Without any indication in my papers about when to board the ship, I checked out of the hotel as quickly as possible, happy to be rid of the place, only to find at the dock that new passengers could not board until noon. The prospect of standng in 92 degree heat for over two hours in my uniform, complete with the white shirt and required red tie (why red?) was so unpleasant that at the risk of getting off to a poor beginning (a serious no-no), I pleaded to be let aboard, if only to wait in air conditioning. The man at the end of the gangway didn't seem to understand my papers - "please give Mr. Cooper your complete cooperation and help in any way" - and finally called someone aboard for authorization. Hurray! I got aboard. But I had to carry my own luggage. All 100 pounds of it!
Since my cabin/suite was already occupied by my fellow gentleman host, the desk allowed me to check in. I struggled with the heavy bags and two carry-ons down the hallways and up the elevator to my suite. Heinz was not there so I pushed on with the daunting task of trying to find places in very small spaces for all this stuff I thought essential. I should have remembered my trip to Turkey, when my luggage was lost and I lived out of a plastic bag for four days.
It wasn't long before Heinz joined me. He's tall and thin with receding white hair and a very wiry moustache. He introduced himself and showed me where his things were and where I could put mine. He was fair; he left me half the space, if at the bottom instead of the top. I managed to stuff everything into someplace and now that it's there, I still don't know where everything is. Now, just where is that nail file? Heinz and I had lunch in the Pizza Place, where the help-yourself style suited my mood. It also is a place where there are a few tables outside. Lovely. After lunch Hienz showed me around the ship and introduced me to many poeple whose names I'll never remember. In the process of this grand tour, I got to know Heinz better. At 67, he's been doing this for a long time. When I asked him where he'd been in the world, he laughed and said, "Everywhere." He let it go at that. He's from Munich and speaks English so competently, and so quickly, that I can't catch everything he says. On our tour, he demostrated his charm with many of the passengers and staff, stopping often to greet people and introduce me. In the process, I met Donna, from Midland, Texas, Nancy from Vero Beach, both ladies traveling alone, Lorraine, the cruise director and our ultimate boss, and Elsa, the entertainment director who supervises and directs our activities.
At the appointed cocktail hour, Heinz dragged me off to meet the singles at the Going Solo cocktail party. Only one woman came. Gabrielle, of French origin, but now from Pompano Beach - her husband, now deceased, was in the American diplomatic corps - was a real coquette. Of a certain age, perhaps 65 or 70, she's well-preserved, petite, and a very good dancer. She willingly demonstrated by asking Sasha, the dance instructor from the Ukraine - why are they all Russian? - to give her a turn around the dance floor. She's a very good dancer and their cha cha was disheartening to me, with my primitive steps. Just outside out suite, we ran into Margot, pronounced, she was quick to add, "Margo," but spelled with a T. Maybe 75 - it was hard to tell; most of these ladies are preserved in bee balm - she insisted that she'd met me before although neither she nor I could remember where. Then out of the blue, she asked me if I knew Enzo, our maitre d' on the Silver Shadow when Rhea and I went to Australia. She knew him as a very competent concierge, who could get her into anywhere in the world she wanted to go (and had been, she let me know.) The fact that I knew Enzo has made Margot (with a T) a fast friend. At cocktails, I also met Pam and Chuck, from Seattle. Chuck favors glasses with yellow lenses and when I told him I was from Maryland, he said he once raced on the Choptank River. What a surprise; my hometown, Denton, is on the Choptank River. We agreed that the world is, you guessed it, a very small place. I also met Rudy, a man in his 80's from Los Angeles (although he's originally German) and Patrick, from Sydney. Since we couldn't find any single ladies to join us for dinner - Gabrielle was going ashore - we asked Rudy and Patrick to join us.
Rudy's family was once very wealthy but his parents lost everything when the Russians occupied his part of Germany after the Second World war. His wife died almost 20 years ago and after she passed away, he found an old school mate on one of his frequent trips to Germany and they, once lover, became lovers again. But he's getting too old now, he said for such foolishness and for the fist time, will be alone for Christmas. He has children and grandchildren, all of whom have asked him to be with them for the holidays but the multitude gets on his nerves. I understand how he feels.
