Wash, Wipe, Scrub and Clean

22.01.2017 - 09.02.2017

Our arrival on the ship started with drama. Someone’d already told me about it on the jetty whilst we were waiting for the dinghy, so half the group knew what they weren’t supposed to. When it was announced that the project leader & economics teacher was being sent home, everyone was mad. It had been brought to him on the last morning of holiday with his wife, and he claimed not to have known things weren’t going well. The crew wouldn’t say more, and what was said made it sound like it was all about money in the end. It was for various reasons, as we found out later, but at that moment it was a big shock. The new guy was already on his way, and wasn’t school going perfectly well, better than other years? – that was one of the few given reasons. He left straight after the announcement, and tears flowed. He’d gained our trust, everyone liked him and he often took our side. What would the newcomer be like? It took the first one three months to gain our trust, would we only trust last year’s teacher back in Holland? The tears were mixed with rage. We were allowed to call our parents the next day, to talk about it. They had known before we did.

In the days after the incident more clarity came, and we started to understand. On the 23rd good news came: Sam and Jet were engaged! He had proposed to her when we were gone, and due to troubles of finding a ring, the Dominican “wife catcher” had served as one. That’s about as original as it gets.

For me and four others, bad news came again. Sam asked me to send them to the wheelhouse. At first I didn’t see the connection, then it came to me: we were the ones that’d gone out in Panama City. Uh-oh. Once in the wheelhouse Sam said he knew everything, and how do you know what’s bluff and what not? So we just told the whole story; honesty is the best way to go. We had to write it down, and sign it, whilst calling our parents one by one. We were pretty afraid about getting sent home. My biggest question was: how did he know? We had been very careful that the teachers didn’t see, and they told me afterwards that they hadn’t. That meant that there were two options: there was a snitch, or someone had told their parents and they had flipped and told the office. Of course it stays our own responsibility, but, well. You know, it’s always nice when no one has to find out.

Our days in front of Bocas were mostly used for school, and a last afternoon of free time. On Thursday the 26th we did “Over the Line”, a thing in which a series of questions were asked about how you felt in the group, if you were happy at home and if your parents were divorced. We did it on an idyllic little island next to Bocas, with the border between waves and shore as the line. If the answer was “yes”, you stepped into the water. Everyone found out some surprising things about each other that day, I believe. When we were done, one of my best friends, Emilia, had organized a thing in which we could talk to the teachers, crew and others students for two minutes each. You told each other a negative thing about him- or herself, then something positive. Some conversations I had were really good, and I heard a few unexpected things. In the meantime I had gotten a fever, which wasn’t exactly pleasant. Back aboard, I spent a lot of time writing sixteen postcards, before going to bed way to late. The next day I went to Jet to measure my temperature, and yup, I was allowed to stay in bed. It took a long time for me to recover completely, as I got out of bed as soon as I felt a little bit better, which wasn’t very smart. The result was about a week of being tired with headaches, and a wheelhouse conversation: “Either you’re sick, or you toughen the …. up, princess.”

After a week or so, we left Panama. The customs lady that came to stamp our passports wore a helmet and fluorescent vest, white polo in white trousers. Interesting.

My first watches were unpleasant, due to the not-sick-yet-not-completely-better thing. There were some problems with my SaS-report, and combined with me talking back during Spanish that meant another “stuurhutje” – wheelhouse conversation. Both of the stuurhutjes actually expressed some concern towards how I was doing, not just unhappiness towards how I was behaving.

Our second ship takeover gradually got closer, and the "what-to-apply-for?" stress got going. I wrote my letter, applying for the function of mate. I didn’t get an interview, and on the 4th of February we were called to the bridge.

“The good news first,” Sam said. “Our little group of alcoholics will be doing the whole Cuba-cleaning for all of us.”

Now, there was a big cleaning every Sunday, or when we arrived at a place. Nobody exactly looked forward to it, but it was doable, and we’d learnt how to do it fast. Then there was the Cuba-cleaning, dreaded through all of SaS. Every tiny corner of the ship had to be immaculate, and the Regina has many corners. Last year they took 24 hours. We were five, with more or less three days, and watch. Wait, the fifth was sick, so four. You can imagine there were some oh’s and ah’s, from both sides. Sadistic Sam seemed way to happy as he told us.

Next came the functions. Sadly I hadn’t been chosen, and I later heard what I had expected: they didn’t believe I deserved it because of the way I’d been behaving. Well, there’re still two takeovers to go.

I had 9-1, which kind of automatically gave me the toilets. I cleaned them daily, once twice on the same day. Not just the usual, but deep-cleaning. As in using a screwdriver to get all the drains out, cleaning them, scrubbing the shower floor until the brown became white again, and using aggressive products to remove rust. I spent hours on those toilets, alongside cleaning the stores in the bow, the cabins, and more. Giulia was amazing, and offered to clean the wheelhouse completely – the crew says we live like pigs, but the wheelhouse… People helped here and there, some more than others. On the last day almost everyone helped, mostly with the deck and salon. And oh, the kitchen. I was cleaning the stern cabins and then vacuuming all the other ones for a second time (we’d done them the day before, and well, we’re way worse than pigs), and of course the toilets, but man, they were busy for hours. I helped at the end, and when everything had been checked, the bad parts redone, only one thing was left: the range hood’s roster. Two of them, completely greasy on the inside, and you couldn’t open them. The best technique was to use a knife to scrape the layer of grease away through the slits. I took over from the others, as they were exhausted, and my body simply goes to the “keep going until it’s done without feeling tired-mode”. So I scraped, together with Amelia and Kika, whilst Carolina was doing something else. We were done around 04.30, I believe, after which I still had to clean up all my stuff and tidy the cabin. I fell asleep at 06.10, only to be woken up at 07.15; we had arrived, and customs were coming. Well, hello there Cuba.