CRUISE: AUSTRALIA TO LA 4/6-5/4/2019

SOUTH PACIFIC CRUISE — APRIL 6-MAY 4.

APRIL 6-8

Here we are in San Diego’s Airspace Lounge. This time Bob enjoys the incredulous response of the security agent asking him to take off his shoes. “But I’m 80.” “No!”

Always time for a martini (me) and a Chardonnay (Bob) before the flight in San Diego’s Airspace Lounge. It’s a far way to Sydney. First to LA. . Then the long haul (13 hours) to Auckland. And a mere 3 1/2 hour skip to Sydney and the awaiting Golden Princess.

Trouble in paradise? This early? Agent at the boarding gate badmouths  agent at the entry gate for not properly ticketing and remakes the tickets which once onboard with our drinks we discover does not include Bob’s flight from Auckland to Sydney. Much insufficient remonstrance. The plane doors will shut with Bob’s ticket undelivered. Promises, it’s no big deal. But can’t things go well? Will things go well, more to the point.

There’s always another drink, a nut mix called sweet and savory, and a Fetch-like male flight attendant with an Aussie accent—odd, it’s a commuter flight for god sake—we’re starting this Aussie thing too early.

LA: Then the travail—amended spelling of travel—persists. We are blithely informed that we’ll need to walk 1/2 hour.?ha ha big exaggeration. No, spot on. She foretold a Labyrinthine journey that defies the abilities of the elderly. Where is this Tom Bradley Terminal to be found? Always liked the guy. But this interminable walk is ridiculous.  Really. Bizarre. The next long corridor leads to another leads to a ramp leads to a . . . Avoid LA airport if you can.

Finally aboard our plane to Auckland and ensconced in our rather peculiar pods across from one another—I guess I arranged that—we get our champagne, order the Fast Dine supper rather than the five course option. And peruse our goody bags. Flight according to El Capitan is “12 hours and 25 minutes and expecting fine weather”,  It’s not a Boeing Suicide Max so some comfort that.

Oh that pumpkin soup is fantastic! While I’m watching a star is born—“only semi sublime. It’s the kind of movie you can sort of watch while drinking your soup.” Though I reconfirm that I love Lady G. Unconditionally.

Fascinating how Bradley Cooper and co. commandeered an ongoing concert to get the movie going—we know the tune.

A sad movie. Did it need to be remade?

 Sleep what six hours? Bob sleeps despite fact he didn’t ask for a bed. Funny. I can’t get my bed up so I ask what I think is a flight attendant to help me. He struggles and struggles and then says in New Zealanese and in sweet frustration I’d better get a flight attendant at which point I realize he’s the co-pilot. I should have known when he asked “Is that yours” of what is clearly the mattress bag.

Though their biz class can’t hold a candle to Emirates and most of the others. When is a pod not a pod?  they win me over somewhat when I see the New Zealanders display a whole film selection called Pride. Yes gay gay. (Interesting that the biz classes of the airplanes of repressive countries are splendid—maybe I’ll forgive this less spectacular version for its open-minded free-spiritedness.)

I select a documentary about Terence McNally, the playwright. It’s wonderful. Encomiums from his legions of collaborators. His own narrative, images of the young playwright to the old playwright. Marvelous man, artist, the artists he’s known, the lovers he’s loved, including difficult brilliant Albee and the brief-lived wonderful Wendy Wasserstein . His Dedication to this (my) collaborative craft. Brings tears to my eyes for reasons unknown and known.

Though there’s a quite nice omelette breakfast prefaced by a fruit and yogurt concoction, I refrain from the fruit bread toast which Bob pronounces as delicious. Oh well. I will no doubt succumb to glittering offerings in time.

Auckland’s Air New Zealand priority lounge is gorgeous as is the airport itself—gleaming and modern. Bob thinks it has s provincial feel-“could be the Lehigh airport”— which, if memory serves, seems right for this provincial nation. Though the lounge has a  brilliant bar, there’s is a self-service island which allows me to pour us a couple of glasses of New Zealand Chardonnay.

Our 3 1/2 hour flight to Sydney: Air NZ likes its peculiar biz class class configuration —not as private as some. But very hi-Tekkie. Magic buttons abound. A nice glass of Laurent-Perrier brut NV greets us. One nice feature is the small seat for inviting someone special to enjoy a repast with you. Both Bob and I decline in favor of dining solitude.

Since Peter Gordon is their chef, famed for his Maori fusion cuisine, Bob and I decide to try his”Warm Parmesan bagel with pastrami, Swiss cheese and grain mustard”. Fusion yes, once Jewish but Maori? hard to know. The eat half. Good boy. Left San Diego thirteen pounds lighter than a month earlier—at 151.

Heard good things about “Vice” so . . . What it is is funny, is savage. Remarkable impersonations of Cheney by Christian Bale, and George W. as conceived by Sam Rockwell. Also Spot on: Amy Adams as mastermind wife Lynne. —As rogue collaborator Rumsfeld. Written and directed by Adam McKay who interjects documentary footage in his vivid behind the scenes recreation to scathing effect as he paints a picture of a Machiavellian who wreaked havoc on the US.

(No wonder I’m all screwed up. I wake up to finish the previous day’s notes at 3:30 am somewhere in the south seas to discover we’re 17 hours ahead of San Diego where we’d be returning from our gym workout at 10;30 in the morning of the previous day. Or so my world clock says.)

Recalling the previous day’s cruise events— which have been a disaster and a disappointment— though mitigated to be honest.

First after a lengthy taxi ride through highways and byways of Sydney by voluble wisecracking (mainly about the USA and ugly Americans which I take pains to assure him we’re not—75 Aussie dollars plus $10. American tip—Aussie fellow, we are greeted at the port outside of the massive Golden by a mass of humanity, actually thousands of passengers trying to deliver their luggage and board the ship. Great confusion about where to go— please let us through. Even our priority line is hundreds long. Though the word is that it’s Australian security responsible for the delay this is a first for Princess. We’re usually hurtled through after a short wait.

Then our cabin— billed as the best of the mini-suites—is a disappointment. Smallish, dated. We’re tired and needy. In its favor? Massive tv screens “, Melvin our friendly steward, the bar guy delivering complimentary beer, soft drinks and made no-bottles.

But our luggage (3 pieces thanks to my overpacking) arrives one by one—concerning. My large suitcase will not arrive until 5 pm-ish.

A positive, we’re portside and we have that great view of the Sydney  harbor and the iconic opera house. (I shoot a selfie of that in the background to Facebook. We made it safely here.)

And then the disaster of the safety drill—waiting, huddled in Sabatini restaurant as we wait 45 minutes for it to begin. 7 short whistles and one long blast and the love boat song re-lyriced to something about we’re here for safety. At least we don’t have to put our blasted life jackets on anymore.

And the spoiled Elites that we are, we’re miffed that our 5 o clock daily  Elite cocktail party is not in Skywalkers which has lost its glamor but has been kidnapped by the Vista Lounge decks below.

Mitigation—our Club Class dining, special area for us swells. Leonard the maire d', Mario our waiter and Roderick his “partner”—we’re surprised to find he means that’s his assistant since he’s so clearly gay—not an at sea romance. Cerviche is excellent. My prime rib, not cooked rare, not best cut hmm. Bob not satisfied with his vegetarian selection. Our mango ice cream fine, Los Vascos, a Chilean wine, quite nice for $35. To be cellared.

Approach to Sydney harbor—beautiful. So there are . . . Mitigation’s. The performer at the 7:45 show, a smooth and sexy young man who sings soulfully, gets us to join in that time tested entertainer fashion and plays a mean sax and piano, reminding us that he loved his grandad and adores his mom and nieces; knows the way to the hearts of his elderly audience.

