Nautica Impressions HKG to ATH

[Marebear]

Another lurker here - I have thoroughly enjoyed all of your posts of your cruise - a real treat for me - you have made me feel as if I were along for the ride! Thank you!

[magicnelly]

I will glady buy 10 copies of the first book you write! The subject doesn't even matter.

 

The ability to bring words to life on paper is rare....you definately have it. Cherish it, use it, enjoy it!

[Toranut97]

...when the cruise ends! I have felt like I am traveling vicariously with you all on this trip! Jack, you are indeed gifted, and I can understand why many on ship are enjoying your account also. Reading about your feelings --knowing that the cruise will end soon...the bittersweet feeling that it will be sad to leave, but good to go home ... (someone needs to coin a new phrase for it! "Pre-disembarkation tristesse?") made me remember the exact sentiment on my previous vacation journeys.

 

You and Ty remain in my prayers, and when the cruise ends I sure hope you will let the gang here know how you both are doing. And when you are traveling again!

 

Donna

[scdreamer]

Thank you once again, Jack, for another entertaining and informative post. You have more than whetted our appetites for our first Oceania cruise this coming fall. I'm looking forward to your next impressions, and like many others, wish to send on best wishes for Ty's test outcome.

 

Leslie & Wayne

[Decebal]

Hi Jack..... Egypt....sigh.....oh how I love reading about your travels. Egypt....sigh.... the pyramids, Luxor.... sigh......

 

Thanks for keeping us updated on the cabanas..... Petra.... sigh..... Aqaba...... alright! end of another workweek.......:D vacation on Nautica....siiiiiiiiighhhhhhhhhh......

[lahore]

Hi Jack; I think it goes without saying that we are all continuing to enjoy your superb postings. A thousand thanks.

 

Don't get stressed about not finding time to write about the upcoming ports - we don't want you to get stressed about anything. Maybe later, when you have got home and to a hopefully fit and well Ty, you can tell us about the Egyptian Ports.

 

When and if you do get time, I will be absolutely fascinated to learn about the convoy and how effective....noxious (that's a continuum I can imagine) it is. When we do the same cruise we don't get Jordan, which is a bummer as it sounds more interesting than some of our ports - from the sounds of things they could drop Salalah and even Muscat in favour of Jordan for Petra. But then you never know, on our Panama cruise the stop that everyone seemed to like least - where there were no major 'sights' - was our favourite place. We just went to the market square and played with some kids and dagged around. So i shouldn't write off Salalah, it may be like that too.

 

Can't wait to hear about Egypt -but in your own time. Enjoy

[potterhill]

Jack, I have enjoyed reading about your cruise as has everyone else. Before reading your account, I wanted to do this cruise. Now, I have to do this cruise!

I can hardly wait until the last child is out of school in 3 years so we can be away for an extended length of time.

We did a TA last November because we really enjoy the sea days, and it was great. The first thing I do when I look at a cruise is count the sea days!

Sending you positive thoughts for Ty.

 

Mo

[meow!]

Looks like we have to find alternative reading material soon! Jack, wish you the best of luck when you return home. Please keep us posted for the rest of your story when you are free, and thank you for sharing with all of us the experience of your voyage.

[merryecho]

OK, this is to Mr FDR. We take quite a few cruises, and I think I am not alone in saying that a large part of the enjoyment is planning and expectation. One thing I find lacking on EVERY cruise line is an acknowledment of this. I would love to know more about the places we are going to visit, from someone who has been there. It seems to me that an inexpensive and tremendously effective marketing tool would be to add a feature to the O website with stories like Jacks (not that there are that many people who can write like Jack).

In other words, click on "visit the ports", and be able to read Jack's story about Viet Nam, Mumbai, etc. Instead of the usual dry brochure blah blah, it would be along the lines of the old Peterman catalog, which I think was hugely effective. You could even make it a contest- best port story wins an on-board credit.

Just my two cents.

[PennyAgain]

The magic continues. I read your posts in my office which is isolated from the world. You have given me the most remarkable adventure.

 

Blessings and safe travels to you and to Ty. You are an absolutely wonderful travel writer.

 

I do wish to keep reading your new writings in future.

[Emdee]

Jack, thanks again for another wonderful posting... like everyone on this board I second the thought of a Jack's journey on an Oceania website but I am sure you could serialize it for a travel magazine as well....

 

When we were in Luxor we flew in from Alexandria for the day and it was a spectacular day in 46 degrees celsius. I have a vivid memory of dropping ice cubes down my blouse in an attempt to cool off and the cubes just evaporated without a trace! Enjoy Luxor and the Valley of the Kings.

 

Eagerly await your next post.

 

Miriam

[JackfromWA]

LUXOR

 

As I tied my New Balance size twelve, hiking tennis shoes, I smiled. I knew it would be a good day. I bought the shoes a little over two years ago for an intensive fifteen-day trip to Inca ruins scattered throughout Peru. I wore them every day, and they safely carried me through Machu Picchu, Cuzco, Ollyantambo, Pisaq and other sites in the Sacred Valley. They worked so well, and everyday was so good, a year later I decided to take them on safari to Kenya. While wearing them I finally saw leopards close-up and witnessed my first Cheetah kill. I reserve wearing them for special occasions (basically when I need a guaranteed good day and walking is involved).

 

I briefly debated whether to bring them on this trip as there aren’t too many ports with hiking, and I already had four pair of shoes: a pair of dress shoes for dinner, Birkenstocks for relaxing, tennis shoes for the gym and a pair of very comfortable Mephisto loafers for airports and walking. Even though I wouldn’t wear them often, I quickly decided to put the shoes in my suitcase as I didn’t want to set foot in Egypt or Jordan without them. As crazy as it sounds, I have assigned them magical properties; I believe wearing them guarantees a good day. As it turns out I wore them in Thailand, India and to the orphanages in Vietnam, and like Cal Ripken, my shoes consistently brought me good days. I know that attributing good days to my choice of shoes is extremely superstitious, unreasonable and silly, but my Grandmother’s influence runs strong in me, and she was raised in the part of West Virginia where kids are sent to bed with a ghost story.

 

The stories my grandma told my brothers, sister and I were wonderful, believable, and often as not scary. She had a favorite recurring character, the Button Witch, who among other magical traits revealed her presence by stealing your buttons. Whenever I put on a white shirt to go to church on Sunday, and attempted to fasten the collar but discovered a missing button, I knew the trickster Button Witch had slipped into my room and stolen my button as another trophy for her collection. By ten or twelve years old I forgot about the Button Witch—when my buttons went missing it was just another case of bad sewing or bad luck. But in 1996—after my ninety-one year old Grandma’s stroke, which left half of her body permanently paralyzed, her once razor-sharp wit on a permanent holiday, her world reduced to a bad smelling room in a friendly nursing home in Chehalis, Washington, and before she died in 1998—my mother discovered thousands of buttons stored in canning jars in an alcove off grandma’s small, cold study. When we heard about it my brother and I immediately recalled the Button Witch, “It was Grandma all along,” Jeff excitedly exclaimed, “She was the Button Witch!” I loved my grandma so much. Throughout this trip I can’t help but think I wish my grandparents could have seen this, or I wish my dead Uncles could have seen that. The greatest gift I could give my mother, father or Ty, would be one more day with each of their dead mothers, but of course that is a gift no one can give.

