Misinformation

I am willing to bet a decent chunk of my paycheck – actually, only about ten dollars, which is sadly a rather large percentage of my salary – that most of my friends who I am acquainted with outside of the CIA have the following vision of my daily routine:

French chefs gliding around the kitchen in pristinely white coats with large toques adorned with a silly poof tilted slightly off-center, holding a skillet in one hand and a wooden spoon in another, ever so gently stirring a sauce and sprinkling a little salt and pepper. They taste the sauce and, Parfait! , They announce to the wait staff, which is patiently waiting with a smile to pick up their order for you, the customer. Your steak is now being seared and cooked to order by a master butcher. The kitchen is filled with elegance and professionalism- a calm mystique engulfs the room as each masterpiece is artistically plated with the precision of a surgeon. Each detail meticulously calculated without error. Afterwards the kitchen staff gathers around for a grand dinner; fantastic wine, delicate cheese and fruits, crisp baguettes with a delectably soft center and perhaps a cake for dessert. They laugh and applaud each other for the wonderful service that they all put together almost as if they were an orchestra and the plates were their composition.

Well I’m here to call it: bullshit. (For many kitchens, anyway.)

Your vision of my life is not completely your fault, however! TV shows and movies have glamorized the industry that I have now sucked in to. But of course they want you to believe that each and every person in the back of each and every kitchen across the globe is specially trained and a master chef who can stand side by side with the likes of Gordon Ramsey, Bobby Flay, Cat Cora and all the other “Televsion Chefs” you can name. The reality is that the restaurant business is filled to the brim of regular everyday people who just know how to work- and work hard, at that. The days start early, the nights run late and it’s a pretty thankless job with next to no glamour for the large percentage of us. We work holidays (all of them) and earn a lot less money than those who’s weekly hours exceed no more than 40 while we hardly ever work less than 80.

So why does the majority of the service industry-employed army do what they do every day? For some, the answer is simply that it is a job that can be found in every corner of the globe from Albuquerque to Zimbabwe. For others, the passion for food far exceeds the rational-man’s thought processes to the point of obsession with flavors, textures and the manipulation of ingredients to create something from seemingly nothing. And for others still, it’s the ability to connect with the masses; feeding the drunk, the hungry, the bored, the rich and poor, the depressed, the joyous, the morose, the single-man and the married couple, the president and the average Joe alike is a wonderful feeling.

And for some, it’s to get on Kitchen Nightmares to be screamed at mercilessly by an angry British man.

Australia, How I love thee..

It is difficult to explain what is inherently intangible, so trying to describe what I felt in Australia is going to be nearly impossible. Here goes nothing.

There’s a sensation one feels the moment that foot touches land after being on the ship for so long- and no, I am not talking about the kind of feeling you get after being on a trampoline for an extended period of time and the Earth feels like it is bending and shaking underneath you. I am talking about the feeling you get when you arrive somewhere and you just know whether or not you will like it; whether or not you feel safe, happy or even if you know you will hate where you are. It is almost as if every location has its own energy coursing through its pavement.

In Dubai, the energy was unreal. And that is probably because it was just that; unreal. It was a lot of bright lights, lots of fireworks and razzmatazz without a whole lot of substance. It was a show without heart. But that is not a bad thing. Dubai is a place where the super-rich go to escape from reality. They are not paying through the nose to have to face whatever had already been left behind, so the un-realness is exactly what Dubai needs.

On the other end of the spectrum, Alexandria was almost too real. The city unapologetically stayed the same and did not alter itself and put on a façade to appease the thousands of guests who trampled the city littered in trash and debris every year. It is almost as if it said, Here I am, this is me. Take it or leave it. In its own way, that was pretty beautiful and brave to be so genuine with reckless abandon and without compromise.

Australia, however… Australia was something unique. The night before docking in our first port, Darwin, I was so excited I literally didn’t go to sleep. I had to find ways to occupy my time before docking at 6 in the morning other than pacing back and forth because my roommate started to think I had issues. It has always been my dream to go to Australia and I was finally here. I was like a kid on Christmas who had been given a thousand dollars to go to a candy store and then told I was going to Disney world. Yes that excited.

Once daylight broke I ran to the porthole closest to my room and pressed my nose up to the glass to watch the shores come in closer and closer. Once we finally laid down our anchor, my heartbeat spiked and I got even antsier.  Around 10 o’clock I met up with some Americans and we set off to explore Darwin, our first stop in Queensland, Australia. After swiping our cards to leave the ship, I stepped out into the Australian sun- which, by the way, I feel like was a heat lamp that God forgot to turn off over top the country- and took a deep breath. I immediately felt at home.

Walking around the city the energy felt electric and inviting but somehow still very relaxed, but not lazy. It is almost as if the people of Australia do everything the rest of the world does, but does not find the need to stress out about when it gets done. It is a very calming feeling.

We wandered to the Crocosaurus Zoo, which, unsurprisingly, was home to crocodiles. Terrifying, monstrous, ugly, gnarly crocodiles. You remember Steve Irwin? Remember how he used to wrestle these things? Well now I know why he was famous for doing it- these things have jaws that are so powerful they have the bite force of 44k. And they live in the water here- both salt and fresh. However, baby ones are actually kind of cute and cuddly! We met one named fluffy and did the normal tourist “oo-ing” and “ahh-ing” that we are expected to do. We took many photos and pointed at things that probably don’t even faze the typical Aussie. One should note: they drive on the left side of the road and the toilets do flush the opposite way.

