Highs and Lows in Scotland

I've spent the last few days seeing a vast array of what Scotland has to offer. The William Wallace Monument, the Highlands, the cities (Glasgow and Edinburgh), the theatre (Oklahoma!)* and the family (my family).
I've been very quiet here. Perpetually in one of those moods where I feel like I'm just not saying much, not contributing to conversations, not adding anything interesting. Just saying "yeah" a lot. Or, picking up the local dialect, "aye" (In my head, I'm actually secretly saying "a'ight," but they pretty much sound the same, so no one knows).
I like walking cities alone. It is a fun thing to not be worrying about compromising your own time because you have to see the things everyone else wants to see. Today, in Edinburgh, for instance, I saw a big cliff in the distance and just decided to walk toward it until finally, I was on top of it, looking down on the city. I maybe couldn't have talked someone into doing that. And I really enjoyed it, alone.
But I also long to just be talking to my fellow humans. Here's that recurring theme coming up again - remember the one I mentioned from the bus entry? The theme of shyness and talking to strangers. I said a few short words to someone in the cafe I lunched at - since the place only had one table, at which all the guests sat, talking to a fellow diner was relatively easy and invasion-guilt-free - but it didn't turn into a conversation. I could have turned it into one, but I let it go.
Then there's CouchSurfing. Oh, CouchSurfing. I just don't fully know how to make it work. You know what I said above about not adding new or interesting information into a conversation? Let me relate that to my basic failure in conversation and social interactions: Safety. I play too safely. I can get into a mood or a mind-state where I don't introduce new things, just build on things that have already been introduced. This makes me uninteresting. Well, at least less interesting than is ideal. I also don't know how to start interactions. I don't know how to ask for anything. I usually go into apologetic mode when I need to ask for something, and this can make me come off as, I don't know, desperate or sad or something, and so people react accordingly. This is how I feel with my CouchSurfing interactions sometimes. I don't know.

I do everything by myself. I shop by myself. I went to school by myself. I travel by myself. I just don't know how to ask people to join me. I love to join others, but I don't know how to ask them to join me, without feeling like I'm asking for a favour.

Anyway, if you're reading this, don't feel the need to respond with advice or anything. I'm not looking for advice. I'm just typing things that I think as I think them. I feel like this is not what travels blogs are supposed to be. Let me get back on topic with more photos.

From Scotland

*I'm not that enthusiastic about Oklahoma! The exclamation mark is part of the title. Mediocre show.

Efficiency 1: Budget

Will post last few days' goings-on soon. Today I wanna take a second to talk about efficiencies I'm implementing on this trip. I'm all about efficiency. In fact, the very reason that I've chosen to abandon flight as a means of travel could come down to efficiency, since boats are about 10-20 times more efficient on fuel - this has much appeal to me.

Today's efficiency post is about budgeting. In the months leading up to my trip, I started a series of spreadsheets on The Google Documents, tracking in great detail my food spending for each day. Well, not great detail, but down to the meal. In this way, I could observe trends in spending, find where costs could be cut, and implement measures to do so. But I love food, so for those who would fear that such measures would serve to reduce the enjoyment you get from your food, worry not; I managed to cut costs while maintaining optimal deliciotude.

Another spreadsheet I made tracked all expenses related to the trip. I estimated preparation costs, daily costs while travelling, and big costs, such as the boat voyages and rail pass. I compared the combined value to my current bank account, and made sure I could afford everything, updating as I went. A few extra costs have come up here and there - for instance, I way underestimated "incidental" travel costs, but I've managed to compensate in other areas so far.

Finally, I'm now keeping a spreadsheet that tracks my daily spending while abroad. I've separated everything into the categories: Food, Travel and Other. These values are then added, and the result is compared against $70 - the approximate amount I've budgeted for each day. Anything not spent from the day's budget carries over into a bonus pot for each month. This gives me an idea of how much I can splurge at the end of the month. Or how much I need to scale back. But because I'm in efficient-spending mode still, from the months before, I find I'm way under-spending so far. This will, of course, change once I hit the mainland, and am getting fewer free meals.

