Tuesday, 21 June 2016

7.3 Spanish cruise, part 3

Sitno >>178<<

Griefing Gods, how much my feet ached last night, and how hot I was in the awful synthetic uniform jacket .. But there were many paying people and I worked from 4 to nigh 11 in the eve, albeit with a neat half hour diner and later 20 minute coffee break, which felt like a pie slice of bliss, sitting outside, watching sleeping freighters... i never had a legit coffee break before. I suppose looking like I'm about to pass out from overheating hit a pragmatic chord with my manager, who figured giving me a break is better than having to stand in the poorly aired hallway alone for the rest of the evening... Also one of the passangers offered to hold the deck door open for me, so that a cold wind could blow in and I could be fanned by it, which was a pretty decent thing of her to do :D

During the busy hours someone tapped me on the shoulders (happens often enough for me to know never to look over the TAPPED shoulder), but there is no-one on the left, no-one on the right, only far down the blonde crew cut and beneath it DOo grinning silly. The other day he tried to craw pass me beneath the counter. Fucking adorable old idiot :D
I tell him, gesturing at the shop behind him: "Get the fuck off the floor, you idiot. There is a ghost in the shop. An old lady, confused, stuck. She can't remember what she came to buy before she felt poorly and had to sit down in the cafe."
"What are you talking about?" (He speaks with a heavy Finnish accent, sort of stacking words one on top of the other.)
"And you had a Code Bravo! What the fuck are you doing to this ship?"
"What are you talking about, there was no Code Bravo. An old lady was Code Alpha."
"Yes, I know what Alpha means."
"What it means?"
"That someone is going to die."
"No, that's not what it means."
"If there's Code Alpha and no helicopter, someone is going to die."
"Oh, you. You really are one step forward, two steps backwards every day..."

The 12ths are my days of hormonal imbalance and everything that happens makes me feel worse. Even excellent food. (Or my strict diet of ice-cream and coke.) We had Spanish food buffet for diner, complete with pancakes with foamy ground almonds, cinnamon and cream. I asked to go to a 8 1/2 hr trip to the fucking Alhambra palace, but because there is drill, instead I have to stand in the hallway for 15 minutes, hugging my life jacket, waiting for life to go by. Cannot be excused. Neup. Not sure who fucked me over that one. If it was the new Safety Officer or not. He seemed a little nervous when I cornered him, saying that because some international inspection, no-body was allowed to go ashore during drill.. Except of course my roomie, because reasons. If it was SLSB who ruined it for me, it just means he must have noticed my Instagram by now... Though at least they are awere of out existance and all photies are on AwaitOrdersTeam, so that when we CAN be excused, there are no reasons not to. Or so I'm lectured. Except when Alhambra.

Wrote the bad poem, to wash away the bile and the ghosts:

I will give you five baskets.
Heavy, large, wicker things.
One's how much you will be laughing.
The other is a vessel for your tears.
One is sleep, or thoughtless abandon.
One is everything you will ever do wrong.
The last one is all you will ever do right.
Hearts are hungry, fickle things.
They bleed, they break, they stop (with no warning.)
And my five baskets are heavy.

Managed to find the one McDonald's in existance without wi-fi. The Gods of home made ice-cream have finally caught up with me. But the truth is, I needed to find a cool place to hide and have a cold drink and some warm water... As fascinating and pretty as Malaga is, I am not aclimatised to the extreme heat and am getting dizzy. A bunch of the hairs on my left forearm keep getting erected, like I'm cold. I remember that shit from Sahara. I'll get used to it. If I knew I can spend the rest of the day chillaxing, I would be okay. But I need to stand in a stuffy hot gallery in the afternoon, dressed in an awfully uncomfortable outfit.
Aaaah, so THAT's why I was bloated like a seal and wanted to kill somebody yestereve... My other ovary decided to join the party and I am now, after two weeks of leaking, bleeding like a struck pig. Well, at least I have good reasons for crying and whining. Always good to know.

