Put out to deep sea… [Part 1]
Working and living six months onboard a cruise ship.
Are we really able to fit in and adopt every way of living ?
When I started doing my interviews and what will follow after signing a contract with a reputable British Cruise line as a Pastry Chef,
I didn’t really know what to expect
once on board…
And so, let me tell you…
What we don’t mention.
What we don’t think.
What I discovered.
What I lived and experienced.
After giving me only 3 days notice, on January 16th, 2019, I accept to join and embark the ship in the Caribbean.
Barbados,
is the only real pied-a-terre so far.
I’m already feeling lost in the huge depot where a British officer is in charge to collect my passport…
My passport ?!
The document symbolizing
my freedom…
He looks impressed for a second :
« I’ve never seen one like that ! »
« What do you mean ? »
« I think… you’re the first French woman working on the ship. Congratulations ! »
My frozen features give nothing away.
But stunned, my heartbeat quickens and blood rushes to my head.
1 900 crew members.
60% are from India. 30% from the Philippines. And… the rest of us.
Just a handful of “white people”, they call us. Most of them, the highly ranked ones.
I cannot wait to discover more about this micro-society, but he pushes me towards the ship.
Everything is getting faster !
I can’t find anything through this labyrinth of gangways.
The panic slowly takes over me.
A turnaround day…
The day where,
this massive ship,
a floating monster measuring up to 400 000 cubic meters finally moors to the dock to disembark 3 800 passengers.
As well as suitcases and food loading for the next cruise.
24 hours
throughout
we walk through people,
we attempt to avoid the crowd.
Gangways are refilling little by little and holds are becoming a real maze…
It’s the right time, to observe
the human anthill in action…
For the really first time in my life, I don’t have
any
point of reference…
I have to learn how to live into the holds,
the guts of the ship.
Without access to the passengers world, isolated, we are not allowed to mix with them if our job doesn’t permit it.
So, I try to create for myself a
nest.
A place where I can unwind, recover and find myself for a few minutes.
My cabin ?
8m² without a porthole where we have to share the most valuable thing :
our privacy…
After a few weeks
I start feeling dizzy
I am suffocating
I usually end my shift at 11:30 p.m.
However, most of the time, I don’t have the strength to take off my uniform and so, I collapse on my bunk bed.
… What I am doing here ?!
My work…
13 hours per day…
7 days a week…
There will be no day off for the next six months.
« You’re in charge of the afternoon tea onboard. Your yield will have to be between 2300 and 2500 scones per day. »
I don’t realize yet but this individual British cake will become day after day my obsession and then my hell…
« 300 tarts and 500 cookies. »
continues my Pastry Chef.
“Galley”
As we call the kitchen in a ship.
Profitability,
Productivity,
Efficiency,
are the watchwords.
In the evening, during the service, the pastry section is becoming a
real jungle.
Over the continuous humming of motors, an army of waiters start screaming to get their orders.
They are shuffling along, pushing their way through the crowd to be the first to get their tray of plates.
In the production section,
we burn ourselves,
we cut ourselves,
at the first careless fraction of a second.
Movements are sometimes less accurate as we work fast pace…
Time goes on…
I lose
track of time
and weekdays very quickly.
It’s probably better like that.
We know which day it is by the port of call we are at…
I smile.
As every Monday comes by French people always wish to be on Friday so they can enjoy their weekend.
Here. No choice.
We have to be there
every single day.
All of us. No exception.
How can we complain when everyone is sticking it out ?
Happily, going ashore is my real
pressure relief valve.
Home is where the anchor drops…
Barbados, Saint Lucia, Bonaire, Aruba, Curacao, Antigua, Saint Maarten, Saint Kitts, Dominica, Grenada, La Martinique…
When we have a port day, during my daily two-hours break, I usually borrow a bicycle from the ship, reserved for crew members and I leave to discover these idyllic and lush islands.
Slowly…
my skin is getting tanned by the sun
my hair is getting salty and wavy
While riding, the wind sea blows through the cloudy sky, I slowly realize how unaware I am about what my life could have been at this point in time
if I had stayed in France…
Maybe it is the only way to protect myself against the frustration ?
So far from everyone
So far from everything
Moving towards this special BUBBLE.
