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.

Deck Encounter

We sat on deck, looking out on a calm sea that shimmered in the moonlight.

We were six, two couples plus a mother and adult son.  We had met on a cruise eight years before and we had been travelling together ever since.

We were a compatible lot and conversation never lagged.

This night was the Captain’s welcome reception and dinner.  We had all dressed up, joined the line to meet the Captain, drank the champagne and had a very nice dinner. 

We sighed in contentment. 

We were rehashing the jokes of the entertainer, a comedian, who was quite good when a young man came in sight.   Wow!

He was tall, dark, and handsome with full sensuous lips, deep blue eyes, a high forehead from which his hair fell in soft waves to his shoulders.  Yes, all the clichéd descriptions of the hero one could find in Mills and Boon and Harlequin romance novels were rolled into one eye-popping package and walking towards us.  He was the epitome of male pulchritude.

“Oooh! I would never say no to any request from this one!” Pat remarked sotto voce.

“MOTHER!” exclaimed Francis in such a shocked voice we all burst into laughter.

The young man turned and said: “That must have been a good one.”   With uncharacteristic boldness I said: “Come over and join us and we will share it with you.”

“Thanks, I will.”  He pulled out a chair came over and said: “Hi, I am Sean.”

We introduced ourselves.  Gary, the only smoker in our group had noticed the cigarette case Sean had pocketed before he accepted our invitation.  He suggested they have a smoke.

Sean accepted and he and Gary moved closer to the rail and ashtrays.    We surmised Sean had come out for air and a smoke before returning to his date/fiancée/wife/partner.

Cigarette done, Penny, Gary’s wife told Sean about our plans to go listen to the Jazz trio in the Piano Bar.  She invited him to join us.

There was a slight hesitation before Sean confirmed he was waiting for someone but maybe they would accompany us to the Piano bar also, if we did not mind.

Pat, our master of sotto voce whispered to Penny: “I should have known that someone who looks like that would be not alone.”   It was said with such a mixture of regret, desire and a hint of peevishness that Francis uttered a groan.   

The conversation flowed and then Sean told us he was waiting for his parents.  He explained that they all had early dinner together but his parents liked to go to relax with a cocktail before catching the later show.  He was quite happy with that arrangement because then his mother could pretend he did not smoke and he could have a cigarette without her telling him what a nasty habit it was.

“I am with your mother.  Gary is the only smoker in our group and he gets the ‘nasty habit’ lecture on a daily basis even from the former smokers here.”

He smiled and said: “Well, then if you tell me not to smoke, I won’t.”

Before I could reply, a door opened and the first people coming from the late show drifted towards our corner.  Sean got up, went towards the door and said:”They’re coming.”

He looked downwards, we looked up.

Coming towards us was the most striking couple.

Little people.  Very   Little   People.

Both were resplendent in their formal wear.  Both had the biggest smile when they saw Sean. Sean bent down, hugged both and said: “Mum and Dad, I want to introduce you to some people.”  They came forward hands held out.

“Hello, I am Mary and this is Hector, my husband.  You have met our son Sean.  I bet he was out here grabbing a smoke.  Nasty habit that.”

How gracious and how adroitly she had put us at ease.  Yet, we could not help it; we gaped even as we smiled.  I looked up at Sean and looked down at his parents in wonder.  I knelt, opened my arms and hugged them.  I was immediately embarrassed.  I thought I had committed a faux pas that I should not have done that.  As usual my Bert came to my rescue as he said: ‘”Don’t mind her.  She is a hugger.”

 “That she is,” said Penny.

“So are we,” said Hector.  He and Mary were so gracious. They hugged back.

The moment passed. We moved to the Piano Bar.

The Meander:  I have often said that our travel experiences have been so varied that should I write them all out I would need to create a number of books.  One would be about the people we have met.  Sean was 6ft 4 inches tall.  His Mom was 3ft 8 inches and his dad 3ft 11 inches.   They taught us so much!

I will not forget the sight of Sean dancing with his Mum.

We were shipboard companions only and after that just ships that passed in the night.  It is often like that, but for a moment in time the stars aligned to hand us a remarkable travel story.