Bought myself some cheap sunglasses and last season's Mango shorts. Really short shorts, too. Thin, pretty, very pretty, very short. Makes me conscious of the parts I am not often shaving, wondering it anyone will notice by the time I get to my cabin :D 'Course it's more probable everyone will just notice my tomato red sweating face. Was also oggling fedoras, but am not thin enough to wear one yet, though my face is getting narrower. I'll get myself one when I am size 12.

I'll write about Malaga in another post... Maybe an Instagram post. Or both. 

They are doing this sinister thing to the wi-fi - you will no longer NEED to buy a code card, you'll just log in and it will be charged to your room... Which is a fairly awful thing to do, especially the crew. Not only because some people forget to log out, but also because if you know you have five hours, you ration that time to speak to your family five times... But people are addicted to their families, I should know, and will think, during conversations, in their head: just one more minute, just one more minute, just one more minute ... No more rationing there, either. And next thing you know a third of your paycheck goes back to the fucking boat. 
I'm not saying that wouldn't make sense if this was good wi-fi, but it's shit. Half the time it doesn't work and when it does work, it takes twenty minutes to load one photo onto Facebook. I talked about it to Tom the Host earlier. I said:
"Crappy fucking wi-fi; I've managed to have ONE Skype sex in the entirety of two months since I've been here."
"I have no idea how you managed to get that through, I have trouble loading porn .GIFs."

Sitno >>177<<

"Get the fuck out of my sun or give me some sun block, you fucking Red dragon wanna-be."
(One of my shoppie mates, affectionally, after seeing my tattod back on the beach.)

Looked through some of our future itineraries... Few new ports, but mostly old, familliar ones. Mixed feelings about that. While I am insatiable, regarding this world (Gimme more, gimme more of it!), I do have a list of towns I wanna dive in more and mayhap this will give me the opportunity to cross them off that list... Three days of Hamburg, with food and sleeping paid for, in abundance?? :D MiniatureWonderland here I come!

Not a bad day behind us, a seaday. Did burn through my entire supply of tampons and napkins, simultaneously, as am leaking ridiculously, but will survive. Tomorrow it's Vigo (Portugal, not Mortensen.), then two more sea days. Two more bazaars, which I like. Not sure how much I will like it while crossing Bay of Biscay, but we'll cross that vomit fest when we come to it. The shifts were nicely distributed, so it wasn't painful, even though the ship is rocking, on an otherwise not too moody seas. SLSB held an almost friendly, cheerful meeting, during which he read us the latest complaints we had to the management. There was a particular one regarding me by name, which it took me a while to understand WhiskeyFoxtrotTango. Someone complained I told them to remove their clothing and that when they asked me to take their photo I refused.
Fucking blink.
... Had to really think about that one. Then I remembered. Yesterday, in the hallway, on the day that there was 46'C in the Malaga port, a man came by, wearing a woolly sweater and I asked them if they are not hot. They said that what will they take off if it gets any hotter? 
Okay, it was a random conversation, I didn't think anything of it. But, hey, you know, I always forget, some guests come onto this ship only and EXCLUSIVELY to complain, because this way they get free stuff for it. Even the guy who shat all over the ship, so they had to spend hours on end scrubbing and sanitizing, will get monatery compensation for being quarantened. As a karma payback, he will not be able to board the complimentary bus home. 
I had a passenger today who insisted I should offer him a deal for the three photos he is buying. When I explained I am only an employee and have no bargaining leeway, he moved onto SLSB and tried an ever more aggresive aproach, ultimately abandoning the photos, upset we would not cut their cost. What insulted him the most, I think, was the fact that behaving badly towards us would bully us into yielding. We didn't even blink. It was actually kind of silly. This shit happens every day, more so towards the end.
K, so one was an attempt at a missunderstanding, it happens. I'm used to it by now. The second one was a complete lie. Nobody ever asked me to take a photo of them while passing Gibraltar, because a) why would I ever refuse just taking someone's tiny camera and pressing a button? and b) it was pitch black while we did it. What someone once DID ask me was if I take photos of the sunset, and I said that no, those are only for me. 
... The coleagues telling me I spend too much time talking to the passangers, that I am too friendly and some are not right in the head?... I am starting to believe them. Slowly, bur surely. I used to think, but, wait, some people are creepy, sure, but at least some are super sweet? "No. Fuck them. Speak to nobody about anything. Even if they seem to be the loneliest fucks in creation, in desperate need for anyone to notice them, fuck them. Any form of niceness will only come back to bite you in the ass. Speak to NO ONE about anything, not even the weather."
Yup. Am starting to believe that. As the super hottie Vigo Mortensen would say: Seek life ELSEwhere. 

