We are in Lisbon and have just boarded the Oceania Allura. She is a brand new ship which has only been sailing for two months. Everything is pristine and glamorous.
Well not quite eveything!
Although he obviously thinks he is.
He is in one of the shops on board – presumably looking for some clothes that fit!
We have booked a table in Toscana – their Italian restaurant – for the first night. The Maitre D’ leads us through the restaurant – it is a long walk, and heads turn as we pass by. I would like to think that it is my devastating good looks, but I suspect it is actually because I am wearing the boot. It is rather heavy, and makes a loud clomping noise everytime it lands on the tile floor. It reminds me of the childrens’ joke about the centipede with a wooden leg. 99, clomp.
We get the best table in the house
So maybe it is my devasting good looks!
Because of the sloping windows we sit facing the view and can’t see what is going on behind us.
After a few minutes I feel a hand on my shoulder. I can’t see who it is but it is an affectionate hand. And then a head comes down to the side of my face and a male voice with a heavy accent says
“I saw you walking through the restaurant and I really hoped you would be coming to my table. And here you are. I am so happy”. He moves round so that I can see him. He is not too tall, and not too short, not to fat, and not to thin, not too handsome and not too plain. In fact, he is not too anything, except attentive. But I have to say I have never been greeted like this before by a waiter, or by anyone, come to think of it.
I sort of like it.
“My name is Harsh” he says.
I think I must have misheard him, so I look at his name tag, and Harsh really is his name.
“I am here to serve you” he continues, with a twinkle in his eye.
By this time, he has taken my hand and is holding it in his. It’s an extraordinary introduction. It’s either love at first sight, or he wants a big tip. I assume it is love at first sight!
But then he turns to face Gordon. And in a flash our love affair is over. It only lasted a few seconds, but I will take what I can get.
Dear readers, those of you who have been reading my blog for years may remember the devastating effects Gordon had on the men of India, when we were there. Well Harsh is from India, and Gordon is having that effect again.
Harsh goes all limp and giggles. He reaches out and holds Gordon’s hand now. What a fickle hussy.
From that moment on it is all about Gordon. Not only have I been discarded, but worse still, I have been forgotten. For the rest of the evening I look at Harsh’s back while he focuses all his attention on Gordon.
He hands us the menus and tells us (well, he tells Gordon) a little bit about it. And then looking directly at Gordon he says
“Whatever you want, just let me know, and I will make sure you have it”
Gordon is lapping it up. He doesn’t seem to realise that this is just Harsh making sure he gets a good tip!
Dear readers, you know when some Indian men talk, their heads tend to waggle from side to side? Well Harsh’s head does just that. As the evening goes on and the innuendos keep flying and Harsh gets more excited, his head waggles more and more and faster and faster. By the end of the evening I am wondering if his head will fly off.
That would be terrible. I really hope it doesn’t!
When it’s time for desert, we tell him we don’t want any. He looks at Gordon and says “perhaps I can get you something later”
I get ready to catch his head.
As we leave, he insists that I take a photo of him and Gordon.
Really!
Gordon seems to be hanging on to him way too tightly.
Harsh gives me his email and asks me to send the photograph to him.
Right!
I must remember to do that.
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