2022 has been a very strange year, and a very ordinary year at the same time. Things were finally back to normal, in a vague sense of the word ‘normal.’ It’s been a blur. When I looked back through my photos it was a massive shock that I began the year in Dubai, because it feels light lightyears ago.
This year, I have travelled a lot.
My sense of home has vanished almost completely, (if it was ever there in the first place), because this year the only place I’ve lived for long enough to call home, was a massive ship sailing around the ocean. I’m not complaining about that, pals. Don’t get me wrong. It’s just that a ship probably has one of the least ‘homely’ atmospheres of all.
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January.
At exactly 00:00 on the 1st of January, my plane landed at Dubai airport and fireworks erupted on the horizon across the city. A fan of horizontal explosions burst outwards from the Burj Khalifa. The whole plane applauded. It was pretty cool, I have to admit. Even though we were miles away from the action.
Into the glossy white cavern of the airport, and a makeshift booth, where a swab was swivelled around each of my nostrils and a sticker placed on my passport to show border control. “PCR tested: Dubai Airport.” The last time I had transited through Dubai Airport was in the spring of 2020, a few weeks before the world locked down; it felt like a strange full circle.
I sat in a taxi for an hour and a half in completely gridlocked roads, watching the skyscrapers and palm trees and the intriguing mixture of people on the streets outside. I had been to the Middle East before, to Israel and Jordan- but being in Dubai felt like being in space in comparison. I was brought back down to earth when I was dropped at a Travelodge, and then back up again when I got into my room and discovered it seemed to have been set up as if I was on honeymoon. A very solo kind of a honeymoon. A pair of hand towel swans sat resplendent on the bed, which happened to be covered in rose petals. I fell asleep and was rudely awakened at 4am by the sound of booming thunder. White lightning flashes shot through the curtains, and I opened them to see rain pelting the city-in-the-desert and bouncing violently off of the pavement. This was a very strange, but very dramatic, way to begin 2022.
I was in Dubai to board a cruise ship as a guest entertainer with my pal Rachel. (If you’re a regular reader, you’ll probably know who she is.) What an opportunity! I had never been before, and to see this part of the world with Rachel- whilst working- well I felt extremely lucky, that’s for sure. We docked in Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Sir Bani Yas, and Muscat in Oman. We saw camels in the desert at sunrise, went to the top of the Burj Khalifa, drank actual gold in coffee, spent Rachel’s birthday being blasted my sand at Sir Bani Yas island, and visited the Sheikh Zayed Mosque at night. We also stumbled upon a bizarre abandoned theme park in Muscat, which was actually a highlight for me, mainly for photographic reasons. The audiences on board were great, and our shows were going swimmingly. I had also managed to work enough German into my solo show to feel weirdly proud of myself. Good one, me.
Covid was still a big deal at this point in time; all passengers and crew wore masks, and we had to bring proof of our Covid vaccinations at any place we visit in the United Arab Emirates. As time wore on, the numbers of cases crept up and at some ports we could no longer go outside unless it was as part of a paid passenger tour.
Three weeks into our four week contract, we were enjoying a peaceful but very rocky sea day in the Persian Gulf, when disaster struck. All cruises on our ship were to be cancelled until further notice, so we would be flown home as soon as we arrived in Dubai. What ensued over the next 24 hours was pure madness.
The sky was completely blue with not a cloud in sight, but it was so windy that the ship was rocking like a seesaw; the view from my balcony was alternating between sea and sky on a continuous loop. Something had been damaged at the port in Dubai, which meant we couldn’t dock, even though we had a flight to catch. (A hypothetical flight. We had no idea when this flight might occur, other than ‘ASAP’). We waited all day and evening for news of our flights, having been told to pack immediately. Every few hours we received a phone call telling us that we would probably be leaving in the next few hours, so we should stay awake so that we’re ready to go, although we were no closer to being able to dock.
But still, we should stay awake, because we might have to leave at any time.
We hastily downed several bottles of Prosecco in the hope that it would keep us awake, and spent approximately an hour sat on my balcony trying to see Dubai in the pitch black night, drunkenly voice noting everyone we knew to inform them of this utter catastrophe. At about 4am we made it to breakfast, attempting to look not drunk. The ship continued to rock and we continued to be nowhere near Dubai; at this point we gave in and got a few hours sleep.
