Keeping Afloat

     A friend of mine recently made a good point: in a world of constant change, information is more rare than gold. 

     Just to start, I will give an update on me specifically. When I began writing this, I was at the end of my quarantine isolation. I added the qualifier of “when I began writing this,” because, from the time I started writing this to the time I finished, things have changed… and it is crazy to see how fast that happens around here. The day I began writing this was the day I was first tested for the virus. Originally I was supposed to be released by ship command, but my release was denied by some force off-ship (whether it was port agents or in accordance with the Italian government, I never got a straight answer). The command came that they did not want me (or the others that were being held in isolation) released until I was tested (which is fair and reasonable). Based on the closeness of the friends who tested positive upon their time of disembarkation and arrival home, I was certain I would’ve tested positive at the beginning of my isolation, I was less certain whether or not the test would come back with the same results at the end. This was especially true because, leading up to the test, I didn’t know what type of test I would be receiving. Side note: the type of test I received is very uncomfortable. Somehow I was the only one who didn’t know how the test was done until the cotton swab was up my nose rubbing around in my sinus cavity. All of which, for some reason that is unknown to me, is video taped by  officials during the testing (I can only speculate why, but I believe it is because they wanted to video tape me to see if I demonstrate any symptoms, and video how we are living while in isolation). Shortly after receiving the test, it was spread amongst the departments (or so I heard) that all crew members would be put in isolation. Well, since starting this post, my test came back and it was indeed positive. But apparently, I was far from the only one: several others, came back positive as well. And while I can’t be sure  (because I was never given the test results of my peers and the entirety of the crew hasn’t gone through its testing process yet), I believe the time will come that we find I am only one of a large group of people still on the ship who will ultimately test positive. 

     My experience is similar to what many people are experiencing at home. I spend a lot of time trying to think of things that will help me make time pass faster: I watch TV/Movies, I read and write, I lounge in bed or in the bathtub, I chat with friends and family, but unfortunately for me, a good number of those things may not have even been possible if certain circumstances hadn’t worked out. While the company was willing to offer us free social media, if I wanted to watch TV or movies -aside from the three English channels we have on the tv, two of which are news and one of which is movies (few of which are good)- I would need a European SIM card. I already had one but knew I was running out of data shortly but did’t get paid until the day the ship stopped and we were no longer allowed to leave the ship preventing me from procuring a new one. And, of course, thanks to Murphy’s law, two days later I ran out of data; meaning, by the time I was put in isolation, I couldn’t use my cell phone for anything other than social media (and lacked a connection strong enough to make calls to my family or friends). Immediately my family went to work ordering me a card from Amazon. We luckily found out through trial and error that Amazon was still delivering to the ship (2/3 packages ordered made it onto the ship). While I waited for that card to be delivered, a coworker on the ship was able to lend me an extra SIM card he had, finally enabling me to watch (A LOT of) Netlix and call my friends and family when I can. 

     While the food is lackluster, very repetitive, they sometimes forget the meaning of vegetarian, and I can always count on meals to take up some part of my day, I do miss some of the treats from home. Luckily, my mother managed to find a package of sweets that could be delivered to me. Unfortunately, with boredom comes irrational snacking, and I managed to eat through those sweets (as well as any sweets I had my coworkers purchase under my cabin and bring up to me) in no time at all. The boredom has contributed not only to boredom snacking, but also a feeling of overall laziness; there are days where I have done nothing but lounge in the bathtub, sleep in bed, or hang out on the balcony. But this presents a different problem. While we are in the tail-end of winter, we are still on the water. Temperatures have been wildly fluctuating from 40 to 70 degrees Fahrenheit, making hanging out on the balcony (and sometimes inside) very chilly. There are even times where there is little else to do but just pace back and forth throughout the cabin because there are few places left for me to go. I have been trying to improve my language skills, I have been writing, I have been reading, but when we are busy, we can sometimes forget just how many hours there are in a day. 

     So what impact have recent changes made to life on the ship? Well, like I have stated before, everyone on the ship will go into isolation. Both as a result of my positive test result, and the new directive for the entirety of the crew, I too will continue  in quarantined isolation for at least another two more weeks. The only people exempt from this isolation are crew with necessary duties, similar to what you would expect to find back on land. Those with essential duties are still allowed to do the work they need to do, but with certain stipulations. Even before going into isolation all common areas of the ship underwent strict social distancing rules forcing crew members to sit apart from each other at dinner, when having a drink, etc. When moving about the ship, we were asked to wear medical masks. Even large groups were discouraged. And for those people who have essential duties, these rules will remain in effect. 

