The Chardonnay Sisters & the Somali Pirates of the Caribbean

Warnings – Pretty much PG-13; exceedingly long; pre and post cruise narrative; no actual new information; cheesy goldfish; no real Somali Pirates to speak of; liver abuse (professional grade); senior moments; and generally speaking, more vices than virtues.

 

With our local winter temperatures plummeting to the mid 80s, the Evil Twin and I decided we needed to escape the sultry conditions and seek out a latitude that did not render our chardonnay tepid faster than we could drink it. Simply put, heat makes things expand and we couldn’t afford to expand any further. Greenland sounded good but seems to be perpetually out of our price range. Iceland made the list but we’ve tried before and you just can’t get there from here. A visit to Northern Europe a few years ago found them experiencing the hottest thermal conditions since biblical times.

 

Antarctica is melting and since I’m a Sun Goddess (it follows me everywhere – even indoors) I reluctantly promised Al Gore that I wouldn’t further endanger penguins or polar bears by visiting either of the poles. Clearly, further research was in order.

 

Global warming aside, I’m distressed to say that most of the actual land masses on the planet seem to clustered dangerously close to the Equator, for which I vehemently blame Rand-McNally, and so after some hot flash/panic attacks, we found ourselves in the unlikely position of looking toward the Caribbean.

 

Other than the high temperatures and borderline illegal humidity that normally keep us away from such destinations, HAL tends to use its larger vessels for these itineraries and we’ve never quite gotten into the rhythm of these “Enormodams.” Still, that wine’s not gonna drink itself (wine may not be our only vice, but we’ve found it wise not to practice two vices at once.)

 

So we buckled down, turned up the A/C and fanned ourselves for all we’re worth while perusing the catalogs. Eventually, there were two things that sealed the deal. One, we’d recently returned from a week in Cabo San Lucas and those summer clothes were still in their dry cleaning bags; and two, we found a cruise that stopped in Bonaire.

 

In 2009, we perspired our way through a Panama Canal Holiday voyage and met Solange, a seriously cool lady from Bonaire, and her family, who we stayed in touch with via email and Facebook after returning home. Now that we had a “friend” on the island, we thought it a perfect opportunity to get the inside scoop from a local and maybe even have the opportunity to take her to lunch and catch up with her in person. Assuming we could find someplace with air conditioning. Or at the very least -- shade.

 

This was to be a girls’ getaway and so the Sis’ Long Suffering Hubby (LSH) was going to be on his own for a bit while we hit the seas. This upped the difficulty level a tad as he’d had a bit of a health scare recently and we scrambled to make sure we’d have every possible means of communication available. But hey, how tough can that be in the 21st century? (In hindsight, I should put that on a t-shirt.)

 

Day 0 – Travel. The alarm went off before I’d actually fallen asleep and I was pretty sure I could see the inside of my own skull. I didn’t really have time to complete the packing I’d only started the night before (I generally start packing two hours before I leave for a trip but I have a hard rule that I must be unpacked within a month of returning home. I consider that a virtue) Oh well, within minutes of getting out of the shower and feeding the cats, the cab was here and the packing was as done as it was ever going to be. I'd have to knock over a Winn-Dixie in Florida for whatever I’d left behind.

 

I directed the cab to the Evil One’s lair and judging by her scowl, she seemed to agree with me that mornings are best left as things that happen to other people. “You look like I could use a drink,” I thought as we sped off to the Flyaway bus station for our trek to the horror that is LAX. We were dropped at a terminal that we both swore we’d never seen before but we still found a nice little bar where breakfast wine happened and moods were lifted. (Oh, don’t pretend to be appalled; what is brunch if not an excuse to have booze for breakfast?)

 

We’d booked the flights using miles so our itinerary was a little wonky. LAX – DFW – FLL on the way out and MIA – IAH – LAX coming home. In any case, not my lookout – Sis is the super-organized one; all I have to do is not shuck the leash and she’ll get me where I need to go. This works out well because my decision making skills closely resemble those of a squirrel trying to cross the street.

 

In Dallas, we stopped at a beautiful restaurant called Pappadeaux that doesn’t look at all like it belongs in an airport but we passed on the raw seafood because this is a family show and no one wants to read about how we would have responded to that. But the wine was very nice.

 

Once in Fort Lauderdale, we took a hotel shuttle to the Comfort Suites where we were cheerfully greeted by the cherubic desk clerk, Greg, who regaled us with the list of amenities the hotel had to offer. “… We have a fitness center down the hall; it’s awful. I hate exercise! So just skip that…” He also recommended a restaurant for a late dinner, Ernie’s BBQ, which was just a few streets over and served up some well-earned comfort food after a long travel day.