Getting back on the boat was sad for me; I didn’t want to leave so soon. But I was even more excited for the next port of call, Brisbane, to meet up with my dear friend Ash who graciously agreed to show me around his city while I was there!

Ash has been a good friend of mine for a couple of years now. I met him in New York City while hanging around and lollygagging with Matt. Ash back then did what Aussies do best; talk to strangers. He came up to Matt and I and asked if we were local and was wondering if we could show him around the city a bit. We have been friends ever since. Ash has been back to New York City since then and kept telling me to come to Brisbane ASAP because I would love it. I constantly told him I would get there eventually, never really believing it myself. All of a sudden, here I am on the Solstice traveling 22 knots and hour, barreling towards his home city. It’s all very surreal.

Brisbane is part of the Gold Coast, which is famous for its rum, its beautiful beaches and Steve Irwin’s zoo, among other things. I can attest to the fantastic rum and its absolutely astounding beaches. We took a trip from the port of Brisbane to a place called Surfer’s Paradise, which is the most beautiful beach I have ever seen in my life. The beach had crystal clear waters, the air smelled only of salt, the sand was free of trash and the people were friendly and slightly less obese than I am used to on New Jersey shores.

We enjoyed a nice lunch by the beach and caught up. Having an extensive conversation with an Aussie always plants an idiotic smile on my face because I love the accent and the lingo. My favorite of their colloquialisms is I think what perfectly exemplifies the Australian spirit; No worries. There is no single phrase that could characterize them better No worries, what a perfect saying.

After spending my day in Brisbane, all I can think dream about is going back to the city on a slightly more permanent basis. Till we meet again, my dear city.

Let Me Count the Ways...

      I could never be a baker or a pastry chef. Never. Ever. Ever. I've come to realize this after 5 short days in the baking and pastry section of the galley(kitchen). Why? Let me paint a picture for you...
      It's dinner time and waiters- who are the wretch of society I might add- are screaming at you on the line for food, skipping in front of eachother because they think that their table is more important than the last. Telling you that you need to take out tomatoes when there is tomatoes in the sauce. Telling you that you're plating it wrong, which is interesting because their job is to merely carry the food to the hungry customer, not to tell you how to put the food on the plate itself. On the hot line, you yell back at the waiters to calm down. Sometimes you come up with witty things like, "Hey, penguin, you want to come behind the line and do my job? I'll give you my pay check." Or even, "You babbaloo," yes, babbloo is a real term used on the ship, " you couldn't tell a tomato from a comquat." Yes, its a fun little game that the kitchen and wait staff plays to insult eachother and then at the end of the day come together and enjoy a beer or two- or in my case, a soda.
      But in the pastry section its a completely different story. Everyone is eerily calm all the time. I'm pretty sure that the head pastry chef is slowly poisoning them all with eye drops or something. I've seen that stuff of 20-20, man. It happens! They all focus so intently on the pastries that they're plating that it makes me a little uncomfortable. Calm, cool, collected; annoying. They move with a breezy confidence that makes the hot line seem like a bunch of linebackers that are bumping in to one another without any sort of discretion. It's so irritating to watch them be so... perfect. And to boot, the other night I was plating the gelato and ice-cream on the dinner line and out of nowhere there was a line of about 20 waiters all sceaming for different things. " Applie pie a la mode!" "Pistachio, pistachio!" "Papi, double vanilla!" "I was here first, serve me!" So at first I gave them all a death stare that made the insanity subside for about five minutes. But then the chaos returned with a vengance. So I snapped. "Back the *bleep* off!" My team, which was quiet to begin with, somehow managed to become even more silent than before. My supervisor came over and put his hand on my shoulder with a concerned look on his face and genuinely inquired, "Are you okay? Do you need a break? I know its stressful here." I just stared at him, dumbfounded. You are all too nice. That's problem number one.
     My second problem is that I absolutely, unequivocally hate being sticky. Hate it, hate it, hate it. A lot. The feeling of leaning on a counter and having to literally peel my arm off of it afterwards because you leaned on some puddle of what once was a sugary confection makes my skin crawl. At the very mention of honey or jelly I went and washed my hands. I must have been at the hand sink about 10 times in one hour the other day, once again causing concern in my superiors. They think I am a germaphobe. "I hate sticky messes." I must have said about 30 times already while obsessively cleaning the counter tops.
    I want to eat everything, I think is the biggest issue. I see a chocolate cake with a caramel cream layer. strawberry topping and chantilly cream, its mine. Banana bread with walnuts and banana brulee? Why yes, I'd love to sample some. Molten lava cake with French Vanilla bean ice cream? I need to know what it tastes like, you know? Seriously, every single thing in the pastry kitchen just screams snack time to me. And I know that it can be the same way in the culinary section, but I usually snack on things like vegetable scraps and fruit. Those don't really exist in the pastry kitchen. Or if they do, I haven't seen an asparagus soufle quite yet.
    I can't be nice, I can't stand sticky messes and I'm going to get huge if I stay in the pastry kitchen any longer. Thank baby Jesus its only for 16 days! To all my P&B friends, I salute you.

