We are headed to the Falkland Islands. The seas today have been so nice that one hardly knows we are out in the open Atlantic Ocean. Thank you Mother Nature for a nice ride.
Sea days are usually pretty uneventful: shower/dress, eat, play bridge, eat, play more bridge, eat again, show or early bed. People have been saying how tired they are and don’t know what they have done to get tired. Cruising can be very tiring – ok, now you all can groan and ohhh. Truly it is. For us, we represent the ship so we have to be “on” whenever we are out in public. We host dinner tables and these seatings can last for up to three hours. If we are escorts, we need to be mindful of conditions and people all the time. I’m not sure that charming is my middle name, so for me being charming is work. When you are interacting with people all day, it is exhausting.
Last night we dined in the “fancy” restaurant, named Restaurant 2. We sat with two other couples. Dining does not start until 7:30pm. They don’t start serving until 8:15pm. This is a killer for my digestive system. This restaurant serves several courses of impossibly hard to describe gourmet food. The combinations were weird. Some sort of caviar topped potato mush over green mush with a chive stem sticking out for garnish. Then came the appetizer of sushi type stuff (meat, salmon, and duck), then spaetzle in duck broth with something or other plus a mushroom cappuccino. Disgusting. They served something they called an empanada, but what a joke. It was about ¼ inch long and if it had any filling, I couldn’t find it. The main entrée was then served, which I declined. They had a hard time with me refusing the dish, so I accepted it and hoped someone at the table would eat it. It was shrimp bathed in yellow oily stuff and tenderloin drizzled with some brown sauce. The portions were very petite so you could eat everything served. Lot’s of wine and a truly undelicious bread rounded out the meal. Dessert was the high point: apricot beignets and ice cream. This dinner took over three hours to complete. I could have been reading a good book, eating a P&J sandwich. Don’t get me wrong, I like good food. I do not like snobby dining.
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We arrived in Port Stanley, Falkland Islands at 8am and dropped anchor outside the bay. The wind was howling at about 50 mph and the water was choppy with 6 foot waves. Neither Michael nor I got an excursion today; I wanted to see more penguins, but maybe on the way back I’ll get to go. We decided just to go to town and see what we could see.
After a leisurely breakfast we headed down to the tender station on Deck 3. Tender service was stopped for a short time due to the bad weather and water conditions. After standing in line for about 15 minutes, they decided to load a tender. Now this was an adventure! One person at a time went down the stairs to the platform. The tender was heaving hard against the lines, banging into the ship. You had to time it just right….. it was my turn and as I was standing on the last step before stepping onto the platform, bam I was swamped with a 15 wave and drenched. The poor guys on the platform, washed out to sea. By now most of you know that I do like to jazz things up a bit, but no kidding, this was dangerous. I did get wet, but not drenched and the crew was not washed out to sea. Timing was the key and the poor crew guys were really wet. I have never been on a tender that leaked from taking so much water over the top. It was truly a bumpy ride and took about 20 minutes. I am surprised that the whole tender experience was not cancelled.
That is the end of the exciting part of the adventure. Port Stanley is just a sleepy little town, in fact, the only town in the Falklands. Just over 2,500 British subjects and a bazillion sheep and penguins live here. Everything geared toward tourists is penguin related. Delores, you would have gone absolutely mad here and there was nothing, and I mean nothing that didn’t have a penguin on it from lamps to underwear. We toured town, walking in strong winds. We walked to the war memorial commemorating the 1982 war between the British and Argentina. Then we walked through one of the residential streets that had a few little shops buried between the houses where I stopped to buy some local wool. We then headed back to the ship for lunch and a nap; this was our first free day since we got on the ship. The tender ride this time was much tamer.
Sea days are usually pretty uneventful: shower/dress, eat, play bridge, eat, play more bridge, eat again, show or early bed. People have been saying how tired they are and don’t know what they have done to get tired. Cruising can be very tiring – ok, now you all can groan and ohhh. Truly it is. For us, we represent the ship so we have to be “on” whenever we are out in public. We host dinner tables and these seatings can last for up to three hours. If we are escorts, we need to be mindful of conditions and people all the time. I’m not sure that charming is my middle name, so for me being charming is work. When you are interacting with people all day, it is exhausting.
