Smelly Socks

“I think I smell my socks," Hans said in horror as we were standing in the central open area of the ship.

In fact, I could smell them too and was horrified at their pungence. Since Hans walked the Camino, even though he washed out his socks every night, his shoes and sandals became permeated with foot odour. In fact, we deliberately left his sandals behind on the ship.

“Let’s go back to the cabin”, I suggested.

On our way back as we walked past the International Cafe and the Vinyard, I noticed that the smell became distinctly riper.

“It’s not you. It’s the cheese in the appetizers!”

Couldn't find a photo of Hans' socks, so instead, here's a dress we saw in Cannes, France for $5,000.

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