The South Pacific

November 5th, 2006 Onboard the Pacific Star, somewhere in the South Pacific
It’s the wee hours of the morning and the waves are gently rocking the ship and I’m starting to feel a little drowsy. Or perhaps that’s nausea. Can’t say for sure.
I awoke Saturday morning at half past 8 in order to have my bag that I’m leaving behind outside for the truck to haul away. But all did not go smoothly. The zipper on my large and overloaded suitcase has finally had enough and called it quits, divorcing itself from the rest of the bag. It’s an unfortunate separation, considering this marriage kept the family inside together and safe. Kinda ticked me off. If only airline employees would take better care of passengers’ luggage. We return to Brisbane for a day-and-a-half after the cruise, and I know what I’ll be shopping for! Because right now the only things holding that bag together are a piece of rope and some masking tape.
At 10:15 we boarded the bus and drove to another point on the river where the large Pacific Star cruise ship was waiting. Ray, Rich’s dad, was able to come with us on this excursion. Heather was not coming, because Claire was too young, which is part of the reason Amy flew over to be with her. The rain came tumbling down as we stood in line to check luggage and get boarding cards and show passports and the like. There are two things I don’t like about traveling: all the paperwork and all the money. It’s unfortunate these two things constitute a lot of traveling. Once everything was taken care of, we walked through what kind of looked like a plastic tunnel onto the ship.
It’s pretty impressive. I’ve been on a ship over the Mediterranean from Greece to Israel, and it was a nice boat/ferry. But this is the real deal. Almost every level (and there are 11) has a luxurious lounge. There are souvenir shops and an art gallery. The ship also contains a library, Internet café, three swimming pools, a hairdresser, a fitness center, and a medical center. The sip is 672.5 feet in length and is 85.3 feet in width. It rises to a height of 47.8 meters above the water line, and sinks to 7 meters below. The total passenger capacity is 1,350, and there are 520 crew members. All of our rooms are on the 6th level. I’m in a room with Darren and Pierre. The rooms are very comfortable and come equipped with a T.V. and telephone. I noticed that Titanic and The Poseidon Adventure were not included in the movie selections.
Lunch was served buffet-style on the 9th level. This food is amazing, and if I’m not careful and diligent, I will have come on this boat as a passenger and will leave as cargo. I then walked around, touring the many facilities of this fine vessel. I’m amazed at how much they can fit on this thing.
I actually took a nap for a little while as we drifted away from the harbor and sailed out of the Brisbane River into the big blue wet thing. I returned to wandering aimlessly through the ship before coming back to napping. This exchange went on for some time. The reasons are unclear.
Each night dinner is served in the Bordeaux Dining Room on the 4th level. Our group is in the first sitting at 5:45. The dress for this evening was “smart casual.” Ms. Pam told us some people would just be going in what they wore when they boarded, but I knew a few people in the group would be dressing up. I kept the blue jeans and boots on, but discarded the beat-up brown hoody (or is it hoodie?) for a white dress shirt and my sports coat. As I emerged from my cabin, the model comments ensued once more. I’m beginning to see them as some sick game to torment me. Either that or I’ve missed my true calling in life. Although, “there is more to life than being really, really, really, ridiculously good-looking (I quote Ben Stiller’s character from the hilarious movie Zoolander).” Pierre, Darren, Felicity, and I were all pre-assigned to table number 4. Sachin from India was our friendly waiter, and was seemingly disappointed when we failed to realize that his name was the same as a famous cricketeer’s. We don’t get a lot of cricket in the U.S. The meal was delicious. I enjoyed roast prime rib with fruit and a potato. Life on a ship ain’t too bad. There’s something exotic and exciting about it.
After dinner, Heidi, Darren, Felicity, and I wandered around before find ourselves in the Pacific Show Lounge where some sort of song-and-dance show was being performed. It was a very well-done production, although some of the routines were a little shady. Some of it was quite entertaining and it was an interesting taste of the nightlife on the boat. At 10, in the same room, the movie RV was being shown, so we returned after changing. I watched it on the plane to L.A. in August, but I enjoyed it much more this time. The headphones on the plane kind of detract from sound.
