Well I have walked down to the port. Unmolested and unharmed. My virginity intact.
And there is the boat. Pretty impressive from the outside certainly. Not as big as the huge Aida Stella liner moored next to it but a lot bigger than the Saga cruiser between them. In fact that looks more like a North Sea trawler for old folk.
I had to wait in an embarkation lounge with other passengers as they are still preparing. I must say that my fellow passengers are a gloomy lot. Not a smile amongst them.
It’s a little ominous really.
Too late to change my mind perhaps? We’re sailing around the Canaries for Christ sake. I felt like jumping on the table and shouting “Cheer up … ! It’s not HMS Dignitas – it’s a return trip!”. Mind you, by the looks of one or two of them …..!
I shall share some of my happy pills with them.
The only people smiling are the ships company lined up offering a mouthful of champagne and a finger sandwich of something with lettuce. Obviously called a finger sandwich as they are just as big as my pinky.
I hope that this is not a sign of the food on board!
The crew mainly stand behind gaily decked tables selling God knows what, but by far the biggest promotion is for the daily excursions when we dock in the various ports. Strange that I am being sold time off the boat when I haven’t even got on the bloody thing.
I decided I must chill, it’s just the atmosphere in the waiting area. Perhaps the cheerful ones arrive later.
Well I am up the gangplank and wandering around my home for the next seven days.
My first cruise. Whatever happens over the next seven days will decide if it is my last.
My first impressions are good. The ship is big but not huge, fairly modern, all facilities and apparently decorated with wall to wall widows. A hopeful sign although so far most appear to be extras for the Living Dead series on Sky.
There are not only widows on board there are lots of couples comprising husbands and their soon to be widows.
Italians predominate. A shame but at least the weather will be good.
I had forgotten that Italians never talk. They shout, yell or scream their way through a conversation, always at mega decibel.
They may take some getting used to.
There are also lots of Spanish, Germans and not so many English at all really.
I have actually met a few of the English women already. A group of four struck up a conversation as we were queuing to embark. They come from some unpronounceable place “soomwear oop Noorth”
Rose, one of the women, has the features of an older version of Johnny Depp – striking features but unfortunately she looks like him when he’s made up for the role of Jack Sparrow in the Pirates of the Caribbean. She needs no wig.
In fact most of the four could grab a part in that film
Irene, could easily stand in for Captain Barbossa any day of the week. No need for stick on facial warts for our Irene. Betty is a ringer for Bootlace Bill and the fourth whose name I haven’t got yet is a dead ringer for Davy Jones with a Noddy Holder hairstyle’.
Mind you there are some very attractive women on board.
I just haven’t met them yet.
I am assured they are here by Jobelson the steward on my deck looking after the group of cabins I am in. He has already taken a shine to me or, more probably, I must look likely to give him a decent tip.
I am Mr Andrew.
He always greets me as Mr Andrew.
He has a permanent, huge, smile on his face. It’s quite refreshing, and he could easily screen test for a Colgate advert.
I gave him a ten euro note on our first meeting to obtain the cabin numbers of all the singles in my section. He did this, but then I had to slip him another twenty ‘cos I actually wanted a list of the single women.
Anyway having Red Rums teeth greet you daily as you open the cabin door will always remind me not to forget my sunglasses.
First night and I didn’t expect this.
But first things first. The food is excellent. Any doubts I had in the embarkation lounge have been blown away. My first meal in the restaurant was truly lovely. And the permanent buffet on the top deck looks amazing.
Due to embarkation, 1st sitting at meal times, which I am allocated, was shorter than is usual. I missed it. But was told to come back for the 2nd sitting around 9pm. I did exactly that and they put me onto an empty table for four. I ordered and was waiting, people watching as usual, when another couple turned up. Elderly, smart, small, miserable. It was their allocated table number I was sat on. They didn’t like it and before sitting down asked the maitre d if there was a table for two. No there wasn’t. They sat down after wandering off to make sure the maitre d wasn’t a lying foreign bugger.
He wasn’t and they came back, sat down and sulked.
I explained about the first short sitting and how I was being “squeezed in” just for the first night as indeed were many others in the same position. “Och, no bother” hubby said whilst not meaning it and not even looking at me. “we just wanted a table fer too!” in strong Scots.
“Well, I pointed out, there are no tables set for two anywhere in the restaurant”
“Och, nooo” as he looked around.
“And even less than that set for one “I said innocently.
“Aye”
His mousey little wife said nothing and made no eye contact with me at all. As you know I tend to give people private names and she was “Diamond ‘Lil” she had a ring on every finger, one finger had three. Some had those small chains that come from the ring and wrap around the wrist. She wore two necklaces, one gold, one silver and four bracelets on one arm and five on the other.
They were all a mixture of bright gold, silver, diamante, Indian beads and God knows what. I wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if she wore a leaded window bra.
You can tell why Diamond ‘Lil.
He, I just christened Misery Guts.
I tried really hard to strike up a conversation. Apart from the fact they came from Glasgow and had been on cruises before, I learnt nothing. She never said a word to me and when she spoke to him did so by whispering.
Dour Scots does not do the word dour justice.
I took my meal at a most deliberate leisurely pace and even though they ordered later they finished first and left. If it was possible I would say they left more miserable than when they came in.
Now the contrast. Later that night in the main dance bar a group of Spanish, about twelve of them, were having a ball. All middle aged couples obviously friends, away together and intent on enjoying themselves. A few too many drinks to make them rowdy but no trouble. Nobody could hear what they were saying that caused total uproar amongst them each time they spoke but the mood was infectious and everyone around them had a smile on their face.
Sitting next to them in this lounge was another, separate couple who were obviously enjoying watching others enjoy themselves. I could see the Spanish group lean over at one point and apologise for the noise they were making. I could see from the shrugs and the body language that the couple did not speak Spanish but had no objection to the fun. Carry on carry on were the hand signals.
I know it’s a long story but, what the heck! I’m on holiday and just chilling out writing so either bear with me or go make a cup of tea.
An hour later the Spanish were doing Flamenco. Encouraged by the band they were stomping around their corner of the lounge. Apart from three or four of them, It was atrocious but hilarious. Due to the middle aged bulk they had no choice but to parody the dancing. The inevitable then happened and they dragged up the couple sitting next to them. They were even worse. It was pure entertainment gold and in the end the whole lounge was cheering the two non Spanish on as they imitated bulls and matadors. Then all of a sudden they switched dance mode and turned into a Scottish dance as if to bagpipes, up on their toes, one hand above the heads and the other on the hip. It turns out they were from Aberdeen and they were the stars of the evening. Doing a very passable fling to Spanish flamenco.
So I spent my first night on board with dour, miserable Scots, proper Scots, drunk Spanish and the cast of Pirates of the Caribbean.
What a start eh! More soon
Cruising fact no 1
It is possible for the ship to dock in Morocco, passengers leave ship, visit the old town of Agabar for a few hours, return, board and have the ship sail off and have one passenger sleep through the whole thing.