 

After dinner, we hit the CVS next door for some wine for the room as well as the two bottles of contraband we were permitted to bring on the ship the next day. (BTW, for the first time ever, my bag did not exceed the 50 pound weight limit. It was still heavier than the Twin’s but I’ll always be taller, so there!) Once at the hotel, I was able to see why I came in so light; I had neglected to pack several necessities so, “nice job, CVS.” Still, I was a bit relieved to see that no cats had stowed away. They like to burrow into the suitcase and I really didn’t have time to do a headcount before zipping up.

 

We slept through breakfast and walked down to find a lobby overflowing with people waiting for shuttles to the pier, many of whom seemed to be going with the “multiple shopping bags as luggage” option. Bold, I think. The shuttle was $6 per person and a cab $15. We decided the cab was a better deal and we could wait. So we skipped the rush and walked across A1A to the local Denny’s for some pre-cruise pancakes.

 

At some point the waiter, asking if we wanted two more sodas said, “Two more diets, ladies?” We assumed he was making a suggestion based on our weight and decided to skip dessert (and maybe walk to the pier.)

 

After another stop at CVS to counteract more bad packing, we were finally on our way to the ship. We got there about 1:00 after the lines had dwindled and were whisked through so fast, we weren’t ready. It really does make sense to give it an hour or so to avoid the lines. Still – note to self – xanax is essential for travel days and the first day on the ship. Especially if the local Denny’s doesn’t have a liquor license.

 

Day 1 – Embarkation, Fort Lauderdale. For the first time that I can remember, we got on board and could not immediately find our Happy Place. The Crow’s was closed. The Sea View was loud. The Ocean was dead. We finally, as a last resort, landed in the Lido Bar and ordered a bottle, the first of the day, which was late for us on a vacation day (or weekend, or holiday, or Friday, etc.).

 

Then another strange thing happened. We’d ordered the Caliterra chard which we’ve previously enjoyed. We both thought it was terrible but being professionals, vowed to, quite literally, suck it up. For the next bottle, once the Crow’s was opened, we ordered the Alice White, another go-to favorite for these quantity-over-quality gals. Absolutely awful. Our next choice, recommended by a helpful Inebriation Assistant at the Ocean, was a Rosemount which was twice the price. They all tasted like fruit salad served in tin foil. This was starting to become worrisome.

 

Now we’ve both heard it said that in the early stages of pregnancy, the sense of taste can be severely impacted. If there are any miraculous occurrences in the next several months, we’ll let you know (or just look to the North and follow the star).

 

Once in the room, we changed clothes and brought out the first of many novelty purses we had packed. The Evil One has the one that garners the most attention. A large green fish. Wherever she goes, heads turn and new friends are made. My purse this day was an accordion that many people comment on because it looks authentic enough that it just might be playable. Alas, no. It can barely hold the things I need it to but it starts conversations just the same and I don’t have to stuff a washcloth in the tail to keep it from flopping.

 

The muster drill passed muster and we went to take a look at our table in the upper dining room. We always request a table for just us since it’s fun to chat with folks around the ship but dinner is our time. Of the two of us, Sis is better about being sociable with strangers; I can usually find a corner in a round room. Our table wasn’t great – along an inner walkway which would have a lot of traffic. On a four or five day repositioning cruise, we would not have said a word. But with 10 days ahead of us, we very gently asked the MDR honcho if there was any possibility of changing. He told us that he would accommodate us if he could but there were 21 requests before us. We let him know it was no problem at all and we’d be fine where we were.

 

Then we paid a visit to the Queen’s Lounge where the wine guys were walking folks though the packages. We’d never paid much attention before but I was a newly crowned four star mariner and the discounts could no longer be discounted. Packages happened. It was a 10 day cruise so we purchased a 7 day and a 3 day for the dining room.

 

We also asked if the first wine tasting was a 4-star perk and were told it was and that Sis would be grandfathered in by virtue of the fact that she was lucky enough to be traveling with me. As if I hadn’t driven that point home to her before. We also bought the second wine tasting because, let’s face it, we don’t taste nearly enough on our own and we needed to keep our skills honed. It may be vacation but there’s always work to be done. And we always meet nice people at the wine tastings.

 

Our first night in the MDR was great, despite the table not being the most desirable, and afterwards we set out to check out the Piano Bar. If it’s not Jimmy Maddox, the Piano Bar rarely excites. But I’d checked the program and recognized this guy’s name. Unfortunately, I couldn’t remember if I read that he was Elton John, Billy Joel and Thelonious Monk all rolled into one or that he needed his toes to play Chopsticks. He was much closer to the former than the latter. We’d found our Happy Place. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to last.

 

Michael Sara delivered a fantastic show that had everyone chair dancing and singing off-key. He might have even bumped Jimmy from the top spot but I guess we’ll never know. We got seats at the piano the first night and managed to sit at the banquettes the second. And never again got within 15 feet of the door.