(Trying desperately to catch up, I've been at this keyboard for hours. I need to rest. Stay tuned for my description of Patrick, who was quite another cup of tea.)
Since my cabin/suite was already occupied by my fellow gentleman host, the desk allowed me to check in. I struggled with the heavy bags and two carry-ons down the hallways and up the elevator to my suite. Heinz was not there so I pushed on with the daunting task of trying to find places in very small spaces for all this stuff I thought essential. I should have remembered my trip to Turkey, when my luggage was lost and I lived out of a plastic bag for four days.
It wasn't long before Heinz joined me. He's tall and thin with receding white hair and a very wiry moustache. He introduced himself and showed me where his things were and where I could put mine. He was fair; he left me half the space, if at the bottom instead of the top. I managed to stuff everything into someplace and now that it's there, I still don't know where everything is. Now, just where is that nail file? Heinz and I had lunch in the Pizza Place, where the help-yourself style suited my mood. It also is a place where there are a few tables outside. Lovely. After lunch Hienz showed me around the ship and introduced me to many poeple whose names I'll never remember. In the process of this grand tour, I got to know Heinz better. At 67, he's been doing this for a long time. When I asked him where he'd been in the world, he laughed and said, "Everywhere." He let it go at that. He's from Munich and speaks English so competently, and so quickly, that I can't catch everything he says. On our tour, he demostrated his charm with many of the passengers and staff, stopping often to greet people and introduce me. In the process, I met Donna, from Midland, Texas, Nancy from Vero Beach, both ladies traveling alone, Lorraine, the cruise director and our ultimate boss, and Elsa, the entertainment director who supervises and directs our activities.
At the appointed cocktail hour, Heinz dragged me off to meet the singles at the Going Solo cocktail party. Only one woman came. Gabrielle, of French origin, but now from Pompano Beach - her husband, now deceased, was in the American diplomatic corps - was a real coquette. Of a certain age, perhaps 65 or 70, she's well-preserved, petite, and a very good dancer. She willingly demonstrated by asking Sasha, the dance instructor from the Ukraine - why are they all Russian? - to give her a turn around the dance floor. She's a very good dancer and their cha cha was disheartening to me, with my primitive steps. Just outside out suite, we ran into Margot, pronounced, she was quick to add, "Margo," but spelled with a T. Maybe 75 - it was hard to tell; most of these ladies are preserved in bee balm - she insisted that she'd met me before although neither she nor I could remember where. Then out of the blue, she asked me if I knew Enzo, our maitre d' on the Silver Shadow when Rhea and I went to Australia. She knew him as a very competent concierge, who could get her into anywhere in the world she wanted to go (and had been, she let me know.) The fact that I knew Enzo has made Margot (with a T) a fast friend. At cocktails, I also met Pam and Chuck, from Seattle. Chuck favors glasses with yellow lenses and when I told him I was from Maryland, he said he once raced on the Choptank River. What a surprise; my hometown, Denton, is on the Choptank River. We agreed that the world is, you guessed it, a very small place. I also met Rudy, a man in his 80's from Los Angeles (although he's originally German) and Patrick, from Sydney. Since we couldn't find any single ladies to join us for dinner - Gabrielle was going ashore - we asked Rudy and Patrick to join us.
Rudy's family was once very wealthy but his parents lost everything when the Russians occupied his part of Germany after the Second World war. His wife died almost 20 years ago and after she passed away, he found an old school mate on one of his frequent trips to Germany and they, once lover, became lovers again. But he's getting too old now, he said for such foolishness and for the fist time, will be alone for Christmas. He has children and grandchildren, all of whom have asked him to be with them for the holidays but the multitude gets on his nerves. I understand how he feels.
(Trying desperately to catch up, I've been at this keyboard for hours. I need to rest. Stay tuned for my description of Patrick, who was quite another cup of tea.)
No comments:
Post a Comment