We explored the ship for the rest of the day, visiting the gym, where I worked out for a while, then we discovered what they called an art gallery. Later, we checked in with the language professor for some French lessons, which Timothy scheduled me for every day from then on (10:00 – noon.)
After lunch, where we dined on tacos, frijoles, and chips, we swam in the ship’s Olympic-sized pool. No kids were allowed, so we really did get to swim some laps. I was completely out of shape and only did five, but Timothy kept going for a half-hour.
Watched over by Ben and Daniel, who’d finally come out of hiding, I was quite content to dry out in the sun. Nothing is more relaxing.
Oh, and that evening, we did go to the musical show. All four guys, which Timothy deemed to be necessary. There was absolutely no reason for heavy guard duty. No one paid us any attention. Everyone was watching the show.
But all in all it was a great first day. I was completely bowled over by how wonderful life on a cruise ship was. And the food, oh, my stars and stripes! Good thing the ship had all those pools, gyms, and the jogging path. At dinner, I splurged on a piece of German chocolate cake. Yum.
The next morning was similar. We swam, jogged, and I used the weights at the gym. Bob teased me a bit for using wimpy ones. He took the heaviest dumbbells and with a couple of grunts, lifted them more times than I cared to count. Show off.
Terry hovered over me, working out on a stairstep. He was a showoff, too. That was one piece of equipment that always seemed like torture to me. My legs always complained after a five minute workout.
The most interesting part of the day was the French lesson. Timothy already spoke French, as did Daniel, so they sat outside the room where my lesson took place. Terry and Bob actually came inside with me. They weren’t really supposed to take part in the lesson, but as they waited in two chairs over in the corner, they seemed equally intrigued in learning the language.
The instructor, Monsieur Betron, was a petite man with overly black hair which he kept tied in a ponytail at the back of his neck. He wore a moustache just like the villain I’d seen in an old time melodrama where the man insisted the beautiful young woman must marry him or else.
My favorite part of that play had been the people all around us booing and hissing whenever Mr. Dowrong came on stage. It had been great fun to attend. It had been Cara’s treat to us to celebrate Sammy’s birthday one year.
But Monsieur Betron, even though he looked like that quarrelsome, evil villain, was actually a big softie. He introduced me to the verb avoir and had me speaking in simple sentences that would be perfectly acceptable for a four-year-old. J’ai un chat. (I have a cat. I wish.) J’ai un chien. (I have a dog.) and a bunch of other variations. I even learned how to ask someone if they had a dog or a cat: Avez-vous un chien? Avez-vous un chat?
I hoped that future lessons would lead me into more useful dialogue unless France was big on conversations concerning cats and dogs.