Rainy Amalia(Dill McLain) “That’s all for nothing! It was a waste of time all along the line! And I could have just as well locked myself in somewhere in a wooden hut in a far valley in the Alps, and it would have brought the same result!” She hissed rather angrily towards the large window of her cabin on the massive cruise ship, touring from Buenos Aires around South America to Santiago de Chile, and stamped several times with her feet to the floor, to underline her bitterly spoken lines.

“All these efforts, all the money spent on clothes and gym-crap, fashion jewelry and expensive haircuts as well as body peelings and face treatments and much more, was absolutely unnecessary! No outcome at all!” She began to sniff a bit.

“And then all this hope, this self-created joy and great anticipation that after the cruise nothing would be like before, but a wonderful new era would begin in my life! Total rubbish! How come I was such a fool to believe in such fairy tales? I must have gone mad! Nobody that I would want in turn wants me, and the ones who want me are the ones I do not want, by no means!” She sank on the small sofa and pulled her legs up, staring through the glass of the window out into the grey and rainy landscape slowly passing by. Some small tears were rolling down her cheeks.

* * *

Amalia was a quite attractive lady in her late forties. She had been working in an exciting position for a large, international enterprise in the field of chemistry. In her personal life, she had been less successful and had been in the past twenty years hit by several difficult relations that all could not be repaired in the end. A few months ago, after a long and delightful summer evening with friends, she had decided to take another initiative to find a suitable partner, and she had then planned to go on this trip on a cruise ship around the Cape Horn. She had soon booked the trip and then began to prepare her journey, filled with high expectation and real hope about the perfect outcome. In a certain way, she had been thoroughly carried away by this project and at the same time been persuaded that luck would come towards her in the form of the perfect man!

Before the cruise, she had spent a few days in Buenos Aires enjoying this beautiful and exciting city, already with the uplifting joy inside her of the still unknown, but in any case arriving prince, with whom she would then spend her future life. She had gone out with organized tours every night in Buenos Aires and found life was terrific. Then came the day of going aboard the giant cruise ship, and she had felt very excited and almost high-spirited. She had been anxiously spending the first hours on board looking forward to the upcoming ice-breaker-party where all the single travelers would gather. She had immediately booked a session at the hairdresser on board, and then very carefully prepared, applying an almost diva-like make-up, and wearing a very popular overall in heavy red silk. The shock had come immediately after entering the said bar. Already at first glance around her, she had noticed that there had either been male travelers present who had seemed much younger than herself. Or then, there had been quite a large number of really ancient-looking men, some elegantly dressed, others rather ordinary looking, not inviting attraction at all. Several men had approached her in the course of said ice-breaker-party. However, most of them had been between seventy and eighty years old. Of course, they all had been extremely enthusiastic about talking and telling her all about themselves at once. And they all had intended to invite her to all sorts of events on the boat. Then there had been about three young men who obviously had been on the search for a kind of a mother type, for which she had not been ready to develop an understanding. The bare thought had even made her shudder.

The only man of about her age had been a rather shy Canadian who told her of his large house on a giant piece of land inherited from his ancestors. He had shown her many photos to make it palatable to her. But she had almost felt dizzy thinking about how she would have to sit on horseback to ride many hours across that countryside, which he had already begun to paint to her in all details. He seemed quite intelligent but was extremely taciturn, except when he had been talking about his house and land. After searching around with her eyes on that evening, she then finally had concluded that there had not been much choice. Finally, she had fixed an appointment for dinner with an older gentleman from Texas. And for the next evening, she had accepted the invitation to the theatre by the Canadian.

She had not been extremely enthusiastic about both these dates, but better than nothing, she had thought. And of course, moving around the large cruise ship might reveal a not-yet-visible treasure of a wonderful male who had not participated in the ice-breaker-party, she had figured out.

A large number of the passengers had gone on the next day for all sorts of exciting excursions ashore, and the others had spread themselves throughout the ship, attending some of the courses or lectures offered, or then relaxing in one of the numerous deck chairs. She had decided to join the latter ones. After a long stroll to examine the many facilities, Amalia had installed herself in a deck chair a bit away from the leading music and action spot. But still, she had been sitting close enough to watch what was going on from behind her vast sunglasses while pretending to read one of the latest bestsellers of a famous author. One should show that one was on the current and taking part in the world. After a short nap, she had a drink at one of the bars on the upper deck, and while sipping from her glass, she had thought about the upcoming meeting for dinner with the Texan widower. Well, maybe the evening would become a great success, and the man might turn out to be a great Texan gentleman, and most unexpected perspectives would arise.