We actually finally got off the ship the following evening, after a call from reception. “Go, now! To the gangway! Run!” We ran, and discovered the gangway was already being raised. It was like Sinbad the Sailor but on a massive cruise ship. They lowered the gangway, we trundled off, and were left standing in a deserted cruise terminal while the ship blew its horn and began to sidle away from the harbour. After a while a man who looked not unlike the Sultan of Agrabah, rings and turban and all, appeared and claimed to be our taxi driver. “Which airline?” We didn’t even know whether we had flights at this point, let alone which airline they might be with.
Luckily, we had the same flight, in the middle of the night, to London Heathrow. British Airways gave us a full English and afternoon tea and that was that. Bobs your uncle, back to Blighty.
February.
After a week in the Kent countryside saying hello to the sheep and my favourite oak tree, I got myself over to Croatia for a few days. You might be thinking- ‘more sunshine! Lucky you!’ But Croatia is freezing cold in winter. Which was a surprise for me, too. This was more about hanging out with my boyfriend and his family than being a tourist though, and it was nice to go somewhere and just chill for a bit. Mostly we kept inside, out of the rain, venturing outside now and again when the sun peeked out.
I had a short time back in England, saying bye to my pals and family, and then it was time to start work again. This time it would be on a six month contract, back in the show ensemble so that Slaven and I could be on board together for a full contract. But step one, is going to Hamburg to have a medical exam. Anyone who works as crew on a ship has to have a full medical exam before embarking to show that they’re fit for duty, and my medical had to be all the way over in Germany- which also meant I got to pop in and see Rachel!
However, disaster struck on the morning that I flew to Hamburg. Whilst getting ready in my hotel room at Heathrow, I switched on the news and saw that Russia had invaded Ukraine. All flights out of the country were grounded, meaning that six of our dancers and circus artists were stuck in their home country, which had turned into a war zone overnight. The men would definitely not be allowed to leave for the foreseeable future, and the women were stuck until further notice.
After the medical, I flew to Gran Canaria where the remainder of the cast boarded the ship together- the first show ensemble to be performing in the theatre since Covid began. We had two singers from the UK, and two from the USA, one handstand artist from Canada, and one dancer from the UK. One Brazilian dancer had tested positive for Covid during his medical so was quarantined in Germany, and four dancers and two circus artists were Ukrainian. All of these Ukrainians could not get out of Ukraine.
Restrictions on board were still a-plenty, and the cruises were super quiet, with the ship often being barely even at half of its maximum guest capacity. Each of us began the contract with five days quarantined alone in a passenger cabin with a balcony, with food being brought directly to our doorway. (And occasionally, not being brought at all.) I’ll be honest. This was not a fun time, for various reasons which I won’t go in to on the internet. But it was not fun. We’ll leave it there.
March.
Rehearsals were insanely, and I was incredibly glad that I knew all the shows already; although the last time I’d performed them had been in 2020, on a different ship in the Indian Ocean. Before Covid hit, we would rehearse in Hamburg for six weeks prior to boarding a ship; but now, all rehearsals happen on board and often on the stage in front of passengers. It’s a whole new world out here, folks. Throw in the drills and the food and ship rules and the weirdness of daily Covid tests, and it actually makes for a very tense working and living environment.
We rehearsed every day, whilst sailing to Gran Canaria, Lanzarote, La Palma, Fuerteventura, Tenerife and Madeira. I actually love the Canary Islands, but a reality check- during the entire time we were sailing on this route, I was mostly on the ship, rehearsing. I never had time to get off in Lanzarote, and only had an occasional couple of hours outside in the other ports.
Still: it was so great to be back in a big team, all on stage together. One thing that I’d really missed during my guest artist contracts was having the camaraderie of the rest of a cast around me, so it was all round brilliant to feel that again.
One of our Ukrainian dancers managed to leave Ukraine via road, and she joined us a few days late, but the others were not able to start the contract. Instead, two of my lovely circus artist friends came directly to us from another ship in the Caribbean as they could no longer go home- which would mean that by the end they’d have been living on a cruise ship for almost an entire year. (Mindblowing, as six months is more than enough.) A couple of other Ukrainian dancers were sent to join us, and one German dancer as well.
April.