The upgraded bed is wicked comfortable.So all and all . . We’ll see what the morrow brings. But It’s 5ish . . . and today.

TUESDAY APRIL 9. AT SEA.

Restless. It’s six. Up and onto our balcony. The air is balmy and the sea is lovely, a bit restless too.

We’re in the center of the ship (club class) however and our experience is calm—funny I miss the rocking of the waves. It’s sure to come. Ah there it is- they must be really rocking in the poorer nether reaches.

When I read the Patter to Bob in bed discover that there doesn’t seem to be breakfast in the dining room (I am wrong). Bob in dire need of coffee, we rise up to Horizon buffet and try not to eat every breakfast treat. Simple omelettes and um other things—I take a whole mess of prunes because . . . I can (must).

Tai Chi is a pleasant discovery—a film of a white uniformed man instructing in dulcet tones in four progressive lessons—raise your hands as if holding a ball, etc. good start of a morning.

Zumba, American: be the first to take my spot front row left—lucky because there are 80 plus participants streaming in; I have a pleasant conversation with another die-hard, an Aussie lady who got on in Melbourne who reports that there are 3 instructors. Ours, ever smiling slightly portly Octavio from Cabo, despite Aussie lady’s report that he’s really good seems to be freelancing it—a select few repetitive steps. But hey it’s Zumba every sea day! And we got lots of them.

I catch some of the Maori lecture where Bob has been from its onset. The attractive lecturer is teaching Maori phrases and getting audience participation in various gruntlike chants. Fun.

Sunning on our balcony. Opportunity to send Facebook a selfie to prove we are . . . Sunning on our way to New Zealand.

Lunch in our special section of the dining room is capacious and wonderful.

Lunch at Club Class:

2nd half of our bottle

R. New Zealand Green Shell Mussels—neat in a nice sauce. London Mixed Grill—really a treat Fruit tartlet and ice cream—too good.

I say after a bite  “I shouldn’t have had it but it’s pure pleasure.”

Bob.  Pea soup. He likes.

Cobb salad. Works.

Chocolate Pear tartlet and ice cream

“They have a wonderful dessert chef”

Art lecture. Delivered by portly used car salesman type guy with some sort of European accent. Nomad hunters and gatherers. Cave drawings. Sculpture of fertility goddess. Survival. Clay.

Then moved to Nile—Egyptian civilization. 1st tempura paint. Specifically to record history.

Ancient Greece. More sculptures than paintings.

Romans perfected it. Focused on democracy, individuality and lust. Captured aristocracy.

Renaissance. Fresco paintings—bigger canvas. Michaelangelo, Leonardo, Donetello, churches commissioned them.

Leonardo revolutionized art. Mona Lisa considere risqué. First smile. Relaxed.

At this point business intervenes. I’ll never learn what happened after the Mona Lisa.  Frantic emails while the lecturer drones on. Our Buyer wants the price reduced hundreds of thousands of dollars to essentially to rebuild our property, as I see it. Needless to say this fiasco will consume my brain in the coming hours much of that consuming precious internet time in instructing, beseeching and complaining.

2: Tour lecture. An overview of our upcoming tours to Acaroa and Dunedin. Much about accessing places we’ll never visit because I've booked basic bus tours that don’t intrude on our “free” ship lunches.

At the Captains party that we wander into, passengers showing off their finery, great pyramid of champagne glasses and a glass of, the voluble inevitably Italian captain cites numbers of passengers from various countries: 19 from Germany,Switzerland 27, China, 68 NZ, 80 U.K., 330 from Canada, 825 Australia, and 1138 USA 

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 10. AT SEA.

 I miss Tai Chi because of breakfast. When I tell Leonard, our special matre 'd. All the way from Romania that my Benedict with salmon is cold he goes into a paroxysm of helpfulness and produces a supervised Benedict that is hot and yummy. Bobs regular Benedict with hollandaise is just ok--could use more hollandaise.

Tour lecture: Auckland take 15 min Ferry to Devonport.

Explorer Hop on off bus. Each loop 1 hour plus ferry ride. Purchase tickets in terminal building. Can go to My Eden. Hour. Walk up.

Lunch. R Mexican Albodaza soup with the little meatballs—love it all the time. And a yellow stuffed pepper. Bob. Gazpacho. Tortellini. He’s happy. Both Indulge with ice-cream. Especially indulgent inasmuch as I am suffering from rather severe um constriction.

Got to keep up with time change since we show up for the complementary—for elites—wine tasting when it is ending, our watches showing 3 not 4. Hmm. Even cruising requires more vigilance than one can muster.

Din din after Karaoke shall we say debacle. No. I’m learning the concept. You gotta have a concept. They didn’t have the number I’d prepared, Sway, or my former one, Fly Me to the Moon so . . .

Ok the black Forest cake is as Bob describes it as “insanely good . . . They have a great pastry chef”.  A traditional forest cake has deep chocolate— this is infused with a fruity cherry element. It’s exceptional.

Post that wonderful dinner and “home” we talk of the next day’s Fjordland cruising. “ Fjords” I say "glad we can affjord it.” Hardy ha ha.

THURSDAY APRIL 11. FJORDLANDS.

Fjordland Park lecture.

We’re in Milford Sound. Next Doubtful Time Sound. NZ sits on tech tonic plate between south and . . . Unique as predominantly forest. A lot of activity still—earthquakes etc. Lots of rain in Fjordland. Represents 5% of NZ’s land mass. Crossing  the 45th parallel now.

Temperate rain forest. Important to Maori because of greenstone and Jade. Maori lived in north island because of weather and greenstone.

Captain Cook first arrived in 1770. Spanish 1793.

Like going to Himalayas with Amazon jungle on the side. Water runs off quickly. 8th wonder of the world when it rains.

Maori transients in Fjordland. Now there are electric plants.

Dusky sound is his favorite. First settlements. Eastern side, lakes rather than Fjords.

Sandflies in abundance. Females bite. Great nuisance.

Can drink the water 💦 nfiltered. Representative of a Jurassic forest. (Reason fil companies choose it.) Huge fusia trees. Above the tree line (at 3000 ft) alpine flowers grow White and yellow colored.

 Wildlife: albatross—largest wingspan. Wood piedmont’s get drunk on berries. Fully marinated for Maoris of elf. Kea is an alpine parrot. Intelligent. Endangered. Kiwi (native to NZ) and national symbol. Flightless. Nostril is at tip of beak. Largest egg. Male looks after egg. Female leaves.

Kakapo-/largest parrot. Only 120 extant. After 1950’s deer decimated the forests, then hunters tried killing them; succeeded finally with helicopters. Deer numbers in check now. Forest reforested.

Wales, dolfins. Penguins, southern fur seals. Black coral is white when alive.

Milford road drive most beautiful in world.

We wait after the lecture because a Maori lecture is coming up.

Maui is ancestor of all Maoris. Named Milford sound pieu pieu after bird that finds land.

Flax plant used to make many things. It’s gooey substance good for burns.

Takes 2 years to make a cloak from flax.

Talks about uses of plants. Stories of his ancestors.

Lunch. Not our usual table by the window with Mario, but Lepnard gets us a window table nevertheless. Important as we pass along the Fjords in all their greenery, dropping gracefully into the sea. The chicken tortilla soup we both have is superb, tangy. I order the frito misto, not exactly sure what it is, (it’s fried fish pieces—well done)Bob has Brunswick chicken stew which he says is a favorite of Virginians (it’s not what he remembers from his youth but it’s more than adequate). His youth being his time as a professor at William and Mary—so this opens enquiries. Why did you leave? Etc.

We have fun talking about the impending karaoke and then Voice competitions, I lampooning the various clearly top competitors, the guy imitating Satchmo and shaking the hands of audience members as he sings It’s a Wonderful World and the woman with a walker singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow. My irreverent imitation has us both in tears/-of laughter. You gotta have a gimmick.

