I Love it When We're Crusin' Together

Last month was largely monopolized by our European vacation. Let’s start with the two most important answer to questions that I know you all have – our toilet worked perfectly, and nobody shit their pants! We did a 2-week Transatlantic cruise from Miami to Southampton, followed by a few days in Portsmouth with our friends from the Panama Canal cruise, Chris & Sarah, and a few more days in the Canary Islands before getting back home. The vacation itself was so much fun (I’ll go so far as to say it’s my favorite that Jack and I have taken together), but I really cannot leave the dog for that long again. 15 days is my max. This was way too long for me to be to be apart from him.

The common theme for this cruise (nay, vacation in general) was the lack of service. Everywhere; across the board. Except, surprisingly, the restaurant we ate at in France, which stereotypically, you might expect the worst service. Also, in the Admirals Lounge in Chicago, where there were way too many people hovering over you.

It all started in Miami. Our flight got in fairly late, and we didn’t make it to our hotel until 9 or so. Our original plan of ordering Dominoes (it’s a whole thing – we only get Dominoes pizza when staying at a hotel, and it’s a very specific deep dish with pepperoni, pineapple, white sauce, and half jalapeno/half banana pepper situation) was foiled when the app denied both of our credit cards, and since we didn’t want to trigger a fraud alert to start off our adventure, we thought it best to leave it alone after a half a dozen tries. So we went downstairs to the extremely overpriced restaurant where we sat for a good 10 minutes before anybody came to check on us. We were immediately told that they were closing soon (they were closing in 55 minutes) and to hurrythefuckup and order. The waitress relaxed somewhat when we said we wanted it to go, but decided for us that we didn’t need to have any drinks, so I had to send Jack to the bar to fetch us libations. Then the waitress had the audacity to look displeased that we’d gone and gotten drinks on our own. Hhhmph.

Honestly, this is a reminder to me to get to writing while vacation is still happening because 1) I enjoy writing, and 2) even though I make some notes in my phone to remember things, the actual details of the story fade pretty quickly and turn it from a hilarious tale into, “what did I even mean when I typed that?” For example, in my notes, I wrote “got Tom-ed in Miami.” Now I can certainly guess that this means that someone that I didn’t want talking to me wouldn’t stop talking to me (see www.HowTheForkDidIGetHere.com/blog/summer-doldrums for a refresher in getting Tom-ed), but at this point, I don’t remember the actual situation. It was probably pretty good, or I wouldn’t have bothered to make a note. But not so good that I remember several weeks later. So I’m going to tuck this in my back pocket for next time, and write while cruising.

Now that I’ve gotten to my second note though, it is kind of coming back to me. My second note reads, “Breakfast bartender.” Let me clarify. We went back down to the hotel’s restaurant the next morning for breakfast since our cruise boarding wasn’t until 2, and sat at the bar this time, thinking we might get better service. This was not the case. After getting drinks, the bartender wandered off to a table (and this is where I connected what “getting Tom-ed” actually means in this context – it wasn’t someone talking to me that couldn’t take the hint to sod off, it was his other go-to irritant), and stood at that damn table talking to them for 15 or so minutes. Didn’t look around to gauge any of the other tables or see who might need tending to. Just stood there. Talking. Incessantly. For 15 minutes. It took a menu tower (which is a menu stood height-wise with another menu laid on top of it, like a sturdier house of cards, just in case you were wondering), some Gatsby-level staring, and a rain dance to get her attention to come take our order. Something similar had to happen to get our check at the end. It was indicative as to what kind of service we would come to expect throughout our entire trip.

Because I slacked (again) at keeping up while it was all happening, I’ll just go over some of the good, the bad, and the weird.

On the Uber drive from the hotel to the pier, I kept hearing a noise coming from the rear of the vehicle. I was convinced the hatch was about to fly open and we were going to lose all of our bags otr the back until I realized that the weird noise was coming from my bag and was my own ‘personal massager’ making the racket. Oops. It was a real treat to dig that out in front of the porter at the pier to shut it off before handing my bag over to him!

