Sunday, September 23, 2012: Anchors Away!

I’m not unhappy to be leaving Tokyo. Although I’m grateful formy experiences here, the landscape begins to pale into many tall buildings, most of them indistinguishable from each other, silent sentinels maarching along in lock-step toward the horizon. This morning is re-packing, cramming in those shirts and socks and the toothpaste and shaving cream, hoping to get as much as possible into my big bag so that my carry-on, which I will have to carry to the ship, is as light as possible. It’s not an easy task. I always pack too much. But this time not enough casual pants. I’vde worn the same kakhis three days in a row because each day looked like rain –remember the umbrellas? – and I didn’t want to ruin any other, better, trouseers. So I’ll be very happy to get into different ones today.

At breakfast, I looked around to see if I could identify any fellow Silver Shadows. A distinguished 60 (or so) looking candidate was seated next to me, carrying in a heavy scent of expensive cologne, and wearing a Tom Ford-like several days growth of graying beard. Although our breakfast voucher, which came with our room, allowed only three selections, all with eggs, he insisted, in English, that he wanted cereal. Cornflakes, that ubiquitous symbol of American culture, came to him with cream and his tea. Wholesome, I thought, while I was devouring my eggs (orange) and bacon. And then came hot oatmeal. He looked puzzled for a moment and then ate it all, alternating between the two cereals. But then he quickly got up from his table, grabbed his expensive-looking leather briefcase and marched deliberately away. His breakfast voucher, presented to the waiter at the beginning of the meal was not the same color as mine so I ruled him out as a fellow traveler.

Across the room from me was another possibility, a handsome man of about 40, with very distinguised-looking graying hair. Ah, perhaps a candidate, although he, a stranger, wasn’t exactly tall and dark. But as he waited for his breakfast, he opened the three small containers of jams supplied to each table and tasted them by dipping the tip of his knife into them, one at a time, and then sucking the jam off the endof his knife. Not exactly my idea of polite table etiquette! And when his food came, he chewed with is mouth open – one negative snap for him! – but he got a positive snap by eating his bacon with a knife and fork, as I was struggling to do. He buttered all of his toast and chewed off hunks rather than breaking the toast into bite-sized pieces as Emily Post would have preferred. Was this just butch? Or was it gauche? Despite his good looks, I crossed him off my list.

Even though my mosquito bites had been graciously quiescent all of yesterday, they roared into itching life this morning accompanied by the usual marble-sized lumps. When I can resist their siren call no lnger, I always think that ifourbodies are meant to itch at such intrusions, then maybe we’re meant to scratch them. Any excuse to relive the pressure even if for only a moment. Now where did I cleverly hide that anti-itch cream in thishuge bag?

Having some extra time before thebus to the ship, I asked the internet lady in the hotel to help me post typed pages to my blog. This became, as previously explained, very complicated. After trying many other unsuccsessful options, we decided to scan the pages into a PDF file and then load them into the computer. But this didn’t work so we had to reload the scanned pages into a JPEG file (like a photograph) and download this. The blog options were all in Japanese so in order to convert them into English, I hadto first sign on to the google website. Then with English established, the blog instructions magically converted to English. Who would have thought a bilingual computer? But then again, why not? Unfortunately, the JPEG would only load into my blog in compacted form, almost impossible to read. But the only alternative was to publish in readable size, load only half a page (the left half or the right half). Not an option. Perhaps you can read these posts with a magnifying glass. Or, if I’m feeling extra energetic, I may type them again into my blogstream so they post in an easily readable size. Or, the information from those days, I hope interesting but not essential, can just be skipped.

And so, to wait for the bus where I met Peter and Joan from Palm Beach. Using a walker, Joan was obviously incapacitated in some way and when I asked how, she complained bitterly about twisting her foot and breaking a bone, only three weeks ago. Because they didn’t buy traveler’s insurance, they would havve forfieted a substantial part of their Silver Sea fare so decided to brave it out. Joan was not happy about that and no amount of my positive commiseration – just think of it as part of the adventure – prevented her from continuing to complain. Still, when the bus came she made it up the stairs more easily than I did.

Boarding the ship was much easier than in the past. Although the procedure still requires a photograph, taken for security, and a credit card imprint, this all moved along quite smoothly and the staff was as pleasant and helpful as always. My suite (all accommodations are called suites) was not yet ready so I had lunch – only two courses of the five on offer – and watched other Shadows as they came into the dining room. No one very interesting so far. The crowd looks “older” but I forget that I’m now in that category. The Palm Beachers sat behind me with Tony and his wife, Kathie (who was in a wheel chair), from Manchester, the English one, not the one in New Hampshire, and Peter began to talk about Romney. I stopped listening.

After lunch, I explored the ship to get my bearings. I’ve traveled on this ship twice before but it’s been a while and until the ship moves and I can detect bow from stern, it’s easy to become disoriented. In a stairwell, I ran into Elena, a shore excursion manager from my last Siver Sea cruise in 2011. I recognized her immediately and, surprisingly, she also recognized me. Small world. We had a brief chat about where and when. At lifeboat drill I met a couple from Chicago and later, Bruce, in the observation lounge, my favorite place on the ship. He is a turn-around manager and his wife, Dede, whom I did not meet, is a fellow photographer. They’re from New York and Jersey, with a home also in Florida. Their springer spaniel, Dolly, is their only child. Bruce and Dede have recently been on a cruise around South America where he told me that when Drake Passage has waves ony 20 feet high, it’s called the Drake Lake, but when the waves are higher, it’s known as the Drake Shake. Take along your dramamine!

Being a Solo as we’re called, I went to the Solo cocktail do where I met a whole group of other Solos: Nevil from Johannesburg (he travels all the time); Mark from Perth (already drunk), Nancy from near San Francisco (she came on the previous leg from Vancouver and, yes, it was cold); David from Nottingham; Coolie from Hawaii, New York and Florida (93, with many rings); all hosted by Elena and Yvonne, from Bonn. I had dinner with Nancy and Nevil, accompanied with very active and pleasant conversation. And then, happily, to bed at 9:30.

Stay tuned.