At Home Again: A Wrap-up

The destination that attracted me to this particular cruise was the transit of the Panama Canal but I found the actual experience anti-climactic, perhaps expecting too much or having read too much about the Canal from "The Path Between the Seas." The process of raising and lowering the ship through the locks was certainly interesting but I had been through locks before and there's nothing very mysterious about those mechanics. I was impressed,of course, by how tight the clearance is and by the electric locomotives that steady the ship as she passes through on what I was surprised to learn was her own steam. But more exciting was passing through the cut in the Continental Divide, the string of mountains that extends from Alaska to the south of Chile and realizing that men, using fairly primitive machines, cut through that immense mountain, moving all that dirt and rock aside, shovel-full by shovel-full (even if some of it was by steam shovel). Now that was really impressive!

I've traveled with Silver Sea before so the routine of daily life on the ship, and the luxuries that involves, was no surprise, but I was impressed even more than usual by the intimacy of the staff who grew to know us, and know our names, and seem to like us, very quickly. I learned at almost the end of the trip that Silver Sea takes a photograph of each guest and posts these in crew quarters so the crew can quickly identify us - depending on their memory (and whether we were memorable or not, and I like to believe that we were) - and the ship presents an award at the end of the cruise to the crew member who can remember the most names. Still, their friendliness and courtesy was outstanding.

As the cruise progressed, I was surprised to realize that I had chosen a cruise that I knew would go to so many hot places in the world when I also knew that I don't like it that hot (even though some do). But the ports were all interesting and we had a day at sea between almost every stop, which made it possible to recover from the burden of heat. I was sorry to have burned my legs so badly that I couldn't enjoy the sun, or the pool, but shade is not a bad thing at my age. And my legs are now slowly recovering.

I found the guests on this cruise friendly enough - almost anyone would speak to me if I spoke to them first - but as always happens when strangers are thrown together, they are much more likely to be open at the beginning than they are when the relationships begin to set and one becomes more reluctant to ask a stranger's name (or has forgotten it). Despite this, there wasn't anyone on the cruise interesting enough to me (nor, I'm sure, I to them) that I would want to pursue as a relationship. Oh, I have a few e-mail addresses and will send a few photographs to people who've requested them but by Christmas time, I'm sure I'll wonder who they are.

Now that I'm home, friends ask me the usual question: "What did you like best about the trip?" I always consider this a kind of shorthand for, "tell me something about the trip but not too much, please," and after all, they're interested, but only up to a point. It would be awfully easy to become boring. Usually my answer concerns some place I found fascinating or memorable. But this time, my most honest answer to what I found best about the trip was traveling with Ted and Bill, both lovely men who included me in their intimacy, left me alone with my solitude, and helped me up from the chaise on deck when I needed it. I loved sharing the experience with both of them.

I'll continue this blog when inspiration hits. I hope you haven't been bored by

Staying tuned.

Monday, April 25: Fort Lauderdale to Baltimore

As usual, I got up early, to take photographs of the sunrise. I wasn't about to let the end of my trip interrupt my routine. As it turned out, the sunrise was spectacular, rising up on the starboard side as the coast of Florida, marked by many twinkling lights, appeared on the port side. As the light blossomed, other ships and the outlines of buildings on the coast emerged from the dark. It was all very pretty and an almost spiritual experience, lifting my mood from the day before from the gloom of ending into the dawn of new beginning.

I met the boys for our last breakfast, where we got the royal treatment from Fritz and Harlan and Henry and Joselitto. They seemed genuinely sad to see us go. Or maybe that's only the professional in them. I'm sure they'll be just as happy with the new guests as they were with the old.

Getting off the ship seemed endless but was handled, as usual, with great efficiency, guides pointing us in all the right directions - "orange bags over here!" - and sheparding us into buses and on to the airport. Ted ran into Chanel (Muriel) and just to add to her mystery, when he hugged her, her blouse ran up and he could see tattoos around her waist. Our flights were on time and although crowded, they were routine. David met my plane and we went immediately to dinner at the City Cafe. Despite all the gourmet, Relais & Chateaux experience on the cruise, the Baltimore crab cake was delicious.

A wrap up follows.

Stay tuned

Sunday, April 24: At Sea

There's something about the last day at sea that's a little sad and poignant. You realize that the artificial world you've been enjoying and largely taken for granted for the period of the cruise is coming to an end. The places you've been, the friends you've made and especially in this case, the luxury you've enjoyed, will soon be behind you and you'll be going back to who you were, where you were, when you were. I find all that a little depressing. It's somewhat like the end of a day at the beach in summer, when the heat begins to fade and the sand grows cooler beneath your feet. Anticipation melts away. Reality returns. I find this especially true when I have to drag out the bags and pack up - although I must admit that I like packing at the end of a trip better than at the beginning; there are no decisions to make about what to include and I can just throw the shirts in any old way, not oh-so-carefully wrapped in plastic grocery bags a la Martha Stewart. The few souvenirs I bought on the trip fit easily into my carry-on bag and that bottle of Ketel One, given to me by Princess and Romeo when I came aboard and which remained unopened, fit very nicely, wrapped in old underwear, into that pocket in my bag between the two metal supports to the rollers on the bottom. I packed early in the day - to get it out of the way - and spent the rest of the day on deck, taking head shots of people I wanted to remember. It was Easter Sunday and we had a very special buffet lunch in the dining room, complete with anything you could possibly want to eat, arranged around a giant chocolate bunny rabbit. Romeo gave me a certificate for passing through the Panama Canal and Myra gave us all a diploma for graduating from her bar. I cashed in our collected points - we had enough for two Silver Sea hats, an alarm clock and a book mark (all with the Silver Sea logo). We said our goodbyes to our new friends - mostly the staff - and went to bed, our color-coded luggage whisked away by the porters, to reappear in the terminal the next day.

I was sorry to wake up in the night feeling pebbles in my bed. Closer examination revealed that the objects weren't pebbles at all but beads from a bracelet I bought (along with many others like it) in Turkey some years ago and distributed to the residents at my mother's then nursing home. When Mom died, I found the bracelet in a drawer and on impulse, put it on. I've worn it ever since. The elastic-like plastic thread that held it all together had finally given up and broken; I'm surprised it lasted this long. Still, I was sorry to see it go, like my mom, and my trip, into the past. I collected all the beads and when I got home (which I am now) restrung them on a wire I can keep with other mementoes - oh sentimental me - of my mother.

Stay tuned.

