Reflections from a cruise…

I’m writing this as I sit on my cabin balcony gazing out at the open ocean. Rosemary and I are in the middle of 25 days of unaccustomed ease and luxury as we celebrate her retirement some 20 months ago. We have cruised around Iceland and Norway and will soon be exploring Amsterdam and Belgium before docking in Southhampton when a second cruise will take us all the way around the United Kingdom. It’s been glorious. I can’t remember the last time our most pressing decision was which of the dozen plus dining options we will make use of tonight, or how many of the desserts we’ll attempt to consume. It’s as well that our tastes in alcohol are modest, for our deal includes as much as we care for, whenever we care for it – and the range on offer is vast.  We’ve settled on a glass of wine with the evening meal – a significantly more conservative decision than some, but this is a live and let live environment, so each to their own. Yes, it is glorious – though definitely in the “for special occassions” category. Much as I am loving this, even if my budget allowed for it (it doesn’t!) it’s a fairytale world. It’s not like real life, not like real life at all.

Or is it? 

I engaged in a bit of people watching over breakfast. While there are a fair few passengers younger than Rosemary and I, we fit the broad demographic. Actually, during the stand up comedy routine last night the comedian asked people to raise their hands for how long they had been married and it turns out the 40-50 year category was the largest – and that’s us. And the largest category of passengers are from wealthy contries – far and away the most from the USA and Canada, but also plenty from the UK, various parts of Europe, Australia New Zealand. Not so many from the majority world – well, not until you look at the crew. Then it changes dramatically – heaps from Bali, India, the Philippines, Africa, Mexico, and various countires in South America.

That snap shot says it all. People from the poorest nations serving the tables of those from the wealthiest, making their beds, helping them decide which dessert is the yummiest, and ensuring that their bathrooms are always sparkling. 

Lest you think this is a rant against the rich, it isn’t really (after all, I am one of the passengers). But here’s the thing. I kid you not, it seems to me that the crew are happier than the passengers. At breakfast, three of the waiters were singing a song they had composed about the wonder of coffee. They were in heaps of laughter as they cheerfully belted out each line. Some passengers applauded them lightly, but most stared glumly at their cheese and and mushroom omlettes (with Belgium waffles at the side), and stoically shoved another mouthful in. I don’t really know what to make of that observation. It’s not that the passengers aren’t enjoying the cruise – I think they are. But I don’t think that most come from a place where the joy of living is something often noted. 

The man who cleans our cabin is from India. He is a Pentecostal Christian and tells us how much he loves Jesus. He is especially grateful because his 19 year old son is now a Jesus follower. Like most of the crew, he spends very little of the money he earns on himself, but sends it home for his family. He hopes he is making a difference for them. His job matters to him and he is proud that he is able to help them in this way. And so he should be. Though he is away from them, he does what he does for them. And he knows he is not alone – Jesus is with him. And he is happy, and helpful and proud of what he does. He has given us heaps of clues of what to do in each port. He hopes that his advice will make our trip more enjoyable, and our life a little happier.

If he had been born in a different country at a different time, he would have followed a career that would have seen him as one of the passengers – but that is not how life works for many, is it? But he does seem to me to be happy… such a perplexing thing, happiness, isn’t it?

I overheard a conversation at breakfast. Don’t judge me harshly – I wasn’t trying to listen – it’s just that some people have voices that really carry and the people in the cubicle next to ours were in that category. I really didn’t have a choice but to listen.

For the most part it was really good. They were a family of 5 – mom, dad and 3 boys, the oldest of whom was 10. Seems like the 10 year old had a major meltdown the night before, saying things that should never be said and then throwing things at his mother. Father had been at the gym but had heard about it later, and now mom and dad were addressing it over breakfast. 

Mom spoke first. She blamed the amount of sugar the boys had been eating, and announced a radically different menu for today, and then gave a list of what they could and could not eat. They took it in good spirits – certainly the 10 year old realised he deserved far worse. 

Then dad spoke. I thought he did a really good job. Spoke about how unacceptable what had happened was, spoke directly to the 10 year old about the changes that would soon come to his body (and you can’t throw things at people when you are a teenager – you can really hurt them and get into serious trouble) and made it clear that we are always accountable for what we do and need to take responsibility for our actions.

And then there was the twist. His tone changed, and became a little menacing. “When I was your age,” he said, “my father would beat me up – beat me up so bad I was left lying in a pool of blood. If you ever – like ever – throw something at your mother again, that is exactly what I will do to you. You don’t know how lucky you are that I was out at the gym. You wouldn’t be standing if I had been there.” Ouch… Dad, you were doing so well. I was cheering you on. But that ending, and those threats – no, no, I don’t think threatening what was your worst nightmare onto the next generation is the way to go.

Mum tried to rescue the day, as mums so often do. “So that’s the end of that boys. Now we are all going to have a wonderful day – you all agree. Great. Let’s have a wonderful day.”

Well, that converation was none of my business, but as I say, some people’s voices carry. It can be tough to be a parent, tough to know that the right thing to do is, and tough to know how not to dump your trauma from the past onto the next generation. 

I didn’t know what I could do, but I offered up a prayer. Perhaps you will too. 

I could carry on with multiple snapshots from the cruise, but Rosemary has just woken from her nap – another of the wonderful things you get to do on cruises. So with all due respect to you, my wonderful readers, she is now my priority, and I must say farewell to you, and chat to her about where we should have afternoon tea. 

Nice chatting…

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