 

Complaint alert!!!! He told us on night one that he doesn’t take breaks as a courtesy to his audience; I think this is a big mistake. There are a lot of things to do on a ship and if the entertainer doesn’t take a break, people don’t feel they can move on comfortably without offending. And if people don’t move on, new peeps can’t get in. Especially late dinner folks. Ten days and we couldn’t get near him after day two which was a shame. HAL should at least have featured him in the main showroom once or twice so everyone could enjoy this truly talented performer.

 

Day 2 – Half Moon Cay. We got up in time for breakfast on the Lido. (Note to HAL – why would you hide raisins in otherwise perfectly innocuous bread rolls? Why?)

 

We’d been to HMC once before. I have a very vivid memory of being on the large island tender and hearing the words, “Welcome to the Bahamas” and thinking I must have had a stroke as that was not something I ever expected to hear in my lifetime (I’m perspiration-averse, remember?)

 

It was no cooler this time, temperature-wise, but we made the trip over anyway, this time on the ship’s tenders as the Eurodam got priority for the larger ones. Like before, we hit three gift shops and a bar before returning to the somewhat climate-controlled mothership.

 

One thing sticks in my memory from this day. And when I say, “sticks in my memory,” I mean “is the most evil earworm since It’s a Small World.” It surfaced at the otherwise lovely outdoor bar overlooking the beach. They had a song on what seemed to a continuous loop that consisted entirely of a heavy bass and vocal “ooh oohs” interrupted every 15 seconds with a stern voice saying, “Barbra Streisand.” I was sure their PA system was malfunctioning but Sis looked it up when we got home. It’s an actual song by a band called Duck Sauce. If you click on the link, we are not responsible for any aural rehabilitation that might be required.

 

We got back to the ship and cleaned up in time to have a glass of wine at the Ocean Bar in preparation for wine tasting at 2:00. Yes, even professionals need to do the warm-up.

 

Once we felt sufficiently prepared to taste in a formal setting without looking like amateurs, we went to the MDR to check out our new table. We hadn’t been able to connect to any digital mailboxes while on shore but received a note in our analog one (outside the door) that the Maître D had managed to find us new digs.

 

Rewind – all two of you who have followed our less than notorious adventures on the high seas might remember a tidbit from our Alaska cruise last May. We spent four nights on the Amsterdam from San Diego to Vancouver and then seven on the Statendam from Vancouver to Anchorage. Adi was the junior waiter on the first leg of the trip. He was a blast. Slightly campy, seriously dramatic; we adored him.

 

We left his ship and two days later ran into him in Ketchikan. Massive hugs ensued. Sis, being older than me and easily confused, told him we were looking forward to seeing him that night in the dining room. I had to remind her we’d left his ship. It became a long-running joke, even once we were home – “If I run into Adi, don’t let me tell him I’ll see him tonight”.

 

A week later, after leaving our second ship of the voyage, we ran into him again in Anchorage. It was starting to get creepy, albeit in a very welcome way.

 

Fast forward -- The dining room was closed of course, and as we meandered around the empty room, looking at table numbers that follow no system I’ve ever heard of (maybe it’s that new Common Core math) – 77, 138, 14… – the lone crew member, re-stocking a waiter’s station, looked up and asked if he could help us. I think they heard the screams back on land. Adi! He immediately called us by name and if hugs could kill – scratch that – if hugs could heal, the world would be a better place today.

 

Adi was now serving dinner each night but other that that was working in the office, which we hope is a promotion but it meant we wouldn’t get to see him too much. We would have instantly asked to be moved to his section, but we’d already requested one seating change and we’re just never gonna be that difficult. Still, it was wonderful to see him and see him doing well.

 

Wine tasting was fun and we passed the course. Cellarmaster Matt hails from South Africa and acquired his love of wine early in life and worked his way through all manner of wine production before joining the ship. We met some very nice people and all things considered, the tasting was enough of a success that we decided to continue tasting at the Crow’s Nest.

 

Barman Gil immediately asked our names – Christianne and Diann and then introduced himself as Giliann. His shotguns became Roneliann and Ronaldoann and our fellow bar patrons were re-christened Carliann, Henryann, Earla-ann, pseudonyms that lasted the length of the cruise. Unfortunate passengers who arrived after our introductions never likely knew why their names were being twisted so.

 

From the start, Gil was funny, continually threatening to call security on one or both of us, Ronaldo quiet and efficient and Ronel quiet and seemingly a bit shy. All exhibited flawless dance moves during Happy Hour and kept the vibe in the Crow’s light and fun.

 

For once, trivia was not a big part of our trip. It tended to occur at the far end of the room, away from our preferred seats at the bar and we often couldn’t hear. Gil did such a good job introducing people to each other that it didn’t matter a bit; we were too busy chatting and making new friends to care about wrestling strangers for an enamel pin.