She had prepared very carefully for the date, choosing an elegant two-piece dress in yellow, matching sling pumps and decent jewelry, and very natural make-up. The Texan widower had greeted her with a certain anxiety in his face. He had had already ordered a bottle of white wine according to his taste – Chablis – which she had found a bit disturbing because she would have preferred something sparkling. He had hardly looked at her but immediately started to talk, jumping right into his topic, namely the properties he owned in a place about three hours away of a larger town in Texas. He had spoken like a sales agent persuaded of the fact that what he had been talking about was the most importing topic in the world. Amalia had been sitting there at the table in the centre of the elegant dining hall, bringing her glass of white wine then and again to her mouth while listening to the endless waterfall of comments and explanations about his life. Yet before dinner, he had announced that after dessert, he would guide her to a quiet corner of the ship where he would then show her a detailed presentation on his notebook about it all. Already at the aperitif, Amalia had noticed some other guests observing them and whispering to each other, smilingly. When the headwaiter had come to take the order, the Texan widower, of course, had simply ordered an enormous steak for both, with the greatest naturalness. But at this point, she had energetically thrown in, that she preferred the shrimp plate. For a moment, the Texan widower had to look up at her, frowning, and then exclaiming, “Oh, no problem, we also have lots of great shrimps in Texas, no problem!”

During the whole duration of the dinner, the Texan widower had been talking in his broad accent and fully persuaded that his Texas was the nucleus of the world. He had outlined all details about his parent’s home that he inherited, the large stables with horses, the fields, and large herds of cattle, and his many cars. And then he had reported about his wife Barbara who had died five years ago. On her deathbed, she had made him promise to look for a suitable wife as soon as possible after her death, in order not to get lost, because as she had kept saying it and he had repeated it now, “He was and still is a tall boy, and needs someone to guide him through this world full of obstacles!” The Texan widower talking about his passed-away wife had come out with such a fire, that all the other guests had been staring at their table wanting to follow the words and phrases coming out of his mouth like endlessly flowing cascades. At a certain point, Amalia had suddenly thought to do something, in order to interrupt this whole unbalanced rodeo. Just when the Texan widower had begun with beatific eyes to talk about his five grandchildren, and the time he was spending with them because he intended to make up for not having spent enough time with his children because of having ‘been forced to make money’, exactly then, she jumped up and stated, as if it had been the most normal thing in the world, “I totally forgot, I want to attend the rock and roll class tomorrow, and need some practice before! Will you come with me?”

She had known that this would be the absolute and immediate end of their togetherness because this lost, self-righteous, hopelessly conservative and somehow childish appearance of a man had been nothing for her. And after these nearly three and half hours of constant talking only about himself and his environment, she had not been able to tolerate not even one more minute. He had been looking at her with such a shocked face. And stuttering, explaining in deep disgust that he never had the intention to do such an evil thing like dancing rock and roll, which according to what his parents had taught him had been ‘vulgar’. He had now been absolutely disappointed about her.

Amalia had risen, thanking for the dinner with a slight bow. Then she had turned and left amid the applause of some guests.

After arriving in her balcony stateroom, she had fallen on her bed. Tears of anger had been running down her face, and she soon had fallen asleep, dead tired after all these hours listening to the endless talk of the Texan widower.

On the next day, she had joined an excursion ashore, and been hiding all day behind her sunglasses. She then had gone early for a light snack at the buffet dinner place on one of the upper floors, eating alone at a table in a far corner away from the crowd. Then she had prepared to meet the Canadian man to attend the musical performance in the grand theatre on board. She had already been about to lose any interest in going out with whichever man. The experience of the evening before had been so terrible.

