"There goes my everything"
I don't do gluten. I must have told Hurtigruten this at some point because at my dinner placing there's a little label saying gluten free. Each evening I get a gluten free starter - last night it was vegetable and barley soup - without the barley. Dish water would have tasted better! We have bread and butter on the table but none is labeled gluten free. Breakfast and lunch is buffet style so I have to take my chances as there is no labelling.
The huge crabs (above) - a Russian invader which the Norwegian delight in telling us and eating - greet you every time you go for a meal. They look out of their watery prison with expressions of pain and bewilderment.
Last night's evening meal ended spectacularly. We were just about to leave when the ship lurched so violently that plates, glasses and some passengers were flung to the floor. Huge catering trolleys went from one end of the serving galley to the next and people in wheelchairs were held back by an army of strong Norwegian navvies.
Getting out of the dining room was like leaving the local pissed out of your head. There are two heavy glass doors at the entrance to the dining area and they were swinging loose. I bravely held one door open along with a crew member as dinner guests stumbled through. On the deck bodies were contorted in unusual shapes - heads in sick bags, with elderly ladies being bucked up and down by the violent sea. It was slaughter out there. Also the poor crabs lost half their water from the tank.
We were the 6 o'clock dinner crowd: the next were to eat at 8 o'clock. Over the tannoy it was announced that that meal time had been postponed due to the risk of soup and soup plates landing in laps and bodies on floor. I suspect none of the 8 o'clockers complained about the delay.
Our next port of call Rorvik sheltered behind a large group of islands and in time we entered calmer waters and the postponed dinner was on again.
It's still raining, we've crossed the Arctic Circle in our summer clothes: that's how mild it is and I'm not sure what the exciting programme is today. We spend over 2 hrs in Bodo so it's another walk in the rain. In the evening as we sail through the Lofoten Islands and for a few brave hearts aViking dinner on shore - one to miss...
The huge crabs (above) - a Russian invader which the Norwegian delight in telling us and eating - greet you every time you go for a meal. They look out of their watery prison with expressions of pain and bewilderment.
Last night's evening meal ended spectacularly. We were just about to leave when the ship lurched so violently that plates, glasses and some passengers were flung to the floor. Huge catering trolleys went from one end of the serving galley to the next and people in wheelchairs were held back by an army of strong Norwegian navvies.
Getting out of the dining room was like leaving the local pissed out of your head. There are two heavy glass doors at the entrance to the dining area and they were swinging loose. I bravely held one door open along with a crew member as dinner guests stumbled through. On the deck bodies were contorted in unusual shapes - heads in sick bags, with elderly ladies being bucked up and down by the violent sea. It was slaughter out there. Also the poor crabs lost half their water from the tank.
We were the 6 o'clock dinner crowd: the next were to eat at 8 o'clock. Over the tannoy it was announced that that meal time had been postponed due to the risk of soup and soup plates landing in laps and bodies on floor. I suspect none of the 8 o'clockers complained about the delay.
Our next port of call Rorvik sheltered behind a large group of islands and in time we entered calmer waters and the postponed dinner was on again.
It's still raining, we've crossed the Arctic Circle in our summer clothes: that's how mild it is and I'm not sure what the exciting programme is today. We spend over 2 hrs in Bodo so it's another walk in the rain. In the evening as we sail through the Lofoten Islands and for a few brave hearts aViking dinner on shore - one to miss...
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