 

Eventually, we went back to the room to shower and get ready for the first formal night. Our new table was at the window but it was the very last one at the back of the dining room so we swapped seats each night as only one of us had any kind of view of the goings-on. Still, we are so impressed that they accommodated the change request at all. Our new servers knew our names before we sat down for the first time, hopefully not because we’d been tagged as difficult for requesting a change. We’d actually requested it before ever having dined at the first table so I hope they know it wasn’t a complaint about the staff, or even a complaint at all.

 

After dinner, I hit the Casino for my fix (boo, hiss – smokers!) and we caught most of the BB King show which was wonderful before hitting the Piano Bar for what we didn’t realize would be the last time, where Michael playfully chided us for being late. From that day forward I carried a folded piece of paper in my bag so that if it happened again, I could whip it out and declare that we had a note excusing our tardiness. Unfortunately, I never got to use it.

 

Day 3 – Grand Turk . We had time to do a few errands before leaving the ship so we headed to the Shorex Desk. Our friend in Bonaire had suggested that we get a morning tour of the North of the island, then she would meet us for lunch and take us on a private tour of the South side. We tried to sign up but the tour was booked. We asked to be waitlisted and hoped for the best.

 

By then, we were too late for breakfast but rolled off the ship when they said to and went in search of shade and wifi. Margaritaville promised both and we could clearly see the mob of people happily thumbing away on their various electronic devices. Wow, was it hot. I’m still ashamed of what I would have done to a Klondike Bar at that moment.

 

We ordered some wine and set about pulling out (no joke) two grandma cell phones, one iPhone, two Kindle Fires and an iPad in an attempt to make a connection with the outside world. Not to be.

 

All around us, people were happily logging onto Facebook, reading emails, sending selfies, checking news, watching bad Internet porn and we were sipping warm wine surrounded by $2,000 worth of electronic paperweights. Not a clue why. Maybe we’d signed up for Verizon’s Luddite Plan by mistake.

 

I was moderately OK with it, even though it had been days since I’d seen a new picture of The Cumberbatch, but the Evil Twin was freaking out big time. Understandable as she had the LSH at home to worry about. Still, it’s been said that civilization is 24 hours and two meals away from barbarism; I think it’s more like 24 hours with no wifi.

 

We hadn’t taken the time to look up what currencies were accepted at each of our destinations before leaving home but Sis had stuffed about 50 euro notes into her travel bag before leaving home. When the bill came, they had the total in dollars, pounds and euros so we were able to offload those and it pretty much felt like the warm wine was free. And warm wine really should be free, don’t you think?

 

Eventually, we got up (you know it’s hot when the chair gets up when you do) and moved out into the sun where we were actually able to at least make a couple of calls and confirm that everything was copacetic at home before leaving the island.

 

Once back on the ship, we had a drink and a nice chat with a new friend in the Ocean before heading to Happy Hour in the Crow’s. We were looking forward to the 5:00 appetizers as breakfast and lunch consisted of goldfish (the snack that smiles back!) but it was mostly things we couldn’t eat so we snagged a cheese plate from the Lido before heading to the room to clean up and re-group.

 

Back on the island, we had a shared senior moment when trying to recall the name of a movie. It was a beautiful love story between an 18 year old boy and an 80 year old woman who had so much to teach each other. Maybe early 70s. Nothing could bring it to mind. I swear, growing old is like being penalized for a crime you haven't committed. We vowed to ask the next person we chatted with who was over 50 but of course, the chances of us remembering to do that were slim.

 

We had a quick drink at the Sports Bar pre-dinner before setting off to join our friends in the MDR. Edgar, our wine stewart/stuart/steward recommended the Dreaming Tree chard which was the closest we came to finding a wine that had actually been swirled around an oak barrel and we knew things were looking up and the Grape Depression was over. (Has anyone ever had a wine steward name Stuart? That would be so classic.)

 

A couple of side notes – On some trips, the hot hors-d'oeuvres were reserved for formal night but this time were a nightly occurrence. We’d read on the boards that some ships were doing away with the Code Orange immediately after embarkation; the Noordam was one of those, which was nice. Every time we returned to the ship after a hot day ashore, we were greeted by cold towels, water and lemonade. They also didn’t seem to be chasing anyone around with the fire hose of hand sanitizer which I was terribly grateful for; it’s always difficult when the walkway is at a steep angle and they douse your hands in disinfectant and then expect you to clamber up the side of the ship, keycard in hand, without ending up ass over teakettle at the bottom of the ramp. Not that that ever happened. Really. YouTube lies.

 

Dinner was a lot of fun although I have to say, the food throughout the trip was fine but not in any way exceptional. Not a complaint, we’re always more interested in the service and the overall vibe coming off the crew members and that could not be faulted. The food itself was beautifully presented and we certainly never went hungry, but of the 10 days, I think we each had two meals we considered to be particularly good.

