Land Vs. Ship Life
20th 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?
