Slow boat to Russia

Somebody leads me down to my cabin in the depths of the ship, where two young Japanese men are already getting settled in. One of them, Takeshi, is deep in the study of the documents sent to him by his travel agent. A look of relief comes over his face as I speak to him in Japanese. The other, a cheery little fellow with a shaved head and spindly arms, is determined to speak to me in his poor English. We chat for a while, but I figure that I'll be spending plenty of time in this cabin with them, and head up into the daylight. As I make my way upstairs, two young couples are coming down. I smile and nod.

"Malcolm?" one of them asks, in an Australian accent. I do a double take, wondering if we know each other from somewhere, but I can't place the faces. Obviously amused by the puzzled look on my face, the girl who'd asked explains that they'd seen the passenger list, which contained only one Anglo name other than their own. They're Kate and Steve, Caz and Geoff, they're from Perth, and they're on their way to working holidays in Ireland. We chat briefly, and move on.