15 minute bites of The Girl With The Dragon Tatoo is more than enough to determine this is a stupid impenetrable movie, motorcycles and indecipherable intrigue prefacing the no doubt unspeakable violence I luckily chose to avoid in favor of watching the Fjords from our cabin and attempting to nap.

Much debate as to how many times we’ve seen this show, Stardust Memories. 6?7? Times?

Dinner—we get our window seat with Mario. R. Seafood soup. Yum. Bob. Vegetable Sushi. “Awful.” I taste and agree. We decide we’ll stick with Los Bacos can, the less expensive can we have s try is too thin. My lobster thurmidore is wonderful; bob likes his overly plentiful roast beef with popover and veggies great but . . . Overly plentiful.

FRIDAY APRIL 12. PORT CHALMERS, NEW ZEALAND.

 We’re the first for breakfast at 7 am which means that Leonard the Club Class Captain shows us to “our” table by the window with our server Mario. No doubt that we’ll have the Lumberjack (Mario saying back home they call it wink wink Lumberjock—Bob rolls his eyes when I say you think Mario is signaling that he’s gay. You think?) the steak and eggs breakfast special. Attention is danced on us the way we like it—Bob saying he can't go back to anything less than Club Class which necessitates my going over future budgets based on the sale of our last property—which sale is stalled because Leland, the Buyer, wants a $279,000 credit. Lots a luck, Leland. Looking out our window at the beautiful undulating hills of Port Chalmers.

Too long a wait in the casino for our tour group to be called—excuse being only so many busses can fit on the dock. And then it’s rainy out. Perhaps a good thing that ours is an inside tour of “Panoramic Dunedin”.

Shane is the tour guide. Brand new bus—you can smell it’s newness. Back to ship at 12 he says. Can stay in town. Victorian architecture. Founded 1848 by scots looking to escape persecution. We’re in a million year old volcano. Harbor big-14 miles wide. Not deep.

Leaves on trees about to fall—it is Autumn here. Railway station—Flemish architecture— most photographed after Sydney opera house. Bob likes the fine mosaic work, I The bas reliefs. Basalt and limestone.

No earthquakes here unlike Christchurch. Gold discovered here in 1861.

Maoris first. Then Europeans, then Chinese for mining.

Very hilly. “All Dunedans have muscular calves.”

Photo stop, Delphi’s Admiral Byrd looking due south over the crater of the volcano.  Pass high school students wearing uniforms—underclassmen wear shorts, upper, long pants, Jackets.

Trees everywhere. Early settlers imported trees that reminded them of home.

Robert Lawson major architect. Called a City of Literature. 20 of them in the world.

State of Timaru. Baldwin street—worlds steepest street. Each year they hold Ball Breaker race. Steeper then Longmore street in San Francisco.

3rd closest country to Antarctica. Hence Adm Byrd launched from here. Argentina closer.

University city. 20,000 students. U of otago. Ranks 150 academically in world out of 17000. First female  doctor and lawyer graduated. First women to vote (country) in the world—all in the 19th c.

Only albatross colony in world. Wing tip-to-tip 9 feet.

Stop to see the Presbyterian church that brought architect Lawson to Dunedin.

Recommends Wittigers chocolate over Cadberry’s. Last time we were here, Bob recalls we visited the Cadbury factory. Now import from East where labor cheaper.

Ours is last cruise ship of 77 this year. Then 1st of October. Ships visit 6 months a year.

1910. Ship came to port Chalmers. Scott went to South Pole. Lost to Norwegians to be first. Then Singleton and to Byrd.

Just the right way to visit Dunedin. It is telling that no one on the bus wants to hop off the bus and stay in the town. Intermittent rain seals the deal. Our driver/guide delivers us back at noon as promised. Yes rain. Happy for the warmth and dry of our 🚕 n and then Horizon court—alas no service-dining at lunch at a port stop. But there’s our very own Mario from our Club Class doing upstairs duty offering his services which include a couple of cabs to accompany our rather over plentiful fajitas—the plentifullness especially possible at the buffet.

Consequently it’s nap time in the Olin/Grinchuk household/cabin. Until I choose to don bathing suit and head up for a swim (pool closed) and similar blandishments. Bob joins me and as we walk along the upstairs deck, slick with rain, I fly— that is I slip big time and fall, my life as a man who in a similar gesture broke his rotator cuff, had serial surgeries and today lives with pain, that life flashing before me in a split second. Fortunately I do not fall on a limb but on my butt and also a good thing that a burly worker comes along in this lonely area of the ship, because Bob alone can’t lift me up. Also good thing that my next stop is the upstairs jacuzzi and steam room.

Nothing on offer in the daily Platter beckons and our only evening obligation being a complimentary dinner in Sabatinis restaurant (from our well-rewarded travel agency) we do what we’ve always done, that is watch MSNBC and have in-house martinis.

Of Sabatinis—a Comp from our travel agency and our last hurrah of the day—the (too) many courses along with our $43 Chianti—is as Bob puts it “high mediocre”. I’d eliminate the “high”.

SATURDAY, APRIL 13. TAURANGA, NZ.

Ah the now familiar comfort of our Club Class breakfast. I splurge (nasty carbs!) on a lox bagel treat, Bob the “very good” ham and cheese omelette.

Sitting (an improvement over yesterday) at the Texas Hold em table in the casino, for The inevitable wait for our tour “Scenic Akaroa by double decker bus” group to be called. Our tickets proclaim we’re a “tender port”. What fun.

1964 London double decker.

Adrian is our tour leader. Akaroa is a Maori name meaning long harbor. Captured by French in 1840. Whaling port earlier. Boil blood beer in pot. Pop from 700 to 7000 (tourism season).

Captain Langois. Thought

 He owned land. Brought people

 Over but after Brits who planted their flag. So became British colony. French stayed anyway. Some Germans too.

Also harbor formed by volcano. 6M years then eroded.

NZ pop 4.8M. 1/4 live in south island. Cabbage tree is really  a Lilly.

The little houses called batches because bachelors lived in them.

At one time 12 cheese factories. Now one.

First humans here 800 years ago. Birds. Had predators—eagles. Native Flightless birds. Maoris decimated them with their Rats and dogs.

Kakapo here 9 million years. So flightless birds decided to only come out at night to avoid predators.

NZ spending billions on eliminating pests. Over 70 million possums. Use 1080 poison—controversial.

Maoris

Mana—respect

Utu—revenge

Paramount chief away. Blamed wearing of cloak on lace. Didn’t fool chief. Feud. Ate enemies. Then traded flax To Europeans for guns.  1832 only 400 Maori left from 4000. Guns.

Haka—fearsome dance to scare other tribe.

In harbor smallest dolphin. Smallest penguin.

8 years ago 5 earthquakes. In 16 months period. Spent 35 billion so far on rebuilding.

I am overwhelmed by the natural beauty of this place.

Upstairs for swim and jacuzzi.

Cocktails in Vista.

Din din in club class. R. Cockalerkie soup. Surf and turf. Bob. Chicken paillard. “The presentation is the worst." 

SUNDAY APRIL 14. AT SEA

I guess we’re getting into winter. The sea is rough and gorgeous but Zumba even with the ad hoc ministrations of Tavo from Cabo it’s tough staying relatively steady. Big nap thereafter—the sale of items in one of the dining rooms yielding nada. Then a couple hours of nap thanks to my pain meds. Trade off. Pain or nodding off. Nodding off wins.

Lunch: R. Oriental fish soup quite good and a spaghetti and meatballs. Bad boy but satisfying. The pecan pie a la mode is to die. B.white bean soup not brilliant. Chicken salad with honey mustard dressing, no big deal. Bob’s pineapple trifle is not bad.

