When on Leave

Have you ever wandered what a seaman does whilst on leave? What he does during that period, when he has finished his tour of duty and has six or so weeks of pure freedom stretching ahead of him? Ha, even today I still do not know the answer to that. One good answer could be "to spend all the money that he has gainfully earned during the last voyage in as quick a time as possible and with nothing to show for it afterwards". Seemingly something that I have often achieved, the reason for returning to sea often resulting from a severe lack of cash.

I have previously given you great insight into everything that I have done whilst on a ship, or all that I am willing to impart! I now progress to the more interesting details giving you an in-depth look into a modern seafarers life on shore. What a seafarer may do from the moment he leaves his vessel until the time comes for him to catch that plane and rejoin another vessel. How he acts during his holiday, his feelings and how others perceive him. With myself as reference for the most part, of course!

Typically, a seaman works for three months and depending on which company and what type of business that company is involved in, depends upon how much leave an officer will get. But typically an Officer will work for three months and get two months or six weeks of vacation. A long time eh? A long time to those landlubbers who get two weeks holiday a year, a long time to those who dont know that seafarers deserve their long break, that being at sea is not one long cruise, it is a stressful time filled with hard work and loneliness.

Mostly the first few days of any Officers leave are spent winding down and trying to flush out all Engineering and ship matters from the brain, meeting old friends and family and basically attempting to settle back into a home lifestyle. The last few days will be spent gearing up to go back on the ship, mentally preparing yourself for another three or so months of solid work and play, packing the bag once again and saying those heartbreaking farewells.

For the rest of the time, those with family or a wife tend to have a set patterns to follow, that of settling into an old lifestyle. This can be extremely difficult as the wife and children (if there are any) build up a completely separate life, whilst you are away. They do things that you are not a part of, they lead a life where you are not involved and they have to do this simply because you are not there to involve yourself. A routine is built up, a routine that excludes you and then suddenly you return and expect to be part of it all as if you had never been away. Disrupting a settled and comfortable daily existence is what you are doing and it takes a very strong and open-minded couple to cope with the unorganized disruption that is so much part of their lives. Many can not cope and so the divorce rate of seaman is high, as either the wife cannot accept the constant disappearance and reappearance of her husband or the husband falls in love with some female on his travels. The famous expression goes "absence makes the heart grow fonder", but I think in a seamans case the "absence" makes the heart wander! The wifes heart as well as the seafarers

Those Seaman happily married tend to re-settle down with their family and go on a holiday abroad together or just stay at home and catch up on the house painting or do some mundane task that requires attention. This picture of domestic bliss tends to shock me and is fully enforced by this one Second Engineers description of a family holiday that they recently had in Malta.

Not an amazing story in itself but, well, can anything be more boring or senseless than to book a holiday at great expense and then spend it in your own backyard?

I myself never came close to even going abroad with another. Either persons willing could not get the time off or financial restrictions got in the way. And I, being a strange character, do not like to be tied down to a fixed routine based holiday, and so am not suited to tour groups or packages that others prefer. Even persons that I meet abroad who wish to talk about the mundane do not appeal to me. But this is sidetracking..........

........I tried numerous times to settle down as a boyfriend but certain things always happened in a very short space of time. Namely that the said girl would have an affair whilst I was away or that I received an ultimatum. Namely:

Ouch, what a thing to say! It is not as if I could just gain a shore job with the snap of the fingers. Being at sea was my career and so sadly, on two occasions when faced with this threat I had to say goodbye. Thus basically over the years I have slowly changed from young free and single, to older, free and single. Happens to many seaman believe me!

Many tears have been spotted at sea as a result of seafarers receiving Dear John letters. Those letters that say things like "..I have met someone else...", or "...no longer working and so I think ..we should go our own ways",..." and so on. I have actually received one of these whilst at sea but I did get informed in a more novel way, via a mobile phone. Abrupt and to the point "not working so bye, bye". Different but with the same end result.

