The wind is blowing fiercely. Our ferry heads directly towards a sheer cliff. It looks as if we are going to smash into the giant cliff face. Then I notice a narrow line of buildings huddled together at the base of the cliff. This lonely group of buildings and narrow road does not seem large enough to receive the avalanche of human bodies and cargo that is about to erupt from the interior of our ferry. I stand with my husband, my son and my daughter in the bowels of the ferry waiting to disembark. The sea is rough and we wait for the ferry to steady. Finally, the giant ramp begins to slowly lower. As the giant ramp lowers, a digital version of Fur Elise plays eerily over and over again, a strange accompaniment to the methodical, mechanical descent of the back flap of the boat. As the ever widening patch of light and the howl of the wind entering the dark interior of the ferry, the light melody repeats as if we are trapped in a giant music box.