After our Elite group cocktails (martinis—we’re not doing the discount concoctions—screw the curasou and lime juice—and today’s special shrimp in profusion. Bob wonders what I’ll happen to the excess. The crew!—there’s the piano and cello couple in the cabaret lounge who are wonderful—the last we hear is Bohemian Rhapsody played to a farethewell before we must leave to find proper seats in the Princess Theatre.

Variety show with Pearson and Harvey who, we assume, are local favorites, just like you stop in a port and the chef gets the local fresh produce for the evening meal.

Dinner.  B. Lychee and watermelon. Cog Au vin. “Flavorful”. Rocky Road ice cream. R. Calamari and squid. Nice. Stroganoff. Not traditional but works. Dessert: Norman Love coconut chocolate. Not a pure rock of chocolate but a gelatin. Nevertheless lovely.

MONDAY APRIL 15. TAURANGA, NEW ZEALAND

Tax day where we’re 150K poorer but it’s really Sunday the 14th in San Diego so what the hell.

Lovely breakfast delayed while we watch, tearfully, Mayor Pete’s coming out :) as  presidential candidate. There he is embracing his husband. I kvel! I could plotz.

So many “good morning’s” as if the Club Cafe staff are really glad to see us and feed us. My salmon in my omelette needs more salmon—but then the chef is not my mother.

Feeling liberated that we haven’t booked a tour in TAURANGA so though we’ll never know the population number and history of the place (unless we read about it). But it looks like a busy day and we will explore—at least within a close radius of the ship.

It’s a truly beautiful place—all the SeaCats and the greenery and the mountain which, though we won’t climb at least we’ll do the periphery circuit—estimated 50 minutes—but 20 more minutes of hard but glorious walking—in Bob complains of a painful thigh cramp—back we go—when we return to Tauranga we’ll do the whole thing, I proclaim—and then I’m felled by um diarrhea—this one day one bowel thing and another day another thing is becoming a bummer.

Back on the ship for a brief break, we’re off again to the adjacent village (very upscale) for baby aspirin and multi-vitamins.

LUNCH

Horizons for lunch and glasses of red wine before the movie which I, not Bob, will attend.

1:30 Movie: Old Man and A Gun with Robert Redford, now wizened—where do the years go—don’t answer that!—as an inveterate bank robber and multi escapee from prison and Sissy Spacek as a woman he meets on the way and becomes fond of. Pleasurable. Great 👍 interactions  between the two.

4: Te Puawai Maori Folklore Show featuring the Haka.

Sounds like I’m in shul. Kyo Ora! The guys could use a nutrisystem or at least a lo carb diet. Enjoy the dedication to expressing their culture. There’s sure fire audience bonding when they ask for participation.

In room martinis and a TV cartoon movie—despicables—which to my shock Bob is enjoying.

DINNER

We both have mushroom soup. Lovely but not hot enough. R. Trout. Surprisingly good. Bob. Chicken breast. “Very good. Very big.”

7:45 Production Show: Let Me Entertain You. Performers, as usual, work hard to please but the disjointedness of the production disconcerts—what does one song have to do with another? Except that the girls and guys get to wiggle their cha chas.

9: Karaoke Power Night. Again a bust and this time Tavo forgets that I—looking for practice—have signed up. Probably just as well because I’ve chosen I Get A Kick Out if You, which I’ve never sung and there are too many crowd pleasing singers. But . . .

 TUESDAY APRIL 16. AUKLAND.

Pete has 90 minutes to “show you my city”. This is a first. Tour leaving before the appointed time. We rushing past disembarking passengers.

Population 1.6M. 1/3 of the entire population of New Zealand.

Downtown 1/3 Chinese. Pacific Islanders south. Moved to South Island in the 1840’s. 1860’s Europeans, hence Wellington becomes the capital.  Maoris arrived in 14th c. A capital 1840-1865.

Bastion point. Maoris protested 1980’s takeover by council. Returned land to lMaoris. Who gave it back to the country as a reserve.

Extinct volcanic cones. Passing mission bay. Site of an Anglican mission of 1840’s.

Houses very expensive. Average 1m NZ.

AUKLAND is an isthmus between 2 harbors, pacific and Tasman.

Education free and compulsory up to age 15. Many English language private schools.

“Trying to explain the rules of cricket to an American is like you trying to explain how your political system works.”

“Prostitution is legal but not compulsory.”

Much work going on to accommodate the underground railway system.

Nippon Clipon bridge.

Dinner. I manage to spill my wine and knock over my water glass. Mario, our waiter, and Roderick his assistant to the rescue. “Magic” says Mario.

The asparagus appetizer which we both have  is fabulous. I have the meatball Albondigas soupa, always lovely. And we both choose the Austrian Specialty—Vienna shnitzel rostbratten. Very good indeed.

WEDNESDAY APRIL 17. AT SEA.

We sleep the sleep of babes as the ship rocks us gently despite that the world outside is fraught with trouble.

Late breakfast so I fear I will lose my place at Zumba but I wedge my way into the 2nd row, to the unhappiness of those on either side of me, the large Chinese man to my right occasionally jabbing me out of spite I’m sure. Today it’s Sandra, the little dyke—one knows these things—and she’s good despite the ship rock and rolling in defiance.

It promises to be another lazy sea day (among many before we reach Tahiti) and we watch myriad speculations about the Mueller Report, about the chances of democratic candidates, the oft playing themes of MSNBC.

But lunch beckons. Bob enjoys his panini, with salami, tomato and especially artichoke hearts. Reuel’s Paella Valenciana with Spanish rice, shrimp, mussels, pork. squid, chorizo, and green peas—not a lot of each but they are all in evidence—really nice. Dessert: chocolate walnut slice—are you kidding?

Crazy Rich Asians. Yes I saw this movie but manage easily to enjoy it again. The glitz is mesmerizing. And the comic tropes are fun.

Searching for cocktails. First we try . . . 

Din din. It’s Italian night. We both have the minestrone soup. Bob the breaded stuffed chicken. He thinks the chicken is done beautifully, not fond of the stuffing. Says he wishes he could make chicken like that. I say keep at it. He: can an 80 year old man? — Yes I reply.  Reuel the veal scaloppini. (A little tough and I realize I’m not all that fond of veal scaloppini.) I like the sample (it’s plenty) of Leonard’s penne pasta that he makes in his pan. 

APRIL 18. THURSDAY 2. AT SEA

Much chaos. I’m up at 4 am to call at the pursers desk Don and then our insurance guy regarding the flood in 3102 I apartment and the $15,000 potential “restoration” bill from the service they called. Desk lady on duty is very helpful making the calls. “You are on vacation.” Yeah, sure. Then a note from the tenants indicating they accept just our cleaning person.

Feeling relieved consequently at Zumba where Wendy my Aussie friend tells me that Sandra the little dyke instructor will be leaving to marry her girlfriend.

Lecture on our next ports:

Several island groups.

Papeete. Arrive Easter Sunday.

Originally populated by immigration from Southeast Asia.

1760’s the 1st Europeans arrive.

French Polynesia 1922. Post WW2: Nuclear testing.

Tahiti and Papeete 75% of the population. French is the official language. American dollars and euros ok. Better—credit cards.

Downtown easy to get to and navigate.

Les 3 brassieres open all day. Try local beer.

Tahiti pearl market—10 minute walk.

Black pearls. Vanilla tea. Manor oil. Wooden products.

Day pass at hotel.  $80. $30 credit.

“Next time” I tell Bob.

MOOREA.

Originally Aimeho. Moorea means yellow lizard. Most idyllic of Society Islands with Bora Bora. High prices for overwater bungalows.

At the Tender dock is a small marketplace.

Les Tipanea beach has bar and restaurant. 10 minute drive.

