2014. JANUARY 9-13, WEST COAST CRUISE. PRINCESS SAPPHIRE

JANUARY 2014 CRUISE TO . . . NOWHERE

THURSDAY JAN 9

I'm up at 3:55 am, no chance of getting more sleep no matter how many times I count backwards from 100. It's a new trip after all even though it's "a cruise to nowhere" of four nights on the Princess Sapphire--major stop San Diego! Still there are all those last minute preparations, adding this and that to our carry-ons, writing checks, and in this instance calling Gate 1 Discovery to see if our Indonesia tour, fully paid for, will run . "It looks good" someone named Anna says. "That means I can start packing?" "Yes". I tell Bob and I intuit that he would have preferred Anna said no way Jose. Hmm.

After I've poured my contraband vodkas into their special contraband containers (what fun) and cooked up my good farm breakfast, Bob is up packing and checking directions to the port. We're a well oiled machine.

SAFELY PARKED. SHIP IN SIGHT.

Out by 9, we stop at the bank to deposit the check from our newest tenants whose lease I signed last night. Whew. Escaped that bullet and like the very recent and very much longer last cruise can leave with a freer mind after weeks of showing, in each case, an apartment that seems to fall short of dozens of prospects' expectations (though I found myself calling these places repeatedly "cute" "charming" "just right"). But heh heh achieved the prize of big rent raises.

WINS LEAST FAVORITE ACTIVITY AWARD

Even though we are seated in our "preferred passenger" section by 12:30 it still feels like an enormous cattle call to me.

Our stateroom won't be ready until 1:30 a message says but can we deposit our carry-ons then? Relax baby relax.
Waiting for the call to board. "We need a friend with a private yacht," I say. "We need a friend," Bob glumly replies.

A WELL-TRAINED PASSENGER

Boarding preferred platinum "E as in Edward". But we're F as in fucked. Actually not so bad as long as you're not crowd-phobic. We're in our room by 12:20. Looks familiar.

1: pm and it's lunch in the International Dining Room. B. Mixed green salad and Hungarian paprika goulash served w spaetzle. R. Beef consome with herbed pancake strips (that's a little strange but not unobjectionable) and spaghetti alla putinesca. Bob looking over the schedule muses "It took us two hours to get here and it will take the ship 8 to 10 hours to get back". Relaxing in our seats at a table for 4 I say it's almost as if we never left the ship [Ruby that is]. Our servers this afternoon are from India and Indonesia (our next trip apparently). And our wine is from . . . nowhere in particular. Getting in the mood of it all, we have dessert "Oh what the hell" B rocky road ice cream ("really good chocolate chip ice cream. I forgot it has marshmallows and I don't like marshmallows.") R has chocolate eclair. Quite nice but cold (which we decide is "the genre").

Time for a tour (there are five of us) of the public rooms with Sarah from Devon, England. Wish we remembered from five years ago Princess Diamond's layout because this is its lovely (and it is!) sister ship.

Phillip our steward arrives to introduce himself and then to return with our promised glasses of champagne.

We have fun deciding which of the San Diego tours we will go on tomorrow. Wild Animal Park? We're into tame. Sea world? Shame about Shamu. The old town trolley is the cheapest but maybe next time. He he. "It's so hard being indolent" say Bob as we try to figure out when we'll dine and where. "Escape completely" says the tv. Hmm. 8 at the Pacific Moon it is. Bob says it “sounds moderately bawdy. Keep thinking about mooning."
Awaiting the seven blasts signaling us to exit for the emergency drill we review various notes offering us the perks of our status, parties with hors deuvres, invitations, complimentary drinks tickets. We've got liters of vodka, bottles of wine, olives, cheese--hey thanks! we'll cacoon!

The drill lasts about a half hour and we, sitting on the Explorer Lounge stage under spotlights, are embarrassed to be trying on our life jackets in full view of the masses -- I'd rather be singing-- but manage to get them on. Once released from this strange ritual we discover that workmen are installing new larger tv's in our stateroom.

