#girlswhotravel #lifegoals
Recently dumped and going nowhere, Jennie Jamieson decides it's finally time to listen to all those inspirational Instagram hashtags and do something with her life.
A visit to Antarctica has always been on her bucket list...
I spent a lot of time on that boat thinking about Paulo. That maybe sounds pathetic, like I'm fixated on having a boyfriend, but it's true. He wasn't the only thing I thought about, but I thought about him a lot.
And I had a lot of time to think. The stinking boat journey took eleven days. When I signed up for a month in Antarctica, I hadn't expected that; to be on the ice for a week at most, and spend the other 20 days hermetically sealed into the hull of a cruiseliner, swaddled with anxiety and 40 other people who weren't interested in me at all.
Disappointing.
Not that I made the crossing back. But even if I had, I still think we were cheated. Though I doubt the others would have complained, not after...
Well. I've gone too far again. Back to the boat.
I spent my time aboard the Cleaver moping about, trying to avoid Suzie and her unpredictable moods, over-analysing Paulo's Facebook message.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Promise me.
He'd said that twice. Wasn't that kind of...intense?
It seemed a weird thing to say. But maybe he was weird. I hadn't seen him for, what? Seven years? I hadn't known him that well seven years ago either, just teacher-student stuff. The type of homework he set. That he always looked pensive when he asked the class a question, like no-one would answer and that would mean his devastating failure. That killed me, it really did. I put my hand up every time, like a total keeno.
So, yeah, I knew nothing about Paulo. That didn't stop me building city-scapes of fantasy around his Facebook message on that boat.
Other than that, I didn't do much. Avoided the others, hate-and-envy-stalked them on the patchy WiFi.
I'm not proud of that, but don't pretend you haven't done it too.
We had an induction session shortly after we left Buenos Aires. That was the first time I saw everyone on the trip altogether, all in once place.
We gathered in the dining hall, all milling around importantly, bleating like sheep. The sea was smooth as greased butter that day, and the crowd—a roughly equal mix of male and female, all young, all naturally beautiful, all unnaturally self-assured—were dead cool, introducing themselves loudly, looking over each others' shoulders.
I felt about one foot tall. I was still nauseous and disorientated from the flight, inexplicably sweaty. Anyone I got jostled into talking to was polite and false, immediately trying to get away when I didn't charm them, or say something interesting about GlobalGreen.
I was relieved when someone banged a gong (yes, an actual Tibetan gong) and ended the agonising socialising. It was a girl with Palm-Beach blonde hair, early twenties, a blue Intrepid: Go Everywhere! t-shirt knotted over tan, washboard abs.