30 Days and 30 Nights

     In some ways it's really hard to believe that I have been on the Solstice for a whole month. In some ways, it seems like I just stepped foot on the ship yesterday, and in others it feels as if I have been here for much longer than just the 30 days that have passed so far.
    Just one month ago I was reluctantly saying good-bye to my family at the airport, leaving behind literally everything I knew in search of adventure and experiences to carry me through a life-time. Boarding the plane to Barcelona I was anxious, nervous and honestly a little bit scared of the world I had never seen other than in pictures of magazines. But I was excited, ready to take whatever head-on and not back down.
    After I landed in Barcelona I met up with my friend Julia, a local that I know through tennis. She showed me around the city a little bit; I rode of the back of a motorcycle in the pouring rain, saw La Sagrada Familia and had a mojito in Spain. Never thought I would say I had done all those things in one day. The very next day I was taken to the ship and was completely awestruck by the size of the vessel. 14 floors, 2000 guests, 1000 employees. The first day was a whirlwind of paperwork, orientation and meetings. Then I was put straight to work. Despite the fact that you have an orientation period, they expect you to get trained mostly on the job. Between the crazy work hours, the constant moving between time zones and being homesick, the first few days were pretty exhausting.
    Our first stop brought me to Alexandria, Egypt. While not exactly a 4-star luxury city, it had its own unique charm and appeal. Something that a world traveler may very well like to see and experience because its so raw and unpolished. I cannot express how fascinating I found the city to be. The next place I stopped in was Duabi, UAE. Talk about a wonderland. The metropolis just oozed money and affluence. Had I not been on the ship I don't think they would have let someone so common as myself even look at the city! What a blast that night was.
     Then came my first missed holiday. Thanksgiving. In the past, Thanksgiving marked the first of the holiday season that I spent surrounded by many friends and family. It was when everyone came home from college for a few days and we all spent time together talking about what we've missed in each other's lives and saying so long for a couple weeks until winter break came along. It represented the season that brings my family back together and warms my heart and brings tears to my eyes. I sat in my room thinking about everything that I'd miss back home and going through old pictures from years past before going to work and serving a few hundred meals before lunch was even over. During my break I ran into some friends from the spa and the gym; two Americans and a few English girls plus one Australian. They talked me in to staying for a game of make-shift 6 cup beer pong on two small circular tables in celebration of Thanksgving. I stayed and I couldn't be happier that I did. They reminded me that the holidays were about celebrating everything you love and appreciate. It was a great day.
      I've met some amazing people on board the ship, been to seven countries, and eight cities, fallen in love with one or two of our stops along the way and continue to look towards the future to see what this journey will bring me. 30 days down and 95 more to go; bring it on. Next stop, Bali and Australia!

Thank You

     There are so many things that I can say thank you for and I'm sure that I could never fully convey just how thankful I am but I will do my best. Happy thanksgiving everyone back home!
Thank you to all my teachers in high school and formative educational years; I really mean all of you.  Thank you to the teachers who always supported individuality and making your own mark. Thank you especially to all the teachers way back when that made class so incredibly boring that all I could think about was never having to take a math or science or history ever again ! Had your class actually kept me awake, I may have ended up being a lawyer or doctor or something. That'd just be ludicrous.
Thank you to all of the externship sites I applied to for turning me Down or flat out not answering. At first I was really upset by the lack of responses, but sitting where I am now ( which is Malaysia, by the way) I realize that your rejections  led me on a journey I could have never conceived in my wildest dreams. Thanks to all of you, I've now been to six countries, 7 cities and have joined a crew that represents over 60 countries. And it's only been one month since I've gotten here. to think I could be stuck in jersey or NYC right now.
     Thank you to my friends, both old and new, for being by my side through thick and thin. I believe People come in to our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. There are those who have come into my life for one sole purpose, whether they know it or not, and moved on. Some for an extended period of time but fade away after a while. And some have stayed in my life for years and I know will continue to be in my life for many more years. I value all of you and love you all equally. Without your support I don't know where I'd be.
      And last but certainly not least by any stretch of the imagination, thank you to my family. The hardest part of being on this ship is knowing that I can't just drive home when I miss you. I can't even fly home. I've become acutely aware of just how far away we are from eachother now. But I know it just means our reunion will be that much better. Being on this ship has showed me the sacrifice and love that is necessary to enable the success of not just yourself but of your family. It's an unconditional and powerful force that never ceases to amaze me.
      I never thought I'd be in Malaysia for thanksgiving or Sydney for Christmas. But that does not change my spirit in this season. I send you all my love and best wishes now and always.

Dubai

                                Let’s say that, hypothetically speaking, a man walks up to you one day and says, “If you give me your first born child I will give you the keys to my apartment in Dubai with my credit card. No questions asked.” You take the deal. There is NO other option. Sell your kidneys, take up some kind of black market trade operation, become a lady of the night. Do something, anything to go to Dubai.

                On a more serious note, the city of Dubai is really something spectacular. From the port, it looks just like any metropolitan city, with its intricate infrastructure, skyline, the smell of ludicrous amounts of liquid assets in the air. However, take a ten minute taxi from the port of Dubai to the city center, where the mall is, and your breath is literally stolen from you and every one of your senses is over taken by the most amazing city on the planet. Now, of course the number of places I’ve been in my lifetime is slightly limited, making my point of view somewhat…. Unfair. But the bright lights are the first things to hit you from the taxi. I mean REALLY bright lights. Christmas lights surround every palm tree, but in intricate patterns that don’t make them look cheesy. It’s a certain elegance I didn’t know existed with Christmas lights. The signs of the stores must be ten times brighter than the ones in Times Square. Super vibrant colors adorn the billboards everywhere you look. There are families walking hand in hand late at night looking for places to shop and eat and do whatever the super rich do. I assume they eat lobster and wash their hands with silkwater and dry them with one hundred dollar bills. Also I made up silk water. But if that were a real thing, they’d have it in Dubai.