 

Egypt is old. It raises feelings of mortality and meaning in life in me. It feels like civilization as we know it started here, yet to me the monuments and remnants of Egypt’s past feel so disconnected from our modern world. I look at the work of men and women performed thousands of years ago, and I wonder does it matter? Like the pharaoh’s I used to want to leave my footprints in the sands of time, but now I don’t care. Even the greatest pharaoh’s have all been upstaged in popularity in modern times by a relatively minor pharaoh named King Tut. I realized a few years ago that I only have to go back a few centuries and I can’t even name a single person who lived. The only person I can name from the 1400’s is Columbus, and for the 1300’s my best guess is King Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot and Galahad. Instead of leaving a mark on the world I want to leave a mark on the people I live with—my family, my friends and the strangers who briefly intersect their lives with mine. I don’t know if all you need is love, but I think it is true all you can give is love. The monuments of Egypt are a stark witness you can’t take it with you, so it seems wise to give love away; I believe it has a chance of lasting in one form or another, and I believe love is like rabbits, tribbles or fleas—it multiplies quickly when its passion is inflamed.

 

So despite knowing I fell prey to ignorant superstition, I happily pulled on my shoes, comfortable in the knowledge I would have a good day. Warmly thinking of my grandma, I got ready for my first day in Egypt. As I gazed out my stateroom window, at least an hour before my “alarm clock” of room-service breakfast woke me, my first view of Egypt was tall, brown, dusty hills, a few cinderblock construction buildings and docks rolling by as Nautica made her way to the Port of Safaga dock. It was too exciting to go back to sleep so I started my day at a leisurely pace.

 

With over four hundred passenger going overnight to Luxor the excursion staff had their logistics work cut out for them. A few days earlier we were divided into eleven different buses going to two different hotels. Everyone chose between the Nile Palace and the Sonesta—both are among the nicest hotels in Luxor. About twelve of us, most of my Trivia Team and a few other friends, requested the same bus and the same hotel, so when all eleven bus groups met simultaneously in an overcrowded Nautica lounge at 8 a.m. the group my mom, dad and I were assigned was filled with many familiar, friendly faces.

 

We were escorted off the ship by group number to board our bus, and since every bus traveled in a police convoy, it didn’t matter which group left first; we all were arriving in Luxor together. By the time our convoy pulled out from the dock, our tour guide had lectured us on how to say “no thank you” in Arabic, given her credentials—she had a letter from the US Ambassador to Egypt attesting to her skills, and she passed around pictures of her and Bill Clinton at the Pyramids—and a brief outline of our days schedule. Besides the tour buses five or six minivans filled with independent tour passengers also joined our convoy.

 

As we pulled away from Safaga and passed through police checkpoints young and old Egyptians smiled and waved. Almost everyone we passed made a friendly overture.

 

“I don’t think they see this many Americans too often,” my friend Carol said. It did seem like we attracted an inordinate amount of attention from the locals.

 

As the scenery passed by the bus window I noticed my first pyramid. Look dad, there’s a pyramid ruin, I almost said. But when I looked again, it was just a triangular shaped hill nestled between two mountains. As I kept looking around I noticed more pyramid shapes—even the traffic warning sign was shaped like a pyramid. Since I was clearly obsessed with Egypt and pyramids I decided to keep quiet about any future sightings until I was certain it was really a relic from Egypt’s past.

 

“This looks like the area outside Las Vegas,” Carol’s husband Bob said.

 

“Yeah, except in Vegas there are some red tones and color in the rock. Here it’s all one color. I sure see why no one wants to live out in this desert,” I replied. I also realized why researchers believe Egypt probably contains many more treasures to uncover—there could be tombs, statues, even a whole temple right in front of our very eyes and no one could tell.

 

Our guide announced over the bus PA system that water was for sale—$1 for two bottles of Aquafina—and that our bus was equipped with a “Temple-of-Relief,” which she claimed was a literal translation of the Egyptian word for bathroom.

 

“That’s one temple I hope I don’t have to worship in,” I told Bob and Carol. They both laughed and Carol assured me she had brought her own tissue paper in case she felt the call to worship. Later on, when toilet paper ran out on the bus I started referring to the bathroom as the Temple of Doom.

 

As we drove on the scenery remained the same—bleak, dry, hot and barren. The hills were interesting, but with no greenery, and no sign of life they weren’t inviting. In spite of the overworked air conditioner on the Mercedes forty-passenger bus, the windowpanes kept getting hotter. Some of the passenger closed their curtains to stay cool. I kept mine open, as I wanted to see what little scenery there was.

 

“Anybody want some chocolates?” I asked. I had hoarded about thirty Oceania chocolates left on my pillow every night, and intended to give them to some Egyptian kids. However, the chocolates proved popular, it was a little piece of Nautica, and people smiled when the zip-loc baggie made its way up and down the bus. When it finally returned to me most of the chocolates were gone.

 

Three hours later we cleared the last police check point and were in the suburbs surrounding Luxor. Many of the homes had primitive barns attached, filled with emaciated cows, old donkeys and horses trying to find relief from the heat. Despite their rundown appearance—indoor plumbing looked questionable in many cases—satellite dishes sprouted from many of the roofs. As we drew closer to Luxor, the Egyptians on the side of the highway grew even friendlier.

 

Since time was extremely limited we were driving directly to the Temple of Karnak, and after touring for two hours we were going to our hotel for a buffet lunch. Since our rooms wouldn’t be ready until late in the afternoon, after lunch we were scheduled to go to the Temple of Luxor and then return to the hotel about 4:30 p.m. to receive our room keys. After two hours free time we had dinner at 6:30 p.m and the light show back at the Temple of Karnak at 8:45 p.m. As the bus pulled into the parking lot I grew excited. The Temple of Karnak was now merely walking distance.

 

“The temperature outside is sixty-nine degrees,” our guide told us.

 

“That isn’t too hot,” my mom said.

 

“It’s got to be a mistake,” I replied.

 

“She said it is thirty-nine degrees Celsius,” the woman behind my mom told us. That made more sense, and sure enough when we walked off the bus it felt about 100 degrees. Living in Western Washington I don’t feel 100 degrees very often, so I am not real sure what it feels like, but it was extremely hot. Off in the distance I got my first view of the Temple of Karnak grounds. There was a long row of rams, or lions or sphinxes guarding either side of the entrance to the complex. Cameras were clicking left and right at our first Egyptian photo opportunity.

 

“Keep walking, follow me,” Eman our Egyptologist guide said as she briskly led us past the stone animal sentinels and toward the tall obelisk at the temple entrance. As we entered the first set of walls the age, majesty and intensity of Karnak began to reveal itself. Although I hate to admit it, the first I ever heard of Luxor was around twenty years ago when I watched the Dunes casino demolished in Las Vegas, and the new Treasure Island and Luxor casino opened. I took a “boat ride around the Nile” and saw the “tombs of the pharaoh” all within the air-conditioned comfort of a Nevada casino. The only danger was the slot machines and too much booze.

