’t call as we didn’t have any Reales for the phone, so we decided it’d be best to just get a cab as it was too far to walk.

Walking down the road, looking for a taxi, we bumped into someone who worked for the Tourist Information Centre, who took us to the taxi rank and called for a cab. While waiting we were told a few do's and don’ts about Foz do Iguacu and Brazil.

In Brazil, it’s illegal to hail taxis and for a taxi to pick you up at the side of the road. This is apparently due to the large amount of illegal taxis, many of whom will rob you of everything. The only place to get a taxi is at a designated taxi rank.

Don’t get a taxi over the bridge from Foz do Iguacu to Cuidad del Este, Paraguay. Cuidad del Este is a famous tax free area, popular with tourists shopping for cheap electrical items. Many cross the Brazilian and Argentinian boarders simply to shop for the day. Getting back to the story, many taxis, while crossing over to Brazil or Paraguay, depending on which way you’re going, get held up by armed gangs, half way over the bridge. When you think of Brazil, you mainly think about thieves being tooled up with guns, but we are told they just carry knives, big knives and they won’t think twice about using them on you either. Nice to know! Needless to say, you’ll be robbed of absolutely everything! Of course, the taxi drivers, some legal while others not so legal, are in on the deal and will contact the thieves before setting off.

Fede’s Portuguese has amazed all of us. We imagined he spoke a fair amount due to working on the Mariner of the Seas during Brazilian season, but we certainly didn’t expect him to speak so much and have the ability to hold a conversation about anything other than taking someone’s photo!

Driving through the town, well, city, we headed towards our hostel. Foz do Iguacu is a rundown mess compared to Puerto de Iguazu, Argentina. Poor and run down. Finding the hostel didn’t take too long, but we weren’t exactly optimistic when we saw where we were heading. The area looked one step up from a shanty town, in fact, there were a few partially made (mismatch tin roofs, make shift doors etc.) houses around us.

Pulling up outside Hostel Klein, we were letting off more than a few nervous giggles and “where the hell have the girls booked us into?” The taxi driver really knew how to boost our optimism, telling us “This place isn’t safe. Do you want me to take you somewhere closer to the city centre? The city is dangerous, but this is even worse. You can’t go out here during the evening. Are you sure you don’t want me to take you somewhere else? Somewhere better?” Declining, we pulled our bags out of the car boot and headed towards the entrance of Hostel Klein feeling rather dubious, I might add.

Hostel Klein, the first thing that you notice about the place is the two metre high wall surrounding the perimeter. On top of that, are the two sets of wires on top of the wall with numerous warning signs “Electric – May Cause Death”. Ringing the intercom with camera, we were allowed through the large security gate to be met at the front door. As you can imagine, we were glowing with enthusiasm!

Going to our “room” to drop our luggage off, Hernan summed it up in one word: Orphanage. We were staying in the equivalent of an orphanage. One large room (which we later found out was originally a garage) with 13, small single beds lining the walls. In one corner was a small bathroom for us. 

As it’s out of season, the five of us, when the girls arrive, will probably have the room to ourselves. Thank God! I may sound like a snob, but I don’t fancy sharing a room with a bunch of strangers, especially with a Canon 5D Mark II stuffed into my backpack! As Hernan commented on the way over “you’re not cut out for this type of traveling.”

Next stop was the shopping centre to change Dollars to Reales and get something to eat. We were starving!

Imagine this room with twice as many beds!

Land Vs. Ship Life

Land Vs. Ship Life

20^th May 2012

The sun is shining and the rays are warm on my pale, freckled skin. Instead of Uruguay going into Autumn, it feels more like Spring is around the corner. Sitting on my bed, windows open and floods of light fill the room, eliminating the darkness. The sing-song chirping from the birds and occasional hum from passing traffic along the quite street blur out the silence.

Looking out the window, the only blue in sight is that of the sky with the odd splodge of whiteness provided by slowly drifting clouds.  Trees standing tall, all green leafed and swaying lightly in the soft breeze. It’s a sign of land, of being surrounded by something solid. A complete contrast from being surrounded by two toned blues, one for the sky and the other for the sea. The breeze even smells different but it’s a scent I can’t put my finger on. It’s sweeter, pollen infiltrated. It’s definitely not a damp, salty sea breeze.

