Say Ah!

It’s my weakness, my nemesis, the bane of my existence; The pronunciation of my name. My parents blessed me with a name that is not said as it appears, which obviously causes a problem when meeting someone for the first time.

“Hi, I’m Andrea”

“Nice to meet you Ayndreea.”

“No, it’s Ahhhndrea”

“Oh, sorry. See you soon Ahndrayah.”

Bah.

After college, I decided to change the spelling of my name so I could be separated from the other ensemble wanna-be’s with the same name, so I added a ‘u’ to aid in the task of saying my name. Sure as shootin’, my very first professional audition, bingo! The young lady called out my name and I was singing my three and a half bars of ‘Heat Wave’. Just as quickly I heard “Thank you!” and the rest is history. (Needless to say, the Toronto production of Hairspray managed to go on without me.) Also, now that I’m married, my surname Ferrett is somewhat easier then the Czech concoction I proudly carried with me. The extra t sometimes throws people for a loop, but it hasn’t been too rough.

Recently, my first name has created some controversy amongst some people on the ship. To aid said person, we agreed that I would write out my name phonetically, and then after repeating it to him approximately 46 times, all would be right with the world. Apparently this was not the right move in the game that was my name, and said person was offended that I would do this. I now had an issue of miscommunication on my hands. Apparently after being called the wrong name over a dozen times didn’t warrant correction, and the offence I took to being called the wrong name was not valid. (In the words of Homer Simpson, “In case you can’t tell I’m being sarcastic”.)

I used to not like my name when I was little, but upon meeting a cashier with the same name at a grocery store with my Mom, she reminded me how special we were, and that so few people had the honour of having their name said differently then the typical Andrea.

I am proud of my name, and all of the nicknames that have come from it. (Thanks to Ioana for the famous Aunds/Aunnie in college.) And for those of you who after this many years still can’t pronounce my name properly, shame on you. We have all managed to let Governer Schwarzenegger's name roll of our tongues, so surely my name is the next to be conquered. Until then, I will continue to repeat my name as often as possible, and endure the several hundred variations of pronunciations that have come up over the years.

When in doubt, I will always answer to Dame Ferrett of London.

No, London, Ontario. 

Will the confusion ever end??

It's The Most Wonderful Time...

 

Drum roll please!  Ladies & Gentlemen it is officially my favourite day of the year, Christmas Eve Day!!!  (A quick reminder that my family celebrates on the 24^th in true European tradition.)  Once again my job has taken me away from the hustle and bustle that is currently happening on West Afton Place, but I have come up with my own version of the Dlouhy Christmas, a sort of ‘to-go’ version of family events for a cruise ship.  (Available for $19.95 at any local Sears Outlet Mall.)

At home, smells that permeate the house on the 24th around 1pm are indescribable.  It is the seafood chowder that my Mom tempts our taste buds with for this once a year hullabaloo.  She makes it from scratch, from memory each year.  This specialty (that will one day be bestowed upon me) contains among other delights, chunks of lobster, crab and scallops, potatoes, 4 litres of cream, and oodles of love.  This year my version of this holiday treat is a can of Pier Market Restaurant’s version of clam chowder from San Francisco.  It’s a step up from last years Campbell’s version, but it doesn’t hold a candle to my Mom’s original masterpiece.

Everyone arrives carrying Jenga-like teetering piles of presents, mainly for my niece Émilie. This year Adam & I carried our piles down deck 5, and have now forbidden each other from looking in each other’s closets.  (Insert jokes where necessary.)  We then simulate the Rudolph walk my family takes after dinner, where my Mom stays home to “do the dishes” while the remaining Dlouhy’s, (including our dog Jenny) wander around the neighbourhood in sub-zero temperatures and are allowed to return to the warmth of the living room only when the Christmas lights are turned back on.  This year I will walk around deck 7 in 30 degree Celsius sunshine while Adam “irons his work shirts”.  I can then return to the cabin to find that Santa has arrived, much like he does on West Afton Place.

After that, the festivities include visits from family friends, further investigation of presents and lots of home-made cookies, (which I have thanks to Mom and Canada Post) wine, coffee and stories.  We occasionally go to midnight mass, which this year will include me singing hymns for the passengers in the Princess Theatre accompanied by Steve Lee, our bandmaster and piano player extraordinaire. 

And so there you have it; A pint-size version of the Dlouhy Canadian Christmas brew ha-ha that can be yours for four easy payments of $4.99.  Don’t bother keeping your receipt, it won’t be necessary.  After 30 years of celebrating this way, there is no way I would ask for a refund of these events.