The first day on the ship, it seriously took us about 5 minutes to figure out how to turn on the light for the bathroom. I don’t know how this happened, other than the light was not inside the bathroom, and we’re dumb.

Speaking of the first day of the cruise, we always leave a tip for our room steward, and a couple of requests that we have for the trip (ie, we’d like a coffee maker in the room, a bucket of ice each day, etc) that always includes that the contents of the fridge be removed (so that they don’t get in the way of our own stuff, and we don’t get charged for them at the end). We expected that our stew, Philbert, would take these fridge items away with him, like Gede did during the Panama Canal cruise. Instead, he took them out of the fridge, and put them in the rack under the television. Now I’m not knocking him on this, because he did do exactly what we’d asked, it just seemed a very Amelia Bedelia way to go about it. Did he really think we were so lazy that we couldn’t have moved them 3’ away? Just wondering.

Usually on the first day, you have to wait a while for your stateroom to become ready, but since we waited until almost 3pm to board, ours was ready straightaway. An unusual situation unfolded in regards to obtaining the checked luggage later on - the room attendants placed people's luggage in the hallways outside the staterooms rather than bringing it directly into their cabins. This peculiar practice isn’t something I have encountered on other cruises, and rendered the already tight corridors virtually impassable, forcing guests to awkwardly maneuver their way past stacks of suitcases. It was an odd logistical choice, to say the least.

While we’re somewhat on the subject of the fridge, we have a common occurrence in that bizarre things happen in its regards. For example, if you remember during the Panama Canal cruise (www.HowTheForkDidIGetHere.com/Blog/final-days-takeaways), Gede one day removed all of our stuff from the fridge, and it didn’t return for several days. He also randomly locked the fridge for a few days, and then asked if we wanted it unlocked (?). Yes, Gede, we want our fridge unlocked and all the shit in it to stay there. I digress. For the first 6 days of this cruise, our fridge opened on the left side. Then for the rest of the cruise, it opened from the right. No, I didn’t smoke too much reefer, this is a real thing. I don’t know why; I don’t understand; I just know that if we’re on a cruise, strange things are bound to happen with our fridge.

Because there are almost always bathroom problems (I did come prepared with an Rx of just-in-case Cipro this time, but we were lucky enough that nobody needed it), it took several days and multiple tries to figure out how the bathrooms on the Observation Deck worked. They were not manual; it was all automatic, and once you got in, you had to wait for the door to close (trying to force it was like trying to get a recalcitrant dog to give you a cuddle), and in lieu of a physical lock where you were certain your single stall situation was locked, you flipped a switch and hoped that it had worked and that nobody was going to walk in on you. Those bathrooms were clearly ones you don’t poop in.

The second day on the ship, we were walking down the glass steps in the Atrium, and all of a sudden, I was like a baby deer on ice. It was like I’d never walked down a staircase before, and I was clenching the railing and taking teensy tiny steps while my vertigo ran rampant. Jack initially made fun of me, until he had it happen to him a couple days later. It went away just as quickly, and after that I could walk again, but it was uncomfortable, probably for everyone involved as well as anyone watching us. Gotta watch out for those shifty glass stairs.

The cuisine on this cruise, although better than the previous cruise (probably mostly because we had 5 specialty dining credits (in my opinion, the specialty dining is more consistently delicious…the main dining rooms and the buffet are very hit or miss), and my new friend, Jenna, invited me to a dinner with her), still failed to impress. But with 6 nights of specialty dining, I got to have deLICious filet mignon every other night. And my newfound lunch go-to was the soup bar at the Garden Café. It was just glass noodles with cabbage and carrots, with whatever kind of broth they had for the day, and a selection of some kind of minced meat, onions, jalapenos, red pepper paste, and chili flakes to dole out as you see fit, but it was my JAM! The last cruise, finding a decent lunch was my kryptonite; this cruise (and those from here on out, now that I know about this culinary treasure), I was SET!