It’s been over two weeks since I debarked from Disney Magic. Sea life, or better, ship life was temporarily over and land life, or real life as some like to call it, began. I was out of the bubble provided by cruise ships and life at sea and placed into reality where the masses reside.

As I’ve said on numerous occasions, ship life is living life in the fast lane. You’re living on a German motorway without a speed limit. Your life is planned for you, there’s even a thirty minute slot with the word “EAT” written on your schedule. Ship life moves so fast that you don’t have a chance to sit back, think, reflect or appreciate any of it. Very rarely do you have time alone to contemplate reflecting on how things are going. When you do have some free time, you’re hell-bent on sleep or getting on land. No matter what happens, you still have work at the front of your mind.

Now, in the real world, life moves much, much slower. Life in Uruguay, during low season, almost grinds to a halt. No one is here to tell you what to do, unless, of course, you’ve had to return, like me, to your parent’s house. There’s no breakfast, lunch or dinner window. There’s a fridge stuffed with juices, cold meats, cheese, eggs and other goodies that were hard to come by on ships. Kitchen cupboards housing bread, tins and packet soups, uncooked pasta… all there and with unlimited access for the taking. I’d almost forgotten what a saucepan looked like!

Money. Money is another funny thing. We work for it, some live for it. On land, I’m not one of the many cogs, turning a wheel of a much bigger, money orientated, money printing machine. I am just… well, here and feeling somewhat alien to the process of real life.

The other day was the first time I’d been behind the wheel of a car since our outing to the Mayan Ruins in Cozumel, Mexico. Before leaving the house my Dad presented me with an everyday task, paying the electricity bill. Staring blankly at the piece of paper with a mass of letters and numbers I wondered what to do with it. How do you pay an electricity bill? I had to ask, much to my father’s amusement. Getting an explanation of the process, made me feel almost childlike, much younger than my twenty-five years. It’s not like I haven’t paid a bill before, on the contrary, I’d handed over my hard earned cash on many occasions for different subjects – car insurance, rent, mobile phone and so on. It wasn’t the first time I’d paid the electricity or water bill either, but the method of how to make the payment had vacated me. It’s not something I have to even think about for a split second on ship. This, obviously will have many clasping their hands together and wishing they could afford such luxury of not having to think about paying off bills. To me, it was somewhat of an embarrassment. Left to my own devices and I’d probably be sitting in a candle lit house, illogically assuming it was a power cut.

Internet, connecting us with friends and to endless amounts of information at the touch of a button, is no longer precious gold dust on land. And, it’s not just any old internet connection, but a super duper fast one too! In fact the internet on land is as common as a red bus in London, used and abused by a vast, ever growing population without a second’s thought. Skype calls to friends and family are now crystal clear rather than crackly and broken up. The moving picture provided by the webcam no longer stops and starts, temporarily freezing that person’s expression into something out of Picasso’s The Scream painting.

Walking around a supermarket, instead of frantically sprinting from aisle to aisle in search of items, even comes with a strange sensation. Before, having worked in a supermarket, I’d want to run in and out as quickly as possible, snatching the necessary items off the shelves. Now, I find myself meandering aimless through the supermarket, combing the aisles and gazing at the brightly coloured packaging. “Ooooh, what’s what?” “Arrrr what’s this?” picking things up like an eager child, reading the back, turning it around and upside down, fascinated, only to find out it’s Tyler’s brown sugar in a new packaging.

Purchasing coffee the other day was almost overwhelming yet highly amusing!! There is one coffee on board the ship. It smells like roasted bark rather than coffee beans… tastes like it too, in fact. Standing, staring, mesmerized by the amount on offer yet not knowing the difference. My eyes were drawn by all the colours and oversized wording “33% free!” “New, improved taste”. I never realized how many options were available for coffee.

Did I want the filtered coffee or instant? Instant.

Regular, strong or extra strong? Strong, I think.

Nescafe, Bracafe, Tiendas Inglesa’s own brand etc.? Erm… Nescafe – it’s the only brand I’ve heard of.

Sweetened or regular? Hold on a minute, this is getting like Starbucks!!

Walking out, swinging my plastic bag containing my jar of coffee, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Maybe I should rephrase that: I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. I’d never really touched coffee on land, always preferring tea. Everyone else just grabs what they are after without really glancing and there I was; dwindling down my options to find a jar of coffee. Coffee. Not properties, cars or cameras, but coffee! Heaven forbid I should be let lose onto more serious matters in life!

