The Ferry Ride from Hell

Greetings from Dubrovnik, Croatia!

I know I still owe you a proper entry about Italy, and intend to do so as soon as I have a few minutes. However, right now I want to tell you about our lovely little day of travel yesterday. Also, just a little side note, these hilarious Croatians thought it would be a funny game to play on unsuspecting tourists to switch the "z" and the "y" on the keyboard. I will try my best to adjust, but please excuse any mistakes. Thank zou☺

We left Positano yesterday morning on a wonderful ferry that took us along the Amulfi Coast and landed us in Solerno, which is just north of Sicily. From there, we caught a two-hour train to another small town (of course I cant remember the name...must remember to use my journal!). From there we took a three-hour Eurostar train to Bari where we would catch our overnight ferry to Croatia. Needless to say, it was already a long day.

When we arrived in Bari it was windy and rainy, as we headed to the port to buy our ferry tickets. We had been weighing between actually getting a cabin for the nine-hour overnight ride to Dubrovnik or just toughing it out on deck, hoping we could find a bench or a worthy area of the floor to sleep on. Seeing as the cabins were extremely expensive and I was still trying to prove to Dave (and myself) that I was the tough backing girl I strove to be, we decided to go for the deck passes. We figured we had arrived in Bari early enough to be one of the first on board the ship, and would surely be able to secure a good spot for the night. Even better, we had met a group of young British backpackers at the port who kindly offered us their sleeping bags as they had splurged for a cabin. We were so excited about our good fortune thus far, we hadn’t even noticed that the weather was beginning to really pick up. We barely even blinked at the fact that the “ship” we were about to board was not a ship at all, but more like a rundown version of the Staten Island ferry. However, instead of crossing the Hudson River, this vessel was supposed to carry us across the Adriatic Sea. Still, we didn’t think twice. We merrily climbed the ramp up into the side of the boat with our backpacks and newly acquired sleeping bags in tow.

We boarded the ferry at 8:30 PM and everything was going perfectly according to plan. Dave had found a common room on the boat where there were booths with soft, couch-like benches and tables. At this point, we did begin to notice that the boat was perhaps a bit more run down than the nice ferries we took in Greece, but it was nothing to write home about (or so I thought). The boat was not scheduled to disembark until 10 PM, so we figured we had plenty of time to have a drink, relax, and settle in before curling up with our cozy sleeping bags for a restful eight hours of sleep.

After about an hour, things started to turn a bit. Our peaceful sleeping cove was slowly but surely becoming the amusement park for every passenger on the boat. The majority of them appeared to be Croatian or of some other Eastern European descent, and all somehow seemed to be related to one another. Perhaps they were on their way home from a family reunion in Bari, although I am not sure who they would be reuniting with as it seemed that anyone they could have possibly been related to was already on that boat. In any case, they were loud, obnoxious, and extremely smelly. As was the yippy little family dog who was also along for the reunion and nearly ripped the hands off of every person that walked by. Still, at this point in the early evening, it was all actually quite amusing.

Then the boat began to move. Within fifteen minutes we knew this was going to be a rough ride. Drinks were spilling and people were falling over in their chairs as the wind and rain continued to pick up. The members of the family reunion seemed to be extremely amused by the apparent carnival ride they thought we were on. The harder the boat rocked, the louder they got. Still, I was rather amused. Then the sea sickness set in. Not me. Everyone else. Almost every singly person in that room (and all over the boat), one by one, began to lose their stomachs, and lost them everywhere. Some into garbage cans, some into seasickness bags, but most, unfortunately, went right onto the floor. I had never seen (or smelled) anything like it.

You also have to realize that, at this point, the weather was so rough outside that there was no option to even stick your head out the door for some air. The wind was so strong that the doors wouldn’t even open. Your only option for air was to stick your head out the little round window above the toilet in the bathroom. That is if you were willing to stand over, or in some cases on, someone throwing up into the toilet. I’m telling you it was madness.

