Container Ship Story – Day 1

[Directly transcribed from my logbook – introduction to the trip here]

Monday, October 6^th, 2014.

The adventure! The adventure!

I left Brussels early this morning, it took me only a few minutes to reach the central station, then not even an hour in a train towards Antwerp. First photo: my two backpacks that sandwich me. Even if there is no real luggage weight restriction on a ship, I travel light because when in South America, I will have to carry everything.

 On this automn day, the weather is grey and chilly. Dutch is predominantly  spoken in the northern part of Belgium, even if French can still be heard once in a while. Anyway English was the easiest for me to interact with people at the station or in town.  A little bit ahead of my boarding appointment, I have time to walk around and take some rest in a small café. I don’t feel excited, however I peacefully enjoy the great satisfaction of finding myself in a travel situation again*.

It’s crazy how my sensations have changed: whereas in recent weeks I felt weak and not very self-confident, hitting the road and beginning this new odyssey have risen my energy level! I now feel myself in movement – although I do really not know where I’m going – and what is certain is I am about to live an extraordinary experience…

A taxi drives me from the city center to the harbour, without any problem. A bit expensive but no other option was possible. What a strange impression when I arrive! In front of my eyes, in real life, the huge white and yellow cargo ships of the Grimaldi company… I had so often looked at them on the internet, on marinetraffic.com, here, now, this is it, this is reality! 

Very good reception at the office at the terminal AET 1333 (AET for Antwerp Euro Terminal), as well as the point of regulation of the entry of trucks. There the man on duty checked my ticket and passport, then gave me a ride, with the security car, directly to the entrance of the cargo ship. I climb aboard straightaway, through the same gateway as cars do. No significant formalty here: my papers were inspected a second time but the contact with the crew is immediately super easy and friendly. 

[…]

On board, Gerald, the steward, shows me my cabin. First observation: not very spacious. Glad I am not sharing it with anyone! Originally in my research about cargo ships I was looking for a travel companion to share the room and the costs. Space is not very large, but there is everything I need: bed, cupboard, bathroom with towel and soap, even a small desk whose form of drawer cabinet unfortunately doesn’t allow room for the legs. Curious and excited, after leaving my bags I take a walk around, discover the kitchen, the dining room, the gym, the corridors: on such a boat they are called passageways, their walls regularly display safety instructions.

Back to my cabin, I take the time to settle: inflation of my pilates ball (yes!), unfolding of a map of the world, it will find its place near the cabin entrance. And of course, I start taking notes on my notebook. At that time, I still don’t truly realize where I am, but I am very happy: what a fantastic experience!!

After a while, second stroll, outside this time. The deck overlooks the harbor esplanade on which are conscientiously arranged containers and cars. Some towing vehicles and cranes are working, but the activity is at the moment far from being frantic. Cold air on my skin makes me put on my fleece jacket. I already like the wind… and we haven’t left yet! 

On the upper deck, there are wide and empty spaces. Don’t know yet if there will be things in there but this space already calls me. It is not likely that I can dance here, because of the bumps on the ground every 2 or 3 meters, but I love the place already. Elbows on the rail, eyes fixed on the horizon, I stay silent for a little while. The horizon is overcast but my intuition tells me it will clear up soon…

Bit by bit, I meet the crew members. Some of them will not make the crossing with me because they are at the end of their shift. On the contrary, some other will arrive tomorrow. All of them – only men – are happy to meet me and chat a few minutes. Back in my cabin, I am doubly glad to be able to listen to music: firstly it fills up the space and fosters good mood, secondly it covers a constant blower which prevents the silence to be soothing. I hope this background noise won’t keep me from sleeping…

In the evening, I discover the food service. First dinner on the container ship! I am asked to sit at the captain’s table, and like in a restaurant the steward brings us the dishes. Italian with long black hair, the captain is very different from old sailor with a grey beard that can be encountered in books… At the time of the meal I also get to know Laurent, only other passenger for this journey. He is a French retiree, very nice. We exchange our first impressions, both of us have eyes and ears wide open, delighted. He lends me a book called “cargo ship travel guide”, which I start reading immediately, with great pleasure.