Noting other passengers as we escape to the top floor Skywalkers Lounge--the one with the panoramic windows--there are many Asians and fat, old and infirm people (sometimes combined in one) but as expected for a brief trip more younger people than usual. Turns out we are appropriate up here because this lounge is now reserved for elite and platinum guests (us!) for a special party. They're bringing in the big glasses for jumbo shrimp. Nice to know its a club we can join but we'll head downstairs home anyway. On the way I'm dancing to the music playing for the assembled masses watching the disembarkation - a maid shouts appreciatively (Bob's word) to me as I dance through the halls on our way downstairs.

Home cocktails, home brewed as it were, olives, cheese on crackers and turns out we're not the only ones. We see other balcony passengers, no doubt also sufficiently weathered and knowing, with their glasses of booze aloft as we leave the port of LA--really romantic in the sunset - (who knew?). Most of these people I suspect are like us experienced cruisers who got a "free cruise". Much mayhem up top.

MSNBC is luxuriating in the Chris Christie scandal and it's too much fun.

Juggler in the atrium. Really polished, funny.

"To a successful crossing" is our toast in the Pacific Moon, a truly beautiful dining room. Alabaster columns, pink tones. (Later we discover we stumbled into the southwest dining room, [Santa Fe] instead!).
Strangely as Marco our Ukranian server tells us (he says he's from Japan ha ha) the specialty here is fajitas. Huh? [see above mistaken identity] Reuel: Deep fried sushi with Bacardi wasabi emulsion and kimchi. (Fascinating. Brilliant. ) Cajun-spiced crawfish crockpot. Wow. B. Sushi. Tomato soup. (Really good.) Moroccan vegetable ragout w pita bread and green leaf salad. (Curry veg stew, well done. Pita chips strange, salad very good).

Elderly couple next to us talking about people slipping in AA as we finish our bottle of wine. Dessert is Black Forest cake and it is gorgeous.
Fun martini (are they really?) demonstration. Idea is participants dance-shake the concoctions (which they get to drink).

But it's almost Showtime!
At the theatre, tiny Asian children pull in next to us and pull out the seat cocktail tables, something we learned to do only in our 70's if at all. Learning early.

The show is Do You Wanna Dance. Though no strains of the Bette Middler number I love is in evidence, this is one show we haven't seen on the seas before and it is thoroughly polished. Unlike Ruby there's only one set but lighting does wonders and the winsome (!) dancers and singers move . . . winsomely. More pause between numbers but who cares. It's forgettable/fascinating. In the elevator a clearly gay man gives us all a bad name by declaiming his nonsensical comparison between these shows and Celebrity's. When he leaves Bob declares that we've been visited by Jerome Robbins.

FRIDAY JAN 10
Nice looking server with our coffee and tea. B "And why did I order it? Because I could." We're in San Diego which according to our destination guide is "a place of infinite beauty, affectionate locals [really?) and endless sunshine” (not really but close enough.)

Patter tells us that there are local celebrities on board while we're docked including Dr. Bob and Bill W and Paul McCartney repeating his Central Park concert. But there's not much on the in-dock schedule.
Of in-dock, aka N Street pier, we have a lovely view head-on of the aircraft carrier 41 (in neon) which is now a museum Bob and Reuel veteran San Diegans have never seen and to the North spreads our fairly undistinguished cityscape.

I don't think there are tables for two in the International Dining room so we again have a table for four far away in a corner--perfect. B. Quite good mushroom and cheese omelette. R. Alaskan Sampler which is scrambled eggs and lox, this boy's favorite.

Much consulting with the internet guy to discover how to get our Platinum Circle 150 free minutes each and then how to access our ATT Internet while in domestic port. Walk out onto the adjacent Promenade deck for a strong enough signal is the advice and this provokes us to walk along that deck to see our city from a rather different perspective than usual.

We tour the art gallery if only to be appalled. I say if I were a lesbian I'd buy the Wonder Woman piece but that's about it.