 

I always wanted to see the Giza Pyramids, but I didn’t have any interest in Luxor. My brother and his wife took a Nile river cruise and when I expressed my interest in the pyramids, with a slightly condescending tone he said, “The pyramids are interesting, but the most exciting attractions in Egypt are around Luxor. You can see the Temple of Karnak, Temple of Luxor, the tombs in the Valley of the Kings. It is a lot better than seeing the pyramids in Cairo.” His informed opinion not withstanding, I secretly always believed he exaggerated Luxor at the expense of Cairo. He didn’t.

 

Everywhere I turned the obelisks, statues, hieroglyphic wall carvings and pillars staggered me. I couldn’t believe all this survived so many thousands of years, and how the heck did anyone move this much stone, create this much art and design these, much less build these temples with all this heat?

 

“I can’t believe people worked this hard in all this heat,” I told Carol.

 

“Well I doubt they were lining up to volunteer to get on the team,” Carol replied with her slight southern accent. She had a point. Much of the work was done with forced labor.

 

As we entered the Great Hypostyle Hall my jaw dropped. I was speechless. Trying to capture this with a camera is like trying to capture the Grand Canyon and Niagara Falls with a camera. Every direction I looked carved stone columns, at least fifty feet tall and ten feet in diameter, were arranged in neat rows like perfectly placed fifty foot tall cribbage pieces. There must be over a hundred columns, each weighing incalculable tons. Every angle offered a different artistic perspective as the columns are evenly spaced and mostly of uniform height and diameter. The labor necessary to create this was unimaginable. I can think of only one reason to create a space like the Great Hypostyle Hall; to force a reaction of awe and wonder. The pharaoh’s succeeded. It is impossible not to be affected by the sight of standing here, peering at the columns, hieroglyphic’s, statues and walls. Anyone who enters the hall will never forget the sight of the stone columns, silently standing as a reminder of the temple’s antiquity, and acting as mute witness to our ephemeral existence.

 

Past the hall there were more obelisks, more statues, and unfortunately more heat. Later that day I learned the high in Luxor was 110 degrees. Though I wanted to see more and stay longer, the excursion staff wisely sent us back to the hotel to hydrate and eat. The lunch buffet was good, I didn’t eat much as I was limiting my food choices on shore—I don’t want to be sick this week, tomorrow is Petra and Thursday is Cairo¬—and after lunch we drove to the Luxor Temple.

 

Having just left Karnak, the Luxor Temple wasn’t as impressive as it would have been if I had seen it first. The site is fantastic, but it is right in the heart of town, from the interior boundary I could see a McDonald’s sign reading “Luxor: I’m Loving It”, and the temple was overwhelmed when all four hundred ship tourists descended simultaneously. I don’t know how to remedy the problem of traveling in such a large group short of traveling independently. Despite a great effort by the ship, and Cosmos, their ground tour operator, our tour group is such a behemoth that everywhere we go we crowd our surroundings.

 

After dinner my parents had to pick up our cartouches—little custom made gold or silver amulets with a name spelled out in hieroglyphics. Our guide told us we had to meet in the hotel lobby at 7:30 p.m. to pick up the cartouches we ordered on the bus. Since I was tired, my mom agreed to pick up the gold cartouche I ordered for Ty, when she picked up the silver one she ordered for her granddaughter. When she and my dad arrived in the lobby, Eman our tour guide informed my parents they had to pick them up at a jewelry store. She offered to take them, so they went on the bus with about twenty other members of our group, and when they arrived at the store, Eman explained the cartouches weren’t ready yet, they could get them later, but since you are here you should buy a nice gold chain and look around and shop.

 

My dad doesn’t get angry easily, but he detests being taken for a fool. He refused to buy anything and Eman let him leave the store and wait on the bus. After he and my mom left, several other disgruntled passengers left too. Despite the unhappy passengers wanting to return to the hotel, Eman kept the bus outside the store for an hour.

 

“She lied to us,” my dad angrily exclaimed. “I am not giving her a dime for a tip.” It was by far the most upset he has been the entire cruise. It is too bad that the economics of touring in Egypt force trusted guides to betray the trust they earn through excellent historical knowledge by preying on their tourists. To make a few bucks in commission our guide upset at least a third of the group that went to the store to get their cartouches. If the cartouches really weren’t ready, she should have arranged for the customers who wanted to leave to go back to the hotel. It was a scam and cost my mom and dad over an hour of their precious time in Egypt. The worst part of all is we knowingly overpaid for the cartouches so we wouldn’t have to deal with any hassles. My parents weren’t alone though. I overheard one passenger today exclaim, “We were in their store until 2:30 a.m., we didn’t get any sleep and they wouldn’t let us leave unless we bought a carpet.” The wonders of Egypt are the world’s oldest manmade continuous tourist attraction, so the locals have generations of experience separating the marks from their money. They do a good job of it, and while I admire their technical expertise, I dislike them wasting our limited time to make a quick buck.

 

My dad calmed down and we left for the night show at the Temple of Karnak. If it is possible the grounds are even more impressive in the glow of carefully controlled lights. The moon was half full and between the light of the moon and the lights of the show, Karnak was awe-inspiring in its majestic glory. During the first half of the show we walked through the same grounds we walked through earlier, but with cooler temperatures it was more comfortable and with different lighting it was much more mysterious. The second half of the show we sat on stone bleacher overlooking the sacred lake while narrators gave a history of Egypt. I noticed lots of people falling asleep. It had been a long, hot day and the sonorous amplified voices and lackluster staging didn’t create much excitement after their initial appearance.

 

At eight the next morning we went straight to the Valley of the Kings. Our first stop was the tomb of Ramses VI. It was eerie walking through the long stone tunnel toward the sarcophagus thinking about the Egyptian priests who walked this path thousands of years ago. On both sides of the 12-foot wide passage the walls are carved with hieroglyphics.

 

“I can’t read them but I bet they say he was a great king, he took good care of his people, his family loved him and he deserves rich rewards in the afterlife,” I whispered to Bob.

 

“Don’t forget he was beloved by all his people,” Bob said as we both laughed.

 

The next tomb was Ramses III and it was longer and even more impressive. The colors painted on the tomb walls thousands of years ago are still visible and despite the fading and deterioration it is easy to imagine the pristine opulence of this tomb. From my perspective it seems wasteful to expend so many human resources to make one man’s tomb, but I am sure from a different, ancient Egyptian theological perspective it made sense. In all the tombs the walls were adorned with thousands of original hieroglyphic carvings. To walk through them alone, with a candle at night, would be my dream of how to experience the tombs.

 

On our way back to the hotel we stopped at the Memnon statues for a ten minute photo shoot, we stopped at Hapshetsut but didn’t have time to go in—inexplicably our guide offered us our paid tickets as souvenirs, it didn’t seem much of a souvenir to have a ticket for something I wanted to see but didn’t have time to tour, so I politely declined and told her she should sell them—and we arrived at our last stop, Medinet Habu. Although I had never heard of the Habu temple before, I enjoyed this stop as much as Karnak.