The Canadian man had been waiting for her near the entrance to the theatre. He had welcomed her with a timid smile, showing a portion of pleasure. indeed, in his eyes and gesture. They had found two comfortable seats on one of the balconies offering a perfect view. With a large drink in hand, they had been enjoying the exceptional performance of the dancing crew of the cruise ship. It had been a brilliant and uplifting performance, and in the almost sixty minutes without talking, but just watching and enjoying, she had begun to collect new hope. Of course, she had noted the Canadian man watching her all the time, more than watching the stage. Every time she had turned her head to glance at him, he immediately had looked to the other side. After the show, they first had been strolling along the cruise ship a bit without talking. Near the piano bar, she had pointed to two empty fauteuils, and they had then been sitting there for almost half an hour, only exchanging a few phrases. She had to ask, and then he had given a concise answer, sometimes even only a single word, obediently looking at her, and then waiting again. She had not had a recipe for such unusual behavior, and after about the fifth attempt at a conversation from her side, she had begun to feel strange and also exhausted, if not even a bit afraid. While sitting there facing this silent steel of a man, she had been trying to think what he might have been suffering. He had noted her frowning plus guessing around. “Nope, I’m not a stupid man! It’s just that I live in the woods far away from the next town, and I do not meet people for weeks. And anyway, I do prefer thinking rather than talking!” She had to finish this meeting at once before exploding, and stood up, patted his shoulder, wished him a good night in a whisper, and left. She had rushed to the next elevator, where she escaped following almost blindly a group of people moving on to the next deck. There next to the huge movie screen, she then had sat alone at the edge of the bar, a huge glass of iced water in hand. Finally, she had reached her cabin, where she had been standing on the balcony for over thirty minutes, always and again shaking her head, muttering “No thanks, definitely not possible!”

On the next day, the ship had been all day at sea. Amalia had been relaxing on board and strolling around discovering many corners and facilities of the big cruise ship. Of course, she had been checking out possible single men passing by or sitting at tables or at the bar next to her, but none had invited a conversation. When stopping at the ice cream parlor in the afternoon, a larger group of women had invited her to join their ‘women’s only circle’. However, after thoroughly looking at these women’s clothes and how they had been behaving, she had shaken her head. Thanking for the kind invitation and waving her hand, she had said goodbye. They then had all left, chattering like a horde of chickens. In the evening, she had been enjoying until late the most inspiring piano play in the bar mid-ship. The very talented and experienced pianist had attracted many passengers coming along from the restaurant or the show. So that there had been a great atmosphere and a large crowd, moving shoulders, head and legs to the music, or even clap the hands or singing along, with half-closed eyes, or with very dreamy eyes.

On the following morning, the ship had arrived in Puerto Madryn, and most passengers had prepared themselves in time to participate in one of the promising excursions ashore. She had registered for a tour with a smaller bus to a particular place on the coast where after a walk some sea-lion colonies could be observed, and then a bit further on to several penguin-colonies of certain breeds. The tourists had pushed almost wildly towards the wooden balustrade to peek at the sea lions, which had been rather lazily lounging and sprawling, farther down on a large rocky cliff above the sea. Amalia had not been too excited about these clumsy animals giving strange noises like grunting. But the small penguin-colonies had caught her attention, and she had been watching a bit away from the large tourist spots for quite a while a penguin family with several young ones. Completely lost in her observation, she had not realized a dark-haired man in a very exclusive bright-orange anorak approaching. And she almost fell over, when suddenly a male voice announced right next to her, “Such an attractive lady should not spend the afternoon studying these penguins alone!”

The man in the bright-orange anorak now had planted himself directly in front of her, lightly moving his pelvis and forming a childish pointed mouth as a suggestion to give air-kisses while rolling his eyes. And before Amalia could react, he had his arm tight around her shoulders, pulling her now in a specific direction over the bushes, whispering something out of breath, “Come on. I’ll show you the best place to watch penguins and enjoy the scenery!” Amalia stumbled helplessly a few meters with him along the edge of the bushes, and then resisted and wanted to shake off his arm and tell him to go to hell. But he used that moment as she opened her mouth and quickly pressed his wet mouth to hers and at the same time pushed his body against her savagely. She managed to turn her head to one side and felt a slimy trail of saliva up to her ear. She screamed as loudly as she could, “Leave me alone you, bloody saliva-monster!”

She tried several times to kick him in the shin, but he did not let her go but held her tightly under control. At that moment, two younger men emerged from between the bushes. When they realized what was going on, both of them lunged at the man in the bright-orange anorak. One hit the oppressor’s neck with the back of his hand, while the other kicked his legs in a well-performed action. The orange monster went to the ground, whimpering.

The two athletic youngsters had taken Amalia between them and led her back to the group. They had introduced themselves as the trumpeters of the Big Band on board and told her that they were both practising Asian martial arts as a hobby. They also had said that the ‘orange monster’ guy was a casino beau who regularly had been chasing women aboard. And finally, they had explained that they had been peeing in the bushes because of a very long line of tourists at the small toilet house near to where the bus had stopped. They had bowed and disappeared, smiling.

Amalia had squeezed deep into her seat in the bus, trying to recover from the unpleasant ‘orange monster’ event. On that evening, she had gone for a quick dinner in the buffet restaurant. Afterwards, she had been sitting on her balcony for a long time, wrapped in a cozy blanket and staring out into the dark sea. Several times she had shaken in horror and blown air through her teeth, whispering sharply, “Phew, whew, what a slimy guy!”

