Having a drink on the patio in the fading sunlight before dinner on Wednesday night we chatted about the cruise. This led a short haired aggressive looking woman to ask us if we were sailing on Marco Polo and if so did we think she would be able to get a sunhat? We gave her the benefit of our collective wisdom on the subject, which is to say that she probably would be able to, but it seemed unlikely that she would need it, given the long term weather forecast. To which she responded, rather snappily that she had her ski hat for St Petersburg which she had visited on two occasions, leaving us to wonder why she had asked such ignoramuses as us for an opinion. I noted her down as a potential troublemaker to be avoided at all costs.
And I think I was right. Later in the evening she got into a steadily escalating argument with the staff about her bar bill despite all apologies and offers of suitable compensation. More trouble at breakfast the following morning about the quality of the eggs and the demand that she had a special order cooked. We’ve seen her on the ship, but have so far managed to avoid her. There are some of her ilk on every voyage and we do our best to identify them and take avoiding action sooner rather than later.
About 25 of the 122 guests in the hotel were Marco Polo passengers and we observed them with some care during our two meals. They were almost universally, older looking than we were – unless we are under some illusion about our appearance – and many of them seemed even stouter than us, which was some comfort. The exceptions to this general rule tended towards the tattooed long haired variety of heavily built men with thinning mullet hairstyles, unless they were shaved bald. Many of them seemed to be from the Northern parts of Britain, judging by their accents. All in all it looked almost as if they were the assembled cast of a reality show.
The morning mist was wreathing the autumnal trees again when we surfaced and we took a stroll around the grounds. The hotel is a converted ‘listed building’ and it must have been quite splendid in its heyday. As it is now, it has the tired look that so many British buildings have and the grounds were in a similar state of disrepair, from the deserted weed raddled tennis court to the collapsing bird bath and the grass which was uncut. It was also scored with patches where it seemed that some of the multiplicity of weeds had been dug out. Jen defended the owners on this count saying that it was likely that foxes had been busy digging after burrowing insects.
We presented ourselves at the passenger terminal at 12.45 in accordance with our boarding instructions after running into a fair bit of traffic and rounding one traffic circle three times, driving the GPS into a frenzy of re-calculations as we exchanged views with Jen about the correct exit to take. Although the warm weather was welcomed with open arms by most people after what was said to be a pretty poor summer, there were some disadvantages for us. The ship had been delayed in coming into port so the benches in the terminal were crowded with a Dantesque sweating mass of people as the crew worked at the backlog of disembarking passengers. We managed to find a perch and took our minds off the discomfort of the inferno by watching the world go by. And what sights there were – and an amazing variety of dress. A conga line of blind people went by. We had to admire their courage in undertaking a voyage like this but wondered what the relevant term would be in their group for sight seeing.
In the fullness of time our group of cabins was called up, unfortunately just as some rather grumpy passengers arrived by coach who felt that we were jumping the queue. Regrettably one of the more vociferous complainants was a fellow Australian and I got into a spot of bother from Rab for what she saw as an unnecessary brusque response, which will not be quoted here, but which I had thought to be appropriate.
The security requirements took a little time with every passenger being photographed for identity. Talking of which we were amused to see that it seems the Australian objections to steel knives on aircraft has been changed. Ever since 9/11 the cutlery supplied flying into and out of Australia consisted not of steel implements, but plastic knives. It was not clear why this distinction was made, since I always felt that a steel fork in the eye might grab the attention somewhat more than being threatened by a blunt steel knife. They are still uptight about liquids, but thank goodness the focus on batteries that was such a pain when flying after Lockerbie is no more. I wonder if terrorist threats are really so subject to change? Do they as a group just give up on the concept of battery powered timer driven devices for example?
Our cabin was larger than we had expected and with two large windows looked very attractive. Unfortunately it was on the sunny side of the ship, so it was very hot as the air-conditioning was working on low with the ships engines idling. We unpacked as quickly as we could and found a shady spot on the deck where the gentle breeze and a couple of beers lowered our internal and external temperatures satisfactorily. As sailing time approached we had a bit of activity from some of the entertainers who got the crowd singing along to some old sixties numbers. Great atmosphere and predicating a good crowd for the voyage – happily noisy as opposed to rowdy. A fine distinction perhaps. We shall see.
Boat drill followed – with more attention to detail than any we have done before. Although it was not all that pleasant standing by our life boats in the hot sun, it was comforting that the captain took this so seriously.
Dinner gave us the first chance of meeting the people we’ll be seeing regularly over the next two weeks and they seem a pretty decent bunch, although Viv, who was sitting next to me has some (perhaps all) views which do not exactly mesh with mine. When we wandered into the minefield of South Africa, a subject on which she was something of an expert having made three trips there, I suggested that we should consider the old maxim that no one changed their minds from losing an argument and that it might be better to change the subject rather than to change each other’s minds. She agreed with a shriek of laughter and we moved onto happier things.
The evening closed with the first of the variety shows in the Marco Polo Lounge. There was a bit too much ethnic dancing for our taste – what I refer to HiHi dancing because so often the high kicks and foot stomping is accompanied by shrill cries. Not that there were many such cries from the very competent dance team, but they DID go on for a good deal than we thought strictly necessary in each dance. They also demonstrated their multi-lingual ability in singing a multiplicity of songs in various unrecognisable languages. Again, the songs seemed at times interminable and somewhat repetitive – how many verses of what seems like a love song sung in Russian does anyone really want to listen to?
A small mystery developed on our return to our cabin. We received an invitation to dine with the Captain after his Cocktail Party on the following night. Why us? Who knows! But we had to decline on the basis of not being able to meet the dated dress standards of Fine Formal Wear. I’ve reluctantly brought a tie and jacket with me, but that would not be what the Captain wanted to see!!
And so to bed.
No comments:
Post a Comment