I SAW A WHALE! I was so excited once it finally happened I found the first person I could, which happened to be our dear cocksure Dubrovnik-born captain (no. Just no.) talking to the pretty blonde excursions girl, and told them. I saw a whale! It was not like in the movies, it was just a cow-sized slick gray something that spurred water out of their dorsal nasal thingie... But I never saw one before and it was kinda surreal. Whoa, dude! A whale!

Got to appretiate the fact that we live here and now and can see a whale and not have the need to kill it. (Though I never understood why a whale doesn't just swim down when being hunted. We have something like a 100 meters under the keel. Just swim the fuck down, not AWAY, moron.) If DOo and I lived and worked on a boat a 100 years ago, he would have to be a navy mariner or a whale hunter or fisherman and I would have to be a pirate. We would have to hurt things. Even as a charter and an explorer, I would destroy things.

On that note, DOo update, as he is my favorite human on this tin can, the second funnest part of the day was talking to him in the gallery, asking him about 'so who is this woman you think of when you look at me? Because you are looking at me like I'm this complicated toy, this.. may be fun to play with for a bit, but too many moving parts to really have patience with, too heavy to carry around..?'
... And he just began to say I'm being spooky and tell me about his girlfriend, when one of the passing girl employees said: "Happy birthday! Was it a nice surprise last night?"

After five minutes of calling him bad names for being a complete dick for not telling me - I asked him like a dozen times! -  he said no, this is much more fun!
Fuck you, I could have given you that photo for a present. Asshole. 
After lunch I offed to his cabin when I knew it was his nap time. He sleeps too much anyway. What adult human sleeps for seven hours? Seriously. Thus we spent another hour, me sitting on the floor as usual, him on the bed, talking about ugly divorces, kids, a guitar he would like to buy, and Malaga they way I saw it, and men on this ship that hide their true nature very badly. (And would cheat on their wives never ever EVER, except, you know, if there was an opportunity...) 
We hugged (people hug A LOT around here, this would be like my sixth hug since I got here and I am NOT a huggy person. Granted, I do really miss being held by G. every single breathing moment, but that's different. Nobody has skin like him. Nothing would substitute his arms.) and I felt weird how small he actually is, I could feel his ribs and cross my arms around him. All of it oddly unsexual, just kinda sad, because he'll be gone soon, and probably for good. I think he is begining to see that going back to the Real World while your heart is actually locked to an ocean is not all it's cracked up to be. 

I should know - I have the exact opposite problem. 

Sitno >>176<<

We're almost in a proper sea storm. Not a very dramatic one, but a sea storm nonetheless. Been going up and down for more than a day now, which you feel no matter how many seasickness pills you take, and we're only a couple of hours away from docking. Gangway is going to be fuuuuun :D
Couldn't sleep because ladies' business gore gallore and am freaking out a little by how much one person can bleed before it becomes an issue?.. 
The TV in officer's mess is often on, showing BBC news, which mostly just generates angst. I know I defend the horrors of my species by saying for every Bach there must be a Goebels, for every Malala Erzbeth Bartnoly or whatever that dumb bitch's name was, for every Gandhi that Waterloo freak, what's his name, Napoleon, and so on, but still. I know that if you mess too many colors in together, one will ruin everything from a rainbow into a gray sludge. We do some pretty awful things to one another every day. Which make everybody else just a little bit darker. Every time a passanger treats me like shit, I move further and further away from the concept of them. Every 'in need' mass I've ever met were the wrong kind of people to help. Africans, Indians, Nepali, the economic migrants who came across my own country and left a shitstorm behind, quite literally. None of those NEEDED my help. None of those thought I was being a good person. They all WANTED something from me, because they believed I was a bad person, a person undeserving of the shoes I wear and my 15 euro watch. 
Maybe I'm just in a bad mood because my tummy aches so badly, despite medicine. Or maybe it pisses me off that for three days BBC's been showing footage of people dying and crying during some mass shooting in a night club in Orlando, screaming 'how did this happen?!' ... Well, probably because a mental patient walked into a gun store, purchased two gym bags of ammo, walked to a night club, used it and now the gun manufacturers will loby for every night club bouncer to be armed with at least two hand guns and religious fundamentalists will loby for all gay clubs to close, for their own safety - all the while in the rest of the world some other, more significant horrors, but also more significant triumphs of humanity were taking place, which did not inspire as many TV viewers. 