At the beginning of April the ship started to make its way back to mainland Europe, stopping at Lisbon, A Coruña, and Dover, on the way. We finally had a day off when we docked in Dover, on the one day that I wasn’t allowed outside! But it’s ok folks, this is the nature of cruise ships. I was mentally prepared for this. And our rehearsal period officially finished, although the dancers who’d arrived late were still learning. We performed the shows we were able to, and gradually slotted the dancers in.
Our new home port- that’s where every cruise begins from- was Warnemünde, a pretty beach town in the north of Germany, and our original itinerary for April through August was planned to alternate between ten days in Scandinavia, and then ten days in the Baltic. But with the raging lunacy of Putin continuing, it was decided that the Baltic Sea was probably not a great place to sail through. Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, Finland and last but not least Russia- St Petersburg, to be exact, were a no-go zone. I was sad not to be going to these places, but I was sadder that my friends’ country was being torn apart by a madman.
We ended the month with a set of four day cruises to and from Stockholm, which was freezing but pretty- I’ll give you that, Stockholm. We explored the old town, ate fika, and wrapped up as warmly as possible. Meanwhile on board, the restrictions continued. Every few days we’d realise that a colleague was missing and it would turn out that they’d been quarantined due to Covid. Each department had to eat in crew mess at specific times, to minimise contact with others. Socialising wasn’t allowed, and crew bar was closed.
I was grateful for having Slaven on board, and also that we were still allowed outside. (Outside meaning, anywhere off the ship, on land.) My main thought the whole way through this was that as long as we could still go outside, I would actually be fine. And I was.
May.
Guess where we got re-routed to, instead of our Baltic cruises? My old friend Norway. In fact we spent May 1st playing in thick white snow in Olden.
I have a love/hate relationship with Norway, mainly because it’s mostly raining and freezing cold. There’s no denying it’s a beautiful country, and the fjords and mountains are magical, but the cities are also super expensive. A month in Norway is fine, but any more than that and I start to go a bit loopy.
But this time it worked out kind of ok, mainly because our route was so very strange. The ship had had to be scheduled into a variety of other ports at very short notice, so our route was completely irregular. We called at the Swedish island of Gotland, and the cities of Gothenburg, Karlskrona and naturally Stockholm. In Denmark we ported in Aarhus, Skagen and Copenhagen, and in Norway a strange collection of known and unknown (to me) ports. Bergen, Eidfjord, Nordfjordeid, Vik, Olden and Oslo.
People were still a little bit unsure about being on a cruise ship, and a lot of our voyages still had barely any passengers. In fact, for one Norwegian cruise there were so few people on board that the entire crew was invited upstairs at all times to ‘make it feel fuller.’ It still felt like a ghost ship compared to the pre-Covid days, but we ate in passenger restaurants for every meal, crew were allowed to sit in the theatre to watch our shows, and every party felt more like a crew party than a passenger one.
Crew bar also opened this month! This was mainly great because it saved everyone a lot of money. When the only way to socialise after work is by going to a passenger bar, even with a crew discount the drinks prices add up. In crew bar a beer is less than €1. Not that I actually drink beer. But, you get the point.
June.
After just over three months on board, we were finally able to perform every show we had with a full cast! Huzzah! The rehearsals and re-stagings slowly came to an end, just in time for them to begin again. Typical.
When they lifted the requirement for all passengers to wear masks and have a pre-embarkation Covid test, the crew became instantly rife with Covid. Crew bar re-closed, and we were no longer allowed upstairs. Thankfully we could still get daylight on the crew sundeck, but a life without windows is a tricky one, pals. I felt particularly bad for anyone who worked downstairs, without sunlight and fresh air, but also without the time to go outside and get it.
The show ensemble were dropping like flies, and the re-stagings began again whilst each person was given time to be ill and quarantined. Anyone who tested positive- whether they felt ill or not- was immediately quarantined in a passenger cabin with a balcony, and weren’t allowed out until they tested negative. I got a fever which lasted a couple of days, plus all the Covid symptoms, but never tested positive for Covid. So I had to quarantine in my crew cabin, which is basically a tin box with no windows; for the first two days I was too delirious for it to matter, but afterwards the insanity set in. Also the need for some non-sick non-air-conditioned oxygen. But the doctor was adamant that whilst only Covid patients were allowed fresh air, I was also too ill to work or to risk infecting somebody else. Food was brought to me three times a day, and although I felt truly terrible, by day five I asked the doctor to please just sign me back into work so that I could see the sun and breath some non-conditioned-air. Call me dramatic but it was getting ridiculous. I don’t know what it was that I had, but it took me about a month before I was able to get through a show without chest pain.
