You Can't Make Me Paint

The day is March 8, 2014.  It is possible for cruisers not to know what day it is, even the the Daily Schedule announces the day, the temperature and lists possible things to do.  To read the list was overwhelming.  I began to cross of choices I would not take.  One was Painting with Watercolours. 

“You can’t make me paint,” I said to Wyona.  “I tried that on two cruises.  I was so happy the choice wasn’t here on this trip.  And now they have it in the bulletin.  A big no from me.”

I was right about making a choice that was in my best interess and this morning I knew that choice was to get out and walk the deck, to catch up on that good feeling that only a brisk walk can bring.  I tried to sneak out the door, putting my exercise clothing on in the bathroom so as not to wake Wyona and Greg.

I was successful getting my first leg in the pants I was wearing.  The second I tried while leaning against the vanity.  The four foot waves outside gave the boat a lurch and I slid toward the shower.  No problem, I would just slide down the wall of the shower door.  No door there, unfortunately.  Only a shower curtain that gave way.  I made the fall as quietly as possible, no sound passing my lips but thinking, wow, that was a lot of weight to hit the ground just now.

The noise must have bolted sleeping Wyona right out of bed. Greg was also upright when I came out of the bathroom to tell them, no, I was still conscious, just embarrassed to have wakened them. I slipped right out the door. 

This is a different cruise.  Different people in the dining room, ones I have not noticed before in the lectures and now on deck at 8 am.   It is not the professional joggers on deck.  Only people like me.  Walking for good health. Someone doing tai chi stretches in one of the corners. All of us walking gingerly over the wet parts of the deck where the ship maintenance workers are keeping the windows and walks clean with their hoses and squeegies.  I try not to look at my watch, but to keep walking, stretching tall and tightening muscles in the back and front of my body – holding them, then giving them a soft relax as I walked.  The soft relax feels better than the real exercise.

An hours walk was up and I headed for the cabin, but saw some people already going to the Constellation Lounge.  Even though dressed in my exercise wear and with wind-blown hair, still I wanted to know what would be going on so early in the morning.  Which is the reason why I walked into the Painting with Watercolours class.  The teacher was starting in a class really for beginners.  I stopped to watch her pedagogue which was so artful.  The second time she said, “Now does anyone else need a kit?”, I raised my hand. 

Now I have a picture of a glacier.  Done by me.  Not a glacier that Greg could recognize, but Wyona got it on her first try.  I am prouder than punch.  Third time with water colours, the charm.

Bedtime Stories in China

 ...charming tourist market in Tianjinn ...

Wyona and I were too tired to read our emails a couple of days ago.

But we agreed we could listen if they were read to us as a bedtime story for us.

Greg agreed to read.  We listened. That worked.

Last night, just as we were going to sleep we begged for more stories.

Greg studying the streets in the market
We must go back to do them justice.

With no book in hand, he free-lanced and asked if we knew what three ingredients make China so successful today.

Was it the opium balls, I guessed, since I had gone to the lecture on how the opium wars had nearly destroyed China. Greg, who had also been at that lecture, said he wasn’t thinking along that line, but he had three other things to share.

... detail from ceiling of market building ...

The Chinese dictator in the 1980’s who opened up the way for there to be a Chinese business class – that was one important event. Having a single party system in China, that helps to get a lot done. There is no opposition getting in the way of progress. The third item making China successful is an inexhaustible supply of labour. Without hardly a pause between Greg’s last word in that sentence, and the beginning of the next sentence, Wyona seemed to be interrupting him. She was not interrupting him, for she said to me, would you believe Greg is already asleep.

No kidding, I said, waiting for Greg to pipe up. A long silence. You have got to be kidding!

“Yes,” said Wyona. “ I could tell he was dosing off when his words became slower and more carefully articulated. He is way under right now. Our laughing is not going to wake him up. I hope you can remember what he said for it is over now.”

... vendor in the market ...

I didn’t care if Greg goes to sleep in the middle of the bedtime stories. I learned three important things about China from him– more than I can remember from the volumes I was reading before I left on this trip.

Greg is a fantastic travelling companion. He can gives deeper, more academic lectures than the ones we hear on the boat. All he has to hear is a question asked and see an interested listener.

Greg? Why am I seeing so many shipping containers and no factories. This is going on for miles and miles. Maybe 20 minutes now.