                The center of the city is encapsulated by the mall, the burj khalifa ( I really have no idea how to spell it or if that’s even the right name but I don’t have time to google it because I’m cheap, so do it yourselves) which is the tallest building in the world and other little restaurants and shops and large hotel chains. In the very middle of the center of the city is a massive , crystal clear pool with fountains everywhere. They lay dormant until about 9:30 pm or so, but when they come to life, it’s something to be seen. I have a video of what I’m about to describe because there really are no words to describe it. Every half an hour music starts to play and the fountains come to life, shooting streams of water at various heights and angles, dancing along with the music and being illuminated by God’s light. Okay, maybe it’s just by some lights in the fountains, but I’m going to say God himself is coordinating the light show. It’s really amazing. They played every kind of music from Michael Jackson to Russian hip hop to some Andrea Bocceli. And at a certain angle you can see the fountain show with the burj khalifa in the background, standing towering over you. If you want to have a reality check and feel small, don’t stand next to a mountain. Stand next to this building. Saying is tall is like saying Dubai is nice. It’s such a gross understatement its almost insulting.

                Probably my favorite part about the city is that it’s so clean I would literally (okay, maybe only figuratively) eat off of the ground. After being in the city for 6 hours, I had not seen a single piece of trash on the floor. Not a single one. Everyone walked around and politely smiled in an almost Stepford-wife fashion. I had never felt so safe in a city before in my entire life.

It’s definitely a once in a lifetime opportunity that I cannot believe I had the chance to experience. Now that we’re on the subject, is anyone interested in purchasing one of my kidneys?

Never Forget What Makes You Happy

    It’s really easy to forget why you start doing something you love. In the beginning it’s all rainbows and butterflies, things just couldn’t go wrong. The sun is always shining and the birds are always singing. But then reality sinks in and what you love suddenly becomes something you loathe and can’t wait to get away from. It’s no different working in the kitchen. The first week or so on board couldn’t have been more magical. Everything was brand new and waiting to be discovered. By the end of the second week, though, everything became familiar and very gray. And then yesterday I felt it.

 

    I woke up at 7 am just as I do every day, but it was different. I hit the “Shut the hell up” button on my phone and stared at my ceiling for a solid ten minutes before every so gracefully falling down the three rungs of my bunk bed ladder to be greeted by my work clothes waiting for me on the chair sitting next to my dresser. I showered, brushed my teeth, shaved and got dressed and I knew; today I did not want to go to work. How horrible of a feeling to not want to go to work. To feel too tired, too stressed, too much of everything to put on your shoes and go face the day. To not want to do something that once made you so elated and now just makes you want to crawl in to bed and slip in to a temporary coma and not wake up until someone finds you a new job somewhere else away from all of these people. Yet somehow, I made it up to the fourth floor and started my day peeling and peeling, and chopping and chopping, and mincing and staring off into space wondering what fresh air smells like.  Break time. Nap time. Lather, rinse, repeat.

 

   Around 7:45, the tail end of first dinner seating, I was walking to the dish pit when the executive sous chef, Sergio, came up to me and said in a hurry, “Do you have a black apron?”. I answered simply, “Yes.” And pointed to the apron I was already wearing. “Perfect!” he said, took me by the hand and lead me to the doors of the Grand Epernay where all the customers come to eat dinner. There was music blaring and I could feel the bass in my chest like an external heart beat. A rhythmic clapping and lots of shouts and whistles joined the thumping; it sounded like a party.  Sergio turned to me and said, “Just remember to smile.” I started to ask him what was going on but before I could get the words of my mouth he winked at me, opened the double doors to the Grand Epernay and shoved me into the ruckus.

 

   I had no idea what was going on.  Everyone was on their feet. Black Eyed Peas was playing at a decibel I didn’t know was possible. Customers were waving their napkins around in the air. Strobe lights were going off and a DJ was announcing the arrival of the kitchen crew.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the stars of your dinner show tonight, the Galley staff lead by Head Executive Chef Javier Carabe!” My head chef came out from behind a podium on the other side of the dining room and started jumping up and down, pumping his fist in the air and encouraging all the guests to scream even louder. Next the executive sous chef did the same, followed by the head Pantry chef, the Sous Chef, the Pastry, the Bakery Chef and even the Crew Mess Chef.  “And lets not forget the amazing team behind these incredible leaders, “ continued the DJ  “the dedicated crew that makes all of this possible, your galley crew!” All of a sudden a rush of 1^st cooks, 2^nd cooks, Chef de Partie and numerous other galley crewmen rushed the stage jumping up and down. They were all laughing and having a good time. I couldn’t help but smile along with them.

    “What are you doing! Go on the stage!” said one of my fellow cooks on the line with me, grabbing my hand and running towards the stage. We climbed on the stage and started laughing and playfully shoving each other around and being silly to entertain the guests. For a few minutes I forgot about how much I hated work and everything that came along with it. I forgot about how much prep I had to do. I forgot how many carrots I had to peel. I forgot about how many plates I had to serve. I just enjoyed being happy with everyone on that stage.

