Mal de Mermaid

With my anti-motion sickness pressure point wristbands and a couple Dramamine, I weathered the Roaring Forties without mishap. Others weren’t so lucky. One of the bridge players needed 6 stiches when his head had an altercation with a TV console. Others reported their TVs crashing off the walls. The public desktop computers in the lobby had already been moved to safer quarters when the bad weather struck. A friend canceled her pedicure appointment, another her haircut appointment —sharp clippers/scissors and 75-knot gusts aren’t a good match. The gym was closed when a few people (including me) nearly bounced off the treadmills when a big wave hit. Where the kitchen normally serves 20-30 room service dinners per day, on Monday night they served 140. Which was fine for the passengers, but not fine for the waiters who had to transport the meals to the rooms. Some of the crew were under the weather, too, despite their experience on the high (and low and high and low) seas. The captain’s wife, our official ship hostess, reports that her husband was very happy manning the bridge during all this, since for him that kind of weather is exciting. Bowls of green apples and candied ginger bits were available around the ship — both are good non-prescription remedies for mal de mer.

We’re back to normal today with temps in the mid-70s and fairly calm seas as we steam towards our next port of call: Melbourne.

This is our new chef in chief, who will be with us till London. Went to a risotto demo this am. He is very good, with a great reputation and already beloved by all the staff. Naturally, he’s French. I’ll pluck up my courage and speak to him... peut-être.

Companions: Yesterday an albatross flew alongside the ship for about an hour. There’d been flying fish earlier in the day. Last evening, from the topmost bar, we spotted a school of dolphins frolicking off the starboard bow. #

©2017, 2018 Susan Nash/PassePartout
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