…It is not measured by how tall it could be, but by how deep the roots have grown.
Life is cruel sometimes, sucker-punching you in the gut and heart. I refrain from saying ‘when you least expect it’ because nobody expects to have their heart broken. This past Friday, as has become custom, I went to visit my friends Sharon and Pete, for a weekly catch-up over supper, after which we’d watch Survivor Australia (debating who we think should go – both Pete and I were rooting for George), followed by Voetspore. Throughout, we’d chat about all sorts of things, laughing and joking, delighting in the wonderful joy of friendship.
Jack Frost’s icy breath followed us from Walvis Bay. So much so, that I put on my body warmer, which didn’t mean much because I didn’t have long-sleeved clothes with me. Peeps, pack at least one long-sleeved item, because when the wind blows, it leaves you with gooseflesh and aching bones. I tried to smile for a photo, but my teeth literally hurt from the cold.
Having had zero luck at winning at Trivia, I decided to try my hand at something different, a fun game called Name that Tune, which involves a person recognizing the intro of a song, running to a chair, naming the song and then having to bust out their best dance moves. I won a lanyard playing the first time (on Deck 13 in the blustery weather), and a MSC cap when I played again in the afternoon in the Savannah Bar. I also tried my hand at ring toss and the sushi game. That former is exactly what the name suggests, the latter involves picking up a golf ball with two putters and carrying it a certain distance without dropping it. #easiersaidthandone The thing about all these quick activities is that they generate interaction between guests who otherwise may never have struck up a conversation with each other, and of course, the laughter that resounds across the ship because people are having oodles of fun. I’ll let you in on a little secret: The intro to The Final Countdown and Blind Lights sound almost identical.
Before we knew it, it was time for lunch at Shanghai.
It seldom happens that I wake up before The Toppie. But I did on Day 2 of our cruise AND I went upstairs to the buffet to get coffee for us to enjoy in the room. Despite booking the Fantastica experience (which allowed for breakfast in our cabin), we never got any forms to fill in for the benefit. It would have been nice to have had breakfast in the cabin even if it was just once.
As I mentioned in my previous post, I was determined to see the sunrise, and I was not disappointed! There is something magical about first light, especially when it is combined with the swish-swash of the waters as the ship cuts through them.
I haven’t cruised with any other line other than MSC, nor have I cruised anywhere but in Southern African waters. My first cruise experience was aboard the MSC Melody, which at the time, was the largest vessel in the fleet. MSC Cruises has grown exponentially, with each new ship adding something bigger and better to the cruising menu.
This is a somewhat disjointed post, but an update of current events in my life.
I love this time of the year, even on gloomy grey days like today. I embrace the cooler temperatures with joy because my internal thermostat has been faulty ever since Granny fell of the bus.
I’ve been relieving in reception since March 6th, due to the regular lady being off sick. I’m enjoying it, because I get to see the trees dancing in the wind and the birdsong is glorious. There was one calling earlier this week that had me mesmerised, but sadly, I couldn’t spot it. I’m a lot of things – an ornithologist is not one of them.
I must vacate The Cave by the 31st, which is still a week and some days away, but this moving in installments has me at my wits’ end, so two angels from my day job are going to come and help me pack the last ‘kaggel kakkies’, and then we’re going to hunker down and give the place a good clean. If all goes according to plan, maybe I can finalize the move by the end of the weekend – here’s hoping!
Being a sentimental person by nature, it is incredibly difficult to part with the possessions that friends have given me, but I’ve had to be ruthless in getting rid of the excess. I’ve donated clothes and some small appliances to a family that lost their home in a fire, and I’ve put a lot of stuff in the trash, and still, I have too much stuff. I am learning the lesson now, at the ripe age of forty-something, that it isn’t necessary to have five pairs of black pants or a wristwatch to match almost every outfit or two and a half dozen champagne flutes – although granted, if I do live the life I’m destined to, I will be sipping Mimosas with my besties for breakfast, lunch and supper dahling.
As many of you will know from my previous post, I am packing up The Cave after living there for almost ten years to move back to my folks because Dad is ill, although coping very well – something for which we’re all very grateful.
In the clean-up, I came across a postcard that Charlie sent me for my birthday one year, while he was sailing in Alaska. It read “Hello there, from the other side of the planet. Happy birthday. I hope you get a jam-filled cake.” I read it, smiled, reminisced for a moment, and then placed it in a bag with other papers for recycling. After all, it’d been years since our paths split. He got married last year on October 8th Shannon, the blonde American who swept him off his feet in just three days of meeting him. He felt bad, but ‘the heart wants what the heart wants’. When I happened upon the wedding photos on her Insta (it wasn’t difficult to track her down), I finally summoned the will to delete our entire chat history of almost two years, along with his number. I felt an inexplicable numbness, a tiny tinge of horror, and a pinch of relief. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the feelings I was having, weren’t ‘it’.