No Land in Sight

Hi,

Seeing as there are no ports of call between Africa and South America, I thought I might tell you a bit about ship life whilst out of sight of land for four days.

I've uncovered a conspiracy on this boat - noticed it several days back, but it only dawned on me

as I was watching the coast of Africa recede over the rim of the world. Every time I hang my pants or shorts in the closet of our stateroom, the waist shrinks. In speaking with several other of the inmates on the barky, many of whom hover somewhere between 70 and 300 years of age, apparently I'm not the only one who has noticed. Margaret of course threw cold water on my theory saying it has way more to do with the way I Hoover down the food at the various restaurants on the ship. Hmm - she may have a point. Kidding aside however, the food on this ship is truly outstanding and its VERY HARD to say no - especially for those of us possessed of little will power. As a matter of fact the food for the most part is actually shamefully good for you and I live in fear of going into 'non-toxic shock'. Salvation - found a place called Waves Grill that will build you a hamburger or hot dog and fries all dressed up.

With that in mind about a week ago I started 'fast walking' around the deck. It works tolerably well but requires constant attention to fellow exercise walkers and couples just out for a stroll - not unlike those Italian drivers I mentioned in an earlier communication that view people as moving slalom poles. After a few days  of this I was whining to somebody who really didn't care (read my wife) and she suggested I try the upper track. Upper track? Turns out there is another track one  deck higher for exercise walking rather than just walking. Hmm - I'll give it a try, so up I go and get tuned up pretty quick. It turns out this is where the gray haired Maseratis' hang out. I got passed so many times, so fast, and by people who seemingly had no right to do so. I'm just now starting to hold my own but there is one lady about half my height and twice my girth that every time she laps me I get wind burn! Very sobering.

These tracks are good but not well suited to running because they are not oval in shape. The runners pretty much have to use the Treadmills in the very well stocked gym - machines are a wide variety of treadmills, stationary bikes, ellipticals, free weights, nautilus machines, balance balls etc. All of them designed to exact misery as penance for sins committed in the restaurants.

We got an invite to the captains private reception yesterday - drinks and food on his tab - must be coming up in the world. Learned that of the 1200 passengers on this ship (which makes it small to mid size in this business), there are 350 Canucks! About twice as many Americans and the balance made up of people from 17 different countries. A veritable United Nations of languages and races. As you might expect the Canadians are very gregarious and with the staff introductions the loudest cheers were for the Canadian staffers. Everyone introduced after him tried to claim they were Canadian. There's a fair chance if you go to Bingo a hockey game will break out.

We are on the final 'at sea' day in the Atlantic crossing and it has been very pleasant. M and I really like them - saw 2 boats in 4 days. Man it's flat - and I thought the prairies were vertically challenged. Not that I'm complaining - an ocean NOT vertically challenged could be intimidating. If you go up to the top deck the curvature of the earth will stop you in your tracks.

The other thing that stops me in my tracks is is they serve British Tea at 4:00pm every day. Not a word of a lie - you sit in comfy chairs and a guy with a white tunic and white gloves comes around with a box full of the teas of the world - and you choose - and put the tea in a china pot - and sip out of a china tea cup - tres elegant - and I'm thinking, I could get used to this. Then, and here's the kicker, another person similarly attired pushes a trolley up next to you with amazing little sandwiches and deserts - and then, ---wait for it  they offer you Scottish scones with clotted cream and preserves. I'm in meltdown. Now I know clotted cream probably is the equivalent of clotted arteries, but in this setting, try to imagine how little I care. As we sit there  sipping tea, eating a scone and contemplating the curvature of the earth I think to myself --- Wow, we just sailed across the Atlantic and crossed the equator to boot.

Cheers,

Margaret & Harry