On the following day, the cruise ship was at sea all day. Amalia had completed several laps on the jogging track before breakfast and then watched for a while the golfers at the indoor golf simulator. There were mainly men who practised with severe faces and argued intricately after each stroke. She shook her head and went to breakfast, crossing a salon in which numerous women – probably the wives of the golfers – sat knitting in front of the windows. Again, She shook her head and gave them a compassionate look, which was not noticed, of course.

For the next stop, at Port Stanley on the Falkland Islands, Amalia had booked an excursion that was promising an outstanding adventure drive across the breathtaking but rough landscape, in a unique trekking jeep. They had been five persons per jeep, two sat in front with the driver and three in the back. Amalia had been sitting on the middle seat in the back next to a man from Russia with thick, sleek white hair that stood out on all sides, and a striking profile dominated by a remarkable nose. To her right, a lady in her sixties with very long, brightly colored gel fingernails had occupied the seat. She had a wildly pinned blond hairstyle and was coming from Los Angeles. This lady immediately had proudly and loudly explained that she already had been many times on wild jeep trips everywhere in the world. Then she had leaned back in her seat, grabbing a large bag of potato chips and beginning to snack. The driver, an extraordinarily fit and very sporty man, with clearly strong arms on the steering wheel, grinned knowingly and announced, “We are going to enjoy the most memorable ride across our land! Are you ready, folks?” The five passengers screamed happily, “Yes, we are ready!” They had driven along a bumpy path for about four minutes. Then the driver had glanced briefly in the direction of the passengers, grinning boldly, and briskly turning away into the scrubby, grassy plain that had seemed to stretch endlessly to the horizon, but slowly sloping downward. The jeep had mastered this sudden turn off easily and sportily, and the journey had continued in the same bumpy style, rather quickly swaying on all sides. Amalia had been firmly holding herself with both hands on the backrest of the front seat. In contrast, the Russian man at the quick turn had been lifted from his place – he had not been buckled up – and hit his head on the ceiling, shouting something in Russian, before landing on Amalia’s knees. At the same time, the huge bag of potato chips of the lady from Los Angeles had flown to the front landing between the two front passengers, a honeymoon couple from Croatia, who had been holding each other like spider monkeys. “Yeah, this is nature; this is our great land!” the sporty driver had thrown in, not bothering at all about the Russian shouting or the flying potato chips. For a short moment, the driving had been almost normal, though bumpy, and the Russian had found time to fix the safety belt while the lady from Los Angles had reached out to get the bag with the potato chips back. She then just had happily opened a can of Cola as another bump had let the dark liquid spray across the car and drip over her cleavage. Precisely at this point, the driver announced, “Now folks, the trip will be rather rough trekking for quite some time now, hold on tight!”

For the next thirty minutes, none of the adventure tourists said a word. Everyone had been holding somewhere as well as possible and kept looking at the landscape through the windows, to see where this flying bump trekking led. Indeed it had been a hell of a trip. Finally, the smiling driver had stopped the jeep, coolly remarking, “Well, we have arrived. I hope you enjoyed the ride!” He had instructed them to walk along the marked path and then in a broad curve, where they could watch penguins from very near, down to the beach where in the blockhouse food and beverages would be ready in the form of a buffet. The five passengers had slowly climbed out of the car, slightly dazed, controlling their bodies and limbs, looking around in the landscape, giving each other meaningful looks. Behind them, the next Jeep with a load of profoundly shaken tourists arrived. Amalia had slowly followed the marked path while enjoying the stunning view down to the sea. Where the way had made a wide curve, it adjoined a large penguin settlement on the right-hand side. From here, the tourists had been able to watch the cute penguins extensively for a while. Some even came very close. There were a handful of small wooden benches and the Russian man with the prominent profile immediately had sat down, had pulled out a bottle of Vodka and had taken a long sip, not caring too much for the cute species. He had begun to scrutinize Amalie from head to toe and then the other way as he had sipped his Vodka. And finally, he confidently had declared, “You would go very well with me. I like how you took this terrible ride in the jeep! Will you come for a drink with me tonight?” Amalia had been slightly amused but also annoyed, and politely replied, “Well, by then you will probably have had enough drinks already! Why do you not enjoy the penguins now!”

