29th January 2015

As this was the day we were to board the ship that would be our home for the next ten days, we rose at 8 am and began packing. With that task complete, and after two coffees and a chat with Charlotte on Messenger, we set off for a spot of shopping.

The hotel was conveniently located just a few streets away from Sydney’s largest indoor market, which was our destination. On the way, Sue treated herself to a new dress and a pair of trousers from a boutique, while I picked up an 8GB SD card from a 7/11.

At the market, we came across a Community Stall selling Aboriginal art and purchased a large painting featuring a symbolic lizard, said to offer protection from hazards (maybe come in useful). Every element in the painting was rich in symbolism and meaning. Its intricate detail was far beyond our capability to fathom. Later, Sue returned to the stall and couldn’t resist buying a wooden kangaroo, as she put it, “I simply couldn’t help myself.”

Back at the hotel, we collected our suitcases, checked out, and made our way to the station. We endured a long wait for the train, 11 whole minutes, to Circular Quay. Once there, we joined a gaggle of fellow cruisers, all lugging their cases towards the Overseas Passenger Terminal, a mere 400 metres away.

There, docked and waiting for us, was the ‘Voyager of the Seas’.

Checking in was a matter of joining one queue after another, armed with all the necessary paperwork, until we finally reached the gangplank. Thankfully, the process went off without a hitch, and before long, we were seated in one of the restaurants, enjoying lunch while waiting for the staterooms to be opened at 1 pm.

After a quick wander around the outside decks, we located our cabin and met our room attendant, Alloeta, who greeted us with a warm smile. Our cases hadn’t arrived yet, so we headed to one of the cafés for a coffee and struck up a conversation with a friendly Aussie family (it seems all Australians have a talent for lively chatter).

When we returned to the cabin, Sue’s suitcase had been delivered. She set about unpacking, during which she claimed, much to my disbelief, that I had nodded off. No one else in the room could verify her story, of course, so I remain sceptical!

At 4:45 pm, we headed to the theatre, our muster point, for the obligatory lifeboat drill. However, we never actually left the theatre, nor were we required to bring our life jackets. Perhaps budget cuts have taken their toll; no doubt the lifeboats have been privatised by now!

Once dismissed, we returned to our cabin to find that my suitcase had finally arrived. With everything unpacked and stowed away, we made our way back to the deck to watch the ship depart from port. Unfortunately, just as we were getting into position, a storm rolled in, sweeping across the harbour and spoiling everyone’s photos of the Opera House and Harbour Bridge.

That said, I’m sure some managed to capture spectacular shots of the lightning illuminating the Sydney skyline. Sadly, I wasn’t one of them.

The dress code for the evening meal was smart casual, and suitably attired, we queued at the Sapphire Restaurant for our 8 pm reservation. We’d been allocated a table and were looking forward to meeting our fellow diners. However, despite being seated at a table for eight, no one else showed up.

We suspect that the predominantly Aussie passengers prefer more informal dining options, probably enjoying a good old-fashioned barbecue instead. Since very few tables seemed to have a full complement of diners, we doubt it was a statement from the Republican movement and assumed people just couldn’t be bothered on the first night. Tomorrow will reveal more.

After our fine dining experience, we made our way to the other end of the ship for the evening’s entertainment. First up was the ship’s resident band, who played a few lively numbers. Then, a Turkish comedian took the stage. He was a familiar face to the audience from his appearances on ABC, as many of his jokes went over our heads but were well-received by those around us. That said, his ad-libs, at least the ones we understood, were genuinely funny, and he proved to be an engaging performer.

Afterwards, we retired to our cabin, and it was lights out.