The service, in general, was on par with Miami, and several menu towers had to be built. Jack and I are both quite patient with things involving the service industry, because we both know what it’s like to work in the service industry, but never should you have to wait double-digit minutes for someone to at least come and greet you. Our first meal in specialty restaurant Ocean Blue, on Day 3, was one of the only meals where we had an attentive waiter. And by attentive, I mean he had eyes only for me, and barely gave Jack the time of day. It wasn’t until he was bringing our dinner plates that I realized what was going on (apparently it had been happening the entire time, I was just in LaLa Land), and then it was hilarious. Just now, when I texted Jack to ask what it was that he’d said about the waiter resembling a Bond villain, his response was, “You mean Mr. Overly Attentive to only you with the extended eye contact?” Hahaha.

It wasn't until our dining experience in Onda, the Italian restaurant, towards the end of the voyage, that we finally encountered a server willing to invest in friendly rapport. Onda was the best of the restaurants, and we happily switched our last remaining specialty dining to enjoy it again.

We had nicer weather than I’d anticipated. I’d figured we might have a couple of sunny days on the way out of Miami before turning straight to cold shit, but we actually got a good week of sun and warmth. Taking advantage of this, we decided on Day 4 to go on the water slides, since we’d greatly enjoyed them on the last cruise. We were in line for the ‘Ocean Loop,’ where you go upside down a couple of times, when we saw a girl get stuck in the slide. At one of the spots where you’re about to be inverted, if you don’t have enough speed going (or enough water, as I’m convinced was the case here… might as well spit and shove it in, for all the water lubing up this particular slide), you’re not going to complete the loop; instead you’re going to slide back and lay there in utter panic until someone comes to open the special hatch they have for just this circumstance. While I was watching this poor girl, I just knew that was going to happen to me, too. Regardless that I went on this slide on the Bliss time and after time without a hitch, I just had a feeling. Sure enough, I went sliding backward into the mist, shimmied my way to the hatch, and gave it a couple knocks, imploring whoever was on the outside to expedite my exit before a full panic attack set in. After that, I decided that would be all as far as the water slides were concerned.

In regards to the entertainment, it was pretty bad. The big show, Choir of Man, was OUTSTANDING (and I learned last cruise to go see the shows their first night, to see if you want to see it again), and we went to it all three nights it was showing.

The featured performers on this cruise (I daresay featured because NCL decided that title would go to the lowest bidder) was the ADDA Band, who sang predominantly in the Atrium multiple times each day/evening/night. The ‘entertainment’ (and I use that term verrrrrrry loosely) one evening was ‘Bandaoke.’ This is exactly what it sounds like, which is karaoke with a live band. With a selection of approximately two dozen songs one could choose from.

I don’t know if I’ve ever talked about my dislike of karaoke before, but it is extreme. I don’t think there is enough potato water in the world to make me say, “You know what sounds like a good time? Listening to drunk people, who may or may not be able to carry a tune in a bucket, sing lame songs.” Call me a Grinch; I don’t care. Karaoke sucks balls.

Alas, Jack wanted to watch Bandaoke (and if I remember correctly, this was some time prior to some gameshow that we actually wanted to watch, so it behooved us to keep our asses parked in the good seats we were in), so we were present for Bandaoke. It was everything I feared it would be. We listened to a decent rendition of Sweet Caroline, and of Hotel California, which, to me, even decent renditions of both are fucking awful, and then listened to a horrible rendition of Sweet Caroline. And then when Bandaoke ended, and the ADDA Band was back up performing by themselves again, they chose to sing Sweet Caroline. Again. I had many, many, but not enough Rosé Palomas that night.