Meal times are enjoyable moments: not only because of the very good food prepared by a professional Italian cook, but because they are all opportunities to get to know more the captain and navigation officers, as well as to collect information about the ship, the crew, the trip, the countries visited. For crew members, the days at port are intense working days; once at sea, they have a bit more free time. With Laurent,  we will find little by little our place in the pace of life aboard.  We still have many questions, but we still have plenty of time as well 🙂

At night, we go together for a walk, close to the “bridge”, the navigation room. Towing machines, cranes, containers form a real ballet and are much more magical at night than during the day. It rains a little; I don’t stay long because it is rather cold.

What could I add to this (half) day?

Yesterday, Julie, a friend of mine, showed me how to knit. I had learned it a long time ago but not practiced for ages! And so, I knit a little tonight, accompanied by the sound of bachata music. It’s a good activity: it requires concentration but different from working on a screen, is useful (the result will be a soft scarf that will warm me up during cold weather), pleasant to do, furthermore motivating as progress of the work is quickly visible.

With the perspective of a few weeks without phone or internet connection, I brought many things to do on board: 300 books in my e-reader, music and movies on my laptop, as well as meditations to listen to, a howl to sew – gift of my mother for the trip, a few origami and knitwear! I look forward to doing each of these activities… We leave only tomorrow at around 11 pm, therefore we have one more day to occupy before going to sea and spending some time watching the big blue…

I forgot to mention the sport room: with a bike, a ping pong table, a table soccer, darts, and different weights to lift, it offers a range of option to stay fit while traveling. Let’s see what I am going to use! A slight inconvenience is the absence of a mat for stretching or other moves. Doesn’t matter, will do in my own cabin. And I am glad I took a pilate ball, yay!

Buona notte.

 

*Author’s note: a few months before starting this journey I had already been travelling during 10 months.

 

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Continue reading (coming soon)

 

 

 

 

Oceanic Feeling (October 2014)

Oceanic Feeling is “a feeling of limitlessness; a sensation of an indissoluble bond, as of being connected with the external world in its integral form” (Wikipedia).

It is also the topic of a research thesis, whose full title is: “Psychological Study of Long-Distance Traveler – Oceanic Feeling and Emotions of The Elsewhere” (in French here). Very appropriate read in my case, first because I was actually crossing the Atlantic Ocean – aboard a container ship – and because I was transitioning between Europe and South America via Africa, after already 10 months of travels spent in Asia and Oceania.

 

My activities, thoughts and emotions while at sea are hand-written in a notebook – 70 pages in total. 

Today I am sharing with you an overview of the trip, as well as the story of the very first day.

My wish is to see the whole story published one day, either online or in a paper book – who knows… In the meantime, parts of this odyssey will be progressively released to the rhythm allowed by my life.

 

Details about the trip:

• Time spent on board: 23 days, from the 6/10/2014 until the 29/10/2014
• Origin: Antwerp, Belgium,
• Destination: Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
• Stopovers: Hamburg (Germany), Dakar (Senegal) and Vitória (Brazil).
• Ship: Grande America – Italian flag, length: 214m, heigth: 32m (13 storeys),
• Crew: 30 members, mostly Italians and Filipinos
• Speed: 15 to 17 knots at full power, corresponding to about 30 km / hour, hence around 720 km/day.

 

Diary:

• Day 1 – 6th of October 2014 
• Day 17 – 22nd of October 2014 – Crossing the Equator

 

 

Trusting a Stranger (28th of Apr. 2013)

Did your parents tell you not to follow someone you don’t know?

Well. Yet, that’s what I did in Madagascar in 2013…

Ambositra, in the centre of the country. I stop here, between Antsirabé and Fianarantsoa along the N7 road, because I have been told about the Safimaniry tribe, renowned for wood-carving.

