Diary 4/26/2014: No Go In Tunisia. Drama At Sea.

[title type="h5"]Saturday, April 26, 2014. Our Tunisian Visit Blown Away. Dramatic Rescue At Sea. [/title] I am pretending to be the adventuresome type. The stance began when one of our cruisers weeks ago sent me information suggesting that Tunisia might not be an entirely safe place to visit. Of course, where is there a totally safe place? Most dispensers of travel info say that one shouldn't worry too much. But they admit that Tunis has its dangers. Pickpockets, muggers, political demonstrators, misunderstandings, and other issues were also brought up in a letter yesterday from the cruise line. It said we should travel in groups, avoid crowds, be suspicious of people who approach in a too-friendly way (especially those who speak English well), know that salesmen can be aggressive, and check out taxis to make sure they're licensed. I am a bit spooked by this, even though I have been in places no less dangerous: Jamaica, Naples, and Belize City, to name three. Cynics might even add New Orleans to the list. With all that on my mind, I don't sleep well. Mary Ann, still afflicted with sea queasiness, is up before me. She wonders how the wind crossing the deck could possibly be at sixty miles per hour. That has to be a mistake, I said--but indeed, when I check the ship's log, it reports a force ten gale, with gusts approaching hurricane strength. Also puzzling is the orientation of the ship. We are supposed to be headed south, but the bow is pointed due east, suggesting that the ship is crabbing in that direction. We scratch our heads (and other places) and head up to the buffet for breakfast. Bob and Jean Johnson--regulars at our dinners and on our cruises--join us. Everybody seems a little sober. The captain's voice comes on the general intercom. Because of shallow waters and rocks in the ship's path, the ship has to sort of back in while heading in a semicircle, he says. But the winds are so strong that they exceed the ability of the ship to nudge itself into place. The captain says that in his strong opinion this is decidedly unsafe, and he decided we would not be able to call on Tunisia after all. In our previous twenty-something cruises, we canceled port visits three times, all because of weather issues. (Two were on the same Caribbean cruise that we still refer to as "The Cruise From Hell.") On all those occasions, everybody was bummed out about the loss of a day's onshore activities--both passengers and crew. Many of the crew members get a day off from their otherwise ceaseless labors when the ship is in port. If the port call is nixed, they have to get back to work, and in a more hurried way than normal, further increasing their loads. Not a happy-maker. But that isn't the mood around the ship following the captain's pronouncement. I have breakfast or coffee with three Eat Club couples, and all of them are relieved that we wouldn't have to face the unknown in the narrow streets, bustling souks, and impenetrable discussions of Tunisia. Even Mary Ann could only work up an oh, well reaction as the Eurodam sailed away from the spot where it waited hours for better weather that didn't come. Later in the cruise, we had dinner with the Hotel Director of the ship. The Tunis question came up. He said that they go to that port only once a year. Last year's visit didn't come off, either, and for the same reason. But we all have a day full of drama, anyway. A call to the ship's doctor in mid-morning had him rushing to the infirmary. An hour later, the captain came on to report that a passenger's life was in jeopardy, and that the ship--which has a slow, short run planned for today--would speed forward while an Italian military helicopter came our way to airlift the patient to a hospital. [caption id="attachment_42241" align="alignnone" width="480"] Italian Air Force helicopter, hovering about 30 feet above the foredeck of the ship Eurodam, as seen from our stateroom.[/caption] The site for the maneuver is the foredeck, which happens to have a television camera aimed at it. Our stateroom has an equally good vantage point. Its veranda is forward and high enough that we could see a great deal of the operation directly. The action is far from routine. The foredeck is not all that large--certainly not big enough to fit a landing helicopter. With both the chopper and the ship trying to hold their positions steady--ans it is still very windy out there--the copter lowered cables to hoist the patient. We see him go up on a stretcher. I hope he was anesthetized. The lift looks like plenty enough to scare me to death. As we watch, the thought came that one false move by this chopper could bring disaster--not just to the patient, but the ship too. The whole operation takes nearly an hour, and when it's done could feel and maybe even hear the easing of tensions. The conversations around the ship about this drama focus on the tone of the captain's announcements. In his explanation of what was going on, he held nothing important back. As he did earlier in explaining the Tunisia weather problem, he made the rescue seem as if it were all in a day's work for his competent team. I'm certain it was not. Good to know that such a sang-froid person is at the helm. I have a light lunch from the buffet, eating just soup and salad--two things that survive the buffet treatment well. As I walk around checking out the other offerings, I see that the food up there was exactly the same as that being served on the cloth-covered tables downstairs. I decide that as much as I dislike buffets (Mary Ann loves them), on this ship they have better food than the main dining room does. The main disadvantage of the formal room is that the food comes out cold more often than not. The main dining room is much more social, of course, which is its main advantage. (In the buffet, everybody competes with you in trying to find a table, never a problem down below.) Mary Ann and I discuss this over lunch. We agree that this is the weak side of Holland America--or, at the very least, of this particular ship. We are very surprised by this. [caption id="attachment_42242" align="alignnone" width="480"] Tandoori lamb on a shish, with raita and rice.[/caption] But I go down to the dining room for dinner anyway. It's been two days I've been absent from the gathering of Eat Clubbers, while dining in Tamarind. It's Indian night in the dining room. I have a decent lamb souvlaki with raita and rice for the entree. Pear cobbler for dessert. Not bad, but still. . . the food comes out tepid as always. One thing I can say positively for the Eurodam's main dining room: it uses beautiful china. [caption id="attachment_42243" align="alignnone" width="480"] Pear cobbler.[/caption] [title type="h6"] Yesterday || Tomorrow[/title]