Saturday, April 23: At Sea

I promised myself before I left home, particularly since this may be my last Silver Sea cruise, that I would have no "shoulds" on this trip. I would do (and eat and drink) anything I wanted. And so it isn't surprising that my belt, after struggling so hard to stay in the same hole that the hole, dogeared and torn, has enlarged and given up holding me in, and moved to a new hole (which is three holes from where it was when I bought the belt in Africa some years ago). No surprise: margaritas, wine carbonara, roast beef, chocolate, ice cream. And all for lunch! What did I expect? There are far too many mirrors on this ship to remind me that a really strict diet - going back to many "shoulds" and "should nots" - will be necessary once I get home.

Since the rawness of my legs prevents me from sitting in the sun (or even wearing shorts or going in the pool) I have to amuse myself on deck by taking head shots of the many guests I will remember for their characteristic look or mannerisms: the manic horse lady with the flamingo clips; the walker-man who pauses every few steps: Elizabeth, the Alzheimer's sufferer in her sadly sagging pink bathing suit; the woman with enormouos breasts and badhair; Chanel of the face lift and balloon-y lips; Jorge, always smiling; Judi, cruising around in her colorful suits and impossible-to-be-natural hair; Sir Francis, always with a smile and always ready to bring me a bloody mary. I like to take these pictures secretly, for people are far more natural when they don't know they're on camera, but I've been caught a few times and one woman I didn't know from Switzerland asked me what "on earth" I was doing. "Just getting local color," I said, as I slunk guiltily away.

We won enough points at Bingo to enlarge our total so we can earn two baseball caps with the Silver Sea logo. And big surprise: I won the Silver Sea quiz again. It was all about science, not usually my strongest suit. "What is the science of diseases of the brain? Of plants? Of animals?" The one I missed was the science of the history and development of language. The answer is 'philology. ' You'd think I'd remember that!

On our last formal night we were invited, by fancy printed invitation no less, to join the hotel manager for dinner but at the last minute he was "unavailble." In his place were the guest chef, who was far more interesting (even if he did spill the chou all over his demonstration table) and the beautician in the spa. Maike, from a farm in Namibia, an odd place in the world where I have actually been. She was shy and hard to engage. Sauteed fois gras with fig jam, pumpkin ravioli with walnut oil, Beef Wellington and of course, a chocolate/chocolate dessert. And back in our suites we each had an Easter basket filled with goodies and a towel bunny. What a finale!

Our last day aboard and my summary of the cruise will be sent from my computer at home, where it doesn't cost me 45 cents a minute.

Stay tuned.

Friday, April 22: Cartegena, Colombia

After mostly calm seas, I woke up this morning with the ship tossing and turning, its motion exaggerated by the position of my suite, which is far forward in the bow of the ship. I fought my way into the bathroom and took my morning pills in preparation to go topside, as usual, to photograh the sunrise, good, but not unusual.

At breakfast, I learned from Bill and Ted who knocked lightly on my suite door before going to the midnight show that it consisted solely of two drag queens, doing their number for the crew. Matthew looked more like a woman, they said, but the other guy, a wait staff manageer on deck, was a better performer. I guess I didn't miss much.

Cartegena, founded in 1533 and now a city of a little over one million, was once the major accummulation point for gold and silver and emeralds from all over the Americas destined for shipment to Spain. This made the city a natural target for pirates, hence the construction of its trademark walls and fortresses. In 1741 the city endured a large scale attack by a combined force of British and American troops led by Admiral Edward Vernon, who arrived with a massive fleet of 186 ships and 23,600 men against only six Spanish ships and 6,000 men. The seige was only broken at the start of the rainy season, after weeks of intense fighting. Heavy British casuaties were compounded by diseases such as yellow fever. The victory prolonged Spain's control of Caribbean waters which helped secure its large Empire until the 19th Century. Admiral Vernon was accomanied by Lawrence Washington, George's brother, who was so impressed by the admiral that he named his estate, Mount Vernon, in honor of the admiral.

I chose a land tour called "Panorama Cargegena," which I visualized as one catering to photographers. We went first to La Popa monastery located on the tallest hill - more a small mountain - where there were spectacular views of both the old and new cities. We also visited the fortress of San Felipe, named for King Philip of Spain. And we saw the San Pedro Claver church, its altar spectacular in gold leaf which, if you've traveled at all in Latin America, you know only the Spanish can accomplish.

The day was clear and the sites very photogenic but the day was very hot and I was relieved to finally escape back to the air conditioning on board. After lunch, I finally got to play a few hands of Bridge, with strangers from a variety of places in the world. The deck of cards they used, with artificially large numbers and little difference between the black and red suits confused me so that I bid hearts when I meant spades. My career with the Bridge playing group was not successful. We went down four, not a good beginning. I met Bill and Ted for Bingo where we added to our cache of points. We'd like to win three hats but at 90 points each - 270 points in all - that seems unlikely (we now have 167).

I won the Silver Quiz again today, naming the one word that can proceed three seemingly unrelated other words: "corn, peas, and tooth," for instance. The answer is "sweet." The hardest one was "heat, lie, and paper." I'll let you struggle with that one. (The answer is "white.")

At the bar, Ted had his usual - can you believe he's drinking? - not a cosmo at all but a Myra, which is made from 2 oz. of mandarin vodka, 1/2 oz. of Chambord, 2 oz. of fresh lemon juice and 1/2 oz of Mr. and Mrs. T's sweet and sour mix - named for its creator, Myra, from the Philippines. Oh. And shaken, not stirred.

Only two more days aboard, we are beginning to think about re-entry into the real world where we have to make our own beds, mix our own drinks and cook our own pasta carbonara. But one of the nicest things about vacations is returning to our real world, somewhat like putting on a worn but comfortable pair of shoes.

We've been invited at last by Gianni, the hotel manager, to our last formal dinner. John has promised his wife, Avi, to me for at least one last dance. She bought a very large rough emerald yesterday and is eager to wear it to a rumba, just to make the Latin environment complete. (And as a reminder of that other life I led on a Regent cruise in Caribbean waters just a couple of years ago.)

Since I am running out of time, bought at elaborate expense on this computer, I probably won't post again until I get home. Still, I hope you'll

stay tuned.