 

After dinner, we tried and failed to get near the Piano Bar. Crow’s was again DOA. Luckily, the BB King show was available and as always, great.

 

Day 4 – Samana, Dominican Republic. We woke up to pink tickets outside our door. Unfortunately they were for the afternoon tour in Bonaire, which we couldn’t do so we had to cancel. Oh well.

 

I was disappointed to step out onto the balcony to find that the heat index was somewhere between OMG and WT*. On the positive side of things, we didn’t get close to the island until later in the day so we had time for burgers at the Dive In before making our way to the tenders. It was a longish ride and I was surprised to hear people complaining about that. I can’t count the number of times we’ve paid good money for a half hour boat ride and couldn’t really see the problem. Patience, folks. Although, now that I think about it, if life is short why is patience a virtue? In any case, if you want something to gripe about, how about the fact that fast food chains don’t serve breakfast after 10:00 am? That’s an issue I’ll carry a sign for.

 

DR was a first for us. Immediately off the ship we saw that motorcycles were a preferred mode of transport and helmets were nowhere to be seen. Within minutes we saw two, three, four people on one motorcycle before finally seeing one with three peeps – driver, one behind, a television sized box, and another guy at the rear. And I feel overloaded if I have a passenger in my Toyota Echo.

 

We started off walking with no idea where we were going but we were following the crowd. We were confronted by several locals who wanted to shine my ankle boots, which I thought was an odd choice in a beachfront town and so I politely passed. There were quite a lot of stray (or as Her Evilness corrects me, undocumented) dogs roaming around and hoping for scraps from the tourists lining the streets.

 

Another interesting thing was the rain gutters dug along the streets. Basically, every time you stepped off a curb, you had to be careful to step out a good 10 inches to avoid the foot deep trench that I’m sure has claimed many a tourist’s ankle. We were sober and so it was relatively easy to do but after dodging traffic to get to the other side of the road, I vowed to pay particular attention on the way home.

 

We wandered a bit and finally came upon the Café du Paris which had a completely authentic (sic) replica of the Eiffel Tower out front and a six person bar that looked welcoming enough. Much like in Paris, the staff spoke no English but knew the words for “wine” and “wifi” which were all we needed to make us happy. At this point we knew air conditioning was out of the question. Still, when I said I’d like to see 130 someday, I meant my weight.

 

Once again, our numerous electronic devices seemed to be conspiring against us and while surrounded by people happily logging onto the web, we were encumbered with 30 pounds of paperweights. Another friendly local was insistent that my boots were in need of a shine. Again, there was a language barrier which he overcame by pantomiming the act, which would have been fine but I was wearing a long skirt and in order to act out his intentions, it was necessary that he get on the floor and practically crawl under said skirt to uncover the offending dusty boots. I too can play charades and I hope he understood me when I acted out, “I really have no intention of paying to have my $20 plastic Payless shoes shined but thank you very much for the offer and if you want to continue flapping my skirt up and down to create a breeze, that would be lovely and you can pretty much name your price.”

 

Eventually, we decided to get back to the A/C and set about retracing our steps to the tender spot. The “highway” we had crossed was a divided one; maybe three lanes on each side which our logical minds told us meant three lanes “each direction.” Once we cleared the trough without incident and started looking left and right, it became apparent that traffic was actually moving in each direction, on each side of the divider. This upped the difficulty level quite a bit, as did the several glasses of wine and electrolyte loss. Still, I thought we were doing OK when a frenzied local came running up, grabbed our elbows and insisted on getting these two old ladies across the street safely. Not at all unwelcome, but a bit of a bruise to the ego.

 

Once safely on the other side of the road, we realized how far we’d actually walked and took the offer of a motorcycle taxi back to the tender area. A buck a piece plus tip was well worth the price.

 

Back on the ship, we cleaned up and hit the Crow’s for Happy Hour. Ronaldo asked if we’d like peanuts and then instantly remembered that we preferred goldfish and ran to get us some. We didn’t see him for an hour. We’re pretty sure he took a tender to the Costco on the island.

 

We’d forgotten all about the movie title that was eluding us until we were through with dinner and back in the room for the night. Now it was driving us crazy again. What made it so bad was that we’d both seen it numerous times and loved it. We knew it starred Ruth Gordon and Bud Cort. I’d recently re-watched it on Netflix and the Evil Twin was actually working for the production company at the time the movie was made and was tasked with taking Bud Cort to lunch, which she did, at his request, by picking up sandwiches that were eaten in Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. We vowed to hit the library in the morning and look it up before it drove us completely crazy.

 

Day 5 – Sea Day. We slept past 11:00 and then wandered the ship now that the shops were finally open. We didn’t actually find anything to buy, other than a few t-shirts as souvenirs but at least it was something to do. Eventually we wandered down to the excursions desk where we inquired about getting to the airport on the way home. We knew we’d be kicked off the ship before 9:00 am and had a 4:45 pm flight from Miami so we looked at the transfers available.