 

    When the music stopped playing the DJ asked the crowd if they enjoyed their dinners on board the ship they produced a deafening roar. I looked around at all the guests and they were smiling and applauding. They were genuinely happy. At the end of it all we all went back in to the kitchen. My chef came over and put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Never forget what makes you happy.” and walked away.  The whole reason I started cooking is because it’s a way to achieve a person-to-person connection that breaches all barriers. Food is an expression of love that warms the heart and soul. I had forgotten why I started cooking, what made me happy. Seeing all the guests exuding the kind of love and appreciation reminded me why  I was here. Never forget what makes you happy.

Sorry For the Delay!

     Sorry for the delay in blogs and answering emails, Facebook messages and carrier pigeons. Work has been crazy! I just finished an 85-hour workweek and am pretty spent. I also decided that I didn’t feel like paying $.14/minute for Internet. So the posts from now on are going to be slightly spaced out.

 

     Some of you may be wondering what exactly I’ve been doing these past 16 days abroad on the Celebrity Solstice other than crying because I’m lost and leaving said vessel to go around foreign lands and become a more globally-aware young individual. Well, my dear friends, my nametag reads, “Ryan D. Senatore, USA, Culinary Extern.” Which translates to, “White. Make Him Do Whatever You Want, Speaks English.”

 

     For the first sixteen days, the entirety of the first cruise from Barcelona, Spain to Dubai, UAE, I was in the pantry. No, that does not mean that I was stuffed in some closet somewhere…. I don’t do closests. Get it? Pantry is ship terminology for Garde Manger, the place where all the cold foods are prepared such as salads and cold appetizers. The ship has a lot of strange terminology, like galley. A galley is a kitchen. So…. Could we please just call it a kitchen? Anyway, I digress. The pantry was a nice transition in to ship life; getting adjusted to the constant time zone changes, the rocking of the ship, the demanding work schedule. The work in pantry wasn’t too intense in terms of skill level or execution so much as it was intense in terms of sheer quantity of food production. We served over 2000 people daily and all of them order one of the three varieties daily offered for salad and one of the two for appetizer. However, on multiple occasions I was pulled out of the closet (ha ha) and pulled on to the hot line to help out and be what’s referred to as round cook.

 

     No. Round cook does not mean I have gotten fat. Round cook is what the ship calls a prep cook. The round cooks prepare all the garnishes for all of the entrees – there are 6 daily- as well as a lot of the sides, starches and special orders. They also have the responsibility of joining the line during service when needed.  This is a little bit more challenging, you see. I’m still preparing the food for over 2000 customers per day, but now I’m making very ornate garnishes for every plate of food, helping with the sauce, making rice, mashed potatoes and all the accoutrement that go along with the dishes as well as serving on the line. It’s a little bit intense!

 

 It’s starting to get hot in the kitchen.

New Friends

    I think its easy to get caught up in the daily routine. Wake up, shower, brush your teeth, get dressed, eat breakfast, go to work, eat lunch, go back to work, eat dinner, go back to work, clean up, take a shower, go to sleep; lather, rinse, repeat. It's like an endless loop-de-loop of tireless repetition. It's no different on the ship. We have scheduled work times, scheduled rest times, scheduled meal times Every single thing is on a schedule.
    I was thinking about my schedule as I was walking down the same hallway i do every morning on my way to work. I thought about how I pass the same peopel every morning, say the same half-hearted How you doing, with the same smile and am greeted with the same response, Fine thank you. If you know me, you know i love meeting new people. Love it. I could walk around by myself for hours just talking to random people and having the time of my life. It has been driving me insane that I see the same 20 people every day when there is a ship of 1500 crew members. So, on a whim, I decided to turn left when I usually go forward. I went up a flight of stairs, down a corridor and wandered around aimlessly. And then I curled in to the fetal position and began to cry when I realized I had absolutely no clue where I was.
     While I was crying and desperately trying my best to decode maritime language ( I'm still trying to figure out what PPE AFT DK 5 means) a girl around my age with a thick English accent said, "Oi, you luhk a littewl lost lahv, need some help?" or in American, " You're an idiot. I will help you." She walked me back to the hall way where I was supposed to be, all the while asking me about where I come from, about my family back home, school, how long my contract is, why I have no sense of direction whatsoever; usual things. When we parted ways we exchanged phone number and made plans to hang out with each other soon.
    I walked away smiling to myself. Had I known that all I had to do was get lost on this giant ship to make new friends, I would have done it long ago.

Initiation

     I thought I was going to be able to get through my first leg of the cruise without being initiated. I thought wrong. Much like the frats of yester-year, the kitchen has a very strong, machismo undertone that creates something of a brotherhood inside the four walls, lined with stainless steal appliances and sharp cutting utensils. Outsiders are not welcome until they have proven their loyalty to the chef and their fellow kitchen swashbucklers. (Please note: I know absolutely nothing about frats, I'm only making the aforementioned assumptions based off of Animal House and other classic American cinema. )
     Today I was given the task of peeling, deveining and butterflying 3,000 shrimp. And I was not to leave my station until the job was completed and approved by my chef. This was when I started wishing I hadn't stayed out at the (wine and) cheese party on the boat until 2:30 in the morning. (Please note as well: I did not partake in the wine, as per my contract with Celebrity Cruise lines ! Just in case one of my supervisors decides to read my blog...) So I stood there and for a few hours, my day went like this: Peel, peel, peel, peel. Devein, devein, devein, devein. Butterfly, butterfly, butterfly.
     At about hour two, I was starting to get pretty annoyed. But then I remembered my training. No, not what the training you're thinking of. No, my dear friends, I did not rely on the training from my culinary school to get my through this. I used the skills I learned in high school to help me along. You see, I was the master of zoning out in class and doing work without actually thinking about it. And of course on the :cough: rare occasion that I would get in trouble for something and sent to a silent one-hour detention, I found a way to think about absolutely nothing the entire time to maintain some sense of sanity.
    In conclusion, I would like to thank my very boring classes all throughout high school for teaching me invaluable lessons such as: not listening during conversations with superiors but nodding and saying, "Yes of course" at the right times, being able to stare at a wall for hours on end and not making my eyes bleed, and last but not least being able to take all in stride and keeping in mind that every task has its purpose whether we immediately recognize it or not.