On my birthday at the end of the month I finally went into Gothenburg! The city is so far away from the port that often we would simply walk around a tiny nature park and then go and sit in the Volvo Museum in the middle of the industrial estate. In fact, June 27th 2022 is the only time I have been into the city of Gothenburg, despite having arrived in port at least fifteen times. I had a beaut evening with my lovely cast, and they gave me a Polaroid camera which I full on blooming love.
July.
All change! Crew allowed upstairs again!! When it came to covid restrictions, it was like the Hokey Cokey on our ship. In out, in out, shake it all about.
I was loving exploring Stockholm, Oslo and Copenhagen in particular; these Scandinavian cities are all so beautiful in their own special ways. I succumbed to the scooters in Stockholm; the public transport here is brilliant, but if you’re a crew member wanting to get from A to B quickly, these incredibly annoying vehicles actually kind of make sense. Even though I was terrified to ride through traffic on one. We had several overnights in Stockholm- which is when the ship stays for two days- and we enjoyed several overpriced cocktails at some very lovely cocktail bars in the process.
And towards the end of July came the moment I’d been waiting for: the new cast arrived on board to start their rehearsals! I was so incredibly grateful to be on this contract, with these people, but six months is an extremely long time to be living on a boat for. Especially when you factor in the Covid and the sickness and the rules. I was, by this point, looking forward to the end.
August.
Slaven left a week into August, and I enjoyed the last three weeks of the month on my own with my cast. I wanted to make the most of seeing all these ports, even if I’m not the biggest fan of Norway. (Soz, Norway.) And I had a few really beaut days outside, hiking in the countryside or wandering through the city streets. That’s one thing that I love about working on a ship; getting to know a place. In most ports I have a favourite coffee shop or snack bar, and I know my way around some cities as if I’d lived there.
We had a few secret parties to say farewell; because this contract was full of secret parties. And on August 31st, at long long last, it was time to fly home!! I disembarked in Warnemünde and flew directly from Hamburg to London, losing half my luggage in the process.
A note to all flyers across the whole world: British Airways are now at the bottom of my list of airlines, having lost my luggage and severely broken it in the process, then admitted their fault and refused to do anything about it. I’m no pushy customer, but that experience really took the biscuit.
September.
Hurrah for home! I had six days in England which I mostly spent cooking all my favourite foods and walking around the countryside saying hi to the cows and sheep. It’s the simple things in life, isn’t it?
Afterwards, I flew to Rijeka in Croatia, for a few weeks with Slaven. You may or may not remember that I visited Rijeka at the beginning of the year and it was absolutely freezing. Not any more, oh no!! The weather was gorgeous, and by early September the tourist crowds had thinned out. We spent some time in Rijeka, but also went to visit family in Istria. My normal style of exploring involves mostly wandering around taking in the atmosphere, but Slaven is very much more an adrenaline-hunting sort. So naturally we visited a massive water park as well as a climbing adventure park, where I surprised myself by not just completing two of the courses but also of deciding to strap myself into a bungee catapult which flung me horizontally back and forth across the countryside. Who’d have thought it?
After returning to Rijeka and having all the grandparent dinners, it was time to head off on a road trip south to the little island of Vis in Dalmatia. Oh my goodness me. I’ve been to Dalmatia before, and every time I love it. But Vis is magical. This little island is off the normal tourist path, and was completely quiet but filled with pretty coves and scenic mountain roads. We explored a lot in four days on the island, and also got a boat to the neighbouring island of Biševo, where only a handful of people live. So imagine our surprise when we walked into a beach bar on Biševo and bumped into a girl who both of us knew (separately) from working on ships. I love the world.
I love travelling so much, but one of the most difficult things about being away for long periods of time is that you miss so many things at home. While we were in Croatia, we got the news that my great grandma had died. At a hundred years old, she’d lived a long long life, so it wasn’t a shock. But it’s still a strange feeling that I don’t think I’ll ever get used to.
October.
We headed back to England together, and set off on a road trip. (FYI: car hire in the UK is so expensive that I do not recommend it, although the road trip was actually awesome.) Slaven was the designated driver, because at 33 years old I still don’t have a license, and I was the designated route planner.
