Boxes

I awoke early to the warm orange glow of the rising sun casting its early morning light over the sea.

In the distance a huge monstrosity of luxury high-rise flats floating on the sea came into view as the Royal Caribbean cruise ship Symphony of the Seas made its way towards port.

Ropes thick as my thigh were thrown from high on the deck. Men scurried around on the dockside below and large plumes of black silt churned up from the sea floor in the harbour as the massive ship manoeuvred onto its berth.

The sun, now slightly above the horizon probed through the windows and curtains of the luxury cabins on the starboard side of the ship. Wealthy holiday makers who could afford such luxuries began to wake and watch the sunrise from their balcony cabins.

Most of these people probably own homes in affluent areas and drive Mercedes SUVs or Porsches to work as hedge fund managers or dentists. For two weeks they have chosen to exchange their salubrious but predictable workaday lives for a tiny box with a balcony in a floating hotel, sailing from port to port in the Med.

Still, not a bad way to live for a fortnight if one can afford such indulgences.

Some engage in polite conversation with their significant other. Some lean on the safety rail and smoke, others just watch the day wake up. One man exits his room onto the balcony, wearing only his boxers, gut hanging over the waistband and stares off into the distance. Classy! Being wealthy doesn't automatically afford dignity, it seems. Culture is the curse of the thinking class and not necessarily the upper class.

From my vantage point I aim my camera at them all and freeze the moment forever and, after taking my shots, retreat.