Anyway, that's my efficiency post for today.

What Do You Mean Boats Don't Go Wherever I Want Whenever I Want?

Falling a little behind here. Let me see if I can access my memories from last week. Whatever details I can't remember, I'll just fill in with frog DNA, and it should create a complete picture.

I met with my friend in London once again on the following night and we went to a local comedy show. There were about 8 comics in the night, and one headliner - Stewart Lee. Or Stuart Lee. Anyway, he was pretty funny. One guy was absolute crap. All he did was tell a long story where the only punchlines involved him and other people performing inappropriate sexual acts to young boys. I don't care what anyone says, that ain't comedy. And it's not that I think it's bad because it's offensive - if you could come up with a clever joke that had sexually inappropriate content, I won't write it off right away - I just hate lazy joke-writing that doesn't really introduce any new thoughts. Anyway, most of the other comedians were all right, and some were pretty darn good. I meant to make a note of their names... one was... Holly... something... GACGTGGACT.

Anyway, final day in London, saw the Tate Britain Art Museum. Really wonderful stuff. Though I'm a little torn if art galleries are the best way to spend time in a city. I do love them, but I keep thinking about the streets that I'm not seeing, and the people I'm not meeting. But it would be a fruitless task to try to take everything in, so I should disregard that feeling, perhaps.

Went for dinner with Cuz then caught my night bus into Glasgow. Sat next to one of two jokers who were on opposite sides of the aisle from each other. They didn't speak English to each other, so I had no idea what they were laughing at, but it must have been hilarious!

Now I'm in Glasgow. I've seen some family here, am being treated to home-made vegetarian meals. I feel almost too much at home; I shouldn't develop any lazy habits right before really trekking out there on my own. I'm forever being eased into this trip.

You know what, I don't think I've even posted my full plan here yet. You could be reading this blog, never knowing when it's going to end, feeling like you're trapped in a perpetual state of travel reading. This is not the case. I'm in the UK now, but next week, I embark for mainland Europe where I'll rail around for two months with my Eurail pass. Then I come home on another boat from Antwerp.
Well, my original plan had me catching a ferry to Norway from Scotland as my voyage to mainland Europe. I read that this could be done, and filed it away under T for "Things not to worry about." Well, now, upon thinking, "Oh, yeah, I gotta do that," I've discovered that it's really not possible, as most of such routes stop running for the fall. I frantically tried to recollect the shambles of my brittle plan and put it back together in such a way that I could still go through Scandinavia without losing too much in efficiency (I hate being inefficient.) So my new plan has me going from Newcastle to the Netherlands, which is great, because I'm friends with a Cop from Rotterdam who I'll get to see - then I go up to Denmark and catch a ferry into Norway, only losing a couple days from the original plan. I guess I'll have to steal those days from, say, Rome. Been there already anyway.

Well, tomorrow I'll check out more of Glasgow. Maybe I'll start posting reviews for the vegetarian restaurants I've been going to as well. I feel like "theme" posts could be fun. Instead of me just writing things all willy-nilly like this.

Scotland

Residual Effects

What I never reviewed about the boat was the food.

I'm a vegetarian, and told that to the chef when I got onboard (I'd have done so sooner, but the booking agent said it wouldn't be possible to get the information to the crew beforehand). I think I mentioned most of my meals were potato-based. Mashed potatoes, fried potatoes - I'd bet something in the ballpark of 80% of my calories came from potatoes that week. The only other vegetables I got, other than the salads, were boiled to all hell - broccoli boiled to all hell, green beens boiled to all hell - really didn't do much for me. There were some better meals, and some soups that were very good, but in general, the food was depressing.

