The Dorians

Among the pleasures of travelling are meeting new people, seeing new sites, speaking in a different language or trying to do so, eating new and interesting delicacies, daring to do.

My Bert and I have made some wonderful friends from our years of travelling and we have mingled with some very interesting characters.

Dorians refer to two such fascinating persons.  It is not their real name but the characteristics they show put them in this exclusive category.

My first Dorian I met on The QEII, that venerable former flagship of the Cunard Line.  It is now sitting at a dock in Dubai awaiting a retrofit into a new seven star hotel.  A rebirth I may not live to see as plans are on hold as the owners are either stressed for cash and/or courting investors for the project.

On a cruise ship, or any ship for that matter, the Captain is the boss, the head honcho, a veritable god of all he surveys.  We passengers may be paying his salary but on board his or her vessel we are mere peons that must obey all orders of the great master.

We were on a world tour.  We would be spending 115 days on board the QEII.  We would experience two such exalted personnel, as we knew from experience that the Captain we meet on boarding the ship in New York would change places with another Captain in Sydney, Australia.

It was the Captain’s Welcome party.  We were in line for the official introduction to the Master of the ship.  The hostesses went down the line, asked your name(s), then you would be presented by name to his majestic awesomeness.

Remember this is the QEII.  Pomp and circumstance is a hallmark.  The British are champions at this.

It is our turn.  I look into this minor god and I try not to do a double take as I see before me a compact man, of medium height.   He had dark hair, blue eyes, was polished and adorned with so many medals and gold braid that there was a luminescent halo surrounding his entire frame.

All well and good but what distracted me was that he looked as if he could be my son.  How could one so young be Captain of this great ship?

He extended his hand said: “Welcome on board.”  I could not help it I looked right into his eyes and said: “Where do you keep your picture.”  He raised one eyebrow and with a calm insouciance and a devilish smile said: “It will be up to you to find it, but I assure you it will look the same.”  We laughed.

For the rest of his time on board it was our running joke.  There were plenty of opportunities to carry it on because as world cruisers the cocktail parties, dinners and opportunities to mingle with the Captain and ship’s officers were twice as many as for those who were doing cruise segments only.

When he had his farewell dinner we greeted each with slight regret that our inside joke was over.  In addition to the usual pat phrases of farewell he said: “You will have to ask Oscar where I keep the portrait.”  My answer: “I will keep on looking.  Oscar is too Wilde for me.”  There were quite a few in hearing distance who wondered what the heck we were talking about.

My next Dorian was again the boss of the luxury sailing yacht the Wind Surf.  This luxury cruiser was tiny compared to the QEll but no less grand with an intimate, relaxed, and marvelous ambiance. 

Prior to the official formal affair we were invited to a meet and greet hosted by the cruise director.  It would be an introduction to Windstar Cruises and this particular yacht. 

He was telling us about the sails being raised or lowered accompanied by music when a young man dressed in casual sailor’s whites came by.  Immediately the cruise director stopped his spiel, went over to the young man and said something to him.  He came back to the microphone and said:

“Ladies and gentlemen may I present the Master, Captain of our vessel.”  Well knock me down with a feather.  Master?  Captain?  The fellow behind me said: “They are hiring babies now.”

The Master took the microphone and his first words were: “First let me answer the question you all have in mind.  Yes, I am old enough to Captain this yacht.”   Everyone laughed.  You could see some of us including Bert trying to see the stripes to confirm he really was the Captain.   Another Dorian!

That night at the formal Captain’s welcome dinner  the young fellow was resplendent in his dress uniform,  medals flashing, epaulettes set just so.   I looked at him and sighed.   Despite his assurance he still looked too young to be our Captain.  Should I go looking for another hidden picture that was aging sight unseen?

I think all 295 passengers were on deck as our Captain docked at Santorini.  He had to parallel park our vessel in between two much larger vessels.  We were holding our breaths in trepidation when we saw where he had to go.  We wondered if we should go for our life jackets.

He made it in one maneuver.  He lined up the yacht perfectly in the middle.  He erased any doubts that were left of his capabilities.  A spontaneous cheer went up.

The Meander: My Bert and I have been to all corners of the world.  We have seen the touristy sites and wandered along paths less travelled.   We have been blessed.  I have so many travel stories but the ones that stay uppermost are the ones about the people we have met.   The Dorians are etched on the canvass of my mind.