 

Normally, I don’t pay much attention to these kinds of details, being more than happy to leave the decisions to Her Evilness. But my ears pricked up when I heard the words, “Everglades” and “crocodiles.” The crocodiles were fine and I’d be happy to pet one in a temperature-controlled environment but something about the two words in combo had me wondering what my insurance policy would cover in case of heatstroke. Because, let’s face it, “I love humidity,” said no one ever.

 

Still, Sis was determined and signed us up. I vowed to spend the next several days reminding her that we would need to board an airplane – with other people – later that day.

 

We wandered about a bit more and ended up at the Terrace for some tacos and then bought a 3-bottle Navigator package for the room before watching one of the most beautiful sunsets we’d ever seen from the balcony.

 

Our after dinner preference is usually the Piano Bar (only when we’re lucky enough to get a great piano guy) or the Crow’s Nest. As I mentioned, on this trip, neither of those were working – one because it was too popular and one because it was DOA. Nightclubs are definitely not our thing and so even though Happy Hour is usually something we set alarms for, the 10:00 to 11:00 rotation in the Northern Lights had not yet called to us. But, since Sis is not a big gambler and I was losing my shirt, we decided to swing by and see what they had to offer.

 

It turned out that the bar was not inside the noisy disco at all but rather in a smaller room on the outskirts and it had two things going for it. One, the barstools were not designed for Dutch people so we could actually get into them without needing a boost from a crew member and two, the place was virtually deserted so we could chat with the bartender and generally wind down before heading off to bed.

 

We may have found it late in the trip but it was to become a nice venue to end the rest of our nights on board.

 

Day 6 – Bonaire. This was the port we’d been waiting for. In the days before we started out, we texted and emailed back and forth with Solange and she insisted she would cook us lunch at her home. As she said, “the best food on the island comes from my kitchen and the best views of Bonaire are from my deck.” We didn’t want to put her out but she is not a woman to cross! We were still waitlisted for the morning tour but nothing had come through. We decided to be persistent and hung out on the pier and, luckily, they had a couple of no-shows and we grabbed the last two seats. We saw iguanas, parrots, donkeys, goats and, of course, the famous flamingos.

 

The pink lake was one of the most beautiful things we’d ever seen and I thought I might have to physically restrain the Evil One from running off the bus to gather up as much of those salt hills as she could carry in her purse.

 

Once back at the pier, we had an hour before meeting Solange and so we ducked into a café for a beer and wifi. At this point it was clear that we were simply not destined to connect. We’d have been better off with a couple of tin cans and string (and that’s the back of the T-shirt.)

 

We wandered until we found the pier-side booth for the Bonaire Animal Shelter where we were meeting our friend and found her waiting for us. (it’s a really terrific cause BTW -- http://www.animalshelterbonaire.com/)

 

From there she whisked us off to what must be the most gorgeous home on the island. As it turned out, our morning tour actually covered most of the highlights and so we were able to spend the time catching up and laughing. We enjoyed a marvelous afternoon with, as promised, the best food and the best views on the island. I can confidently say that there are no longer quotation marks around the word friend.

 

We returned to the ship in time for Happy Hour and Gil solved the mystery of why the Crow’s was so dead in the evenings. Apparently, about 25 rooms were added to the Observation Deck on one of the last re-fits and so the Crow’s was basically taken off of the roster of nighttime destinations. Seems like a bad decision to me but I imagine Seattle did the math.

 

Day 7 – Curacao. Satan called, he wants his weather back. This was probably the most touristy and well-known of the stops we’d be making and the one with the most obvious Dutch influence. And we had a mission – Solange’s brother owns Don’s Ice Cream, right off the cruise port in the Riffort. We were bound and determined to at least accomplish that much.

 

But not right away. I was melting and detoured the Twin to a nice place across the road called the Gouverneur where we once again tried to gain Internet access and then basically decided to unplug, buy a mule and cart, invest in an abacus and acclimate ourselves to the fact that we don’t actually know Benedict Cumberbatch and really have no right to see new pictures of him every day. (It’s an obsession but a harmless one; and in any case I prefer a pleasant vice to an annoying virtue any day.) It will be hard but I’m sure there are support groups.

 

I know Her Evilness desperately wanted to walk the pedestrian bridge to the other side of the river but all I could see was a great expanse of NO SHADE. I’m sorry to say (no, really sorry, for me!) that I now owe her one. (Soon to be two)

 

After two bottles of fortification, we set off to find Don’s Ice Cream. This was a mission we had sworn to uphold. It wasn’t terribly far but when we got here, we found that Don wasn’t in attendance. Bummer. Still, we had some wonderful ice cream and left him a note letting him know that his sister’s crazy American friends had dropped by.

