Arriving on board the Amalegro soon after midday, we left our luggage, already tagged with our names and cabin number, in the care of a charming young man who assured us that it would be taken to our cabin. Once the registrations were dealt with, we were invited to help ourselves to soup and sandwiches in the lounge.
A quick stroll around the deck after lunch and we were summoned to follow our pretty young attendant to cabin 229. As this was my third cruise with Ama Waterways, I knew what to expect, but Sue’s smile was so wide I thought she might burst with happiness and excitement.
Exploring every cupboard and deciding where to put our belongings seemed to occupy most of the next few hours, although we also took loads of photos, big grins in evidence in all of them.
One of the many occasions when we double bunked with another ship while docked.
Welcoming cocktails at six, saw us back in the lounge, champagnes in hand, looking rather glamourous for a couple of grandmas. We sat down with two equally glamourous ladies from Canada and with the arrival of another three Canadians, we became the fun group for the week. They became real friends and we still keep in touch.
Two sips of champagne and my dear sister is tipsy, so, with this adding to her already burstingly happy state, I wondered if she’d float away. Canapés were served while our cruise manager, a delightful French (?) lady, introduced some of the crew – hotel manager, engineer, executive chef, maitre‘d (more about him later), the purser and head housekeeper.
Then Captain Dany arrived, at a run, gasping and apologizing in indecipherable English, presumably for being late. Annie, the cruise manager, insisted that our captain should welcome us in English, but as the man had only been learning the language for four months, this didn’t work.
Sue and I felt uncomfortable for him but also with him. A small man in his early thirties, he looked far too young to captain the ship, although he repeatedly told us that he’d been in the business for many years. He giggled like a nervous child and was too agitated for me to feel confident.
Dinner was then served in the dining room, without Captain Dany, who excused himself on the grounds that he must be on duty, preparing for our departure later that evening.
After dinner, with all guests up on the top deck, we sailed a short distance towards the Eiffel Tower which was lit up as the sky darkened. 
At eleven o’clock it sparkled, from top to bottom, like a pulsating Christmas tree. With the Statue of Liberty also glowing nearby, everyone focused on cameras and the spectacle before us.
Sue and I were equally entranced but, because we stood beside the captain’s upper wheelhouse, we couldn’t help noticing the way he darted about, seemingly not in command as one would expect a captain to be. Another crew member, (I think the engineer), spoke curtly to the captain. The language was foreign, but his manner was clear as he took command of a manoeuvre involving another cruise ship which came close to colliding with us.
After the excitement—Eiffel Tower returned to normal lighting, our ship turned around and heading for Normandy, crew apparently resuming their usual roles—we retired for the night.
The next morning at breakfast, rumours were rife about our little captain being taken off the ship during the night. We didn’t see him again and were without a captain for a couple of days. We wondered if alcohol, possibly meant to calm his nerves, had affected his judgement and caused his odd behavior. With a much anticipated trip to Monet’s house and garden ahead of us, we enjoyed our lavish breakfast and were soon ready with sunscreen, hats and hiking boots.