 

The grounds are almost as large as Karnak, and the statues, carvings, and immensely tall exterior walls instantly took me breath away. Of all our stops, this was the one where I wanted to find a quiet spot to reflect on the mystery of the ancient Egyptians. There wasn’t time, and quiet reflection isn’t part of the tour, so I reluctantly left with the group after making a mental note to come back here when I can and devote at least a day to experiencing the mystery of Medinet Habu.

 

“Does anyone know how many children Ramses II had?” Eman asked over the bus PA system. She liked to give us quizzes and rewards correct answers with ink pens shaped like King Tut.

 

“Seventy?” someone shouted. “Fifty?” another woman guessed.

 

“No, Ramses had over two hundred children and uncounted wives. He even married three of his own daughters,” Eman lectured across the bus. The announcement of Ramses marrying his kids was greeted with groans of disgust.

 

“You know what Jack,” Bob said.

 

“No, what.”

 

“That must be the reason they named those condoms Ramses,” Bob said. Once again we both started laughing. Bob’s wife Carol told us to quit cutting up, and a prim passenger sitting across the aisle overheard his comment and my response and gave both of us the same withering glare you get for swearing in front of small children.

 

Soon enough we were back at the hotel, we checked out, ate lunch, formed our convoy and started the drive back to Port Safaga. Our guide let us sleep for a few hours and then started lecturing on the religions of Egypt. I put in my ipod and James Taylor sang, “The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.” Another successful random selection by my ipod, I thought. As we approached Safaga we slowed down and saw there was a wreck ahead. As we drew closer I could tell it was serious. “It’s a tourist bus,” someone gasped. As we looked in horror a bus just like ours was on its side, windows broken, blocking a lane of the highway. As we slowly drove past I saw the stunned driver sitting in the hot sand staring forlornly across the desert. Fortunately the crashed bus was headed back to Luxor and had no passengers aboard. With a new sense of gratitude, we quietly drove on. Soon the most bountiful oasis in Egypt, Nautica, appeared on the horizon, and we made our way through the town and to the dock. The Silver Cloud was berthed next to Nautica, and I was happy to see the familiar Silverseas logo. I hoped her passengers were having as good a time as our passengers.

 

We got off the bus, the Nautica band was playing, and waiters passed out cool towels along with glasses of apple juice and water. A red carpet was rolled from the dock to the gangplank and a banner proclaiming “Welcome Home” was strung across the first stair. Twenty or thirty ships officers, headwaiters, chefs and butlers enthusiastically welcomed us home. It was good to be back and even though today was bittersweet since it is the last Sunday of our cruise, it was good to be back.

 

Tonight was rushed. I ate dinner with my parents and some friends at Polo and then stayed up too late to finish this, before today’s memories begin to fade and blend into tomorrow’s adventures. Before crawling in bed I laid out tomorrow’s clothes: my shirt, pants, underwear, socks and of course, my New Balance hiking shoes. Tomorrow I am going to Petra and after all, I want another great day.

[Aussie Gal]

Jack,

 

What a wonderful episode. I think it is the best so far. I loved the story of your Grandmother and the buttons. She must have been a wonderful lady.

 

Your description of Luxor and the temples has whetted my appetite and I cannot wait until this time next year when it will be our turn.

 

Thanks for spending half the night writing this. It was well worth it.

 

Jennie

[meow!]

To tour in that part of the world, you need both physical strength and resilience. The heat, the long walk, the anxiety and need of security with armed escort is something to be considered. If a person is weak of heart (either physical or emotional), he/she should not attempt such a journey. For the fit and the brave, seeing such strange lands may be really exciting, as for the rest, we can envisage it by reading this journal!

[Aussie Gal]

To tour in that part of the world, you need both physical strength and resilience. The heat, the long walk, the anxiety and need of security with armed escort is something to be considered. If a person is weak of heart (either physical or emotional), he/she should not attempt such a journey. For the fit and the brave, seeing such strange lands may be really exciting, as for the rest, we can envisage it by reading this journal!

 

As we have both physical strength, resilience, are used to heat and are capable of walking long distances I can see no reason why we cannot do this wonderful cruise which we have booked for next year. We intend to also visit Ankor Wat, the Taj Mahal, Luxor, Petra and the Pyramids along the way.

 

We have travelled this world extensively and this is going to be another wonderful adventure for us. You only live once!

 

Jennie

[Emdee]

Jack, after reading your last episode I just had to get out my own pictures and relive my time in Egypt. I am also resolved to do this itinerary -- it will have to wait as neither of us will be able to take off for 35 plus days for a few years but I have put it "on my list".

 

I am equally sad that your cruise is coming to an end. Shall miss the wonderful long reads of your travels. Today I am reading this at 5 a.m..

 

Take Care

 

Miriam

[lahore]

Hi Jack, your fan club is still out here. Was so interested to read about the convoy, the rip off, the little things that happened along the way - they are what makes your writing more entertaining than the average travelogue to me - it's why it's real. Hope Petra is fun too, without any big hassles.

[wildduck]

Thankyou Jack for sharing all your wonderful adventures of Asia on Nautica. I began reading them only one week ago as I searched for information about the Hong Kong to Athens cruise as we have booked to do the same cruise next April 2008. Now I can hardly wait. Last May we sailed on Nautica (Deck 4) from Istanbul to Athens through the Greek islands, it is certainly a special ship. I remember seeing her for the first time from the terrace of our hotel in Istanbul sailing up the Bosporus river gleaming white in the gray of the overcast morning.

Thankyou for your information reguarding the trips to Agra to the Taj Mahal and also to Luxor this will be very helpful in our planning.

We are keeping your journal of your trip to read many times while we wait until it is our turn. We know it will be an amazing journey as your have experienced. Once again thankyou and I wish you safe return home.

[aneka]

Hi Jack,

Thanks for a wonderful installment on your fabulous adventure. I would love to do this trip in the future and plan to print out your postings and save them. I would love to see some pictures from your trip. Have you thought about posting your pictures and a link so that we might enjoy them also? Thanks again for spending your time on your cruise to enlighten us all on this great itinerary.

Annette

[PennyAgain]

Jack, thanks so much. Just wonderful!

 

I am looking forward to reading about Petra as it is one of those places I doubt I will see on my own.

[CruisingSerenity]

Jack....in the beginning, you made me laugh. Boy did you make me laugh. Your last three entries have also been entertaining and I've laughed but you also made my eyes well up.

 

Don't ever doubt your ability to write. Wow. Someone else said you are gifted. You truly are.

 

You hoped you have made a connection with all of us, your faithful readers...you have. You make us feel many things and that, Jack, is a fantastic talent.

 

I'd also like to thank you for your words of wisdom on this last post...I won't get in to it here but you have said some things that have put in to words something I've been trying to figure out for a few years. Without you even knowing it, you just made a big difference in someone else's life.

 

Hey, maybe you can start a blog when you're done with the trip!

[JackfromWA]

A FEW RESPONSES

 

Marebear, thank you for coming out of the shadows and posting. I love hearing from fellow cruisers.

 

Magicnelly, if I am ever fortunate enough and talented enough to write something worth selling I will e-mail you and get you a free copy! Thanks for the encouraging words and sage advice.

