Rogue Wave!

Just kidding…no waves, rogue or otherwise. It is almost balmy out here. We are now half way (sniff): 1000 miles from land. Here are a few fun facts: North America and Europe are moving farther apart; in the 173 years that Cunard has been crossing the Atlantic, the two continents have moved 8 meters away from each other. And here is my favorite: a fathom is 6 feet and comes from a word describing the approximate length of a man’s reach around his beloved.

There is a man in our corridor who sits in a windowless dark place reading all day long. He must be a body guard and I intend to find out whom he is protecting.

I am, as always a bit schizophrenic about where to park myself….once I am in one place I remember another and feel the need to go there. I am in constant motion, and alone. For example, I love the bar at the bow, but then I think I should be outside, so I go for a walk, then I want to find the children, so I go to one of the many athletic venues to track them down. I also love the idea of sitting very low down next to big windows where one can really get a sense of how huge the ocean is, and celebrate this by playing scrabble. But I never do. I like to wander the shops, get a fro yo, sit on my own deck (where I am now) flirt with my new best friend the Turk in the dining room, go to movies, get my hair done, go the gym, and my new thing: yoga. I love it all. There are some places I do not like however; and I marvel that anyone goes there. One is the winter garden…a low ceilinged place with fake waterfall and plants where people play bridge or hear the less attended lectures.

So handsome Turk is now so nice to us…gives us inside stories all the time, tells me I am a beauty of Hellenic proportions (I am paraphrasing) and then pushes the surf and turf on us. Handsome Turk, I say, do we look like people who eat something called surf and turf? It is so unromantic. And frankly I do not see the connection. Why lobster with beef? He suggested it to us so many times that it was clear that they have been told to unload the lobster pronto. Thomas tried to order tofu but Handsome Turk basically bonged that. He had put us at a really good table (children were at a movie and not with us) for two by the window. I guess one must order properly if one wants the table. …all food is included, it is just for style points.

He is a really good cook and for special moments he makes things by your table…we have had crepes suzette, bananas foster, and pasta. All excellent. Tomorrow we have coughed up a small fortune to take all of us on a behind the scenes tour. Thomas is beyond excited. I wonder if he will be able to sleep. But if that were not exciting enough, handsome wants to make us Turkish pasta at our table. I might even drink at lunch, something I am really terrible at, and actively loathe. But Turkish pasta whatever it is, sounds too good to drink with an Arnold palmer.

But best of all, handsome Turk indulges me my fascination with shipwreck stories. At breakfast I told him, in a friendly spirit of helpfulness that there were not enough life boats. “I counted” I said. He said, but 150 x 17…that is enough, no? 150? You mean 150 of us are to fit in each?! Yes. These boats have roofs on them and we will be required to sit on an X to mark our spot…and pray we are not next to a really fat person. Then, like sardines we will float with five members of the crew until someone rescues us. But as he pointed out, if the ship lists hard one way, then very few of the elderly will be able to get up to the top to fling themselves in.

Thank god.

(kidding! God, I am not a monster….)