The ship filled up the whole of Circular Quay, or so it seemed. Crowds were clustered around and about the side, and the luggage collection area was like a disturbed ants nest. Outwardly a chaotic shambles, in reality a well organised bustle, with each of the ants knowing their job and doing it well.
We approached the embarkation area, passports, customs forms and illness forms clutched in our hands. Prepared for the usual long and seemingly indeterminable wait. Pleasantly surprised we found ourselves seated next to the pool, sipping cool beers within 20 minutes.
Our Junior Suite was clean, spacious and had a view of the Opera House. We were to have no major complaints about it, despite the ceiling light fitting we found on the floor after the last port of call, or the toilet roll holder that fell off after day 2 and didn't get fixed until day 6, or the telephone that kept flashing a red light even when there was no message, or the closet light that would, on occasion, switch on whenever the ship rolled.