 

Toranut97, thank for the prayers and positive thoughts for Ty—his biopsy is Wednesday and so keep the good energy flowing. Thanks for your compliments.

 

SCDreamer, thanks for the well wishes for Ty and I and enjoy your first Oceania cruise. Cruise critic is a great, maybe the best place to get “real” information before your vacation.

 

Decepar, wish you were here… sigh.

 

Lahore, I surprised myself and find time to write while not losing joy in my vacation. But I appreciate your encouragement to postpone if necessary and enjoy this unique and wonderful experience. I am sure you read about the convoy in the Luxor post by now.

 

Potterhill, thanks for the kind words and optimism for Ty. Put this trip on your list. Since you like sea days, as I do, you will love the balance on this itinerary.

 

Pennyagain, thanks for calling my writing magic—what a humbling compliment!

 

Emdee, I know what you mean about the heat! Luxor was awe-inspiring but soooo hot! Glad I motivated you to look at your photos, and if a writer ever received a greater compliment than being read at 5 a.m. I don’t know what it could be!

 

Wildduck, don’t you love Deck Four? After an excursion I am in the cabin in less than a minute. I would gladly trade it for a veranda, but the location is ideal.

 

Aneka, I might do some photos when I get home. Even though FDR graciously gave me free internet, I am still using the 1,200-minute package I purchased and uploading photos is expensive. Besides that, between my parents and I we have over 1,500 pictures (most of which aren’t of interest to anyone but us—some we don’t even want to look at) and they haven’t been sorted yet. I’ll hope to post something with a photo link within a few weeks of getting home.

 

Aussie Gal, Meow, MerryEcho, Lahor, I think you are among my biggest supporters. Thank you so much for everything you have written to bridge the distance between us. Your encouragement, contributions, well-wishes for Ty and compliments mean the world to me.

 

PETRA & WADI RUM

 

Desert sky, dream beneath the desert sky

Rivers run but soon run dry, we need new dreams tonight

-- In God’s Country, U2

 

After two days in the forsaken desert and brutal heat surrounding Luxor, the living desert and mild heat surrounding Aqaba were a breath of fresh air. When we disembarked Nautica the temperature was at least 20 degrees cooler than yesterday in Luxor. I overheard several passengers happily say, “This is like touring in air conditioning!”

 

Aqaba occupies a unique geographic location. From the city I could gaze across the water and see Egypt, and look north and see Israel. Despite the proximity to Israel, guests were requested not to spend the day there due to the thorny issue of passport stamps from Israel when entering Arabic countries. It didn’t bother me, as my day was full with visiting the city of Petra and the desert of Wadi Rum. About 300 guests were taking the Petra and Wadi Rum tour and I guess at least another 300 guests—basically most of the rest of the ship—were seeing either Petra or Wadi Rum on a ship tour, or made private touring arrangements to visit one or both. Going to Jordan without seeing Petra is like going to Paris without seeing the Eiffel Tower, London without seeing Big Ben and the House of Parliament reflected off the Thames, or going to Kenya without watching a herd of zebras grazing on the savannah.

 

I had initially made private touring arrangements at a substantial savings (cost for Petra and Wadi Rum from the private operator was about $250 per person and cost from Oceania was $399), but five things changed my mind: I didn’t have any information on the reliability of the company I found on the internet offering my private tour, Nautica’s Wadi Rum tour included a private dinner with Bedouins under tents in the desert night sky, Oceania’s tour lasted from 8 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. and the ship docked at 8 a.m. and left at 11:00 p.m. so by going with the ship I could spend every minute possible on tour, my parents and I have grown comfortable with some of our fellow passengers and by taking the ship tour we enjoyed the pleasant company of ten of the fourteen people we had traveled to Luxor with and I learned that Oceania’s ground operations were conducted by the venerable and reliable luxury tour operator Abercrombie & Kent. I have never taken a land tour with A&K but I didn’t want to lose the opportunity to see how they performed, even though I knew a group of our size wasn’t the best indicator of their talents.

 

Cinthya, Nautica’s excursion manager, has earned my trust. She freely shared advice and recommendations on ports where I didn’t purchase excursions from her—in fact in one case, Salalah, she validated my decision to go on my own, but she encouraged my parents and I to take the Petra and Wadi Rum tour. “It is our most popular tour Jack,” she enthusiastically said in her slight Brazilian accent, “you simply must try it.” I knew she had my best interests at heart and her persuasion was meant to enhance our experience, not to simply sell more Oceania tickets. So once again we find ourselves at 8 a.m. in the over-crowded Nautica lounge—the heat, stimulation and exertion from the past two days in Luxor still fresh in my body and mind. It didn’t matter. I had two days at sea to recover from Petra, I might never get here again, and I had swallowed an Aleve to preempt any aches and pains along with my doctor recommended daily baby aspirin before leaving the ship.

 

I had gathered twelve tickets so our little group of Team Trivia players and fellow Egypt travelers could be assigned the same bus. My friends Kirk and Tony showed up at the last minute and I grabbed their tickets as well.

 

“Jack can you also get Frank and Becky’s tickets?” Kirk asked. I realized Frank aka Lumpy was standing right behind him. Frank is a smoker and so is Kirk. Since smoking areas are extremely limited on Nautica—I think there are only two, one under cover outside on the pool deck, and one in a small section of Horizons lounge—every smoker on board has spent time smoking with every other smoker on board. There are too many days together and too many cigarettes to smoke to avoid each other. Consequently, a natural smokers fraternity developed. I envied the smokers their esprit de corp. On the first week of this trip I noticed the smokers had formed a bond, and even though I quit smoking almost twenty years ago, I still relate to smokers; I would smoke if I could—I just don’t need the health problems. So when Kirk asked me to get Frank’s tickets I replied, “Sure Kirk, I’ll get them.”

 

For those readers who have read through the entire trip you know my perceptions about Frank are mixed. He was rude to my mom, he is loud, boisterous and very competitive, but he also loves Gandhi, I have watched him physically help fellow passengers, and he is married to a very friendly, kind, attractive woman. Although it was ironic I would spend the tour day on the bus with Lumpy, it was simply how the day unfolded. After a full day my impressions are Becky is beautiful, warm and friendly, and Frank has a cantankerous, sometimes rude persona, but inside I intuitively think he has a heart of gold. The real villain of my story isn’t Lumpy—it is the few “too good for the rest of the ship” passengers who isolate and complain about the nerve of someone wearing dress sandals to lunch in the dining room, or the few passengers who berate, bully and ridicule the defenseless waiters, maids, front desk staff and other workers who risk losing their jobs if they fight back. I haven’t seen Frank do any of those things. Fortunately I haven’t seen much of that behavior from anyone this cruise, but I have seen just enough, and overheard just enough to know that it goes on.

 

When we walked off the gangplank toward our buses the A&K representatives gave each woman a rose. The buses were much nicer than the buses in Egypt. Our bus was only a little over half full and the mood aboard was jubilant and excited—like kids Christmas morning, wondering what gifts would be in their hands by the end of the day. Just like in school, the smokers, along with those of us who have problems with authority figures and wish to escape the eye of the bus driver, sat toward the back of the bus. Instead of boxed lunches we carry expensive digital cameras, and instead of candy we carry our prescriptions, Aleve and Imodium. With a few other exceptions (as a group we are definitely more conditioned to having our own way and being treated subserviently than any bus of high school students), in most ways the social atmosphere on our bus wasn’t much different than a long ago high school field trip. My mom turned around from her seat in front of me (she and my dad had come toward the back of the bus to stay near me but remained one row in front) and said, “You can tell this is a much more upscale operation than the company in Luxor.”

