The Land Cruise

 

Enjoying my flight to London

An edited journal

Besides flying for free, a favorite benefit as an airline employee, is access to affordable cruises. A few months back, I spent 2 weeks crossing the ocean from the southern hemisphere into the northern. It wasn’t enough, so I booked a 2^nd cruise before the smell of the first washed off. After 2 years cooped up at home with covid, and then the on-going long-covid recuperation, I was more than ready to return to sea. I chose the Island Princess, sailing in and out of London, with stops in Ireland, Iceland and Greenland. I call it The Land Cruise. This is my first visit to any of these bucket list ports.

I really, really wanted to fly in first class. Especially since it eluded me flying to Rio on my last cruise. Business to London was full, so my only hope was in 1 of the 8 open seats in first. It looked good; I was number 1 on the upgrade list. But while sitting in the gate area, the seats in first class started to disappear.

Our UK ports

After 4 seats were gone, I panicked. Where the hell are they going? I was number 1; my name should be next to one of those seats. Houston has 2 daily flights to London, and the earlier flight was delayed, and sitting at the next gate. In fact, all flights were delayed for at least an hour due to thunder storms.

Our Iceland ports

The plane next door actually got struck by lightning, and was now scheduled to depart after midnight, nearly 12 hours late. People were jumping off that flight and onto mine, taking my precious first class seats. I didn’t care if I left at 1AM; I had time. I transferred to that flight and walked to the gate. A bit later, I was being paged at the other gate for a seat. Now what do I do? I list for this flight, and that flight gives me a seat? A minute later and I would have completed the task of canceling the original flight. I could ignore the the call and let them move on to the next person, or I could check the app to see if it was worth while. Oh, yeah. I can check the app. Well, I nearly fell over. I was assigned 2E: first class.

Screw this flight. With ticket in hand, I walked to the plane slowly, as I studied the app. I had to cancel one of the reservations. Listing yourself on 2 flights isn’t cool with Mother Airline.  Whatever flight I wasn’t going to take, I had to cancel.  With great care, I tried not to delete the wrong flight and hit delete >>>confirm. Two flight numbers to the same destination. Sounds easy, but it was late. I was tired, flustered, and stressed. The flight disappeared from my screen as I took my seat. While waiting for the door to close, I checked the app to see that my bag was on the correct flight. That’s when I freaked.

Taking flight from LHR airport

My return flight was no longer showing. Shit. I must have deleted the wrong flight. Was I now on board an aircraft for which I wasn’t listed? The boarding pass printed prior to my deleting the ticket, so it could happen. This was bad. I could lose my seat. Or my bag could be pulled when the system thinks I’m not on board. Since I wouldn’t be on the other flight either, my bag would stay in Houston while I traipsed around the North Atlantic. What had I done? What should I do? In my panicked state I couldn’t formulate a plan. I was a deer in the headlights. The door closed, ending my chance to act. At least I was in first class. No, wait...first class be damned. I really messed up.

This is the hell I live with in my post covid world. I’m never sure if I’ve done the correct thing, and I lose focus on what to prioritize. I get confused easily about what to do or what I’ve done, and I’m unable to make a new plan in haste. It’s worse when under pressure or tired. What was once a comfortable and familiar world is now strange and foreign—just like long covid.

My luggage made it. When I got to the hotel, the interwebs showed that I had canceled the correct flight, after all. The return flight was now there. I just...I don’t know. Did I not see it? Was I in the wrong screen? I couldn’t figure out why I thought the flight was gone because it was clearly there now. I’ve learned to just breathe in and move on. Worrying would change nothing but my blood pressure.

The day I landed was my cushion day. Good thing, too. After the fiasco leaving Houston, I would have really panicked if the ship left a few hours after landing. I reserved a nice room at the Ibis hotel, a few stops from the airport. My room had a view of planes taking off. Later that evening I watched a most beautiful Harvest Moon rise. 

 

Moonrise from my hotel room

Leading up to departure, my research revealed a tasty chicken place in the neighboring bowling alley. Who would think to go to a bowling alley for dinner? As I ate my chicken to the sound of balls rolling down the deck and crashing pins. I fondly recalled how, to satisfy an elective in college, I had taken a bowling class. If anyone had asked, I would have joined in a game when done eating chicken. No one asked. Instead, I walked down the street for more views of airplanes lumbering into the heavens. This was probably a win-win. College was so long ago and my skills so far away.

The 6-hour time difference was partly responsible for not sleeping long enough. Breakfast was included with my room, havong an impressive variety of fare to please both Americans and Europeans. I even returned for seconds; something I never do any longer. And then it was time to leave. I was so excited to get to the ship.

At the airport I met the Princess Cruise representative just outside baggage claim. While waiting to leave, I met Rob and his wife from Arizona. They sat across from me on the bus to the Southampton dock, and we enjoyed a fun conversation. I would never see them again. I wonder if he even made it on board. Maybe they forgot their passport.

Dinner view: the bowling alley

Princess has a new Medallion class. Instead of a key card, we get a medallion about the size of a silver dollar and as thick as a pancake. This opens the stateroom door, allows purchases to be billed to the account, and provides personal information to cruise staff when engaging them. All of the information they require for check-in was downloaded at home, including my security photo. It’s quite impressive. The entire process of registration, security screening, and finding my room on deck 11, took but half an hour. Typically, it takes more time standing in line to reach the check-in desk.

The main dining room (MDR) is closed when in port, so I had to forgo my tradition of having lunch in the more elegant setting. Instead, I settled for the madness of the buffet. I do love that the buffet is at the front of this ship, a first in my 18-year cruising experience. After lunch, I walked the ship. The decor was rich, but not overstated. Public areas are centered around the 4 level atrium, with sweeping stairs on each side. Everyone was happy and excited. Including me.