I’m sitting now at the desk in the room. The other guys are asleep, which is where I would like to be. The boat is rocking a bit more significantly now. Hopefully, instead of making me stain my sheets, it’ll rock me to sleep.
I think this next week is going to be an exciting, fun, and adventurous time. Tomorrow is a full day at sea. We don’t encounter land until Monday afternoon.

November 6th, 2006 Onboard the Pacific Star, somewhere in the South Pacific
Yesterday I got up around 9 and, after showering, made my way upstairs. In the Starlight Lounge a church service was being held. Rich and Ms. Pam were in and I sat beside them. Captain Stefano Ravera of Italy led the service.
I did a lot of walking around in the morning until I was roped into attending a dance class in the Pacific Show Lounge. First was ballroom dancing, which I had done before. It was Katie Pagett’s birthday, so for a sort of present I danced with her. Healthy, wholesome dancing is pretty fun, I must say. The next class was salsa, and we were cutting some rugs at this point.
Lunch was again buffet-style. I returned to walking about before settling in the Pacific Show Lounge to watch Over the Hedge. I napped for quite some time before preparing for the Captain’s welcome aboard party at 5. This time, I put on the full costume. It isn’t all that bad wearing a suit, but after a while I begin to want my t-shirt and blue jeans. In the Pacific Show Lounge, Captain Ravera welcomed us on the Pacific Star and introduced some of the higher-ranking officers onboard. A jazz trio played in the background. Dinner followed soon afterwards and we descended to level 4. Pierre switched with Heidi some she and Darren could sit with one another. The meal was again delicious, and we chatted with Sachin throughout the evening.
Heidi, Darren, Jennifer, Felicity, and I went to a room and played some board game called Settlers. We actually didn’t get very far, because Failure to Launch came on T.V. and a certain number of our group was sucked in. The game never recovered.
That night I slowly walked around, standing on the deck, enjoying the sea breeze blowing through my hair and the waves rocking the boat. In the Starlight Lounge was live music and dancing and I went in there for a little while to soak up the atmosphere. A very lively night of karaoke was being held in the Casablanca Lounge. I leaned against a column, wincing at the butchering of many good songs. Pierre actually did a fairly good job with Creed’s “One Last Breath.” He told us later that he now knew what it was like to be famous: everyone was supposedly crowding him and praising his talents, and he said it was getting a little old. Oh, the life of a star. I was told to get up there, but I just don’t have the guts I suppose. After awhile I slipped away. Something about drunks stumbling over themselves on a boat trying to sing just doesn’t appeal to me. Don’t ask me why, because you’d be surprised at how many people this does appeal to. Unfortunate.

It was again around 9 when I awoke. My alarm has been going off at 8:30 but I just couldn’t bring myself to get up at that time. Thirty extra minutes helps, I don’t care what people say. I found my way to the gym on the 10th level and hopped on one of the treadmills. Thirty minutes on one of those things seems a lot longer than actually going somewhere. I’d rather be running outside and letting my feet take me somewhere than just standing still. It did provide a good view of one of the decks and the sea behind it.

(written November 7th, 2006 in the early hours of the morning)
Another dance class was taking place, but I was late, not having known there was one. I rested for a spell in the room. One of the channels on the T.V. is a black screen, but it plays jazz music. I’m a big fan of jazz, so I sat and listened to it for awhile. It’s actually playing as I write. I ate a light lunch of assorted fruits at the buffet on Level 9, and then returned to my cabin. The Matador, with Pierce Brosnan, was playing and I had wanted to see it. It’s a very interesting dark comedy, and he does an excellent job at shedding the James Bond image. A few times the channel needed to be changed. Tonight, the movie being shown in the Pacific Show Lounge is The Da Vinci Code. It would have been an opportune time to see it, because it was free and I wouldn’t have to waste money to watch it. But, I had such a good day today I didn’t want to ruin it by thinking about how much of an idiot Dan Brown is. If you’re going to write historical fiction, the history part actually needs to resemble history in some way. I’ve done quite a bit of research on the book so I can hold an intelligent conversation about it, and I really don’t see a need to entertain myself with something like that. The Matador did have some questionable parts, yes, but the channel could be changed. A movie whose soul purpose is to mock and question (and not that questioning is bad, but when you do so with false information and bias…) my beliefs is not necessarily a movie I need to spend two-and-a-half hours of my life watching, even if Ron Howard directed it and Tom Hanks, Ian McKellen, and Paul Bettany are in it. I don’t see anyone making a film that belittles and demeans Mohammed, or promotes the ludicrous and appalling idea that the Holocaust didn’t happen. And now we’ll hear what my colleague, Roger Ebert, had to say about it.
