Sunday, August 10, 2008

Like Dolphins Out Of Water

5th August 2008
6.30pm

Oh yeah. Sitting alone in a hottub. There's something decadent about it. Mmmmm Hmm. Deckchairs to my left. Glass of bubbly to my right. Actually, a plastic flute, for the Scottish waiter has just decanted it from the glass because apparently before Southampton they had to close the pool for 5 hours because someone broke a glass. And in front is the deck below. In front again, the deck further below, with its pool and 2 other hottubs. Then below that, the Atlantic Ocean. As far as the eye can see. 1500 miles away lies Britain, Europe and Bristol. 4 days ago we left Southampton on the Queen Mary 2.


15 minutes ago, we saw about 12 dolphins skimming the surface. Well, my girlfriend reckons they're dolphins. I think they look like seabass, they're just not big enough to be dolphins. But she thinks the incredible proportions of the ship makes them look so small. I still reckon they're fish. Maybe not seabass, but fish nonetheless. Tuesday, we saw whales stopping for breath.

It's all a bit too perfect really. It is raining though. Which, in a hottub is quite refreshing. I feel a bit like a dolphin out of water on this ship, the average age here is about 2.4 generations above mine. And the luxury makes me feel a little queasy, even if the ship doesn't. At 148,000 odd tonnes we just glide through the water on this celebration of modernity, a triumph of human over its natural surroundings. The bubbly is The Co-op's finest Cava, fiver, smuggled on board. Nice. Bit of an 'edge' though.


The proportions of this beast are incredulous. With 14 decks; 4 stairways, in each of which a symmetrical double stairway flanks either side of a bank of 6 lifts; 1500 crew; 2500 passengers; 8 restaurants; 2 cocktail bars; a Champagne bar (apparently for I've not found it); a cigar lounge; a Boardroom (in which Masons met yesterday at 12.15pm); a gym; a Health Spa; 3 pools; 7 hottubs; a dance hall (the "Queens Room"); a 400 seat theatre to rival the Old Vic in Bristol; 'Illuminations', a 400 seat lecture theatre that doubles as a planetarium; and, of course a pub, The Golden Lion. We cruise at 24 knots, below the maximum speed of 29 knots, and at night we go even slower. Apparently, we could cross the Atlantic in 3 and a half days...

Nevertheless, at higher speeds the fuel economy increases by a factor of 2: that means to say an increase in speed demands an increase in power squared, because of the extra drag required and the resultant fuel needed. It's a similar reasoning to why everyone drives at 70 on the motorways at home these days with fuel prices as they are, 4 times what they were when I arrived in the UK 17 years ago - double what they were 5 years ago. This also justifies the slower speeds I suppose.

I am beginning to doubt the environmental reasons that we chose to avoid flying to the States. After a quick review of the 3 sea options available, we chose this as the cheapest. 148,000 tonnes. That needs a bit more than a V8 engine or 2. But, I concile in the knowledge that the carbon emitted at sea level is at least ten times less damaging to the ozone layer than when flying at 30,000 feet. I would love to see the statistics though, for I think it's a close call.

The sea has been, for what I've heard of the Atlantic's reputation at this time of year, fabulously calm. I am tense with anticipation of arriving in New York tomorrow. The other reason for travelling by sea is to savour the distance of the trip. With a 2 hour 'plane journey (or whatever it takes), you don't quite appreciate the miles you travel. And, to boot, Eastbound over the Atlantic, we get an extra hour's sleep every night. Better than having to stay up an extra 5 after the plane journey and waking up at 3 in the morning with nothing to do for the next 4 days, falling asleep over dinner.

We've met some lovely people. In an hour, I'm going to dinner in the main restaurant, the 'Brittania', where we have a table sharing with a delightful Yorkshire couple. I might grab myself a Tanqueray 10 martini with a grapefruit twist from the Commodore Club on the way: other than the pub, it's the only other indoor smoking venue. It's a bit surreal being able to smoke indoors, but then it pales in comparison to being able to see out of the front of the ship from my seat with the Atlantic on the horizon.


I've got into a bit of a daily routine aboard, the only way to apply some rational order in this otherwise flagrantly crazy microworld. After buffet breakfast at 'Kings Court' (waffle, maple syrup, asparagus & cheese omelette, bacon, perfectly chopped mushrooms, beans & hash browns) I head up to the Atlantic Room up on deck 11 at the bow end for 9.30am. This morning was my last bridge lesson there, with our instructor (Jim) who my Australian friends on my table tell me is very good. Then I head straight for the gym - I've never set foot in one before, but with free rein I couldn't resist seeing what all the fuss is about. Afterwards, I head up to the Pavilion Pool (the indoor one) for a shower and dip in the hottub there. Then down to 'Illuminations' for a lecture by an astronomer about galaxies and suchlike, a series of daily lectures, followed by lunch. Afternoons are a bit less structured (phew), normally involving gin (smuggled aboard).

The atmosphere for dinner is determined by one of three dress codes for the journey (formal, semi-formal and elegant casual). We have a reservation as standard in the 'Britannia' restaurant, but last night we reserved a table in 'Lotus', the Eastern fusion quarter of Kings Court. It was a tastings menu, 8 dishes in 5 courses, and rather tasty, washed down with regularly replenished green tea. We had a good natter with the waiter, from Croatia, about how things work for the staff. They work a minimum of 3 months aboard at a time (9 months for Philipinos, because of the higher costs of flying them home), 7 days a week. Bogdan, our waiter, works split shifts, up at 5 every morning and finishing at about 11. Which means that he can't sleep more than 6 hours a night. For 3 months. Wow.

My best night has got to be the night before last, the night of the crew party. Once a month, they shut the late night drinking holes early(ish) and let their hair down in the luggage hold. The Carribean band Vibes did a linkup with the saxophonist and played some skankin reggae / ragga mashup. The sight of the crew members laughing genuinely and having a drink cut the pretentiously stifling atmosphere of the ship that made it so alien, like nothing else could. It was a sweaty, sexually charged air that I hadn't quite experienced before. And it didn't last long. After about 25 minutes, the ship's duty officer appeared behind me at my shoulder, beckoning with her finger. Asking for our key cards, we walked to the hallway, made our excuses and left.

2 comments:

Lonely Paul said...

Hello

Troz said...

Hello Paul. Such kind brevity is almost poetic.