 

First visit on my balcony

I chose my forward cabin on deck 11, the Baja deck, for the location and views. It is convenient to both decks 7 and 14 by stairs, which I often use to get exercise. When I left my stateroom for deck 14, I arrived too quickly. Was that 3 flights of stairs? It felt like 2. Did I black out? It was 2; the 13^th floor is the 14th. Silly superstitious. In all my research, I hadn't noticed. And it's amusing how the elevator announces the floor name as the doors open. I keep thinking she’s laughing at me, with a bold exclamation, “BAJA!” Bah-hah, yourself, elevator.

 

My stateroom B233

Eager to get my clothes hung and settled, I frequently returned to my cabin for my luggage. As dinner time neared I placed a call to see about locating my bag. Leaving a description, it appeared that I would not be changing out of shorts for dinner. You can’t go to the MDR in shorts. Well, you can, but it's uncouth. I’ve complained about that faux pas for so long, I simply couldn’t. This was upsetting. First, unable to dine there for lunch, and now I’d have my first dinner in the buffet. Saints preserve us. There was a knock on the door just as I was about to go upstairs. My luggage was found and I’d be dining in the MDR, after all.

 

 

Day 2: Cornwall, England

The ship anchored off Falmouth, just as a marine layer was lifting to reveal blue skies. Ahead, to the left, was a castle sitting atop a green bluff. On the right was a smaller castle down near the water. I got a tender ticket and boarded one without a wait. Sailing into Falmouth harbor was much like sailing into Annapolis, MD. On tree-lined cliffs overlooking the water, sat elegant homes under shade trees. There were so many sailboats, it was if a regatta was afoot. The captain pointed out landmarks, cited history, and then stated that there was a regatta that day. I'm so smart.

 

 

Island Princess from Pendennis

Falmouth approach

Homes across the harbor

Beautiful Falmouth

 

Pendennis castle

Atop the green bluff was Pendennis Castle. This is where I chose to begin. Around the castle was a moat and walking path, perfect for exploring. Lush trees and vines surrounded the area, giving all sorts of birds places to show off. I hoped to see inside the castle, but wasn't willing to part with $15 to do so. It’s a nice a castle, but it isn’t $15 nice. So I entered the gates and walked far enough for a few selfies within the walls. Then I walked down the road along the cliff, with views of Castle Beach below.

View from atop Castle Beach & IP anchored

 

 

 

 

There were many people at the beach. Some snorkeled and swam. Others combed the rocky beach and explored pools looking for treasure. Groups of locals gathered for conversation while floating in the calm water. While descending down the road to the beach, I admired the lines of rock formations, visible under the clear water. I didn’t see any seals, said to be in the area, but I enjoyed walking along the beach on such a gorgeous day. Just inland, I discovered a lush garden established by Darwin. Yes. That Darwin, who sailed here back in his day. Hugging the hillside, it was a nice treck up to the top.

 On top was a craft market in the Queens Pavilion—a beautiful building surrounding a lawn and gazebo. Tables lined the walkway around the lawn. While children played and ate ice cream in the sun, adults showcased their art, soap, cards, shawls, and the like. I perused the homemade wares peddled by local artists, but found nothing I couldn’t live without.

On the way to the main part of town, I saw lots of quaint homes with nice gardens. Many had fancy front doors with porches festooned with flowers. As I admired one, the door opened and a man was suddenly watching me looking at his door up a flight of cement steps. I smiled and told him how much I admired his front door. He smiled back and thanked me. 

Downtown, the main street was crammed with tourists poking around stores and quaint shops. I got a few souvenirs and returned to the ship. The views were as spectacular as those coming ashore, but now, with the regatta begun, there were even more boats. They sailed around the ship like a swarm of mosquitoes, but much less annoying. For lunch, I tried the pizza, served poolside on deck 13. I mean 14. It was about the best I’ve had at sea. And I’ve had a lot of pizza at sea.

 

Island Princess

 

 

Day 3: Cobh, Ireland

Sunrise in Cobh

I thought Cork and Cobh were the same town, and that Cobh was the Gaelic of Cork. The literature showed it as ‘Cork (Cobh)’. What did I know? Cobh is actually the town where we dock. The larger city of Cork is about 8 miles inland. And it is not pronounced Cob, as in corn on the cob. It’s pronounced with a V- as in Cove. It took a while to figure that out. The way it was pronounced wasn’t the way it was spelled. Reminding me of people who pronounce What-a-burger as Water Burger.

Cobh from my balcony

Island Princess entered the Celtic Sea and turned West, placing Cobh to starboard. This is when I awoke. There was a magical golden sunrise gifting us with a spectacular sky. Do I have a million photos of sunrises and sunsets yet? I'm working on it.

 

Beautiful town

With brightly colored row houses lining roads zig-zaging up hill, Cobh is charming. It’s dominated by a large Gothic cathedral with an impressive spire reaching to god. Along the waterway is a mural of the Titanic. She, and the Lusitania, are a huge part of Cobh’s history. Cobh, formerly called Queenstown. was Titanic’s final port before her Atlantic crossing. I arrived and departed Ireland in the same waters, and from the same dock, as the Titanic, over 100 years ago. And after Lusitania sank off the coast of Ireland, 764 survivors landed at Cobh, and 169 are buried here.

Titanic mural

I didn't realize the Titanic had been docked in Cobh when I was there. I thought Queenstown was around the bend in the same waters. It wasn't until much later that I relized there was a name change. But when I heard about it, I recalled reading that prior to being there. It just didn't register and being there didn't summon the spark my mind required to put the two together. Made me glad I got a Titanic pin. It also gave weight to being in the same waters. I was also at the same dock. 

Office of the White Star Line is now a museum

Fantastic view from my cabin

Most shipmates were going to Cork to visit the Blarney Stone. But Cobh was so picturesque and rich in history that I abandoned any thought of exploring Cork—maybe next time. Placing my lips on the same stone as billions of others, while lying precariously on my back, seemed less appealing.

Quaint town of Cobh

Cobh was sleepy and quiet. It was early Sunday morning when I stepped foot on land. Walking in town, I felt like I was one of very few people alive. I explored along the way en route to the Titanic gardens, at the opposite end of town. There were plaques noting Cobh history, such as being the embarkation point for Ireland’s mass emigrations in the early 1900s. 

