One Saturday morning, as a pleasant breeze rippled gently through the flags in the Tel Aviv marina and a warm sun caressed the people sitting in the cafes and gazing out at the boats and the sea, an excited young fellow approached the little motorboat anchored at the slip nearest the entrance and jumped onto the deck in a daring leap. Ronnie, a young but very experienced and endlessly courteous skipper of Danit's pleasure boats - Danit is a veteran professional skipper, who runs a small but flourishing fleet in Tel Aviv - helped the guest organize his things: a bucket full of ice and a bottle of Champagne, a large rolled-up sign, flowers and chocolate. At precisely 10 o'clock the fellow's girlfriend was to arrive at the marina, at which point the skipper was to lift anchor; when the boat got into the open sea the guest was to unfurl the banner in all its Hollywood glory, asking: "Liat, will you marry me?"

The young man was to kneel on the deck and smile. How he has managed to surprise her! The flowers will be strewn, the cork of the Champagne bottle will pop, everyone will scarf down chocolate and the accompanying photographer will immortalize the beautiful moments of joy. Liat will sip the bubbly beverage and her eyes will fill with tears of excitement and happiness. She will extend her hand to her beloved, he will produce a tiny box and present it to her. She will open it, her eyes will light up, she will put on the engagement ring and the two will sail on, embracing, until they return and anchor in joy.

The rest of the story is familiar to the organizers of seaborne excursions (a huge hit in recent years) in various versions. Liat did indeed arrive and her face indeed lit up. She removed her high heels shoes nimbly and came on deck. About an hour later the small boat returned and tied up to the landing. Ronnie jumped out first and extended his hand to Liat. The two smiled with effort. The blue from horizon to horizon was indeed enchanting for the young sailors, but the sun was broiling and the sea rippled with the slow round waves known to sailors as swell. At the right moment the banner was unfurled, the Champagne was poured into glasses, Liat managed to get a look at the message and shout with joy, and then it began.

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"Throw up in the direction of the wind," Ronnie shouted to her, showing her how to avoid depositing her breakfast on the people next to her. He tried to console her, but then he too hastened to the rail and almost went overboard with the first contraction of his guts. Each time the two completed a round of vomiting the two of them, imbued with stubborn optimism, managed to hug and kiss and be photographed against the backdrop of the banner. By the end of the short voyage they were no longer embarrassed to vomit together, almost on each other. They will never forget this day.

Not all pleasure cruises involve doubling over the rail, and even these are remembered as an experience. But it is unfair to discuss seafaring without courageously exploring the issues of nausea, seasickness and vomiting.

Indeed, you too are liable to feel - how should I put this genteely? - blechhh in your earliest lessons at sea. It is not necessarily a function of the height of the waves (although a high sea and waves pounding the sides of the boat are less pleasant than a calm sea and a light breeze), but rather on the balance center in our brains, which gets a confused message the moment our feet depart from solid ground.

The sensation of nausea, something between slight dizziness and just plain blaah, is liable to develop into general disgust before giving way to total apathy. Every seafarer is familiar with the moment when he is ready to consign the entire boat, with its crew and contents, to hell if only he could feel better. The relief, you will be surprised to hear, comes after vomiting once or twice, and the faster you manage to get over the embarrassment and the difficulty that prevent normal human beings from throwing up in public, the faster you will be relieved of the disgust and able to enjoy the trip.

There is nothing to be ashamed of. We have seen many good souls empty their guts with a roar and to applause from the audience, after previously declaring, "I was the commander of a navy patrol boat and was never even nauseous." Dear friends of mine, aesthetes who were especially impressed by the stunning photographs in the charter cruise advertisements, made a point of wearing matching white trousers and striped shirts and dining on pasta with tomato, garlic and basil sauce on deck, by candlelight. Shortly thereafter, when the skipper raised anchor and turned the prow of the boat out to sea for a long night voyage, the fish had a feast.

Do not worry: Apart from extreme cases and particularly shocking weather at sea, most voyagers feel marvelous, and even if on the first day at sea they experience nausea up to their eye sockets, on the second day it all passes. Listen to your skipper. If he tells you not to go down to the galley to make coffee at the beginning of the trip, do not go. The movement and the smells down there do not work to your benefit. Sit comfortably on the deck. Tomorrow you can even cook the aforementioned pasta and digest it without bringing any fish into the picture.

Also, there is no need to be alarmed by the threats of someone who was burnt once. The psychological factor is indeed a determinant, and fear contributes quite a bit to the nausea. Until you get accustomed to yourselves at sea, you will hear tricks from everyone you speak to: Look at the horizon, take pills or patches - this writer recommends avoiding all medication: some are soporific, others cause headaches - sit in one spot and don't move, don't eat beforehand, drink, don't drink and so on ad infinitum. Forget all the advice. When you embark on a voyage, it is no disaster if you forget the Champagne bucket, but you should have a bucket, just an ordinary plastic bucket, which in any case can be found on most boats and is considered essential equipment on boats you will hire abroad. If there isn't one, ask for one. The bucket has many uses at sea, as a container or as a floating anchor to slow down the boat's movement in a storm. And if you have to take care of some matter below decks, say the motor or the bilge pump, and the sea is not being cooperative, and the smell of diesel with the stifling heat have not already led your face straight into the bucket, ask your companions to fill it with sea water and dump it over your head as a sign that you have passed the trial by water.

Next week: From Tel Aviv to Herzliya and back. We start practicing.