A Greek Affair

by Linn B. Halton

  The lavish display of the lifestyle of the rich and famous is reflected in the sparkling white boats moored up, almost as far as the eye can see. This is how the other half live. As we walk towards the ship it seems to loom up like a huge, white mountain and it feels decadent. The sheer scale is breathtaking and as it gleams, with the beautiful blues of the sky and the sea as a backdrop, it almost looks unreal. Like some clever computer graphic that is so perfect it tricks the eye and the scene suddenly comes alive.

  We are quickly welcomed aboard the Vista Blue by the cruise director and some other members of the crew. While we’re waiting for our cabins to be made ready we’re shown into a large room where there’s a buffet all laid out in readiness. Waiters circulate with glasses of wine, cocktails and soft drinks. I simply follow on behind Harrison and after we fill our plates he indicates towards a large table in the centre of the room. We exchange quick ‘hellos’ with the two couples already seated. He’s good at engaging people in conversation and it’s helping to alleviate my nerves as I settle myself down next to him.

  As more couples join our table, everyone seems eager to share where they are from and their previous experiences onboard cruise ships. There is a real buzz in the air. Half an hour later our names are called and we are split into small groups. Just before we go off in different directions to be escorted to our cabins, Harrison turns to me.

  ‘Do you have any plans for after you’re settled in? We don’t sail until eleven tonight and it seems a pity not to spend at least a couple of hours sightseeing. What do you think?’

  I wasn’t expecting that and I’m not sure if I should take him up on the offer.

  ‘I’d love to, but I ought to start work. It’s a huge ship and I want my report to cover as much as possible.’

  He looks disappointed. ‘Okay. But as an experienced sea dog I know my way around a ship and I’d be happy to do the tour with you. This is actually my second trip on the Vista Blue, so I know the shortcuts.’

  It’s tempting but I’m not sure I feel totally comfortable attaching myself to a stranger.

  ‘Nothing too strenuous,’ he continues. ‘We’ll catch a taxi into Monte Carlo, walk a part of the F1 circuit and then head off in the direction of the casino. You can’t possibly write a review without selling the benefits of a few hours in port now, can you?’

  I find myself laughing at him. ‘Okay. I’ll trust that you’ll get us back in plenty of time before the ship sails. Or I’ll be in big trouble.’

  ‘I’m very trustworthy.’ He winks at me as we part ways.

  At least our cabins don’t appear to be anywhere near each other and I fleetingly wonder if I’ll be glad of that fact.

  ‘I’ll meet you back here in an hour,’ Harrison calls over his shoulder. ‘Wear comfortable shoes, it’s quite a walk.’

  ‘This way,’ our stewardess calls and I quicken my pace to catch up with the little group to which I’ve been assigned.

  A Floating Mirage

  Life doesn’t get any more surreal than this, I reflect. The stewardess looking after my suite is aware that I’m a travel blogger, which takes me by surprise. If the welcome she gives me is the same welcome she gives to all her passengers, then I’m very impressed. She also hands me a folder with lots of information about the ship itself, which I assume is to help inform my article.

  As for the suite itself, well, it’s way beyond any expectations I had. Obviously, everything is new but the marble-lined bathroom has what the stewardess referred to as a rainforest shower experience and a separate bath. It also has low level lighting for nighttime use. The walk-in storage space for my clothes is more than adequate for quite a long stay, but then it is a double suite. Everything feels sumptuous – in shades of cream, keeping it light and bright, but with vivid splashes of lime green and rich purples to give it a contemporary feel.

  An even bigger surprise is the balcony, with floor to ceiling glass doors, which I wasn’t expecting. It’s a generous size at probably around ninety square feet. Totally unbelievable! I feel spoilt, as if this is all too good to be true.

  I’m conscious that time is slipping away and I don’t even bother to investigate the minibar, or try out the impressively-sized TV. I glance longingly at the crisp, white bed linens with the furry purple throw and cushions. I feel like collapsing down onto it and drifting off into a peaceful sleep, but instead I spritz my face with some cold water and apply a little lip gloss.