Also hotel hibiscus. May have a shuttle to Les Petite village.

At the pool bar, bob says, how sophisticated you drinking a martini before noon. How drunk of me, is the reply. Okay so I have 2 martinis and Bob 3 count  ‘em chardonnays—it doesn’t matter in the greater scheme of things and I think we escaped a bullet on this potential rebuild of an apartment.

Lunch at Club Class nevertheless. Corn soup and Swedish meatballs (ho hum, rather too turgid ) for me and a roast beef sandwich for Bob. (He’s pleased.) Of course we need to consume the remaining half bottle of cab. Yikes. Dessert: Peach Melba it really isn’t but according to the Bobster, its of course fabulous.

Well in time for the afternoon karaoke and after a bathroom break where my name is called I reappear to sing I Get A Kick Out Of You and hooray I more or less kill it. Bob, despite that he needs also to run remains to witness my shtik tho it’s clear it’s not the kind of song that will win competitions.

Tonight the production show,? rock and roll, is staged in the V lounge where it is sufficiently glitzy and, to a packed crowd, works.

Dinner. Bob. Chicken “salad” appetizer which really is “a grave disappointment “. (He expected a chicken salad “not a chicken slice “ A vegetarian dish “korma”. Me: crab cake. Not a lot of taste. And salmon. Very nice. And a nice topper: Leonard’s Banana’s Forster which he puts together on his little table. Our next door couple are from San Antonio Texas. No rubes these. Drinking good wine and she wearing a gorgeous necklace (she admires my shirt which also demonstrates her sophisticated taste).

FRIDAY APRIL 19, AT SEA.

It’s Good Friday. I ask Bob why is it good if Christ dies. He, secular catholic, doesn’t know.

Again we’ve slept excessively well which we attribute to the gently rocking of the ship on the gently rocking sea.

Emails reveal that the tenants in the flood afflicted apt. are moving May 1. We don’t blame them.

Getting well into the overeating routine. When first boarding, I was chaste—I couldn’t have a bite of a dangerous piece of carb. Now not only an eggs Benedict—don’t spare the English muffin—but a lovely buttered whole wheat muffin. Help! Perdition and a thickening waist. Oh . . Well.

Zumba it’s Tavo again, essentially jumping around. Bring back Sandra. Back asking Bob what’s going on. He says he just got up from his nap. Ah. The sweet life.

It looks like Anthony Hopkins will take any gig that shows up from Gosford Park to this film we’re watching Under the Stars (except it’s morning): The Last Indian—this against our best intention of walking around the upper deck. The thing grabs us in— a picaresque, Hopkins as an aging and infirm New Zealander on his way with his motorcycle to race it at Bonneville Salt Flats. On the way he meets all sorts of Americana types, including a transvestite—which drew us in. Everyone loves the old coot and he wins a world record despite all believability—and just before the credits it’s 12 o’clock and the captains inscrutable 10 minute message.

No choice since the walking deck is stupidly “closed”--why? We must sit at the bar, watch the Rolling Stones (gathering no moss) in Cuba concert (they’re ancient but skinny) and um drink--seems we’ve done this before?— chards and martinis. The sea is a dark purple, the clouds hover unobtrusively and life is g o o d.

Despite being sufficiently potted we descend to Lunch and our remaining half bottle of Substance cab. There’s spring rolls (“very good”) for Bob and stuffed peppers (excellent) for moi. Main: (yes this is only lunch) tagiarini pasta for Reuel—fab--and a beef pot pie for Bob—he likes. Next time they offer you mandarin yogurt ice cream, take it!

Sun  on the face on the balcony.

Upstairs for the elyptical and as it turns out a BBC program with Dame Shirley Bassey on the machine's tv—engrossing, wonderful and a respite from the news of responses to the Mueller report.

The evening show features a very talented singer—we’ve heard him before. All the shows actually are Good to excellent.

And the food—din din now—the same. My pate appetizer is a wonder. Bobs soup as usual Luke warm. We wait—they’re slammed—for our mains, much to Bobs annoyance. Bob loves his penne—bemoans it’s calories. My surf and turf ok. I complain to Leonard, our head waiter, that the quality of the filet is wanting. He agrees. Dessert: we both enjoy the sache torte and have a sweet remembrance of tasting it in Vienna.

Ah but then aft 9 it’s the deck dance party. Leis, music and general mayhem. We dance, dance, dance—a grand time. And later, back in our cabin we find ourselves watching a great film we’ve seen before but worth rewatching, Groundhog Day with Bill Murray and Andie McDowell. A good day . . . Worth revisiting again . . . And again.

SATURDAY APRIL 20. AT SEA

After breakfast—bagel with salmon, not lox mind you. Zumba but there is Tavo from Cabo again-/flailing about. Next for us on this lovely day—it’s getting balmy outside—is High Society, the oft watched musical movie based on the incomparable Philadelphia Story. Bloody Mary’s with Grace Kelly, Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra and life is good. At lunch my gazpacho is excellent. Bob likes his tortellini and I my chef’s salad. Dessert: Bob—blueberry roulade; Reuel—honeydew yogurt.

Movie: South Pacific. Longer than we remember—started at 3 and we’re outta there after 5, necessitating the last of our vodka martinis in-room before we make it to our usual front rows seats for the Princess theatre show--this time Chris Gilbert again, he with the piano, sax and clarinet. Excellent performance.

Thence to Club Class dining room and s bit of a wait —da noive!— for Substance CS cab wine, spring rolls (would you like some fresh pepper? Huh? No.) dipping sauce wonderful; and prime rib.

Then after we’ve finished our meal Mario (who was not our server this time—Mariah was) comes by with his pad-“May I take your order please.”— his little joke—fun! Reuel. Sugar free mango cheesecake. (Very gelatinous and disappointing.) Bob. Chocolate chip ice cream. ( not rich and creamy but good nevertheless.)

  

MONDAY APRIL22. MOREA, FRENCH POLYNESIA.

Up later. It’s a lazy morning—our tour isn’t until this afternoon. And the dining room is almost empty when we arrive after 8 am—likely most folks have already gone ashore. The Bellini lady comes by and we order mimosas, Bob vowing to get us snonkered in the morning. Not bloody (Mary) likely.

Reuel needs a swim and hooray the water is acceptably cool—not freezing as before. 30 lengths .jacuzzi and then upstairs for the sauna.

Maddy is guide for this island of the yellow lizard. We are in the village of ? This morning’s tour was rainy. We’ll traverse the island on its only road 35 miles. Tahiti is double this size.

Many legends. Maoria was Imaiah. Couple tried to have a baby--finally pregnant. Had dream of having an egg. It was a yellow lizard. Hid it. Became huge. Left for Tahiti. When lizard woke up decided to swim after them, tired. Fishermen saw him—named him Morea.

Many movies filmed here including Mutiny on the Bounty, South Pacific. Imported Chinese to work cotton plantations. Heading toward the Belvedere.

Many pine and acacia trees. School farm has many student from many islands. Return home on weekends. Stay up to 3 years. Learn farming. . . . Close call with another bus.

Pop 17,500. With visitors 20,000. Moana movie—researches here. Polynesians are from the triangle of the Pacific. N Zealand, Hawaii, here. Almost Same language. Alsace Maraes.

Many mango and breadfruit tres. Always have something to eat.

Panoramic vid from the Belvedere. Biggest Marae in Rhohotora island near Bora Bora—hour flight.

Marae—tea leaves are sacred plant. Rods bad spirits. Also to cook Tahitian pudding—stuffed meat. Decoration.

Columbus discovered pineapple plant in South America.

.Maddy shows us leaves, including breadfruit which we also get to touch.

Stop to look out over the Sofitel hotel. $800 per night.

Noni fruit for vitamins, medicinal.

