P&O Cruises Australia
Pacific Pearl
You know it's going to be a memorable holiday when it starts with a passionate soliloquy about chemtrails.
For all those who know me, you all know I love to hear the sound of my voice. But I can assure you it wasn't me vehemently expressing the evil dangers of those powder-puff lines in the gorgeous spring blue sky (Sydney really turned it on last weekend), but an expert and fellow commuter on all things relating to the spreading of poisons to the oblivious sheeple.
As we jumped on the bus - and by WE I am referring to my fellow Bad Mums and cabin buddies for the next three nights – on the way to Circular Quay, a lovely young fellow took his seat up front next to the bus driver. We adjusted our luggage and settled in for the 20 min trip. Within a few minutes, the voice of the aforementioned young man rose above the bus's mighty hissing of its pneumatic braking. My ear pricked up (I know eavesdropping is rude) to listen in. I wasn't sure at first who he was talking to, but the patient bus driver nodded and the voice grew louder and louder.
He talked without taking a pause, not even a breath, as if he was rattling off an encyclopedia-worth of conspiracy theories, gravitational equations and the Periodic Table of Elements. His voice rose with every 'beep' and every bus stop, working himself into a frenzy entertaining the whole bus. At first, I was mesmerised, trying to follow his train of thought, but soon I was stealing furtive glances at 'ma ladies', then smirks, then giggles, then full-on chortles. As we pulled into the change-of-driver spot just before the Harbour Bridge, we assumed with the change of guard, 'ChemTrailMan' would be spent. But, lo and behold, as soon as we resumed our journey, he started up once more from the top, having pressed rewind on his soundtrack.
By this stage, we were in tears. God love him, I hope I see him again so I can buy him a beer. Please don't think I'm mean, it was just so random.
Sydney Harbour always takes my breath away. Always. As the bus made its way across the giant coat hanger, I literally jumped out of my seat to get the first glance of the Pearl - before my traveling companions could. I am immature like that. Within a few moments we alighted at Wynyard and rolled down to the Quay. Every single ounce of anxiety melted away as soon as I saw the Pearl and the excitement bubbles were ready to burst like a vigorously shaken can of Coke.
Stopping for the obligatory snaps outside, we rushed to check-in and were aboard in a matter of minutes. There were no crowds, the staff were efficient and we were heading to our cabins to dump our hand luggage before we knew it. (I will write about the cabin in another post)
Having skipped breakfast, I was starving by this stage, and headed up to the Plantation Restaurant aka the buffet. I will be writing about all our culinary adventures in separate posts to make it easier to find posts specifically on the dining options. Laden with a few kilos of food, mainly dessert, I plopped down into a chair.
Suddenly, among the babble, I heard: "It's the Captain!" As I dragged my eyes away from my mound of tortillas, THERE HE WAS.
Striding with that cool air of confidence, and just the slightest hint of a swagger, he traversed the boards of the deck welcoming all with his gleaming smile. I was almost blinded by his brilliant whites, made even more dazzling by the reflection of the sun bouncing off the sparkling water. Swoon.
Calmly and elegantly I sauntered over. Okay, you all know that's a lie. I jumped out of my chair nearly falling over and most definitely knocking over a tumbler of juice.
"HELLO," I shouted. "You're the Captain! I'm Honey, I'm so glad to meet you! I'm writing a blog! Can I ask you a few questions!!!!?" (Please note all the exclamation marks. I shouted every single word at the poor man)
Composed and utterly courteous he shook my hand and smiled for the 15 selfies I took. One with sunnies, one without, one smiling, one duck-facing etc etc etc until I got the perfect one. I did let my friends take one too, begrudgingly.
Captain Lorenzo quietly unfolded a piece of A4 paper he held in his hand. On it were the smiling faces of his loves: two adorable children - boy and girl - and a gorgeous wife. "She's 31," he told me, wiggling his eyebrows a little. I giggled. I told him we were on a girls' weekend, and our kids were safely and securely far away from us for the next three nights.
"You know, the First Officer is Italian, he likes the ladies. You'd better stay away from him," he chuckled. My knees nearly gave way. Now this was a Captain who oozed charisma.
While I'd only had a quick look at the Pearl, I immediately felt at home on her. I felt an instant connection and expressed this to Captain Lorenzo.
"Do you know she was the largest ship when she was launched in 1989? There were a big party and celebrities attended. She was my first ship," he recounted.
"It will be sad when she takes her final voyage next year..." I piped in.
"Well, for the next three days, I will make sure you have a wonderful time. Please if there is anything I can do, just ask," his words dripping like caramel.
"Hmm... well can we please travel north as I get really sea-sick?" (God I'm bossy, face-palm)
"Yes, we are planning to go up to Brisbane, don't you worry!" And with that, he bade his adieus and slipped away. Before he could get too far I called out, "Will you have a drink with me?"
"Yes, but not tonight."
And with that he melted away into the sparkling sunshine.
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| Captain Lorenzo Paoletti and some purple-haired nutter |