In the meantime, a large group of penguins that had been very close to the path had moved away, and the Russian had given back, shrugging, “Where are they? They have gone!” Then taking another sip of Vodka. Precisely at that moment, a tiny penguin had appeared from underneath the bench on which the Russian was sitting. The little penguin had moved over and then stood there right in front of the two. The Russian had looked at the pretty penguin with emotion and spluttered, “What about the drink tonight?” Thankfully, two more groups of tourists had now approached, who immediately broke into a fondling whispering when seeing the cute penguin standing there. By the time they all had been ready with their cameras and mobile phones, the little penguin had turned around and waddled away. Amalia had quickly continued on the path following a small group of tourists. It had been a relaxing walk in this stunning natural landscape down to the charming blockhouse in the bay. Nicely grouped wooden tables and benches had been waiting in front of the house. And inside, a buffet with homemade snacks and cakes as well as drinks, had made the guest’s mouth water. Amalia had found a single table just around the corner. She had been more than pleased to be able to enjoy a huge piece of delicious apple cake and a cup of freshly brewed coffee in this breathtaking landscape unmolested. When finally getting back to the Jeep, the Russian man and the lady from Los Angeles had now been sitting together in the back both with tiny bottles of Vodka, toasting and behaving like older lovebirds. “You don’t mind me taking your seat, do you?” warbled the lady toward Amalia, moving her shoulders like a tiny girl and then glancing back at the Russian man, who had found his pleasure. Amalia had smiled, and friendlily replied, “Not at all, everything is fine, just enjoy life!” and then had leaned back in her corner seat, settling the security belt whispering, “Well, I’m rid of that one!”

Back on the cruise ship and after a refreshing shower, Amalia had enjoyed a quick dinner in the buffet restaurant on the upper deck. Then she decided to sit awhile in the large piano bar mid-ship, where the incredibly talented pianist and singer on this evening had played and sung all those well-known and heart-warming songs on the theme of soul music. More and more guests had flocked to the comfort of the armchairs. Other guests had remained leaning against the wall with a drink in hand, moving their bodies to the sound of this fabulous music. The waitress had just served Amalia her second drink when the Russian man from the excursion and the lady from Los Angeles had approached the piano, both visibly tipsy and celebrating in a somewhat ridiculous manner, showing their dewy love. Amalia had shrugged and looked around thoughtfully. Yes, of course, the bar with its romantic atmosphere had mainly attracted couples who had looked at each other lovingly, and then and again had cheered or held hands. All of a sudden, Amalia had felt overwhelmed by the feeling that she had been entirely redundant here, even disturbing things, being just a single guest. She had hastily finished her drink and then had rushed straight back to her cabin without looking left or right. She had sunk on the small sofa near the window and remained there for a long while. A significant frustration had wanted to take hold of her and drag her into a profound misery. She had clearly felt that her positive mood and good courage had somehow been about to get lost. But she had decided to fight that diabolic feeling.

On the following day, the highlight had been cruising along to Cape Horn in a deep grey and a rather cold weather. More extended periods of rain had diminished the pleasure of going on deck. Therefore, most passengers had prepared for a day indoors, only peering through windows from time to time, checking whether the behavior of the rain-defying photo fans outside indicated anything important coming up. In the late afternoon, the time had finally come; the giant ship had been approaching a point with a good, but distant view of the famous Cape Horn. Amalia had decided to take a look as well and, wrapped in her rain parka, had gone to the top deck. Despite the rather unfriendly weather conditions, a considerable number of guests wrapped in raincoats or anoraks and armed with umbrellas had been gathering with their cameras and cell phones ready. The cruiser had moved in the slightly rough waves on all sides, and the rain had poured down, preventing the view into the distance. When the commentator in the loudspeaker had begun providing the necessary explanations, large groups of photographers had been moving across the deck to the other side of the ship. The action had finally led in an almost hectic crowd crush towards the railing, coupled with the constant holding up the cameras and trying not to lose the balance on the wet deck. If one had peered into the distance between the heads of the many passengers, it had been possible to take a quick look at the legendary Cape Horn.

She had enjoyed a quick dinner as usual in the buffet restaurant and then visited the musical show in the main theatre. When passing the main bar mid-ship, the lady from Los Angeles and the Russian man had been waving to her from their seats right next to the piano. Both holding a drink in hand and smiling broadly. Back in her cabin, Amalia had remained for a moment in front of the large mirror, staring into her reflection and sighing deeply several times. Finally, she had proclaimed somewhat spitefully in the direction of her reflection, “Well, you are not lucky enough to find a suitable partner, while others fish within seconds!”