At around 2 we could see the harbor of Noumea of New Caledonia very well. I went up on deck to watch our approach. By 3 we had docked and everyone began hurrying down the gangplank. The archipelago of New Caledonia was pretty much unknown by European standards until the French navigator Louis de Bougainville saw them in 1768. Six years later, Captain James Cook landed on one of the islands while traveling to New Zealand. He called the place “New Caledonia,” which is the Latin name for Scotland, because the pine-clad ridges were reminiscent of the far north of Britain. A base for the U.S. during WWII, it is now a French protectorate, so I once again stepped into France, albeit a little far away from Western Europe. Noumea is the capital of New Caledonia, located on the island called Grande Terre. The entire grouping of islands has a population around 200,000, with 80,000 in Noumea itself.
Patrick and I were heading for the war memorial. Patrick’s granddad was actually stationed here during WWII after his ship was sunk off Guadalcanal. We were joined by Will. We walked down the street of the rather not-so-impressive city (which reminded in some ways of Ramallah, in the occupied territory of the West Bank) to Coconut Square where we hopped on a bus. It took us out of the city and down the coastline. We exited at the stop for Quin Tero, which is where the memorial was. We climbed up the steep hill to find….nothing. There was no memorial. An elder gentleman in his mid-70s was walking around and I asked him where the memorial was. He answered in a distinctive French accent, saying the memorial was actually back in the city. On the top of this hill, he said, were guns from WWII. He then offered to drive us to the top. I overlooked the possibility that this man was going to kidnap and kill us and jumped in the front sea. The other guys must have tossed out this idea, seeing as how they got in the back. At the top were several large guns pointed out to sea. Our new friend, whose name was Gaston Bon, offered to take us across the island to where even older guns were situated and to some old convict buildings. How could we not acquiesce? So we did.
Monsieur Bon was born on the island of Vanuatu and raised here in the South Pacific. He studied engineering in Paris, where he met his wife of forty-three years. He worked in Noumea for twenty-some years doing engineering and the like before teaching at a technical institute, which we passed during our drive. I asked him if he really had the time to be driving us around.
“Ahhh, I’m retired,” he said with a shrug and a smile. “And if I go home, my wife will make me do something.”
We stopped in the town at the war memorial. Half a sphere protruded from the ground, lined on the far side by several pillars adorned with a portion of the image of the American flag. We then headed away from the city into those pine-clothed ridges which had impressed Captain Cook so long ago. We entered an old dirt road that wound its way up a hill. This, Monsieur Bon informed us, was a place where no tourists came, because buses couldn’t maneuver through there.
“The only people who come,” he said chuckling, “are strange people like me who bring tourists with them.”
At the summit, cutting into the hill, were several pathways enshrouded in trees. Sticking out from the branches were the old guns from 1850. No one else was going to make it up here. This is the way to get around. Our friendly guide produced a flashlight from the trunk of his car and led us to an opening in the rock of the hill. It led into a tunnel which carved its way beneath the earth. Several rooms were along this road in which American troops slept when they were stationed at this lookout point. Let me repeat this- we went into a tunnel underground!
We drove down the road to a point where we could see the beach where the convicts arrived and lived in huts. The port was still visible in ruins. Each time we went to spot and spent some time looking, taking pictures and receiving information, Monsieur Bon would say, “Voila. Now we go.” He took us back into Noumea to the Post Office so we could have our passports stamped, but unfortunately it was closed. By this time it was past 5, so we he took us to the harbor. I asked if we could pay him, and he scoffed at the idea.
“I love to take Americans around because of what they did for us in the war.”
I didn’t do anything for him, but he certainly did a lot for us, and I daresay we had the best trip out of the entire 1,300 people. I’ve been smiling the rest of the day. Will said he was going to hang out with me with from now on, seeing as how all the cool stuff supposedly happens to me. I saw an older man and had a question, and from there a remarkable memory was formed.