Kicked out of our room by our steward. (We see him working and turn around.) After touring the reprehensible (much too harsh) horizon buffet, we descend to Alfredo's, the pizza restaurant promising Neopolitan style pizza, thin crust, hand stretched and baked to order for a Tarantina pizza with tomato sauce, mozzarella, mussels, bay shrimp, roasted garlic, capers, basil, oregano (guess who orders that) and the eponymous Sapphire Princess pizza consisting of tomato sauce, buffalo mozzarella, Parma ham, bell peppers, red onion, dried tomatoes and basil. A couple of glasses of the house red (actually serviceable) and we are admonished by the waitress to order a bottle next time. (Yeah. We know.) Sated. Too bad. Can't have another lunch. I take a photo of Bob covering his face which I could caption “Ashamed not to leave even one morsel for poor people”.

Making reservations for the pacific moon dining room (this time we'll try to find it) at 8, our cabin provides an escape . . . If not “completely”.

Taking to our balcony (deeper than the Ruby's and by all accounts both are larger than the upcoming Royal's) to finish reading the book section of The Times--catching that precious San Diego sun (not much new there).

While B wisely enjoys more lethargy time in his suite R takes an hour of elyptical.

We're having in-cabin martinis and watching a wonderfully entertaining Chris Hayes segment debating which states are the most corrupt, NJ, FL, LA, or IL. Great stuff. Then Maddow doing her incredible muckraking about Cristie. Excellent theatre this.

Then it's 6-ish and we're Escaping more or less Completely from San Diego which, frankly, was the idea.

As we leave from San Diego that bizarre sensation as if we're departing from Hong Kong or Sydney--but it's not. It's where we now live. I guess this makes us feel like temporary souls. Time to dress, existential questions aside, for the evening.

The Comedian tonight has a funny, genial persona. Fat hippy type who played with all the greats, in particular the Beach Boys.

This time we find the right dining room tonight after the frenetic and photogenic balloon drop in the atrium.

Reuel's appetizer is pork spareribs. (Ambitious). Cream of cauliflower. (Truly delicious.) Surf and Turf. Shrimp is wonderful as is everything. No complaints about the cuisine on this ship. B. Watermelon and feta (work well together), onion soup, (good but could be more flavorful), chicken breast. "The chicken's lovely. I should do a chicken like this.” We love our waiter's name, Ulysses. Is that a typical Pilipino name?

We note the number of Asians aboard. Wonder why. Perhaps because they were on our last cruise and like us saw a good deal. We toast to the Orientals, Occidentals and . . . Accidentals.

Dessert. B. Fudge brownie ice cream. Lovely. R. Creme brûlée at Bob's suggestion. OMG Sublime.

Taking in one song of the serviceable Crooners Bar lounge singer and the wine bottle potion does its trick. To bed straightaway.

SATURDAY JANUARY 11.
Sunrises are cool. It's neat not to have any expectations as we don't in this instance. The sunrise as we enter Ensenada frames a beautiful setting.

 “Don't bother me.” That's the refrain oft heard when I nudge Bob to come out to the balcony to see this or that wonder. He often does but I rather tend to press the case. As I do here because it's God Purty (to quote Eugene ONeil). There's the Carnival Inspiration docked as we sail into the harbor.

Classy breakfast in the dining room. Everything's big. Just the two of us at a table for eight with view of the big dining room and big breakfast--pastries and Eggs Benedicts and "mothers compote" for me and hash browns and . . .

This morning we focus on the flowers on each table. In their slim silver vases, they must be a hardy strain to last so long and are non-fragrant so as not to compete with the cuisine's aromas.

Confusion as we follow a Duck Family to disembark. And at the end of the gangplank we are invited to take a photo with Aztek ladies, with, inexplicably, a “Here Lady” instruction to Bob. Then lemming-like we proceed to our bus.

Guide Larissa. St. Thomas winery. 2nd oldest in Mexico. 45 minutes. Then town. Convention Center and hour for shopping.
Casino under mgmt of Jack Dempsey until 1935 when gambling became illegal. Pass square of hero's.
Ensenada Founded 1882. See oldest church, bar, jail, and school. Over 1/2 million residents. 90% of wine consumed in Mexico is from Ensenada. 60 wineries here. 
Alighting from the bus at the tasting room I hear a fat youngish guy behind me breathing heavily. Why do people inflict this on themselves?