 

 

I examined a tall brick smoke stack, which I could compare to old photos on the historical plaques. The tower wasn’t designated as anything special. It was simply old and left standing after its factory disappeared to make room for a line of modern town homes. I passed stylish buildings with water views, old boats, and closed shops with windows full of wares lining the street. 

 

Titanic memorial glass

The Titanic Memorial Gardens faced the inlet to the Celtic Sea. It is a small park with benches, historical accounts, and stairs to a lower area closer to the water. There, a man was fishing, and plants are arranged to spell out Titanic when viewed from above. I read the numerous plaques, learning of men and events relating to Titanic’s Cobh connection. So many people embarked from Cobh to America from right here.

Before heading towards St. Coleman’s Cathedral, I ran into Sally, a fellow Cruise Critic. We talked a bit about our unfolding cruise adventure, and about the local bird scene. She was a birdwatcher, complete with book and binoculars. It’s interesting, the things that travelers prioritize. For me, it’s always been about history, architecture, and local customs. Oh. And the cuisine. I love to sample the local food.

Sunday morning service was ending as I entered the church. The organ played, pushing sounds from impressive polished pipes, which filled the Gothic interior with weighty euphony. The father, or cardinal, or whoever, wearing green robes, approached to stand sentry at the main door as he thanked departing congregants. While the church emptied, I perused the ornate religious fixtures and impressive Celtic tile work in the floors. It was nearly 11 when I emerged from the church, again passing the man in green robes. What’s up, Dude? The magnificent bell began to ring the hour, which I recorded.

St. Colemans Cathedral

I was thirsty. The cruise director told us about an Irish law: visitors are required to have a pint of ale at a friendly pub. Required to. I didn’t want to be in trouble with the Irish, so I made this my next mission. I found a shady spot at a local pub and kicked back a thick, dark ale as I watched the passersby. Many, I recognized from the IP, now dominating the docks. Cobh was no longer bereft of people. I guess now that church is over-.

The air filled with tunes from a buttery-voiced woman at the shoreline park. She sang Stevie Nicks’ Dreams, catching my attention and luring me in. A crowd surrounded her gazebo stage. She was an 80s force to be reckoned with, adding songs from the 70s and 90s: Journey, the Cranberries, Fleetwood Mac. Utopia. A shirtless man, who appeared to be tanked, danced wildly, and was as entertaining as the songstress.

Sadly, I could feel the fatigue building. After a year and a half of dealing with post covid fatigue, I’ve learned how to read body signals. Thus ended my tour of Cobh, leaving more for another visit. I returned to my stateroom and fell dead on my bed. 

 

In the park

In the first few days on board, I quickly established a daily routine. Sometimes the timing changed, but each day was spent in the thermal spa followed by a swim or soak in the whirlpool. As we pressed north, and the waters chilled, the pools were drained, but the hot tubs were left steaming. After lunch was usually a lecture or fun activity. Each evening was cocktail hour with new acquaintences in the Wheelhouse Lounge. This led to a wonderful meal, expertly served in the MDR. The evening ended with entertainment in the theater. 

Outside the cathedral

There was a time I ended the night on a cruise early in the morning at the disco, or listening to live music. Not any more. Fatigue has made me like an old person. Now, I generally retire to my stateroom after the show. There were times I ventured out to hear a band or listen to the DJ. If asked by my new ship-board friends, I would go. Unwinding with my journal and filling out the door card for breakfast is generally my preferred evening activity.

Moon lit night over the ocean

Jonathan was one of my regular pals. We met the first night, when revealing how difficult it was relating to his schoolmates at a recent reunion. After traveling the world and amassing his fortune, there was so little in common. He bought a large castle north of England, along with other investors. His name dropping was interesting, and rarely wowed me. It wasn't easy not to notice his large, silver Rolex, similar to mine. He mentioned working for the US special ops, and holding influence in the entertainment industry. His time is  split between his home in Florida and the castle, an hour north of London. His lively tales are immensely enjoyable, and I love his company. I hope to be invited to his castle.

Evening southeast of Iceland

One of the first people I met was Ed, a fellow airline employee. He had spent several months on the ship. I was so jealous; I have always wanted to be on board a cruise ship longer than 2 weeks. Dan has been on board longer than Ed. I’ve never met anyone who has been on so many back to back cruises, and now I meet 2. Dan refers to the buffet as ‘the trough.’ I think I’ll use that analogy from now on.

A few sailings back, Dan met a guy with a reserved table of 8, with open seats. He invited others to join, and Dan was one. When that person left the ship, Dan inherited the table. He keeps the spirit going by inviting others to join him. Now I was such a person, and became one of the regulars. Others were Michael and Janet, a polite older couple from near Jonathan’s castle; Jonathan; Bill, from California; and Paul and his partner Geoff, a writer, both from the UK. 

 

One thing I love about cruising is a pleasant meal in a stately dining room, followed by a show in the theater. It’s the kind of life I’d live but can’t afford. The show the night we left Cobh featured the 2^nd comedian so far. He was funnier than the 1^st but with one drawback: He bemoaned excessively when he didn’t get the laughs he expected. Was it my covid brain? I didn’t get all of his jokes. And one was an oldie that I heard Rodney “No respect” Dangerfield tell in the 70s. (I have 3 kids...one of each.) Isn’t it forbidden to use material from another comic?

Iceland is Green and Greenland is Ice

In the fjord towards Akureyri

Sunrise was 5AM, but I woke at 4am; it was already light out. Sunset was 9PM, but it looked like dusk when I went to bed at midnight. The sun sets slower than what I’m used to this far north. It arcs around the sky. The days are long, and it’s fully dark for a few hours.

 

Just after 10PM

Nearly 11PM

This was the day we crossed the arctic circle, having done so just as I finally got out of bed at 645AM. I bolted to the window as we entered the longest fjord in Iceland. I hoped to see whales, but no luck there. And so far no puffins. For the past 24 hours, we’ve seen a lot of birds, though—white ones, skimming the water and diving in for food. They started following the ship long before we could see land. Silly little birds. They were entertaining- flying around, landing on the water, and at night, they slept undisturbed as the ship passed them by.