Now, here it is, a week after my departure from the ship, and there's one meal that, upon thinking about it, brings back that sickness to the stomach I had onboard that ruined my appetite. I don't know how to shake this feeling. It's only when I imagine that meal. It was this fried-potato and onion patty thing. It actually was not that bad, and I ate it all, but just thinking about it makes me feel awful. I'm doing it right now, and I shouldn't be. Blech.

Data Points and Proportions

From London

Had some good days in London. Monday, just did more wandering around. Had a cheap vegetarian lunch at a place called Futures. It was pretty mediocre, to be honest, but I'd give them another try if I were ever in the neighbourhood again. Went to the Tate Modern Art Museum, where I saw some lovely surrealist paintings and sculptures. There was one that was just a whole bunch of steamroller-flattened silver articles suspended from the ceiling by wire, arranged in the shapes of discs. You had to see it, I guess.

Made Cuz a curry meal for dinner from the veg I picked up in Borough market the other morning. Went over quite well, it did. Also had a glass of wine, which is the first alcoholic beverage I've had in a number of years. I think this is my restless body's way of saying it wants to experiment, so I'll not spend time analyzing or justifying it for now. I'm a little torn about the whole thing, the no-alcohol vs. controlled-alcohol thing, since I'm usually an all-or-nothing kind of person; but in context, it would be hard to argue that it was anything but harmless. Bah, there I went and analyzed and justified it after I said I wouldn't.

Yesterday I met with a CouchSurfer to see the Science and Natural History Museums. Got some good photos, which can be seen here:

London

Then I met with an old friend from Toronto and another CouchSurfer for a strange event at a place near the Science Museum called the Dana Centre, where they put on artistic and scientific events. There were different speakers talking about their imaging systems, which offer unique ways of looking at the human body. Then all attendees shuffled into another room for a life-drawing session with nude models. Good fun, I'd say. I then got my body scanned by a computer. I had to strip to my boxers (in a private curtained area) then step into the machine for the scanning procedure. Thought about stuffing my shorts with something, but opted against it. I like pranks and statements that are so over-the-top immature that they are actually a comment on masculine immaturity; That and making my wang look big.

Buying a Canada Flag in the Wrong Country

What the heck building even is this?

Been in London a few days now, but I've really only been into the city for one day so far - the next few days will be the real exploration.

Left Liverpool early on Thursday morning, after spending the final night on the boat, and arrived in London around 3pm or so. Got myself oriented, and made my way to my Cousin's house - she be hosting me - which is a little southwest of the city. Just stayed in that night, met some of Cousin's friends, who were visiting her for her birthday, and that was that.

Friday, after subtitling an episode of Melrose Place, I aimlessly went into the city, following signs, people and possibly Earth's magnetic field, much like a migrating goose. Apparently, when consciousness kicked back in, I was in Westminster. I walked past what I could only assume was Buckingham Palace, and a nice park. Saw some trees that looked like they'd be fun to climb, but what with London's obsession with reporting suspicious behaviour, and my shyness in front of a strange city, I opted against it for now. Saw Big Ben - quite extravagent architecture there, though my camera battery crapped out, so I was pictureless for the rest of the day.

Was hoping to hear from two friends who I'd contacted in the city, so I made it a goal to find a wifi spot. Starbucks wanted to charge 4 pounds for an hour. I should really learn to ask about free wifi before buying a coffee from these places. I passed by a "Canada Shop," which was a nice coincidence, since I'd forgotten to buy a little Canada flag patch before leaving. I figure I'd want that in Europe, lest I be mistaken for someone from a country where they talk like me, but are involved in more unpopular wars than I am. Is such an image concern petty of me?

Walked through St. James Park, where the birds in the pond were quite exotic to my Canadian eye. I stayed there watching them for maybe an hour, quite fascinated by the way the geese and swans use their neck and head as a full-body grooming tool.
Oh, yeah, London.
The sun was going down. I popped into a bookstore, since I'm currently out of reading material, but nothing really stood out as being worth its price. On my way to the subway to go home, I noticed a strange pyramidal pillar off the sidewalk, in an alley. It had four "booths" - one on each of its faces - with a bucket-shaped opening, apparently designed for catching liquids. And a man was standing at one of them. What you've got there is a public outdoor urinal. That would never fly in Toronto. I'm used to there being solid walls, impenetrable to visible light, between my business and the public eye.
That was pretty much that day.

