Days Nine to Thirteen

Well, I’ve no idea what that was all about. I think it’s the intrinsic boredom of a long cruise that drives the crew to invent curious rituals that make no sense to anyone. Crossing the Line ceremonies are a bit like family tartans – a completely fabricated piece of pseudo-tradition that allows for a lot of shouting, getting dirty, throwing gunge and pushing people into the swimming pool, and none the worse for that!

Now, despite having crossed the equator three days ago, and having been in the tropics for a week, the weather is still cool and cloudy. We’ve had a total of about 4 days of sunshine in fourteen! I blame the cruise line, I know that this is not their fault, but they certainly don’t go out of their way to be loved. Here’s just 5 things they do that put everyone’s backs up:
1. They charge for all drinking water except at mealtimes, yes, even for water to brush your teeth! Tap water tastes foul and is never cold, just in case you wanted to try to drink it.
2. The internet connection is just a smidge faster than dial-up but costs €18 per hour!
3. The ship has its own cinema, but for this 17-day cruise they appear to have brought just 5 movies to show in it. What could have been a real treat is now just a bore and no one bothers to go to see the fourth screening of The A-Team.
4. The standard of food can be described as variable at best. Lunchtime and breakfast buffets haven’t changed in a fortnight. I think we’re all really looking forward to getting ashore in Namibia and eating something different.
5. No TV. The satellite system seemed to go down 9 days ago and hasn’t been fixed since. I’m no news junkie, but I am pretty curious to find out what’s been happening in the World.

And that’s the weirdest sensation of all. For the past 5 days we have been chugging steadily south-southeast across the Atlantic, way beyond sight of land and we haven’t spotted a single other vessel in all that time. I tend to spend at least an hour or two every day on the forward observation deck just gazing out to sea, watching the flying fish jump out of our way and playing Midshipman Hornblower on the Dog Watch, scouring the horizon with my binoculars for signs of French Men-o-War or Somali pirates. Nada.

I started off by seeing if I could meditate on the distant expanse of water, but discovered I couldn’t, so I gaze and think, and think and gaze. I think a lot. A lot of shit, to be honest, but occasionally something interesting pops up.

On a cruise like this I, and everyone else it seems, clicks into major, rabid book readin’. I’ve got through half-a-dozen, which is a lot, even for me. I seem to be less discriminatory too. Please, please believe me when I tell you to avoid 7 Seconds by Jack Harrison. That is some kind of path-fouling, dog poo! Do try Rain Gods by James Lee Burke and the QI Book of General Ignorance. By all means have a go at The Savage Detectives by Roberto Bolaño, but don’t expect to finish it all in one go; no one’s that patient! I’m just about to open up The Year of the Flood by the magnificent Attwood. I’ll get back to you on that one.

The day after tomorrow we arrive in Walvis Bay and Milord and I are debarking to grab a cab and head up the coast to Swakopmund, where the recent remake of the Prisoner was filmed. The architecture sounds odd and impressive and a blast up the Skeleton Coast could be fun.

Now, important matters. The World Champion’s Quiz (please don’t point out the redundant apostrophe, we did that on Day One) concludes tomorrow with Team Mephisto a nail-biting 4 points in the lead going into the final round. Despite expectations, I’m finding that my competitive streak is as nothing compared to several other teams’ attitudes. Poor Question Master Cobus is obviously not as familiar with the dog-eat-dog world of British pub quizzers as he should be. I don’t see him coming out of it with many bollocks left.

Right, time to upload and then head up on deck for a bit more wave watching. If anyone on this boat is going to spot a whale or a Great White shark, it’s gonna be me, dammit!

The next instalment will be coming to you from Namibia. Woo-hoo! Does that sound exotic, or what?