The scene: Me, Hubby and in-laws (six of 'em) have just stepped onto the MSC Sinfonia, our home on the high seas for the next eleven days...
Hubby: "Let's go check out our cabin and get unpacked."
Me: "Cool, we're sharing with your [pregnant] sister and brother-in-law, right?"
Hubby: "Yeah. Mom and Dad are sharing with [younger brother] and [younger brother's brand new fiance]"
Me: "Hmmmm. That should be uh, cosy..."
After what seemed like an eternity walking down a very looooong corridor (that we later found out was about 500m from start to finish) we located our cabin...
Hubby: "8236, 8238... oh, here we are... 8240. Home sweet home!"
Me (after opening door): [stunned silence followed by a genuine smile and a ten-second giggle] "Wow!"
Hubby: "Yeah, lucky we're a 'close' family!"
You see, the cabin was just about big enough to swing a cat in (albeit a very small, malnourished one). A shower, toilet, basin, wardrobe, mini-bar fridge, TV, full length mirror and two bunk beds that folded down off the walls to hover above a double bed below had been fitted into a six by six meter cabin. An absolutely applause-worthy accomplishment of design... modest yet beautiful finishes, sparkly polished surfaces and the faint aroma of bleach indicating that the bathroom had been scrubbed so clean you could've eaten your cereal out of the basin. It was alarmingly small but, we had to admit, perfectly formed.
Hubby: "What are you doing?"
Me: "I'm gonna unpack quickly, book some closet space, shove my empty bag under the bed and then try not to fall into the toilet while I change into my bikini in the bathroom."
Hubby: "You're going for a swim? Now?"
Me: "Of course! Just so you know, for the duration of the cruise, if you lose me for any reason, or if you're wondering where I am... 99% probability rate that I'll be on deck 11, on a sun lounger turning over every fifteen minutes to ensure even distribution of sun exposure."
Hubby: [giggle, but a manly one] "Just remember I like my meat medium rare, hey. Not well done...."
And with that I proceeded to flip-flop up the corridor with my beach bag (containing three different sunblocks – an SPF20 spray, an SPF30 cream and a 'you paid how much for that?!?' bottle of all day long sun protection lotion), climb into the elevator, ascend three storeys and commence 'Mission: Get a tan' ... I had a strategy to achieve medium rare, golden perfection and over the next few days I executed it with meticulous precision. I stayed out of the sun between 10 am and 2pm, I wore a hate, I re-applied sunscreen every 30 minutes and I made sure to avoid the dreaded tan lines caused by wearing too many different bikini tops.
I'd like to tell you that my tan plan worked, I'd like to tell you that as I sit typing this I am the colour of perfectly executed creme brulee. Alas! While, I am tanned, I look more like a dirty zebra than an olive-skinned beach babe. Okay, I may be exaggerating a bit, but the cold, hard fact is this: On day five I climbed off the boat to explore the little French island of Reunion and chose to wear a very pretty but very strappy top for the excursion. I also may have forgotten (okay, I definitely did forget) to ask hubby to put sunblock on my back when I was covering the bits I can actually reach in SPF30 that morning. Anyway, long story short, Reunion was hotter than a Swedish sauna and the inhabitants were just as cranky. We spent far too much time walking aimlessly (trying to find something cool to do, something worthwhile seeing) in the sticky, humid 30-degree day and while the local beer was delicious it has no sun-shielding abilities. By the time we got back to the boat the damage was done...
Me: "Love, is my back burnt?"
Hubby: [taking a quick glance and giving me his answer non-verbally. His face said it all] "maybe a little... ummmm, actually maybe a lot"
Me: [turning around and looking over my shoulder into the mirror] "Crap!"
Yip, the tan plan had been thwarted by a strappy top and a day on a sauna of an island... I was officially a neon pink zebra. At least until the neon pink faded to brown and I could get hubby to apply fake tan ever so carefully to the white bits *sigh*
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