Week 4: Down is Up (& vice versa)

Dear Friends & Family,

I thought of several titles for this email. Contenders included “Ship Life” and “Do I really get paid for this?” but neither was quite as comprehensive as I required. Down is up – a radical perspective shift – kind of like the Peace Corps, but more nonsensical.

Today, I’m in Cozumel, Mexico (which I think is an island, I’m pretty sure it’s on the Atlantic side) videoing a snorkeling expedition off of a Catamaran boat. Later it started to rain, so I tucked my camera away and drank a margarita. But carrying around and manipulating the camera and tripod can be demanding. By the end of a four-hour tour I’m completely wiped and still have to edit until midnight.

The cruise ship guests love to ask me about my job – just as I like to ask the American bartender in St. Thomas or the Catamaran guide in St. Martin how they ended up there. It occurred to me only later that if I were the bartender I’d ask the same thing to the cruise line videographer. It’s pretty great living in Vacationland (as it was living on the gorgeous Maine Coast). I can’t help but feel good around the guests that have made it their mission to have an absolutely great time. In what other job will people scream with joy or dance for you simply because you point at them? That’s cool. Coming from an unpleasant rut in my life, the sunny Caribbean is like – whoa this exists? I’m sure that’s how a lot of vacationers feel (especially the Canadians). But vacations are just that – a short respite from reality. When you live on the cruise ship it is easier to consider that there are other worlds than the ones I know and the possibilities are unlimited.

I am starting to sink into routine on this boat. I have no set schedule, but have gotten a handle on the terminology and most of my responsibilities. The ports of call are distinguishable now.

I shot from a parasail the other day. I finally felt like a pro manipulating this large and somewhat unwieldy piece of technology while strapped into a parasail. The footage looked great. To my surprise Ionut, my manager, asked me if I was “fucking crazy” to take the camera into such a risky situation. “Not at all, and the camera is fine.” “Well…” said Ionut, “Don’t do it again.” Kirk, my co-worker, trainer, and incorrigible ladies man – who had mentioned the week before that he had planned to shoot from the parasail himself – looked the other way. Just an example of not knowing where the unwritten line is and hearing different interpretations of it by different people. But I am merely a first contractor. I have barely finished my first month. As my fellow documentary filmmakers know, feigning ignorance will get you through. I plan to use this excuse as long as I can.

This past week, also, I have also been exchanging in depth emails with Sean Sauber, a fellow filmmaker I met at the Workshops about starting up a documentary production company. We’ll be working on the business plan soon. I could not be more excited. More to come.

I have a lot of acquaintances now on the ship, but am lacking any real friends. I suspect I am not alone in this. There are many people here that I get along with, but as we all work different schedules it can be hard to connect. One such person is Alezandre (sp?) from Croatia, but he claims Serbian nationality. His parents were both workers under a socialist regime and though I equate that as meaning he comes from a blue-collar family I am sure it is very different. He works in the Crew Mess everyday to 5 pm to 5 am. “You must work very hard,” he says to me when I come in at 9 pm, “you always miss dinner.” I do work hard so I nod my head, but I’ll never tell him that I just stopped in for my post-dinner snack. Not when I think about the hours he works seven days a week.

I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to hang out. I’ll get up early sometimes and watch the sunrise. If Alezandre did the same it would be right before he went to sleep. I only see him when he is working, but we’ll exchange a “hello” when we see each other. It’s like waving at someone you know while driving different cars down the highway.

I don’t mean to say that I’m not having fun. I am! But how can I be completely at ease? After a night at the disco boozing to the dj’s blaring tunes, before I go back to my room, I go out to the bow of the ship. On the wind is the faint song of a girl singing to herself in a language from halfway around the world. I cannot understand the words, but there is a longing the melody. I stay and listen. So many seem beaten down by the monotony of routine or the long hours, but underneath there must be so many stories.

That’s all for now. I am very grateful to my friends and family for reading this and staying connected to me although it’s not easy! Oh also, don’t mistake a Turk for an Italian. Not as bad, but still…

Cheers,
DSM