Secretly I’m intrigued to know what my reaction would be if I wondered into a shopping centre, or mall as the Americans call them, having not stepped inside one for… oh, 14 months!

It seems strange how someone can miss such simple acts or chores such as walking or jumping in the car and driving to do the weekly shop. Who would have thought that you could miss such a thing?

Living on ships you start referring to countries as if they were a town, supermarket or even a day of the week. Lathering up your sponge, you realize you’re low on shower gel. “Hmmm… I’ll get some more in Cozumel” you think to yourself.

“Let’s go to the beach this cruise” “where?” “St. Thomas?”

“I want to buy a new lens” “You could get one in St. Maarten or wait for a couple more weeks and buy one in New York”.

Waking up in Port Canaveral, going to sleep in the middle of the ocean to wake the next morning in Grand Cayman, oddly enough, became the norm.

Settling into the pillows, propped up by the headboard, looking out the window; I can’t help but feel out of touch with reality, which of course, I am. During a lengthy Skype call to a friend I haven’t heard from in a year made me think of a few things, normal things besides coffee brands.

OK, so land is slow going, Uruguay more so, but I can’t help but miss real life and everyday tasks. Thinking  back to my English and Spanish life, I couldn’t help but miss aspects of it, one more so than the rest. Living in England, my phone would bleep with an incoming text message:

“I’m finishing work in 20 minutes. Can I come over for a cup of tea and a chat?”

The phone calls or Facebook messages asking groups of friends to meet up in a pub one night, on the weekend for a couple of drinks. Weekends and days off became a myth while working on ships.

In many ways, you could also say that I miss the usual 9-5 job, having time to go home after work or to the cinema, or do whatever you like. You have a bad day at work, you go home. Tomorrow is another day. You don’t live at work like on ships. Yet, it seems like something so small and so simple which you once had and gave it up to travel the world, for free, meet new people and earn tax free money. Now I’m questioning whether I want the simplicity of it all back. Friends located nearby, a short walk or drive away, not spread out across the globe. Having a cup of tea with a friend over Skype in England, while you’re sitting in Uruguay, just doesn’t have that same effect, does it? There’s more separating you two than a kitchen table and plate of biscuits that’s for sure!

One of my biggest concerns or goals is having a base, a home. My own little home, wherever in the world that may be. Somewhere to come home to, whether it’s from six months at sea or a 9-5 job.

This urgency or desperation for a base has plagued me for many years. Somehow I think the problem gradually started building up when I was 9. My parents moved me from England to Spain where I spent 14 years of my life.

I moved to England to see what the Motherland held for me, not a lot to be honest, but I got a better sense of friendship and close knit communities there. Towards the end of my two year stay in England, the parents relocated to Uruguay, it all happened quickly and almost at short notice. Maybe I wasn’t paying the right amount of attention when they kept bringing up Uruguay?

Next stop was my first contract and after a couple of months, I felt at home with my Mariner of the Seas team, a group of friends, almost family like, and a close knit group tied in one. After six months there, I flew to Uruguay. The only people I knew were my parents. After 3 months I scratched the surface of getting to know the 60plus year olds at the frightful boring for the youthful, English Speaking Club. The highlight of my week in Uruguay were the three of four hours spent with friend on board Splendour of the Seas.

My work on Disney Magic was short lived, beginning and ending within three months.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not placing the blame on my parents from shifting me out of England when I was younger. It’s purely a massive insecurity of my own after being moved, or moving myself from country to country, place to place, ship to ship even. At the end of the contract, I’m never too sure where I’m supposed to be going and let’s face it, on a lighter note, who at twenty-five wants to live with their parents? I had high expectations for myself and would have like to have seen myself living in a little house of my own and strangely enough, gratefully paying off a mortgage like a normal person. To have my home, my base is the goal. Financial crisis or no financial crisis.

Of course, this base insecurity, is purely an insecurity that I, and I alone can overcome but it’s one that has been harbouring for a while now, years in fact. Those who understand the importance of having a base and the need for one, are those who have lived the same or similar lifestyle to me.

 Now the big question, the hardest one to answer is going to take much more than just a bit of reflection, thinking and planning. There are many perks and drawbacks to both ship and real, land life.