Saturday, Aunt and Uncle came down for lunch, then Cousin's roommates gathered round for the England v. Kazakhstan football match. We went out immediately following for Cousin's birthday celebration, about which I already somewhat wrote.

Today, Sunday, we went down to Sussex (I think I saw a sign that read Sussex) to visit Other Cousin. As we approached, OC's husband, who I'd not previously met, was in the process of "storming out," so to speak, over being left too long on his own with their crying baby. He did not return until after our departure a few hours later. Had a pleasant lunch there, came back and started my search for CouchSurfer's in Scandinavia (my first post-Britain point of arrival), and am now calling it a night.

Ahh...

Passenger Freighter Travel Review

In order that a discussion of passenger-freighter travel be most useful, I'm going to try to sum up my entire experience, the pros and cons, specifically as it relates to the flying experience. They are the same in that they are methods of long-distance transportation, but of course, due to a few drastic differences between them, often one is far more appropriate than the other.

Cost:
Let's start with the categories where passenger-freighter travel (let's just say PF from now on) falls behind. It's more expensive. The voyage from Montreal to Liverpool cost about $2000 Canadian - far more than an equivalent flight would cost. And for those thinking it (and many of you do), no, it's not possible to work your way there; there are more trained crew people than there are jobs, and based on my experience, they contract people from Eastern Europe and Southern Asia for the work (probably a cost-effectiveness thing). The contracts these people are on has them working anywhere from 4 to 12 months straight, before they can return home and wait for another contract. As such, and since it requires a lot of training, it doesn't seem like a position conducive to a curious young person from a rich country.

Time:
Here, again, where PF falls short (depending on how you look at it). My voyage took just over 7 days to cross the Atlantic, much longer than an equivalent plane. The added time, however, has a few benefits, including - no jet lag, since you're updating your time as you go, instead of all at once - and a real appreciation for the actual distance you're crossing. You can't get this appreciation with flight, which is, for all intents and purposes, a magical teleportation pod that you step into in your home country, and out of somewheres else. But, yeah, it's longer, and if you have a short vacation time, it's probably time you're unable to afford if you're only looking at transportation as a means to an end.

Customs:
This is tricky to evaluate. Upon our arrival in Liverpool, three customs agents came onboard to ask me typical customs questions. They were actually from the airport, but were called in for this purpose. It was me, them and the captain, sitting at a table on the boat. They were very friendly, but they drilled me. I assume it's because they see that someone is side-stepping the airports, and they want to know why. If I were paranoid about terrorists, I might think the same thing. They even went as far as to call my cousin here in London, who I told them was hosting me. They drilled me about what I did with my apartment while I'm away, how much money I have, all such things. Again, friendly, but tough. All I can say is, it was far more personal an experience than with flight.

Comfort:
Here's where the scales tip. I had my own room, with a bed, bathroom (with shower), TV, DVD player, plenty of outlets, writing desk, couch and mini-fridge. I was a mighty king. But a gentle king. I also had the freedom to up and walk around wherever and whenever I wanted - even late in the night, I could run down to the mess hall for a snack or up to the bridge for a nice view. On an airplane, there are times you can't even get up to go to the bathroom.
Now, motion - I didn't get full-on motion sickness, per se, though my appetite was strongly affected, quite negatively. It could have been other things though, including the fact that the smell of the kitchen was a little off-putting to my palette. When eating certain dishes, or in my room, I pretty much had my appetite back.
If you're someone who gets motion sickness, I can only imagine this would be a week-long nightmare.

