7th March 2016

After breakfast and a shower, we made our way to a 9:30 am lecture on the ‘Seychelles: Granite & Coral Islands’. As usual, it was both fascinating and packed with practical advice on where to go, how to get there, and a stern warning to be mindful of the sun.

All that talk of sunny adventures left us feeling thirsty, so we stopped for a coffee. Refreshed, Sue headed off to a culinary demonstration titled ‘Garganelli with Clams, Lemon Zest, and Pistachio Pesto’, while I returned to the cabin.

Though my urchin-spiked foot felt okay, I could still feel one stubborn spike buried deep and was determined to deal with it. I tracked down Nino, our Filipino steward, who kindly provided a bucket. I half-filled it with hot water and sat in the cabin, soaking my foot for half an hour while reading my book, hoping to soften the skin.

Sue arrived back from the demo just as I was drying off. Armed with a needle, she examined my sole and managed to dig out four more spikes (where had they been hiding?), but the elusive offender remained unseen. Determined, I twisted my foot to get a better angle and took over, carving a couple of deep holes with the needle. Whether I succeeded, I can’t say; there was too much blood to tell, but the sharp stabbing pain seemed to have disappeared. The foot now hurts more, likely from the newly created chasms. I cleaned it thoroughly with an alcohol pad and covered the wounds with a plaster.

At lunch, we found ourselves seated next to Aylo, the Dutch gentleman we’d met before. Once again, it was nearly impossible to get a word in edgewise. His Canadian wife had passed away three years ago, and he now cruises solo, living in Holland in retirement. A former international banker, Aylo’s career had taken him around the world, with ING being his final posting. When his wife died, he decided to call it a day.

He regaled us with tales of his jet-setting lifestyle, detailing the places he’d lived, the minimal effort his job required, and the perks of his privileged existence, everything you’d rather not hear if you’d lost money in the 2008 financial crisis. While his lifestyle sounded enviable, it was clear that without his wife, he was now a lonely and melancholy figure. I couldn’t help but feel just a tinge of pity for him.

After lunch, I headed to the gym despite my sore foot, which held up fine. Meanwhile, Sue settled on deck with her book and was treated to a brief performance by last night’s Gospel Quartet. With temperatures soaring over 30 degrees, they only managed a few songs before retreating to the cool confines of the ship.

We reconvened at 3 pm for a lecture titled ‘Touristic Tips: Mahé, Salalah, and Aqaba’. I arrived ten minutes late to find Sue seated with Aylo, who was still in full flow, chatting away. Armed with yet more useful insights about our upcoming destinations, we went for coffee. Against my better judgement, I succumbed to some dainty sandwiches, and Sue indulged in biscuits and pizza. I felt a pang of guilt, but Sue brushed it off with a reminder that we’re on holiday.

Back at the cabin, Sue promptly fell asleep on the bed. I settled by the window with my book, occasionally glancing at the sea, half-hoping to spot some clue of the missing Malaysian flight drifting by. When my tablet’s battery ran low, I switched to charging it and watched a film on TV while Sue continued to sleep soundly.

Thoughtfully, she woke just in time for dinner. The evening’s entertainment featured a talented African singer with a beautiful voice. However, we couldn’t help but notice that the front-row seats were once again occupied by the same group of people. They barely moved or reacted to the music or dancing, leaving us wondering if they were even alive. It must be soul-crushing for the performers to face such an unresponsive audience night after night.

After the show, we planned to take a brisk walk around the deck, but upon stepping outside, we discovered it was raining! Plan B quickly came into effect, and we spent the remainder of the evening listening to a piano player in one of the bars before retiring for the night.