The sense of romance was obliterated when I woke up the next morning. It was then that I discovered, after stumbling to the bathroom, that whoever the previous occupant of my room was, he was very fond of peeing on as much of the toilet seat as possible and then letting it dry to a crisp. Without being provided any cleaning products, I had to spend every bathroom visit from then on avoiding 50% of my toilet seat. It’s okay though, it complemented nicely with my sticky couch that came complete with a collection of toe nail clippings.
Deciding to see if the dining experience was any better I made my way to the mess hall. I had been designated to eat with the officers who were all from Eastern Europe (Poland, Latvia, Ukraine, and Russia). You’d think that if you were stuck on a boat for 9 months at a time you’d enjoy partaking in some friendly conversation. You’d be wrong.
Not once in my two weeks did any officer start a conversation with me or say more than “good appetite.” And it wasn’t just me, or a language barrier. Sometimes I’d walk in halfway through a meal and there’d be 5 men sitting in a room, eating, and not saying a word.
Once I found out conversation was not going to be a part of any of my meals I aimed at eating when I knew I’d be alone. I found this less awkward especially considering that the engineer designated to sit beside me had some of the worst B.O. I’d ever come across. So, when the choices came down to eating alone, or eating silently beside a sweaty smelly man that makes my meal taste like armpit, I chose alone.
The crew on the other hand was the best part of the trip. While the officers may have been tight-lipped Europeans, the crew was all welcoming and all Filipino. Knowing even less English than the officers, the crew were always keen to strike up conversation. But more than talking they were keen of singing.
On my first full night at sea it was a crew member’s birthday and I was brought to the karaoke party that was thrown. Now usually, I only get involved with karaoke after some serious coxing from friends and alcohol. But hell, how many times am I on a cargo ship on the Pacific singing karaoke with a Filipino crew, right? It wasn’t long before I was busting out my renditions of Eight Days a Week, Bohemian Rhapsody, and Ain’t No Mountain High Enough. And I only needed to be a little drunk!
That being said, a little drunk goes along way when in the hangover department when $2.88 bottles of wine were your poison.
Unfortunately, the crew had to work most of the time so I had to find ways of amusing myself, which was quite difficult. The swimming pool was just two strokes long and was only filled with water sporadically. The gymnasium consisted simply of 2 barbells and a ping pong table which was quite useless without anyone else to play with.
I had come prepared with an arsenal of movies to watch, and thousands of pages to read but there are only so many hours of film you can watch and so many pages of text you can read in a row before nothing is interesting or enjoyable and you just read or watch because it’s there.
With a dearth of physical activities, social opportunities, or mental stimulation, it meant that I spent the vast majority of my day alone in a room that constantly swayed from side to side. If you think that sounds like it would get boring quickly, you would be right. I think it was day 5 when I realized in horror that I still had 10 days to go. I had to stay in this room for twice as long as I’d already been in it!
So unless mind crushing boredom and sitting in a swaying room for a fortnight sounds like a blast to you, please, for the love of god, never take a cargo ship across the Pacific Ocean.