After watching a documentary about the Beagle Channel that they would pass through tonight and tomorrow, she finally had fallen asleep. She had woken up just a few hours later from strange creaking and groaning in the walls and railings caused by heavy rocking of the cruise ship. A little dazed, she had hurried to the window and, with great astonishment, had looked into the bizarre rock formations that had passed quite close to the ship, new jagged rock towers had appeared in front of her window and disappeared again. The colossal ship had had to fight tirelessly with all of its strength against the strong wind and the rough water.

At early breakfast upstairs, the rugged scenery passing relentlessly by outside had captivated her, on the way to Ushuaia. For there, Amalia had booked the highly recommended ride on the famous railway train. Somehow she had been looking forward to it half-heartedly. Her mood had not been the best, and when the large group had got to the train, Amalia had quickly moved on to the far end of the coach and taken a window seat in the last four-seater compartment. She had looked intently through the window, hoping that no more fellow passengers would join. This hope had been shattered because an older, somewhat plump woman - wearing an oversized anorak and carrying a huge bag – had been dropping into the seat opposite, babbling, “Hello young lady, surely you don’t mind if we join you!” Before Amalia had replied, a huge man had slumped into the seat next to the woman. Last, a rather shy boy had taken his place next to Amalia. The boy with the subdued look had been the miniature version of the giant man and probably his son. The fat woman immediately started chattering, “You know, my son is a single father, his wife left him for a Guru from India. This trip is a birthday present for my son, for distraction and, of course, also to find a new partner. This time, it has to be the right one. I’ll make sure of that!” The giant single father had hung in his seat with an unhappy expression on his face. But seeming completely powerless to do anything about his mother’s campaigns on the search for a new daughter in law. He had given Amalia several helpless looks as if to apologize. While the son’s son had slowly raised his head turning towards Amalia, to begin examining her closely. Amalia had wanted to get up immediately and hurry away with disgust. She hadn’t imagined that she could stand this for ten more minutes. But then the boy had put his hand on her arm and said with urgency in his voice, “I like you, you will definitely not run away with another man!” His plump grandmother had beamed brightly at Amalia and opened both hands expectantly in front of her chest. The boy’s father had frowned, opened his mouth and begun to study Amalia too. Amalia had been as if struck by lightning and had known that she had to leave the place and run away at once. Otherwise, she would have screamed out loud. No way, could she have stayed there. But at this very moment, the tour guide started his explanations, always pointing to a large map attached to the wagon door. And so there had been no escape way for Amalia.

At the stop, where everyone got out for different activities and routes in the National Park, Amalia immediately had stood up. While calmly pulling out her mobile phone, she had explained dryly, “Well, I must write a message to my husband, he is expecting my report about this excursion!” And she then stepped along in the corridor. The chubby woman had been speechless for a short moment. Then she had jumped up and screamed with all the power of her voice towards Amalia’s back, “What, you are married? Why did you not say so?” The single father had shown no response. But the boy then had risen, throwing his short comment coldly in the fat grandmother’s face, “She is not married, she just said so to make you shut up!” Several fellow travelers had burst out laughing. On the way back, Amalia had been lucky enough to find a seat next to the guide in the train. Again on the cruise ship and on the way to her cabin, Amalia had stopped at the small, elegant coffee bar serving a range of absolutely delicious chocolate truffles. One of the beautiful French armchairs had been free, and she had let herself slide into the wine-red velvet cushions. Soon, the waitress had placed a tray with an exquisite espresso and a selection of the signature chocolate truffles on the side table. Now and then reaching for one of the truffles, Amalia had been looking out over the sea pondering her situation. Somehow it had bubbled inside her, and she wanted to calm it down with the chocolate. When some dark thoughts wanted to catch up with her again, Amalia had decided to take an extensive tour of the various decks on this gigantic cruise ship. After a pizza and a glass of wine, Amalia had returned to her cabin, where she had cursed several times while getting undressed. Somehow Amalia had begun hating herself for having this unworldly idea of finding a potential partner on a cruise around South America. Gritting her teeth, she had watched the information program on TV for the next day, the stop in Punta Arenas.

The next morning Amalia was not in the best of spirits either, and as a result, she had gone ashore on the excursion with rather reserved feelings. On the bus, she had sat next to an older gentleman who had seemed to be asleep. A young, very dynamic local guide had cheerfully welcomed the guests on the bus and then immediately with great passion begun his explanations. The young man had turned out to be a real miracle in his job because within only five minutes he had utterly captivated all travelers. Everyone – young and old - had been sitting upright, heads bowed in his direction, so as not to miss a single detail of his explanations. The young man had been a real joy and thereby also had distracted Amalia from her growing resentment about herself and her stupid partner-finding idea. The instructive visit to the small but highly interesting museum and subsequent tour of an authentically decorated open-air museum had captivated and entertained all tour participants. And it had been tough for everyone to say goodbye to this very talented and extremely committed young man, who had been able to inspire his guests for his town located at the lower tip of the South American mainland. On the way back to the cruiser, everybody was in a happy and pleasant mood.

