Fortunately, all of our drearier weather occurred when we had sea days with no port call. When faced with this, we turned to the ship’s facilities and entertainment. I’d like to say that we made good use of the excellent gym that they offered, but alas, I can’t. Didn’t set foot in the place the entire journey. A lot of other folks did, however, and we heard complaints that it was too crowded at times. The running machines all faced out the huge windows that overlooked the bow, so the joggers got a panoramic view of the horizon in front of the ship. We also didn’t indulge, for no good reason, in the hot tubs and jet pool, which were under a greenhouse roof to keep things warm and steamy. There were plenty of deck chairs, both inside and out, and even a special nook for the hard-core smokers, a gimlet-eyed bunch if I ever saw one. That area just reeked of smoke whenever we walked by. Sad, with all that great fresh air, to be sucking the poisons in.
On the top deck, there was a great lounge with picture windows all around. At night, they would have singers or instrumental combos play here.
They kept the theatre filled with talks by hired experts as well as the ship’s crew. One day they had a cookoff between two of the sous-chefs, “aided” by 2 members of the audience, and MC’d by the Master Chef who rose from below stage in a cloud of smoke. The finished dishes were danced (note chef in lower left pic) to three judges also plucked from the audience who got to sample everything. One of them, a woman who practically screamed to be selected (the closest one in the lower right pic), of course turned out to be the biggest dud and couldn’t articulate any coherent opinion, but rather wanted to talk about herself.
It was good fun, with the losing chef getting “demoted” to scullery duty.
Evening entertainment, once they got the uber-amplification problem resolved, was pretty good, with a magician one night, a juggling comedian (who, despite the mental image that must raise, was pretty good), and of course the singers and dancers. And who can resist a rousing performance of “Y-M-C-A?” Not, apparently, the enthusiastic guy two rows in front of me who was acting out every letter right along with the cast (see his silhouetted hands, at lower right of the inset pic?).
We didn’t do much exercise other than walking up and down the stairs instead of taking the elevators, but once in a while we got out before breakfast and walked the 4th deck outside passageway. This was better than trying to use the jogging track, which was always cluttered with users, and we generally had it to ourselves.
Ah, yes. Breakfast. The buffet was loaded with just about everything including omelet and pancake/waffle stations; a “Brit” bar where you could get baked beans, twelve meats, and grilled tomatoes; blintzes, pastries, and breads; cold and hot cereals; fruits of every description; yoghurt central; and dozens of things I can’t remember. The one downer was it was a real challenge to get truly crisp bacon. They just didn’t seem to understand the concept. After being an utter glutton for eggs & sausages the first couple of days, I settled down to a compromise of cereals, fruits, Danishes (and, on those rare mornings, edible bacon).
Not all of our grab bag table companions were scintillating company. We hit a low one day with the mouthful of mush. A husband and wife, two rather generously proportioned souls, who hailed from N’awlins. When we first sat down, I swear I thought he was speaking a foreign language. It wasn’t until I made out “New Orleans” that I realized I was hearing the most extreme southern accent I’d ever encountered. I couldn’t understand at least half his words. Fortunately his wife, who was every bit as charming as she appears in this shot, hardly spoke a word. The poor folks to the left were struggling to make sense of it as well.
Well, a good lunch, full stomachs, books and a comfortable lounge. The perfect recipe for . . . zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz at sea. Hey, I restrained myself when her mouth dropped open.
No comments:
Post a Comment