Friendliness:
Here again, where PF shines, in my opinion. There's no get-you-in, get-you-out of air travel. There's no assumption of terrorism when you ask questions, get up, or take pictures. Everyone I encountered was friendly, even the customs agents, as I mentioned. I had free access to the bridge, and could ask whatever I wanted. I got a tour of the engine room and the deck, and it was quite an experience. Hands-down, PF wins here.

Experience:
Well, if you've never flown before, flying can be a fun experience. Likewise, if you've never been onbaord a large ship before, PF can be a fun experience. If you're curious, ask questions, and explore, you'll have a great time. Watch the ocean pass you by. See the vastness of it all. Touch real awesome equipment. It was a great adventure, I'd say.

All in all, I can see how it's not a method of transportation for everyone - but if you're even a little curious about it, then just try it. You're paying for the adventure, and the fact that you can cover great distances is a beneficial side-effect. Can't say it's all good, since there were certainly times when I was bored, but I think had I been better equipped with media on my computer, I could have been just fine. I got lots of reading and writing done, so it was great for my productivity.

If there are any other questions anyone has, let me know, and I can maybe answer.

Can't Find Something I Can Put My Heart and Soul Into

I hate having to explain to people why I feel like leaving the party. It's humiliating, and it never goes smoothly. And everyone's friendly, and tries to talk me into staying, which just makes it harder.

Twice on this trip so far I've felt the sting of social anxiety. Tonight, in London, it's my cousin's birthday party - she's my host here - and of course I wanted to come out and join the festivities. But a short while into the night, it happened as it always does - I'm finding myself just standing there, afraid to approach a group, looking around at things in the room in pretense to actually being interested in the signage at the bar.
The music was too loud, the groups were forming up - I just can't compete. I've never been able to do anything in those situations. My chest tightens up, I feel ridiculous, and I just want to leave. I know I won't be happy leaving - as I'm unhappy now - but I likewise know I won't be happy staying, standing, pretending to read signs all night.

So I hate explaining to people, in the process of having a good time, why I have to leave. Because, of course, I'm already in a fight-or-flight mode, and so now having to explain this silly problem to people comes out awkwardly. A few of them tried to talk me into staying, and I appreciate that, but I just know my behaviour patterns, I know the likely outcome, and I just want to spare myself.

This has been hanging over me for a while now - in relation to this trip specifically. I don't want this to ruin things for me, but I have real fears that it might. If things stay in small crowds or conversation stays to philosophical banter, I'm set; I'm fine; I shine. But sometimes people want to go out and have fun, and that's where I'm useless. I'm just not much fun. And on nights like this one, it bums me out. I'm torn between wanting to change and wanting to be able to just say, "This is what I am, and always have been; It's okay, and I should accept it."

So, heh, that's London so far. I've been very unsocial - trying to keep up, because I don't want to be rude, but it's just tough. When I feel like this, it's just tough.

Ah, well - I knew there'd be bad days. And I knew that I'd just have to remember on the bad days that there will be good days. So let us keep our thoughts on that.

I guess I just wasn't made for these times.

Still to Come

Hello,
Just finished uploading my collection of blogs from onboard the ship.
Hopefully tomorrow I'll wrap it up with a full discussion of the experience.
I wanna go through a sort of review of sea travel, comparing it with air travel in various categories.

Cosmos!

Oct 7

3:52 am – Ah, but as vast as the ocean is, vaster still is space in all its glory. I’ve been having trouble sleeping, so I stepped up to the bridge this evening, about an hour ago, and I was simply blown away by the clarity of the sky. Stars so bright. There are several pairs of binoculars for use on the bridge, and they keep the lights out at night, so the effect is a beautiful sky, untainted by our unworthy glow from the Earth. There is no light in view in any direction, save for the light glow of the necessary instruments in the bridge itself. So densely populated is our sky. This is like a religious experience for an astronomy student – it was really quite something. After about an hour, clouds started to sweep in, so the perfect view didn’t last forever. Quite all right though. I got what I came for.