The attire for the night was smart casual, so I again donned blue jeans and the white shirt and jacket. Dinner was French in flavor and was again pretty darn good. Heidi, Darren, Felicity, and I retired to the 8th level where I was taught to play Spades in the “Card Corridor.” I am supposedly becoming a more well-rounded, and ultimately a better person, because I am learning card games. That’s a load off my shoulders.
One floor up, on one of the deck, was live music, old-school rock-and-roll. Dancing had begun. It’s fun to watch those who actually know what they’re doing mixed with those who are flailing themselves in what the great show Seinfeld would classify as a “full-body heave.”
Tomorrow begins early. I have to run and be somewhere at 8:45 to pick up a ticket to hitch a ride on a boat which will take us ashore. Another day awaits us in France, the South Pacific.

November 7th, 2006 Onboard the Pacific Star, somewhere in the South Pacific
I was going to get up early this morning and run, but I just didn’t have it in me. I was pretty tuckered out. I awoke a little after 8 and went up to the sight of the island of Lifou before me. Heidi, Darren, and I went to the Starlight Lounge to wait for Felicity and Katie to pick up tickets for the boats to shore. The port was far too small to accommodate such a large ship, so what were referred to as tender boats shuttled people across the tropical island. The two girls were pretty late arriving, so we missed the first boat, and then the two of them missed the second one the three of us were on because they were slow in walking down the stairs.
A light rain was falling as we motored the distance to the wooden dock. A market under a large pavilion welcomed us as we arrived. Lifou, while part of New Caledonia, is the largest of what are known as the Loyalty Islands. It was certainly less Caledonian than Noumea, appearing much more like what one would expect of a South Pacific island. We followed a path through the jungle to palm-treed area on the shore. A wooden staircase led down into a small cove. Two local men were swiftly climbing up the palm trees, gathering coconuts and hacking them open with machetes for the people who walked nearby. We bashed our own open and it wasn’t all that appealing. On the way back down the path, we took a slight detour into the trees to a large rock wall. Vines and trees dangled from the crags and crevices in the stone. So, Darren and I shed our backpacks and began scaling the wall by way of the vines. It wasn’t very far to the top, but it was still pretty cool to go climbing with vines.
We walked along the shore on the other side of the dock and found a little path which led to the top of a hill, on which a tall cross spread itself before the open sea. Inland was a very French-style church, built in 1898. We climbed a staircase inside to where a long wooden pole reached up into the bell tower. Darren shimmied up it, almost dying in the process. Well, not really, but it makes it more exciting. At least he would have died in a church. Do you get points for that?
Katie desired to walk down the road to the right of the church to view the houses. This was a sparsely populated section of the island with only a few cars passing by as we went. We were led by a dog that emerged from one of the houses. It seemed to have difficulty controlling its bladder, because it whizzed every twenty seconds. I think it may have been marking its territory, letting us know where we could and couldn’t go. Or it just hadn’t been potty-trained.
We then went on the road to the left of the church, which led past the dock and became a good little hike up a hill. The three girls ditched Darren and me (without telling us, by the way), so the two of us were the only ones to get to see the beautiful Notre Dame de Lourdes. It was a small church, faded in color, and it seemed to be made out of the same bleached material as the other church. On the top stood a statue of Mary, her hands folded in prayer. There wasn’t much inside, but it didn’t really matter. This church was perched atop a hill with a magnificent view of the island. Too bad there were so many people around.
Darren and I caught a boat back to the ship and met the girls at the buffet for lunch. We then headed back to the island. Hey, you take a free meal when you can, especially when the only other option is fermented coconuts. The sun was out by the time we arrived. We walked to the right of the dock, away from the majority of people, to a little grassy area above a short drop by way of limestone rocks to the water. Abby and Chesley were there, so we dropped our stuff by them. I ran and jumped off the ledge, not realizing exactly how shallow the water actually was. Good thing I didn’t dive. The ledge from which I jumped lipped over small caves. The clear green water softly rushed into them and I sat in one for awhile, looking out at the sea. Abby, Katie, Darren, and I swam down the coast a little ways, exploring some of the caves and just enjoying the water.
