This post may be a bit redundant, as much of it has been discussed in my previous two blog posts and on my facebook Live videos. However, much of it bears repeating, especially having reached the milestone of 50 days in isolated quarantine. A majority of this post is going to be answering a lot of the most common questions people have been asking me about my time in here, as well as a compilation of highlights (or lowlights) of my time contained in a a single cabin on the ship.
I would like to start with a statement that is a running theme throughout my blog posts; however, it is especially poignant here, for reasons that will become quite apparent throughout: the situations and conditions I discuss in this post are factual and my interpretation of these are opinion based (through the lens of someone who is living it). You are welcome to read about the conditions I have been placed in and reach your own conclusions. I have been told by some that I have overreacted to some things, and been told by others that I should be more outraged than I have been of late. So I invite you step into the world of the pandemic on a cruise ship and react in a way that feels most authentic to you when you read what it has been like.
As I stated above, I have officially been in isolated quarantine for 50 days. During that time I have been contained in a single passenger cabin on the ship. I find myself in this position due to a series of circumstances that are largely my own fault. Unfortunately, being to blame for the position that I am in greatly enhances many of the frustrations I have felt toward the topics I will discuss here. When the time came that the ship I am on (but before it was announced that every other ship in the fleet) would stop, I reached out to the home office, asking if I would be able to be transferred to another ship that was still operational. I am not going to pretend I did this for some noble reason, I did this for the same reason many people continue to work on cruise ships (despite the difficulties the life onboard may present) money. I had only been on contract for under two months and had not had enough time to save up money to last however long I would be without work. Obviously this request was denied, as many ships were being scheduled to cease sailing, but they did say that I would be staying as part of the 60(ish) person skeleton crew that would be kept on the ship during that time. They gave me the option to decline, but I was assured I would be paid and the likely timeframe would be only two months, so I eagerly took the opportunity to continue making money knowing I would be unlikely to find work back home.
Shortly, the company began disembarking crew members from this (and other ships) in droves. Hundreds of crew members were disembarking every day. While there had been no testing done for the virus on the ship (and despite care being taken with both remaining and disembarking crew) approximately 200 crew members remained when multiple people, including a close friend of mine, tested positive upon their arrival home. This resulted in the stop of all disembarkation of the remaining crew off the ship, and a demand was made for tests to ensure the virus on the ship was contained, and any future crew members wishing to go home were confirmed negative before travel.
While I understand that with impending country border closures and travel bans, the company was trying to get as many people home as possible; I think a plan should’ve been devised by the home office to be implemented on all ships, that would place all crew members in a mandatory 14 day quarantine, with testing, before being allowed to disembark and travel home. This was a feeling that was echoed amongst few others on the ship, as everyone was eager to make it back to their families, but it likely and unfortunately resulted in others being infected (possibly even myself).
Once it was discovered that a close friend had tested positive, I immediately sought out the doctor and offered to be placed in isolation, hours before the official order came from the master of the ship. Myself, and a select group of people who hung out together (with the aforementioned crew member) were instructed to pack our bags because we would be moved into isolation for 14 days. This was received differently throughout the people of the group: with some (myself included) being understanding and wanting to do what was best for the health of others, some being scared, and one being angry. His anger was understandable because it meant that it would be unlikely he would be able to find a way home to his family in a reasonable amount of time, especially since all disembarkation immediately stopped (whether by command of the company or the port authority).
I asked whether or not we would be allowed to return to our original cabins afterward, I was assured I would and decided to only pack a small travel bag with 3-4 outfits (figuring I could spend time without clothes while alone on or would not need as many clothes) They brought us to the same cabins that had been used for isolation during the virus scare of our last cruise (see my previous blog entries), but were moved up to larger balcony cabins in a passenger area the next day. The people moving us make it very clear that they were moving us for the optics: if the shore authorities, or anyone else were to see us, they wanted to make sure that we were comfortable. We were told we were expected to be tested in the next couple days. Thus the normal everyday cycle of eating, doctor examinations, and trying to pass the time began.
The first 14 days passed very slowly; likely because I had something to look forward to: getting out; but unfortunately, it didn’t really work out that way. Now time slips by much more quickly. (I still can’t believe it has been over a month since that first 14 days passed.)
Testing
Despite being told that we would be tested early into our isolation, we were not tested until day 15. On day 14 we were allowed to briefly leave the cabin (standing by in case the doctors came aboard the ship), but the following day, we were not allowed to leave at all because of testing. I do wish the company or doctor had warned me in advance what the test consists of. Though I doubt it would’ve made much difference, because there is no way to prepare for a cotton swab being shoved up your nose.