4:14 pm – Just had a tour of the engine room. Very loud and fascinating stuff going on down there. I’m generally feeling pretty good today, in terms of appetite and mood, despite a few rough days on the voyage. I don’t know if it’s the diet (which consists mainly of potatoes, as a vegetarian at sea) or the rocking or the sleeping patterns, but my emotions feel funny – all of them. Satellite TV kicked in, and just watching the news really evokes an emotional response from me. Quite strange.

Feelin' Kinda Sagan-y

Oct 5

8:44 pm – As a lover of astronomy, and a dreamer of space, I’ve often imagined what it would feel like to be lost in the huge emptiness where recognizable places are few and far between – to be lost so far from home that the thought of picking a direction and following it seems daunting. The ocean is that, my friends. Now, just beyond the halfway mark on this voyage, ocean surrounds us in all directions. Naturally, there’s little fear of actually being lost, but just the fact that there’s absolutely nothing in sight – no lights, no other vessels, no animals (except for the seabirds that seem to be following us), and certainly no land – is really quite something. Really, a photograph can’t capture this. The ocean is huge and vast, and all I know is that I’m somewhere in the middle of it.

The crew had a bit of a party last night, so I stopped in, though I felt way out of my element. They didn’t talk much, either, actually, so I didn’t feel too bad about generally keeping to myself out of shyness. They just popped in a music video mix DVD and let it do the partying for them. It was just a mix of ‘80s rock songs, culminating for me at the 2-hour mark, when Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” came on. I wish the DVD had ended with that.

Apparently the satellite TV might kick in tomorrow. Whee!

Started reading Carl Sagan’s Demon-Haunted World today, after finishing The Third Chimpanzee (which was generally pretty good, though I was most interested in just the first 100 pages or so or human origins). Sagan described how, as a child, when pondering something his math teacher had said about how there’s no biggest number, he had the urge to write out all the integers from 1 to 1000, and he did so. Made me remember that I had done the exact same thing as a child, though on a typewriter. I just sat there typing out numbers. It was a personal project of mine that my family was well aware of. If they wanted to keep me occupied for a bit, they could just say, “Why don’t you go work on your numbers?” and I naturally would. This maybe only lasted a week or so – once I got into the thousands, since I wasn’t using the space bar, it became hard to tell the numbers apart. Can’t tell you why I didn’t use that space bar. I guess I saw it as a useless and inefficient operation for my needs. Anyway, I like finding out I have things in common with people I admire, especially things in my childhood.

23-hour Days

Oct. 4

6:46 pm – Every day at 2 pm we’ve been adding an hour to the clocks to keep up with the time zone change. It’s really affecting my appetite. Or maybe that’s the constant rocking motion of the boat… too many variables to adequately discern – the jury’s still out.

I’m trying to keep up with my 100 pushups regimen, from 100 pushups.com, but again, the rocking motion leads to an unaccountable shift in the forces required to lift myself up. Some pushups are worth double, while some only worth half. You’d think it would balance out, but it feels more like it’s overall harder.

As we exited the St. Lawrence yesterday afternoon, there was a short round of whale-watching. You’d clearly see the jets of water spray up, then hope to catch a dorsal (?) fin pop out. If you were lucky, a tail. I saw a few tails, and then, about a half hour later, a few dolphins (or maybe just smaller whales) actively jumping in and out of the water alongside the boat. Couldn’t get a good picture though.

I hate to turn a fun, harmless activity into yet another ecological moral lesson (though I guess that’s gonna be the overarching theme of such a no-flying trip), but I was reminded of the episode of Carl Sagan’s Cosmos entitled “The Persistence of Memory,” (check it out) in which he describes that whales likely had a vast worldwide communications network in the oceans until we silenced it unknowingly with our constantly rumbling loud and large sea machine, one of which I am onboard. I guess the whales that I would see today will have never known anything else, and so they have nothing to miss, but it is something I think about nonetheless.

Wave Race!