We’re back at 3:45. What to do? There’s sail away—viewing that extraordinary scenery.

Sky walkers for a couple of martinis (some cheeses and Reuel snatches  a piece of salmon.) 

Early at the Princess Theatre for the lady hypnotist's show. We note that her hemline could be longer but she does s good show—embarrassing as many passenger volunteers as possible. 

TUESDAY APRIL 23. AT SEA.

The Mexican eggs are a bit rubbery this morning but it’s balmy outside and promises to be for the balance of our trip as we count down 5 sea days until Hawaii.

Zumba. It’s tall Aussie Mark who leads. He’s wonderfully effeminate. I can imagine him doing drag to a T. Not pretty but salty. And he’s actually doing Zumba steps.

 Both of us are upstairs on the machines where we can continue to watch MSNBC.

Lunch. Bob—a (just adequate) Waldorf salad with, strangely, prosciutto. Reuel a consommé with tiny matza balls. Not like mother used to . . . But. Our mains: Bob, continuing the Jewish tradition has latkes, which are shredded and terrible but paired bizarrely with onion rings which are “wonderful”—go figure. My Salad Nicoise has all the appropriate ingredients and is fine.

Reuel takes a swim in the ever rocking water splish splash of the indoor pool (water sports occurring in the outdoor one). Only 20 lengths possible but swimming against the sea has gotta be beneficial.

Then after a cognac for Reuel and a Chardonnay for Bob on the ever-lovely time warp Skywalkers lounge we descend to the heavily populated Explorers Lounge where Reuel will be contestant number ten at the Voice auditions. I sing I Get A Kick Out Of You, Bob says very well—who knows. But there are others singing more approachable songs and you only get to vote for one contestant and there are fan groups so . . .  not looking good but hey I tried.

Dinner — Hits and misses as always. Bob tropical cal fruit cabob (fruit on a stick and a cream sauce that is delicious but rather too dessert-like; veal cordon blu. Reuel - oysters Rockefeller and Lobster Thermador. Both really really terrific. We both have hazelnut ice cream—it’s lovely.

We wonder about the terribly sophisticated European couple who carry around a decanter of wine with them. Ah club class.

Bob returns to our cabin and I head down to the theatre for the main show — a female singer—not as populated as the early shows, a nice to know fact if one has the stamina to make it at this late hour (9:45 show start). This gal’s almost manically energetic, has a good voice, but chooses some esoteric songs—I should talk.

WEDNESDAY APRIL 24. AT SEA.

Laundry out. We’ll see when it comes back. Breakfast. Me lumberjack—can’t resist a manly breakfast.

I abandon Bob finishing his eggs to run early to Zumba. The ladies have marked their spots anyway. Marc again.

Look up the morning film. Adam Sandler score 18%. Yikes. Great crowd in the Bernini dining room for the so-called Hawaii sale. Huge checkout line. Fagetiboutit!

At the Neptune Pool—the campy indoor one with fishy creatures swimming up blue tiled columns which hold up a presumably retractable roof contraption—a spicy margarita for Bob and a 24 K Gold Margarita for moi: 1800 Reposado tequila. Contreau, Grand Marnier and, as an afterthought, margarita mix. And soon it’s 11 am—a bit late for such libations.

Nap and relax time thrown in with a little sun time on the balcony—Ari Melber opining in the background

Bob notes a few things. 1. That people look really old on this trip “though I’m old.” I say that he doesn’t look old even though he’s ceased dying his hair a few years ago. He protests that there’s not enough to bother. I reply that the hair he has is becoming whiter. He says it’s the light from the ocean, true. I say he needs to instruct his lighting director. 2. That the butter has diminished, started out as rosettes, then little squares, now wrapped pieces. Oh the desolation.

Of Bob’s Reuben, “it’s a corned beef sandwich made by a white anglo Saxon Protestant  housewife in Dubuque.” My chicken Caesar salad is sufficiently spare.

Gotta move the recently reclining and napping body-so up for a half hour elyptical  workout.

Then finding a place to see the inevitably silly crossing the equator ceremony.

At Skywalkers elite hour we sit across from the buffet line—very busy, no other seats to be had—and watch with mock disapproval the ever increasing line of food gatherers until I join them to gather Bob’s evening pretzel and some cheese.

Dinner. We insist on Mario and Roderick‘s section. So all that the ever affable Leonard can offer is at the edge of our Club Class section where we can’t help but look out at the poor people in the general dining section. Bob is upset but I think he’ll get over it when the wine  (our new favorite—Footbolt Shiraz) is poured. The sorbet intermezzo (lovely but why) follows the mushroom soup (which Bob consistently and staunchly maintains is not hot enuf.) Roderick pours the wine and says something incomprehensible but a giggle and a smile is all that’s required on both sides of the linguistic divide.

The evening menu fails to delight so Bob (chicken) and I (salmon) go with those everyday selections that we frankly enjoy.  Mario—our server—says he eats salmon here every day—it’s very expensive in the Philippines. I let him know that it’s my breakfast staple back home.

  

 THURSDAY APRIL 25. AT SEA.

Breakfast

Zumba

Movie under the stars Funny Face

Bob sits away from the sun

I’m upstairs taking too much sun. The movie is a lovely friend. I feel bliss especially after I’ve secured a Bloody Mary to sip to those great old tunes, S’wonderful.

Lunch is ridiculously good.

Reuel. Salmon mousse in a tomato cup. Heaven.

London beef broil. Brilliant. They got it right!

Bob. Salad, Mostaciolli with broccoli, ham and tomatoes. “Excellent. Rich, hearty. Sauce!”

The dessert is a simple ice cream surrounded by slices of strawberries. “I was hoping for something more elaborate but it’s only lunch,” says Bob. What have we become?

Siesta. Hanging about the room.

Dressing up for formal night and thence to one lounge for 007’s—martinis to the uninitiated—and a very funny comedian—a lot of wife jokes—but he’s funny anyway. And then to the theatre for Delgado—a youngish guy who plays a mean trumpet—different styles.

Thence to the Club Class dining room where we are treated like the royalty we are—Leonard and Christine at the door and then Mario and Roderick ministering to our wants at the table. We both have the onion soup—a dish that often doesn’t work—here it’s superb—and beef medallions—especially good. Ok I have the chocolate journey dessert—don’t judge and Bob the ice cream—Mario drops off some cookies just because.

Time to flee back to our cabin, not stopping off at the 2nd night of Voice auditions—I’m not getting chosen anyway. Bob says I sang really well and that’s . . . Almost good enough for me.

SATURDAY APRIL 27. AT SEA.

Breakfast

Mario is missing. I hear Mareia telling Leonard that he went for orange juices. Leonard: “Did he go outside to buy it?” A wag.

Zumba where I let Wendy know that I’m still contagious. I am— up a lot of the night congested and just generally feeling poorly.

We buy hop on off tickets for tomorrow’s Honolulu trip. A little more tricky than the usual tour but we’ll be brave.

11:15 Lecture on the Madrid bombing. Bob passes. I think I heard this guy on another trip—or at least another forensic scientist.

He says the lecture is about fingerprints starting off other the Bombing in 2004.

American attorney arrested. His fingerprints found. FBI said 100% certain. Wrong. He Sued and got 2M. Argued against patriot act.

Why happened? Incompetence? (Pressure)

Background? Coincidence theory.

History. Sir Francis Galton 1882 first fingerprinting. Unique classification. Whorls. Loops—non value patterns.

Late 20th c fingerprint ID. Used superglue.  Now can Match fingerprints in seconds.