 

We were sitting outside the shop enjoying our ice cream when something brushed up against the Evil One’s leg, causing her to jerk alarmingly. She looked down and exclaimed, “Oh my God, I kicked a penguin!” I was pretty sure she’d now be on Al Gore’s watch list as well but upon further investigation, it proved to be a pigeon and it seemed no worse for wear.

 

Back on the ship we joined our friends in the Crow’s for Happy Hour before eventually dressing for dinner and hitting the Northern Lights for Happy Hour Mach II. Pretty happy, all things considered and we toddled off to bed when our Check Liver lights came on.

 

Day 8 – Aruba. We’d been before and taken a tour but this time were just going to go off on our own for a bit. We found a cute trolley at the pier and jumped on with no idea what it cost or whether it was an organized tour or local transportation. It didn’t really matter; we just wanted the thing to start moving so we’d have a breeze.

 

Turns out it was a free hop-on, hop-off kind of thing and we took it a few stops to the local shopping street. We wandered a bit and eventually ended up a cute little restaurant called De Suikertuin which I think means Sugar Garden. It has an adorable patio out back which seems to be a crowd pleaser with the local exotic bird population (no penguins, alas) and a couple of cozy inside rooms. We opted for inside and the hostess seemingly took one look at us and set the A/C to stun.

 

At every port so far, we had phone service but no internet. This time it was the opposite and so we drank our wine and checked emails and reacquainted ourselves with The Cumberbatch. (I know the A/C is cranking but is it getting warm in here?)

 

This would have been a perfect time to look up the movie title that was eluding us with such determination but I think I read once that alcohol causes forgetfulness. I don’t remember for sure.

 

The walk back to the pier was a bit difficult as, one; we had no idea where we were going and; two, we always seemed to be on the sunny side of the street. We were very happy about those iced towels when we finally made it.

 

There was a ship at the pier that we were curious about. Much bigger than a yacht but smaller than a cruise ship, it seemed to scream, “I have a story.” Sis went into the Visitor’s Center while I stayed outside to have a cigarette (boo, hiss, smokers!) and I got a closer look. The name on the side was Freewinds, which sounded familiar but it wasn’t until I saw another designation – Sea Organization – that I realized it was the Scientology ship. I had read that it was a frequent visitor to those islands but it still seemed strange to see it up close, as if Tom Cruise was going to start jumping up and down on a couch right there at the pier.

 

Back on board, we made it to the Terrace for tacos. While we were looking for a place to sit, Rodolfo from the Piano Bar spied us and offered us wine. We didn’t want to hurt his feelings so we said yes. We wandered into the inside part of the Lido and he vowed to find us, which he did, setting up a bucket for our bottle.

 

I cannot count the number of heads that turned to stare as people passed by our table. Apparently wine in the Lido is an unusual occurrence? We kept expecting someone to actually fall down in indignation or shock. In any case, we enjoyed it but it did make us late for Happy Hour in the Crow’s. We actually had to sit at a table until folks peeled away from the bar. And I thought Gil loved us enough to save our seats!

 

Day 9 – Sea Day. I’d spent days trying to convince Her Evilness that an airboat tour through the swamps sounded like as much fun as drinking a glass of hot sand and she finally relented. The other two options for our long wait between disembarkation and our flight were a trip to the mall and a bus/boat tour of FLL. I like shopping almost as much as I like heat so we opted for the second one. Now I owed her a crocodile. Small price to pay, in my opinion.

 

The second wine tasting was held in the Pinnacle and was a lot of fun, if not terribly interactive. It looked like they’d planned for 40 peeps and only about 15 attended. Since they’d poured out the full set of samples, Sis and I enthusiastically volunteered for clean-up duty but they turned us down.

 

The rest of the day went like this -- Happy Hour I, dressing for formal night, dinner, Happy Hour II, and bed. And of course, the reemergence of the puzzle that had plagued us since the start of the trip – what on earth is that movie called? We knew it was directed by Hal Ashby and the score was by Cat Stevens. We were trading dialogue; hell, we could have acted it out but the title was still stubbornly refusing to reveal itself.

 

Day 10 – Sea Day but We’re Kicking You Off Tomorrow. Last day on board and we meant to make the most of it. We left the room, too late for breakfast, again, but managed to grab some tacos at the Terrace. The rest of the day was spent between Crow’s, Ocean, Casino, trying desperately to find something to buy in the shops (to no avail) Sea View (where I could grab a smoke – boo, hiss, smokers) and running back the room to halfheartedly begin packing. Are they really kicking us off?

 

The fish purse made a return as did my (working) clock purse. We were amused to see folks wandering in to the Crow’s and asking, “Is this the Ocean Bar?” and “What floor is the library on?” Seriously? After 10 days?

 

Happy Hour happened and we passed along extra thank yous to our hardworking bar staff. Interesting note – Ronel, the shy one, completely opened up with a series of borderline risqué jokes that had the bar in hysterics. Not so much because they were that funny, but because they weren’t expected from him. It was a welcome and wonderful surprise for our last night on board.