For the next day, one of the absolute highlights of this great trip around South America had been scheduled: The Amalia glacier! Of course, Amalia had been particularly looking forward to this sight, especially because she shared the name with the famous glacier. After dinner in the buffet restaurant, Amalia had decided to attend the music show of the soul pianist, who had a performance in one of the massive event halls on that evening. She had been able to get a seat with an optimal view of the pianist at the grand piano. Still exhilarated by the extremely enchanting day trip and sipping her long drink Amalia had been enjoying the heart-touching soul music performed by this outstanding pianist, sometimes humming along with the other guests. After a second long drink, she had felt free of any resentment at the completely failed partner search and the unpleasant experiences made on board. She had leaned back in her armchair and signaled the waiter to bring another long drink. At the end of the show, Amalia had been kind of thrilled. The world had seemed high to her. The music had transformed her. With exhilaration, she had slowly walked back toward her cabin, pausing and smiling, watching the passengers here and there. Upon arrival in her cabin, Amalia had opened the balcony door and stepped out onto the balcony. A cold gust of wind had enveloped her. She had paused there for a moment, staring out into the dark. Happy voices and laughter had come from one of the upper balconies. Amalia had glanced up briefly and then looked back at the vast darkness in front of her. The massive ship had rocked in the waves. Seaspray had splashed up to the lower balconies. Suddenly, Amalia had felt dizzy and had to hold onto the railing with both hands. And again the happy chatting and laughing from one of the other balconies had reached her. She could not stand this anymore and wanted to go inside immediately. She had let go of the railing and stumbled across the deck chair and then roughly ended up inside on the edge of the bed. As if by remote control, she had risen again, closed the balcony door, and then thrown herself onto the bed, gulping deeply. She had sobbed terribly. Tears had run down her face in dense streams. In between, she had kept raising her head and weeping over the covers, “Why, why, why then!” Then had followed again a phase of sobbing, which had seemed to have no end. Amalia had felt enormous pity for herself, and grave injustice. This condition had lasted well after midnight, sobs alternating with silent phases full of self-despair, coupled with anger at herself, but also at this unjust world and its men. And then, she suddenly had jumped up and run to the closet. On the way, she had lurched and stumbled over her shoes lying on the floor. Cursing furiously, she had taken off her clothes, and without paying attention or looking closely, she had grabbed and put on the pair of pants that had fallen into her hands. She had opened the door to the small shower room. After a quick look at her face in the mirror, she had broken out again in a loud howl. Her face had been smeared all over with make-up, especially mascara. She had put on her bathrobe, pulled a few paper handkerchiefs out of the container and was running back into her room where she had dropped onto the bed, breaking out again in sobs. After all this, she had fallen asleep.

* * *

Amalia woke up on the sofa because someone knocked on the cabin door. She opened her eyes, blinked toward the window and immediately remembered her misery. There was another knock on the door. She slowly put her feet on the floor but stayed on the edge of the sofa. Now there was another knock, a voice called, “Good morning, I’m the steward, is everything okay with you?” Defiantly, Amalia crowed back, “No, nothing is okay, not at all, just total misery!” The steward replied, “You have to hurry, we’ll be right at the glacier in a few moments, everyone is already on the upper deck, put on warm clothes!” Amalia just sat there with a defiant face, then hurried to the door, opened it and was about to say something. The steward still waiting in front of the door had been staring at her in amazement. Finally asking her in a hectic voice, “What happened to you? Why are you not on the upper deck with all the other passengers?” In that very moment, the captain’s voice came from the loudspeaker. The ship had now arrived at the famous Amalia Glacier and would be cruising for a while. Amalia turned and wanted to close the door, but the steward put his foot in the door gap. “You must not miss this highlight, especially not because the glacier is named like you!” the steward insisted smilingly, pointing his finger at the nameplate next to the door. Amalia sat on the edge of the bed again and looked at her feet. The steward seemed to consider what was best now, then stepped into the cabin and walked to the clothes rail. There, he took the big anorak from the hanger and the woollen scarf, summed up the first pair of shoes he saw, a pair of slip-on sneakers and hurried to the bed. “Come on, Amalia. The famous Amalia Glacier is waiting for you outside!” Amalia rose slowly and stared at the steward incredulously. Like an obedient child, she let herself be wrapped in the warm anorak and then also put on the sneakers placed in front of her feet. Then she grabbed the door badge and her mobile phone, pulled the hood over and left the cabin, remarking to the departing steward, “Thanks very much for your insistence!”

