Saturday, November 28: St. Helena

As usual, I got up early to photograph the sunrise. I was so “into” my camera – focused on seeing through the lens, searching for something, anything in the east that might make a nice picture – that I neglected the other end of the ship. So when I went forward for a change, I was totally surprised to find St. Helena looming large in front of us like a huge reddish brown iceberg. I couldn’t help feeling compassion for Napoleon when, after 69 days at sea, he arrived here in 1815 with this massive, foreboding landscape in front of him. After conquering most of Europe and ruling an empire, he must have felt a sense of true defeat, knowing he’d been exiled to such a remote and desolate place. The only thing the least bit cheerful in this doleful picture was spinner dolphins swimming along with the ship, jumping out of the sea and spinning around, before splashing back into it again. I gave up on the sunrise and concentrated on St. Helena.
St. Helena is only 47 square miles in size with a quay at the harbor of its only settlement, Jamestown, the only place to get on or off the island. The place was discovered by the Portuguese who used it, along with Ascension (another desolate island further on in the Atlantic), as a way-station for voyages to and from Brazil. It does have water and the interior of the island is fertile if only in a shallow layer above this volcanic rock. I was asked to accompany a “Round the Island” tour as the ship’s representative, which means you carry a first aid kit, supplied by the Destinations Desk, and count people at each stop. The tour guy (read me) gets off and on last. After the first stop, I stood at the front of the bus and told everybody my name, that I had first aid if they needed it and that an as ardent photographer, I would be happy to photograph any couple that wanted their picture taken together. The crowd was not buying my cheerful presentation and when I told them I’d do anything I could to make their tour more comfortable, some wise ass yelled out that he wanted a cappuccino. That I couldn’t help him with.
We drove for a long time and then walked a long way to visit the Napoleon’s tomb. Even though his body was exhumed and returned to France in 1840, the island clings to the only distinction it has. The site of his original tomb was down a long grassy path – and I mean LONG; it took about fifteen minutes to get there – in a little round grotto-like space, carefully tended and beautifully landscaped mostly with little red orchids, which bloom naturally here in great profusion. After the tomb, we went to Longwood, the place where Napoleon lived until he died here in 1821. The house is simple, certainly not the palace he must have been accustomed to and is now a museum furnished with many of the original pieces. The many photographs I took compensated for no sunrise. Legend suggests that “the little corporal” received his guests at the fireplace in the billiard room, painted a bright mint jelly green, and insisted on formal court attire. A few of his uniforms are preserved here and, yes, he was tiny. The house is surrounded by acres of white and blue agapanthus, those showy flowers with long stems and alium-like flowers at the end. They were in full bloom and just incredibly beautiful and so prolific that I had to brush them aside as I walked down the paths. Our tour continued with a stop at Jacob’s ladder, 300+ steps up from the village to the top of the mountain. Not for me, thank you. And we stopped on the road several times for pictures of the landscape – including the heart-shaped rock cutout on the side of the mountain – and vistas of the sea. At a stop in the center of Jamestown, I was interested in the way the natives had gathered to see us, observing in wonder as we tried to spend our money on T shirts and postcards, proving to friends and family that we’ve actually been in such a remote place. There is no airport so everything has to come and go by boats. One comes from Cape Town once a month and we were only the second cruise ship to anchor in the harbor this year. So you can see we were a curiosity, with our sun bonnets and cameras.
Back on the ship, with the first aid kit and my critique turned in – after all, I’m a good little boy – I had lunch on deck with Nancy and Donna. Donna’s health and attitude have definitely improved but Nance told me the same story she always tells me when we are together. I escaped to my cabin for a nap.
It was formal night so I had to get all gussied up in my tuxedo, not my favorite uniform. Heinz fussed in front of the mirror for about ten minutes, playing with his coat handkerchief until he got it just the way he wanted it. Then it was off to the theater for a reception for guests who have traveled enough to qualify for brass, silver, gold, platinum or titanium levels. I learned that 85% of those on board have traveled with Regency before. I worked the room, talking to people I now know and searching out any stray Solo ladies. I chatted for a while with Anne, from South Africa, a tiny woman with a stern exterior that belies her humorous personality. I met her in dance class.
Dinner with Rudy, Heinz, Patrick and Diane was enlivened by a new to us woman: Ellie from Bradenton. Probably in her seventies, with shoulder-length brown/black hair cut like a boy, she looked stuffy but turned out to be a welcome relief to those others I’ve grown so used to. She was wearing a black dress with a very colorful mumu-like scarfy thing over it. And she was littered with emeralds, big ones on a chain around her neck and even bigger ones suspended from her ears. Each emerald was surrounded by small diamonds. She told me she had hesitated to join us – we had an extra seat at our table and had asked the maitre d’ to give us another guest – so the maitre d’ said he’d bring her over near to us and if she didn’t like the way we looked, he would seat her alone. But, she said, we looked okay and she enjoyed herself tremendously. Again, she talked about the ships she’d been on - she can’t remember them all and doesn’t even remember where she’s been; she just likes the way the crews always treat her – but then moved on to more interesting topics. I enjoyed her company.
The violinist violined again. And then we went to the Lounge for Latin Music Night. Even Sasha and Olena had a hard time keeping up with Fernando and Mayala who gave a couple of incredibly sexy demonstrations of their version of the samba. It was too much competition for me. I danced a couple of times with Gail – from north of Austin and traveling with her husband and her mother-in-law (who is an incredible 94) but she and her husband are fond of ballroom competitions and she was out of my league, her hips swiveling and her arms spread out as though she was about to take off. I sicced her on Heinz who was happier than me to lead her around the dance floor.
Gabrielle took me aside after dinner and asked me to join her in Prime 7 for dinner on November 30. She has reserved a table for eight and needed another gentleman. It’s quite an honor to be included and I had to ask Elsa’s permission. I told her I would be happy to forego this privilege but she said that Gabrielle “needed taking care of” (read travels with Regent a lot) and I should go. Heinz won’t like it. Stay tuned.