The ship feels quite crowded after adding another several hundred people in San Diego. We try not to feel proprietary about spaces we had begun to call our own, moving during the day from the library to the Crow’s Nest to the restaurant, walking the Promenade deck (My pace is about a twenty-five minute mile: it takes me 7-8 minutes to go around once, and the sign tells us 3.5 rounds makes a mile.) The only assigned places are our own cabin and our table for two at the early seating for dinner.
Our cabin is nicely central on the Main Deck, right next to the mid-ships bank of elevators. We have an Ocean view and are not far above the waterline. The window is at the head of the comfy Queen-size bed, then comes the sitting area and tables, a set of built-in drawers, closets opposite the head, and the door. The Steward, come to take away our breakfast tray on the mornings we’ve had breakfast in the cabin, manages to hoist the big tray onto his shoulder so he can fit in the narrow passage and still have a hand free to open the door for himself.
When we return in the evening to go to bed, there’s always a towel creature to greet us. Last night it was a friendly dog.
Today, Tom and I had separated to go to different things after a 9:00 Writers workshop. We found each other eventually and managed a watercolor workshop after lunch in the Crow’s Nest. There’s a significant swell so people navigate holding onto each other, to railings, leaning against bulkheads, walking with bent knees and ready for a quick side-step.
The writer’s group is going to prove fun, people coming for different reasons, one way to meet people with like interests. It will happen in the morning every “sea day.” One person started it, but clearly the group is open to different writing exercises, conversations.