First of all it is extremely difficult to meet a girl and secondly to maintain a relationship if you do, whilst working at sea. Often the girl does not understand the job that you do, nor appreciate what life is like and that it can be quite tough. When on leave you may meet a nice girl but half way through your courting process you are required to up and off to the next vessel. The period of leave given is never enough for this and I cannot blame any girl for saying "wait four months before we continue, you must be joking"! Funnily enough I have often been told that nurses make the best partners for seaman, due to the jobs being similar in nature. Both parties suffer a great deal of stress, both are in a career of rebuilding or fixing (albeit one for humans, the other for machines), and both are problem solvers, but basically overwork and inherent stress can form the required understanding and bond necessary for a fruitful relationship. I never met a nurse or rather one that I fell for so that is that end of that conversational debut.

It is difficult to form a long lasting relationship at sea, but endless seaman do fall in love whilst on their travels. Many seamen having suffered a divorce find love abroad. Or as a result of finding love abroad they get divorced. Or their wives leave them whilst they are abroad. This though has nothing to do with me as fortunately I have not had to suffer that aspect of life. I have had my fare share of failed relationships and dont want anymore, but so far I have not been married, and thus not suffered a divorce and I have no children in varying parts of the world. I have been close to one or the other but never actually got there. I suppose most people think that seaman have a wife in every port, sounds nice, but not true as far as I am concerned.

So how did I spend my leaves? Initially I spent them at home with my family, trying to maintain a tenuous contact with old friends. As I earned more money I took it upon myself to travel, no longer content to sit at home and watch television or have strained conversations with old school mates. At fist my travelling tended to be within the UK, visiting my sister down South or heading off on my own for a week or two to anywhere and everywhere. One of these lone expeditions took me down to Cambridge (my place of birth) and from some crazy notion I ended up buying a Dawes Horizon racing bike. Wow, adventurous for me! At the time I had this weird fetish for wearing brimmed hats and thus dressed, I decided to take a trip to London on this new bike. Not, I may say by the most suitable route of the A-roads, but by the shortest and smoothest route available that of the motorway. Illegal to say the least but the smoothest and a route that would allow me to transit that distance within an easy day. I set off at 6am peddling that bike along the hard shoulder as if the demons were after me, fast furious and efficiently putting those miles behind me. Chased all the way by endless tooting of car horns, all trying to signal to me the fact that I should not be there. Well, eventually one type of toot brought me to a standstill: that of a Police Range Rover, a toot that I could no longer ignore. Pulling over the policeman got out and questioned me as to my destination. The conversation went like this:

"Where are you going son"? he said snootily from a great height.

"To London" I replied, wanting to ask him how he did not know where the motorway went but refrained..

"Do you know that you are not allowed to cycle on a motorway"? he next said condescendingly.

I answered with suitable ignorance, "no sir I did not know that".

"are you a foreigner"? he asked suspiciously, I suppose with a view that foreigners are stupid thus exempt from knowing the British Road rules.

I could have answered that I was German or American or something, placing a slight slant on my accent but I just came out with the basic truth. That of

He looked at me kind of strange way and decided that I was a half-wit and not worth the bother of booking me. He showed me how to get onto the A-road with a stern warning never to appear on a motorway again probably wandering if all Scots people are so ignorant of the Road Rules whilst scratching his brain to remember if Scotland has any motorways.

Travelling around the UK alone and with no plan allows you to see what you want and when you want. That trip which included the bicycle story, also brought me to Peterborough and the Country fares (still wearing that trilby and sweating profusely), to the Nottinghill Carnival in London, to the Glastonbury Music Festival, and to various other sights and sounds of Britain.

Just a note on that Trilby hat, I lost it when cycling one time as it blew off the back of the bike. Somehow I felt undressed without it and had to buy another one soonest. Funny what people wear isnt it? But dont laugh at the hat, how about the scarf that I wore for a couple of years in winter and in summer. And not just around the neck, it was always rapped around under the shirt that I was wearing, making me look as if I had a permanent cast on my neck daft. I remember at school once when I was maybe 13 or 14 years old. I had this wish to buy a pair of cowboy boots for ages and then I saw this pair on sale. Very cheap as the colors where a wee bit different. I am an extremely skinny bloke and currently had a penchant for tight jeans, so you can probably invoke an image of me wearing these things. A bean pole with legs like sticks, stuck into these massive boots of different colors and three inches higher than normal. Ha, I did a paper round at the time and had to climb many flights of stairs in the process. I dont think there were many happy people that morning as I clumped my way up and crashed my way back down. For some reason I chopped the heels off those boots thinking that it might improve their looks just made me walk like I had taken too much to drink and my top half wanted to remain behind.