The Jewel of the Middle East

Alexandria, Egypt:

     All I can say is, Wow. You never really understand the world until you go experience it. It's hard to convey in writing what this city is like. The people are very simple; t-shirts and jeans. No brand names apart from the elite class. Everyone mills around on what seems like an endless merry-go-round of greeting tourists with flashy fake gold and sitting down drinking their precious tea with mint.

      After finally getting off the ship I was almost immediately greeted by a stout little man by the name of Yousif. His family owned a small souvenir shop directly off the aft side of the boat and he called me over, shook my hand and proudly said, "Welcome to my home!" We chatted for about half an hour about how he sees many people come from the ships and always wants to help as much as possible. He told me that he had a thing of tea brewing in the back as well, in case I was thirsty or wanted to sit and talk for a while. At first this seemed like a red flag, but the more people I interacted with while in Alexandria the more I realized everyone extended the same offer, no matter how much money or tea they had. I politely told him I wasn't thirsty and he continued on about the city, warned me to be wary of strangers trying to lead me down back alleyways and to always trust my instincts. I politely thanked him for the conversation and information and started to go on my way. About three steps from his shop he stopped me and said, Catch! As I turned around I saw something flying through the air at me. I caught it (not gracefully I might add) and inspected it. It was a kitchy metal shot glass with EGYPT inscribed in really ugly lettering. I loved it nonetheless, smiled and thanked him profusely before continuing on my way.

     Arriving at the port of Alexandria's main gate was slightly intimidating. I was met by four armed guards with very stern faces. They didn't offer me any tea. I was searched, asked to present my passport and crew ID and was directed not to leave the city limits of Alexandria as per my contract. I was also warned that being an American made me a target for theft and murder and to always be on my guard. One of the men pointed me in the direction of the center of the city and said, "Go.". Who was I to argue? I stepped around the gate that blocked my line of view and was greeted by the sounds of taxi drivers yelling different offers at me,
"One hour, ten dollars!"
"No, one hour 8 dollars!"
"No one knows the city like me!"

     I pushed through them with minor difficulty and continued walking. The streets were absolutely littered with trash; you could find everything from doll clothes, to paper waste to rotten food. Needless to say it was not exactly the cleanest city I've ever been to. Actually, to be completely honest, it was pretty raunchy. Also a little side note: there are THOUSANDS of stray cats. Seriously. A shit ton.

     I walked about a quarter, occasionally snapping some pictures and constantly being sure to avoid the cats. Seriously, so many cats. While I was taking a picture of the Egyptian water fountain I saw a man in the corner of my eye pointing at me and smiling. I assumed he was making fun of me; I am a tourist after all. I took the picture and proceeded to wade my way through the sea of garbage that I accepted as the streets of Alexandria.

     When I passed the man who was laughing at me, he was sitting outside of his coffee shop, enjoying his tea with mint. I looked at him, smiled and said hello in Arabic and waved. It may have been the Arabic, maybe it was the fact that I actually smiled or maybe it was something else about me, but the man cocked his head to the side and watched as I walked by; he seemed intrigued. I was about thirty feet from him when he called out, "You know something. I must apologize for the current state of my once beautiful home. It hasn't always been like this. Ever since we over turned our government, basic functions such as sanitation have all but come to a halt." I turned around and found the man out of his seat and with his hand outstretched, doing his best Vanna White impression. I wasn't sure what to say back to that, I didn't want to lie to him. It was pretty dirty. So I said, "New York City isn't a whole lot better." He laughed and slapped his knee and ran towards me with his hand ready to shake mine, "My name is Yousif. Welcome to Alexandria. I'm sorry to have laughed at you earlier, but we all love tourists. Especially Americans. And you are definitely an American."

     He offered to take me on a tour of the city, free of charge because he had never met an American who smiled and seemed as gentle as me. He gave me two options, to see the tourist side of Egypt or the real kind. I told him to show me the real kind, the one that people live with every day. After all, I was here to see the world, not what the world thought I wanted to see. He smiled and whistled at me to come with him.

      We walked down the street and said we needed to cross, his one rule : Look at me, not the cars. With that, we crossed the street. There was a chorus of honking and yelling and cursing and Yousif simply waved at the cars and continued on with myself staying VERY close behind him. Our first stop was the Egyptian Bazaar. The Bazaar had a specific name but if I even attempted to try to remember it my brain would explode, so it is now called The Bazaar. This outdoor marketplace was full of everything one could think of; literally. Live goats, live fish, cats, dogs, homeless people, rich people, horses, "doctors", fishermen, spices and even prostitutes lined the streets of Alexandria. It was amazing. The quality of all the products were not what really stood out, but the fact that everyone bought their goods in this manner was what was fascinating. There was no refigeration. There was no health or sanitation code. There was no licensing or monitoring of goods. This was a real hand-to-hand exchange of products from supplier to consumer. It was beautiful in a sense.