 

Mountains in the fjord

The mountains on both sides were topped with patches of snow. I felt like I was in Colorado. In fact, I thought I felt the affects of being a mile high, even though the ship was at sea level. Funny how the mind tricks us. It was overcast and gray. The grass was green and I could see cars and vans driving the roads on either side. Early risers.

 

My hands hurt from being out on the patio. It’s cold. Windy. I don’t know what the wind chill is, but it hurts my hands. I’m actually wearing a long sleeve shirt and my long coat. How rare that I get to, now that I’m in Houston. And at dinner last night, I wore one of my colorful kimonos, receiving quite a few compliments. I miss living where long sleeves and coats are necessary, and I can wear more than just a short sleeved shirt. I miss the San Francisco Bay Area. Why do I live where it’s so hot and humid? Oh, yeah. I can afford an awesome home.

 

A tug boat comes to aid

 

He’s not dead

Andi sheds some light on Chris Bannister

With 2 songs left in his John Denver tribute set, Chris Bannister sang Sally’s song. His voice was apparently stolen from John Denver. I hoped others couldn’t see me crying. Mom loved JD. She would love this show. Maybe she was enjoying it, as she watches over me. Suddenly there was a loud pop, a flash of light, and then darkness. Audible gasps filled the room. Well, they won't see my tears now. Many thought he had been electrocuted, even tho he was slightly visible standing in the darkness. Chris assured us that he was OK. The emergency lights came on, which calmed people down. The entire ship was without power as we drifted off the coast of Iceland.

The captain announced that we were safe, and asked that we remain in place. At the crowd’s urging, Chris sang one last song a Capella. The crowd went wild. After the show, I asked Andi if Chris could sing the songs we didn’t get to hear, during his 2^nd show a few nights later. He didn’t think it would be an issue.

 

Hanging with Chris Bannister

The day I boarded, I walked into the art gallery and was greeted by the 2 guys in charge. After exchanging pleasantries, I informed them that they’ll see me at the auctions, but I am NOT going to buy any art. So why attend the auction? They’re fun events. The staff are friendly and I enjoy learning more about the artists. They also have free champagne, and I LOVE free champagne as much as I love art. There were a few Peter Max pieces to fall in love with in the gallery. I was in trouble.

The art gallery gang

I can’t believe I’m thinking of getting more Peter Max. How can I justify spending a few thousand dollars for MORE Peter Max? Isn’t 9 enough? Now there is even more urgency in learning that he’s stopped painting; the machine has shut down. I noticed that the prices seem higher, yet I’m being offered a really good deal. Maybe because they are embellished, hand-signed serigraphs and not originals. One is his drawing of the Mona
Lisa. What a treat it would be to own that. I’ve always wanted one of his umbrella men, and there were many on board. In the first auction, I won a serigraph signed by Tarkai, which I’m quite pleased about. I think they let me win with an evil purpose: getting more opportunities to persuade me to buy. I won’t.

 

Umbrella Man by Peter Max

*But I did. I blame the champagne. And I didn't buy any Peter Max.

 

 

 

Penguin at Godasfass

Art deco church

Ogre

I Heart Akureyri

Each morning, I enjoy breakfast in my stateroom. The same friendly man delivers it daily. So far so good with special requests. They always deliver special items I request that aren’t on the breakfast card. Except for my cinnamon donut. I think they do cinnamon every other day, and yesterday was that day. Instead, he brought a cinnamon roll and said it was a donut. Today he brought a cinnamon roll and a glazed donut with sprinkles. I only asked for the cinnamon donut. I tried to explain the difference between a roll and a donut. I don’t think he understood, because he said today was not cinnamon day, so he brought the glazed. Why fight it? I thanked him. 

 

 

Last sunset before  Iceland

The stupidity of some people

A lady thought the birds near Iceland had been nesting on the ship this whole time, and were out flying for exercise. You can’t make this stuff up.

When we lost power the other night, it was easy to spot the morons among us. One asked if we could get into the rooms without power. Another responded that without power, the doors were all unlocked. A woman asked her husband if he had locked the safe. Someone said they weren’t too worried and they were well insured. The show may have ended without power, but I was immensely entertained.

 

No whales no puffins

There have been a dozen times in my life where someone has confused a puffin with a penguin. I open a gift, behold a puffin, and with sincerity, thank them for the nice gift. Then I’ll ask, “But why a puffin? I collect penguins.” It’s fun watching their face change as they realize their folly.

Regardless, I’ve always wanted to see a live puffin. Pretty birds; nice plumage. Years ago, I was in the Shetland Islands and asked where I could see the puffins. They looked at me oddly. “There are none, sir. They fly south for the winter. The last puffin left a week ago.” Damn my luck.

This is puffin territory. I’ve seen lots of birds: cute loud-mouthed sea gull types; actual sea gulls; and those cute white and black birds I saw in Cobh. I’m in whale territory, as well. My brother and his family were here a month ago and saw them. I’ve seen them in Hawaii. Yet, I’m excited to see one and have spent much time on the balcony, trying to. Leaving Akureyri last night, I even dined alone so I could get through dinner quickly just to be on the balcony. I saw as many whales as puffins. Was it this time of year that I was in the Shetlands?

 

The tourist center downtown

 

Today was a great day in Akureyri. Below, on the docks, I filmed the men struggle with the huge, heavy ropes to tie us down. Things are sort of expensive on the island, so I thought I might try to get to a thermal spa, but it would require getting a cab. Fortunately, I needed to find a restroom and went into the round tourist center. While looking over maps, I overheard 2 men talking. One mentioned a bus to the big falls, that was just a few dollars. The tours were charging $50 and up. The other guy said something loudly, and was admonished about letting the secret out. I piped in, suggesting the same thing, and then admitting that I overheard, but didn't catch all the details. 

Godasfass downstream under the bridges

I wound up taking this bus with about 40 others, who somehow found out. I met a fascination woman from Florida; a realtor. She wanted to hear all about my covid experience. It was like therapy talking with her and hearing her take on things. She and her friend joined me in a triumverate of Godasfass exploration. We had a wonderful time. Hopefully, I'll find a thermal pool to enjoy in one of the next 2 stops in Iceland.