Anyway I am sidetracking. Travelling around the UK soon wore thin and I chose to broaden my horizons by taking planes instead of trains. One of the first foreign expeditions that I undertook was to Italy. I had since the age of eleven kept up a written dialogue with a Italian girl in Milan and it was during this leave that I decided to go and visit her. We had never met before having gained contact as pen-friends, so this was to be the first time. I planned the trip alongside a visit to various Italian towns and to spend a couple of days in Milan with her. It all went very well. I stayed as planned for three days, being shown around town and visiting her parents, eating Italian ice cream and enjoying life abroad on holiday as it should be. After the three days, I set off on my own to tour Florence, Venice, Rome, etc. After an exhausting, but enjoyable, ten days I returned to Milan for another four days before finally returning home to Edinburgh. Ha, it was on the last day just as we where saying goodbye that everything fell apart. Well, I did not realize until a week later that anything had gone wrong, leaving with the impression that everybody had enjoyed my stay as much as I had. This is how I, in retrospect, surmised that things went badly wrong: I was placing my bag into the back of a taxi and she was standing by watching. I closed the boot and then took her hand to shake it. For some reason the shaking of hands did not feel enough so I leant forward and gave her a quick kiss on the lips before climbing into the taxi. Ha, silly me! I received a letter from her the following week telling me "not to write again and that one-day she would explain".

I never really did understand what it was all about. I did try to regain contact a year or so later but no response. In some way my kiss must have attacked her sense of well being or her belief or something. Anyway, I have never heard hide nor hair of her since and I suppose my address has long since changed so she could not contact me anyway. I had not really given that kiss any more thought, but in retrospect I do recall her shocked expression at the time. Oh well, I hope that she is okay and has recovered from my sweet lips......Hehehe.

So that was one leave basically covered. I got to know Italy the hard way by travelling around and sleeping in the cheapest bed and breakfasts one could find, travelling cattle class and walking where possible.

Except for one day! Once from Milan to Rome I traveled by the fast train or the "Rapido" as it is called a train with no stop in-between. I sat in first class (a big apology went to my poor Bank Manager), for reasons of having had enough of standing, sitting on uncomfortable seats and walking endlessly in wrong directions, thus gaining massive blisters. Time for a bit of comfort and so I booked first class and sat opposite this older gentleman who undertook to be my tourist guide throughout the journey. He explained all about the difference between the North and South Italians in their habit of arm waving and shouting and pointed endless landmarks out as we zoomed along. Thanks Mr. Italian Old man! I arrived in Rome tired and late and decided that a nice warm bed and bath was in order and so continuing in my expensive mode, I removed that AMEX card from my sock and proceeded directly to the Hotel Michelangelo. This is without doubt the most expensive hotel I had ever stayed in and may still be the most expensive ever, and judging by the looks of the reception staff, that I should not be staying in ever. Well, I got a room (after much checking and rechecking of my Amex card and passport) and dived into a lovely hot bath, desperately trying to get value for money by using all of the freebies. Shampoo, conditioner, soap, shaving kit, hair mask (which I did not need) and bubble bath which never bubbled. Then filling my bag with the rest, the shoeshine kit, the pens and pencils and the ugly postcards of the hotel that they leave for you. I then spent the next three hours (despite being tired) opening and shutting curtains, locking and unlocking the door, switching on/off the air con/heater and changing the lighting situation of the room via one remote control. Great fun, except when twice I called room service by pressing the wrong button and they got a bit upset. And wow, where those mini-bar drinks expensive criminal in fact.

Maybe staying in that hotel was the start of my particular liking for expensive places. I could never and still cannot sleep in any old bed and breakfast joint and if I do I never really enjoy it or sleep well. I will even go into debt now, when faced with a choice of a B&B and a smarter hotel right next door. Why that is I do not know, but then why not? I spend most of my life on a ship being thrown up and down all day and all night, whilst sleeping in an extremely small and often lumpy bed. So the prospect of a warm bath, a double bed and room service at the fingertips and a choice of refreshments is too appealing to ignore.

Most of the time though when on leave I do like to spend money, maybe due to having spent nothing whilst working for those three or so months. And not spending it on sensible things either. For example, a couple of years ago it suddenly came to my attention that I was travelling around with three different mobile phones. Oh I had an excuse for the possession of each.