Thursday, April 21: Anchored for the San Blas Islands, Panama

This archipelego of more than 365 islands (one for each day of the year!) - most of them uninhabited - lies just off the Pnamanian coast in the Caribbean. The islands are governed by an internal group of Kuna Indians who have lived here since well before the Spanish Conquest, preserving their culture and language. We anchored among the islands and took a tender to a slab on concrete protruding into the water from a mass of densely packed thatched huts. We were immediately surrounded by little indian kids each holding up a watercolor drawing, obviously made by the kid, who offered them to us for "one dollah," the lingua franca of the Kuna where you can take a photograph of anyone but only for that one dollah price. While many of the men work on the mainland, the women line the narrow dirt paths wearing costumes with intricate designs called molas, fabrics with intricate stitching and appliques based on local themes, geometric patterns and stylized fora and fauna. Addtional molas, for sale, are hung on the fences everywhere in dizzying array and can cost from $5.00 to over $100.00 depending on the size and quality. Often a woman was accompanied by a very young child, many with a small green parrot on his/her head - or a small puppy or kitten or even a rabbit, anything to entice you to take their picture (for one dollah). I got a great shot of an old woman, dressed in her intricate designs, bead bracelets around her arms and legs, a tattoo (or at least a painted line) down her nose and smoking a pipe. One dollah, which disappeared immediately into the intricacy of her outfit. The sellers didn't seem very interested in serious negotiation even when Ted offered to buy 30 molas at $4.00 each instead of the asked-for price of $5.00 for one. After walking down most of the streets - it took maybe an hour - I grew extremely hot and weary and took the tender back o the ship where there were many indians, mostly children, in hollowed out canoes bobbing around near the ship, apparently waiting for a can of soft drink to be thrown down to them. (We've been warned not to do this. It could lead to serious injury to the kid.) Shortly after I returned to the ship, the Rotterdam, a Holland America ship, joined us at anchor. Imagining all those many more people in the small village made me happy I had gone ashore earlier.

After Ted and Bill returned we had carbonara outside at La Terrazza, in our favorite spot, with Harland and Fritz and Henry all vying to carry our plates. What a grand way to live!

The sun was blistering hot and since my legs are still raw and swollen, I tried, at the Bridge instructor's daily urging, to join a Bridge game. However this crowd has gotten to be a clique-ish lot, not welcoming to newcomers. Oh well, I guess it's more fun to play with those you already know.

We weighed anchor at 4 PM and sailed immediately for Cartegena where we will be tomorrow - leaving the Rotterdam, on a world tour, and the Kuna and their molas behind.

I had enjoyed the lecture on Puccini so much that I went to another opera lecture, this time on Mozart. Although I don't normally associate Mozart with opera, our lecturer considers "The Magic Flute" one of Mozart's greatest works, which like the composer himself contains elements from the bawdy to the sublime.

After great anticipation and the best of intentions (paving the road, as usual), in the end I missed the crew's show. After dinner, I needed a short nap and Bill and Ted agreed to knock on my door at 11:30 for the midnight show. I didn't wake up from that nap until 2:00 AM. I guess I needed the rest.

Tomorrow: Cartegena.

Stay tuned.

Wednesday, April 20: Panama Canal Transit

By the time I got up to deck 9 (topside) at about 5:30 AM, the rail positions at the bow of the ship were already claimed by those more eager to see the Panama Canal than they have been to see the sunrise. I elbowed into a comfortable spot where I counted more than two dozen ships in the morning twilight - can there be twilight in the morning?- seeming to wait, all pointed in the same direction, toward what we all presumed was an opening on the horizon to the Panama Canal. Panama City, just coming to life, twinkled off to the right, like some ghost city rising up out of the sea. By 6:30 the sun was up, the pilot boat had transferred our pilot for the canal and we progressed immediately behind a huge container ship toward the Miraflores Locks at the Pacific end of the canal. From running commentary on deck, I learned that rates for travel thorugh the canal are determined by gross tonnage and the value of the cargo. Our charge was about $150,000. I guess human cargo is more valuable that TV sets or refrigerators. As we passed through the first locks we were photographed by a web cam on the administration building. Bill called his office in Baltimore and told his staff how to find us, live, on the internet. I waved my white baseball cap madly so they could identify us. Isn't technology grand? (According to Stephen King, a worm inserted into a cellular telephone transmission program will turn all those who answer their phone into slaves. Sometimes I think we already are.)

The process of raising our ship 80 feet up to the level of the lake that forms most of the Panama Canal transit was very interesting. Moving into a narrow bin, locks closing us in and water rising to lift the ship, procedures in reverse when, later in the day, we were gently lowered into the Caribbean. The cargo ship, called a Pan-Max, for it is the widest a ship can be to squeeze into the locks, with literally only inches of clearance, preceeded us alongside, and our friendly sister cruise ship, The Europa, followed behind. I later leared that many of the ships that seemed to be waiting were really anchored here in Panama, waiting for cargo (for there is a huge cargo port at each end of the canal and a railroad that runs between them.)

We settled on Deck 8 by the pool in a spot I've found to be the coolest on deck, a funnel-like space where the wind blows across the pool andinto the shuffleboard court. Bill introduced himself to last night's entertainer, Aaron Shaw, to ask him if he knew Rachael, Bill's niece, a professional in opera. And he did, saying, "So you're Rachel Gilmore's uncle!" Bill realizes to his chagrin that now, with Rachael's success, he may be forever known as "Rachael Gilmore's uncle."

It's now even hotter than it has been and by early afternoon, I had to escape nside. Susan, of the Bridge instructor team, had urged me to join her accolytes for a hand or two but I preferred to lie down in my suite and cool off. I can't imagine actually living in this climate! I lost the Silver Quiz to Bonnie, the needlepoint guest - today was all cryptograms and Bill and Ted and I struggled for hours without getting the answer to No. 12, which was "circles beneath the eyes" - but I beat her at Bingo. Collectively, our little group of three now has 145 points but we're aiming for a total of 200 so each of us can have a Silver Sea baseball cap.

Before we met in the bar at our usual time (7:15) where Myra now automatically prepares a Grey Goose martini straight up, a Cosmo and a margarita, I went to the late afternoon opera lecture, this time on Puccini who wrote, the lecturer contends, the last of the popular, lyrical operas as entertainement, after which serious vocal music gave way to the hardness of Stravinsky and Benjamin Britton. Scottish, with a distinct burr in his delivery, the lecturer is both informative and very funny, punctuating his remarks with video clips of famous arias, one of which still unfortunatly continues to run in my head.