So to everyone from a very humid Cartagena, Colombia, I wish you a very Merry Christmas (yes, in my blog I can actually say that) and a wonderful and exciting 2011.  Wherever you are or may end up for your celebrations, may a piece of home be with you and the true meaning of Christmas remain in your hearts.

Now then, who can tell me if FedEx ships seafood soups for a reasonable price?

Silver Bells

5728!

Being in warm weather at Christmas is always a little jarring.  As a true Canadian, each winter I proudly dawn my toque (In Canada, toque, or tuque ( /ˈtuːk/), is the common name for a knit winter hat. The Canadian English term was assimilated from Canadian French tuque.)  pull on my Uggs and wrap up in a Christmas Story-like garb of coats, scarves and gloves to shovel snow, chip away at ice or try to locate my car in a series of snow drifts.  It's beautiful, it's cold, and it's Christmasy.  

Today I have the pleasure of enjoying the afternoon in Aruba, in weather that is less than winter-like.  It's 25 degrees Celcius, and I am sitting outside of a Starbucks sipping a passion iced tea wearing shorts and a tank top.  I am surrounded by Christmas decorations and images of Santa, but no matter what, it doesn't feel like Christmas.  Where's the chill in the air?  The strangers helping each other through slushy roads as their cars become lodged in unforgiving snow banks?  Where are the children making snow angels and pulling sleds up mountains of snow?  It just isn't right.

The ship is also decked out in it's Christmas finery.  It looks really nice actually, but again, mounds of cotton batting do not a winter wonderland make, so I have tried to be as festive as possible within my own cabin.  No, I have not purchased a snow machine to create an 'authentic' wonderland, but my decorating within the 7x9 cube is quite spectacular, and complete with a shipment of Mom's Christmas cookies, I'm ready for the 24th to arrive.

As nice as it is doing this job, sometimes I wish that for just 48 hours it would snow and create that chilled peace that is a Canadian Christmas.  (Remind me of this next year when I'm cursing the weather and crying to get back to a ship!)

For now, I guess I'll just have to endure the sun and sand, and enjoy my Target-bought winter wonderland that is cabin 5728.  I'll even wear my toque sometimes!

Out with the old...

I am in a transition phase at the moment, and I am really NOT good with change. I am in what we “cruisies”(that’s what we call ourselves, I swear) call install. Install is when the cast comes onto the ship and earns our full contract pay in the first 10 days by working 13 hours a day, every day. Alright, I exaggerate slightly, but it truly is the most exhausting part of the contract, emotionally and physically. We work diligently to get all the production shows up, go to training, do costume fittings, move into our new cabins and become acquainted with the new ship trying not to break any of the 374 rules we were briefed on in the first five minutes of being on board. We eat and sleep in between all of these things, and while we perform one show at night, we are rehearsing three different shows during the day. It’s nuts, and it’s a big love/hate relationship with the job. We love to hate our job.

This install period is quite different from any I’ve done before. I chose to extend on the good ol’ Island Princess until June, making my contract a full year here. So while performing for the final time with my previous (or OLD cast as they kept saying) I was also enjoying debut performances with my new cast. It was so odd. I felt like I was having an affair on my previous cast. By day I would joke around with and get to know my new cast mates, and at night I would celebrate birthdays and carry on with my current cast. I felt sneaky and secretive. It was also very odd to see my cast in the audience as spectators rather then sharing the stage with them. Now, before any of my new cast members read this and think “Oh, well. She doesn’t like us newbies!” Not so! I am very lucky to have a lovely bunch of eager, talented performers to take me through the next 6 months of my life, but as my fellow singer Eric pointed out, you become a little family at sea, and no matter how your family gets along, you are a team, and when your team disbands, it’s hard to witness, and it’s always the most difficult when you’re the one left behind.

I chose my fate, and I don’t regret my decision, (my niece is not thrilled with my decision but she doesn’t pay my Visa bill) but as I get over the first cruise hump of “I should have been home”-itis, I of course look back on the past six months and remember a lot of laughs, a lot of crazy stories, and a lot of crazy people. (You know who you are...Becky.) Anyway, like I said, through good times and bad our crazy family stuck together, dragging each other through hell and back, and even to the gym to do Turbo Jam when all I wanted to do was sleep. So, to any of you Shenanigans who take the time to read this, thank you for everything this contract. And to my new cast, thank you for making me feel like a member of your family so quickly. We’re going to have a lot of fun.

Seriously though, is it June 8th yet?