Greg? Why are there so many road fly overs and round abouts and no vehicles using them -- no private vehicles on them, and no semi’s? 

She is as interested in me, as I am in her.

Greg? How did you know the exact spot on the street where the incident with the tank took place just before Tienanmen Square?

Greg? How do you know which line on the subway we should be taking? And how did you spot the entrance to the underground.

Greg? Why are the police stopping all of those kids at the bottom of the escalator and demanding to look at their passports? 

Greg has an answer for everything. For the last question, he reminded me that Chinese people are not free to travel in their own country, as we are. They have documents that tell them where they can go and where they cannot go.

A privilege to travel with Greg.

Arta

Woodhaven Park

The walk from Rebecca’s house to the underground is all downhill. To make things even easier than that, Wyona and I have downsized our luggage since the first cruise, but remember we left for 59 days – which is a lot of luggage to get into 2 suitcases.  And we are in every kind of weather – London winter and the heat of the November Mediterranean. The major downsizing occurred when trying to leave Barcelona last time.  You can check on-line if you have extra baggage and it costs $50 for that second piece. Since we didn’t do that, we were going to be charged by the pound for that suitcase:  $300. No matter how Wyona tried to negotiate, the price was firm.  We took our luggage close to a garbage can and began to divest ourselves of anything that seemed superfluous:  pocket-sized hand lotions, back-up shoes in case our first pair of walking shoes got wet, previous papers reminding us of where we had been.  And if the items were heavy and small they went to our handbags.  Wyona, who is good at estimating weight, said she was sure her handbag weighed 35 pounds at that point, but they don’t weigh those.  Then back we went to pay for the extra suitcase which was now down to $158 – a lesson learned.  The agent had to give just one last warning to her, saying, your carrying ons are also the wrong size.  In Europe we have smaller restrictions and we don’t honour the North American Standards, he said.  Suitably chastised we will make sure neither of those mistakes happen again.  Too costly.    

This is our first time on Royal Caribbean’s Independence of the Seas. Thirty-eight hundred people were trying to get on the ship at the same time, which is doable if the boat’s computers have not gone down.  If so, then there is a two block line-up outside of the terminal, after which there is a line that snakes for 18 columns back and forth before it turns a corner and that that crowd of people is out of sight.  No end to it.  The serpenting row leads you past the same people, line after line, until you know them well: which ones are carrying their formal clothes over their arms so as not to have them wrinkled, which couples have dressed to the nines just for the getting onboard experience, and which groups have come, either as family or friends.  And I saw one hideous scarf so many times that it began to look beautiful to me.  Greg says that the British are good at cuing, that they line up and then are jocular as they wait for their turn at the final counter.  He is right.  They make their standard jokes with each other. I keep falling behind in the cue.  I do not know how I can get 4 people behind in less than a few seconds.  At one point Wyona lifted barrier, told me to duck under and said, please, try to keep up with us.  I will take any chance to get into the race again, so I ducked under the barricade.  But it wasn’t long before someone was pushing past me again. “Please,” I said, to her, “Go ahead, your group must have passed you.”

“Oh, no,” she said, “my group is way back there,” pointing over her shoulder and behind her back. “But I was ahead of you.”  And then a frosty silence.  She must have seen me slip under one of the tapes.

“Be my guest,” I said, “I am slipping back and having trouble keeping up with my sister and brother-in-law who are ahead of me.  If you can find a way to make it to the front of the line, I am going to be your helper, for just keeping up with my group isn’t working for me.”

The line that snaked in one room, then requeued into one long line, ever longer, in the next room. I don’t know how those other old people stood on their feet for 2 ½ hours.  I looked pretty young in comparison to some of them.  One couple we fashionably dressed, not a wrinkle on their clothes, but I said to Wyona, those two over there are going to be nothing more than skeletons if this line takes any longer.

Corfu, Greece

We walked through the square, through the local church, stopped to take pictures at a typical square surrounded by dining establishments, and then we walked through the streets of markets, looking at the precious gems, the gold, the shawls, the wooden salad tongs and the toys. I tried on a one-armed black shawl, well worth the price of 40 euros and though, “If I only wear this to the Ward Christmas Party, it will be well worth the price.” When I walked away and left it in the shop, Wyona asked, “What happened there.”