After wading our was through the heavy dinner - we've all gained weight, which at least I can ill-afford - we enjoyed the rather informal evening show where the singers, including Judie (who, yes, was on the QE2 when Dennis and I returned from Europe on the ship in 1983) belted out popular melodies from Cole Porter that now compete in my head with Puccini. At the beginning of the show, Judie, whom the ship troupe all call "Mum," announced a new engagement they were all celebrating, between Todd and and his partner, Matthew. As Todd, who calls our Bingo games would say, "How lovely. Well done!"

And yes; in response to a comment below, we did exit the Panama Canal, repeating the procedure followed at the beginning; a series of two locks, lowering us down gently to the Caribbean. More on this later.

As I said earlier, when I return home, I will edit all these entries for errors in spelling and grammar and add photographs in an effort to make this blog more complete and interesting. In the intermin, have patience with me and

Stay tuned

Tuesday, April 19: At Sea

No matter when I go to bed, I always somehow manage to wake up a half an hour or so before the sunrise. I love that time in the morning, when the crowd is still asleep and I share the decks only with the squeegee boys cleaning the decks of water and a very occasional early morning walker. Yesterday, the sea was so calm the only breeze was created by the forward motion of the ship, and the sea and sky, the same color of bluish grey, were separated by a band of low-lying black clourds just beginning to turn pink. As the sun climbs up out of the horizon, the clouds turn fiery fuschia. It's easy to see why so many civilizations worshipped the sun (as do the many passengers, later, collapsed in it, arms and legs spread out, faces tilted to the clearest tan, obvious evidence of their complete, and dangerous, devotion).

Although my shins have turned a raw and violent red, it's not from sun because they're never exposed, but instead from a circulatory issue I first experienced on a trip to Berlin some years ago. The blood pools in the extremities and bleeds into the soft tissues of the skin, resulting in dark black spots, its own ugly evidence. I will have to see my doctor once I get home. Bill, who has recently survived a minor stroke, now takes his blood pressure every day and, offering to take mine, found it very high (over 190). A day at sea between each port has provided rest for my legs, which I try to remember to keep elevated as much as possible.

My malady, whatever it is, is minor in comparison to those passengers trembling along on canes, or walkers of wheelchairs. One with a more subtle but still obvious affliction, is a 60-ish birdy-looking smallish woman, with eagle eyes and wild white hair, whom I first encountered at the beginning solo cocktail party where she was sitting at a table that held her drink, which she was punishing violently by jamming her cocktail stirrer up and down in it as though to make it foam. Some of it was spilling out onto the table, her blouse and the floor, but she seemed not to notice in her singlular concentration on my face. We see her often now, by the pool, in the dining room, usually inappropriately dressed and despite the heat, wrapped in a plaid blanket, and from her often angry, and even violent behaviour we've concluded that she's probably in the angry stage of Alzheimer's. I can't help but wonder what guardian - a son or daughter, or an attorney for her estate - sent her off on this cruise. The crew is very helpful and protective (she's rumored to be a continuing and long-time guest) but still....How sad.

We spent the day quietly - I finished Stephen King; enough of him for another ten years - Bingo and a canasta lesson, which Bill has decided he doesn't love. Formal dinner and a show by a young tenor, Aaron Shaw, with a big, opera-quality voice and pleasant patter about his burgeoning careet.

Tomorrow the Panama Canal.

Stay tuned.

Monday, April 18: Puntarenas, Costa Rica

We docked on one side of a very long pier with the Europa docked on the other. She's a much larger ship, from a German line and rumored to be six stars in rating. Her passengers and ours intermingled in the very long and very hot walk to shore where the usual freelance tour hawkers, the cab drivers and the souvenir sellers accosted us as we made our way, the three of us - Ted looking for crafts for his store, Billy following his nose for bargains and me, lagging along behind already tired but searching for photo ops - through the streets of what is realy just an ordinary, fishing-centric village, not pretty, not clean, the residents going about their Monday morning business and trying not to look at us (as we were trying not to look at them), strangers invading their town. We did find a candy store where boxed and packaged candy filled all the shelves, from floor to celing on both sides, and where there was a huge pile down the center of suckers that turned out to be very photogenic. We wandered through the market, which smelled of fish - no surprise - and caught a group of women, laughing and jabbering away as they cleaned shrimp. Ted, always garrulous,engaged them in tourist pidgeon Englo-Spanish; they laughed at us good-naturedly. Bill and Ted pressed on in their search for things to buy but I was very tired and went back to the ship, pleasantly thinned of passengers, most of whom were booked on some one of many shore excursions. Because I have been to Costa Rica before and once in the rain (or cloud) forest is enough for me, I lounged on deck with a Stephen King, a long way, indeed, from Marcel Proust.

In the afternoon, the boys went off to their zip line extraveganza while I took a nap and then had tea, oh so properly served - white gloves and all - in the Panorama Lounge. I was in shorts and a T-shirt and felt a little like Tommy Bahama meets Gosford Park. The tea was Earl Grey, steeped to timed perfection and served with little crustless tea sandwiches - cucumber and egg salad - and pound cake and banana bread. Sir Francis and "Honey," the chinese page boy/girl out of Doonesbury, kept me company. Francis is soon leaving the ship to return to his home in the Philippines where he will join his wife and son for the birth of his first daughter. Mario played classics from Rodges and Hammerstein and other bland piano accompaniments to the Earl Grey. "Once on a high and mighty hill, two lovers kissed in the morning mist..." You get the idea.

I met Ted and Bill in the bar where Myra (not Beckenridge) gave us our usual - a Grey Goose martini, very dry, straight up for Bill; a margarita, no salt, for me; and would you believe, a Cosmo for Ted. The drinks fortified us for a before-dinner show by Judie, ouor cruise director, who chronicled her long careet at sea among the gliteratti of the 1960's: Van Johnson, Merle Oberon, Omar Sharif, and comapany through her many years on the QE2. She ended the story of her life with a song, belted out from her very sequined 70-year-old chest. What a trouper!

Tomorrow is another day at sea as we grow always closer to the Panama Canal. Onward!

Stay tuned.

Sunday, April 17: At Sea

I attended today the first of two lectures on the Panama Canal called, "A Man, A Plan, A Canal, Panama," which true to the nature of the lecturer who tries, somewhat unsuccessfully, to be cute, spells the same backward as foward. Having read David McCullough's "Path Between the Seas," I didn't learn much in the lecture that was new to me except for a couple of intersting facts: R. H. Macy of deparment store fame got his start selling supplies to miners going west for the Gold Rush (just as Nordstrom began selling shoes to miners on their way to the Yukon); and we weigh less at the equator because the bulge effect caused by the earth's spin places us further from its core and thus gravity is somewhat reduced. Maybe I should move to Brazil? When the railroad that preceeded the path of the Canal was built in 1855, it was the most expensive railroad project in the world and commanded the highest priced stock on the market, paying a 44% dividend. The word "malaria" came from the French for "bad air," which before it was found that mosquitoes carried the germ for malaria, was thought to be its cause. The lecture continues on the day after tomorrow.