Heidi, Abby, and Chesley soon returned to the ship, followed soon afterwards by Darren and then Felicity. Katie and I sat on the grassy ledge as the rain began to fall, talking about the trip and people and the cruise. We then grabbed our stuff and headed back to the Pacific Star. I went up to the gym to run for around fifteen minutes, but all three treadmills were being used and I really didn’t feel like sitting around waiting. Besides, it was around thirty minutes to 4, and I was going to go to line dancing class, good ole’ country dancin’. It was pretty fun. I didn’t end up utilizing my newfound skill by going to the hoedown this evening, but I guess I have it logged away for future reference. I went ahead and got dressed for the evening. It was again smart casual, but instead of wearing the sports jacket I donned my brown jacket. I had missed it a little bit. Heidi, Darren, and I went up to the Starlight and found the game Clue at the library. Derek was there, so he played with us. Dinner was once again very good. Sachin was interested in ways we Americans greet one another, so we went through “Howdy,” “How are you?” and “Whassup?” I think he found the last one pretty amusing, because he said it to me as he checked on us throughout the meal. Heidi, Darren, Felicity, and I went to the card corridor and played a round or two of Clue before making it just in time for “Dance,” the show for the evening. A few of the routines were a little racy, which I thought was unnecessary, but the best part of the evening was the Riverdance segment to techno Celtic music.
The four of us booked a tour for tomorrow at Vanuatu and then went up to the buffet for coffee, tea, and more Clue. All of us were pretty tired once we finished. It was a little after 10, but we’ve all been staying up a little late and participating in a lot of different activities. Darren and I were up talking fairly late last night. He’s conked out now. The jazz channel is on, but right now it’s playing something with what sounds like a Spanish guitar. I like it.

November 9th, 2006 Onboard the Pacific Star, somewhere in the South Pacific
I got up pretty early in order to be on time for our tour in the morning. We weren’t sure of the exact time we needed to be onshore, so we overcompensated by getting up early. The tickets had been slid under our doors during the night and we didn’t need to be at the blue tent aft of the ship until 9. I walked down the ramp of the ship into the country of Vanuatu, making it my 25th country. Felicity, Katie, Heidi, Darren, and I arrived at the designated spot to find that our tour had been cancelled due to a rockslide. Why me?
We began trudging into the town of Port Vila. A trunk with a bed-load of people drove passed and the driver offered to chauffeur us into town. We hopped in and sped along the road. At one point a truck going in the opposite direction stopped us. A multitude of guys dressed in Hawaiian-style shirts, who were sitting in the back of the truck, began yelling at our driver angrily. A man who appeared to be a policeman began speaking with our driver. I assumed it was a bunch of taxi drivers ticked off at our guy for stealing their business. Katie said you can’t pay for experiences like this. She’s right: we didn’t.
We began walking around the main street, peeking into the shops. I couldn’t find a patch anywhere. I was saved by Will, who found a store somewhere that carried them and got one for me, figuring I wouldn’t find one. Sweet. Outside one of the shops a woman in a colorful purple dress handed us sheets of paper and asked us to fill them out. The papers concerned our reasons for visiting Vanuatu; she was taking classes to become an education teacher and this was one of her assignments. Our other interesting encounter happened later. I left the group for a minute to find Katie, who was trying to get money. When I returned, a man and a woman were standing in front of the other three with two video cameras and a microphone. The man wore a Star of David around his neck. They were asking Heidi and Felicity about our ship and if we knew that our captain was giving orders to dump tons of oil in Vanuatu, destroying the ecosystem. We, of course, had heard nothing about this. I began to wonder if it was true, considering the strict rules and regulations that have to be followed in order to sail one of these ships. The man then pulled out a newspaper sheet, citing an article that proved what he said was true. I looked over his shoulder and noticed that it wasn’t an article at all: it was an excerpt from the letter column of a newspaper, which I would say is slightly more likely to be opinionated. It what they said was true, than it’s tragic and just wrong. But they can’t prove it, and they did a poor job in convincing me. But maybe I’m just being skeptical.
The archipelago of the country of Vanuatu consists of eighty-two separate islands, with a population somewhere around 182,000. The town of Port Vila is located on Efate Island, situated somewhere in the center of the grouping of islands. For a long time, parts of the islands were controlled by the British, and the others by the French. In 1906, the Germans were snatching quite a bit of the South Pacific, so the Brits and French decided to join together and put their flags side by side. This led to things like two languages (as well as the local dialects), two jails, two police forces, and so on. It wasn’t until 1980 that Vanuatu became independent.