To those on land, it may seem crazy to even think of such a preposterous question. Those at sea or who have experienced life on cruise ships, in whichever department they have worked in, will completely understand the question but no doubt divided by their answers. The question is:

Do I want to go back to sea or get back in touch with real life?

Medical Debark

Medical Debark

4^th May 2012

Over the past couple of days there has been a question mark lingering over whether I’d definitely be leaving Disney Magic in Port Canaveral. It wasn’t until the afternoon before Port Canaveral, while the ship was docked in Castaway Cay, that I received my flight details to Montevideo, Uruguay. My original flight details, received the day before, were to London Gatwick. Someone at Image HQ in Miami hadn’t changed my address or home airport to Punta del Este, Uruguay, keeping it as London, England. The whole process has been frustrating to say the least. The second confirmation that I was leaving was shoved underneath my cabin door that night. My sign-off checklist.

The sign-off party last night had been a laugh, the characters had turned up and the photographers stayed for a while but most were on Morning Sale and left fairly early. Two of the Uruguayans turned up, a bit disappointing as I wanted to say bye to the others. Having said that, I understand people on ships come and go. The tough work schedules will still be in place the next day. Those who stay, have to carry on like usual. It's just another part of ship life.

Leaving at 03.00 I bumped into two friends from Bar, Angel and Jose. Giving each of them a bear hug and exchanging email addresses, I walked back to the cabin. While walking the I-95 I didn’t have the same sense of homeliness I had on board the Mariner of the Seas. In a way, I was grateful for that, as it made leaving the Mariner of the Seas harder. I did, however, still have some good friends so it would be sad leaving and not knowing when you’d see them again. Such is ship life, I guess.

Waking up at the ludicrous time of 05.30, I dragged on my comfy clothes; jogging bottoms, top and baggy hoody, brushed my teeth, messily tied my hair up and sleepily staggered to the Walt Disney Theatre to meet Carolee for Immigration. US Immigration at 05.45… why, oh why!?

Thankfully, I had Carolee signing off with me. We had our checklists to do so we marched around the ship getting things signed off and so on. It's amazing the amount of things you had to do before signing off a ship.
On Royal Caribbean ships, you did it all the night before. On Disney you’re expected to work like usual until you actually sign off! Last night I worked until 01.00. The poor dining room staff were still serving breakfast to the guests, in between running down to the crew office in the nick of time to get papers signed!

Paying off what we owed, we had to get a stamp from wardrobe, even though Disney don’t supply our uniforms. Next stop was to the lab to find Csaba to sign the box stating our cabins were clean, tidy, ready for the next person and nothing was missing.

Once everything was signed, we had about an hour to spare. With nothing else to do, we headed to the Crew Mess for breakfast. Knowing it’d be the last time (for a while) that I’d be eating the ship food, it made it more bearable.

Just as we were finishing our coffees, a group of new hires came in. Smiling, I couldn’t help but remember when that was me, three months ago to the day. I am signing off on my 3month anniversary! “Poor sods. They don’t know what they are letting themselves in for.” I commented to Carolee. Amused, she replied “they look happy”. For now anyway, we laughed.

Meeting in Sessions (the guests' Jazz bar), we filled out some paperwork for US Customs and I had to declare my new camera. If I didn’t and I was searched, I’d be charged tax and duty. Lovely. Totalling up how much my possessions were worth, I was shocked at how much I was carrying!!

Debarking, the moment you get off the ship, is like a huge weight being lifted off your shoulders. It’s hard to explain the excitement, the rush and relief you feel. No more hard work, false smiles, tiny cabins and a life "on show" or as Disney liked to call it “On Stage”. You’re heading to a place far from everything you’ve lived and worked for during your contract. Home for most. A comfy bed, no need for Mickey Mouse alarms, no more 30 minute power naps. A place where you can relax and chill out in the slow paced “real world”… before getting bored and willing your vacation to end so you could return to the fast paced way of ship life! 

Grabbing our suitcases, we struggled with them towards the Disney bus. How I managed to balance two suitcases on top of one another and pull it to the bus left handed, I’ll never know. Carolee helped me chuck my two suitcases into the belly of the bus before we slung hers in too. We were giggling about the amount of baggage we had but compared to some, we were travelling relatively light! There were people with four suitcases! Someone was dragging along something resembling a giant chiller crammed with stuff. I bet the airlines love us crewmembers!

