CARIBBEAN MUSE - CHAPTER 3

After a couple days at sea we finally made landing on St Marteen or is it Maarteen? Anyway depends on whether you are on the french or dutch or mongolian side of the slab. Interesting story that a Frenchman and Dutchman stood back to back and circumnavigated the island and where they met up was where they planted their respective flags. Apparently, the Dutchman stopped for a bit of grog which allowed the french to make up a little more sand time thus netting more land. Knowing my experiences in French wine country, I am disinclined to believe that bit of forklore. My theory is the Frenchman said "Hey buddy (or the french equivalent) look at the sea monster over there and quickly skidded an oversize buccaneer boot over 20 score paces before the inebriated Dutchman turned back with a WTF?

Several of the party took a segway tour of the beach which included a 45 minute dissertation on how the drive the darned things - complete with video I believe. The result of that was one person giving up entirely and another slamming two parked cars (not our group). Though why they would have novice segwayers negotiating: 1) a parking lot; 2) the beach; 3) a crowded boardwalk. Kind of explains all the skid marks on the walkway.

Still feeling rocky from my diminishing cold I chose to come over a little later with the second wave of tourists, the Barnhouses and Blazsaks. After standing in the hot sun for 20 minutes to take the five minute water taxi over to the harbor I attempted a graceful, lady bountiful leap from the boat to the dock. Two seconds later I was sprawled all over the boat attendant who was heroically trying to keep me from falling into the beautiful turquoise Caribbean. Mark's only comment was "don't dance with the help Sheila". Ah well.

After several frantic forays through mounds of tourists and jammed stores on a route which Mark had carefully mapped out before our arrival, we slowed down a bit to look, touch and try on island garb. I left our little party and went to one of the beachfront bars to await the survivors of the segway adventure (no that's really what they called it). Finally relaxed, enjoying the view, bantering with the bartender and taking a slow sip of my margarita I reached into my pocket only to discover-money, driver's license, boat pass and........ NO CREDIT CARD! Now I travel all the time and this was a first.

Frantic I scooped up the Burt man and retraced my steps. On a whim I stopped in a store where I used the facilities while mentally going over all the actions we would now have to take to cancel the missing card and, of course, having no means of further purchasing power, when I rather forlornly asked the poker faced, giant dutch proprietor if he has perhaps found a credit card. Giving me a stern stare he asked my name. Upon my response he held out the missing card and wonder of wonders did not lecture me on my carelessness (well not much anyway)! Totally relieved and kicking myself for my mental lapse I asked very timidly if I could hug him and thanked him for his honesty. Bought something in his store this time too.

We continued with a daring lunch on the island. Lori later told me she never drinks or eats on land. No obvious effects from our adventure. Actually didn't get our food stomach upset episode until the last day at Margaritiville (but that's another story). We wandered the beach where Burt noticed the topless sunbather. Amazing how man radar works to pick out one small (well actually two) out-of-place objects on a crowded beach. Then 3 ladies too lazy to get off their park bench said I had a face that would look good with corn rows. Not sure what kind of compliment that was.

Final hilarity of the day was watching the returning boat people. We were tied up with 3 other ships and our balcony faced the dock. Some people needed quite a bit of support to make it back on board, though the singing and retching was entertaining. The best show was the 3 boaties laden down with packages who showed up oh, about an hour after their boat had sailed. Their body language was sublime. Pure disbelief. Got all the way to the point the boat was originally tied up and just stood staring. Then they took pictures. That's why you carry your driver's license and a credit card.....

CARIBBEAN MUSE - CHAPTER 2

Have to mention the pen tradition with the Committee. Apparently whenever Lori flies out of Grand Rapids she picks up a pen in the gift shop. As a collectible it lacks future value, but what the hey. Anyway Kathy decided to follow in the tradition and Marcie and I became a part of the "club" as well. Mine was Jose. There was a Luis and a Jesus, Carlos etc. and everyone found their namesake on our trip but me. However I do believe he was around when I heard them singing the National anthem - you know "Jose can you see?" So I am happy.

Funny how quickly you get used to the feel that things are not too steady beneath your feet. Sometimes overtly and others times subtly. Rocking to sleep is nice, I now know why one rocks a baby-really brings you to la-la land quickly or provides a calming effect even when you try to fight it. Apparently takes us back to the womb and the gentle floating feeling when swimming in Mom.

The buffet was an adventure with a wide variety of offerings, most of which were rather interchangeable in taste. Amazing chefs who can make meat, seafood and chocolate all taste the same. Fresh fruit is always available so that was good. Of course everything seems an adventure when you are looking out at the water-no lights or other man-made objects in sight. I have never seen a color to match the incredible navy-blue of very deep water. If I was a painter I would cut off my hand and never lift a brush again once I realized I could not recreate that color in my work. And yes, the Caribbean is turquoise, just like Mother's eyes and warm as bathwater.

However the first day the sea was too rough to land us on the Princess Cay for our first beach day. I didn't mind the extra day of cruising though it would have been nice to get near an on board pool. Apparently if you carve your initials in blood on a deck chair it is yours whether you are physically present or not. The ghost of your desire guards the chair against all invaders. Some confrontations occur so next time I plan on taking an inflatable and staking my claim poolside.

Still recovering from my cold, I tended to wander a bit then go lay down. Get a drink, go lay down. Play bingo, go lay down. Attend a champagne art auction, go- well you get the drift. I was taking my 47th nap of the day Tuesday when I heard the roar from the crowd on deck watching Obama's inauguration. Was able to tune in on my room TV and catch most of it. Very surreal to be cruising the high seas while history is occurring in the States.

Our first dress up night was very elegant and we have the pictures to prove it. Brian was very "james bondish" with his white dinner jacket which he lent Dad for a portrait. Though we thought Dad looked great he was concerned that he looked like an old man. 84 years old and he's afraid he looks like an old man, right. The Committee took a picture with the "old man" which made us look very young, because duhh he "looks like an old man".

Rounded out the evening with a 70's music trivia night where Lori proceeded to kick a--. Got 36 out of 38 points. The one who had 37 must have had help, but she got a bottle of champagne out of the deal.