Chapter 1
The Boarding
I’ve traveled for a long time; the journey of 16 hours in a van made me feel like a canned fish. It wasn’t just the confined space, but the smell of sweat, alcohol, and cigarettes, always spiced up by some guy who took off his shoes. The smell of roadkill socks stirred up the brain like stew. The only option in a van was to stick your head through a closed window.
One of the passengers behind me said, “Hey man, you trying to kill us all in here? Put your shoes back on.”
The man with the stinky socks replied, “What? Why?”
Everyone complained about the smell while the stinky socks guy’s face remained puzzled, completely oblivious to their discomfort. He put the shoes back on, probably thinking he didn’t smell anything. The driver opened some windows, and the fresh air came in like a drop of water in a desert. I saw a plane in the sky, and it made me wonder how beautiful and comfortable it must be up there.
We arrived close to the ship, and I felt like this was my true calling. I could feel the ship in my blood, probably because my father, his father, and so on were seamen. It’s hard to explain, like your heart is at peace and calm. The ship looked strange, with a big hangar doorway and cars on the decks—it was probably a RO-RO ship. As I exited the van, I hoped my lungs would be filled with fresh sea air. Instead, the air smelled like dead fish and burnt oil.
Everyone from the van gathered on the ship ramp and waited for the disembarking crew. On a closer look, the ramp was all rusty, welded in a few spots; even the ship looked like a bucket of rust. A crewmember from the inside of the ship shouted, “Aaaa, fresh punjeta!”
My brain worked around this word—'punjeta?’ I had never heard of that; it must be some seaman expression. Another voice echoed from inside the ship, “They are here. The crew change is here.”
After a minute, I observed a stampede of crewmembers. The leader of the group was a young, overweight man, about 20 years old, with a prominent belly. He hauled his big suitcases with such speed and strength, like his life depended on it. The young man stormed quickly to the van and threw his suitcases in the trunk.
One person from the crew approached me. It was an elderly man with a commanding presence. His distinguished appearance was marked by a full head of thick, silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His rugged, yet refined features were complemented by a strong jawline and piercing, intelligent eyes that seemed to hold a wealth of wisdom and experience. For a second, you could say he was a Captain, but the label on his chest read Chief Officer.
Chief said with