Lunch. Bottle of the $32 Chardonnay. I taste and say it’s fine. Bob says you’re very discriminating. I reply, “I discriminate against high prices.” Later verdict, “it’s remarkably uncomplex.” Fresh pepper? (No I’ll have stale pepper.) edem cheese soup. We like. R.  Nasi gorem. Well it’s sort of exotic—remember liking it a lot in Thailand. Bob not thrilled with his chicken salad and that it’s not nasi gorem).

Gym. Fixated on a British spy spoof movie starring Rowan Atkinson doing his smart fool shtik keeps me on the elyptical too long for us to go to the boring Captain’s party (which we don’t like anyway).

6:45–Theatre. We’ll be very early so we order double vodkas to take to the theatre along with our reading material. The singer I saw earlier. She’s a dynamo, a terrific entertainer.

Dinner. Busy as we approach 8 pm. Most of the club Class people seem to have bottles of wine. Good crowd. It’s Italian night. (a waiter dressed in green stripes sings "o solo mio" as we’re having our antipasto).

I’m having the seafood antipasto (beautifully plated and is great) and the Filetto di Trota di Lago alla Borromea (sautéed rainbow trout, lemon sage butter, baked zucchini, parsley 🥔. Bob is chicken fixated, soup “good, very flavorful, lentil”--and I thought it was chicken) and Saltimboca. Bob notes that this evening is. . . I interrupt “a little wacky”.  He Says, “filled with large people.” “Even in Club Class?” Yes.

Dessert. Reuel: Mario recommends pana cota. Shakes and says it shakes like flan. I shake and say pana cota it is. It arrives , I taste and cry out “This is pleasure!”Bob: semi credo? (Ice cream) Good. Not exceptional.

SUNDAY APRIL 28. HONOLULU, HAWAII

Duh. Should have anticipated that there’d be a mile long line by the time we are ready to go through customs at 7: am for our 7:20 appointment. At 7:15 an announcement, immigration is not on board yet. WHAT? Our hope was to have a sit down if you please breakfast before boarding our hop on off bus before 8:50. Remember this for the world cruise when we’ll be back next January (2020). And there are the customs folks prancing on board at 7:30.

However, God’s be praised, as Americans since—apparently Hawaii is, strange to say, American we are whisked past all of the. Aussies and NZ’s and other foreign types and are soon boarding the red trolley and after a while deposited at the trolley terminal , . , only to wait for at least an hour for the green trolley, the purple one doing the island circuit having just departed.

What fresh hell??? Thanks to Dorothy Parker—words uttered on the human misery trolley we have the misfortune to be on.

Hard seats, crowds, can’t get off until the living end with few worthy sights—lots of middle class housing.

And then once deposited at the terminal I ask what is the fastest way to get to our boat? Please. That’s another red trolley due back at 11:30. Time to visit the neighboring department store and buy a cup big enough for tea that says some nihilist statement like Aloha Or Nothing. Perfect to match the mood.

But strangely the final red trolley does provide an interesting tour—with vistas and a jazzy driver auditioning it would seem as a disc jockey—and after another hour deposits us at the cruise terminal.

Hungry now. (Were supposed to eat every two hours.) we find pizza slices by the upstairs pool, Bob pepperoni,Reuel a Hawaiian concoction.

After some time that pool becomes the scene of Reuel swimming 30 lengths and jacuzzing it under the movie screen—this time a repetitive slide show of Firenze.

Sure enough. We order an extra round of 007’s to see the ship off at 6:30 and at 6:45 sure enough there's an announcement: ”Mr and Mrs Craig please contact”. . . Fuckers are fucking everyone up big time-us in particular.

Feeling piquant after those 2 martinis each for din din and order the crown grill steak (added cost of course) with all kinds of sauces which need to be enumerated at length on ordering from Mario. Bob chooses the pasta after the chicken satee appetizer (Luke warm and the peanut sauce isn’t peanuttty enough. Me scallops. Neat. Lots of them. And bacon bits make a nice foil.

We get a lesson in being demanding; Leonard tells bob his complaint about warm chicken satay should be followed up by demand for new heated ones and Reuel refuses the Crown grill steak because it isn’t rare. Much fuss. Yes, we are not to be messed with . . . and we have dessert. Consequently?

MONDAY APRIL 29. HILO

Leonard snatches Bob’s eggs and bacon away from him despite his protest after he expressed ambivalence about its hotness. I remind him that he’s acting contrary to his expressed displeasure last night that his food needs to be hot. And Leonard reminds him that he’s there to respond to his every whim. Ah the responsibility.

We’ve booked a morning tour. Sitting on the bus waiting for the go-ahead for 3 missing tour-goers. The other bus left 20 minutes  ago.

Dennis tour guide/driver. Broken English. East side of state of Hawaii is Hilo—largest city. Pass spring water and Blanton trees planted in 1930’s. Planted by celebrities. One by Amelia Earhart. Others, Babe Ruth and Cecil B. Demille. Passing Hilo Bay.

Mona Loa (long mtn.) and mono kaia (white) mountain. 14k ft.  But 18k below surface.

Kamemamea 1810 unified Hawaii.

Hilo town developed in early 1900’s, 20’s 30’s. Hilo means 1st net of new moon, to twist, always Polynesia navigator. Many meanings for words.

Aloha—word of comfort, kindness. Morality—thank you

Surfing part of daily living from the time of settlement.

Start with waterfall, then zoo. Last stop at nut house. Ohana means family. 821 is our coach.

California nearest land mass. Neighbors.

Dennis points out trees nd plants like dug cane, lemon trees, lTaro Out Of which nutritious poi is made.

Little waterfall is Kahuna, big Akaka. 45 minutes. Bob takes the “short walk”, I the long. ( Bob maintains that his walk was long too.) lots of steps, views of rain forest plantings and the falls (plural). Akaka means clear water.

A melting pot. Hawaii many interracial marriages. Sugar 1820’s, pineapple 830’s. Now no sugar industry. Tourism #1. Along the road red and yellow flowers are African tulips.

Tsunami—1946 generated in Alaska—5 hours to get to Hawai’i. 1960 generated from Chile. 35 ft.

Hilo known as hula capital of world. Festival.

We see a sign saying Dump Trump. A reminder Hawaii is a US state and has Marist Hirono as a senator. “One tough broad,” I note to Bob.

Rainy side of island, 120 inches of rain. "Us" is rain, "la" is sun. Schools function all year round.

Only tropical rain forest zoo in us. “Sweet little zoo” is the verdict. Also an array of flora along the trail as we discover a variety of animals who bite according to the warning signs —talented of them inasmuch as they (and we) are protected behind mesh cages.

Dennis shows us a ti leaf. Now I understand it’s not “tea”.

Macadamia nuts are from Queensland Australia. The farm is 2500 acres. 200,000 trees. As we approach we realize we’ve been here before and remember the self-guided tour of the factory which when we last visited was operating and busy, this time closed so all that’s available is-surprise-the shop where . . . we buy a few things, chocolate covered nuts for Bob, tea for Reuel and some other impulse things.

State tree—kukui—candlenut tree. Serve as laxatives. (I’m always interested in this kind of info.) Macadamia nuts harvested 4-5 times a year. 1 tree can yield 1200 pounds of nuts.

This island formed by 5 major volcanoes. Native bird nene. Trigger fish. Black coral is gem. Yellow hibiscus. 1959 became 48th state.

We decide to get drinks at the pool bar to bring to the buffet lunch but Ronillo, the bartender there recognizes us and says he’s been holding most of a bottle of white wine for us for a week. So we’ve got something real to consume with lunch. Constrained by lunch choices, its Horizons buffet and a test of will power in the face of too many choices.

REUEL swims 50 count em 50 lengths in the outdoor deck 14 pool—in the  rain but without rock and rolling since the ship is on the verge but not yet departing for its final lap to LA. Water in Jacuzzi is warm so I don’t soak long and it’s downstairs shortly for a shower as a band singer serenades . . . Me.