We walked the forty minutes or so back to the ship for lunch. We were fortunate to get another tour, which left at 12:30. Pierre joined us, and we were the only ones on the tour. We pulled out of the harbor and headed inland towards the Cascading Waterfalls. There we met our guide named Ani (I assume that’s how he spelled it) who led us up the mountain, passing streams and naturally made swimming pools of clear water. We detoured to a beautiful lookout of the jungle below and the sea beyond. This was a tropical island. This is what I saw when I thought of the South Pacific. As we walked, I talked with Ani about the history of Vanuatu. He was a really cool island kinda guy, friendly and always smiling.
We finally came to our destination. In the middle of the trees was a series of short waterfalls and pools. Stairs had been carved into the stone leading up to them. This was a really cool place to swim. There were caves in the some of the rocks and ledges from which to jump. I, of course, had to find the biggest one. One of the drop-offs was in the form a slide which led into one of the deeper pools. After several times of the usual feet-first, I began going down face-first. On the second run I kept my head a little too close to the face of the rock and right before I hit the water I banged my head incredibly hard against the smooth stone. I entered the water and everything seemed to be shaking and stumbling. I’m pretty sure I had a concussion. My head was pounding for the rest of the day. It still hurts a little bit. I sat still for a few minutes before we began walking back down. I decided not to surf down as I had planned.
Back down they had refreshments, such as fruit grown in the area. Seven or eight guys played guitars and drums and other instruments and sang island songs. We then hopped back in the bus and headed back to the boat. I sat on the edge of my bed for a little while, trying to let my head settle. I went up to the gym and ran a hard fifteen minutes, which didn’t exactly settle my headache. Rich wanted me to go see the doctor, but it would’ve have been really expensive and I was feeling a little better.
“I was stumbling a little bit earlier,” I said, “but now I think it’s just the boat.”
“Uh, well, the boat’s not moving,” Rich said.
Dinner was Italian, and it was really good. The four of us then went to one of the rooms and played a few rounds of Clue before going to the 10 o’clock showing of Mission: Impossible III. Then, I went to bed.

My alarm went off at 8:30 this morning, but I shut it off and slept another hour and twenty minutes. I took a shower and walked around a few minutes. It was raining up on deck, so I went back to the room and relaxed. A little before 12 I got some lunch and met Heidi, Darren, and Felicity in my room to watch Munich. Derek joined us. That movie is one of my favorites. This is when film isn’t entertaining, but it’s important to watch. It’s actually pretty depressing, and now my head hurts even more.
I sat on my bed for a little while, attempting to wish away my headache. Eventually, when it didn’t leave, I got up and went to the gym to run. I ran for thirty minutes at a pretty fast pace. The good thing about a treadmill is setting a good pace, because if you can’t keep up, you get shot off the thing. I broke a good sweat, so I was happy.
For awhile we flipped through the channels and then it was time for dinner. It was formal night, so I transformed in James Bond again, except I let Greer borrow my tie, so I went open-necked, which is infinitely more comfortable. Sachin was accommodating as usual, and the Beef Wellington was delicious. The four of us retired to the card corridor and I was taught a new game entitled Cards. We then went to the Pacific Show Lounge for what was the last show called “G’Day G’Day”, a sort of tribute to Australians and New Zealanders. It was a lot less shady than the others, and I really enjoyed it.
The rest of the evening has been a little of this and that. I went walking around for awhile. Katie and I went out on the deck and talked about life, the trip, people on the trip, people not on the trip, and so on. It was a really good conversation and it was very nice outside. The champagne fountain was in the Bordeaux Restaurant where we have dinner. A mountain of glasses was filled as bottles were poured over them. At the moment, I am sitting in the card corridor with Felicity who is scrapbooking. We have been joined by Chesley and Troy, who is the Assistant Cruise Director or something like that. In his late twenties, this Canadian joined the army at 17 and fought in Kosovo in ’98-’99. Of the 151 countries in the world (the number Troy gave), he’s been to over 100 of them, and he’s 26 years old. I was a little jealous. He then went to music school (he’s part of the jazz trio onboard) and has been the music director at Dollywood. He’s now working on the cruise ship and will be doing so for a few more months until his house is paid off. He bought us drinks (non-alcoholic drinks), so that was cool.
