One of the best things about studying abroad is the ease of traveling. With two weeks off for Spring Break, the two of us decided to sample the Mediterranean on a seven-day cruise. It seemed perfect -- six ports in three different countries. What better way to make your passport look cooler? We should have taken it as a bad omen when we found out that they in fact wouldn't be stamping our passports in every country. What a rip-off!
So we left cold, dreary London in hopes of finding the sun again. We landed to find the temperatures in Spain a mild 65 degrees, but after a semester in London, it felt like 95.
As we headed for the boat, we started wondering if we had gotten on the bus to a geriatrics convention instead of our cruise line bus. Where were all the hot, single European men? In place of our future husbands was a plethora of balding Brits. To our left, Val and Bill were planning their run to the casino, while on our right, Iris was scolding George for forgetting his blood pressure medicine.
OK, so this wasn't going to be the wet and wild party of a Spring Break we had hoped for. But we weren't going to let that stop us from exploring the awesome ports we were headed: Naples, St. Tropez and Barcelona among others.
Things were going along swimmingly for the first two days, no pun intended. We ate gelato with the elderly during the day and played bingo with them at night.
Unlike American bingo, the British version actually has nothing to do with the word. Nevertheless, we were hooked. Night after night, we bought our tickets and listened intently, hoping to score some serious dough.
The British apparently also have their own way of announcing the numbers. For example, whenever the number 11 was drawn, the announcer would say, "one and one, the number 11, those lovely legs." In response, the Brits would all whistle.
This was humorous enough until one night the awkward, middle-aged cabaret singer, Vicki, was the announcer and drew the number 69. We cringed as she said "six and nine, 69, my favorite number." Wow. We all know what 69 implies but was that necessary? T.M.I., Vic, T.M.I.
Six nights and $200 later, we retired from bingo with only our dignity intact. Vicki, however, wasn't as fortunate.
Warning to all the young readers: Gambling is addictive and wrong, and if you do it even once, you will get gonorrhea and die.
But we digress. The night before we were scheduled to dock at Livorno, Italy, the storm hit. This wasn't your average storm. We're talking gale force winds, torrential rain and the roughest of seas. What the heck? How was our pale skin going to get sunburned in this weather?
Not only were we not getting tan, but our captain so regretfully informed us that we wouldn't be able to dock. So without the sun to distract us, our attentions turned to the casino.
We weren't sure if it was the flashing lights or the dollar signs in our eyes but we spent the day (and most of our money) playing the slots while trying to ward off the old ladies lurking close behind.
After losing even more money, we sulked off to the bar where we drowned our sorrows until we couldn't tell whether our inability to stand was caused by the boat or the alcohol.
One long night and a rough morning later, we finally docked in St. Tropez and terra firma never felt so sweet.
The sparkling blue water was only one of the many features that easily classify St. Tropez as one of the most beautiful spots on the planet. Full of crepes and baguettes we headed back to the ship.
Though we didn't want to ever leave such a beautiful place, we were both excited to visit Barcelona, the next scheduled port.
Within an hour of leaving the South of France, our fearless leader came on the intercom to give us the news: Yet another storm was brewing, and we wouldn't be able to stop in Barcelona.
Depressed and angry, we decided to once again drown our sorrows and headed to the Ocean Theatre, where the cruise entertainers were putting on a show. Halfway through, the music stopped and the lights flickered off. Petrified, we waited for news that the ship had struck an iceberg.
Our worst nightmares were about to come true here, 30 miles off the coast of France. To calm our nerves, the ever-cheerful cruise director decided to lead the theater in a sing-along. Unfortunately for us, all the songs were British. We didn't recognize any of the songs until someone in the front of the room requested to sing the theme song from Titanic. Too soon, comrade.
After about 30 minutes and a few drinks, the lights came back on, soothing all of our fears (well, maybe it was the alcohol).
To our surprise, the next day we made it to Palma de Mallorca in Spain, where the cruise ended.
But the adventure wasn't over. Since our plane was the last to leave from the island, the cruise company arranged for our vacation to go from strange to oh-my-God-is-this-really-happening bizarre.
To pass the time, the cruise arranged for a guide to give us a coach tour of the island. Our guide led us to the middle of nowhere along with the wide-eyed old folk.
So this was it. After everything we'd been through, they'd brought us here to die.
As you can probably guess, we weren't murdered. But we bet no one can possibly imagine what happened next.
Our tour guide led us into an underground lair full of ... lamb's wool bedding. During the next hour, we were forced to listen to the benefits of sleeping on a lamb's wool mattress, the coarsest material known to man. Fortunately, an old couple in the crowd had bought one of the said mattresses and was able to provide a much unneeded testimonial.
The guide ended up letting us explore the city for the rest of the day -- to our relief.
In the end, we made it back to London safely, all limbs intact. So our cruise wasn't exactly what we were expecting. But we still got to see three new countries, taste amazing cuisine and meet a ton of really awesome British people. And if there's one thing we all learned from this experience, it's that when the seas of life get rough ... avoid the slots at all cost.
Courtney's and Bailey's columns run biweekly Wednesdays. They can be reached at kessler@cavalierdaily.com and stephens@cavalierdaily.com.
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