 

Pictuesque Akureyri, Iceland

Foggy arrival to Isafjordur

Today we are in Isafjordur. I read about an island nearby, called Vigur, where thousands of puffins live. Maybe not all have left. Maybe I could find a tour. Godasfass falls wasn’t planned while in Akureyri, but fate played that option, so I went. Can I hope for the same today? Come on, fate.

 

Isafjordur awaits

Entering the fjord

Awesome clouds

 

 

There are 2 other ships in port and zero tour openings. In town, I ran into Geoff, from England. He and his partner bought a tour of Vigor before we left Southampton. I asked him to give my regards to the puffins. He asked, “Don’t they fly south for the winter?” Hell. I’m too busy with penguins to acquaint myself with the seasonal habits of puffins.

 

Celebrity Summit

It was gorgeous in Akureyri yesterday, but today was overcast and drizzly in Isafjordur. Some locals I met at the top of the scenic overlook mentioned yesterday being an exception for this part of Iceland. Today was closer to normal. The sun did shine in the afternoon, which was nice.

 

Down at the wharf

Francesco is the amazing hotel manager for the IP. He called yesterday to find out if my expectations were being met, this being my first cruise on Princess. For the most part it is. Many of the things I love about Holland America can be found on IP. There is great music, not a lot of nickle-and-diming, and a more sophisticated crowd. So far, the only difference is the lack of actual linens in public restrooms. 

 

Overlooking Isafjordur

Grey start to the day

My lookout point doesn't look at high as it felt

One cruise, however, isn’t enough to change favorites cruise lines. I’ll need a few more, please. Days ago, there was an event for 1^st time Princess cruisers. A woman won a black medallion, worn by elite passengers. She went from a blue to a black with a singe prize ticket. She reacted as if her family drug her on this cruise by force. I would have been jumping up and down, screaming like a little girl. Then I’d announce that Princess is my new favorite cruise line. There was no point asking Fancesco to bump me up to black to change my answer. So for now, Penguin’s favorite cruise line remains a prize kept in the Holland America trophy case. In Amsterdam. Under tight, tight security. 

 

Isafjordur

We left Iceland on day 8, after experiencing Reykjavik on a HOHO bus (hop on hop off). I skipped many of the HOHO stops and chose to walk part of the route to see more sights close up. I love how the art deco inspired church echoes the shapes of cooling lava. The weather was nice, and the sun was out much of the afternoon. Clouds brought a rainstorm at the perfect time- just as I returned and walked up the gangway.

Reykjavik is bustling

Famous rainbow street

The church

Wide view of Reykjavik

Reykjavik is a busy, bustling city. It was larger than I expected. The old wharf area was my favorite. This is certainly a place that requires more than a day to enjoy the various museums. Harpa Concert Hall was an impressive building, in front of which I needed a few selfies. I walked inside, as well, thinking the interior is as impressive as the exterior... There were a surprising number of people inside. I waited for the bus for 10 minutes, then decided the next area I wanted to see was close enough, I should just walk there. That way, I can see more than I would on the HOHO bus. This allowed me to give a close inspection of a few art deco buildings.

Going inside the church was impressive. There was a choir and orchestra playing in front of TV cameras. When I walked inside, it sounded like I was entering heaven, with the echoing sounds of etherial music and voice. Back outside, I stopped in front for a snack while I watched the people and soaked in the church's architecture.

Departing Reykjavik

High seas

 

Everyone comments how smooth the cruise has been. Then day 9 said hold my beer. Heavy winds drove rough seas, and we were rocking and rolling into the night. I love sea days, but IP kept me busy today. Spa in the morning, meeting with Andi, the cruise director at 11; Cruise Critics luncheon at noon, Peter Max seminar at 1:15 (they are seriously messing with me—the gallery has become a sea of Umbrella Men). There was a presentation on maritime history, a watercolors activity, and tea time…so much to do. The presentation will be on TV, so I can knock that one off the list.

This was my first sighting up on 14

Everyone wants to see the northern lights. We were advised that the sun is more active, and the aurora will be visible in the northern US. Here we are in the land most associated with the aurora, and no one has caught sight. It’s been cloudy every night. Stupid clouds.

The clouds thinned after Iceland, and it seemed darker than usual around midnight. Feeling lucky, I decided to go up top to check. All the lights were on, polluting the view. I was returning to my stateroom when I looked towards the sunset. There they were: the Aurora Borealis. It does not have to be pitch dark, like they say. Nor does it need to be cloudless. The green lights dancing above were spectacular. I’ve seen them from the cockpit of a flight north of Chicago. Seeing them from the ground was markedly impressive.

 

Aurora Borealis

Yesterday, I downloaded 1500 photos I’ve taken on this voyage so far. I’ve been taking photos like they’re going out of style. These are new and beautiful places to me. At least I’m over the Narcissus complex I developed on my last cruise, where 800 of the 1500 photos were of me. With so many great backdrops, I couldn’t stop admiring my 100 pound weight loss.

Taking a bow

I feel like I gained 20 pounds last week. The food has been phenominal. Last night’s appetizers were so delicious, we thought it was formal night (tonight is our 2nd). Goat cheese souffle, mushroom soup, and gnocchi were the options. Yes, please, to all 3. The fish entree was fishy and bland. I should have ordered the pork loin, which was fantastic last week. Not like I went starving after 3 starters. Ending the meal was a salted caramel pot that was so velvety-good, I was this close to asking for a second.There were several nights I had 2 desserts.

Showtime

As much as I dislike salmon, I try it every now and then to see if my taste has changed. At my brother’s first wedding reception, Mom chose salmon as the main dish, and it was delicious. That was the only time I liked it. I’m the same with magic. I don’t enjoy magic shows, but I usually go. Maybe this one will be different. A glimpse behind the scenes always fascinates me. Not knowing how a trick works drives me crazy. Last night I decided to sit in the first row for the illusionist show; I always try to sit up front. The show wound up frustrating me, as expected, although I did figure out a few secrets.