We stopped at Stonehenge, and then spent a few days in a cottage in north Cornwall. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to see thick pelting rain almost the entire time, but it still did. Next up we spent two days in a beautiful old railway carriage on a farm in Devon, which is one of my favourite places I’ve stayed in the UK, and lastly a couple of nights in the New Forest. Featuring ponies and pigs galore.
The rain kept on and off until we made it to Sussex, when the sky turned a glorious blue and the sun revealed itself like never before. They don’t call Eastbourne the Sunshine Coast for nothing. We spent a week here visiting all the friends and family, and by the end I was absolutely exhausted from all the socialising. So lord knows what Slaven felt like.
After he left, I headed up to Nottingham to see my oldest friend and his husband, inadvertently gatecrashing their anniversary celebrations by joining them on their trip to Sheffield to eat Greek food at the restaurant who catered for their wedding. I do have a habit of third-wheeling, and that habit doesn’t seem to be going anywhere even now I have an actual boyfriend. Don’t worry folks, they did invite me.
I had to briefly hop on over to Hamburg again to refresh my Basic Safety certificate before going back to work, and it was surprisingly a jolly good time! (Even in spite of the crack-of-dawn, the-sun-isn’t-even-awake-yet ferry ride to the training centre.) I spent three days in a classroom brushing up on my ship knowledge, which consists of things like fire safety, crowd management, security and first aid- with a dip in a freezing cold pool at the end to refresh my sea survival skills. What I thought was going to be pretty boring actually turned into a lovely reunion with ex-colleagues, with a bonus communal sharing of ship horror stories and gossip which I couldn’t possibly put on the internet because it’s all far too scandalous.
I spent the last few days of October back in Kent, re-packing my suitcases and all my possessions, and attempting to learn as much show material as possible before I started my next contract.
November.
The beginning of November was the start of the next chapter, because it was time to head on over to the Caribbean Sea for six months on a new ship- the AIDAPerla.
After a five and a half hour delay at Manchester airport, we were finally on our way to Barbados to board the ship. And in the two months vacation I had, the condition of life on board had changed drastically. (For the better, might I add.) The biggest improvement of all? Crew members no longer had to wear face masks! Praise the lord! The rules had relaxed for the passengers in the summer already, but it had taken a while to catch up with the crew. I was delighted.
There was also no quarantine period when crew boarded the ship, and no more weekly covid tests. (Or as I began to call them, brain swabs.) By some stroke of sheer absolute luck and madness, I also had no IPM code- which is a letter which determines the days crew are not allowed off the ship. No IPM code means full on freedom, and I couldn’t quite believe my luck.
We got to work rehearsing the new shows, and it was joyous to be learning material which was all new to me. Even though my brain was mildly fried. It was good brain-frying, you know? It was a busy busy time, and in the whole of November only managed a handful of times outside. Which was completely fine, but also mental that I’d been in the Caribbean for a whole month but was still white as a ghost.
December.
Halfway through December, we premiered each of our shows. This contract was already going far smoother than the previous one, mainly because we had a full cast right from the very start. It was a treat, I tell ya.
Just after premieres began, we had to start planning for Christmas. Christmas on board a ship is an insanely busy time for every single department, and for the theatre that means putting together a Christmas performance. Ours took place on Christmas Eve, which is when Germans celebrate, just after Father Christmas arrived via a lifeboat. Good lad.
No chimney? No problem.
We spent Christmas day in Curaçao, although as Slaven had to stay on board I decided to stick around with him. We had a few hours off together that day, and spent the afternoon in the spa, breathing in all the sauna air and hanging out in one of the hot tubs outside.
For the whole Caribbean season, we would be on a 14 day route porting at ten different Caribbean islands. And in December I managed to see six of them. The ABC Islands- i.e. Aruba, Bonaire, and Curaçao, three Dutch islands quite close to the top of South America- Guadeloupe, which is a beautiful French island, and good old Antigua.
It was all round fabulous to be back in the Caribbean, even if there was a lot more rain than normal. We spent New Years Eve at a beach in Fort-de-France, Martinique, and had an absolute calamity trying to make it back to the ship when a too-full-ferry refused to pick us up. I immediately started mentally preparing myself for a trip to the captain and/or what I would say when I was fired for being late back on board. But our luck was in, pals!
We made it back with five minutes to spare.