Francisco tells us about the winery. 120 years old. 1st a new chard. Not bad actually. Next A white aged in oak 2009. Nah. Young cab. Not bad at all. I think it's what we drink in PV. Young merlot not as good as the cab.

Larissa. Most wineries located nearby in the valley of Guadalupe. One Marguerita--feel happy. More than two, speak Spanish.

31 states in Mexico. Baja CA is a state. Here temp never higher than 85. 60,000 Americans and Canadians living on Baha coast. 
Export yellow fin tuna to Japan.

Pass our lady of Guadalupe cathedral.

60% of farm products goes to CA and ARIZ.

The convention center is very pretty, Ensenada is 80 minutes from San Ysedro.
Cabo San Lucas: 17-24 hour drive from Ensenada. Titanic was filmed in Rosarita.

Great whales migrate from Alaska. Babies born in Mexico. Therefore "Mexican whales". Humpback whales go to the Acapulco area. 
Built as a hotel on 1928. Cost 2 million. Dempsey was made mgr in order to bring people from the US here. From 1939-42 it became a military base. After the war it was a hotel until 1964 when for lack of patronage (tell me about it) it was abandoned and ransacked. 35 years ago it was refurbished. Has many influences from Spain and India. Ceilings were painted by Alfredo Martinez, the "Michaelangelo of Ensenada". We're in a room used for dances, capacity of 500. 1948 Rita Hayworth filmed Lady of the Night here. 

Only one chandelier remains (in the casino room) because the robbers couldn't fit it thru the doors. 
Bob says the place has the feel of a WPA post office.
In the bar one upside down floor tile. Guy says to us sotto voce, "It's Mexican work".

We get our margaritas (not very alcoholic) in another charming bar adjacent to a sunny plaza with various stalls selling stuff. Wonderfully cheesy.

Bob wonders where "Buffalo Bill" (see photo) came from. We do have some picturesque passengers on this cruise. "They're from Portlandia" he surmises. As we leave I say I enjoyed seeing it. Bob says he enjoyed it almost as much as I did (which I suppose is as it should be).

Famous bar since 1892.
Talks about Mexican T diet. Tacos. Tostadas, and Tequila.
Fish tacos were invented here in Ensenada. Bob says as we walk past the hundreds of stores and stalls in the town central that one of the nice things about being old is that you don't have to buy things since you have everything.

WET LIPS AND DRY TANKS

NOWHERE THERE

At the Horizon we order a giant Marguerita for two (comes with chips, spicy salsa, guacamole and two straws. Muy excellente! to accompany our full plates. Bob more sparing with his egg drop soup (really good), meatballs (we're not in Ikea anymore) and salad, and me with . . . Everything. Let's just say "tastes of the nations".

TASTES OF THE NATIONS OR THE TROUBLE WITH BUFFETS

So in addition to these pleasures, we take cheeses and those Mexican crackers back to the cabin for hor's deuvres later. (A ploy to remember on subsequent trips when h'ors deuvres just aren't free.)

We nap. Hey that was a B I G Marguerita. And I head to the spa where I swim 600 strokes against the resistance machine and refuse to have a heart attack. Then in the now familiar steam, sauna, shower suite emerge refreshed and a hell of a lot less woozy.

I return to find Bob watching the setting sun from the balcony. Quick grab the purloined cheese and crackers, toothpick those olives I brought from home, two for each day, and fix the martinis in time to catch the sun finally dipping below the sea line silhouetting a newly arrived cargo ship and it's metal hoists against the sky. And then sea lions on the jetty honking valedictory serenades at us.

Darkness descending inside we watch a travel segment on British luxury hotels. What could be better?
The choice is between in-London and escape hotels. I say we don't go to London to escape but to engage. We take cruises to "escape completely". In fact Bob clearly goes for the in-town Stafford Hotel in St. James (which the couple in the show choose).

IN THE PINK. SAY CHEEESY.

The Show. A black male comic duo. They are absolutely refreshing playing on racial stereotypes and break dancing.