Oct 1 / 08 -

We are moving! We are moving!
Got up at 8 today to make sure I was awake for the big departure. Turns out I didn’t even feel it. I looked out the window at 9-ish, and we had already fully turned around and were slowly on our way up the St. Lawrence. Now, an hour later, we’ve picked up speed, and Montreal is far behind.
The St. Lawrence is beautiful. I mean that in terms of both visual and strategic appeal. I can only imagine the excitement of the first European settlers to arrive here, looking upon all the small islands, the trees, the resources. I can hardly help but look at it and see the potential for colonization myself, what with my extensive days of playing Civilization. But then, aw, rats, there’s already savages here – well, we know how to deal with them! Fitting that I just last night read the section in Jared Diamond’s The Third Chimpanzee on genocide, in which he analyzes whether we have a natural propensity for the act. He doesn't use that as a justification, of course – he certainly doesn’t suggest “of course we commit genocide; we’re programmed to, and so it’s okay to do it every now and then.” No, no, no. He just addresses the fact that it’s not only “evil” people who are capable of it, but rather all of us have the potential in us to want to see a group – however you classify them; race, religion, political beliefs – wiped off the Earth.
Anyway, don’t get the wrong idea – I’m not cynical here or anything. I just like seeing the history in the landscape. Or at least the history as a series of stories I’ve been told.
I just got my first view from the bridge, and my first whiff of the fresh air blowing past me from the observation deck off the bridge; it’s really something.

2:05 pm – Passing Trois Riviers. All the TV channels we get are French now.

I notice we’re playing “stay between the green and orange buoys.” It’s like a big slow game of Waverace 64.

7:30 pm – passed by Quebec City.

Port of Montreal

Sept. 30 / 08

Day one on the boat – boarding procedures.

I was dropped off in the morning by my host at a metro station in Montreal, and spent the morning getting any last-minute items I figured I would need for the rest of the trip, including an electric-outlet converter for European sockets, which I should have gotten ages ago anyway. As well, I picked up some anti-nausea pills, just in case.

I went for a solo vegetarian lunch at L’Escalier, then, when the time was right, I worked my way toward the port for boarding. The whole day I’ve been lugging around this big backpack. Again, it’s neat to think that on my back I hold all my worldly possessions for the next three months. There’s something very appealing about this lifestyle – very freeing. More on that as it arises.

I get to the port at 2 p.m. With all the tall gates, hard hats and security posts, everywhere I go, I feel like I really shouldn’t be there. I approach one security gate, which I had to cross a few truck lanes to get to (don’t get the wrong idea though; the traffic was being controlled by a series of gates and lights, so there was no danger), and tell the guard that I’m a passenger. He checks my passport and radios for a shuttle to come pick me up. I snap some photos while I’m waiting, and the guard tells me it’s not allowed in the port. So for arbitrarily silly rules, it appears that ship ports are equally matched with airports. No matter. The shuttle takes me right up to the boat, past the massive crates and cranes of the port, and I board.

The Picture They Don't Want You to See!

I get shown to my room as soon as I sign in, and I don’t want to get in anybody’s way while the crew shows up, so I stay in my room for the next few hours. Oh, and I’m the only passenger.

After waiting a sufficient period, I head down to the office (where I checked in), grab a bite to eat, as prepared by the cook, and start talking to the Safety officer about safety on the ship. There’s a lot of rules, but it’s all for my safety – I remind you all that as I type this there is a giant frigging crane dropping crates that weigh who-knows-how-much on the cargo bay of the ship. I get the impression that once we depart tomorrow, I’ll have a bit more freedom. For the moment, I’m limited to the accommodation section, which is seven floors of fun, fun, fun*.

*Note: fun is spread over so many floors that the amount of fun per floor is actually quite limited.

Everyone’s very friendly, and Safety is an open book about shipping and sea travel.

Well, it’s night time, and we leave early in the morning, so there’s not much more I can do tonight but wait. Whee!