Baltic Cruise #1

24 June 2008
“The best laid plans of Mice and Men sometimes go astray‘, to quote someone from the past. My airline reservations to get to Dover and the beginning of my first cruise left the field of the almost perfect and slid into the oblivion of second best. For some reason known only to airlines folks, the flight I had arranged that would get me to Heathrow in the AM changed to land me around 2:00 p.m. on the day I had to be at Dover by 4:00 p.m. Since this didn’t work, the next best that could be arranged was a round about flight that would get me to Heathrow in time but had me leaving more than twenty-four hours earlier.
Dottie and Linda, who was spending some time with Dad to help with packing necessary for the big move in the future and to help Tim with an interim move at Santa Cruz, took me to BART late Thursday evening so that I could catch a red-eye flight to Detroit. A much too long lay-over in Detroit connected me with another “red-eye” to Heathrow delivering me in the promised land twenty-four hours before I needed to be. An airport hotel helped with the “catching-up” with sleep and the final route to Dover and the Norwegian Jewel, my home for the next forty-eight days.
Parting really isn’t “sweet sorrow”, as quoth the bard. It’s the pits. Dottie and I realized during that fretful moment that we really have become important in each other’s life. My daddy taught me that grown men don’t cry, but sometimes a tear creeps into being despite one’s determination. Dottie, on the other hand, was all smiles looking forward to having some space she could call her own during the next few weeks.
Flying from San Francisco to Detroit during the wee hours was a snap. I was asleep before the plane left the ground and woke only as the clunk of the landing gears beneath my seat announced our arrival at Detroit. I have heard tell that Detroit is a wonderful place but nine hours trapped in the airport terminal ain’t that great. The only interesting thing about my sojourn was found in the fact that a national convention of “Little People” was convening in Detroit and the airport was filled with more small people than I ever imagined existed. It was interesting to see a dozen or more families with two or three children that were all very small. And all appearing very much as everyone else as they wheeled their suitcases through the airport.
Our flight from Detroit took us around Lake Erie and through the familiar territory of Northern New York State. We skirted Ithaca to the south and Syracuse to the north as we headed into Vermont passing over Montpelier and Barre, cities that evoke some memory from the past that escapes me for the moment. I was pleased to learn through the pilot’s announcement, that the flight from Detroit to London only takes six hours; just enough time for another snooze. By the time we finished a marvelous pasta dinner accompanied by the usual shredded lettuce salad, cold roll, packaged cheese that was nearly impossible to open and the inevitable packaged cookies, we had left the coast of Maine and were over the North Atlantic heading for the British Isles. Oh yes, I must mention the marvelous little bottles (2) of Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon that helped make the meal palatable. By the time Nova Scotia and Newfoundland had slid under the belly our shiny cocoon, my eye lids were at half mast promising another restful night among the clouds.
I met Marty, my traveling bridge mentor, at Heathrow. After a night at a nearby Travel Lodge, we took the underground into London where we were able to catch a train to Dover. The underground route was inexpensive but not for sissies with heavy suitcases. All went well until we had to navigate a change of “lines” to reach Charring Cross Station where our train awaited. London underground is noted for it’s stairs and non working escalators. Carrying my two suitcases, loaded to the legal limit, up and down a half dozen stair sets convinced me not to repeat the thrill ever again. We made it to Charring Cross and our train and a two hour ride to Dover. At Dover we opted to walk, with suitcases in tow, to the ship. My memory was that the “easy” walk couldn’t have been more than three quarters of a mile. Marty thought it might be as much as a mile. Since both of us had walked Dover in the past, we each knew he was right. Actually, the walk turned out to be more like three mile and worthy of a good sweat by the time we reached the ship where a whole host of smiling faces and a flute of champagne greeted us. We were home.
The Norwegian Jewel is three years old and one of the larger ships in the Norwegian Cruise Line armada of pleasure. To satisfy the gastronomic needs (supposed or real) of the 2700 passengers, no less than eleven (11) restaurants are available. Seven of the restaurants charge an extra $10 to $25 per person for the special atmosphere and food specialties they serve. An interesting feature of the eating business is an electronic bulletin board system that lets passengers know how busy each of the venues is at a given time. If you want to avoid the inevitable queues caused by 2700 passengers wanting to eat at the same time, you have only to find one of the boards and select from the restaurants that are least popular at that moment. What won’t they think of next?
Our passage north toward Copenhagen was rough the first night and into the following day. At least that is what I’ve been told. Ship board sleeping has always been my long suit and the Big Guy’s hand rocking the cradle really takes me to “Z” land big time.
Love to all.
Grandpa Bill, Dad, Bill and …………………….