Took a nice morning shower at 7.30, and walked through the cabin to our balcony, wearing nothing but my watch, to savour the warm morning air. I lay on our outside leisure bed but the sky was empty and there were no seabirds or other boats to frighten with my appearance. The outside balcony is of course protected from possible eavesdroppers on the ship. The sea had remained calm throughout our passage through the Red Sea. Mind you there is nothing "red" about the Red Sea. It appears to be blue grey in colour. It seems the name "red" comes from the Greek, who came across the red colour occasionally when dying algae caused the water to change colour. Apparently the Egyptians call this sea the Green Space. It is also the saltiest open sea in the world, because not a single fresh water river flows into it.
I was acutely aware that we were passing not through one but two war zones. On our starboard side was the miserable dictatorship of Eritrea which only recently had won its independence from Ethiopia and was now helping the Ethiopian government to suppress an uprising in Tigray. So many persecuted Eritreans were now finding their way to England on those illegal cross channel boats, with Sue Braverman trying in vain to break human rights laws stop them and the other refugees. On the port side is another continuing sore, the once prosperous country of Yemen, subject currently to a civil war between the Saudi backed government and the Houthi rebels from the Shia minority armed and supported politically by Iran. Mass appeals appear in our British media to help the children of this wartorn country and the misery of the country is compounded by starvation and the breakdown of the local health service. This is the area described on old maps as Arabia Felix, or Happy Arabia. Go figure.
It is some 5 miles off the coast of Yemen that a Yemeni tanker storing crude oil for the the country has been left abandoned for several years and is slowly disintegrating. There is enormous concern that the ship could either break up, or else explode, causing untold damage to the ecology in this narrow passage of the sea. The amount of crude oil that could spill out would be four times the size of the Exxon Valdez off the Alaskan coast some years ago. An oil spill from the tanker would destroy coral reefs and other sea life, decimate the local fishing industry and make it impossible to continue sending food and medical supplies to Yemen through the only route by which they can receive it, namely by sea. The U.N. has been trying to mount a rescue operation but the funds it has raised are still insufficient to hire a rescue ship to draw off the oil and covey it to a safe port, and for a second boat to tow away the empty hulk for scrap.
In the late morning Albina and I went together to hear an introductory talk in the Neptune Theatre on the Indian excursions which Albina will take in a week's time. Following that, we went to the Ocean Lounge for a book signing of the Fred Olsen version of Jules Verne's "Around the World in 80 Days" by the ship's Captain, and three members of his staff. Of course, when we got there there was already a long queue which I joined immediately, while Albina went shopping to take advantage of some bargain sales. I stayed in the queue, a typical good natured chatty British queue, for nearly half an hour. I had the satisfaction very soon after of looking back at the further fifty or so people queueing behind me. It was enjoyable talking to fellow passengers as we waited. Many are seasoned travellers who have been several times to India, or Egypt, or travelled many times on a cruise, or would just be spending the winter months in Spain. However, I often wonder how much that travel has enriched their knowledge of the world. One lady was telling me about her trip by train to Victoria Falls from Johannesberg. As she described her trip she said she could not remember what the the final destination of the train was. "Do you think it might be Cairo?" she asked. "I am not too good on my geography".
As we approached the table at which the ship's team were seated, Albina joined us with her cheeky grin, her shopping bag and her copy of the book. Just to explain, we had one copy each of the book. Sure enough, with a great flourish of his pen, Captain Pineda started signing her book, completing his signature with the ship's stamp. In the meantime I approached Sammi, the Entertainment manager sitting next to him, and gave her my comparative three page schedule of Phileas Fogg's journey when compared to ours. I suggested that during their daily announcements about the ship's progress she, or the Captain, could also record what stage of the journey Fogg had reached that same day in his race to get back to London to win his wager. Sammie sounded enthusiastic about it. She kept the list and added the comment that they will have to find an alternative way of showing the David Niven film version which was cut short two days ago. She made a wry face about it but I reassured that this was only the first thing that had gone wrong on the tour. "It's good if that is the only problem you've had in the great scheme of things," she said. As the head chef signed my book I asked him to add a recipe, which brought a smile to his face. I wonder how many times he had heard that joke from us. With the books signed, we drank tea by the pool and repaired back to our cabin.
We lay on our little private sun deck for an hour. Afterwards, nagged by Albina, I booked a session at the Atlantis Spa to treat my swollen legs. In the meantime I spent an hour reading and soaking in more sun on the Sports Desk and attended a lecture in the Neptune Theatre on the "Magic of India" which should be preparing us for that wide and wild expectation of what India would have to offer, especially to somebody like me going for the first time on a 3 day excursion. Such an extended trip seemed too exhausting for Albina and that is why earlier I had booked her three less arduous day excursions, one in Mumbai, one in Goa and one in Kochi. I noticed that on the day we leave India they are organizing an India night. I wonder if we will take part?
At 6pm I went to the Atlantis Spa for my Foot Soak, Ankle and Foot Massage. A young man took charge, asked me to fill out a sheet with my symptoms and past medical history and subjected me to 45 minutes of relaxing therapy, first by soaking my feet in warm mudddy water, then covering my legs upto my knees with what he called Dead Sea mud and then giving me a delightful massage of my feet and my shins. He suggested a medince I should drink daily for 3 weeks to increase the flow of water in my legs and recommended that I do as much walking as possible. He seemed surprised about the problem with my delayed nosebleeds following use of the gym and suggested I get treatment for that in London after I return. I actually have appointments booked at my local hospital for my nose and for my legs, but I wonder whether the troubled NHS is going to delay them yet again.
I went back to the Theatre to enjoy a spoof session of Who Wants to be a Millionaire? where a contestant, in fact an ex policeman, chosen at random had to answer 15 questions for worthless Olsen vouchers replacing the real prizes. The technical side was quite slick but each time the contestant hesitated and could have given a wrong answer another Olsen technician would flash arrowed prompts as to the real answer. Gradually, as he worked his way up the line of questions, he had used up two of his life lines and only had the "phone a friend" option as he reached the top question, which was to identify the English name for "bos grunniens".. They tried to ring one of his friends called John to answer the question but he failed to answer the phone. The compere then suggested picking a friend from the audience to play the role of John. He asked for a volunteer. I was the only one to put my hand up. So he came running down to me from the stage, still calling me John, and asked me to give an answer. Playing along, I then asked the contestant to read out the question and the four possible answers, even though I could see them quite clearly from where I sat. He then went through the whole rugmarole. In the meantime a small light had flashed earlier by the theird answer - C. yak. As the word "Bos" suggested something bovine and the other options were entirely different anmals I then said "Wll, this is a difficult one, bit I think the answer is "yak". By this time everybody was laughing. The contestant picked up my prompt and won the competition to cheering all round.
After that I returned to Albina. She had retired to bed and I was able to give her painful shin a decent massage. Then I went upstairs for my regular evening quiz night. The special subject was food and drink at which I considered my contribution to the team would be nil. Still I was able to identify marinated fsh with a Germa leader's name with Bismarck herring, and Italian pasta in the form of little tonhues as linguini, so I was not a complete waste of time. We got only 8 poinys out of 15, but the winners only got 10. All relative.
Went to bed remebering to put forward my watch again.
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