Of course, the hotel room is not ready but the lobby is available to us so we can update the blog while most of our friends at home sleep. It is 12:18 AM in Tucson -- 3:18 AM on the east cost. So we are 9 hours ahead of Tucson.
What follows are random postings written up as we crossed the Atlantic.
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SUNDAY, APRIL 6 – EMBARKATION
The trip to Fort Lauderdale was long
but uneventful. After a good night's sleep, we stocked up on wine for
the cruise (4 bottles of “14 Hands”, and boarded the ship,
Holland America's 'Nieuw Amsterdam,' with no trouble. Our inside
Counting our day of embarkation, we
have seven—count 'em—seven days at sea before stopping at a
port—time for lots of naps, reading, and leisurely dining.
Fortunately, our two table-mates at dinner, Will and Linda Smith, are
liberals—former teachers from Pennsylvania, living now in—of all
places—a Del Web community in Bluffton, South Carolina (The Haven).
Talk about fish out of water.
Days at sea blend one into another. The
two lectures series, one on globalization and one on European
history, are so bad, we stopped going, and the nightly shows
featuring such delights as songs from the 60s, 70s, and 80s are even
worse. That leaves reading plus breakfasts, lunches and dinners as
the highlights of the days. The ship changes the floor mats in
the elevators to help people keep track of the days.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 9 – JUST
WALKING!
Finally, something to write home
about. As I was completing
my third mile of speed walking on the deck
today, I fell, cut my head on a cabinet they store life jackets
in, and landed on my back in a pool of blood. A ring of anxious
faced hovered over me, and three men stayed with me until the medics
arrived. Under the command of Dallas, a nurse of unquestioned
authority, I was gently slid onto a stretcher, my head supported by a
stiff collar, and wheeled to the Sick Bay, where Dr. Alderdice, a
just-retired regional director of a northwestern organization of
emergency physicians, cleaned me up, determined I had no broken
bones, and proceed to mend my wounds with no fewer than 25 stitches.
I was discharged into Bob's care looking like Johnny Carson's
soothsayer, Carnak. Happily, no blood clot has appeared, and I appear
to be on the mend, but I should have scars to invent stories about
for the rest of my life.
SUNDAY, APRIL 13 – HORTA,
PORTUGAL
About all one can say about Horta on Palm Sunday is that it does not
pitch, roll or vibrate under foot.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL
16 – MONKEY BUSINESS
In Gibraltar, I could say we rode the funicular to the top of the
rock, admired the view all the way to Africa, watched the Barbary
Apes frolic, and explored the caves. The ship did not dock until 1:00
pm, however, and by the time we arrived at the ticket booth for the
cable cars, the line stretched around a city block. We stood in it
for half an hour before deciding we'd much rather explore the small
botanic garden nearby. I cannot imagine why Spain wants this place
back.
SATURDAY, APRIL
19 – AN ARCHEOLOGICAL DISCOVERY
In the Provincial Archeological Museum of the delightful city
The esplanade, made of millions of small marble pieces, gives a 3-D
impression of a wavy walkway. We took advantage of the stroll to
photograph our shipmates, the Smiths, the anomalies of South
Carolina.
I should add that this morning Dr. Alderdice removed the last of the
adhesive strips on the major three-quarter tear over my right
eyebrow. My other wounds are mostly healed.
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Now we are in Barcelona on Easter Sunday. Our understanding is that the city now begins two days of massive partying...celebrating the end of the high holy season. For us, our flight to Prague leaves at 7:45 tomorrow morning so, like our last stop in Barcelona with Karin, we will be up and off very, very early. Till then...
