Belated cruise notes
The first evening Sis and I returned to our cabin, this was the towel animal on my bed:
Between the motel in Fort Lauderdale and this omen, I should have known this cruise would be strange. I can’t read tea leaves either.
***
The night the Mister had died, I galloped downstairs, fell upon a cinnamon roll and consumed it. Ah, comfort food. Only on a cruise ship are such things available any time, for any reason.
***
In Lisbon, all the sidewalks are this intricate sort of handwork. One tourist asked the guide, “Do you make your prisoners do this?” Hehe.
***
This is proof that not all Italian design is to die for.
***
But I would like to thank France for giving me the biggest laugh. As we were anchored in harbor, a French girls rowing class executed a nearly impossible maneuver in this day of high security … they smacked into our cruise ship before instructors dragged them away.
As they floated off, the girls were giggling and calling bon jour to passengers, sounding like so many happy little song sparrows.
***
A young Indonesian waiter adopted us as his charges for the entire cruise. His English was poor; I rarely understood a word he said. But Sis is a gentle sort, and took a lot of time speaking with him. They chatted about home towns and families and politics and ship gossip and even teased each other. I missed a few of these events, so he asked her if I was upset with his service. She assured him no, then tried to explain about the Mister. She later told me that she wasn’t sure whether he understood or not. But he must have tried to find the most appropriate American idiom he’d been taught. Because when I next saw him, he said, “the show must go on.”
And so it must. It’s getting sunnier on the back nine.