Sunday, 9 October 2011
“Is that Blue John?” asked Mike at dinner one night. No, I had not been swimming in the icy Baltic and the questioner was not referring to any part of my anatomy. He was asking about the ring that I habitually wear on my pinkie when out and about. Curiously enough two days later I had the same enquiry from another man. 
I say it was curious because the stone comes from a very small area of Derbyshire and I wouldn’t expect anyone to recognise it. But these little coincidences happen on cruises demonstrating the accuracy of the theory of six degrees of separation. We had breakfast today with a woman whose grandmother came from St Helena and who wanted to know where she could get more information.
That long period while we killed time on our way to Australia was one of the most frustrating in our lives. We had completed all the tedious formalities in London – the Australians did not maintain a full diplomatic presence in either South Africa or Zimbabwe where we were living until then. Presenting ourselves and all the relevant documents to the sour presence behind the counter at Australia House we asked when we might expect to receive our visas. “Tomorrow.” was the response. Then Matt’s South African passport was spotted below our British documents. After paging through this it was rejected because there was said to be no space for the visa – Matt had by then done a good deal of travelling. There was no appeal against the decision, so we shot around to the South African Embassy and explained our problem: they responded very well and issued the new document overnight. Back we went to the Australian Embassy and handed everything over. It was taken without a word. “Can we pick up our visas tomorrow?” I asked. “We’ll let you know when they are processed.” – and that was that. It was three months before we finally got the visas and then only because one of my colleagues from Singapore who was on home leave happened to be a personal friend of the Australian Ambassador and interceded on our behalf. Mongrels, to use an Aussie expression.
It has been very interesting observing the British in holiday mode on this cruise. Most of our other sea voyages they have been as a minority in the midst of US citizens, with a leavening of other nationalities. There have been exceptions – the original 1969 Reina de Mar cruise to South America was mainly South African; the White Christmas river Cruise in December last year was mainly Australian as was the Coral Princess cruise from Cairns to Townsville back in 1991, but for the rest, we were the aliens in the US mob.
Many of the current load of passengers seem to be from the northern parts of England and this may be why there is such a positive air about the ship. We have always felt that people from these parts have a very different attitude from their southern fellows. I know that it is regarded as wrong to make generalisations, but our perceptions are our realities and we have met too many unhappy complaining southerners not to draw this conclusion. We have also realised just how much the class system is still in place. We have often been put in mind of the famous “I look down on him” sketch with John Cleese and the Two Ronnies. You can see people sizing each other up in much the way that old South Africans will check out the precise shade of brown when meeting another. There are two main eating options for most meals: the Waldorf Restaurant, where for the midday and evening meal, there is waiter service with a breakfast buffet. Free seating for lunch: assigned tables in the evening. The other option is Mario’s Bistro where there is a buffet for all meals and free seating at small two and four seater tables. People who eat there also sit out on deck if the weather is fine – and there is a small servery there for light lunches – slices of pizza or fried fish or sausages and salads.
We don’t often eat here because I don’t like queuing for food and there is often a bit of a line if you hit the wrong time. Mind you, having said that, the line is usually mainly in the port race with the starboard side almost empty of the sheep who all follow each other. I think this is because the interior door from the ship is on the port side, so people simply join the first queue they see instead of looking for better options. Angelino the maitre d’ there always laughs when I say to him “I see the sheep are still following each other.” He has given up trying to move them. Mind you, it isn’t only the people on the Marco Polo who have these traits. I ran an amusing little experience of my own when I attended a course at Stanford University in San Francisco, but I mustn’t digress down that path for the moment……
What I was starting to say is that there is a distinct difference between the type of people who frequent Mario’s and the Waldorf. In the latter one will occasionally see men wearing ties, jackets and slacks for lunch – at the former T-shirts, golf shirts and jeans or shorts are the order of the day. Of course there are casually dressed people – me included – in the Waldorf but generally speaking there is an air of refinement in the restaurant that isn’t there in the bistro. We had an amusing set of people within the eight at our dinner table, with some palpable tensions observed in accents, dining etiquette and manners. I’ll say no more on the subject because we all got on pretty well and we certainly had no problems – as Colonials we were not really expected to know how to behave. Mind you I do know better than to jump a queue as one old rascal did when I was in line for coffee this afternoon. The bloke behind me and I had calculated that the mugs would run out either when I picked up mine although there might be two left for him, depending on how many mugs the people in front of us used. Turned out his theory was correct – men usually pick up two: women usually pick up one and he was going to get his coffee. Two people away from this nirvana, a little old wrinkled grey man shot in, grabbed two mugs and ran before anyone could stop him. Not done, old boy, not done.
There was a little muttering yesterday afternoon as we sailed across the Baltic from Sweden because people started to realise that we would be transiting the Kiel Canal at night. Why it took so long for them to realise this was beyond me as it was clear from the itinerary that we were due there at 22.30 and that we would exit the canal at 06.30 the following morning. I was somewhat puzzled by the disappointment being registered; the canals and locks we went through on the river cruise in December were nothing to be excited about and I imagined there wasn’t a great deal to see while in the canal. The ‘lady’ in our party rather condescendingly explained to me that if one had a narrow boat, as indeed she did (or at least access to such a boat through a friend, which is really the same thing) one would know that there were many charming little villages and inns one could stop at as one cruised the canals of England. Hmmmm…. I didn’t see the direct relationship – rather like driving through the charming lanes of a country and motoring on the highway I thought. But I forbore to argue as we had already had a difference of opinion on a previous occasion about the dangers of women wearing burqas, for which I had received a kick on the ankle from Rab. Many people stayed up until after midnight to see us finally entering the lock and were up at 5.30 in the freezing cold to watch our progress. I glanced out of our window as I turned in and saw all I wanted to of the concrete mass which constituted the lock and when I woke in the early hours of the morning the mist precluded any views of charming villages alongside the autobahn that is the Kiel canal.
I guess you can’t please all the people all the time – like the sisters I spoke to one evening. The one was a widow and the other was travelling with her sister because her husband wouldn’t get on a ship if you paid him. they said it was quite a nice experience but felt that it would have been improved if there had been a warm indoor swimming pool. By and large most cruise virgins we have spoken to say they have enjoyed themselves and are considering other destinations and voyages. Some are more ambivalent citing the lack of freedom to ‘do their own thing’ as the main reason for possibly not cruising again. Of course there is a balance between all the multiplicity of travel choices and indeed between the larger ships and the smaller ones like Marco Polo. Our personal preferences are to smaller ships with less amenities but more atmosphere – we aren’t into ice-skating or climbing walls, amenities provided on some of the very large ships and although we enjoy driving through countries at our own pace, there is a lot to be said for getting tastes of foreign places while travelling in one’s own home – albeit a temporary one.
We’ve had two days at sea now and should dock tomorrow on time before starting our next leg. It will be interesting to see who we meet on that one.
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