 

After leaving gifts for stewards Iwan and Achmad, we headed out for our last night in the MDR. Yahya, Hunan and Edgar were front and center, as always, and we showed our appreciation and had a marvelous last night in the MDR.

 

What made it even better, as we were walking out, we passed Adi, who had a full platter of plates, etc. on his shoulder; he immediately put it down on the nearest flat surface and hugged us for all he was worth. A beautiful end to a terrific cruise.

 

Day 11 – Travel. But it wasn’t over yet. By 8:15 we were off the ship and waiting in the long lines for customs and immigration. Again, why is patience a virtue? Why can’t “hurry the hell up” be a virtue? Eventually we cleared the lines and boarded a bus for an hour and a half tour of Fort Lauderdale that we’ve already done but it was either this or crocodiles and heat. After that portion of the tour we were loaded onto a somewhat shabby paddle wheeler for a boat ride around the canals and views of the super-yachts. Moments before the boat was to sail, the skies opened up and even though the crew scrambled to pull down the opaque plastic windows, the rest of the tour was spent up to our ankles in very cold water with views of absolutely nothing at all.

 

Then we were back on the bus to return to the ship to drop off the peeps who were continuing on for another 10 days before hitting the airports for drop off. The tour guide realized that we were the only two on his bus who needed to go to Miami rather than FLL so he kicked us off the bus and threw us on another one. Our new tour guide, who had a voice that could melt steel, talked throughout the five different stops at all the FLL terminals before announcing she was getting off and the driver would take the remaining six peeps to MIA.

 

Apparently, the driver realized that with his boss off the bus, he didn’t need to do any of that “stop at every terminal” nonsense so we were unceremoniously dumped at the far end of one of the largest airports in the world and needed to hoof it to the next county to find our gate. But eventually, we had checked in, braved security and sat down for our first adult beverage of the day. And for the first time, we had wifi AND remembered to look up the movie that had so preyed on our minds.

 

All in all, a pretty successful trip. We’d exercised our vices and loved every minute of it (well, only a couple of them are actually vices, the rest can be considered job skills.) And as Maude said to Harold, “vice, virtue -- it's best not to be too moral. You cheat yourself out of too much life.” Well, no one’s ever called us cheaters!

Wonderfully amusing and imaginative review of your vacation experience; thanks for taking the time to produce something so original and entertaining.

:D we love reading about your cruise's! :D

Your reviews are always the best. Please cruise more because I can always use some chuckles!

Great review as always, thanks for posting.

Wow, thanks for a delightful view of a normally simple cruise. And we miss Adi too. Hope he is again on one of our future cruises.

Hurrah!! What a wonderful episode in what must be a charmed life, as seen through your wonderfully whimsy eyes! :D:cool: What is the title of the movie??? :confused:

Edited February 15, 2015 by 0bnxshs

Thank you for your wonderful review.

Thank you for a delightful interlude on a bitter cold Sunday afternoon. As I was reading, I felt as if I was on the cruise with you.

Wonderful! Great to read you again.:D

Thanks for a great review

Missed you two! Great review as usual.

Hilarious! Thank you so much.

Seriously laugh out loud funny! I love reading about your adventures and as others have said wish you and the evil twin would cruise more.

Hurrah!! What a wonderful episode in what must be a charmed life, as seen through your wonderfully whimsy eyes! :D:cool: What is the title of the movie??? :confused:

 

Harold and Maude. :D

What a riot .

I was literally laughing out loud.

Great travelogue

You should write a book

Helaine

Just what I needed on a wintery, blizzard afternoon.

 

Thanks for putting a smile on face.

 

And a great review, of course;) I have no doubt at all as to it's accuracy:p:D

Your writing is exceptional and a pleasure to read!

 

Would you mind booking another cruise soon??

Hysterically funny, again. It would be a real kick to be on a cruise with you. Thanks for letting me land-cruise with you.

Thanks for the story ..

Great story. I would like to use some of your one liners, but I'll probably forget.

I am another fan of your entertaining reviews. Thanks for posting.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for your review. I laughed and laughed. Sitting here in snowy, cold Massachusetts up to my ear balls in snow and recovering from foot surgery, your hysterical review was the perfect medicine. I would love to cruise with you and your sister!!!!

Sandy

As always, one of the most enjoyable reviews I have read. Please, do, cruise again soon---I love to read of your adventures.

Fabulously funny trip review! And the movie.... I am usually reduced to initials, with SIL finishing things up. At first I thought Ruth and... But then you said Ruth Gordon was in it. So I thought Margaret (those initials again!), but on my way to the toaster oven to get a piece of pizza, it came to me! I really wanted to remember before I got to the end of your thread, and I did! :)