Wine Again, Rough Seas and a Missed Dinner
The mal-de-mer finally won.
Was it just Sunday that we indulged again in a fantastic wine tasting lunch? And that my palate proved so good that only I was able to identify the grape underlying the “mystery wine” we were served? AND that the Sommelier decided to give it to us as a gift to enjoy with dinner that night?
And then . . . the seas got rough. The Captain had warned us. I thought I was prepared. My ReliefBand was functioning, batteries freshly replaced. I took some extra ginger tablets just in case. We’ve sailed through some pretty rough waters and, generally, once I’ve been on board a few days, I can handle anything.
Until Sunday. We dressed for dinner as usual. I was feeling vaguely yucky, but felt sure it would pass with a cocktail and a few potato chips, so off to the bar we went.
By the time the dinner hour rolled around, I knew there was no way. The mal de mer was in full force. We staggered down the hall to the reception desk at our favorite restaurant, knowing they were saving our table for us and our special bottle of wine would be waiting.
Our wonderful and sensitive waitperson saw us, grabbed my pre-ordered food (I’m gluten-sensitive and they ask that I pre-order everything so they’ll know it will be safe), and a menu for my husband . . . and I waved her back.
She wanted to send my order up to my room, but I knew by then that eating was not going to be possible. The Sommleir said he’d send the wine up. The waiter put a handful of candied ginger in my hand and they waved us on our way.
Sadly, sickly, we made our way to the room where I immediately stretched out on the bed, the room not yet made up for the night.
Shortly thereafter, in some mysterious way that the ship personnel communicate with each other, our room steward appeared and did her work quickly. I found my PJs, tossed my clothes down, and crawled into bed.
And commenced to enjoy one of the best nights’ sleep I can remember in years. Once in bed with my eyes closed, I could let my body relax into the movement, slowly, gently lulling me into a deep, restful sleep.
Yesterday, the ship was rolling as much as ever, but my sea legs and sea brain have returned. I was fine.
We were back at sea, heading to Victoria, B.C., where we will enjoy a high tea in some royal gardens. We also had yet another medical emergency on board, so the Captain has received special clearance to up the pace and come in two hours early to expedite this passenger’s disembarkation to a better medical facility.
I write in my favorite spot, high up, rocking on the open-air deck, watching the sparkling ocean—our first sunny day on this trip—heave with whitecaps.
But all good things must end. We disembark early on Wednesday, as we need to make a tight plane connection. We decided to pack up everything yesterday, leaving out only what we need for the next couple of days.
So, we shall be sadly singing, “My bags are packed, I’m ready to go,” knowing that this amazing crew will, in the space of a few hours, offload all our luggage and get ready to onload the next set, clean the suites from top to bottom, reprovision the entire ship (I really, really want to see their liquor storage room someday!), and then greet the next set of guests with smiles and graciousness. They blow my mind.