A cheap phone used for daily use incase it gets stolen

A more expensive one to make myself feel more up-market

One that could be used in America (not that I went there often)

So, as you can see one phone would have sufficed but I felt it necessary to advance on that. Get the latest model, have the nicest looking one yet all doing the same things.

Other superfluous items often ended up in my possession. The endless purchase of videos (my poor sister having the task of having to look after them all) and books (that just get left in hotel rooms upon completion). I went through a stage of buying endless leather jackets and then discarding them and another buying spree regarding footwear that ended up being donated to Oxfam. Nowadays I have progressed to laptops and wow, is that large drain on the bank account! Get the laptop, a printer then extend to connecting it to the mobile, zip machines, blasters, scanners and then and then and then, it just goes on and on. Whatever you do, whatever you buy, you can never quite keep up with all the new stuff appearing and are thus always one step behind. Then you do something really silly like smashing the screen, a result of a similar thing to "road rage" called "computer rage", and "in-thing" these days I hear. Smashing the screen means that you are forced to make a decision: Buy a new computer or get a new screen. No choice really but to buy a new computer of course!

Going back to earlier days and leaves and I had another holiday abroad, this time in America. I based this month long trip on a visit to a friend in Tucson, Arizona, who I had met many years earlier whilst on a plane to Egypt. She showed me her photographs and I babbled away about nothing. Me to join a ship and her on holiday. We kept up contact via mail for a long time and I had visited once before, but now was the time to revisit her, and make a grand tour of the states at the same time. Initially I flew to LA and then worked my way (via plane and taxi) across the states with a stopover to see my friend in Tucson, Arizona.

It was a good time but nothing spectacular happened and I cut the American leg of the journey short to arrive in the Bahamas earlier than planned. Following on from my habit of staying at expensive places I chose this expensive club on an outer Island. And my, what a snotty-bunch of people were staying there! For two weeks I just kept to myself, sunbathing, swimming and tying to get to grips with a scuba bottle and flippers. There was this semi-famous model in residence and doing a shoot, from Ella Magazine or something and what a snooty cow she was. No, that holiday I did not really enjoy and I have no wish to return to any of those places - except for Las Vegas. I got to see some nice places like Las Vegas and Miami, walked on the famous names in Hollywood and saw the Grand Canyon, death-valley and bolder dam but, well maybe I was just not in the mood for it all. I left low in pocket and spirit whilst looking forward to visiting an engine room once again.

Another holiday that I took up was to go to Fiji. This was soon after my adventure in Tuvalu and I think I felt a bit lost having returned to the normality of the sea. I like Fiji with its calm weather and friendly faces, for me an ideal holiday spot not unspoiled by mass tourism. I spent most of the time just walking around in Nadi or Suva, lying on the beach and reading books. Perfect really. I had a few friends there, expatriate lawyers and ex-colleagues from Tuvalu so I made a couple of nights of it. But again there was not enough action for me and a return would not now be entertained. On the day that I was due to leave I went to say goodbye to this girl that I knew from the local travel agency. She had this horrible looking mixture of a dog, sort of half sausage and half boxer with other bits thrown in. It did not like me at all and kept on trying to jump up to either bite my nose off or to chew on an ear or two. Eventually, having enough of this I pushed him/her violently away only to receive his tooth right through the palm of my hand. Ouch and more. I managed to get a tetanus shot, a few stitches (which unfortunately broke at immigration and I had to explain the blood that had dripped onto my passport) and away I went vowing never to revisit that place again. I do like Fiji allot and I spent many a relaxed moment just whiling away the days doing absolutely nothing. Which is really the whole point of taking a holiday anyway.

Another dog that caused consternation on my part was in Koahsiung, Taiwan. I had just left the hotel and was on my way to investigate the town when this little mutt just came and bit me on the leg. Luckily, it did not pierce the skin but he in return received a massive kick to the head. I did not hang around to see it if was okay and extremely uninterested to see the reaction of the locals to a foreigner kicking one of their dogs. Dogs can be a nuisance in many Asian countries and although I am not afraid of them I am extremely wary of them especially if they get into the pack mood. It is best to simply walk quickly and positively in a straight line past them and not catch their eyes. Doing this, they just seem to bark rather than come towards you baring their teeth.