Attempted to go out, but gangway was two hours of pouring rain or furious wind or blazing sun or all of the above at the same time. Not a rollcount to speak of, but at least it wasn't worse. I didn't go to Vigo at all, I just sort of swept through the shopping mall in the port, to get some better headphones (did miss that bass) and another bracelet, and try to catch a wifi. Some of the letters sent home already arrived and caused some joy, others are still in the transit. Went back, without really buying a postcard, since I wasn't really ever in Vigo.. Ran into two men in the hallway at the same time and managed to insult one by choosing to chat with the other. As if it was a choice. 
"Who's he?" asked DOo smuggly. 
"No one."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. You're the only one I'm not sleeping with."
That came out a little wrong. 
What I was trying to say, is that of all the people on the ship I am not having any relations with, he is the one I am having least NOT relations with... LOL. There is just no way to explain this. Bottom line, I am entirely faithful and pure to the Reality of my origin. There is just the ongoing joke between DOo and I about the almosts.
"So you almost-captain, you almost made the same mistake you did the first time. You almost cheated on your almost-girlfriend with your almost-mistress..."
The almosts are the joke. 
... That didn't sound right either. Fuck it.

An off day today and an Asian buffet today for diner... That is a benevolent combo. If you don't take into consideration 50 knots per hour wind speed gusts and the enclosing Bay of Biskay. 

Had my three chocolates of choice and another rice pudding with sweet plum for late nite dessert, and some nice coffee, then headed to the gym to spend and hour and a half walking really fast, uphill. It would have been an even harder workout if I didn't hold onto the handles of the conveyer the whole while, and instead carried the weights as I usually do, but believe me. If you were on a ship that ploughs through THOSE kind of waves, you'd have held onto stuff, too. Funny feeling, though, the massive waves - at times you're almost levitating and in another ten seconds you're in a G4 force ascend, heavy as a dry fish. 

Sitno >>175<<

So far the Brooklyn approach to Biscay has been working out best so far: strong pills against seasickness, and many, some painkillers for the tummy ache and no food and very little water at all. I haven't eaten in 24 hrs and I have not been even a little sick, despite the fact the ship is jumping like there's no tomorrow
The one semi bad news is that because of Code Yellow, a treshold of an epidemic, we cannot have the bazaars and without those the chances for meeting target look very bad indeed. Perhaps this time for the first time we actually won't come up so very good. Ah, well. I only need 280 bucks to meet my quota :) We'll see. Kinda wanna buy G an anneversary prezzie. And mayhap myself some summer shoes. I keep staring at people's feet to see what nice things they wear. 

Discovered Britvic Indian Tonic Water in these tiny 150ml cans, of which I bought a whole case at SlopChest (for the price of two normal Coke Cans). It's really nice bitter tonic, good for the tummy. I ate a large spoon of rice and a small slice of cheese cake and drank some more water. Still persevering the sickness. Not sure when I should take the next pill.. Better safe than sorry? But I don't wanna run out. Fuck it, !'ll just take all of 'em and crawl down to the Medical center for more later.
We set down the studios unusually early, because there is no way we're going to make target anyway, unable to set up the tables for people to purchase magnets and postcards and albums and the like ... I think I'll just go to bed. I've slept through most of the hours which I haven't been working. It helps. For once I am not the one with the green face, stumbling from column to column, looking like death's bitch. 