     There were some familiar sights such as Nestle products and Coca-Cola and the usual global super brands.Yousif never pressured me to buy anything, so I didn't, but he explained all the goods and the men who operated the stands. He saw someone he recognized ( what I would soon learn to be a pretty common occurrence) and started talking to him. He introduced me and I said my bit of Arabic that I knew. This made the fruit stand owner smile and he said something to Yousif who seemed surprised and delighted.
"He said he would like you to have this fruit. He knows it does not come in America and he wants you to have it, no charge."
     I was handed a fruit that looked something like a pear but much heavier. I was instructed to take a bite and that the entire fruit was edible, I did as I was told. The taste was somewhere between an apple and pear with the texture of a honeydew. Definitely something new for me, that's for sure. I said thank you about a thousand times to the stand owner and we went on our way.
     Our next stop was the largest mosque in Alexandria. As is always customary, we removed our shoes before entering the grandiose building with what must have been fifty-foot ceilings, and sat on chairs circling the perimeter of the center of worship. Yousif was slightly tired so he encouraged me to go walk around, take pictures and explore. I did so, marveling at the ornate hand-painted Arabic that was scrawled all over the place, it was everywhere- floor, ceiling, light bulbs, books. It was really beautiful. After I made my rounds I came back to my tour guide who just sat admiring the mosque with a smile. A few minutes of silenced passed and I felt I had to ask,
"Why did you offer to take me around Alexandria? Are you always this kind to tourists?"
     Yousif looked at me and smirked, "No, not always this kind. But when I saw you taking pictures and walking around by yourself I knew that you were not a typical tourist. You had an energy about you, like you were curious to find the truth about the world. I felt it was my responsibility to show you my part of the world and to hope that one day you can do the same for me; this is how the world goes round. Also, I knew you were a good man when you tried to say things in Arabic to me and my friends, it shows that you have a genuine desire for connection with us despite being total strangers." He sighed and continued, "You know, I want to make sure that you understand as well that what happened in America on the eleventh of September was terrible and we felt so sad for your country. Our nation weeped for your fallen brothers as did your people. It was a tragedy and what the radicals did should not cloud your judgement of all Arab people." He concluded, with a twinkle in his eye that actually turned into a single tear drop that ran down the left side of his face before disappearing into his beard.
     "Thank you, I appreciate that. And I know you are not all the same as all Americans are not the same as well." After a brief pause to look at the inscriptions on the ceiling, we stood up and left the mosque.
     From the mosque we went to a jewelry store with real silver and gold and precious stones, a perfume maker who mixed everything by hand, a few clothing stores, a tea merchant and finally we ended up back at Yousif's coffee shop about a quarter mile from the boat's entrance. We sat and drank one glass on tea with mint and watched together as toursists from other cruise ships passed by in their Hawaiin flavored attire ( it actually looked like a mix of tropical throw-up) looking around at the port of Alexandria. I stood up and shook Yousif's hand when I finished my tea and he said to me, "I will never forget you, Ryan. My new American brother. Now you always have family in Egypt."
    We said our good-bye's and I went on my way towards the ship. I had to treck through the same muck and grime, the trash, the homeless, the thousands of stray cats and the belligerent taxicab drivers but this time when I shoved my way through the sea of hounding salesmen, it all took new light. Maybe it was the tea with mint that relaxed me or maybe it was the pear that satisfied a hunger I didn't know I had, but Alexandria suddenly looked beautiful from where I was standing. The Jewel of the Middle East maybe was not the city itself, but the kind and generous people who reside in it, begging to be understod by outside world. Getting on the ship and taking one last look back towards land I felt a satisfaction I hadn't known I'd been seeking. This was just step one in a many part journey to see the world that I call home.

There' No Escaping New Jersey

One of my favorite parts about being on this ship is that the crew represents about 40-50 different countries. You could literally go around the ship and ask where people are from and get a different answer almost every time. That being said, however, there are almost no Americans! There are so few of us that whenever someone asks where I'm from and I answer, "United States", their eyes light up like they just found the cutest puppy in the entire world. When they ask where in the US I say New Jersey most of them have no idea what that is, apart from the few that watch the Jersey Shore on MTV anyway and in that case I walk away shaking my head and wanting to find Snooki and drop kick her in the face. So when they don't know what New Jersey is I say New York and they go wild- everyone here loves New York. Now I'm known as Ryan from New York, which is kind of a lie but whatever I'm sure it won't cause them to lose any sleep.

The only people I've met here from the States have been entertainers; dancers, singers, musicians and that sort of thing. And the weird thing? ALL from New Jersey. Every. Single. One. I'm almost 6000 miles away from home and people from 20 miles from Sparta are on the boat with me. You literally cannot escape New Jersey!

Commence Sleepiness

Before I left everyone and their mother (literally) was giving me advice on how to combat sea-sickness. I am happy to report, however, that I do not experience sea-sickness. At all. Not even on the rough seas that we're on right now- I saw three waiters fall, I giggled. Although, on the flip-side, I do have to say I experience some side effect, one I coined "the sea sleepies". The sea-sleepies is definitely medical-standard terminology. Basically the sea sleepies come from a constant back and forth motion caused by the waves the ship is going over that lulls me to sleep every time I sit down or blink for too long of a period of time. Thank baby Jesus for Red Bull.

Side note: today the captain came around and hand delivered letters to everyone informing them of the possible pirate attacks that may or may not occur on our particular travel route. Nice.

Things Are Happening!