 

As we drove off our guide, who spoke impeccable English, described the history, economy, religions and social structure of Jordan as part of a well-organized lecture throughout most of the two and a half hour drive. Outside the window I saw someone had painted Raed & Koeled on a cinder brick wall; love graffiti is universal. As we left Aqaba he mentioned the blatant flagpole—it is the second largest in the world, the tallest is three feet higher and is at the Jordanian palace several hundred miles north—it towers over the entire city measuring about 325 feet tall. The flag, which was flapping in the cool, light breeze measures about 180 feet by 120 feet, and is visible for miles. The residents of nearby Israel and Egypt are forced to view Jordan’s gargantuan, imposing flag waving daily over their homeland skyline. This greatly amused me; I admired the King of Jordan for putting it up and hoped the King was amused by it too.

 

Unlike Egypt the desert between Aqaba and Petra is full of life. Petra is 5,000 feet above sea level, so as we traveled we climbed a windy road and saw small tufts of grass, purple desert flowers, camels and sheep dotted across the desert landscape. “Petra is the petrol of Jordan,” our guide informed us over the bus PA. “Tourism is the most important and growing sector of the Jordanian economy and we are very glad to have this brief opportunity to show you our beautiful country.” He carefully outlined where to use restrooms before entering Petra, where we would have lunch, what to expect when we reached the Treasury, and what to do if we got separated or chose to leave the group.

 

We got off our bus, used the bathrooms at the Petra visitor’s center (the next bathroom is near the bottom of the 2 mile hike down) and made our way to see the ancient stone facades, dwelling and carvings of this mythical city. As we walked, our guide talked about Moses’ brother Aaron, and told us much of this regions history was contained in early chapters of the Old Testament. I had never though of the Bible as a history book, it always seemed to me the Bible was a somewhat boring, not very engaging to read, guide of how to behave properly to get to heaven, but for the first time I saw how in this culture the Bible was a historical record of their ancestors. Moses and Aaron were Jordan’s George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, and their stories are found in the Bible. If kids at home could come to Petra for Sunday school field trips, church would be a lot more popular, I thought, as our guide’s words brought the Old Testament alive in a new way to me.

 

We walked along a stone path that followed a gentle downward slope through colorful ravines carved by countless years of wind and water. The gorge was stunning as the sun draped across the rocks, boulders and stone surfaces, leaving others in cool shadows. Hundreds of shades of tans, reds, yellows and oranges graced the sun suffused stone surrounding us from either side of the narrow canyon, and reached as high as the wondrous fractured rock formations, some towering several hundred feet above our heads.

 

“I want you to close your eyes, form a single line, and grab the back of the shirt of the person in front of you,” our guide instructed. We stumbled on, blind, shuffling across the uneven stone knowing our destination was almost in front of us. “Now open your eyes!” he excitedly ordered.

 

Gasps of wonder echoed in the stone ravine, as the Treasury facade revealed itself through the tall narrow stone crevasse directly in front of us. As the light reflected across the hundred foot pillars, arches and columns of the magnificent edifice carved in the face of the stone, I walked out of the Siq ravine inexorably drawn toward this ancient wonder. Despite the crowds, camel jockeys and vendors, the attraction was undeniable. I had never seen anything like this—it almost appeared as if part of the Unites States Supreme Court was carved in stone, and then a romantic Greco-roman temple was tastefully stacked on top of it. According to our guide the Treasury was carved over two thousand years ago, and its original purpose has been lost in the annals of time. The only reason it is called the Treasury is some intrepid explorers expected to find treasure in it. The treasure is intrinsic in its beauty, design, and architecture—no gold or silver was ever reported found there.

 

Having never ridden a camel, I transformed into a caricature of a tourist, hired a camel and rode through the swarming crowd, and seized my photo opportunity of Jack-on-a-camel-at-Petra. I forced my parents to do the same; my mom happily obliged, my dad wouldn’t do it until I had already paid the camel jockey for him, and he either had to ride the camel or I lost my $3—his Dutch background and natural aversion to wasting money got the best of him, and swept up in the moment he joined my mother and I in riding a camel in Petra.

 

Our guide walked us further down to an amphitheater and many more but not as well preserved facades and then stopped at a shop for refreshment and the ubiquitous selling of trinkets, mementos and souvenirs. Somehow my mom got separated from us, I won’t say she was lost, as she knew where she was, but after a short time my dad grew worried. When you have been with each other as long as they have—they were married in 1958—and are best friends, it is stressful to be accidentally separated in a large, crowded site like Petra. Even though I am sure he knew she was fine, the thought of her lying on the ground with a sprained ankle or worse propelled my dad to anxiously search until he found her. After a half-hour my dad and Carla from the excursion staff found my mom, along with Sandy from our group, about five hundred yards past the shopping stop. Once again an excellent guide lost track and didn’t communicate well with our group when the lure of sales commission from tourists reared its ugly head. After reuniting with his wife, my dad was about ready to go. We were supposed to leave Petra to go to lunch, but since it was only 1 p.m., and the hike back up required one hour, and we didn’t leave for Wadi Rum until 4 p.m., I told the guide I would stay in Petra another hour and catch up with the group around 3 p.m. at the hotel where the buffet lunch was served.

 

I hiked a small hill with a small Greek temple appearing façade on top, situated directly across from the amphitheatre. Despite the hundreds of people wandering Petra, the site is large enough that with ten minutes effort a cool, quiet, peaceful retreat can be found. The first cave entrance I tried unfortunately smelled of old urine, so I found another cave, made a small pillow from my fleece jacket, put on my ipod, and leaned back to take in the surreal view. From this height the tourists in the distance looked like large ants marching in an identical line from one spot to the next; they constantly moved back and forth. Off in the distance more stone carved fairytale buildings beckoned, but with too little time I chose to simply watch and experience the mystical magic of Petra’s legacy from my caves view. As I lay on my stone dais, I wondered what other men and women watched from this same exact spot, hundreds or thousands of years ago. The property taxes, visa bills, episodes of ‘Lost’ and the weeds in the yard back home were relegated to the trivial place they deserve, as the hand-carved stone walls of Petra, like their counterparts in Egypt and Greece, bore stark witness to the short time humans live, and the fleeting nature of so many temporal tasks I deem important. If there is a lesson for me in the stone monuments of Jordan and Egypt it is that I need to look at the world with new eyes—I need to do the things that are truly important, the things that matter such as raising a child, having a good relationship, honoring my parents, grandparents, siblings and friends, helping others recover from their own addictions as I am recovering from mine—and donate less time to my TV show addictions (‘24’ really is crack TV, and I am hooked), making one more dollar that I don’t need—I just want to take it because it is there and I enjoy seeing if I can get it, and the countless meaningless, but urgent tasks that I allow, invite and encourage to rule my time and mental, emotional and spiritual energy on a daily basis. The potential for profound thoughts and spiritual shifts in ancient environments is great, and though I don’t expect people to share my revelations, I hope they find their own truths.

