Seeing blue
Ayear ago, there was a film that encouraged the heartbroken to head up a mountain and scream their problems toward a sea of clouds. I, being heartbroken myself, beg to differ. There are many ways to mend a broken heart. Recently, I discovered that rocking on a boundless ocean could be just as cathartic as yelling at the sky.
Alongside a handful of media, Star Cruises invited me on board the Superstar Aquarius for an experience and an adventure of a lifetime. Little did I know that this adventure involved staring out a picture window on the first day of the cruise, slowly watching the land disappear while fighting back tears over having my heart torn in two by a boy I liked.
The Superstar Aquarius was a three-day, two-night cruise that started in Keelung Taiwan, continuing all the way to Okinawa Japan in the islands of Miyakojima and Naha, and then back. While on the journey to find land, the ship becomes one big playground. Each of the 12 decks has something different to offer — restaurants, luxury shops, a casino, an entertainment center, the spa, a gym, game rooms, a karaoke area, a swimming pool; all are yours to enjoy. I was expecting the grumpy lonely woman in me to come out but she never did.
For both nights on the cruise, I found myself laughing inside the entertainment lounge that showcased their in-house shows — Odyssey (a family-oriented show), and
Rendezvous (a late night burlesque show) — with a room-full of Chinese families. I was lost in translation, but it didn’t matter. An air of camaraderie welcomed me in. Nightcaps came in the form of singing unapologetically at the karaoke bar with a group of strangers-turned-friends, and dinners
meant synchronizing your body with the rhythm of the sea. To get through it all meant saying goodbye to calculated decisions, shyness and irrational fears — it meant letting loose. I can even say that it also meant breaking away.
They say being surrounded by water, even just seeing the color blue, makes you calmer, a calmness that you’ll never get when you’re sitting on the shore watching the waves crash on the sand. No one ever talks about the feeling of isolation when you see nothing else but the sea, the sky, and different shades of blue. With this isolation comes the strength to face what must be faced, and having an in-depth look at yourself, stripped down to the very core. Looking out and seeing a blue horizon is an invitation to tread into the unknown, at the same time discovering things that needed to be discovered.
But the best part always came in the morning, when docking was in order, and the sound of the engine starts getting more recognizable. You stand on foreign soil, without the slightest clue of what you’ll find and then it all just falls into place. Our first stop was a day tour in Miyakojima, Japan’s farmers island. At the port, we were greeted by Max, a Japanese senior who looked like he just stepped out of an animé, complete with his red vest and loose white polo. Max allowed us to act like locals to see what the island had to offer. Provincial Japan is a complete turnaround from modern Japan — the colors are more subdued and more tropical. It’s slower, and there are no Shinkansens in sight. We saw a German Culture village called Ueno that had a themed replica of the Marksburg castle in the island, which is a testament to how friendly and eccentric the Japanese are. The island of Naha the next day was a dream. Max was no longer the guide and instead we had A-chan, a much younger guide complete with his Hawaiian shirt, fitting to the whole feel of Naha. There we saw an island bustling with activity, and ice cream parlors that felt a little too Western. A walk down the famous Kokusai Street was similar to walking down Hollywood boulevard, minus the busloads of tourists and oversaturated tourist traps. Within just two days, I have seen some of Japan’s well kept secret: they have beautiful beaches that can compete with some of ours. The Maehama beach in Miyakojima, and Manzamou cliff in Naha are all top contenders.
On a cruise, you assume that guests are all seniors, enjoying their retirement. That’s true, and then you find yourself on the sun deck, twirling in the sunset alone, thinking to yourself, “Why isn’t anyone else dancing there with you? People need to feel this.” Every moment on the deck, and walking through open-air pathways allowed the sea breeze to envelop me. That hint of fresh air is enough to make anyone feel clean, both figuratively and literally. Every step down from the ship and onto land was a mark of a new beginning, and then in the very end, I had to ask, “I was heartbroken?”