We get to set our clocks back an hour tonight. Another hour of sleep!

November 11th, 2006 Bridgewater Apartments, Brisbane, Australia
Derek joined us in room 6027 because Kevin Larey suddenly became very sick and subsequently barfed all over the room. That’s not a good feeling at all, and not a good smell, which is probably why Derek moved out. Darren, Derek, and I stayed up into the wee hours discussing doing the right thing no matter what and how interesting it is that some people decided to choose the dumbest things as their source of fun. It is a sad and confusing world in which we live.
My alarm sounded at 9:30 and I shut it off to sleep a bit more. I didn’t awake for another two hours. And it was glorious. It was purely an accident, and I wasn’t complaining. I was up in time to go with Darren, Heidi, and Felicity to the Bordeaux Restaurant for lunch. We sat with two older ladies and a boisterous couple (well, I should say the lady was boisterous) in their 50s or 60s. They were all from Australia and had traveled extensively in the Americas, Europe, and Australasia. They were all certainly well-to-do, because their traveling experiences seemed to be a little bit on the more comfortable side. They were all very pleasant and we had an enjoyable meal talking and laughing. We discussed American politics and what they describe as the “psychotic Republicans and the crazy Democrats.” I think we all agreed (at least I and our Australian friends) that we should get rid of all of them and start over.
We continued are never-ending card-playing (which I admit I now enjoy doing) and then returned to one of the rooms to watch North Country, a fictionalized account of the first successful lawsuit filed by a woman against her employers at a mining company for sexual harassment. It was depressing movie, well-made, but one that made me mad. People refusing to stand up for what’s right ticks me off, and I also wanted to beat the snot out of some of the miners.
After the movie I went to the gym and ran hard for twenty minutes. I had fifteen minutes to get ready, so hopped in and out of the shower, barely getting wet, and arrived just in time. It was actually fairly sad. These meals, and our wonderful waiter Sachin, have been very enjoyable. I was, however, ready to get off the boat. Concussions and swaying don’t go well together. The rocking had been especially severe and I was feeling somewhat nauseous. As we finished and said farewell to our Indian friend, we once again returned to the card corridor on the 8th level and played more cards. We then turned to Clue, which I finally won, and on my first guess.
At 10, in the Pacific Show Lounge, was a talent show, and our friend Darren was taking part. He sang “Come Sail Away” by Styx, and it was absolutely hilarious! It was an electrifying performance, with the usually quiet and self-contained Darren bursting out of his shell and he held the crowd in the palm of his hand. He was the only one who received a standing ovation. An older gentleman did an excellent job with Frank Sinatra’s classic “My Way.” I’m not a big fan of this song: it’s pretty individualistic, and very American in its point of view. I’m not sure we’re supposed to do things “my way.” It could be argued that God’s way is my way, but I think there are a few things in the lyrics which contrast with this. Change some of the words, and it could be a very meaningful song.
I watched karaoke for a few minutes before getting sick of it. I can only take so much horridness. And I felt like I was wasting my life, so I left. I walked up on deck and stood in the dark. The moon was visible through a translucent cloud covering, turning one area of the darkness into silver. Ahead of us I could see the small lights of the coast of Australia.

The morning came early. I got up a little after 6:30 and got my things ready. We had sent our suitcases out the night before, so we didn’t have that to worry about. I forewent a shower and went to eat a few croissants for breakfast. The usual four of us went to the Starlight Lounge and played cards until our card color (gold) was called on the loudspeaker. It took a few minutes to pass through security and find our bags, but we were soon outside and on the bus once again.
It was nice to be on solid ground once again, and I was glad to be at the apartments. We arrive before 10, so we still had the whole day left. Laundry was first on the list, because my plastic bag was stuffed full and it was nasty. The stink is rotating in the washer as I write.
I’m not sure what the rest of this day will hold. I’m feeling a nap and a movie maybe. One week from today, I will in Jellico, Tennessee, the United States, on the other side of the world. Wow.