In the trough yesterday, I saw a striking couple for the first time on the cruise. His dark hair sported a dramatic wave of blond over his left temple. She was gorgeous, sleek, and worldly. With such dramatic looks, he must be a performer. Sure enough, he was the illusionist and the woman was his wife and assistant.

High seas from my cabin

The seas this morning—day 9—are such that the waves are as big as those at the beach. The wind has been intense since late last night. The ship is rolling about. I suspect many people will keep a low profile today. It’d be nice to have a sea day with much of the ship to myself. One can hope.

We get an extra hour every few nights as we cross time zones heading west. I’m ragged after 4 nights of 5 hours of sleep, so this is fantastic. The temptation to watch our port arrivals is too strong to not sit out on the balcony. Using my GoPro, I got a few time-lapse videos to post on my YouTube channel. (www.youtube.com/@sirpenguinscott) We gain 2 more hours before our arrival to Greenland. Of course, it’ll be hell returning to London, and giving those hours back.

In the Wheelhouse Bar

Our cruise director is British, and acknowledges his likeness to James Corbin. He’s one of the more approachable CDs I’ve known. After the nightly show, since I’m down front, I remain seated so I don’t have to walk out of the theater at sloth-speed behind the crowd. Andi always comes out to chat. Early on, I mentioned writing a book where the main character is a cruise director. He was intrigued, and suggested we get together on a sea day to answer a few of my questions about the life of a CD. He was immensely helpful, and we had a nice conversation.

There was a martini demonstration in the atrium. Ian, the asst. CD, asked if anyone would like to volunteer to make the first martini—with gin and olives. He barely finished the word ‘who’ when my hand shot up. They had me shaking it (not stirring) using my whole body, like some sort of martini maniac. Anything for a free martini. After tasting, Ian asked me to describe it in one word. “Dirty. But it could be dirtier.” Ian didn’t mention if we could drink the rest, and I didn’t ask. I’m taking this with me, thank you very much.

 

Mmm-martini

First iceberg I've ever seen

ICEBERG!

Obligatory iceberg selfie

There continued to be a chance to spot whales. Any time on the balcony was spent searching. There were no spouts visible, but using binoculars, I did see a white object ahead to starboard. Was it? Why, yes. It was an iceberg. Seeing icebergs hadn’t crossed my mind, so I was jubilant. Forty-five minutes later, the captain decided to place it on our port side. Now I’m running up to deck 14 (really 13) to get a required selfie with my first iceberg. They told us it was required.

The deck was packed, some wearing shorts. It was so cold that my hands hurt. The windchill was a factor that would keep my time on deck short. It was a decent sized berg, justifying the hour it took since spotting it. We were so excited, but there would be many more.

Numerous turns through Greenland in the Prince Chrisitan Sound

The captain made an announcement as we passed the huge ice cube. The conditions were good, which meant we could cruise through Prince Christian Sound, as opposed to sailing around the horn of Greenland. This possibility hadn’t been previously mentioned, so our hopes wouldn’t be dashed if we couldn’t do so. Of course, that’s not what I heard him say; his heavy dutch accent over the PA was unintelligible to me. It’s what I later discerned after talking to several others, as each of us understood different parts of the announcement. We would arrive at 11AM, and it takes 6 hours to reach the Western side of Greenland. The views were like nothing I’d seen before, filling me with emotions that streamed down my face. 

 

From the stateroom TV half way through the sound

Few people ever get to visit Greenland. Now I am here, and it’s truly breathtaking. Much more so than the times I’ve flown over it. The mountains are solid rock. They are so massive that I expect to feel their gravitational force. Atop jagged peaks are boulders rising up as if on hind legs. Many icebergs ape these peaks—frozen mini-me’s of the giants between which they flow. One iceberg had two symmetrical points, like a devil or cat. Just beyond, I saw a mountain nearly identical—twin peaks and all. Did every mountain have a twin berg?

 

A glacier at the eastern entrance

Michael and David, a San Diego couple I met, invited me and Bill to lunch in the MDR. Bill had never seen glaciers, and was counting them. We were at seven. Our spirited conversation was frequently interrupted as we passed  glaciers and bergs, causing many to run to the windows for photos. Myself included.

 

A berg outside the MDR window

 

Needing champagne, I couldn’t skip the art auction. However, I skipped afternoon tea, a treat rarely denied, to further enjoy the transcendental views from my balcony. I was spellbound by the huge mountains and numerous bergs. There is a most wonderful sound created by water lapping the side of an iceberg. It doesn’t record the same. And the photos, impressive as they may be, do no justice.

Massive and goreous

So huge

Turn after turn through the sound we sailed. We came upon a village with colorful homes. It was a weather station with 20 or so structures. A man in a small boat buzzed from behind the ship. I don’t know where he came from, but the station was his destination. There were no people visible among the houses. Wouldn’t there be children waving at us? People happy to see a ship pass? (Later I learned that many ships pass through.) The town appeared deserted. In front of one house hung clothes on a line. But who wore them? When we passed the dock hidden behind a wall of rocks, I saw the boat tied up. Its pilot carried a cooler towards a nearby shed. Maybe he wore the clothes. Maybe he was the only inhabitant. There were no cars, and no roads in or out, with the water on one side, and sheer rock cliffs on the other. The entire town could fit on a football field. 

 

The boat and weather station on shore

The town with colorful homes

The first iceberg caused so much excitement. By dinner, we passed so many that the sentiment was, oh, gee. *yawn. Another iceberg. Only the larger ones garnered excitement now. One was larger than my house. And that’s only the visible part. Eighty percent of an iceberg is underwater. My favorite was the one that looked like a frozen whipped topping for a ship-sized slice of pie. Delicious.