Ted and Bill and I spent most of the day on deck where I met Susan, a widow from LA who sat down in the chaise next to mine. (The Silver Cloud has unfortunately replaced the old mahogany steamer chiars in which, wrapped in a plaid blanket, I always imagined myself as a character in "An Affair to Remember" and now has grey mesh chaises with aluminum frames, probably much easier to move around but very difficult to get out of. My knees! My knees!) Susan is very bright, had been "in fashion" and worked as head of a verson of the School for the Arts where she still serves on its board. She has a round face wreathed with a Juliet cap of very curly greying tight curls and wears small, round, tortoise-rimmed glasses reminiscent of Philip Johnson. We had lots to talk about, including the care of aging parents.

In the afternoon, we played Canasta where the tactics are different when playing by yourself instead of with a partner. Ted, who's played before and was only a little rusty, jumped ahead. The competition continues. I won the Silver Quiz again by correctly identifying 23 homonyms (?), two word pairs where the words sound the same but are spelled differently and have different meanings. "If four couples went out for dinner, you could say that.......eight ate." This foolishness is right up my intellectual alley. And that of a few others; there were three other winners. We decided to celebrate Ted's 60th birthday so made a reservation for La Terrezza for eight o'clock. We had pre-dinner drinks in the bar - Myra shook and Sir Francis served - and had a lovely Italian meal crowned by a chocolate mousse cake presented by Aldrin and all the restaurant staff with a rousting "Happy Birthday," sung in many different keys. When Bill and Ted returned to their suite, they found all the towel animals gathered for a party with lighted candles and many balloons. I guess our butler, Romeo, and our maid, Princess, don't have enough to do. Or they're just be especially nice.

Tomorrow is Puntarenas, Costa Rica.

Stay tuned.

Saturday, April 16: Puerto Quetzal, Guatemala

I compose these entries by taking notes during each day, which remind me, the next day, of those occurances I think might interest you. But a lot of this day (now yesterday, if all that makes sense) was spent on a bumpy bus and my handwriting is so bad that I can't deciper a lot of it. No matter; I'll do the best I can to remember today (now yesterday), without Proust's madelene to dip into my tea. More by process of elimination than by preference- several other choices included helicoptor rides, at very hefty prices, to Tikal or Copan, prominent Mayan acheological sites here in Guatemala - I chose to go on something called "an Auto Safari." And the trip was exactly that, an hour's bus ride to what was originally someone's private park but is now essentially a zoo, with tropical animals. I couldn't help thinking, as I was taking a close-up portrait of a gifaffe, that having seen these kinds of animals in their natural habitat, it was a shame to keep them far from home as slaves to tourist photography. I hope they are well-cared-for, but they looked sadly dog-eared and dusty. I had never before seen a jaguar, although I've always known that in Mezo-America they were sacred to the indians. And for those Guatemalans who will never get to Kenya, seeing a zebra in all its striped elegance must be a thrill. On the way to and from the park, I learned some facts about Guatemala I didn't already know: it's the world's fourth largest producer of sugar cane; mace and cashews (whose nut is on the outside, not the inside of the fruit) are grown here; Guatemala has over 3000 archeological sites; the classic period of the Maya was from 300 - 900 AD - they were gone by the time the Spaniards came, in 1524; the land has many volcanoes - 200-300 - and the volcanic ash has provided soil rich in nutrients. Aren't you pleased to know all that?

It's now every hot, so hot outside that one want to stay inside, in air-conditioning. or make frequent dips in the pool. Before the barbecue at the pool, a special feature of most cruises, Ted and Bill and I had a nice conversation with Gianni, the hotel manager (who keeps saying he wants us to join him for dinner but has so far not invited u s) about provisions for the cruise: 3300 bottle of wine, about 120 bottles for each dinner, 600 bottles of champange. Although he wouldn't disclose the costs per day to run this ship, our crude calculation of Silover Sea's income for a cruise like this is about a quarter of a million bucks, which translates into $160,000 a day. Not chicken feed! After the barbecue, we had a show on deck by the resident troupe - a male, and female singer, two lead dancers (one of which is our friend, Todd) and three female dancers. They stirred up the guests into a frenzy of disco - "YMCA"- late into the night. Tomorrow (now today, just to keep you confused) is another sea day so everyone can recover. Puetro Quetzel wasn't much, a container port with a few souvenir booths. Ted bought a fair amount of crafts for his store. It was very interesting to watch him negotiate, kind, friendly, laughingly serious, if you can imagine that.

Stay tuned.

Friday, April 15: At Sea (between Acapulco and Guatemala)

The humidity is now so high that my cameral lens fogs over first thing in the morning and the camera can't "see" to focus. I had to keep wiping the lens surface to get a (not so good) sunrise. The day was very lazy. I spent most of it on deck with Swann and Odete and their multi-troubled relationship. The read is not easy going but I persist and the effort is worth it. A dip in the pool, which felt so good in the heat, nonetheless exposed my face and head and shoulders to the now tropical sun and I was badly burned, looking like the rare tournedos I had for dinner perched on top of my tuxedo. Jorge put us at a table in the middle of the dining room (for a change) so we missed our usual waiters, Henry and Harlan. We were, however, not far from Chanel, chicly dressed in black and silver with one of her enormous rings on her index finger. Billy flirted with her so that she came to our table as she was leaving the dining room to tel us how handsome we all looked in our formal wear. We played Bingo again, winning a few games (my Silver Sea points are adding up). I went to a Venetian Society cocktail party where Tiffany crystal emblems were presented to those who have traveled an impressive number of nights - the big award went to an elderly lady from The Netherlands who has accummulated almost 500 nights. At an average rate of between $500 and $750 a night, that's a significan investment in pleasure. I guess she can afford it. She was dressed in Kelly green satin with a stole and wearing a hard to miss emerald and diamond necklace. The big news of the day came via email to Bill's I-phone. His niece, Rachael, who auditioned recently for the role of Amelia, the doll role (in which she is truly unbelievable) in The "Tales of Hoffman," won the part and will debut in it at La Scala in January.

