Like Clockwork – At Sea – [01/20/2013]

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There are times when the job, as glamorous and as wonderful as it is, still feels like a job. I challenge you to find any job that doesn’t.  With no internet for three days, new policies coming in on board that really upsetting to many of the crew, a choker-block full ship that leaves us no space to breathe, and nine straight days at sea with no escape from any of this…currently, this is proving to be a grind. It will pass of course, once we start getting into the ports, but the trans-pacific? Always a challenge. Just a little bit more so this time.

Thankfully, I still have my own room for a few more days, I’m not required to move until the day before we make port in Tahiti. Tahiti itself proving to be an interesting port for me, as it has rather a lot of confusing – though mostly good – memories attached to it.

We cram these sea days full of as many activities as we possibly can. Later today we’ll throw a massive pool party on the aft deck (one of the downsides of being primary librarian as opposed to my old 50/50 job is that I won’t get to attend L ), which is sure to have everyone in fits of laughter, and end with many of my team mates dripping wet from the inevitable plunge into the pool.

Tomorrow is Easter Island, one of the most isolated and yet most anticipated ports on the route. The entire crew is crossing our fingers that we make it and that crew is granted shore leave. It’s always hit or miss on both counts, and if we do make it, then crew isn’t granted shore leave until the passengers have all gotten off, particularly the tours. Two years in a row I’ve missed it, once because I joined the ship after they’d been, and the second time because of IPM shenanigans (and that’s putting it kindly).So I’m really hoping that the third time is the lucky charm.

It’s been a challenging few days. Much as I love my job – and I do, I really truly do – there are times when it feels like I am merely a clockwork toy, with a lovely decorative key set between my shoulder blades. Sometimes that key gets wound very, very tightly, as the world tries to eke out that last valuable spot of energy from you, that last smile, that last little bit of sparkle – and sometimes there’s just one turn too many, and all the gears inside go “snap”. But, as always, we crawl around and pick them all back up again – even that one little one that’s rolled under the bed. And we get some sleep, and write home, and call friends and the key slowly unwinds again, and clockwork becomes flesh and life goes on…

Just please, don’t wind my key too tight.