I arrive on a Saturday, market day. Jumping off the taxi-brousse (van serving as collective transportation, typical from Madagascar), I first look for a place to stay for the night. Rather easy to find in low season. The hotel and its little garden are an oasis of peace and coolness in the middle of the tumult of the city centre. Great feeling after a few hours in a bus and a few minutes carrying my backpack under the sun. There, local guides show me their brochures with the possible excursions in the area. Tempting, but unfortunately  quite expensive. And there is not a single other fellow backpacker to share the costs…

My numb body and my desire to explore the city make me decide to go and walk around, before taking a decision.

So, up to the market!

Diving into the crowd, I make my way through the colourful and noisy stalls: juicy fruits & veggies, perfumed spices, chickens, ducks and gooses (NB: Madagascar also produces foie gras!). Almost everything can be bought and sold in this kind of market, even furnitures, fabrics, arts and crafts made of wood and raffia. The market seems to have no end…

While walking around, I am accosted by a guy, supposedly a guide, who suggests to show me a beautiful hike on the hill overhanging Ambositra. This is an itinerary I picked out from my guidebook earlier on, but I am not sure I could go by myself.

The trail is not very far from the city, therefore there is no real danger to follow him. Proposition accepted, after a little price negotiation (like always, in Madagascar ;-)).

And that’s how we go for a superb hike, with a beautiful panoramic view on the valley, mud houses, rice fields, mountains in the background. And even, funny animals spotted on the way: cameleon and “4 eyes” caterpillar.

While climbing up, we meet a lot of people, especially dozens of children, always saying “Vazahaaaaaaaa!” as soon as they see me. Vazaha is the Malagasy word to name white people; in kids’ mouth it is always very kind.

A discussion with children from another side of the hill sounds like this:

• Kids, from far, screaming: “hello Vazahaaa! What’s your name?”
• Me, answering, hands like a megaphone: “Na-tha-lie!”
• Kids, from far, screaming: “Naathaaaliiiiie!!… Naathaaaliiiie!!… Naathaaaliiie!! My name resonating again and again in the whole valley.

In Madagascar, as a white person, you get used to be noticed. Wherever you go, you are instantaneously surrounded by people who would like to serve you as a guide or sell you something. Truth to be told, sometimes it can be really bothering. But this time, being called by my first name, by many kids I can barely see, warms my heart. Big consequence for a simple and spontaneous behaviour. I feel noticed as a human being. This time, the relationship is not transaction-based, but human-based. Thanks kids.

In the countryside, kids are more often jokers, less “aggressive” than in cities, even if they also often ask for sweets or clothes.

That day, the people we meet on the way are very generous: I am offered hospitality for the night, not less than three times!

During what the 4-hour walk, the guy (I still don’t know if he is a real guide or not, but it doesn’t matter because he knows the way) suggests to organize a trip for me to one of the Safimaniry village, where some of his family members live. To follow him for the afternoon walk hasn’t been hard to decide. This time it is about going to a remote place with someone I don’t know from Adam, and spending the night in the village, with no guarantee whatsoever. What if he has bad intentions? What if he is interested in stealing my money or having sex with me?

I choose trust over suspicion.

The day after, at around 7 am, we take a taxi-brousse to reach the first step of the journey. This transportation mode is far less expensive than renting a four-wheel drive (what tourists usually do). The downside is that it takes us a looooong time to get to our destination: we stop many times, to exchange goods, to bring people, potatoes or chickens on board. And I am not talking about the comfort: in Mada, you share not only the ride but your seat as well, whether you want it or not! As an example, there are 17 of us in a 5-seat(+trunk)-vehicle (the picture below).

At around 10 am, we arrive in the first village, Antoetra. Naively, I think that we are going to link directly with the hiking. Error! Mada is a country where everything is done mora mora, which means slowly (similar concept as pole pole for those who know Kiswahili).

We sit down, drink tea, go and visit the family. Some relatives of Landry, the guide, live in this village. Amongst them, some are students who can speak French; it is nice to have this opportunity to communicate directly with them. I realize that Landry probably doesn’t often have the opportunity to come here, given the price of the transport. I feel sincerely happy that he can take advantage of our deal, not only financially.

Villagers give me a warm welcome; they haven’t seen a tourist here for about a month. We finally leave the village at around 12.30, after a traditional dish: rice with cooked leaves, cooked and eaten in the house of the parents themselves.