Last night we dined in the “fancy” restaurant, named Restaurant 2. We sat with two other couples. Dining does not start until 7:30pm. They don’t start serving until 8:15pm. This is a killer for my digestive system. This restaurant serves several courses of impossibly hard to describe gourmet food. The combinations were weird. Some sort of caviar topped potato mush over green mush with a chive stem sticking out for garnish. Then came the appetizer of sushi type stuff (meat, salmon, and duck), then spaetzle in duck broth with something or other plus a mushroom cappuccino. Disgusting. They served something they called an empanada, but what a joke. It was about ¼ inch long and if it had any filling, I couldn’t find it. The main entrée was then served, which I declined. They had a hard time with me refusing the dish, so I accepted it and hoped someone at the table would eat it. It was shrimp bathed in yellow oily stuff and tenderloin drizzled with some brown sauce. The portions were very petite so you could eat everything served. Lot’s of wine and a truly undelicious bread rounded out the meal. Dessert was the high point: apricot beignets and ice cream. This dinner took over three hours to complete. I could have been reading a good book, eating a P&J sandwich. Don’t get me wrong, I like good food. I do not like snobby dining.
====
We arrived in Port Stanley, Falkland Islands at 8am and dropped anchor outside the bay. The wind was howling at about 50 mph and the water was choppy with 6 foot waves. Neither Michael nor I got an excursion today; I wanted to see more penguins, but maybe on the way back I’ll get to go. We decided just to go to town and see what we could see.
After a leisurely breakfast we headed down to the tender station on Deck 3. Tender service was stopped for a short time due to the bad weather and water conditions. After standing in line for about 15 minutes, they decided to load a tender. Now this was an adventure! One person at a time went down the stairs to the platform. The tender was heaving hard against the lines, banging into the ship. You had to time it just right….. it was my turn and as I was standing on the last step before stepping onto the platform, bam I was swamped with a 15 wave and drenched. The poor guys on the platform, washed out to sea. By now most of you know that I do like to jazz things up a bit, but no kidding, this was dangerous. I did get wet, but not drenched and the crew was not washed out to sea. Timing was the key and the poor crew guys were really wet. I have never been on a tender that leaked from taking so much water over the top. It was truly a bumpy ride and took about 20 minutes. I am surprised that the whole tender experience was not cancelled.
That is the end of the exciting part of the adventure. Port Stanley is just a sleepy little town, in fact, the only town in the Falklands. Just over 2,500 British subjects and a bazillion sheep and penguins live here. Everything geared toward tourists is penguin related. Delores, you would have gone absolutely mad here and there was nothing, and I mean nothing that didn’t have a penguin on it from lamps to underwear. We toured town, walking in strong winds. We walked to the war memorial commemorating the 1982 war between the British and Argentina. Then we walked through one of the residential streets that had a few little shops buried between the houses where I stopped to buy some local wool. We then headed back to the ship for lunch and a nap; this was our first free day since we got on the ship. The tender ride this time was much tamer.
The Falklands has always been administered by the British, although Argentina claims them and calls them the Malvinas. Port Stanley has a British look and feel, and the residents have an English accent. The 150 year old colonists ‘ cottage homes are constructed with wood and topped with colorful corrugated iron roofs. The wood was imported (there are no trees on the islands) as the settlers found the stone too hard to work with. Falklands claim to fame is penguins -- hundreds and thousands of them -- all breeds except the Emperor penguin. There are also elephant seals, sea lions, and more than 227 species of birds. There are over 200 islands that comprise the Falklands.
The other claim to fame is the 1982 Falkland Conflict between Britain and Argentina. Britain won, but Argentina still claims the Falklands as their own. There are 117 land mine fields left behind, and each of them is fully mapped, fenced and monitored. I heard but cannot confirm that there might be oil in the area, so I can understand why everyone wants it. Arts and crafts is a cottage industry here, with wool items the number one product. After all, there are more than one half million sheep here, and besides, what else is there to do on the long, dark winter months but knit. I hopefully will have more to report on the Falklands on our return trip.
The other claim to fame is the 1982 Falkland Conflict between Britain and Argentina. Britain won, but Argentina still claims the Falklands as their own. There are 117 land mine fields left behind, and each of them is fully mapped, fenced and monitored. I heard but cannot confirm that there might be oil in the area, so I can understand why everyone wants it. Arts and crafts is a cottage industry here, with wool items the number one product. After all, there are more than one half million sheep here, and besides, what else is there to do on the long, dark winter months but knit. I hopefully will have more to report on the Falklands on our return trip.
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