FLASHBACK #1: How it all started - let's go back four years!

It all started more than four years ago, closer to five now. With a history of profound deafness, my hearing was restored in my left ear with what is often called a bionic ear. To cut a very long story short, within either months I had applied for a transfer to work in Tampere, Finland's second largest city. I was working for a Finnish company in the UK and, with newly acquired abilities as a result of my implantation, I decided to give working abroad ago within the security of my current firm.

Tuesday, October 30th, 2001, came and, having loaded my car to the hilt and after a tearful family farewell, I made my way to Tilbury Docks. I remember thinking 'god, what have I done?', but I consoled myself by reminding myself that it was part of the agreement with the Company that if I didn't want to stay in Finland, I could return. I also reminded myself that it was something I had to do. At 24 years of age and despite the barriers, I had achieved quite much. However, it was always the way that, in order to get something done or see something come to fruition, I had to put ten times more effort in. Over the years, therefore, I've always wanted to do better.

At 24, with the ability to hear clearly for the first time ever and the support of my employer, it was now or never; I would be stupid not to take this opportunity, I told myself. As I arrived in Tilbury, I drove my car onto the huge cargo ship. Rather than part with the car and or take a commercial sailing that would mean driving all the way from one side of Sweden to the other, I opted to endure a three day trip on a cargo ship with a Polish crew. It was a cost-saving thing, really, because the trip wasn't going to cost me anything.

As the ship left the dock, it was starting to get dark and, at sea, fireworks lit up the coastline on what seemed a premature Bonfire Night. It was then, as the signal died on my mobile phone (and realising that I was the only passenger on board who could speak English), that I felt alone. After all the preparations, leaving work, parting with my family, getting onto the ship was the first moment of silence in weeks. And it was awful.

The fireworks faded into the distance and the ship headed North East. I went down to my cabin, deep inside the winding hallways of the craft - it was a small room with two bunkbeds. Quite gloomy with no porthole, I made an effort to spend as little time as possible in the cabin. Looking back, I don't quite know what I did during the trip, but after waking up the next morning, I recall making my way to the kitchen and feasting on Nutella chocolate spread sandwiches! I rarely saw the crew and, when I did, they seemed like a jolly social crowd.

The sunlight blinded me as I headed out onto the deck. All around, there was nothing, except water and an occasional tanker on the horizon, heading towards the Continent just like we were. I was joined on the deck by one of the crew. He was Polish and spoke in broken English. He was the Captain of the ship and asked me to join him on the Bridge for a chat. I was relieved that someone had come along to rid me of my boredom. The Bridge was spotlessly clean, it's many dashes featuring countless complicated looking gadgets. I can't remember the Captain's name, but I remember him telling me how much he missed his young son. He was at sea six months of the year, he explained, and his son was nearly two years old. What a job, I thought! He showed me a photo of his son, ever so much the proud father.

I could see land in the distance and the Captain explained that were going to travel through the Kiel Canal of Germany later in the day. With each half an hour, the land got closer and closer and, in the late afternoon, we were making our way through the narrow canal. Locals sat on the nearby banks, waving at me, the lone passenger on this huge vessel. I felt like a sad twat, but I happily waved back.

I returned to my cabin. Whether I slept or read for a while, I do not know, but I woke up to the smell of food. I supposed that it was dinner time and I made my way to the kitchen to see if I could join in. In the compact eating area, a tired-looking man in his 50's beckoned me to join him. He spoke English, but explained that he was German and that he was a new crew member who jumped onboard while we were in the Kiel Canal. We chatted casually while we ate. After dinner, he returned to work and I enjoyed the last of the sunshine on deck as the vessel headed towards the Baltic Sea, north of Poland.

The night was a choppy one at sea. It wasn't until I arrived in Finland that my new boss would tell me how worried he was that I had been at sea during the worst Baltic Sea storm in 10 years. It was then that I understood WHY my head, then my feet, then my head, then my feet continuously felt knocking the walls at either end of my bunk. During the night, I had felt nauseous. I was rather surprised that you feel the swells on such a huge vessel.

The next morning, I rose feeling rather groggy due to the lack of sleep. It was quite late so I helped myself to another Nutella sandwich. In the afternoon, I climbed the many steps that led to the Bridge, aiming to bid Good Morning to the Captain. He welcomed me in and I observed him looking over some maps with some complicated devices. He pointed to the left of the vessel, indicating North. There was a long island there, he said, called Gotland. Mishearing him, I thought he said Scotland and explained that we left that behind a long time ago. He got the map and told me it was a long island, bearly visible from this angle because Sweden was nestled just behind it. It was then that I realised that, having made this move, there was going to be new things to learn every day.

The day went by very quickly and the Captain said we would arrived about 8am the next morning so I should be up early and be prepared to disembark. Overnight, the sailing was rather calm, until I was woken up by such an overwhelming set of vibrations. Apparently, the boat was slowing down and docking, using it's propellors to position itself in its berth at Hanko.

It was 6am, completely dark, the dock seemingly devoid of any human activity. By 7am, I was in my car and told myself to stay on the right! As I pulled out of the vessel, the Captain waved goodbye and I nodded. I passed the small shed that represented the local customs office. I was on Finnish soil, heading torwards my new home in Tampere.