  The route back down to the Observation Bar to meet Harrison isn’t quite as straightforward as I thought it would be and I’m a few minutes late.

  ‘I thought you’d stood me up,’ he calls out, walking towards me.

  My face must reflect the panic that starts to rise in my stomach, then he begins laughing.

  ‘Sorry, I’m teasing and it’s confession time. I do have a vested interest in making sure your report covers all bases. When I said I work in finance, I do: for the parent company which owns the entire fleet of cruise ships. For me it’s a cheap break away, I’m afraid. It’s a hard life, isn’t it?’ He grins at me and he has no idea how glad I am to hear that in one way, although maybe not the other.

  ‘Did you know I was coming?’ I ask, relieved that at least he’s not looking for an onboard romance. But also a little puzzled as to why he didn’t say something earlier on.

  He stops laughing and gives me a frown.

  ‘No, of course, not.’ He sounds a little offended. ‘I started speaking to you because I was simply being friendly. When you travel alone you learn to make an effort and I find that people are generally very receptive. But when you told me why you were here I thought you, too, might appreciate a little company. I’m guessing that you don’t often travel without a companion, to be so suspicious of my motives?’

  Am I being just a tad paranoid here?

  ‘Rarely. My companion is usually my nine-year-old daughter. It’s just that my report will need to be totally independent and I can’t be influenced in any way. I mean, everything I’ve seen so far is top quality but I’m also here to discover any potential downside to what’s on offer.’

  He strokes his chin, his eyes filled with laughter once again.

  ‘You think I’m trying to influence you? I’m afraid I’m not that clever; my skills lie with getting the numbers to work. I’ve always wanted to walk the F1 circuit; just the bit from the start of the tunnel up through and around the infamous Grand Hotel hairpin bend. With that in mind, I put together a little sightseeing programme to while away a few hours before I head back to the ship for dinner. It involves some walking and a bit of jumping in and out of taxis. Seriously, there is no catch and sitting next to you on the shuttle bus was a total fluke, I promise. I’m a nice guy, really. Recently divorced, no kids and a big mortgage so I can’t do anything to jeopardise my income. I’d be silly to try to meddle, now, wouldn’t I?’

  My eyes scan his face and, in fairness, he has an innocent look about him. He is very attractive with his light-brown hair and those murky-grey eyes. I’m guessing he’s maybe ten years older than me, so early forties. Relax, Leah, because this is what you do for a living now and you can hitch a ride here with someone who already has a little tour put together. What possible harm can it do?

  ~

  We walk back along the quayside to the terminal, where there’s a taxi waiting for us. Harrison gives the driver some directions and settles back in his seat.

  ‘Prep for the race starts about six weeks before the day, so they are already nearly a month into it,’ he informs me.

  It isn’t long before the driver pulls over to park up and Harrison points to the start/finish line. Today the traffic is free flowing, but busy. It’s hard to believe that in two weeks’ time it will turn from a normal, busy road into a starting grid. Harrison taps the partition and asks the driver to wait nearby for us, giving him a thank you nod. Maybe inspired by his position on the grid, the guy then rams the car into gear and pulls away from the kerb a little too fast for my likin
g. Aside from some marks on the road where the cars line up, there isn’t very much to see, but Harrison seems satisfied.

  ‘Now we’re heading off to the tunnel. It will probably take us a couple, maybe three hours with coffee stops, before we jump in a taxi to take us back to the ship. Are you happy?’

  I’m already snapping away, taking as many photos as I can in the hope that at least a couple of them will be useable.

  ‘Perfect. The coffee is on me and let me know what the taxis cost and I’ll split it with you, it’s the least I can do.’

  He grimaces. ‘I’m a man who has learnt the hard way that it doesn’t pay to argue with a woman.’ He defers to my request and I can see he isn’t really happy but then, this isn’t a date. I know he works for the company but it is always a comfort to have someone to chat to when you are on your own, and it’s still a generous offer.