Sitno >>174<<

"We only shoot tables and couples tonight, yes?"
"No, what couples? It's the third formal, what is the matter with you. Only tables and couples!"
... "Er..."

SLSB is so angry we are not gonna make the money because of the gastro prevention rules, he undid the studios halfway through the formals last night and just sent us to our rooms. He managed to negotiate one table for today's sale, but that got closed down after an hour also, because Code Red. I suggested we just display one of each postcards for the people, which was not agreed upon. He later displayed one of each in the display cabinet, because he is very clever. Not that it changed anything. People don't buy the things they cannot touch.
A pair of passengers lent me a book about Britain's origins for a few hours; I am reading that now, waiting for my shift to start and for my clothes to tumble dry :)

Broke my no-food rule again, with an excuse it's comfort food and I deserve it, though in truth I didn't need it. Didn't need any comfort.  These are the good days. I just love the company, and the food tastes great. The hosts and the band are either high or drunk or just being themselves, glad to get another hour of sleep when we switch to London time. We're laughing at smut jokes so hard I'm choking on my nuggetz. We also must have done something right in our lives, to be able to just eat as many nuggetz as we can - it's an open buffet of everything you can eat and this shit is delicious. Same stuff as you get in McDonald's IN BUCKETTS.
All kinds of grim predictions for tomorrow... That we'll be manning toilets for most of the cruise, that we're embarking from a hellhole tent in the middle of a quay construction, that we'll be forced to make package deals regardless of how uneffective they are... But all of that sounds kind of fun so far, I can see no difference standing in the gallery for four hours or standing outside of a restroom for three, and so ridiculously normal, that suddenly to be called a Braemarian just means, in the mariner vernacular, you're from "one of those ships" :D 'Is this normal?!' Ye. It kinda eez.

At home my love could have gone to a hot concert up in the castle ruins theater, but had to work and is not the kind of a guy to get some time off and then spend the night partying. I know, because up until two months ago, I was not the type of a person to be out after eleven, not even if it was a really long movie. Homesickness continues to tear apart my heart strings, the way bathing my dog is described, (more accurately, the dog's precious few fleas), the way choosing the BD gift for my sister is asked for.. I miss my father,s voice, the smell of my house, the flowers in my mother,s garden and the problems pf my friends. I miss my Internet; down in the crew mess some goth jump scares horror tragedy with Daniel Radcliffe is playing and I have no idea what it is about or any means of finding out and I hate not having a broom to clean my headspace before I go to bed, such as the Internet was back home... The way the passengers talk about their relationships, current or gone. The heart is somewhere really really really fucking far away. The heart is fucked. 

A woman who spoke to me abut philosophy and poetry told her husband that I am very bright (that is a very nice word. To be BRIGHT.) and they will be looking out for my name in the future. I kind of feel obliged to live up to their expectations with Goose as a new form of literature, not bound by any style, not bound by any genre, not bound by any existing norm... And no death or disease or tragedy will stop me, I pray, because if they don't, my own limitations certainly shouldn't.

The heart is fucked. It is not getting any less fucked, it is not getting any closer to home, because the longer I am so far away from my house, the less I am myself, and who knows into what the oceans will change me. The heart is fucked. 
But the head is laughing to tears, the tummy is happy on nuggetz, the legs are strong, the wrists have cute bracelets and somewhere down there a massive machine is pushing the tin on, a band is playing good stuff and Bad Romance, an army of housekeepers are handing three thousand colorful suitcases through corridors and in a lonely cabin on the other end of a ship a small blonde old peacock is sleeping, alone and cheerful, like me. Funny thing - all the best things in his life happened to him because of women, and all the worst things that happened to him were because of women. For me, the same applies to travelling. It is a strange addiction to have. If he were mine, none of those bitches would stand a chance; I wouldn't share him with anyone.. Not even the sea..

So how do I make sure that the man who IS mine, whose voice holds my entire existance in proper shape, is never ever tempted to the oceans and that I am of all the bitches the one who steals all the kisses from his lips, be it the daylight, night time or dreams borne? Is it stagnation or trust that which I should rest my foundation upon?..