Having now gone through the test 6 times (as of my writing this), I have become a bit of a pro (with the doctors and nurses all remarking that I am one of the only people who doesn’t flinch, gag, or react in a negative way to the test being done. My tests have come back positive, positive, negative, positive, negative, and am waiting for the results of my final test. Despite my time in quarantine and isolation, we are not allowed to leave until we receive two consecutive negative tests. A feat made all the more difficult by the inaccuracy of the test, because (according to studies) the test can show positive when inert fragments of the virus are still present in the sinuses, despite posing no threat.
The authorities in the port, are also incredibly strict regarding their testing policy. For the first couple tests, we were only given tests once every two weeks (with a confirmation test given for negative results after only a couple days) and results coming back a harrowing 24-96 hours later. While they have since increased testing to a frequency of one-per-week, they do not regard any positive as a false positive. When my first negative was met with a positive shortly after, my doctor pleaded with the authorities to treat this as a false positive (as I had just had a negative and I had been in isolation for over 40 days at the time). This was rejected and the cycle started all over again.
We recently, in the past couple weeks, have begun preparing for the tests by clearing out our sinuses and gargling with a peroxide and water solution, and swabbing our sinuses with a small amount of vaseline. The peroxide is known to kill the virus on surfaces and is not harmful to the body in small quantities (thought very uncomfortable to stick up your nose) and I am not entirely sure the benefit of the vaseline (but who am I to argue with the expertise of the doctor that has truly had my best interests at heart throughout this process). These have met with mixed results (see myself and my mixed bag of test results), but I have diligently kept up with the regimen because, at this point, I will drink peroxide if it meant I would get to finally go home.
The Cabin
As I stated before, it was made pretty clear that we were being moved into the passenger cabin for optics. However, regardless of the reasoning, this was something that company did that I agree with. While we aren’t sailing, there is no reason why the crew can not occupy passenger cabins. Every crew member is now being held in a balcony cabin on the ship and they are to treat it like any crew cabin they are staying in; they are responsible for the cleanliness of the cabin, disinfecting etc. (which is made difficult when the first couple weeks lacked any provisions like replacements for clean linens or toilet paper). Because everyone on the ship is now in isolation (save for 30 or so crew members), we are provided with disinfectant, and vacuums are nearby for cleaning purposes, but the entirety of our time is spent confined by these “four walls.” We are not supposed to go to other people’s cabins and other people are not supposed to come to ours (thought some people have not abided by that rule very strictly). This is especially true of the quarantine area of the ship (which is located on a different floor than the rest of the crew) where doctors come to our cabins twice daily (once in the morning and once in the afternoon) to monitor our oxygen levels in our blood, and our body temperatures.
While the cabins themselves are comfortable (despite no air conditioning to avoid the spread of contaminated air and occasional high cabin temperatures with no fans), I have begun to view them as cushy prison cells with a view. Much like Alcatraz’s legendary view of the city of San Fransisco, every day I can look out from the balcony at a city that is so close, and yet so unreachable. I can spend every day talking with my friends and family on the phone (if I choose to, and am willing to pay for it… more on that shortly), but they are ultimately just faces and voices from a phone. The most face-to-face interaction I have is with the doctors, the restaurant workers who bring food, and the housekeeping crew who bring us clean linen when they come to my door. Which, for a highly social person like myself, could also be described as my own personal hell. Contributing to this feeling is the recent hopelessness that has overtaken me more often than not. I feel like this will ultimately stretch on indefinitely, with freedom so tantalizingly close, but never am I able to reach it.
It is also worth noting that in a cabin with little more than a bed, a couch, a tv (with only 2-3 channels per language), a chair, and a bathroom, there is little to occupy most of the time in the day. I have found myself sleeping more, bathing more, and playing more cell-phone games in an effort to kill hours that seem to drag on endlessly. Unfortunately, keeping myself sane during these months hasn’t come free.
Paying to stay onboard
This section is going to encapsulate a lot of what makes me very frustrated to be in this position. It has now become public knowledge that my company (as well as many others) have decided to “freeze” the contracts of their crew members (while keeping the crew on the ships) relieving them of their obligation to pay. However, our contracts are based on a union mandated collective bargaining agreement. In that agreement it states that we are supposed to be paid until we are disembarked (or as is my understanding). Since none of us have been disembarked (nor have I signed anything agreeing to a freezing or termination of my contract), the company is supposed to continue paying us (despite their assurances that we will not be “required” to work during this time… as if I have a choice).