 

Far too quickly my extra hour in splendid solitude passed, I hiked down the hill, hired a camel for a short ride to the Treasury, and walked the mile and a half gradually ascending path to the trailhead. Close to the top a man asked where I was from.

 

“Bellingham, Washington, about a hundred miles north of Seattle,” I replied.

 

“I’m from Philly,” he said. “So where are you coming from.”

 

“Egypt. We were at Luxor the past two days and unfortunately have to leave Petra tomorrow.”

 

“Did you fly up here,” he asked.

 

“No, I am on a ship.”

 

“Where did you get on, in Luxor,” he asked, his curiosity growing.

 

“Um, well actually I got on the ship in Hong Kong. It is a 30,000-ton cruise ship with 700 passengers and 400 crew. The trip ends in Athens on Saturday,” I replied.

 

His eyes grew large and in a slightly envious tone he said, “Wow, you guys went around the world.”

 

I thought about what he said. I hadn’t really considered our 35-days from Hong Kong to Athens as a true round the world cruise—those last three months, cost $50,000 and we only circumvented a little less than half the globe—but I realized in the eyes of the stranger from Philadelphia, and in the eyes of my friends and family at home I did go on a round the world cruise. Looking at it in a new light I realized I have almost completed the world cruise I always dreamed of taking with my mom and dad.

 

“Yeah, I guess we did,” I proudly replied. “It has been absolutely fantastic.”

 

With a new spring in my step I smiled, bade him good-bye, walked the remaining few hundred yards to the hotel, informed my parents and our guide I was back, and ate a quick, light lunch. This trip I have saved my serious eating for Toscana and the Grand Dining Room.

 

At 4 o’clock I reluctantly left Petra—with a large mental note to return with Ty—but the excitement of the jeep safari, desert sunset and Bedouin dinner made the departure easier. It was a ninety-minute drive; I half-slept for an hour, and then started looking at the amazing landscape of Wadi Rum. Interspersed between vast expanses of air-rippled sand were tall oases of deep red hued rock. The huge, craggy, rock formations, rising out of the desert sand, like tall, rock atolls standing proudly against the ocean sky, oblivious to wind, water, rain or sun, dominated the desert landscape. I put on my ipod and Bono started singing about the beauty of desert sky. The song, ‘In God’s Country’ is one of the lesser know titles from my favorite pop album of all time, U2’s ‘The Joshua Tree.’ My ipod has never randomly picked a more appropriate song. A warm, connected tingling sensation ran through my head and up and down my spine while I basked in the beauty of the red sand and rocks of Wadi Rum listening to Bono’s musical homage to God’s glorious artistic juxtaposition of red desert against clear blue sky. The song ended, the moment passed, and I quietly engaged my father in a brief conversation about his day.

 

When we arrived at the visitor’s center we were placed in small groups of six per jeep, the “jeeps” were Toyota and Nissan pickup trucks with opposite facing benches welded in the truck bed. We sat three per side as we entered the desert. Sandy, Bill and Nancy joined us in our jeep. They were also on our bus in Luxor, and Sandy and Nancy are on our Trivia Team. Nancy just retired at a young age and Bill is her uncle, so she and I have the shared experience of traveling with two members of an earlier generation of our immediate family. Bill was born in the same small coal town in eastern West Virginia where my mom was born and my grandma is from (after they mutually discovered this he “adopted” my mom, and she received the same chivalrous care from Bill that he reserved for his wife and niece). I liked him immediately—I like anyone who reminds me of my grandma, no one reminds me of her more than Ty—and it was special to have that evening in the desert with Bill, Nancy and Sandy. Even though we have all lived long enough to realize the zenith of our friendship is likely to be this cruise, Bill, Nancy and Sandy are the kind of people worth staying in touch with.

 

After several photo stops (here is where ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ was filmed, etc.), and about a half hour ride, we arrived at the perfect outcrop of rock to watch the setting sun. As we pulled in I realized the moon was almost full and rising above an “L” shaped rock formation directly behind us. I pointed this out to Bill, and he and I dashed a few hundred yards back and our cameras captured the blue sky, red rock and almost full moon aligned in perfect symmetry. After the desert sunset we headed to our Bedouin dinner.

 

Our first glimpse of it was hundred of lights twinkling in the deepening black of the desert night. As we drove closer the lights revealed themselves as Japanese paper lanterns creating a path leading to the “U” shaped arrangement of dining tents. Bedouin musicians played native music and we were warmly welcomed and greeted as we made our way down the candle lit path. The only fly in the ointment was our fellow traveler. Our jeep was one of the last to arrive, and each tent contained several tables for six. We were encouraged to eat Bedouin style, without chairs, and for our comfort foam cushions were setup as benches to seat three guests on either side of each table. Although hardly anyone was sitting at a table, every available place setting was reserved by a camera, purse, hat or jacket belonging to our fellow Nautica passengers. It was like trying to find an open deck chair at noon on a sunny sea day on Carnival. I contacted an A&K representative, and they finally found us a place to sit.

 

Dinner was tender lamb cooked in the sand, chicken skewers, rice, potatoes, salads, desserts, pita bread and fruits accompanied by unlimited beer, wine, and soda all served beneath a clear, moonlit desert sky. A large “rave” worthy speaker system had been set around the tents and as we ate, live music was broadcast over the speakers. A “U” shaped line of watch fires blazed along the perimeter of a large dance area surrounded on three sides by our dinner tables. After dinner a belly dance appeared and she selected men at random to perform her routine with. Her first choice was our friend Kirk, but so many other passengers tried to get a photo I couldn’t really provide him a good picture.

 

“That belly dancer is like a fox at a traditional English fox hunt,” I said to my dad. “There are a hundred people trying to take a photo, and only one of her.” He laughed and as the dance went on photos became easier to take. After the dancing the Bedouin DJ played a few more songs, but by the time he put on the ‘Macarena’ we decided it was time to return to the buses. We were told to just get in any jeep for the dark ride to the bus, as it was too difficult to find our original vehicle. Shortly, we met our new driver.

 

My friend Bob commented his driver looked about twelve-years old. I thought he meant he had a twenty year old driver that looked young, but when I saw his driver, wearing a red Nike hat in a useless attempt to appear older, he looked about ten or twelve years old. He told Bob he was fourteen.

 

“Bob and Carol’s driver doesn’t look fourteen to me,” my mom said, “I don’t think he has reached puberty yet. Maybe Bedouins look younger then some other people, but he still doesn’t look fourteen.”

 

“If that kid is fourteen I’ll eat this hat,” Sandy said as she pointed to her white Arabic headdress.

 

Our new driver was about nineteen, wore a navy blue t-shirt asking, “GOT GOD?” and spoke no English. He took off with a jolt and soon we were dangerously passing other jeeps in the nighttime shifting desert sand.