  It’s clear that while everything is functioning normally, preparations for the race are well underway. There is a hive of activity going on with staging and scaffolding being set up at various points on our journey.

  Getting back in the taxi, it’s only another short ride before Harrison taps on the partition again and we pull up in a layby. Proceeding on foot, the trek through the tunnel is great fun and it turns out to be surprisingly ordinary and very narrow, so there isn’t much to see. However, as we walk along on the right-hand side we catch views out over the sea, a constant reminder of our stunning location. Looking down onto the hypnotically blue ocean there are some craggy rocks and a seagull stands surveying the scene. Simply knowing F1 cars will be whizzing through this section again soon is a little thrill.

  ‘I can’t believe racing cars drive through here,’ I exclaim.

  ‘I think their speed drops down to around thirty miles per hour as it’s so tight. There is a long list of cars that have hit into the walls on the bend, or in the tunnel itself. Overtaking isn’t an issue because it’s impossible; keeping your wits about you and getting a good steering lock on is what this part of the race is all about.’

  I guess he’s a big fan. I do watch the highlights as I have a passing interest, but only because I think Lewis Hamilton is so charismatic that he’s well worth watching.

  As we climb higher and higher the views are unbelievable. It’s steep, tight and must be very difficult to navigate given the length of the cars. My calf muscles are screaming already and I struggle to keep up.

  Because it’s so tiring on the legs we stop twice for coffee. The highlight for me is the Place du Casino, a lavish public square in Monaco’s most famous of neighbourhoods. Also on the square is the Monte Carlo Opera House. Two stunning buildings in a perfect setting, as the square features an impressive fountain and a terrace with jaw dropping views of the coastline.

  This leads us on to the Jardin Exotique, which is in the more modern section of Monaco and borders on the older, historic centre. Perched on a steep cliff it, too, looks out across the dazzlingly beautiful sea vista. Lush vegetation and a climate that doesn’t have wildly diverse extremes means that the hillside conditions are perfect for tropical plants and succulents. The craggy mountainside is covered with a plethora of species from Africa, Latin America, Cape Town and even Mexico.

  Being away from the roads the air is sweet and clear; only the slight breeze gives a little relief from the balmy heat. Breathing in the warmth and the tang from the sea, it’s intermingled with little whiffs of fragrances given off by the blooms on some of the luscious and more exotic plants. I can see that Harrison is equally impressed.

  ‘If I was wealthy, I’d probably be fawning over the rather expensive shops we’ve walked past on our way here. But I’ve seen everything I need to give my readers a tiny glimpse into the delights on offer and I’m thrilled about that. I’m so glad you talked me into doing this today,’ I admit.

  Harrison is not only a good companion, but he’s knowledgeable. I feel like I have a tour guide accompanying me. I’m surprised how quickly the afternoon passes before it’s time to flag down another taxi and return to the ship.

  We arrive back at the quayside shortly before half past five, after a very enjoyable few hours. My notepad is full of jottings and I have taken probably thirty, or even forty, photographs.

  When we part, I thank Harrison and shake his hand. He’s interesting and I’m really enjoying his company but it’s disappointing that I’m not feeling any chemistry between us. Even though he is a head-turner. But then I haven’t really looked at a man since Antonio left. I assumed that was because getting my life back onto an even keel required all my focus. But what if I’m never going to feel that flush of excitement over someone again? What if it wasn’t just my pride that was shattered when Antonio left? What if there’s something permanently damaged inside of me? Maybe I’m just not worthy of having someone’s love because I can’t seem to hold onto it.

  ‘Ah, is this my dismissal?’

  ‘No, more of an apology,’ I admit. ‘I will still need to be taking notes and photographs to record the details ready for my write-up. It’s too easy to forget this isn’t just a holiday for me. So, it won’t be the usual relaxing dinner and leisurely browse around the ship, I’m afraid. I don’t think it’s fair that I inflict that on you.’ And I don’t want to mislead you in any way, my conscience is urging me to add, but I instantly dismiss that thought.