This is more infuriating for me, as I stayed on the ship, (resulting in me missing my opportunity to make it home and possibly resulting in my infection with the virus) because of the promise of pay. I didn’t chose to get infected and not work, and there are clauses in the contract that also cover us for situations including times where we are medically unable to perform our duties. The contract also states, “A seafarer requested by the Company to leave his employment before the agreed period of service on board the vessel has expired, through no fault of his own… or on the loss, laying up or sale of the vessel, shall be entitled to receive compensation equivalent to 2 (two) months of basic monthly wage.” I have been hearing from others that the company has been playing on the loyalties of their crew members and getting them to sign documents forfeiting their rights to this money in exchange for the promise of returning to a contract within 6 months, otherwise the company will pay. But it is my understanding of the contract that the company is obligated to pay regardless of when (or if) we go back to work.
While this news has, of course, rubbed me the wrong way, and I am frustrated for myself; I am more worried for other people. There are a great number of people still stuck on the ships, who work to support families back home. Those families rely on the income generated by these people and now their pay has ceased, with no way for them to get home and hopefully find another job. Making that situation worse for both my fellow crew members and I, is that many of us are paying to be here.
Once I was moved into a passenger cabin, I noticed something horrifying: the internet wasn’t working. The company, at the start of this pandemic, implemented free social media internet service for all crew members onboard. This, to me, was a bandaid, as few things on social media were likely to occupy 50 days worth of isolated time. But soon, it became worse when I realized that the cabin they had moved me to, couldn’t even get the meager internet the company was willing to provide. This was brought to the attention of the hotel director (who did champion free internet for those of us being put into isolation), but nothing ever came of it. It soon became increasingly apparent that I would need a new SIM card. Luckily I was able to get one from a coworker to hold me over (so long as I paid to put data on it) until I was able to procure one of my own. My mother swooped in and located one on Amazon Italia and it reached me after about a week. This (along with the first recharge of my coworker’s SIM) was the first of many charges that has now reached over 300 euro between my family and myself. This money is just for me to have cell phone service enough to contact my family, watch the occasional TV show (though not too much to run down my data) and attempt to keep myself occupied since the ship hasn’t provided us with anything to meet those ends. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for crew members stuck out at sea since they can’t use cell phone service and aren’t receiving free internet from the company.
Food
Most other charges I have incurred have been a result of food. To understand why this is even a necessity, allow me to discuss the food situation on the ship. For the first two weeks of isolation (during which time food was still being prepared on the ship), the food was pretty standard crew-mess fare and was nothing to write home about, being brought to us three times per day along with a 1 liter bottle of water). They usually abided by most dietary restrictions if it could be helped (thought I did occasionally come across meat on my plate, despite 15 years of being a vegetarian, and them having been made aware of it). Unfortunately, most food on the ship is very carb heavy and this was no exception, with a heavy emphasis placed on white rice and pasta for most of my meals.
Once all non-essential crew were placed in isolation (including kitchen staff) food was provided for us from off the ship. I believed this was being provided by the port authority (as I was told that it was delivered to the ship on a near-daily basis) though I am now unsure. Once this method of food delivery was established the care and quality of the food (which is little more than hospital quality) dropped substantially. There were days where they brought me meat by accident and I would return it to the people delivering the food, reminding them that I can not eat it (effectively cutting my meal in half); but the worst were the days where they only had meat. Very little solutions were proposed to solve this dilemma, and only once was I called to ask if I would like some cheese sandwiches instead (the sandwiches were just cheese and lettuce on bread rolls, but I appreciated the effort nonetheless).
It has only been a couple days since we have begun fully functioning kitchen duties again, and since then I have had two meals where my entire meals has been ONLY white rice and potatoes. While I understand the kitchens may need time to get back up in to their normal functionality, it seems like very little care is taken to meet crew members’ basic nutritional standards if they require certain dietary restrictions. This is true for not only me, who is a vegetarian by choice, but for those with celiacs disease, or food allergies, who regularly received foods they also can not eat. This is why food is a cause for spending more money.
While we are in isolation, the crew shop is open and is operated by the shop manager (who is considered essential personnel). She can be reached by phone at certain times of the day and will take orders, charge it to your cabin and it will be brought up to your cabin in the afternoon. That means that snacks (to eat between the 7.5 hour difference from lunch at 12:30pm and dinner at 8:00pm or to supplement meals when we can’t eat part/all of them) have to be paid for by us.