Concerned parties have often told me that I return from a ship looking thin and emaciated. I dont feel it but a holiday does become a time for eating well and in plentiful quantities. Ships do provide a basic diet but the stranger the ship the weirder the food. Like working on that ferry with monkey brains, a frequent appearance on the table. One can not help but get thin, can they, when faced with that sort of delight? So, on leave I love to attend restaurants of high order and glutton furiously on everything and anything and in whatever style they dabble-in. But none of this beats returning home to mothers cooking. Oooh, the lovely smells and the mouth watering taste of it all. I laugh at myself nowadays recalling a certain bread instance when at primary school. My mother makes this most wonderful bread and nowadays I cant wait to get the butter on and wolf it down. But at school it was a source of embarrassment for me. All the other children had these neat white bread slices with Spam or something inside (that I regard today as disgusting food), yet here I was with these massive doorsteps of brown bread filled with peanut butter or something. In an attempt to be the same as my school mates and not to be teased, I used to dispose of the packet in the nearest waste basket before anybody could see. I did this until my sister caught me and told mum......och. Yeah, holidays do tend to become a time of nourishment, sort of recovering from the last trip and stocking up for the next.

No disrespect to the food on ships though. Oft we have had amazing chefs and layouts but whatever, it may not all be what we require or want and there is often a limited choice of nibbles for extra padding. I never understand why ships are filled with these Danish Butter Cookies and nothing else in the form of a light snack. I hate Danish Butter Cookies with a passion after fifteen years of having no other choice.

By summing up what I have so far written on "holidays" it would seem that all I do is take expensive trips everywhere, eat too much food and socialize extensively. And this is basically true. It is extremely hard for a traveler to undertake a routine of any sorts. For example if I wanted to learn a language I have to finds a course that would fit into my leave. This is the start of the problem. Maybe having to start in the middle of the course, you do two weeks then disrupt it to go on holiday, do another two weeks desperately trying to catch up before heading back to your ship. It can be difficult. And not just in that area. Sports or becoming fit is one of my major problems. I want to do exercise but find it very difficult to fit into any routine. And basically it never happens. By the time I manage to push myself into doing some exercise, I find it is not worth it as I am due to leave soon to join another vessel.

This problem is well recognized with many discussions occurring within international bodies over a seamans health. As no routine exists in our life neither do regular check ups and dental appointments. I attend my optician when I need new glasses. I go to the dentist reluctantly when my toothache becomes too much to bear. Yet this is not how we are taught. But the lifestyle does not go well with making plans and so allot of what is routine for most people becomes ignored by us.

This though is all irrelevant to what do I do when on holiday. It is more what I do not do when on holiday. So let me get back on track.....basically the one thing that I require to do is to empty my head of all matters regarding the last voyage and prepare it for the next. Relax and unwind without stress or sleepless nights.

Its funny though how one remains on a ship in a devoid state. You spend months onboard this floating steel can often with minimal contact to the outside world. Quickly you learn to communicate with fellow officers in stilted and often unintelligible (to the uninitiated) way. Clipped sentences and signals become the norm and therefore to communicate with the outside becomes a task. Somehow you have to relearn normal methods of communication when you arrive back on dry land. Otherwise, nobody understands what you are attempting to say. I have recently spent periods on vessels where I am the only Westerner on board. So for four months I have spoken using sign language and simplified English for communicational purposes often spending days without talking at all. Upon returning to civilization bringing forth the normal spoken word can be quite a task one that receives strange glances from those unaware of the situation.

Aside from the language problem vessels crews generally become isolated from the everyday aggressive behavior from outside and therefore are unsure how to deal with it. I had an occurrence recently to which I think I handled well yet left me feeling a bit sick. I was standing in a queue at my bank before realizing that it was not moving forwards at any great rate. I decided to change to another one and on doing so this lady jumped in front, giving me this smart "ha, Im so great and smart", sort of smile. Anyway, after a short time it was her turn to be attended to, but just as she reached the tellers desk this girl jumped in front of her. Now this girl had been waiting as long as I had and I therefore mentioned this to the old lady who was complaining volubly about the horrible youngsters of today. I simply explained to her that "the girl had been waiting for over half an hour and anyway what was the rush"?