     What is more interesting is what has changed in order to make this new isolation more effective. One big one is that the crew mess no longer cooks the food that is given to the people on the ship. All food is being provided from off the ship in pre-packaged containers. Honestly, it is the most mediocre food imaginable (very similar to what one may find in a hospital), made all the more unfortunate because the ship is docked in a country that is known for some of the best food in the world. But, like always, the food is free and is brought to us in our cabins. In light of the other possibilities, these seem like minor considerations and I would happily take that over the risk of infecting those that may not already have the virus, by going to the crew mess. They also brought a new doctor onto the ship. I have not seen the doctor or nurse that were taking care of me since they introduced the new doctor and the new isolation went into effect. I believe they may have also been put in isolation out of fear of exposure to the virus but that is difficult to confirm as I have very limited communication with a lot of the other crew outside of those in my own department. The new doctor continues to come and monitor us twice per day and remains in constant contact with the health authorities off-ship in case someone needs to be removed from the ship and sent to a hospital. The doctors, housekeepers (who take care of our trash and exchanging our linens when the time comes), and professionals who give us our food all wear the utmost in PPE to ensure minimal contact with us; including masks, haz-mat suits, gloves, goggles, etc. Because the people who deliver all these things to me are so covered, I can’t tell if they are outside workers who were brought on specifically for this, or if they are crew members deemed essential crew during this time. 

     The biggest frustration during this time stems not from our inability to do much of anything; but that we aren’t told much of anything. Recently it happened that a crew member from the ship was disembarked to a hospital and eventually passed away. I never met this man, but I have heard from everyone who met him that he was very nice. He was older and from Latin-America and I feel bad that he passed away so far away from home (the fear of everyone who travels for a living). The worst part was that it was never announced to the crew that he was disembarked or that he passed away. We found out in the worst way possible, through a news article that was published and was shared around the ships. In this article, we also found out that the ship was deemed by either the port agents or the Italian government to be “contaminated,” while the other ship from our company next to us was determine to be “clean”. That crew members would begin being disembarked and repatriated upon their negative testing, testing we weren’t even sure was coming for the entirety of the crew (I found out just before publishing this post that I was scheduled to be disembarked shortly but it was cancelled upon my positive test results and will not be rescheduled until I receive two negative test results). Living through this and feeling so uncertain, it is difficult to find out so much information was shared with a news outlet and not with the crew members pushing through day-to-day. The only conclusion I can draw is that they don’t want to constantly be bombarding us with ever-changing and uncertain information and so they choose to withhold information until it is necessary to share. But it certainly does make communications back home with loved ones more difficult. 

     Originally the ship was going to be whittled down to 60 crew members until the ship was ready to begin sailing again and crew would be brought back (whenever that might be as the date has been getting pushed back). Among those 60 was going to be myself; however, it was recently decided amongst those at the home office that the remaining skeleton crew would instead be brought down to a scant 30-35 crew members and I would be sent home. Unfortunately I was not privy to the decision making in this case, but I can only assume that the delays in disembarkation has cost the company more money and they are hoping to save some more by keeping a smaller selection of crew here until the company is ready to operate again, especially when that date is such a moving target. 

     I should say that I am sad to leave, deal with the airports and the hassle that I am sure will come with going through the airports during this time in the United States. However, I have started to become more relieved. While they are not forthcoming with any inclination toward an officiation disembarkation date (especially now that I found out my original plans were cancelled and my results came in positive), I am ready to be home and see my family. Since the result came in, I have noticed a serious increase in anxiety from the people I talk to because I am so far away from home, if anything should happen to me (not that I expect it would since I am over two weeks in isolation and have remained asymptomatic). I also miss food. This entire contract has been a selection of constant rotations of the same foods and I would just like to change it up. I usually fulfill that need by going out in port to eat lunch/dinner, but being confined to a ship (and now a cabin) I am unable to do that. I am ready to be somewhere where the whims of the company do not hold as much sway in my day-to-day life, especially when it is so uncertain. While working with passengers on the ship, I knew what to expect and I knew what my future was… and now I don’t. They have, for the sakes of health and limiting exposure/cross-contamination, cut back severely on the amenities afforded to the crew members on the ship, including shutting down the gyms and disembarking people from the spa (my hair is a mess since I can’t get it cut). There is almost nothing left on the ship and the life here, even after isolation, would afford little change, little please and little interaction. 

     From what I understand, life differs wildly from ship to ship. My interpretation of the rumors flying around are some people are living life as they would if there were passengers on the ship, even when there aren’t. Until they disembark, the type of work may have changed, but they are able to move freely about the ship and enjoy the amenities that remain. Other people are in a situation that is similar, though maybe not as severe, as that which we are facing. One constant is that on nearly every ship, people are eagerly awaiting their disembarkation orders so they can get home. But sadly this is not the truth for everyone. Because of shut downs borders, government orders, and travel restrictions, many people haven’t been able to disembark as easily as the company would like. Some crew members have even had to reach out to their embassy and have them intervene and arrange passage for them. Large groups of crew members have been held at airports and some countries won’t accept the large groups of crew members traveling back home making arranging travels back home nearly impossible. And so for us, there is little else but do what we can and keep afloat.