Stay tuned.

Thursday, April 14: Acapulco

At breakfast this morning, I learned that Bill's new I-Phone for which he bought a temporary international plan, had been sending data - or at least trying to - for the last 22 hours. Bill shared the problem with our headeaiter, Aldrin who, apparently a computer whiz, helped Bill to get it stopped and back to normal. Then Bill discovered he had over 150 e-mails, which took him several hours to process, through breakfast and the first part of our land excursion, "Sights of Acapulco and the Cliff Divers."

Although the divers have regularly scheduled dive times in the afternoon and evening, the shore excursion company had arranged a series of special dives for us in the morning. It was a clear, hot day and the sea looked enticing but I wondered how it looked at 45 to 110 feet - depending on the skill level of the diver - to the divers themselves. We were all safely ensconced on the balconies and terraces of the Mirador Hotel while the divers climbed up the steep cliffs to a pinnacle where they prayed to Our Lady of Guadaloupe, crossed themselves and then plunged, in a beautiful swan dive, into a small inlet in the sea, only about 10 - 15 feet deep. Alejandro, our guide, said there had never been a fatality but the speed at which the diver hits the water had produced some broken bones. Divers used to work for tips but have now formed themselves in a club with about 40 members - the diver who dives from the higest spot is the leader - and now are paid from funds collected from shore excursions and prices at The Mirador Hotel. What a way to make a living!

The rest of the tour wasnot much: a long bus ride through heavy traffic down Acapulco's main drag, up into the hills past Las Brisas and to the Acapulco Princess Hotel on the Pacific Ocean, where we were greeted with margaritas. At 10 o'clock in the morning! I tried to identify places I have been - Batos Beach, a condo rented years ago on the beach, Ocho Cabellos - but without luck. Some things are probably better left as fond memories.

Bill and Ted left the bus on the way back to indulge in shopping for Ted's store. I was very hot and tired and had a quiet, solitary lunch and a long nap. Princess had made a monkey out of towels and hung it in the ceiling with a note welcoming me back.

I remember a time in my life when I rushed to the beach at 10 AM and stayed there all day, coming home from beach resorts tanned and healthy-looking and tryhing to preserve that glow as long as possible. Now I stay out of the sun - a loss of pigment in my skin, thanks to chemotherapy, simply leads to ugly burns and I find I have little tolerance for heat (was this the wrong cruise for me?). I also find my stamina waning. I have some trouble getting up from a seated position and my balance isn't perfect. But like others, some even on canes or in a wheelchair, I am led around, like part of the herd, from one bus stop to the next. Everyone moves at his own pace, mostly slowly, and I wouldn't want to be a tour leader.

At the bar before dinner, I had a nice conversaton with Tom, the older of the two dance hosts. He's been at this gig with Silver Sea for two years and this is his 10th cruise. He's perfectly made for his job - attractive (but not too attractive), sauve, a good converstionalist and always watching to see which lady seems alone and needs attention. Better him than me. Once, while fun in its own way, was enough.

Stay tuned

Wednesday, April 13: Zihuatenejo to Acapulco

In the original Nuatal language of the area, "Zihua" meant "woman" and "tenejo" meant "place." Hence "Place of Women," who, like the Amazons, ruled in this area to the extent that when the Spaniards came in the 1730's men had been sacrificed more than women and women outnumbered men by four to one. When Mexico decided in the 1970's to make Ixtapa, a few miiles farther doen the coast, into a major resort (like it created in Cancun) Zihua, as the town is familiarly known, was a sleepy fishing village of about 7000 people. Now Zihua and Ixtapa togethr have a combined population of about 110,000.

While Bill and Ted went snorkeling, I took a land tour known as "the terra cotta countryside." I had visions of great, colorful vistas of land and sea, perfect for my photography, but the countryside was disappointingly brown and grey, as though it hadn't been dusted since the end of the rainy season last October. I did learn quite a bit about coconut palms at a coconut palm plantation where we had a vivid demonstration - and some edible samples - of all the things coconuts are used for. New coconut trees sprout from coconuts - no surprise - have to be watered for the first five years and then, once established, their roots deep down into the earth, can live to be 110 years old. During harvest, about every three months, a crew of 20 - 30 men can harvest as many as 7000 coconuts a day. Aren't you glad you know that? On the same farm, owned by a doctor friend of our guide, we saw growing pistachios, cashews, papayas, red peppers, all in their so-called "natural" (read planted for tourists) environment. I did get some nice photographs of those.

Then on to an indian tile-making enterprise, four men, working outdoors, scraping wet clay into forms to make those half cylindrical roof tiles so endemic to hot climates. The head man, who can make 400 tiles a day, allowed us to try making one; it was much harder than it looks. If you're not precise, the cylinder loses its oomph and flattens into a pancake.

Next came a seaside cafe, in a small fishing village on the coast where the resident parrot, Lorenzo, resolutely refused to say hello. He was busy picking at the feathers in his green chest. There was a vast pavilion on the beach with a lot of kids, scrambling around in the dirty sand and their parents trying to control them. There were many picnic tables with benches and everyone was having a grand time. The ceiling of the pavilion was covered with very colorful paper streamers, crinkle cut like fancy french fries. These all blew madly in the breeze and I got some great photographs of this riotous confusion of color.

We, the elderly and infirmed set, limped back to the harbor and caught the last tender back to the ship, which sailed immediately for Acapulco.

The weather is markedly hotter - the temperature is 84 degrees and the humidity 77 percent. My ankle remains swollen even though I'm taking medication to reduce the edema. Ted and Bill are delightful traveling companions: caring, funny, easy.

Acapulco at night, from the ship now anchored in the Bay, is very romantic, thousands of lights, like fireflies, scattered over the hills, beckoning. Still, we've been warned not to go ashore, especially at night, unless we're in a large group. So we ate aboard and turned in early for an 8 AM departure tomorrow for the famous cliff divers.

Stay tuned.

Tuesday, April 12: At Sea

I love days at sea, free from a pre-planned schedule, a time of impulsive choice, or no choice at all. I chose the sunrise, as usual, but it was again rather ordinary, at least until the sun actually breached the sea in a blaze of red/orange, rising surprisingly quickly once it began and over within a minute or so. When I think about the world revolving, I always have the sensation that the sea is falling of its edge, like an infinity pool; it's easy to see how our ancient elders believed the world was flat and one could sail right off the edge.

