Oct 28.2009 - At Sea

DKP : The first day we set out on the second half of our journey. 12 days sailing around Europe is not a long time, it feels to me like a fleeting flash of a moment in my life. A feeling that becomes common on these ships. For the crew, they tell me that time is relative, they tell me that days to them become 6 month contracts in what may feel like a month or two on land. This fascinates me and I have learned this from both sides this year.

When we got off the Splendor after 51 days, on March 23 of 2009, neither one of us knew what to do with ourselves. We watched the ship sail away without us from a distant hill overlooking Pier 39 in San Francisco, tears streaming down our faces. Our friends that endured 3 strains of virus', 5 Medical Emergencies (Bright Star Alerts), 1 Man Lost At Sea, Tsunamis in Acapulco, wind delays at the bottom of the world, missed ports and penguins and a record number of cranky guests refusing to pay their service gratuities... our friends were setting sail to a new chapter filled with new stories... without us.

This was sobering at best and at worst, it left us wondering what to make of our lives without it all. Without the nightly gatherings in the Cigar Jazz Club or Crew Bar or the occassional Disco Party. Every night we gatherered... sometimes all we did was stare at each other and the walls or the distance, and this was more comforting that I can describe. The day had had it's way with them and with us in different ways, them working 14 hr days with 3 hrs sleep and us pioneering yet another way to run our internet radio company from a ship floating twice across the Equator. Somehow we had plenty of ground to find each other on.

You see, this THING, this community is highly addictive... more than a few crew call it a "drug"... and I would agree to some point. People from over 40 countries working together in the closest of quarters in the most sheltered of conditions (room and board paid and all monies tax-free)... this is NOT the real world by any stretch, but it becomes a version of life that is very hard to quit, even for Sandy and I.

The most common thing we are told at the end of someone's contract is how burned out they are and how badly they wish to go home to see their friends and family and get grounded. However, a mere week or so after they sleep in and begin the recovery, thoughts of their daily routines and their "teammates" begin to creep in. 11am is the time their Paizannos are working the Lido, 5pm they are headed to the Dining Room to set up for 1st seating, and by midnight they are in Crew Bar blowing off steam... without them.

Even Sandy and I learned the routine and we missed it and we thought daily of our friends and where they were now. We couldn't seem to shut off the thoughts, so we went back. We had a blast but we begin to see the outline of how living the ship's life, a life without too many real life consequences, begins to take you over. It takes a big effort to keep it all in perspective.

For me, I've always had a pull towards this life on these ships but my Father seem to know better and pushed me toward Art School instead. But here I am, AT SEA, and not really wanting to see that final port. A feeling worth examining, a lesson worth learning for sure but I still don't want the journey to end... for now.