LOVELY RESTAURANT REFLECTING REUEL'S COLORFUL "SHMATA"

In the truly beautiful Vivaldi dining room--gotta love the separate restaurants--we are strangely surrounded by twenty-something's--a table of somewhat overweight serious girls, one has pink hair (are we in a Lena Dunham episode?). Bob later thinks that 3 of them are sisters—on the other side a couple, he with many tattoos and regulations backwards cap; she's a gorgeous young blonde. Talking about their "moms and dads". Variety.

For appetizers, my Tuna tartare is lovely, Bob's asparagus is perfect. I have a nice salad but where is Bob's soup? Needs to ask. Server’s "Sorry didn't hear you" puts bob in a bad mood. It's a fagiole. (Good.) I ordered lamb. I'm always sorry when I order lamb and this is certainly no exception, without qualities though the string beans and tomato thing are perfect. Bob's chicken breast "is not inspired".
Dessert. Bob of course has the warm chocolate fudge cookie with vanilla bean ice cream, fudge topping. ("It's good.") I pass on the mango sugar-free (I'll roast in hell) cheesecake in favor of the traditional New York with macerated strawberries. Bob explains "they've been beaten into submission". (Good but it's not near Lindy's or Juniors quality). He then notes that the service in this dining room hasn't been up to par.

We're sleepy having worked so hard today and head to the cabin passing by and withstanding the marginal allures of last night's performer, now in the lounge, and the piano lounge guy playing Beatles (of course) melodies.

SUNDAY, JAN 12
No port in sight as I pull apart the curtains on the balcony doors. It's the solitary sea day on our way back to LA. Reverting to type, we turn on Melissa Harris-Perry accusing Republicans of lacking empathy (surprise!) and await the door knock of the Philipino lad delivering a huge enough breakfast of juice, egg and ham muffins, orange slices, pastries and tea and coffee.

Today I will not miss Zumba as we needed to yesterday because of our tour. Sure enough the center front row places are taken when I arrive 20 minutes early. The woman next to me asks if I'm the instructor since I'm wearing my Zumba shirt but soon these front row compadres and I are chatting about . . . Veganism as it seems Princess doesn't accommodate the vegan requirements of one of our number. My shirt is brought to the attention of the pink cheeked Brit instructor who says "you're dressed for the part".
The instructor is again more in the mode of aerobics and the ship is rocky but when it is over Bob, ready for the day, joins me and we head for the culinary presentation with the chef, Andrea, and the maître d', Silvio.

HUNGRY?

Food preparation requires 221 staff, under maître d' 267. 18,000 meals per sea day.
Today they will prepare 3 dishes starting with Potato gnocchi with pesto sauce. 
Always in these events there's a lot of kibitzing. Use 40,000 eggs a week.
Ratatouille and scallops.Then the pastry chef's concoction, tira misu in a martini glass (that's if you're doing it at home for a select few--fat chance) is followed by a

I'LL TAKE THAT TABLE

ALWAYS AVAILABLE

JAWS THE MELON

Galley tour, always fun, leading into tables of sale items one doesn't want or need from other cruises on the Sapphire. A t-shirt proclaiming Montego Bay? Nah. Nevertheless there is the lure of the potential bargain, the "find" that is built into the DNA.

Our servant is making up our room so we wander upstairs and settle into comfy chairs above the indoor pool with a couple of very lovely bloody Mary's accompanied by the pong pong sounds of ping pong players nearby.

A NOOK, A BLOODY AND BOBBY MAKES THREE

I swear the ship is listing treacherously and it's not just the bloodies, though Bob is theatrically dubious about that.

Lunch. R. Chicken broth with matzah balls (tiny balls, soup delish). Fish tacos (fabulous really). Bob. Mozzarella sticks. (Nice. Artery clogging) Nasir Goring (Indonesian dish--chicken skewers) in anticipation of our trip no doubt. Peanut sauce, very good. “Somewhat indifferent about the egg and rice combination” but I liked that spicy rice.)