The temperature, now in the 70's with a slight breeze, enticed me to breakfast outside on deck, which turned out to be a solityary one because Bill and Ted forgot to set their watches forward an hour. No matter. The poached eggs on toast were wonderful, perfectly cooked and served by Harlan and Joselitto who, like the waitresses at Jimmy's, now call me "Mr. Phil."

At another morning cooking demonstration - this one by the ship's Relais & Chateaux chef - Ted and I learned how to bone a rack of lamb and make a sauce from aromatic vegetables, lamb scraps (including the bones) and red wine. We also learned how to keep a lobster tail from curling, and how to saute it with baby aspargus. All this with a caviar croquette and champagne, and a couple, Jean and Dick, from Newport Beach who I discovered were on the first two legs of the Regent Voyager when I served as gentleman host on the last two legs. Small world.

Watching the mass of people jammed and scattered haphazardly around the pool is always fun. The middle-aged woman who fought with her floppy hat, trying to both see beyond its undulating rim and remain chicly hidden at the same time. She lost. The very elderly and wizened woman pushing her husband around the deck while he was seated on the Rolls Royce of walkers with regal, Aga Khan aplomb. the woman we named Chanel (after her huge quilted black bag with two C's) with the bad face lift and overblown lips. Bodies everywhere, basing in their oil in the bright sun, much like caramelizing the lamb bones for the morning's sauce. The three who always save their chaises with cute plastic clips shaped like flamingoes, holding their towels. The oriental couple with the day-glo bathing suits, a little too loud and very happy after their two Cosmos before 11 o'clock.

We won again at Bingo but failed mserably at Trivial Pursuit - who knows what sort of creature a jambalo is? - despite the lady from Palm Springs who hesitantly joined us, saying she wasn't competitive but then insisting that she knew the answers to everything. (Can you name the seven countries that border Turkey?) A nap, some of "Swan's Way," which I promised myself I'd wade through this trip, and this time, without bogging down. Dinner in the Italian restaurant with the very hot head waiter, Aldrin, from Bulgaria - his mother named him after Buzz Aldrin - and the night's show with our new friend Todd, the dancers and the singer. They were incredibly good. And I don't say that lightly. It wasn't just the margaritas talking.

I discovered that I've taken 20 pictures on my little camera without any memory card. I didn't know the camera could do that. So I'll have to get Aldrin to pose for me again. Forgive my errors in spelling and grammar. It's just too expensive to go back and correct them. On to Zihautenejo!

Stay tuned

Monday, April 10: Cabo San Lucas

Sunrise today was more interesting - great bands of fiery red above the horizon, with another ship on the sea between us and land, the ship lit up and sparkling in the distance. It turned out to be the Norwegian Star, with 2500 passengers, anchored in the great Bay of Cabo where we, too, anchored next to her like a little sister. We tendered into a busy port, with much confusion, people everywhere, boats, hawkers of souvenirs, where a group of us on a tour called "Cabo by Land and Sea" transferred to another boat for the short ride out to Las Arcos, a naturally formed rock arch close to the beach. Right at where the land ends, one can walk from the beach on the Sea of Cortez (Love Beach) to the beach on the Pacific called "Divorce Beach." I don't know why. The day was lovely, warm but not too warm, with a slight breeze. There were many people in boats and on the beach. Naturally, I took many pictures. Back at the dock, we transferred to a big blue bus for the land portion of the tour: a glass blower made a pitcher; we had a drink at an Italian restaurant with many terraces down to the sea overlooking the bay, quite a lovely place; and visited Cacti Mundi, a park filled with 40,000 species of cacti, the largest park of its kind in the Americas. Extremely tired after all of this, I staggered back to the deck bar for a much needed Margarita. Ted and Bill went kayaking, where Ted fell in the water - no harm, he thought it part of the fun.

At dinner, Jorge seated us with Todd, a young dancer with the show, and his boyfriend, Matthew, visiting from Sydney where he is a professional drag queen. They invited us to the Crew Party (a rare privilege) where Matthew will do his number with other members of the crew in a show that Todd calls a "Drag Off." There are two dance hosts on board, one with lots of beautiful grey hair and the other younger and so tall he towers a head above his partner. They're both good dancers, although I could see they had the same problems with their partners that I experienced on the Regent Voyager. Some partners only want to stand and move from one foot to the other, without any pattern. They're incredibly hard to steer. I'm so glad I'm not required to do that any more.

I met Frank and Catherine from the UK on their very first cruise to celebrate their 40th wedding anniversay; Myrna from Dade County (she wouldn't tell me just where), traveling alone; Avi and John from Atlanta - she's Israeli; and a couple from Australia by way of Mauri on a cruise holiday given to them by their son. Everyonoe is having fun, sunburned in the oddest places, where we forgot to put sun screen. Unbelievably tired. I didn't win the Silver Quiz, all about music: "From what opera comes a favorite aria about an overcoat?" Having this much fun is hard work. No pictures here now; they take too much valuable time to load. I'll add them when I get home.

Stay tuned...

Sunday, April 10: At Sea

Where once Silver Sea seemed the epitome of luxury, there are now small but sadly apparent signs of the line's efforts at economy: only one bar of soap for both bathroom sink and shower, no doorbells at suite doors, no welcoming fruit basket in my suite, no shower curtain. These things are only small inconveniences - I asked for and received another bar of soap - but the line's new policy about the internet is a real pain. In order to conserve precious and expensive computer time, I have always previously composed my blog on Word, before signing onto the internet, then copy and paste what I've already written onto my blog. But this is no longer possible; one has to log on to do anything. So the few so poorly composed paragraphs from yesterday cost me over $25 to post. Now I'll have to write my composition out in longhand and then retype it on my blog. This is not only inconvenient but also difficult. My handwriting has so badly deteriorated that I can hardly read it. This will unfortunately limit my comments (and correct spelling) and when the current block of time I've booked runs out, there will be no more posts. Sorry about that.

The weather is lovely - a cool 55-60 degrees but it's nice to have a sweater over a T-shirt in the wind. The sea is calm with crests of 2 to 3 feet but with stabilizers, the ship runs a true and straightforward course; no need to hang onto the railing in the passageways. And although our suites (Slver Sea never alls them "cabins") are very far forward, and way beyond the fulcrum point, navigating around the bathroom has been easy. So far, so good. Although I was up at 5:00 AM for my traditional photograph of the sunrise, it didn't burst into flame until 7:24. I spent a lot of time on the wet deck with only the deck washing crew for company. And then the sunrise was pretty ordinary. Pretty but ordinary.