Harboring illusions by this WAY OF LIFE, which taking me a step further every day.
This experience on the high seas
is taking me away from my past…
Sailing to and fro the Caribbean, wind in my back,
I wander,
learn and
start over.
Again, I can be…
… whoever I want.
This lifestyle doesn’t seem to respect human rights but it
doesn’t dehumanize…
In the reverse situation.
It strenghthens connections,
combines cultures,
mixes nationalities.
I think this is what I came for without knowing it.
Here, we don’t count the steps, the hours worked but especially… the smiles you give and receive…
And rotations come in succession.
Crew members leave. New ones replace them. I clearly realize that they became my only
reference and anchor points onboard.
Everything is moving all around me.
How to describe the intensity of relationships built through this experience ?!
We need each other so much.
Day by day, we must compromise to help each other.
It’s our only way to resist…
… and to exist.
We are not allowed to feel « down » at anytime.
Thought conditioning that doesn’t require too much effort.
Despite
the tiredness is bound to build up,
the body wears out, exhausted.
We have to keep going to
through time …
Waking up over the weeks without rest becomes a burden…
I’m barely falling then a smile of support comes picking me up.
So we take up work again with the new crew within this
insane tumult.
The only moment of relief comes when we are waiting for the elevator to transport us to another deck. Again, we share smiles tinged with fatigue but full of compassion.
Dinner time at the “crew mess”.
I’m eating while my 500 cookie batch is baking for 18 minutes. I have to keep an eye on the watch.
I look at my plate which is always filled with mixed greens and a slice of pepperoni pizza. I don’t take pleasure in it anymore.
How can I be overcome by loneliness if I am constantly surrounded and requested… ?
I bend over backwards, keep learning technical and repetitive gestures.
It’s like there is nothing intolerable anymore…
Physical pain,
feeling down,
Routine took over.
What can I cling on to ?!
Promises were not kept.
During my interview, I heard :
« The company is looking for a French pastry Chef like you ! »
I can still see the elation in my recruiters eyes :
« You will create, manage, progress as never before ! »
The most frustrating part is that my skills are not used during those 13 work hours per day.
My competences are not exploited.
Not even a bit.
I’m just another number : 882…16.
I didn’t think I could give up but, one day I did. It happened.
First thing in the morning :
« Are you okay ? »
I totter :
« Of course ! »
He insists :
« Sure… ? »
I cannot no longer repress what I feel.
I take a deep breath and swallow my tears.
Not in front of my team.
Why didn’t I see this outpouring condition coming ?
While running along the gangway, hugging the walls, I know I can only be upset at myself.
For not being strong enough…
Physical exhaustion added to psychological fatigue…
my mental health totally drops.
Still on the run to my cabin, the way seems never-ending. I try to avoid catching someone’s attention so I bite the inside of my cheeks.
I barely make it to my cabin.
I swipe my card through the door and finally release my tears.
Sobbing, shaking, my past memories make their way into my weakened mind.
It’s going to be alright.
« It will go away »,
this is the only thing comforting me.
My cabinmate who was following me, pushes the door. I apologize :
« I’m sorry, I thought I was strong enough… But I disappointed myself so much… »
« What do you think ? From time to time, it happens to all of us. »
She continues :
« I see a strong woman. One of the most fearless I have ever met…»
Stupefied, I choke back tears.
« Let me tell you… These 6 months at sea will not break you. »
I have to save my skin !
But how… ?!
Time flies and tasks become more and more repetitive. I keep thinking about my hands making the same movements over and over again. I cannot think about anything else.
Before the mental K.O
my brain switches off.
In my mind and then since my first day onboard, there is still this little
glimmer of hope…
This place so uncommon.
This space out of the ordinary made for fine dining cuisine and special cooking classes for few passengers.
Every single day I am
FIGHTING
for this position.
In order to prove to my supervisors that my place is upstairs : deck 17…
I work harder and faster.
I’m giving my best.
I don’t know yet but…
This promotion will extremely change my everyday life onboard…
This man will deeply change my whole vision of life…
#resiliencetravelofMango
#atsea #onboard #shiplife #drivenbypassion
→ To be continued… : Put out to the deep sea [Part 2]
