Third Day Afloat and some general comments

Well, I cut way back on my eating and drinking on our second full day on the water. The combination of new contact lenses, a little more rolling of the ship, and a second day of three flutes of champagne (they're always offering you alcohol here for free, in a lot of locations -- although microbrews and mixed drinks in the actual pubs and lounges do cost money) left me a little queasy last night. So I ate lightly for breakfast and lunch, and have had no booze today. But I plan to do karaoke in another hour, so I'll probably have to buy a pint just to keep the host pub happy.

Today Carole and I watched a planetarium show about cosmic collisions narrated by Robert Redford, and at 2:30 we saw the Kennedy (not Lincoln -- sorry!) Center Chamber Players play a Beethoven trio in B flat major, op. 11, for piano, clarinet, and cello; and a Mozart clarinet quintet in A major, K.581. "Saw" is probably an inaccurate term in the latter case, because I listened with my eyes closed for the most part and possibly dozed a little too, but it was a lovely concert. Then I saw a lecture with digital video about the history of newsreels: the lecturer Robert Marshall is the grandson of a newsreel cameraman who shot Lindbergh's takeoff in 1927 and a lot of b&w (as well as personal color) footage of the D-Day landing and liberation of Paris. We also saw historic footage shot by Edison in his Black Maria, the crash and burn of the Hindenberg, etc. Very interesting. The RADA kids read poetry at 7:45 p.m.

Our tour expert, Giles Ramsey, lectured this morning on the Greek theater and Mystery (Miracle and Morality) plays. He's very good: highly knowledgeable and an entertaining speaker. Today's nuggets included: "Euripides was the Ibsen of his day -- he writes great roles for women, and he undermines the society he lives in and writes about." "Charlemagne reboots Western civilization," although "the Holy Roman Empire was neither holy nor Roman nor an empire...." "Never think of the past as a primitive place; the past was always the present, and it was always cutting edge." I want to hear all about his career, and I'm curious to see whether he asks me about mine, or whether he's afraid I'll ask him for work.

Every day in the late afternoon while we're at dinner, someone tidies up our room and sets two chocolates, a news summary, and the next day's "Programme" on our bed. The latter has everything that is scheduled for the following day, from the lectures and films and concerts down to the computer trainings, AA meeting, Catholic mass, darts competition, trivia contest in the pub, and specials at the Canyon Ranch spa. (I hadn't heard of Canyon Ranch before this voyage, either, but it's a very fancy spa resort in Tucson that later established a branch in Lennox, Mass., and a complete condo development in Miami. Their shipboard franchise offers everything from hairdo work to manicures to jacuzzis to a dozen or more different kinds of massage -- Thai, Shiatsu, Swedish, stone, etc.)

Our Elderhostel group has assigned tables at the Britannia restaurant on deck two, among which we have been moving around to try to get to meet all two dozen of the rest of us over dinners. But Carole and I have never gone there for breakfasts or lunches, which I understand are also three-course affairs with many options. Instead, like many others, we opt for the King's Court, which is sort of a fast-food buffet on deck seven, open 24 hours, that has fresh fruits, vegetables, desserts, breads, cheeses, etc., and time-appropriate hot foods set out throughout the day. It's faster so we can dash in and out between activities and much less formal.

The Britannia food is very very good, obviously. Fairly simple, not over-rich, but very well done. They have a lo-cal Canyon Ranch option of courses, but most of us choose from a variety of appetizers, two salads, an entree (I broke my eco-ethical vegetarianism tonight for the duck breast), and a dessert. It's also well-proportioned: you never feel stuffed afterward. (Some passengers stuff themselves mercilessly at the King's Court.)

We've wondered whether an increasing number of empty seats at the restaurant have indicated seasickness on the part of fellow travellers. Carole has been wearing Scopolamine patches to ward off queasiness, and I've been all right. The ship has been rolling and pitching a bit more since yesterday, but apparently that's a function of shallow water (we've been crossing the banks off Newfoundland this afternoon) and if the weather remains all right, we should be too. At a cocktail party on deck seven, a fellow passenger told us one of the maxims of sea travel is "The more you pay, the more you sway"; that is, folks in the more expensive cabins on the upper decks are going to get more motion. (I specifically advised Carole to choose a cabin midships, where we'd be closest to the fulcrum of ship motions and therefore have the smoothest ride.)

Weather was mostly grey yesterday, and partly cloudy and sunny today, but very few passengers have gone out on deck for very long, or even at all, because it's very very windy and there's lots of salt spray (or maybe just salty condensation dripping off the lifeboats and walls) which leaves white spots on your clothing. A few hardy souls jog or power-walk around the decks; three laps is 1.1 miles, I believe. Carole and I have been no exception from the majority; I've gone out briefly (no more than 5 minutes, tops) a couple times to get fresh air.

I did not bring a bathing suit on the trip, but have been tempted to try a massage at the spa. They were all out of bathing suits to purchase, and running shorts in my size, so I ended up buying a pair of woman's large running shorts -- more expensive even than a man's XXL by eight dollars, of course -- with which I may go the massage route (you're pretty much forced to soak and loosen your muscles, then shower first), or at the very least, take a dip in one of the open-air deck pools on the 12th or 13th deck, just to say I did it.

Since this voyage is so professional, so gracious, so perfect, I'm driven to watch for things that don't measure up. I mentioned the wait staff's songs yesterday; another mild annoyance is the hustling of extra goods and services. Cunard photographers took posed photos of all of us just before we boarded ship, and they continue to photograph us, with our permission and sometimes kind of without it, for the purpose of selling us prints later (which of course are tempting but not compulsory). Aside from the permanent brand-name shops on deck three, tables of jewelry, knick-knacks, and artwork get set out in the halls for people to snap up. Another passenger who had been a stock analyst told us Cunard loses money on each trip if more than 10 percent of the cabins are not filled, so these extras (and the drinks and casino -- we'll have to tell you more about that later) are part of the overall strategy for making a profit.

Are there "ugly" Americans or other tourists aboard? There are certainly some overweight ones -- not a lot. But most people who have the money for a trip like this, or those who ponied it up for just once, either know how to behave well or are working hard to be as polite as they can be. The only time other passengers have irritated me is in food lines when elderly folks take a lot of time to move, make decisions, and serve themselves. Otherwise, everyone's been very gracious.