“The handsome Greek clerk insisted on helping me with shawl. I knew I could do it alone, but he was insistent, I slipped the sleeve on and then went to wrap the rest of the shawl wrapped around me. But he stood a little too close to me. And when I had the sleeve on, he took his hand and smoothed out the rest of the material on the left side of my body and around my hip, giving me a massage along the way that was just a tidge too familiar. Am I imagining this, I thought. But no, he wrapped the other side of the scarf through my midriff and over my shoulder the same way. All that went through my mind was – I am used to getting a massage like this for free. It is not going to help him sell me this scarf this way, even though I really want it I am going to leave it here.” So I scarified and and went away empty handed. “You should have told him, You would have bought it, without the familiarity.” ” said Wyona when I told her. “I know. I know. But I am not quick enough and besides, I am on holidays and so I will find that scarf somewhere else on this trip.

At a Venetian Well

“Go that way, if you want to see a real local sight,” a local said to me as I was waiting outside of a grocery store for Greg and Wyona who needed some cool refreshment. The Donair Shop had offered her a coke for 2 ½ Euros. Too expensive. In the grocery store it was only one euro. So with a Fanta Orange her hand, we climbed some stairs to an empty courtyard where the well was a two step platform of white marble and inscribed 1693. I wondered how many families had drawn their water there.

A bougainvillaea tree was splayed against one of the apartment walls. A grape vine rose two stories and then branched its vines out over the windows. A woman sat on a balcony hanging her laundry out over the street. School boys came running by, empty handed, hiding in the niches of the wells so they could scare the girls whom they knew would be coming after them. The girls walked by, shrugging their shoulders with disdain at the silliness of the boys who were trying to attract their attention. Their mothers all followed behind them in a few minutes, backpacks over their shoulders. “Did you notice,” said Wyona, “things are the same all over the world. The girls all carried their own back packs and the mothers were carrying the backpacks of the boys, one of them having 3 sets of shoulder straps slung over her shoulder.”

So nice to see down so many streets in Corfu.

Arta

My Wrap-Up

Three things surprised me on the cruise.

The first surprise was that I  could order room service for breakfast -- at no cost.  At the appointed hour, there came breakfast – whatever my heart had desired and my pencil had checked (plus a few other items added by Wyona). There it was on the tea-tray, wheeled in at the appointed hour.  Then Wyona showed me how to take the lids off of every tray, one by one until there was no room left in our 4^th floor cabin space.  That is when I burst out laughing. 

Holy cow! 

All that food, all of those dishes, and no place in the cabin to sit and eat it once it is unpacked. 

Now I understand why Wyona is negotiating with the Royal Caribbean for a balcony on the next cruise.  We need the space so we can order breakfast in.

My second cruising surprise came when Wyona and I were exchanging pleasantries at mealtime with some couples who were at the same table with us, and in response to some question, I heard myself say, “Oh no.  We are sisters.  We have husbands.  We just left them at home.” 

The next question was, “And how do they feel about that?”  

Sassy!

I am always afraid of what Wyona is going to say in surprise turns-of-conversation.  She came through sounding like an angel.   “Well, my husband was quite happy that I was going, since he wanted to stay home and do some maintenance work on the house.  He did made me promise to take this cruise a second time, the next time with him.”  Mmm.  Maybe it is Greg who came out sounding like an angel.

Now there is a hard promise to keep.  She is going to have to go on the Baltic Cruise again when what she really wants to do next time is see the fiords.

My reply was easier. “My husband has limited mobility and is thrilled that I can get out and do things.”

I told Kelvin later, "I wonder what people thought I would say.  Oh, I left my husband at home, madder than a hatter.  He wants to me stay at home with my face turned to the wall so I will have no fun."

He said, "No, your reply was just fine." 

My third general surprise is how little time there is in my day, even when someone else is making my bed, preparing my food for me, and doing all of my cleaning.  I was thinking about that fact this morning when I was making my own omelet for breakfast.  The chives and green peppers were sticking a bit when I was taking the food out of the pan and the thought crossed my mind, “This wouldn’t be sticking if  you had put the same amount of oil in the pan to fry the batter in, that you saw the cook put in the pan when you watched him make your omelet-to-order on the boat.”

Yes.   I just about had a heart-attack just from seeing how much oil went into the pan.

That is just about the best reason I know that a person should cruise less often.   

Cruising -- hard on the arteries!