The top deck was already packed with passengers, all wrapped up warmly, and many carrying umbrellas. It was drizzling, which did not seem to bother anyone, not even did the cold and the gusts of wind. Amalia paused for a moment in the middle of the deck and looked around. The ship swayed in the waves. As announced by the captain, the cruiser turned back to the other side at intervals so that all passengers could get the best view of the famous glacier. She stood there and realized that she was still wearing the bathrobe that was sticking out from under the anorak. With a shrug, she walked to the left because now a movement went through the crowd and joyful calls could be heard. Amalia caught a glimpse of the glacier between the heads of the guests standing in tight rows at the railing. However, from her position in the back row, it was not possible to take a photo. And now the rain was getting stronger. Amalia looked around and discovered the staircase that led to a small platform directly above the room with the golf simulator. Only a few people were up there. Without hesitation, she moved over and climbed the iron stairs. At the top, the rain and wind slapped her face heavily, but a great view of the glacier made up for it. With clammy fingers and leaning closely against the railing, she took several photos. The introductory video in the program on board had, of course, been shot in nice weather with blinding sunshine. The countless pieces of ice broken off by the glacier floating on the water surface had in that video seemed to shimmer in many colors and accompanied by captivating classical music leaving an unforgettable impression. Unfortunately, it was raining now, and the view was completely different, though no less appealing. Amalia narrowed her eyes and blinked out over the water, on which the different-sized pieces of ice seemed to dance like a thousand islets. She took a deep breath, and suddenly she felt happy. All of the tearful lamenting stress of the past few days seemed to have flown away. She would have loved to spread her arms and hover over the deck, accompanied by powerful music. Heavy rain slapped her face again. She looked over back at the Amalia Glacier and said to herself, “Oh to hell with all of these men, let’s just drop this project!” She waved one last time to the glacier, then turned around with a swing and walked towards the iron spiral staircase that led from the small platform back to the deck. She wanted to take the first step down the stairs. Her foot got caught in the wet bathrobe, which clung out from under her anorak to her ankles. Amalia lost her balance and could not hold on anywhere. She closed her eyes, knowing that this would end in a terrible fall that she might not survive.

There was no impact, neither on the iron stairs nor on the floor of the deck. Two muscular arms hugged Amalia tightly. She heard a pleasant voice saying, “Hoopla!” and very slowly opened her eyes a bit. Her head was resting on a turquoise-blue anorak fabric. Her eyes wandered up over the anorak and stuck to a suntanned, attractive face from which two steel-blue eyes were looking at her. The rain was now pouring down in dense streams. Amalia was convinced that she was dreaming or delirious and closed her eyes again. The strong arms were still holding her, but she noticed how she was carefully moved so that she now sat on solid ground. The pleasant voice noted, “So, now we are safe!” Amalia blinked cautiously towards the voice and looked again into the bright blue eyes in the attractive face from before. A handsome, sporty man in a turquoise-blue anorak sat close to her on the iron stairs. Water dripped from his hood over his face. He still had one arm wrapped around Amalia. He now extended his other hand towards her, kindly declaring, “Hello, I’m Rudi from Austria!”

Amalia stared at this male wonder, and she could hardly believe what she saw. She examined him from head to toe and back. And then it occurred to her what she must look like: Howled face and full of smeared mascara from last night, from top to bottom like a wet mouse, wearing a bathrobe under the anorak, a gem of unattractiveness. She looked almost shyly into the handsome face and then asked, articulating precisely, “Where on earth have you been hiding all the time?” And at the same time, she found her question rather stupid. But Rudi beamed at her and countered laughing, “I was just waiting for the right moment!”

The two formed a perfect couple, got along perfectly from the first moment on and enjoyed the rest of the trip in all facets. Rudy was one of the golf instructors on board and had stepped in for a sick colleague. He maintained his golf center in Austria, which his father had founded. Amalia was immediately confident that she would move there and possibly open a branch of the chemical enterprise for which she worked. At the end of the cruise, they stayed a week in Santiago de Chile and celebrated their engagement.

The two never separated again, and on their 30th wedding anniversary, they went back on a cruise around Cape Horn and to the famous Amalia Glacier.

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