Ach silly me. As a result of this unwanted advice I received an endless tirade of abuse (somewhat vile in its nature) whilst I just stood their and smile condescendingly down at her. This obviously making the situation worse. Anyway, it came time for her to attend the teller once again and I tapped her on the shoulder to point this out. And wow, did I receive a black look before she finally left to do her business at the counter. Well, I soon was being attended to when I heard this person behind me say "watch out" and upon turning around there was this old lady pointing her finger in my face. She said, "and dont you touch me again, I dont know where your fingers have been". Oh my!!!!

The story just goes to show how protected we are in the sense that a normal person would never have said anything or if they had the result would have been forgotten within seconds. Yet here I am six months later still recoiling from those spiteful words.

Cocooned and protected, never having to go shopping for food, often having your washing done for you, the food on silver service and the problems of existence and survival never rearing its ugly head.

I recently had occasion to look at myself very carefully for reasons of past actions. I had left a ship in Singapore and had absolutely nothing to do, not wanting to go back home and spend six weeks in Edinburgh and not wanting to travel as I had just suffered rather a disastrous and stressful trip. Anyway, I was sitting in this bar with a colleague when he introduced me to this Philippine girl he knew. It ended up that I got together with this girl, went to the Philippines for a holiday and we became an item. It was during my second leave that I suddenly woke up to myself and questioned my actions. There I was residing in this smoky and traffic congested city, having rented a house and set up shop so to speak. But one morning, after falling asleep quite contentedly, I woke up and this is what I saw: I was living in a place where good food was hard to come by and in a country riddled by deceit and with a president currently being arraigned for mass corruption. A country under going a political upheaval and political crisis which eventually led to a peoples takeover of power. I woke up to her family regarding me as their future income, I having had the same conversation with her father every time I met him.

And then I would have a money-orientated conversation with the brother in-law.

And I would reply "Im not interested in taxis but you go ahead".

The woman of the family would always appear and just walk around the house discussing the price of the items that we had purchased. I told my girl that money was not to be discussed in this house, but that lasted all of five minutes and then back they were to saying, "wow", a set of plates how much did they cost"?

I woke up one day to realize that I was residing right in the heart of the Abu Sayaf area. The one that is in the newspapers with all the kidnappings of foreigners and such. What was I doing there? Unable to go out of the town for fear of being kidnapped, frightened to go out alone for the same reason. Her father said the following to me one day "dont worry you will be protected as I have the right connections". Whether that was good or bad I do not know, but I am sure that if I upset him it would have led to the bad side.

My girlfriend and I stayed at a local resort for one weekend, noticing upon arrival that we were the only residents in the whole place. The following weekend an air Philippines plane missed the main runway and upon trying to get back on course crashed into the resorts restaurant. A few weeks later the Abu Sayaf guerillas raided the place and took a number of hostages from it. Did that shock me or what? Lucky escape after lucky escape! A week out and I would have been residing in the jungle courtesy of a band of cutthroats.

Yes, I woke up one day and said to myself "what am I doing here"? The answer being that I had not a clue and after explaining this to my girl I just upped and ran. Threw what I needed into a bag and ran for my life. For the girl it was tough but it was far better that I left then than suffer later for the both of us.

What I am trying to say with this story is this. That seafarers suffer (especially offshore) isolation and hardship whilst on a ship. They themselves may not notice it but subsequent actions do go towards proving it. Myself being the typical example. I had gotten myself involved in a no win situation, purely from desperation for a normal life-style. Fed up of travelling day in day out, living out of a bag, often not unpacking it even when settled on the ship. So out of that situation comes this desperation to have security, somewhere to call home. And I, instead of renting a house in Edinburgh or even buying one, opted to set up in the Philippines with the first girl that came along.