  A part of me is hoping he’ll brush it off and suggest we meet up anyway, just for the company, but he doesn’t. Suddenly I find myself feeling the teensiest bit disappointed.

  Don’t Judge a Book by its Cover

  After a long Skype session with Rosie and an hour on social media, I can’t wait to hit the shower.

  I am excited and in a good mood, but it is rather lonely. I’m used to sharing pretty much everything with Rosie and it feels odd to be away from home for a few days without her. She would have loved this entire experience, but school is more important and she’ll thank me for honouring that principle when she’s older. I hope.

  It’s rather daunting now that I’m ready as there are seven very different styles of restaurant onboard. Leafing through the details in the handbook I decide to opt for the chic, Parisian fine dining located on deck ten, aft. Aft? Well, it might take a little while for me to get my bearings, that’s for sure.

  I head out to the elevator and it’s easy enough to find the right deck. As I’m not sure where exactly the restaurant is located, I’m going to tag along behind a small group of people who look like they are dressed for a very special dining experience. I was worried my second-best posh frock would be a little over the top, but now I’m relieved as it isn’t at all out of place. The silky, knee-length lilac dress is simple but it stands out. My hair is twisted up and pinned on top, to complement the open back that falls just above my waistline in a cowl. It’s elegant, easy to wear and, thankfully, doesn’t crease. The dress might not make the woman, but it certainly gives this woman a much-needed confidence boost.

  La Maison Chapelle is indeed very chic and has that old-world sense of romantic elegance about the décor. I wait in the small queue, hoping they will be able to find me a table because I didn’t have time to make a reservation.

  ‘We are pretty full tonight, I’m afraid. If you are happy to wait about forty-five minutes then I’m sure I can get a table ready for you, Madam.’ The young woman addressing me is wearing a very smart black waistcoat over a crisp, white shirt. With tapered black trousers and a black apron, she looks every inch a Parisian waitress. But her accent indicates she’s probably from New York and that makes me smile.

  ‘Thank you, that would be lovely.’ I turn on my heels and there, in front of me is Harrison, smiling.

  ‘Actually, I have a reservation for eight o’clock and Ms Castelli is with me. Harrison Buchanan.’

  ‘Ah, Mr Buchanan, of course. Please step this way.’

  I flash him a grateful smile and he indicates for me to go ahead of him. We are shown to a corner table for two and Harrison insists that he si
t with his back to the room.

  ‘You have to see what’s going on if you’re going to be making notes.’ He grins at me.

  ‘How did you know I would be here?’ I ask, rather cautiously awaiting his answer.

  ‘I didn’t. I love French food and I booked a table as soon as I arrived. But then I’ve eaten here before on Vista Blue’s maiden voyage. I like the ambience but I will be honest and say that I wasn’t relishing the thought of eating alone.’

  Now I feel guilty.

  ‘Sorry, I wasn’t trying to put you off earlier on. I simply felt that I’m not really going to be good company. Plus, I’m feeling kind of overwhelmed by the size of the ship, if I’m being honest with you. I had no idea of the real scale involved and thought I could aimlessly wander around to discover everything I needed to see.’

  It takes us a few minutes to decide on a bottle of wine and peruse the menu. It all looks good and we both go for the terrine of foie gras. I decide upon the coquille Saint Jacques sea scallops and Harrison orders the beef ribs.

  ‘Yes, it can take a while to find your way around,’ he remarks.

  I’m trying not to stare at him so I let my eyes drift around the restaurant, taking in the lavish decoration. Alongside the entrance there is an intimate and cosy little bar, which leads into the larger dining area. The inlaid marble floor adds to the nostalgic atmosphere, with gold filigree screens and metal accents replicating the ironwork of the Eiffel Tower.

  ‘Timeless, isn’t it? This could as easily be a setting for a classic movie. I can just imagine Cary Grant walking through, accompanied by one of those glamorous starlets.’