Morocco Malta and the Med: Between Tunis and Algiers, A Day at Sea
Awaiting the Sunrise and anticipating a quiet day.
We are mostly of a demographic, the 900 odd passengers on the Viking Saturn, and the pace has us wearing a little around the edges. Today, the washing machines in the laundry started very early, according to the woman whose cabin is across the hall from the laundry room.
We were in the back of a Land Rover heading into Wadi Rum a couple years ago, on a Oceania trip that went from Barcelona with stops en route to Haifa and the entrance to the Suez Canal, through the Canal and down the Red Sea turning east at Yemen to get to Oman, and eventually Abu Dhabi. We hadn’t been on the ship all that long, maybe a week. One of our companions bouncing around in the back of the Land Rover had been on the same ship as the Captain several times, and told us the Captain said that the worst problem cruise ships have to deal with is passengers getting bored.
They are contained. They rush rush rush at each port and then a day at sea seems very long. He was telling us this because we were approaching four concurrent days at sea. I guess they didn’t want to stop in Saudi Arabia, or the Sudan, or Yemen, LOL.
The ship has a lot going on this sea day – several scheduled tours of the Bayeux Tapestry panels, which has proven very popular, and two or three other lectures, trivia games, movies, tea in the Winter garden. My husband and I sleep in, have a lazy breakfast and then we hit the spa. We love the spa. I love trying to swim against the waves and turbulence and hitting the snow room, and then flopping on a lounge and falling into a deep stuporous slumber. Then, when I gather the energy, I head upstairs and hit my book.
I should be taking notes, or something, I am sure, but I am happy just to have a day off.
Many passengers are a-twitter about the announcement that in Algeria, we can only get off the ship in official organized groups, and that those groups will be accompanied by armed guards. Actually, before the ship sailed, we got e-mails explaining the situation, and I think most didn’t pay any attention. We changed our tour from the panoramic tour, after which we intended to take off on our own and explore the Kasbah. Once we learned that wasn’t going to be possible, we booked the walking tour of the Kasbah. We think you see and experience more on the ground.
We think this is going to be interesting. We were never allowed to go to Algeria when we lived in Tunis. It was considered too dangerous.
😁😳😎🥸
Saying Goodbye to Al Marai Coffee Cups
All my nomadic life, I have had to sift, sort and weigh the value of my belongings – literally. As an Army wife and later a corporate wife, I had a weight allowance as we moved from country to country. My life was full of leaving things behind – friends, churches, social groups, jobs, my identity – as well as belongings.
Unlikely items made the cut. In 2003, when we moved to Doha, Qatar, I discovered a nearby store, the LuLu (which means lovely large pearl), where a gallon of Al Rifai milk came with a free coffee cup sturdily taped to it. I was delighted. I’ve always believed good design does not necessarily correlate with price – and these cups were a perfect size and had these wonderful scenes from Doha life, where there was a dhow harbor in the center of town, dhows in the harbor, and camel races with human riders on Saturdays. Look! The dhow coffee cup even has a wind tower in the background.
So yesterday, Christmas Day, as I opened two beautiful new coffee cups, one from Giverney and one from Barcelona, my husband looked at me sorrowfully, and approached the subject gently.
“It’s time we give up the Doha coffee cups,” he said.
“They have served us well. They are over 20 years old. They were free, probably made in China from materials we don’t even want to think about. I use them all the time, and even as I do, I wonder what might be leaching into my drink.”
I know he is right. There is no marking of any kind to indicate origin. After all these years, marks are appearing where we have stirred for twenty years. And yet – these cups have served me loyally. They are still bright and unmarred. I love their memorialization of a slower time in Doha. And I have options.
At Christmas breakfast, I have the cups out on display and offer them to my son. He is a discerning collector of first editions by selected authors, first edition Legos from the space exploration collections, edged weapons, and selected items that catch his attention. He also knows how to buy and sell on the Internet when he wants to refine his collections.
He expresses interest but does not take them with him. Their departure, however, is Christmas Day chaotic – bags full of presents, the food divided to be used for quick meals in the coming week (even our grandchildren contributed to our Christmas Eve dinner, my grandson a crab dip and my granddaughter a wreath made of crescent roll wrapped little smokies. My son, who was never interested in cooking, astonished us with a baked Brie!) and last-minute check-ins on upcoming family plans.
I am a patient woman. I know those cups deserve to find new appreciation in a new home. I believe my son will get involved but if not, I have other options.
Update: This is what it is like to be me. It is not that I am getting older, it is that I will tell you things I believe to be true, and they are close, but not the same.
My friend Yusuf, below, said he thought it must be Al Marai, and that sounded familiar. AdventureMan said maybe really we should keep the cups, and as he handled them, He found Al Marai logos on the cups. Not just one. Two on each cup.
In our family, we are all very very sure we are right. When we are not right, we are required to humbly state it. I was wrong, so very very wrong; the cups were labeled, Al Marai, not Al Rifai, and YOU, Yusef and AdventureMan, were RIGHT.
And we are keeping the cups!
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