Dessert. R baked apple in puff pastry with warm vanilla sauce. (I taste raisins but not sure where the apple is hiding. Pleasant anyway.) Bob. Chocolate marquese. "Rich and smooth. With a coffee sauce."

We pass on our server's offering of wine tastings today. “After our years as owners of wine bars and restaurants”, says Bob, “we've heard it all and it's all specious”.

Nap time for the old guys. My brief foray on the balcony is . . . brief. Chilly.

GAMES PEOPLE PLAY

ELEVATOR VIEW

This time the company mgr. for the show presentation in the Princess Theatre is a cute muscular South African dancer.

HUBBA HUBBA

Shows kept on 8-10 years. A show can cost 1/2 to 1 million dollars. 40 shows for the whole fleet. 5 shows on this ship. In house production co.
200 lighting fixtures--most are "intelligent" 600-700 lighting cues per show. Fly space. 26 flying lines. Studios in Santa Clarita CA. Can be 2 years to conceptualize a show.
Moving lifts up and down: 30 seconds sequence before it happens.
Smoke on floor takes 4 co2 containers. 2 month vacation. 6 dressers as secondary job. Do own hair and makeup. 3/4 hair piece. Quickest change 30 seconds. 
We walk the "Runaround" (path to other side of the stage). The small audience seems full of theatre people judging by the questions and overheard conversations as we tour the backstage area.

Nap time until I hie my way (geographically challenged, as always, it takes much time to find that “way”) to the spa where I again swim against the machine (not rage against since it is a great strenuous concept) steam, sauna and shower, again enjoying the feeling of invigoration.

My duty however is to get back for cocktails and proudly almost finish our personal vodka provisions for our martinis and appetizers in time. And how very nicely cocktaily to watch a show about the French impressionists, Monet, Degas, et al on our now enlarged (it's a genuine value added thing for Princess) 42" x 2 TV's.

So here we are in the theatre. Lights down. Production Show, Born to Be Wild, featuring somewhat reminiscent music and a pink Cadillac.

Juggler. Bob ("Charming, he's got his patter down. Feeling he went to Harvard.")

Santa Fe Dining Room is a beauty. R. Tian of crab, scallop, and Shrimp. Lovely combo with caviar. Soup Lobster bisque. (We both like it—its sweet potato based says Bob – has pieces of lobster too). Togarashi-Seared Red Snapper, haricot vert salad and sesame dressing. (Good. Liking the tastes.)
B. Appetizer veal Ravioli. (Delicious) Also lobster bisque. And as Main. Beef Medallions (not bad but sauce a little on the salty side.)

For dessert we are traditionalists despite all the other excellent choices so it will be Baked Alaska! (What could be bad?) and then a black man passenger offers us the rest of his bottle of wine saying it's really nice. How lovely I say. Life is good. When he leaves later with his white wife he waves at us.

We're sleepy.

MONDAY JANUARY 13
Up this final morning at 6 AM. Our bill, there's always a bill, is awaiting. We spent $272, which considering that's all the trip cost on our promotion not bad for four days of . . . debauchery? Sublimity?

We're arriving at a seemingly different Long Beach port than we arrived at -- the sunrise not yet eclipsing the lights of the giant machinery along the piers-- and we too, as through all adventures we embark on whether lengthy or brief, are probably changed in some way. There are memories specific and jumbled stored if not in the cortex at least in these recorded recollections.

Enough. Clean up, clear out and get ready to be fed. The Last Breakfast. R melon melange. the Lumberjack (a last breakfast tradition for me) steak, eggs, mushrooms. B. Cheese and mushroom omelette. Bacon. Both of us have Stollen with apricot jam. Yea.

And easy peezy. 8:25 head to the lounge for us special people and we're told we can just walk off if we want. We want. Through customs in a breeze. And on the road at 9 AM and ready for our next cruise. (Or tour. Next stop Indonesia in three weeks.)

Home in two hours to the routine, a stop at the post office while I call in a sandwich (we’re still eating) order at the Royal Food Mart, arrive home to see Don sweeping the sidewalk, and then both after that to enjoy our sandwich, a glass of wine and an old person nap.