There are also some of us who have had to pay for additional beverages. For a period of time, we were getting about 3 liters of water per day. This was then cut down to about 1.5 liters of water per day (delivered only at lunch) with a juice box in the morning (and even some days with only 1 liter of water to last for the whole day). Only a couple weeks ago the company began delivering soft drinks for us at dinner or lunch and provided us with a kettle for us to make tea, but before that time, the only things we had to drink were room temperature water. So some people took to going in to their mini-fridge (located in each passenger cabin). In those mini-fridges there were soft drinks, additional waters, some alcohol, and some snacks and people informed me that they chose to drink some of these. However, it was then decided by the ship, that the people in these cabins would be charged for anything missing from these refrigerators. Not only were they charged (even for things like water), but they were charged passenger prices, which are considerably higher than what we pay as crew members. This is precious money that many crew members need as we are not getting paid any more to be here, despite not having other options because we can not order drinks.
Laundry
While internet may be a sore spot for me and others paying for their entertainment, and the food may sometimes be barely edible, we now reach an issue that subjected us to a status of nearly subhuman. As I stated before, I was only expecting to come in to isolation for 14 days, and packed very lightly (I didn’t want to have to pack, unpack, repack, and unpack again in a span of two weeks). After a few weeks in isolation, it was remarked by both myself and my neighbor (when we chatted on facebook) that we were unaware of how we would be able to do our laundry. Our isolation had been extended (for at least two more weeks), but we hadn’t been given any chance to procure any more provisions or clean the ones we had. When my neighbor inquired about laundry, he was told to do it in his cabin.
Because I didn’t have any laundry detergent in my cabin, and soaking my clothes in hot water wasn’t likely to do anything except cause them to shrink, I just gritted my teeth and dealt with it (even when my isolation was extended YET AGAIN due to another positive test result). When (after a false alarm with one negative test), I realized I wouldn’t be leaving, I had had enough. I had been wearing the same clothes for 45 days and I asked my doctor how I could go about washing them. Her, being the amazing person that she is, offered to do them for me. She then pushed the ship command to implement a laundry service for us, though I can not imagine what took them so long to do so.
I have since managed to get the last of my stuff out of my old cabin providing me with more clothes and laundry detergent. I have also done a load of laundry (my socks and underwear, which we were told would NOT be done by the ship) in my bathtub… a situation I never would’ve foreseen for myself.
Communication
Being in this situation is hard. Being in this situation with little to occupy your time is harder. Being in this situation with little to occupy your time while the world goes on outside your door and you are given little information as to its happenings is hardest. While I know a lot of what is happening in my country through the news I watch on the tv or on my phone, much of what happens on the ship or with the company remains a mystery. A lot of information tends to make its way to us through news publications; which has, at least for me, made me feel like we are not worth being told the things that are happening.
For the first couple weeks, we were told that we could contact the doctor, the bridge or the hotel director if we needed anything or had any questions. However, most of those people have since disembarked (including the captain whose position was taken over by the staff captain), making communication much more difficult. My main doctor, who is amazing, was quarantined herself for a while and was replaced with a doctor who speaks very little English. The captain would come to see us about once-per-week, but with very little new information. We were, on rare occasion, only given a sheet of paper with some updates (like the announcement of payment ceasing).
While in more recent weeks, at the insistence and with the aid of the home office (according to sources), the ship has been trying to keep abreast of more announcements that they deem essential. Unfortunately, certain breaking news situations have not been shared with us. For instance the operational updates of the company, including when the company expects to be up and running again and any delays, or even the death of a fellow crew member. It was discovered when it was reported in the news that a crew members from the ship had passed away from the virus and the company and the ship never shared that information with us. This is very disheartening because there are people who may have been close with that person (as many people are want to do when living together for months).
But it isn’t just the communications from the ship that are lacking. Communications directly from the company have been incredibly rare. Despite being made aware of my situation and my infection with the virus, I was never reached out to by my heads of department to check in on me. In fact it took over four weeks for ANYONE from the home office to reach out to me and see how I have been doing (excluding my fleet supervisor). Now having done so, they have been supportive, pleasant and understanding, regularly reaching out to me and informing me of things I was previously unaware of: there are people (therapists or similar) to help crew members cope during this time and there is a website set up by the company to help keep us occupied. Despite having a strong understanding that these are very uncertain times and everything is very fluid, I feel it would do right by the crew members to keep them updated more frequently, even if you have to later explain that situations have changed and the earlier information may no longer be accurate.
While many of these things would’ve had little impact on my day-to-day life, combined with an overall feeling of being kept in the dark, it is hard to get a clear picture of when I may be able to get home.