One of my goals this cruise was to try different cocktails. I’m reluctant to veer too far from my usuals at a regular bar where I’m paying for each individual drink, since I’m fairly picky about what I like to drink (nothing fruity, nothing grotesquely sweet, nothing brown), so I wanted to take full advantage of the drink package and try a bunch of stuff. I was doing pretty well, until I was introduced to the Rosé Paloma. Initially, I wasn’t even going to give this one a try, since I’m not a Rosé-All-Day kind of gal. I don’t care for Rosé at all. But when reminded of my goal, I decided why the hell not? And never looked back. The trick with the Rosé Paloma on the Norwegian Encore was to find one of the two bartenders on board who could make it properly. So that meant finding Waldo (real name is Mark, I think, but his glasses reminded me of Where’s Waldo) at the Observation Deck Bar, or Mohammed at the Atrium bar. Anyone else (and I searched extensively for an elusive third competent-at-Rosé-Palomas bartender) was going to make some interpretive version of unpalatable grog. From what I could figure out while lightly stalking Waldo while he was making one for me, the recipe is as follows:

1 jigger each of Grapefruit Juice, Silver Tequila, and Rosé
½ jigger of Lime Juice and Simple Syrup
Shakey-shakey, pour over ice, and top with club soda. YUM.

At the bar is one of the many places one can make new friends on a cruise. Last cruise we were fortunate enough to meet Chris & Sarah (who we still keep in contact with, and indeed visited on the England side of this cruise!) at the Spice H2O Bar, and this time, my faves were Jenna (met during a gameshow at the Atrium Bar; I love me some British friends!) and ‘Uncle Carl’, (who we picked up at the Observation Deck Bar AND LOVES TO DANCE!!!!!!!). It was at the OD Bar that we also had the misfortune of meeting a woman who would be best described physically as the Temu version of Carol Baskin, and who we will now refer to as, “Drink Package Lady” or DPL.

Now let’s start with the fact that everyone in our little group (me, Jack, Jenna, Carl) that evening had a drink package, meaning we could order any drink up to $15, and if we wanted fancy shit, could pay the difference. I’ve never felt the need to pay the difference. The regular drink package is just fine, and the only thing I may ever want the nicer version of is schmancy red wine. But even then, I don’t want it enough to pay the difference. Anyway, DPL had struck up a conversation with Jenna, and I wasn’t paying much attention, until she started griping about the singer for the trio In Sync.

Unlike ADDA Band, In Sync could be counted on for good songs, and a good voice belting them. DPL kept saying that the singer wasn’t hitting the right notes. Now I’m not going to sit here and say I’m a professional musician or anything of that nature, but I am going to say that I’ve been singing my entire life, and I have ears like a fucking bat (Jack will attest to this, since he gets immediate scowls in his direction for having his phone volume up one click while any other noise is playing. He can’t even hear that his phone is up one click; meanwhile I’m across the room plotting his demise), and will tell you that nothing about her performance made my face scrunch up in disdain. I mentioned that I heard nothing wrong with her singing, which DPL wanted to argue with. That was my introduction to Temu Carol, and we never stopped disagreeing after that.

It went downhill rapidly. Each time any of us would order a drink, she’d butt in and tell the bartender to use her upgraded drink package. We said multiple times that was unnecessary and that we were all fine with our respective drink packages, but she would NOT leave us to our own drinks. Like, to a completely, grossly, ostentatious level. I was ready to tell her where she could shove it, but Jenna opted to milk her for everything she could. I appreciate that, in theory, but pandering to her pretention goes against my moral code. I played nice that night, but every other night that we ran into her was a different story.

The ports of call. I hadn’t worried about being bored on a TA cruise because I always have a slew of books downloaded on my Kindle. This was a prime opportunity for reading and relaxing, and I was very into it. But the ports of call (well, some of them) were really cool. I will admit I was bummed that Lisbon, Portugal got swapped out for Zeebrugge, Belgium. That was the one downgrade, port-wise. There isn’t shit to do in Zeebrugge other than go to the chocolate factory and see the chocolate dongs available for purchase (you break them, you buy them) unless you take the tram somewhere that’s not Zeebrugge. Which, since Jack is an old geezer and his knees were bothering him that day, we did not do. Realistically, the weather wasn’t very nice, or else I probably would have wheeled him back onto the ship and gone off on my own.