It was at about this point that Dave, too, started to look rather green. He decided to go downstairs to see if we could still book a cabin and try to escape the episode of Twilight Zone we had found ourselves in. When he returned, having obviously gotten sick, he was stark white and soaked with sweat. He informed me that he had booked a room and that he needed to go there…NOW! I told him to go ahead without me, that I would take care of our luggage which was in the storage room, and that I would have the ship attendant show me to the room in a few minutes.

Looking back, we didn’t really need our luggage, nor was it worth the near-death experience I had in that storage room. Not only did the sliding door that opened the luggage room slide back and close onto my hand, but I was nearly taken out by several suitcases that were thrown from their shelves. Somehow I managed to find our packs, throw both of them on my back, and mak it out with only a few scratches and bruises.

I then went to find the woman who was supposed to show me to our room. She also happened to be the only employee on the boat other than the Captain and the bartender, who could have been the same person. I’m still not sure. In any case, when I finally found this woman, she was in the reception area gripping her desk for dear life and crossing herself repeatedly. I asked her if she was alright and if it was usually this rough, to which she replied, “No! It never this rough! Not like this!” Then I asked her if it was dangerous, to which she replied, “Dangerous? I not know what this mean.” So I made a sign with my hands of a boat going under water, to which she replied, “I just want to make it home tomorrow.” I told her she may not want to say that to anyone else and asked her to please show me to my room. So we both made our way down the skinny corridor, gripping the walls for dear life as not to fall over.

When I finally reached the tiny room, I found Dave coming out of the little bathroom and looking even worse. He couldn’t even say a word to me. He simply swayed his way over to the bottom bunk bed and curled up onto its mattress. He was soaked to the bone and shivering. At that point, I was about ready to lose it, but still managed to stay focused on helping Dave. I plopped on the floor, dug through his bag, got out some dry clothes, and got him changed. Somehow, he then managed to roll over and go to sleep. It was at that moment I did lose it. All of my fear finally caught up with me and I sat there crying on the floor of that tiny little cabin as the boat continued to slam into the tumultuous water.

The only thing that matched my fear, was my exhaustion. I considered just sleeping right there on the floor as it felt much more grounded, but I figured I would at least try to get some sleep and crawled up into the top bunk. Now, to give you an idea of how rough it was, I literally had to hang onto the ends of the mattress for dear life, as not to be thrown off of the top bunk. There was also a little window in the room, out of which I could see the waves crashing over the top of the boat. The noises were almost more scary than the sights. The boat would creek and screech as it rode up the face of each wave, and then let out a mighty roar as it came crashing down on the other side. It was truly terrifying.

This is how the next four hours went, until Dave woke up and must have heard me whimpering on the top bunk. He told me to climb down and sleep with him in the lower bunk. This was something I wanted to do hours earlier, but didn’t want to wake him since he had been so sick. I made my way down the ladder and curled up next to him. The waters had still not calmed, but I have to say I suddenly felt safe. Finally, I nodded off to sleep and when I awoke we were smoothly sailing along towards the Dalmatian Coast which was now in sight. We were almost there.

We gathered our things and headed out to finally disembark from the vessel of death we had been trapped on all night. We walked out into the hallway and joined the hoards of other people who had obviously also had the night from hell. Everyone was disheveled and green-looking, and still had a slightly terrified flash in their eyes. Nobody really said anything. There wasn't much to be said. Shared looks and nods were all that was needed.

When we finally touched our feet onto the solid shore, some people actually got down on their knees and kissed the ground. We made it. I still don't know how I managed not to get sick. Maybe I was too busy being scared shitless to bother with nausea. In any case, I think I earned at least a few tough backpacker points last night.

We now find ourselves safely in Dubrovnik which seems to be absolutely beautiful (even from just our short walk down to Old Town to get breakfast). We are going to head back to our little guest room now and try to sleep off this feeling that we are still on the boat. The computer screen is literally swaying in front of me.

The moral of the story is, if you are going to cross the Adriatic…fly.

Okay, off for a nap and then some exploring. I will write again when I can.