The solitary-induced necessity of social mesh

I was not alone on the ship. Roughly a hundred passengers joined the team, crew and staff of M/V Plancius and Oceanwide expeditions. And clearly some degree of social mingling was expected, and saluted. For privacy reasons some or all of the names mentioned may have been altered.
The cabin was probably originally built for three. Yet four full-grown men crammed themselves and their luggage (including one set of diving gear) into the home for the next eleven days: An international quartet consisting of Rudolph from the Netherlands, Roger of Canada, Richmond from South Africa and me, Martin, from Sweden.
Soon enough people sort of gravitated towards smaller groups. Obviously, the Chinese kept to themselves (and despite the three daily meals prepared and delivered by our excellent 'hotel' staff more often than not had their own pot noodles and rice-for-brekkies), the divers had their own clique, the Dutch grouped together, as did the French, and so on. Us in the less defined sections spread out, and amongst the most frequently dined and conversed with, apart from roomies Roger and Richmond, were a quartet of young ladies from New York, Swiss miss Sabine, Kiwi Bellatrix, King Edward of Andorra, Melanie from UK and Orlock from Romania. In the bar hang, quite frequently, Desmond from the American east coast and Ryan from its west, and a sort of unofficial bar tab contest started amongst us.
So yes, the Antarctic cruise wasn't all wilderness and penguin poo. At one point we even encountered what, under the circumstances, could be considered civilisation: An on-and-off operating British research station called Port Lockroy. After the natural harbour had been used as a whaling base in the early 1900:s, the British took over in the 40's, where they studied wildlife, meteorology, the ionosphere, tides.... normal stuff. Nowadays some of the research continues, but is mostly focused on biology and if and how eco-tourism affects it. As it seems, the penguins really don't seem to care if the odd human turn up every now and then, which is a good thing. The main reason for keeping the place staffed is its function as a museum, a gift shop and a post office. As all proceedings go to the UK Antarctic heritage fund for preserving wildlife, I didn't feel bad for spending a few pounds on a USB-stick in the shape of a penguin, a hedy (definately not a buff, that would be copyright infringment) and sending a few postcards.
Cruises don't necessarily have sun chairs, limbo tournaments and shuffleboard, but all cruises worth their salt would have at least one barbecue. A variety of grilled meats, baked potatoes and corncobs were served on the aft-deck, cleverly drowned with glühwein and classic alpine after ski music, including, but not limited to, Abba, the Chicken Dance and 50's rock'n'roll. The party lasted well into the small hours of the night. Or at least an hour or so, before it kind of got to chilly to be outside in party get-up.
Every day three meals were served, and on the open sea the dining could be a wee bit unpredictable, as the chairs, plates and glasses not necessarily stayed put. Needles to say, fancy-schmancy wine glasses with high legs were put aside during the Drake Shake, in favour of sturdier thick-bottomed numbers. Apart from the obvious beer and occasional wine, the beverage of choice was often hot cocoa. Sometimes plain, sometimes with rum, kahlua or bailey's. All of which, of course can be found pretty much all over the world. A drink that few people will ever enjoy, but that I did, is a Pernod with just one piece of ice. Thousands-year-old Antarctic freshwater ice, that is.
As we, after long days and nights at sea, disembarked in Ushuaia, or little group became ever smaller. A last few drops of coffee with Ryan, Roger and the New Yorkers, and off to the airport we went. Quite a few familiar faces were on the afternoon flight to Buenos Aires, but eventually all roads that once crossed must split, and so it was goodbye to Melanie, Richmond, Sabine and Desmond as they took their leave for the Argentinian capitol and I for the Bolivian.
And the bar tab contest? That I won.
To summarize: I met some awesome people and sent a postcard from Antarctica to my mum.
Fun factoid: Port Lockroy has the southernmost post office in the world. As such, post sent from there takes the longest to reach the North Pole, and the local kids must write their letters to Father Christmas as early as mid-may to be sure to get what they want for christmas.
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