 

Jagged peaks

The 3 is part of 1 berg

They got more jagged further west

Outside the sound, going up the coast of Greenland

 

Nanortalik on a nice day

No Nanortalik and no making sense

Nanortalik at night - last time I'd see it

It was 9PM when we dropped anchor at Nanortalik. At 1030, after the show, I went outside on deck 7. The town lights twinkled in slow-waning darkness. Above the mountains, the sky had enough light to see their jagged peaks. Then I spotted them. For the second time, the northern lights danced for me.

Aurora B over Nanortalik

This is the fog that would keep us from Nanortalik

Tendering to Nanortalik was to begin at 7AM. The fog was thick and visibility nil. The captain announced that tendering would be delayed. It’s impossible to tender a boat to shore and back when you can’t see the shore from the ship, or the ship from the shore. Someone mentioned that one can last 3 minutes in these cold waters. I don’t think I’d last more than one, and I didn’t want to find out. Our port stop was eventually canceled. Not seeing Nanortalik due to fog was disappointing, but understandable.

Qaqortoq was only a few hours away. We were nervous about having the same fog issues there. Sure, I have now seen Greenland up close, but the aim was to step foot on the island. Iceland and the Northern Lights were sensational. Cruising the sound was otherworldly. Passengers from the US were in the majority, but few had ever been to the UK. Now, the visit to the UK last week seems like another less-exciting cruise, entirely. Not that it wasn't enjoyable.

 

The Nanortalik approach views were wondrous

Up on deck to get a view of Qaqortoq

Napping on the balcony

At the start of the trip I was feeling great. After a few nights getting 5 hours of sleep, I am now struggling with discussions and concentration. My new friends obviously notice. They are polite and give me time to finish a thought without interrupting. When creating a response in conversations, by the time I can interject, the thought disappears like cotton candy in water. At times I forget the topic entirely, and I go quiet since I no longer know what anyone is talking about. Following along is hard. As I’m trying to piece together the meaning to a statement, I miss the next one. Unless I keep asking for a repeat, it’s all over for me.

At happy hour one night, I stayed behind to finish a conversation while the others left for our table. I was 10 minutes late when I walked into the dining room like I owned the place. When I reached our table for 8, it was gone—replaced by 3 tables of 2. How the hell…?

My mind struggled to process how the tables changed when they are bolted to the floor. I looked around...this is the back of the dining room, isn’t it? Oh, my gods. I was in the wrong dining room. They looked at me in wonder. “Who the hell are you?” I’ve been going to dinner for over a week. There may be 2 MDRs, but I know where our table is. Why did I go to the dining room on deck 5 instead of 6? With my tail between my legs, I retreated like a wounded puppy. I considered skipping dinner to hide in my stateroom.

Keeping my tears in check, I dashed the urge to fall to the ground like a child. With a changed mindset, I reached the table and apologized for my tardiness, stating that I wouldn't have been so late had I not gone to the wrong dining room. I owned the folly of my brain fog. Their laughter was polite and made me feel better, but I wasn’t myself the rest of dinner.

The very next night I did it again. Only, this time I realized it before reaching those tables again. Before walking into my dining room, I paused to assess why I was repeating the glitch. I couldn’t figure it out other than fatigue. The urge to cry returned, but remembering how my new friends supported me, it was replaced with laughter. Stressing over it wouldn’t help. That’s what I keep telling myself. Just go with the flow.

From midships, I normally take deck 7 to the forward elevators when going to my cabin. One night I ignored my routine without thought, and took deck 8, instead of 7. After climbing 2 levels, I suddenly thought I should be on deck 11, but I was on 10. Even though 10 is where I should have been, I got confused about the extra set of stairs. Now I thought I started from 9, not 8. Why do I have another flight of stairs? Had I started from 8 or 9? Where did I deviate and take the extra flight of stairs? After standing still trying to figure it out, I could no longer remember why I was going to my cabin. This time I couldn’t laugh. Once inside my cabin, all I could do was cry.

I noticed an entry I made in my journal. Even though I had already written about not getting to Nanortalik, I did so again. It’s not like me to forget that I’ve journaled something. The entry didn’t make sense; I wondered where my mind was:

Day 11: I awoke at 540 with pea soup outside my window. Put down the spoon. it was foggy, not edible. Visibility 50 yards, quite a difference from the clear skies allowing those fleeting northern lights. They were difficult to see with the naked, and only lasted about half an hour. I barely saw them again before going to bed. But I took another break after minutes. 

 

 

Editing this journal for your reading pleasure, I found quite a few times where my notes made no sense. This has taken quite a few edits to get to this point, and I wonder how many mistakes I overlooked. It’d be an interesting drinking game. I’m such a perfectionist. Twelve weeks since I got home, and I’m still editing out mistakes and finding nonsensical errors. There was a time I could get this posted within days.

 

First view of Qaqortoq

Greenland...the internet has left the building

 

 

 

Qaqortoq at night

We approached Qaqortoq the same afternoon we left Nanortalik. There was another ship anchored, leaving that evening. To keep us entertained, the captain turned around and returned to open waters so they could open the casino and shops. Maybe it’s more about IP making extra money than keeping us busy. But I could see Qaqortoq sprawled from the coast and up the hills under a crisp, blue sky, safe from the many bergs floating in nearby waters. We returned to anchor during the evening show. Weighing the anchor is quite loud from the theater, by the way.

Waking under one of the more sensational sunrises of my life—filling the sky with orange and gold—I was excited to finally step foot on Greenland. I thought I might kiss the ground. The weather had its own agenda, so it would have been a sloppy, wet kiss.

 

Qaqortoq sunrise

Great way to start a day

 

A boat heading to Q

The clouds moved in and sat. They watched as I boarded the tender and watched as I disembarked. They smiled with me at being on Greenland soil at last. The wind made the chilled air downright cold. It began to sprinkle. At least there was no fog. At least I was onshore in Greenland.

The Q docks

Penguin finally on Greenland soil

Scene in Q

I stopped in the little welcome center to buy magnets, key rings, and to use the European bathroom upstairs. Out back, I viewed the artistic rock carvings I hoped to see. Nearby, I got selfies with the only water fountain in the country, and then walked to the lake at the edge of town. Curious passersby returned my greetings, and I stopped a gentleman for directions to the police station. Not to report the bad weather, but to get my passport stamped. Following the crowd of invading shipmates, I walked upwards to a higher vantage point. A helicopter landed in a helipad 50 yards in front of me. It was now raining. My hands were numb with cold. I held an umbrella from inside my coat sleeve for warmth. How had I forgotten to pack gloves? I was equal parts ecstatic and miserable.

