Ferry
My fourth ferry trip in as many months.
This time, I’m on the ferry early and find a table with a view out the window. The seat is broken, and I need to constantly push to stop sliding out.
No complaints.
I find myself sitting next to travellers and learning much about their lives. In such close confines, you can’t help but overhear, and it gets intense in a hurry.
One woman is from Switzerland and she explains the benefits. Jobs and accommodation are easy, but it’s boring.
She likes working in finance and derivatives and such. She works for a while and then travels.
It’s her second trip to New Zealand, and she’s also spent extended periods in Scandinavia, North America, and other places.
Very attractive.
The other woman is Argentinian and a free spirit. She doesn’t like to stay long anywhere and works in low-paid hospitality gigs. She has acquired a work visa for New Zealand and is heading south for a job.
They both speak English fluently, as it’s the only common language of the seven between them. One is 31, and the other is a year older.
Both recently dumped long-term, but long-distance relationships. Any new bloke is not high on their priority list.
They don’t really know each other, just met on the ferry, it appears, and each has their own transportation.
They show each other pictures on their phones of their old partners and laugh.
Other than their high expectations and probably more money, it’s not dissimilar to my own solo travelling decades before.
Making the most of a chance meeting with a stranger to resolve issues within their own lives. Even do some workshop because they appear to listen to each other.