Ground Hog Day should have been Monday 16th May, the day we crossed the International Date Line and repeated a day. But one of the peculiarities of being at sea, and under the direction of the Master Under God, or MUG as the captain is correctly known, is that you can have ship’s time (about 15 minutes different from shore time…?) and can play around with the days because it suits you. Not the passengers, the Captain and Management. And so it was decided that our two repeat days should be Sunday 15th, for administrative reasons (can’t repeat a working day, apparently). The first we knew of it was when we received the Princess Patter (yes, really called that!), the daily newsletter giving us advance warning of all events and jollities on board ship, so you don’t miss that all important quiz or balloon drop or enrichment lecture. The PP for Sunday 15th (Day 1) was followed 24 hour later by the PP for Sunday 15th (Day 2). We asked our steward who confirmed he didn’t get paid double time two days running. Didn’t ever get paid double time actually….
So the following day, Monday 16th (when it finally arrived) brought with it an announcement from the Bridge: we would cross the International Date Line at 13.15, but would only cross latitude 180 later in the day at about 21.00. The reason being that the IDL does not do straight lines, but veers off at angles to include neighbouring islands who don’t want to be a day apart.
By the way, I’m writing this at about midnight, sitting on the toilet. I am sharing a cabin with three others, who I thought were asleep, and not wanting to disturb them with the light from my screen, I removed myself to the ensuite… only to be disturbed by Linda on a nightly ‘comfort’ visit. After both recovering from palpitations and then stifled hysteria, I vacated my post only to find Pat sitting up in bed, giggling. She’s also had the urge to write up a middle-of-the-night blog but I got the toilet first. Linda has now returned to bed and I’m back in the office.
So, what other peculiarities on board? The singing waiter at breakfast who did a powerful rendition of ‘O Sole Mio’; the strange eating habits of people when faced with unlimited food; the fact that the silver Princess vacuum mugs meant for coffee are most likely secretly filled with alcohol, at all times of the day – and who’s to know. The fact that the AA meetings are delicately referred to as ‘Friends of Dr Bob & Bill W. Meeting’; the fact that there is a lift from deck 16 to the Skywalker Bar which I knew nothing about till a couple of hours ago as all those who know keep it a secret. Deliberately and with malice aforethought. But the most beautiful peculiarity of all is seeing a couple of volcanoes which form part of the Aleutian Islands, totally covered in snow and emitting smoke or steam from the summit. So pretty.
We had a farewell dinner tonight for Sandra and Tony, who will be missed. Sandra won 11 games of Arsehole in a row this afternoon, and even after losing another was crowned Finale Champion and had a cocktail bought for her by the abject loser. Not me, by the way. Now that she is departing at Anchorage to fly off to Hawaii (while we cope with the Green Tortoise, sleeping like sardines, no showers and camping at Chicken) we will maybe have a chance of winning. We may bump into her and Tony in Vancouver and New York, so I have my Terracotta Warrior playing cards at the ready in my handbag. Aces at dawn, don’t mess with me.
Tomorrow (actually today…) at 09.15 we have a date with U.S. Customs downstairs in the Santa Fe restaurant. After which we can go ashore at Seward and try walking on dry land again after days and days at sea. I have a bag full of stuff to send home in order to make room in my luggage for more purchases, so first stop in Seward will be the Post Office. Second stop will be a bank as I need US $$$. Third stop a pharmacy to see if I can get codeine… rumour has it you can’t get it without prescription in the U.S. We disembark at Whittier the next day (tomorrow already) and then after a couple of days in Anchorage we’re off to Denali National Park.
I have been giving a lot of thought to the first trip I made round the world in 1969, making some comparisons with this one, and having a right old sentimental memory trip. The thing that sparked this off was being told this evening that we will make a stop in Anchorage at a supermarket for outdoor stuff so that those who don’t yet have sleeping bags can purchase them. The name of the store is ‘Fred Myers’. Those familiar with the story of Poor Cold Fred will need no explanations. For anyone else, I will relate the sad tale at a slightly later date. I guess enough time has passed (42 years) for me to go public at long last.
It’s 01.36, the ship is lurching madly and I’m sliding off the toilet seat so am going back to bed.
Patamateria 