I finally figured out how to make the internet work here. And at 14 cents per minute, I also figured out how to make it work quickly. So here's my blog post!

You know that picture I put on my Facebook of the ship? Yeah, you know how it look pretty big? Well. Its massive. I mean 17 total floors kind of massive. It houses 3k guests and almost 200 employees. Insanity, I can't even express it in words, I'll have to take pictures.

So, the first day of the cruise is called embarkation! And its... really boring. Talk about a snoozefest. It reminds me a lot of the first few days of grade school where everyone sits around anxiously waiting to meet the teacher and being slightly terrified of the cafeteria food. This is the same except replace school kids with thirty-something year old Russians and Serbians, the teacher with Heather the alway happy Head of Whateverthehellshedoeshere and the cafeteria food slightly more off  putting glop. Mmmmm... glop.

However, the most exciting portion of the otherwise mundane and neglible info-session was being handed our ship itinerary, mapping out day by day where the ship will be. I had never imagined in a million years I'd be going the places that I am while on board the Solstice. After three days at sea, on the 30th of October, I arrive in Alexandria......... Egypt. Yeah, EGYPT! Let that sink in..... Has it sunk in yet? Yeah, me neither. I cannot even begin to tell you all how excited I am to: A) get on land again, I literally havent been outside in four days and B) go meandering around Alexandria, the jewel of the middle east!

Other ports include Safaga, Egypt, Oman, Jordan, this little place called Dubai, Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore and then FINALLY onn the 30th of November I touch base in the promised land: Australia! Making stops in Brisbane, Darwin, Adelaide,Sydney, Perth, Albany and Melbourne.

Have you crapped your pants yet? Yeah... me neither.

Care Free

Story Time:

So, upon arriving to the (insert heavy sarcasm here) luxurious hotel about 3 miles from the Barcelona Airport, I was given a room-key and sent on my merry way to do as I pleased with my first and only 24 hour stay in Barcelona. The world was my oyster. I literally could do anything I wanted. The possibilities were endless; see La Sagrada Familia, go meet locals at the bars, go dance, shop! So what did I decide to do? Walk around butt ass naked. A lot.

Here's the thing about living alone... it's freaking awesome. Literally there is nothing bad about living alone except for the fact that you can't blame smells and messes on anyone else- but that's the reason you get a dog or a gerbil or some other form of smell/mess scapegoat.

Perhaps the single best thing about living alone is the ability to do whatever, whenever. If you want to crochet a picture of the Virgin Mary for your weird neighbor's nephew's birthday while listening to Adele and simultaneously sobbing about a break-up that made you set fire to the rain, you DO it. Why? Because you can! If you want to walk around butt-ass freakin' naked, you do it. Why? Because you can... and you always feel like you look a whole lot better naked when there's no mirrors or anyone else around to judge you. However, looking back at what I said earlier, the whole having a pet thing here would actually be annoying- who wants those beady little eyes staring at you while you walk around in the buff, right? Plus cats look like they're judging you so hardcore all the time.

So there I am walking around in my nudist glory. Letting it all hang out and not having a care in the world. It felt great!... until Anton walked in on me doing la macarena around the room. Talk about awkward.

Interesting side-note to this story that the hotel forgot to tell me; the room I stayed in wasn't a single after all.

Perfect.

Day 1

So, what I really wanted to call this blog was, "imkeepingthisblogbecauseifididntmymotherwouldcometonewzealandandkillmeinmysleep". Strangely enough, though, that URL was already taken! Who knew?

Perhaps the most interesting part about this whole, "going abroad and seeing the world while getting paid to do it thing" is that I had have absolutely NO concept of what I'm doing. What do I mean, you may ask? Well, what I great question! I may answer. Here's how a typical conversation would go about a couple months ago with some of my friends.

Friend: "Hey! How are you? Do you know where you're going for externship yet?"
Me(in between tears): "No shut up."

And then about two weeks ago...

Friend: "I see that you have an externship with Celebrity Cruise lines, that's so great! Do you know where you're going?"
Me" "No."
Friend: " Oh... do you know how long you'll be there?"
Me: "No."
Friend: "Uh.. are you getting paid?"
Me: " That's a mighty fine question to which I have no response."
Friend: "Do you get to get off the boat?"
Me: "No clue."
Friend: "... do you know anything about your externship?"
Me: "That I have one. Why do you ask so many questions anyway?"

Yes, as you can see, I am one extremely well prepared individual. However, I know the answers to all those questions and (not much) more! I flew from JFK to Barcelona Airport and will board my ship, the Celebrity Solstice from here; we will be doing a tour around Australia and New Zealand, going around in one giant circle for a little bit. It's going to be so great. Don't worry, dearest of friends, I AM getting paid. I refuse to disclose the dollar amount mostly because I'm being paid in children's tears, and thats hard to convert to the USD. I do get the opportunity to get off the boat and explore when I have time off and we're in port, which is exciting! As you may all well know, I love Australians and (I'm assuming) New Zealand folk. Hey, interesting little bit of information for you all. People from NZ are called Kiwis. Which is great, because I love Kiwis as an edible fruit. I also know that there are more sheep than people and that there is an uncanny build up of sulfur there so it can smell like rotten eggs on occasion. Also, I'm not sure what Australians do as a country, but I think they're paid to be happy all the time.

Anyway, I will keep this updated as often as possible. I can't promise it will be interesting, though. I love and miss you all already (except for you, Rebecca Senatore!) and can't wait to hear all about your lives as well. Keep in touch!