Around the Ship on Sea Days
In order to get 3/4 of the way around South America, across the Pacific, across the Indian, around the Cape of Good Hope and up the west side of Africa to London, one must spend roughly 5.9 dozen days at sea.
One woman left the last cruise mid-stream because she was bored. Bored? Her problem, not Viking’s.
There are lectures, bridge courses, wildlife watching (with a naturalist), craft groups, fitness classes and a gym, shuffleboard and bocce. This morning there was an Amateur Radio Operators Get Together. For entertainment there are shows in the theatre (vocalists, dancers [tattoo-covered cloggers who claim to be where Hip Hop meets Tap!], ventriloquists, instrumentalists and just plain -mentalists) and music in bars and other public spaces all around the ship (the Resident Guitarist, the Resident Pianist, and the Resident Classical Duo and the Viking Band).
So far, I have partaken of a few of the above, plus a Wine Tasting, a Cooking Class and a Travel Writers & Bloggers Get Together.
The tasting was ‘Wines of the World’: Sparkling wine from England (you read that right: cloudy weather creates desirably high acidity), Chile, Napa and Paso Robles CA, Australia and Portugal. Educational and a good way to meet more people. People who like wine.
Another day it was the ‘Journey to Brazil’ cooking class. Those are chicken croquettes, followed by a shrimp-coconut milk entrée and a guava jelly-filled sponge roll. Twelve of us sliced and diced and grated and chopped, then cooked, then ate — and drank. Our after luncheon drink was a Tequila and Mango blender cocktail.
This is Chef Wayan from Bali. I asked him to teach me to say Thank You in Indonesian, since both my stewards are Indonesian: Putu is from Bali and Firza from Java. It’s terima kasih (Tuh-REE-mah KAH-see).
Fortified with wine and that Tequilla cocktail, I attended the first (maybe the last) Travel Writers and Bloggers Get Together. Though no one claimed to be a bona fide travel writer, most everyone else does have a blog.
‘On 2 November the ships crossed the equator. The fit were ritually ducked: hoisted up by a rope from the main yard, dropped into the sea from a height, then picked up by boat. Many “recovered the colour of their skins, which were grown very black and nasty,” Funnell wrote.’ — from Selkirk’s Island: The True and Strange Adventures of the Real Robinson Crusoe, by Diana Souhami. I’d given that book to David many moons ago and brought it along since on Valentine’s Day we will be visiting what’s now officially named Robinson Crusoe Island. It belongs to and is off the coast of Chile, on the way to Easter Island.
Here’s what a Viking-style ceremonial ‘ducking’ looks like, when all those on board who have never crossed the Equator must ‘kiss the fish’ then take a dunk in the pool. When they come out the other side, they get a flute of Aquavit — this is a Norwegian vessel after all. First, the crew (in their work uniforms), then these passengers:
Then staff, including these two members of the resident entertainment team:
Next, Officers (in uniform, minus shoes) and finally the Cruise Director and the Captain. I know Heather’s been across the Equator before because she’s been in this business quite a few years — and I saw her do this last year. And I suspect a captain who is put in charge of an ocean liner has most likely been across as well. But their taking part is part of the ‘All for one and one for all’ camaraderie on this ship.
Proof that I kissed the fish last year. The pretty lady who is not kissing the fish is my friend Lara, wife of last year’s captain and the ship’s official hostess. #