Ponta Delgada, Azores was alright. We were there on a Sunday, so most things were closed. Unless you wanted to take an excursion somewhere, there wasn’t much to do.

La Coruna, Spain was beautiful. It was a gorgeous day when we were in port, and it was very walkable. As long as you don’t mind walking. A lot. Which I don’t, and walked about 10 miles that day. This day I did go off on my own, wandering from the downtown area to Torre de Hércules, to Menhires pola Paz and Campo da Rata (which was like the Spanish version of Stonehenge, but way better), to the Fine Arts Museum. Unless you like abundant quantities of creepy medieval baby paintings, I’d leave that one alone. It was a great day, but honestly, the best part was when we were getting ready to leave the port…..all-aboard was at 1500, for a 1600 departure. There was a cruise tour that had run late, so the last group of stragglers was boarding at about quarter to 4. Anyone with any kind of cruise savvy knows to honor the all-aboard time. The only exception that cruise lines will make for a late departure is when it involves one of their own shore excursions. So at 1545, this last group hustles on board, and the dock workers start taking up the gangplank. At 1605, some lady and some dude, presumably her husband, come STROLLING up to the ship, and then, when she realizes the gangplank is up and they are not going to put it back down just for her, proceeds to LOSE. HER. SHIT. !! I mean, I’m talking SCREAMING profanities, working herself into such a tizzy that she took a tumble on the pier, LOST. HER. SHIT. The guy, to his credit, seemed to realize that no amount of caterwauling was going to change their predicament, and just stayed gracefully quiet while the lady took center stage. These are things I’ve seen videos of online, but I’ve never seen it in person, and I had prime seating on the Waterfront on Deck 8, right above where the mayhem was taking place. Let me tell you, it was truly spectacular. Highly recommend, for some light afternoon entertainment.

Port-wise, the shining star of this trip was our day trip from Le Havre to Honfleur. Honfleur can only be described as a quintessential, picturesque, French delight. I haven’t seen a place so stinking cute and like it jumped from the pages of a fairy tale since I lived in Bavaria. The winding cobblestone lanes, the colorful, half-timbered houses, the quirky gardens and courtyards behind random gates….. the whole town is a living museum. What character; what charm! And, contrary to the French stereotype, we had some of the best service of our trip at a restaurant there.

That pretty much sums up the cruise portion of this adventure. I’ll work on the post-cruise shenanigans write-up soon. In the meantime, my favorite quotes from the cruise:

® “We shouldn’t be subjected to the Beatles everywhere we go.”
                                    -me, in regards to the hard-on that NCL has with the Beatles on every ship. My argument is that each ship should have different cover bands….I’d love some Queen and/or Rolling Stones. Some act that I’d actually like to go watch. With the Beatles being the central focus, if you're not a fan of their music, your big theater entertainment options are quite limited.
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® “I won a hairy chest contest last cruise!”             “So did Drink Package Lady.”
                                         -Carl                                                    -Jack

® “NCL does desserts right. They’re not aggressively diabetic.”
                                         -me

® “Did I summon this?! This is like my whole piano playlist!”
                                    -me, listening to ADDA Band play When I See You Smile, right after playing Everything I Do, I Do it For You, which together are 50% of the songs I can play with any proficiency on the piano, and which I had just gotten finished listing for Jack while listening to the aforementioned Bryan Adams.

® “I want to feed that to all the faces on my shirt. But not the dog.”
                                    -Jack, wearing the shirt I had made of him that is a tropical print ‘fun shirt’ that has pictures of his face and of Gatsby interspersed on it, referring to the delicious (finally, after many rounds of sub-par shit on the ship that would have been more aptly referred to as flan) crème brûlée we had in Honfleur.

® “Listen to that sweet electric guitar keyboard!”
                                    -me, once again listening to the ADDA Band, whose every electric guitar solo happened on the keyboard. And let me tell you, this pianist was always very pleased with himself! Check out the link below for a prime example.​

Best electric guitar I've ever heard. Or something like that.