A trek through the mountains is on the menu of the afternoon.

We walk for hours, unfortunately the weather is not with us. A lot of rain is pouring on our back. Because of the clouds, the view remains entirely masked. Even at the top (1 800m), I can’t see anything. Fortunately, it clears up a bit when we go down to the village, and thus I can see the Safimaniry village of Sakaivo, our destination:

A few minutes later we are there. So far away from everything else, but it doesn’t matter. At that moment this tiny village is the centre of my world.

I am shown a room to leave my bag. Inside it is very dark, but beautiful, because wood-carved everywhere, from walls to shutters.

Within a second, heads of children appear at every open window. Curious eyes are staring at me. Questioning silently. There is beauty and magic in these moments. Encounter. Two worlds.

Women have their hair tightly braided, topped with a hat. They are beautiful. I am offered to braid mine. Accepted: a way to thank them for welcoming me and to connect with them. I find myself in the house of the village chief, surrounded by women and children, busy on my hair. Children are playing and whispering. The smell of wood fire fills the room; the sun is showing up via slanting rays passing through the carved wooden window.

Then, I officially meet the son of the village chief, the chief himself being caught by inter-villages meetings. He welcomes me in the community. I give him the coffee and sugar I have brought for them, as well as two T-shirts, for the chief and for the Landry’s brother, who is the one offering me the evening meal and the bed.

I also meet older people while visiting the village. A woman kindly invites me into her house. I acknowledge and accept willingly (never say no to another opportunity to learn more!). Unfortunately my eyes start to cry a few minutes later because of the excess of smoke inside the house; in spite of my efforts, I have to leave after a few minutes later.

The night falls quickly. It is time to go to sleep.

In my bedroom I discover two sumptuous traditional chairs as well as a splendid chest, all carved.  I wash myself with wipes, then slip into my sleeping bag. Staring at the ceiling and much beyond, I try to appreciate the moment and to remember the present: in a wooden house in a village in the heart of Madagascar, 6 hours of taxi-brousse & walk away from the first city…

The day after, the alarm clock of my phone wakes me up at 5.30. At 5.50 I am up, my legs like a spring, ready to start the walk back to Ambositra and climbing up the mountain. We agreed on leaving at 6 am, in order for me to be able to catch another taxi-brousse to Fianarantsoa the same day.

Error again: mora mora! Time is a different concept in Africa. Talking, drinking tea and eating rice is again on the agenda…

We leave at 7.30.

I understand the need to stay a bit with our host. Nonetheless, I am feeling a bit worried. First because I have a connection to make in Ambositra (for security reasons transports have to be planned during the day; leaving late means either missing the last taxi-brousse or arriving at night), and second the weather changed and is bad again. At 6 am the sky was wall to wall blue, the fog of the previous day totally erased and I was so energized! At 7.30, blue has turned to grey and the scenery is behind the clouds again 😦

On the way back, the guide walks far behind me. I pause, several times, to wait for him. At a moment, as he is not showing up, I return to meet him. He was crouching on the side of the path. Perplexed, I am wondering what can be happening. In fact, he has diarrhea… That takes the biscuit! My stomach is perfectly fine and his, the local one, has reluctant to the local food!

In spite of this misfortune, we finally manage to arrive in time to Ambositra (photo taken between Antoetra and Ambositra).

I retrieve my big backpack at the hotel and go back to the bus station in a record time. My plan is to reach Fianarantsoa in the evening in order to catch the train of the day after. As the train is not a daily regular one, I prefer not to miss that one!

Finally, in the afternoon of the same day, the sun and its warmth are back, my credit card also (for a short moment I couldn’t find it, and it is an importance piece of plastic because the whole trip depends on it!). In the taxi-brousse, with Malagasy music and sweets to enjoy, as well as, through the window, caress of the wind and absolutely gorgeous sceneries all around, I am so happy!

I am very tight on a half-seat, my body is not comfortable, but I don’t care. My mind is. Thanks to this guy I randomly met in the street, I have just lived an amazing authentic experience. Now that I am on the road again, I am feeling light and trustful, totally ready for the surprises of the next step.