The above occasion was not the only time that I fell in love. It has happened to me a number of times. The one above, another that I recounted in the Spanish ferry Chapter and here is another. This one had a little twist to it, which came back with a vengeance. I had left a gas tanker in Singapore, met this lass from Singapore. Well, being footloose and fancy free I opted to return to Singapore as a tourist and spend the next six weeks in her company. Och, we had a great time, albeit an expensive one and I got to know Singapore extremely well, met loads of people some who are still friends and generally time flew by. Well, it came time for me to return to normality, fly back home quickly before joining my next ship. It was the day that I was due to fly that everything fell apart. My girl started to act very strangely in the hotel room but I in my departure mood did not clearly register this. Eventually she just ran to the door, shouted bye, bye and that was that, leaving me in a rather a shocked state. I had expected tears galore, emotion running riot and all that, but all I got was a premature bye and out the door she went. Well, I finished packing, got a taxi and departed to the airport, sad but not thinking too straight. The taxi driver helped me to solve the problem through the simple process of wanting to be paid and there in my wallet was nothing. The poor girl had emptied it completely to the tune of 500 sing dollars or about 200pounds. Not a great deal in itself and I managed to pay the driver by visa, it was just the principle behind it all. Nay, not the principle, I felt utterly betrayed. She was basically out for what she could get and as I had made no vows or promised a life long commitment then she took what she could an up and away she went. Anyway, it came back to her a few years later, maybe five or six years later. I was in Singapore and a recent friend of mine arranged to meet me in an Irish Pub in town, along with his new Singapore girl friend. Whoops, I was sitting in the bar and in walks my friend with a girl beside him. Well she went mad, started to moan then ran outside hysterically. My friend looked at me and at my smile, then went out to see what was happening. Upon his return he told me that she was outside with her head in her hands and pacing up and down, whilst saying through her tears "oh, why me". Oh why me indeed, and when my friend heard the news he made the decision never to see the girl again..........och, poor girl I just feel rather sorry for her thats all.

People often asked me why I dont just take a package holiday or join a tour in that way meeting people and taking away the loneliness of travelling alone. First of all I tell them that I am never alone or rather never feel lonely, only to be greeted with disbelief. Secondly, are they serious about package holidays? Tours? Excuse me, but I cannot imagine anything worse for me (and any seafarer for that matter) than setting off with his bucket and spade to some tourist jungle. Tours means restriction and that is the last thing we need to encounter. My idea of a holiday is to get away from everything, remove the claustrophobia that is associated with a shipboard life. Be free to roam and to do whatever I choose, devoid of a set lifestyle and pattern that has to be followed. But it is not just the restrictions that I associate with package tours. It is often the destinations that go with it. I had occasion to leave a vessel in Tenerife and was forever put off the place by that. Its pure design is to cater for the tourist leaving nothing local about it. Yes, it has lively beaches warm weather and all but that is not what I require. I need adventure, the visiting of strange and unknown places and with the local flavor overriding everything.

The same goes with a holiday resort I ended up staying at by accident in the Bahamas. So controlled, rows upon rows of semi-naked tourists lying in front of the pool and partaking in the forced fun that is provided as part of the package. I attempted on one occasion to take my book and sit on the beach but was frequently interrupted by annoying people. Kids and their football, two girl thinking I might be good company (sorry), the organizer reminding me that the water quiz would start in ten minutes and another to say that I had missed the bus. What goddam bus would that be? No it is not my idea for fun and therefore the reason why I do not do that sort of thing.

You may ask how someone ends up staying accidentally at a holiday resort but that was a mistake that I lived to regret. For some reason I had booked that holiday through an UK travel agency, rather than just booking the flights and then choosing a hotel on arrival. I had asked the travel lady to book me somewhere quiet with a swimming pool or close to a beach. Well, she got everything right except the quiet bit. This place boasted three swimming pools with water slides to boot and a beach covered with people all doing their water sports bit and zooming around like flies. When I eat food I like to seat slowly with a nice view to look at. This place had about ten restaurants all brimming over with tourists eager to eat as much as possible and as quickly as possible and all wearing bathing suits. Just not my scene. Never did use that travel agency again, or any for that matter for hotel bookings. Tickets only that is the way forward from now on.

I think I must make a quick summary about what a seaman does during his leave or rather what I do during my leave. In terms of sequential events here is what a typical leave might be like:

Check the bank balance

Say hello to family

Go out and see if town is unchanged: Any new buildings or shops sprung up or others disappeared sort of thing.

Settle all debts and such that have occurred during the last trip

Walk around town again

Get completely and utterly bored

Have a think about where would be a nice place to travel to just out of interest of course.

Go to travel agents and book ticket, without thought to cost.

Have a great holiday and go home

Check bank balance: only to find no cash left and visa bill shocking in its high content

Phone up company and state that you require to re-join ship soonest.

Of course everything is different now as I am happily settled and married, so I shall say that the above was typical of when I single OKAY? Being maried is way way different and a completely different story!