Night Boat Shuffle 2
There was some shuffling, but at first it seemed fine. We just moved closer together even though the berths were quite narrow. Two Chilenian girls got talking to the guys on my right and settled in as the berths filled up.
“If one sleeps with the feet next to the other’s heads, we could fit three into the space for two,” I said, “but I don’t think it works for the locals since it’s offensive to point your feet at someone’s face.”
“You’re right, else they’d try to fit twice as many people in here,” said sailor-boy who had the space next to mine.
But he turned out to be wong. And we weren’t taking twice as many. The Thai women who were settling in next to me had booked a grand total of two berths between them and were trying to fit in all five of them. It would have worked, if two of them hadn’t been supersized—by which I mean clinically obese.
We were still mostly sitting up and chatting. There was a marine on board (Isn’t there always?) and we stared in disbelief as he proceeded to attach a heavy duty canvass hammock to the pillars in the aisle. Who but a marine travels with a heavy duty canvass hammock? While people were squirming on the deck below him, he lay down in comfort, watching a movie.
We were underway. Carrying twice its assigned number of passengers, the boat listed heavily in the swell. The last time I had been in a boat this crowded, it almost sank off the coast of Zanzibar. That didn’t worry sailor-boy who lay with his hat pulled over his eyes, already half-asleep.
“Don’t worry, this is normal,” he drawled. “Trust me, I’ve crossed oceans. If I panic, panic.”
There was a moment’s silence as the boat bounced off a particularly large wave.
“Also there’s lots of boats around here. Easy Mayday.”
“Yeah,” I said. “If you have the means to signal Mayday.”
“Sure, they do. They all have shortwave radio.”
Dream on, sailor-boy.
But I kept my worries to myself. At least back in the day we didn’t have mobile phones, just a whistle that was useless in the stiff breeze. I wondered what the reception was like out here. I wondered if the marine had a satellite phone.
My problem was that I’d had the squits all day and my stomach was decidedly delicate. While the others bedded down, I sat and stared at the swaying lights of the night fishing boats all around us. How embarrassing to be the only one on board to be potentially seasick (apart from the toddler who’d thrown up earlier, into a plastic bag).
Every time the boat caught another swell, sailor-boy (who had given up pretending to sleep) regalled us with another mini-lecture about seamanship. Now it was my turn.
“If you’re feeling sick, keep looking at the horizon. It’s the most stable point.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, rubbing at a kink in my neck from keeping my head turned towards the window for the last half hour or so. Only eight more to go.
It got worse when people fell asleep. Still unable to lie down, I conceded my space and found myself squeezed like toothpaste out of a tube by sailor-boy on my right and the convention of fatties on my left.
Somehow I managed to lie down uncomfortably on my side and got 90 minutes of doze with people constantly prodding, tickling or stomping on my feet. Eventually I had enough and resigned myself to spend the rest of the journey upright. I had lost the battle against the bulge. I’m no lightweight, but the woman who now lay flat on her stomach next to me, snoring, not only occupied my entire former berth but oozed across numbers 38 and 40 to either side.
At least our arrival time went town from six a.m. (as the agent had told me) to five and now to four as the lights came back on. Maybe the swell had pushed us along.
We were in port.
I gave the touts the slip, regretted it briefly when confronted with Thai-only signs, but managed to stumble across the night market which gave me back my bearings.
Everything was closed.
It was ninety minutes until daybreak.
Tags: SE Asia, Travel, Whale watching, Tag Index
Denni