You know this is not your typical cruise when the alarm clock rings at 6 am and you dress up in old sweat pants and a raggedy T-shirt for breakfast…

We had signed up for working passage on a German-owned freighter, which was registered in Liberia and had an all-Burmese crew along with two Polish deck fitters.

We had spent months traveling overland from Europe to South Africa in our Land Rover, and now it was time to return. But we didn’t want to simply put our Land Rover in a container and buy airline tickets for us. Instead, we wanted to take the waterways back home ourselves.

This, however, was easier said than done, because many shipping companies refuse to take passengers these days. Sure, they have plenty of empty cabins in this age of computers and automation, but they are afraid of lawsuits and sky-rocketing insurance premiums. It took two weeks of making phone calls up and down the Yellow Pages to eventually find a shipping company that would accept us.

The "Green Cape" freighter ship cruises the waterways.

Now, our car was safely tucked away in a blue container that we could actually see from our scuttle window sitting on the bow of the ship. We were assigned the pilot’s cabin. When a cargo ship needs to sail through difficult waters with dangerous reefs and treacherous sand banks, the captain takes local navigational specialists on board to guide the vessel through. Sometimes that can take a day or two. Hence the need for a special cabin reserved just for the pilot.

But the pilot was not needed now, so we had been assigned the pilot’s quarters. They were simple and quite narrow with a queen-sized bed, a small wooden table, a chair and a tiny bathroom. But it offered a fantastic sea view! A fresh salty breeze blew through the open window, billowing the white drapes, as we readied for our first day as ordinary seamen on the multi-purpose vessel “Green Cape.”

It is about 6,200 nautical miles from Cape Town to Rotterdam. Our final destination was the Netherlands ― a voyage that would take 16 days. Apart from having to work five days a week and half-a-day on Saturdays, we also had to pay US$ 10 per day each for food.

As we entered the crew mess, the cook asked us if we wanted to eat “European-style” like the two Polish sailors. Not wanting to be regarded as picky, we boldly opted for Burmese cuisine, a decision we dearly regretted after a couple of days. We are not particular about food, but this unique mix of fishy meat dishes and meaty fish dishes with sticky rice was hard to get used to. The chocolate toffees from the duty free shop on board saved us. And there was always toast and marmalade for breakfast.

Curious looks from the crew quickly turned into big smiles when we asked what we could do to help. My husband, Hans, was assigned to rust chipping, painting and sweeping.

I was put under supervision of the steward. Women were not allowed to work on deck, he explained to me in broken English ― “many dangerous” ― and handed me a cleaning rag, which was going to be my tool for the next two weeks. He assigned me the job of scrubbing the staircase walls. But the artificial neon light, no windows and the rolling of the ship was a bit too much for the first day.