 

IP in the background

Enough. Greenland was checked off my bucket list. I may have wished to enjoy a cold beer while getting in some WiFi time, but the bar didn’t open until 3, and last call to the ship was at 4. It was 11AM; time to leave Qaqortoq for lunch on the IP, where it was warm and dry. I was off the ship for all of 4 hours.

 

Saying goodbye to Greenland

Following a meal in the trough with Jonathan, I changed into my swim trunks and sat in the sauna and Jacuzzi. Sweet heat. I would have loved to sit in a steam room, but they were inop. The clouds remained all day and watched as we left Qaqortoq. Such a shame; the day before had been sunny and bright.

Leaving Q; 80% is under water & unseen

We were back at sea. The Thermal spa was out of commission yet again, for the 2^nd day in a row- on day 13. To this point, there had not been a single day where everything was working. I asked for a partial refund, and after the hotel manager—my new buddy Francesco—heard my tale, he ensured that the spa manager complied without hesitation.

Inside the thermal spa

An inop spa meant more time for fun ship activities. There was a Seacraft workshop to make a beaded bag tag and wine charms. In the photo scavenger hunt, I came in 1^st place- at 21 minutes. There was a pub lunch of fish and chips, which led to tipsy time at the sparkling wine art auction. Following a 2nd watercolors speed challenge, I joined Michael, David, and their friend Lea for tea. My battery depleted, I then returned to my stateroom. 

 

Hilarious cooking demo

For 24 hours I thought there were 3 days left, and was sad that the cruise was nearly over. When I realized that we had 4 days left, it was like I won an extra day. Even so, the sadness didn’t fully leave. I’ll just be sad longer than the normal 2 days. Today is day 15 and tomorrow is our final day at sea. I have 2 more sleeps in this bed before I fly home.

 

Breeze on the balcony

 

Day 15 and it’s the 1^st day the thermal spa was fully functional, although the loungers weren’t as warm as usual. Outside, the Jacuzzi wasn’t as hot. It’s always something. Still, I wish I could be like Dan or Ed, and stay on IP for another month. Were it not for my cats...

Last night was formal night. I sported my black longcoat. Several people asked why I wore decorative medals. As much as I wanted to say that I got them for dealing with nosy people asking odd questions, (or odd people asking nosy questions) I said that they were given for complaining. I told one guy, “It’s formal night, isn’t it? This is how I do formal.” I should follow up asking why they chose the color they did, but I’m too polite.

While I was dressed to the nines, I went around the ship to take selfies. I may have lost 100 pounds in the past 2 years, but I feel so fat. I wonder how much weight I’ve gained in the last 2 weeks. The food has really been about the best of any cruise. At least in the top 3.

Lots of live music on board

My artistic side has really come out on this sailing. I have had so many visual art ideas, especially after the 2 watercolor sessions. I’ve created some fascinating photo art from my photography, that I’d love to embellish with paint. Wouldn’t that be something? At the age of 54, turning into an artist. Maybe Mom is working through me with her artistic talents. Might come in handy if I can’t go back to work.

 

Tomorrow is the last sea day. This time I’m certain. Now I’m really sad. This has been great fun, with new friends, bucket list places checked off, and magical lands explored. I’m so fatigued. It’s been difficult to keep up with a full day’s schedule for 2 weeks. 

 

My watercolor on the wall with magnets

On the bus to the airport, I did something rare- I fell asleep. When I awoke an hour later, we were about to exit the highway. Checking in for my flight confused me. I went the way I thought our ticket counter was. Not seeing it, I went back the other way. Reaching the far end, I wondered how I missed it. Turns out that it was where I originally thought it was. Big airline logo signs- I have no idea how I didn’t see it. Did people wonder why I was going back and forth? 

 

Festive atmosphere in the atrium

London is famous for its tough airport security. I’ve had issues before...while in uniform...working. It’s also been a long time and I’m no longer familiar, so I had issues. The whole process befuddled me; I couldn’t figure out where in the machine to slide my passport. Maybe because it wanted my ticket, not my passport. But where do I scan the ticket? People behind me were getting impatient, adding to the stress. A woman in uniform approached and teased me, since I am a flight attendant. Laughingly, I played it off to being exhausted. 

Due to a last minute plane change, I lost my seat in first class. Luckily, I got a center row to myself. The door closed and I spied an empty row next to the window, so moved there. My bag went under the aisle seat to discourage anyone from taking it. Crew members recognize me, so the wine was flowing as much as their charm. I declined their offer for food from first class, having already filled up with my mediocre economy meal. If only they had asked sooner. Vacation is now officially over. Time to eat normally again.

 

Final morning back in Falmouth

I’m watching “The Batman,” which I’ve not seen. The screen in the empty seat next to me is showing the flight map. We’re going south of Iceland and Greenland. On the map, my eyes go to where I stepped foot on those islands. I was there. I never thought I would be. Greenland, with her ice, snow, and glaciers, looks so different from the air. Until a few years ago, I wasn’t fully aware that people lived there. Now that I’ve been, I’m teary with joyful emotion. 

 

The 787 home

What an amazing adventure these past 2 weeks have been. Visiting Portsmouth and Cobh feels like a month ago. On another cruise. In another lifetime. How I enjoyed those ports. Iceland was pure magic, even if I never spied Bjork, whales or puffins. Seeing the Aurora Borealis and experiencing Greenland was truly amazing. I absolutely love being at sea. And I cherish meeting fun people. It’s been a wondrous journey, sailing with Princess Cruises. There are new adventures to plan and anticipate. And I can’t wait.

The end. 

Click the link for all the photos:    https://photos.app.goo.gl/xcMwFHNLFVYkPxuA6

Champagne toast

Cheers from the art auction

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