We both Nap as usual until it’s getting ready for the evening.

Martinis at Vines which is actually a wine bar so the bartender has to go far afield for our 007’s  and returns without spilling a drop. That’s our kind of guy.

The show. Bob; “The singer was fine but boring.” B-list type guy with pre-performance film detailing his accomplishments as a stand in and warm up for big acts. Very smooth. Not fond of most of his musical selections.

Dinner. As we enter Club Class, the woman leaving says “Take the Strogonoff!” With that recommendation, we do after soup (my gazpacho is delicious) . The Strongonoff is ok, not stupendous.  Comfort food however is comforting. “Amazing” dessert we both agree.

WEDNESDAY MAY 1.

May Day is real. We watch a president, ours, succeeding at eating away our democracy. AG Barr giving corrupt testimony before a Senate committee. Evil at work is riveting. Delicious breakfast—banana pancakes, excellent Zumba with Sandra, all give way to the ultimate evil we see in our cabin on the tv—human shields for the corrupt president.

But we go to lunch anyway. We must soldier on. Reuel has an appetizer, New Zealand green shell mussels, “wonderful” I remark to Bob that I don’t ordinarily have this for lunch at home. We laugh. “Ever.” Bob doesn’t have an appetizer, I tell Mario that he keeps taking our utensils away (this is a constant process). He says “I give you the big one—for the main course”. Okay. Reuel has a sauted red snapper, no personality but the sauce transforms it nicely; Bob chicken korma, looks unappealing but tastes “actually good”. We enjoy our “family” of servers in Club Class. (I have been warning Bob that we chose-on advice of the future cruise woman on the Pacific Princess—not to be Club Class on the world cruise. Preparing him for the diminution of status.

Lost key.

Continuing to catch glimpses of AG’s contemptuous and contemptible testimony.

A half hour of elliptical pedaling in the gym permits me to continue to watch MSNBC.

Our server in Skywalkers gives us an extra pair of martinis gratis (as Bob notes it’s getting close to cruise end and tips are in the offing).

The evening show: Comic juggler is terrific. Never thought I’d utter those words but this guy’s a natural, skilled and funny.

Dinner. Leonard the snatcher snatches Bobs pea soup before he’s finished. Quite good by the way and just right considering the ship is freezing.

Bob’s jerk chicken is smothered in a chocolate-like sauce. Nah. My Curtis stone seafood dish offers lots of shells with tiny pieces of meat inside. Nah. (Though the broth is tasty. ) Yes Key lime pie!

THURSDAY MAY 2.AT SEA

Getting closer to home.

I’ll have a favorite—I’ll be damned—bagel, salmon and cream cheese. A prelude to Zumba where Tavo at least has more energy, a little manic actually—(I’ll have what he’s having.) 

Early for lunch so we have Ronillo at the Calypso bar by the pool serve us some libations—Bob a glass of Chardonnay, Reuel a martini—ok since it’s afternoon (1 minute after noon to be exact).

"A MATTER OF SEX"--YOUNG RGB EVOLVES INTO OUR JUSTICE

Lunch. We choose a bottle of Spellbound petit Syrah—a favorite at yesterday’s wine tasting. Accompanying chefs salads.

Too much sloth, naps et al so Reuel rushes upstairs to do 30 lengths in the pool against furious waters, some jacuzzi time and then a little sun preventing me from clearly seeing one of the gorgeous Hemsworth brothers showing off as Thor in one of those numbingly pyrotechnically violent movies “under the stars” under the sun.

Theatre. 2nd row, 45 minutes early for the production show, “Born To Dance” and there’s standing room 15 minutes before. There’s Les, our single (ladies man) Australian friend, resplendent in a Thai custom made red suit and shoes. Very well traveled. Prefers American women (dress better) to his native Aussie ladies. Large screen showing Times Square . And surprise the show is fabulous.

Dinner. R. Escargot bourguinons. A treat. Bob’s rice paper dish is . . . Ok. “I’ll never have it again.” I Get two lobsters cause I can and know from experience that one is tiny. Set in a delicious risotto. Life’s good. Bobs ribs as expected which means not thrilling. (Closing the dining room.) Dessert: today’s “chocolate journey” is a chocolate pistachio dome with almond and pistachio nougatine.

(Sublime!!) Bob a sundae (on Thursday).

FRIDAY MAY 3. AT SEA

Probably a very good thing that I’m not competing in the Voice contest tonight because I wake up rheumy and coughing and coughing. Medications don’t seem to help much. This “thing” doesn’t want to go away. Begone.

Yes it’s the last full day of this trip. In sum Princess has provided an excellent experience. 

Bob has loved his James Beard French toast so I try it this morning—with ham.

Early to Zumba and still legions waiting to pounce upon the dance floor: there’s Wendy, my faithful Zumba companion. I ask how she travels while working. She gets 4 weeks vacation and takes an additional four weeks all with her husband who is semi-retired in the air force reserve. Glad it’s Sandra for my last Zumba class on this trip because she really provides a terrific class.

Wendy promises to take my photo swimming (she saw me yesterday and couldn’t fathom how I could swim in such cold water) at 4. We’ll see.

Next up is the always enjoyable cooking show with the maitre d’ and the chefs. The usual shenanigans and banter. The tour of the kitchen. Great carvings—always a premium feature of these tours.

Lunch: chicken tortilla soup (not what I expected but damned good) and frito misto platter. (I keep forgetting it’s fried) Bob chimichanga and an Italian pasta selection sedanini (has basil in it and he likes basil).

DNA Lecture. 23rd pair of chromosomes determines sex. 23 pairs of chromosomes in a human cell. 23 and me/google. Genetic heritage where your gender comes from vs genealogical heritage— where ancestors come from. Markers ancestors leave. Y chromosomes makes male. Mothers pass on mitochondrial dna. We all belong to hundreds of groups—haplogroups.

Chroma color soma body.

Assay 100,000’s Of different variants.

Police go to these cos for DNA analyses. Can convict someone in your family—or something you did. Need court order. Caught gold state rapist.

Privacy concerns with familial DNA searches. Law enforcement can request them. Can get family member in trouble. Ruin reputation.

We tend to run back to our cabin after each event to catch the latest outrages of the White House. Tear ourselves away to hear the passénger choir—always not repaying the effort though the participants seem to be enjoying themselves. This eventuates in our finding a bar where bob chooses a Tequila Sunrise which has the aura of the tropics but “is (Bob) no substitute for a vodka martini”.  Earlier I asked what kind of drink he’d like. “Something gay . . . Like champagne with little rosettes.” To which I say club class has elevated his taste.

Packing . . . 

The Voice show which I am not participating in and, that, as it turns out is a good thing because I would not have fared well against the competitors who include guys with gimmicks like the white guy imitating Louis Armstrong and fat women with lusty voices.

Dinner

Seafood terrine for me. Watermelon and feta for Bob. Both delicious.

For the mains we go safe from the general menu. Me— salmon, Bob the chicken—we love it. Apparently we missed the 8:15 staff dance with the baked Alaska’s (we’ve seen it) but we have it anyway. I ask Mario to dance when he serves it, and he does.

Give out tips (this in addition to the $29 a day we have been billed) to our steward, Melvin, and in the dining room to Mario our server and Roderick his assistant and Leonard the head waiter. Boyz being bountiful.

Then it’s standing room (for us) only for the 9:45 crew show which is sort of fun. I especially like the juggling girl and boy bartenders. Feeling really good about our cruise. Then on the way out I hear a thump behind me and horror it’s Bob who has fallen down the steps. We lift him up, he sits on a nearby bench and says he’s okay let’s see the balloon drop. Fine. Rhythmic fun. He even joins me dancing. The he notes he’s bleeding. We go back to the cabin and apply ice. Oy. . . .