After a quick cigarette, I was nestled into my seat next to Carolee. The bus pulled off and there was an almighty eruption of applause. This is it... We’re free and on our way home!

It wasn’t long until both Carolee and I had drifted off to sleep, occasionally awoken by the shouts of overexcitement from the Scouser (someone from Liverpool, England) sat directly behind us. Reaching the airport, Carolee looked like she was about to throttle the girl. “Oh my God! I can’t wait to have fish and chips when I’m home. Oh my God! And I big dessert. Oh, and a proper curry!” and so the high pitched, almost hysterical, voice whistled on. One look at Carolee’s face – “if only looks could kill”.

Pulling our luggage off the bus and to the sidewalk, Carolee went in search for a trolley. Neither of us could pull or carry our cases for very long. It was surprising how much of Orlando International Airport I remember. Carolee returned with the trolley costing an unbelievable, non-returnable $5. I’m still so used to trollies either being free or costing a returnable 1 euro or 1GBP.

Carolee was able to check in straight away. Luckily for her, she didn’t have a lengthy wait for her flight. It was probably around 11am by the time we arrived at the airport. We found where I’d finally be checking in, but, of course, with ten hours still to wait, my check-in was closed. Pushing the trolley around, we found somewhere to have something to eat.

Within a couple of hours it was time for Carolee to make her way to security before heading to her gate. Giving Carolee a hug, I’d miss her but she was right, she needed a vacation. Carolee was shattered. Her attempts at fake crying, to embarrass me infront of everyone failed miserably. Instead, it cracked me up. Her sense of humour and hilarious impressions of everyone would be missed but they are memories I won’t be forgetting anytime soon!

I’m overly grateful for the help Carolee gave me at the airport. Without her, I’d still be outside the terminal, struggling with my luggage and a bandaged up wrist!

On my own, I had a wonder around before finding out when my check-in desk would open. Although it didn’t bother me in the slightest, I wouldn’t have minded unloading my suitcases. The check-in would open four hours before my flight’s scheduled departure. Only another four hours to kill before checking in then!

Settling down, I remembered Kate telling me there was free wi-fi at Orlando International Airport. She was right! Finding somewhere to sit and plugging my laptop in, I surfed the net, checked my Facebook, left messages left, right and centre, and called the parents. In between, I sat watching the world pass by, or in some cases, people running in a panic to get to their gate.

After a couple of hours, I nipped into a bookstore to see if there was anything of interest for my Dad. English books in Uruguay are gold dust! I picked up a couple of magazines and a newspaper for my Mom before grabbing a coffee from Starbucks.

Settling down again, I surfed the net and watch people go to and fro. A few guests from the cruise ship past. Some looked at me oddly, recognising a crew member but questioning themselves as to whether it really was. Quickly putting my head down, I secretly hoped they wouldn't recognize or notice me.


Strangely enough, there was a Disney Store situated a couple of metres away from me. Sitting outside was a model of Snow White, perched upon a throne with a space for people to sit next to her. I was amazed that people who’d just been on the cruise and met the real Snow White, were insistent that their children sit next to the model to have their photo taken. I’d have thought they’d have been sick to the back teeth of Disney and completely pictured out. How wrong was I? Although, some kids seemed to agree with me, as they kicked and screamed while their parents plonked them down next to Snow White.

Sitting around hour after hour wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. In fact, it was the complete opposite. After three months of having my life run for me according to a schedule, it was so peaceful sitting around, doing very little, with nowhere to go in a hurry.

Time to check-in soon rolled around and already there was a queue of Brazilians. I was amazed by some of the luggage people were taking with them. I thought some of the crew members were travelling too heavy. They have nothing on the Brazilians! Porters with massive trollies were coming along wheeling large numbers of oversized suitcases for small families!

I laughed at myself for worrying about having two cases, only to find myself unconsciously counting how many baggage items others were bringing to the check-in desk. One family in particular made me laugh. Two adults pushing pushchairs with children aged maybe 5-7. How many suitcases did they have? 11 morbidly obese, bursting at the seams suitcases! In addition, the lady was carrying a handbag big enough to stuff her two children inside! Only the Brazilians…

After a couple more hours waiting, sitting around and calling the parents on Skpe, it was time to say goodbye to America and make my way through security. Soon I’d be up in the air and into the first leg of the long journey home.

Goodbye America. Uruguay, here I come!