 

“He may have God, but I haven’t even got a seat belt,” I announced. Even though they laughed it was obvious everyone was nervous from his reckless driving. My dad banged on the window and made a slow-down motion with his hand. The temporary reprieve from Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride lasted less than a minute, because like a dog chasing a steak bone, with a glance at a jeep pulling toward us our driver forgot his momentary commitment to our safety, comfort and peace of mind, and he resumed his nighttime sport of racing other jeeps in the sand. “Maybe his favorite movie is ‘Smokey and the Bandit’,” I offered, in an effort to distract everyone from their concern for our safety. It didn’t work; no one laughed. Fortunately the buses were just ahead of us and we arrived safely.

 

We drove back to Aqaba. As we drew near the ship I saw the world’s second largest flagpole, so tall it has an red blinking aircraft warning light fastened to the tip, securing the Jordanian flag as it waved in the cool night breeze. It will be good to be back home and see the Stars and Stripes again, I thought. With everything going on politically in the world there have been times I have felt ashamed of our flag, but after seeing all these different countries, seeing all the different flags, I look forward to seeing the familiar red, white and blue, and despite our many problems I remain grateful to be a citizen of the United States from birth.

 

Once again a red carpet was rolled from the gangplank to greet us, the Nautica band played ‘Bye Bye Blackbird’, ship staff flanked either side of the red carpet and warmly and enthusiastically greeted us as we made our way along the carpet to the stairs home. The Oceania tradition of greeting returning guest in this manner is a fine one; it reinforces the feeling of coming home and making those who missed you joyously happy simply by setting your foot in the door. There is an eight-year old Wheaten Terrier I dearly love at home with Ty who will be beside himself when I set my foot in our door next Sunday. Whether it is a spouse, a housekeeper, a friend, a babysitter, a child or a dog, it feels good to be warmly greeted when you return home.

 

When I woke up this morning I could still smell the smoke from the campfire last night in my hair—it was an unforgettable evening in the desert. Today is the first of the three remaining sea days. I wrote most of this in the cabana. The temperature was mid 70’s and though the glare of the sun makes it hard to write, I am trying to enjoy as many ship amenities as possible as I approach the finish line. The only interruption was Emil, the world’s greatest head waiter, anticipating my needs, fetching berry sorbet without being asked and doing everything he can to make me feel special. I swear he would offer to use the bathroom on my behalf if such a thing were biologically possible. I figure walking the two flights of stairs up and down to the bathroom is good for me, so I am glad there are still a few things I have to do for myself.

 

Today we are at the tip of the Red Sea. Land is close on both sides—Egypt is off both the port and starboard bow. If the ocean weren’t so warm and blue, and the landscape so arid and barren, we could be traversing the Inside Passage from Vancouver to Ketchikan. Tomorrow we transit the Suez Canal, and the day after that we get up at 4:30 a.m. for the trip from Port Said to Cairo. The pyramids are singing their siren song; I can’t believe I finally get to see them.

 

Dinner tonight in the Grand Dining Room was the best of the cruise. For gourmets there was caviar and foie gras for appetizers, and for the rest of us Beef Wellington, Lobster, Monkfish and savory handmade pasta. I tried the caviar and it didn’t taste any better now than it did the last time on Silverseas. At least this time I didn’t have to wear my tuxedo. I told my mom I was going to try caviar again since it was on the menu and my tastes might have changed.

 

“When you’re my age you’ll know when you don’t like something,” she wisely said as she enjoyed her fruit appetizer. I ordered the Manjari chocolate passion fruit volcano for dessert. If Ty and I can ever get married it is what I want to serve our guests. It is a perfect dark chocolate pyramid with a white chocolate center served with an eye-opening tart passion fruit reduction sauce on the side. I chose how sweet or how tart each mouthful was by harmoniously mixing the dark and white sweet chocolate with the tangy fruit sauce.

 

Not even Oceania can control everything, and tonight the Gods smiled on us. During dinner the sun perfectly set in a vivid orange ball of fire just off the forward port dining room window. As the last glimmer of the sun sank in the blue ocean, and the dining room reverted from the bright orange glow of the sun to the traditional glow of incandescent lights, I realized the full moon was rising on the aft starboard side. As the day evaporated, the moonbeams grew brighter, cutting a wide swath as they danced across the rippled waves of Nautica’s smooth wake. From my dining room table located center stern on the window I enjoyed the ageless, beautiful tango of the sun and full moon on the Red Sea, while relishing the fine company of just my mother and father.

 

Back in the cabin a personalized certificate stating I successfully completed the Hong Kong to Athens Connoisseur’s Collection and traveled 9,162.5 nautical miles—Oceania has confidence I will complete it—along with an announcement that I’m the newest member of the Oceania Club, lay at the foot of my bed.

 

Thanks for traveling with me this far. It has been a perfect trip filled with calm seas, sunny skies, exotic ports, and stimulating company both here onboard Nautica and with all of you online.

[scdreamer]

What perfect timing for your latest post to arrive, Jack. I was just getting ready to take a lunch break and thought I'd check CC to see if there were any interesting posts. When I saw that you had just posted, I knew right away I was going to have an enjoyable lunch today!

 

As corny as it may sound, I almost feel as if I know you personally now ... I so appreciate your philosophical musings - they compliment the descriptions of your travels perfectly.

 

(A small suggestion - if you have never read much of the old testament in the Bible, as I haven't --- you may enjoy reading the book, The Red Tent by Anita Diamante. Much of the historical story takes place in ancient Egypt - and it after I read it, I found a Bible and looked up the obscure verse upon which the story is based. Quite intriguing.)

 

Thank you once again for your taking the time to share your experiences ... looking forward to "seeing" the pyramids with you!

 

Leslie & Wayne

[zutalors]

Hi Jack

 

First let me say how much I too am enjoying your posts! Funny and warm! I love your "Lumpy " stories having watched "Leave it to Beaver" in my childhood! It is funny how people can start out annoying you and then a glint of something really good shines through just when you feel like you have them pegged.

 

There is something magical about travel that makes you see things more clearly and pull away from the little day to day worries and get the bigger picture somehow. Having said that - I have realized I am not traveling enough!!!

 

My husband and I are booked on Insignia Athens to Rome next Sept. for our 25th anniversary so there's a start! We are going to be in Egypt for 2 days so I have been anxiously awaiting your Egypt posts especially Cairo and the Pyramids!

 

Thanks again for putting yourself out there .... It's all those little anecdotes about how you feel and relate to the passengers, the bus rides, your parents, that make it so good. Keep on writing!

[Aussie Gal]

Thankyou Jack for sharing all your wonderful adventures of Asia on Nautica. I began reading them only one week ago as I searched for information about the Hong Kong to Athens cruise as we have booked to do the same cruise next April 2008. Now I can hardly wait. Thankyou for your information reguarding the trips to Agra to the Taj Mahal and also to Luxor this will be very helpful in our planning.

We are keeping your journal of your trip to read many times while we wait until it is our turn. We know it will be an amazing journey as your have experienced. Once again thankyou and I wish you safe return home.

 

wildduck,

 

We have a Roll Call for this cruise in 2008 and would love you to come over and join us. We need another Aussie to balance the mix!

 

Here is the link: http://boards.cruisecritic.com/showthread.php?t=410529&page=4

 

Jennie