We attended a much touted lecture on Zihuatenejo and Acapulco, spiced up with pictures of Elvis making a movie there but much of what was said I alreay knew. And the lecturer's attempts at humor fell sadly flat. After that, a guest chief tried to teach us how to make chou pasty - no mean feat; I don't know why he chose something so difficult for beginners - but it sadly nearly defeated him. He kept stirring and stirring and calling for more and more eggs, the chou falling out of the bowl in little missles that he picked up and put back into the bowl, saying, "not to worry; the tablecloth is clean." He had trouble finding his vanilla beans and totally misplaced his (apparently much needed) notes. Ted and Bill and I finally left him in a miasma of pots and pans. I won the Silver Quiz - it was all about numbers, i.e. 3= BM (SHTR) - I guess I've had a few - and also a couple of games of Bingo. Points for all this may ultimately get me a Silver Sea T-shirt or a corkscrew. The food is as good as I remember it and you can still get room service 24 hours a day. But the smallest amount of caviar, once free, is not $25.00. Oh, and Jorge, the Portuguese head waiter on two of my previous curises, is on the ship as maitre d'hotel. He remembered me, or so he said. His hair is now a becoming grey. He asked to be remembered, fondly, to Rhea. Formal night - Captain's reception - clothes, jewels, hair. Lovely. Ketel 1 with olives, please, blinis with sour cream and caviar, champagne sorbet, lobster, Bed.

Stay tuned.

April 9, 2011: In the Air

On the plane from Baltimore to Philadelphia, I found, after quite a long conversation with my seatmate, Stephanie, that her husband is an ER doctor at the Gettysburg Hospital and is quite friendly with my friends Tim and Troy. What a small world! After six and a half hours from Philadelphia to San Diego, with a kicking, complaining, whining child behind us, we were met, as planned, by a representative of SilverSea and sent on to the pier by cab. At first, the cabbie couldn't find the ship, dwarfed by a Holland America ship and the Crystal Symphony, and when he did, we were told that the ship had docked late and even though it was time for us to board, we had to wait more than an hour for disembarking passengers to leave the ship, a confusion quite unlike the service I'm used to from Silver Sea. Finally aboard, I found my suite, right across the passageway from Ted and Bill. The luggage finally came and I unpacked before going topside for sailing, right behind Holland America and the Crystal Symphony. It was clearly a beautiful day, but windy and cold on deck.

At the solo cocktail party, to which I was invited by virtue of traveling in a single suite, I met the two dance hosts, quite a bit younger than I am, and surrounded by at least 25 other solo travelers. I had a very pleasant conversation with Marie, from Oswego, Oregon, quite the most elegant lady in the group. (I was lucky to be seated next to her, by chance.) Probably in her eighties, she was carefully coiffed and made up and told me that she is just beginning to travel again after the loss of both her husbands. She was feeling a little timid but I put on my dance host demeanor and she warmed up considerably.

Dinner was great but I was exhausted after such a long day and went to bed immediately after it. Ted and Bill seem enthusiastic about the ship and the cruise although it's apparent to me, since I've traveled with Silver Sea before, that the economy has caused some little signs of lesser service. I suppose that's to be expected. Among the differences is that this time on the internet is costing me $.35 a minute so these posts may be short.

Anyway, I met our butler for our deck (a new wrinkle) and our maid. When was the last time you had a butler named Romeo and a maid known as Princess?

Stay tuned (if I post again)

Phil

Tomorrow, at 4:30 AM

Yippee! I’m on the road again. Or to be more exact, ahoy, for it’s actually on the sea again. I’m leaving tomorrow morning – a pick-up is set for (if you can imagine this) 4:30 AM – for a flight to Philadelphia, then on to San Diego where I and my friends, Bill and Ted, will board the Silver Cloud for a cruise down the Mexican coast, through the Panama Canal and back home through the Caribbean. Sixteen days. And THIS TIME, as a passenger/guest, not as a workhorse dance host. I’m looking forward to being pampered. No more dancing with ladies who just want to stand still and jiggle up and down, or the ones who want to rigidly steer me around the floor, or the timid ones who can’t keep time and didn’t want to dance in the first place. No more arranging Solos for dinner, trying to avoid the problems of “I don’t want to sit next to her,” or “not that table; I ate there last night,” or most especially, “…no dear; the limes there are not green; they’re yellow!” No. I can be as lazy as I want, without having to samba though morning and afternoon dance lessons. I can eat breakfast alone, without having to play host to slug-a-beds, hung over from the night before and, thank goodness, best of all, no Austrian roommate to complain endlessly about my conduct and warn that “…on Cunardt, you vouldn’t last ten minutes!”

Our itinerary takes us to Cabo San Lucas, at the tip of Baja California, site of Liz and Dick’s famous filming of a sorely failed “Day of the Iguana” and a place I’ve nonetheless always wanted to see. Then we’re on to Zihuatenejo, where one of my dear friends has traditionally spent the winter. Acapulco and its beautiful bay come next. Reputedly somewhat faded from its heyday as the resort of the rich and famous, I still look forward to seeing again the glorious sunsets I remember and a chance to catch on film the cliff divers in the middle of their plunge to the sea. Puerto Quetzal, Guatemala, at least sounds exotic; I’m going on an “auto safari” there. Then it’s on to Puntarenas, in Costa Rica, a port in the northwestern, more Americanized, part of the country. And next the highlight of the cruise: transit of the Panama Canal. In preparation for this, I read “Path Between the Seas” by David McCullough, of “John Adams” fame, almost 600 pages of the French and American slog through the mosquito infested dig toward a shorter route to the Pacific. We’ll also see the San Blas Islands, a part of Panama but administered by the original Indians, much like the Maori in a part of New Zealand. And finally, Categena, in Columbia, an ancient city, port of much loot from the Americas back to Queen Isabella of Spain.

Between these ports, there are a number of days at sea, a part of every cruise that I especially anticipate, where I can laze on deck with a good book and a bartender bringing me one of those fancy drinks with an umbrella and a slice of pineapple, or where I can sneak up on the jogging track to take candid photographs of the passengers below, slathered in expensive sun tan lotion, or sleeping with their mouths open.

My routine is to take notes every day of events or facts I think might interest you, my faithful readers, and then post to this blog early the next morning. That is, unless, like those guests I once took care of, I’ve drunk and dined and danced all night.

Stay tuned.