The captain explained there was a bit of a weather issue that was going to change up the itinerary a bit. Instead of Corsica we’d be heading to Monaco and would head back to Corsica in a couple of days. So our day at sea was… interesting. The captain came on the PA and before making his announcements turned to another officer and said, “Do you know where we are?” He was asking for coordinates, but instead the cruise director lit up his mike and said, “You’re on the bridge, captain.” Captain Tysse did read us our coordinates in lat/long and deemed them to be just north of nowhere, and then announced to us passengers, “We will burn an extra 18 tons of fuel keeping ahead of the weather, because if I keep the boat stable you are so much easier to deal with.” The seas where we were going in Corsica would have been 25-30 ft. The bit of weather made for a rougher day than we’d had so far, but the sun was shining. The boat was doing a bit of a shimmy, a wiggle, and a roll, but I’d found a rhythm in its repetitiveness and I actually quite liked the ride. Anita, or Chica Loco, which is what her Spanish nickname would be if they knew her better, is seeking out spots for the bumpiest ride she can get. The forward upper deck is protected across the front, but of course she stuck her head around the side and almost lost her shirt and her sunglasses. Mike was not faring as well. He took Dramamine, but only after symptoms began so all bets were off. I gave him some Zofran, and between that, some bread and some ginger ale he was much better by dinner.

The captain mentioned we had to be farther out from the French coast than he had hoped as the French navy was performing exercises in the area. Mike’s immediate reply was, “Why? We can take them.”

Sea days are spa days as far as I am concerned and my massage therapist, the small and mighty Myla, damn near killed me. It was great. Lactic acid be gone! She did try to sell me on a system for puffiness and bags around the eyes, but as I explained to her, until I stop oral chemotherapy ain’t nothing gonna change.

We all went to the jazz brunch in the dining room late morning and dined on eggs Benedict, shrimp, every breakfast food you could imagine, assorted smoked fish, roasted turkey, chicken and lamb, ratatouille, assorted vegetable dishes, myriad salads, desserts and fruit. My Weight Watchers leader Maggie always says that the food on your plate at a buffet should look like islands, not continents. My plate looked like Africa, India and most of Western Europe. Steve’s was the same, only it existed entirely of chocolate desserts and pork sausage. We sat with a view of one chef who was in front of a large display of fruit, and was cutting it to order. The majority of what he was preparing was papaya, which contains an enzyme helpful in digestion. I noticed many of the guests he was serving rubbing their tummies as they asked him for some. To quote Tony Soprano, the quantity and types of food on this ship “could clog a wood chipper”. Our cruise director announced that tonight’s dinner at the informal restaurant was the popular Indian buffet, or as he referred to them, the national dishes of England.

The cruise director, Eric De Gray, is a multi talented Canadian whose resume includes figure skating, singing, dancing and comedy. His evening show was memorable, for some more than others, particularly for the several audience members he shanghaied into his performance. He admitted to being 6’ 6”, and I asked him later if that included the hair. “No hair, flat footed,” was his reply. He ducks a lot on this ship. He has also published a book of lessons from his grandfather, not to be confused with “S*&% My Dad Says”, but still pretty funny, at least what he’s shared with us.

It felt like a night in a hammock, as we were outside of the port of Monaco but still bouncing around a bit. I slept like a baby.

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Deborah

Tomorrow: Monaco and White Night