I’ve been home for over a month now. Veterans on the ship used to talk with disgust about the shock of returning home from a contract. Musicians talked about the lack of gigs at home, we all talked with spite about the weather at home.
The weather here at home is terrible. Yesterday a cold rain dripped through the trees and this morning we found the same rain turned to ice, clinging to every surface. There’s no talk of outdoor activities, nor will there be until at least April or May (and not definitely until June).
Gigs are sporatic and low-paying. It’s difficult to make a living as a musician, nobody can dispute that. Pianos are out-of-tune, keyboards are heavy, and more often than not those same keyboards that have replaced the out-of-tune pianos sound as much like a piano as a bird sounds like a bear.
Life is, clearly, not nearly as easy as it was on the ship.
But life is more full and satisfying on land. Relationships are deeper, space is abundant, daily activities are now priviledges. I get to see my cousin’s kids grow up, and I get to play cards with my Grandma and her friends on Fridays. My friend Rick comes over and we play jazz just for ourselves, because it’s fun. Scheduling is difficult, and finding a real job is worse. People’s lives are complicated, and life is a worthy challenge.
I’m happy to be back to a challenging life, although I must admit that I’ve so far been unable to completely shake off the lethargy that I laid in for so long on the ship. Having spent 6 months trying to quiet my stirring mind, I’ve so far found it a little difficult to turn it back around. I’ve brought contentment and serenity back with me, only to find that neither has any place in this life.
Altogether, it is indeed a transition to come back to land. Although I’d never go so far as to say that ship life involved any sort of deprivation, it is certainly – even after a month – a relief to once again be a participant in a challenging life and to again have all the specific priviledges of such.
We used to hear on the ship that it took at least 6 months to re-adjust to life on land, regardless of how long you’d been on. The idea, I think, was to securely chain yourself to something on land for at least six months, let the withdrawal symptoms fade, and then – under the supervision of trustworthy friends – slowly unchain yourself. I know now exactly what they are talking about, but I probably came home with fewer withdrawal symptoms than most, considering my disgust with the company I worked for and the boredom I found later in the contract.
I think I’ll stick around.
David J. Hahn
David J. Hahn is a Broadway conductor and keyboard player. He co-founded MusicianWages.com with Cameron Mizell in 2008. Visit his new project, Songwriter.fm and sign up for his songwriting newsletter.
[...] by Dave March 26, 2008 I wanted to respond to a comment I received a few months ago on the Adjusting to Land After a Cruise Job post. My apologies to Michael for taking so long to get back to him. This is the comment: Dave, [...]
Great blog. About the food for crew and staff, I need to know what’s so bad about it? Would I be able to maintain my health eating salads and desserts? What’s on the menus. There’s got to be some good stuff. Steak? Thanks.
Colina Phillps,
You could possibly maintain a healthy diet, it all depends on the ship you are on and if you like salad without dressing. When I was out there as a musician, we had “staff” status, meaning we could eat at the cafe which was open until 2 in the morning and served all sorts of food. They had steaks, chicken, prime rib, potatoes, sushi, pizza, sweet and sour pork, rice, soup, and plenty of nasty desserts. The only thing about the salads is that the dressings that they had were terrible after about a week. So take your own dressing in a bottle, if you can sneak it past the guards…
I’ve been of the ship about two months now, and I know what you mean by lethargy. It’s such a relaxed life on the ship and when you get back on land you have to make everything happen for yourself.
I miss the beach and the breeze and the sound of the water, but that’s about it.
I definitely do not miss the bad living conditions, lack of smoke-free socializing areas, horrible crew food (impossible to maintain a proper vegan diet on a ship, by the way…impossible), or authoritarian personalities (who tend to pick on the entertainment departments out of spite, in my experience).
Most of all, I don’t miss the general sense of mediocrity.
It was cool to see so many awesome places, but I feel like life’s too short to twiddle your thumbs for very long. The ship always seemed to me like a boring safety net that had a few amazing benefits, but more costs overall.
However, I would say that it’s great for someone who doesn’t necessarily want to build a career per se, or someone who is transitioning and/or doesn’t know what to do next, as long as you’re willing to make some serious sacrifices in your comfort and freedom.
The timing is perfect for me to find this site. Thanks David. MJ I agree….Been thru 3 years of playing/singing on ships. It`s now just a job with few benefits. Income over outgoings the good part. Now I am used to the daily grind. That is, the long lonely days punctuated by being on stage, which is when the lights come on for me. I am able to support my 2 daughters thru university. Thats the other main good point.
But it`s so hard to live with the petty complaints that come from some regular crew. Like being jealous of the fact that I can use all the facilities as a guest ent. Once you can use them you find you dont need to! But I have done crew and I nearly jumped overboard.
If I was still in my 20`s I might cope with being in the crew. Poor food quality, drills, authoritarian legalists etc. (It`s ship and so it has to be run with precision I know but…) Anyway we are all supposed to be a team, right? Mmm. I have been self employed most of my life apart from a spell in the Royal Marines which in fact was better. The military are much fairer than cruise ship crew. Anyway I am home in UK now on a 6 week gap between contracts and can see how paranoid I get at sea. After divorcing 4 years ago and being very depressed, sea life provided an easy life. Everything being done for me. But over drinking is easy at sea. Nothing to do during the very long days, that is unless you like going ashore and sitting on a beach or going round the Hermitage in St Petersburg yet again, looking at miserable people. OMG will I start to miss cruising soon?
The food as a guest ent is good. But 3 months of rich cuisine? And the formality of the dressing up, just to eat!
Hey there is the casual dining option but repeating menu`s! I sometimes do go ashore just for a big mac!
I spent many years thinking about cruising for a living one day. Now I do realise the freedoms we take for granted ashore. Its the money issue thats all.
“There’s something about a mass-market Luxury Cruise that’s unbearably sad. Like most unbear- ably sad things, it seems incredibly elusive and complex in its causes yet simple in its effect: on board the Nadir (especially at night, when all the ship’s structured fun and reassurances and gaiety ceased) I felt despair. The word “despair” is overused and banalized now, but it’s a serious word, and I’m using it seriously. It’s close to what people call dread or angst, but it’s not these things, quite. It’s more like wanting to die in order to escape the unbearable sadness of knowing I’m small and weak and selfish and going, without doubt, to die. It’s wanting to jump overboard.”
http://harpers.org/archive/1996/01/0007859