2020 - Caribbea, Miami / The Super Bowl!
Travellers: Andrea & Ray, with Lisa & Adrian (the Cupcakes)
Jan 24 – travel: Winnipeg–Minneapolis–Miami – depart temperature: -11C/18 km/h wind
As vacation nears, we thought we had the perfect flight plan: leave Winnipeg at 11 am, just over one-hour layover in Minneapolis, then Miami-bound, just in time for some coastal dinner. Then two days before travel, Delta informs us that there’s been a change and we won’t arrive until almost 11 pm. Through some wiggling with the flight agent, Andrea gets us onto the same flight with the Cupcakes—depart at 6:30 am and arrive in Miami at 1:30 pm.
As usual, not much opens this time in the morning at the Winnipeg airport. I grab a chicken with avocado sandwich that looks quite appetising, but the surprise $13 price tag sure makes it less appealing. We’re a small airport; I get it, but gees, the food available at our airport absolutely stinks. I’m not asking for world-class sushi like I get at O’Hare; I would just like some competent that doesn’t elicit a frown when overpaying. It’s an airport; I expect to overpay. For my bloated charge, I would appreciate something worth it.
To be fair, I don’t think I’ve been to a smaller airport than Winnipeg, so this might be the standard for a terminal of this size. The only place for sure where I saw a smaller airport was Piarco at Port of Spain, Trinidad, and they have delicious food there, both Trini and ‘murican. Perhaps Quebec City’s airport doesn’t meet Richardson’s traffic but I recall having excellent poutine there. We often get up early and sleep little before vacation but packing a samich should be top priority for upcoming trips.
First flight done and we thought we’d have a challenge making our connector with only a 40-minute layover, but we get there in plenty of time and wait to board. It’s turns out this is a common connector flight and some of the passengers are veterans. The arrival gate sits perfectly next to the departure gate, meaning we get off the plane, walk 20 metres, and we in the queue for the next flight.
On the plane, the person in front of Andrea tilts her seat back (there’s always one) to watch her show. Because her seat is back, I can see everything on the screen. FFS, she’s watching Keeping up with the Kardashians. Even though I can’t hear it, I can read the captions:
One of them takes a photo of another, saying, “your tush is so round, curvy and beautiful.”
“Look at my beautiful nails.”
“I’m at the spa with all my besties.”
“Getting my hair done today; aren’t I beautiful?”
“True’s first birthday!”
It hurt watching this. Even though I’m in my cramped spot writing on my Surface, I can’t help occasionally looking up and seeing this garbage—and it is garbage. The 3.5-hour flight feels more like a redeye, cramped in our tiny spaces, slaughtering our braincells by the mighty scepter of the Kardashians. I cannot understand. I will never understand why anyone would want to watch this shit.
We finally arrive and words cannot begin to express how nice it is to come out of hiding into the beautiful outdoors and bask under 26C sun. Leaving the frozen tundra of Winnipeg, there is no better feeling in the world—there really isn’t. The first blast of warm, moist air in the face feels like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon after a lifetime of sensory deprivation. After two days of tropic air, dry skin goes away, arthritis goes away and hair starts growing back on my head. Let’s face it—the human species was not designed to live outside the tropics, never mind the frozen tundra.
We stay at our hotel for lunch and drinks by the pool at the Blue Lagoon Saloon. A stroll through the grounds lounging around the pool sounds like a great way to round the afternoon. There’s a certain feeling about Miami, and if you’ve been here, you can’t know it. The water’s blue; the sky’s blue, the buildings are blue—everything looks a bit bluer here. Especially coming from the dull grey of home, this landscape bursts with brilliant colour.
From the pool, a small path leads to an outlook with a panoramic view of the lagoon on three sides. Various lizards flit about, including a shy iguana that quickly disappears out of sight, and a bold one that defiantly lies in the middle of the sidewalk.
The daring fellow isn’t about to move for anything, allowing me to kiss right up to him for a shot of his fierce mug, annoyed that I stare at him while he stares at me.
Jan 25 – Miami: 26C, partly cloudy
Continental breakfast runs $18 and full breakfast comes to $28, which is a hell of a lot of money to pay for bacon and eggs. It’s especially dear when we know that a king’s wealth of food waits at the ship, with endless buffets that transcend the bounds of avarice. We elect instead to holdout on Cupcake’s emergency bars and wait for the promise of the ships reward. We lounge around the hotel pool and head off at noon. We board at 1300h but find out that we could have boarded as early as 1100h (we’ll know better for next cruise).
We wander around and explore the ship to see what it has to offer. We’ve experienced some of Norwegian’s newest and most advanced ships, but this one is by far the shiniest ship we’ve ever seen. You cannot get away from the mirrors, stainless steel and crystals that line every wall. If you hate looking at yourself, this is the wrong place to be. Friends that can’t enough of looking at themselves, this is the place for you.
The opening night presentation in the theatre is the “talent show,” featuring a questionable mime segment and a comical parody of Whitney Houston’s The Bodyguard. This first encounter with Whitney bodes for bountiful encounters with her, lurking to haunt us at any turn.
Although we’re cruise veterans, much of our experience lies with Norwegian Cruise Line, with some exposure to Royal Caribbean. MSC (Mediterranean Shipping Company) is new and unfamiliar to us; our initial exposure reveals some fundamental differences between MSC and other major cruise lines:
- Fewer ‘muricans: This is a huge bonus. Most (All) of our previous cruises found passenger lists dominated by ‘murican customers, drawling around every crook and crevice. On MSC, we hear a lot more non-English speakers; associatively, the announcements last a long time, spanning several languages each time.
- A huge weakness on this ship lies with the elevator capacities. The ship’s aft has two glass elevators and the bow has one bank of four elevators. Fore-midship and aft-midship each have two, four-bank elevators, totalling 22 total elevators to move people. Either this isn’t enough or they’re placed poorly because the elevator wait is sometimes excruciating, and often full when a car finally arrives. Moreover, Yacht Club holders have elevator priority. That means that you can wait for minutes and when the elevator finally looks like it arrives, a Yacht Club summons will bypass all other calls to go to the Yacht Club deck. Sadly, you watch while the car moves past your floor without stopping—it’s priority-call light gleaming. Ok, you can only be so sad when you’re on vacation and you wait with a beverage in hand.
Some ship facts of the MSC Seaside:
- Maximum passenger capacity: 5119
- Crew: 1413
- Delivery (maiden) voyage: 2017
- Cost to build: $1.1 billion CAD
- 21.3 knots cruising speed – 83 700 horsepower
- 14th largest cruise ship in the world at maiden voyage
- Length: 323m (1060 feet) / Beam: 41m (135 feet)
- 18 decks
Jan 26 – seaday, travelling distance 918 nautical miles: high 25C / low 22C
The first full day on board finds us getting to know the ship doing some familiarising exploration. Honestly, when you ask how one spends a seaday (full day sailing with no stopping and no port), I can’t tell you what happens to the hours; they just speed by. We get up at reasonable hours usually, 800h is a fair estimate. Often we play trivia if it’s offered. Today, we score 11/15, finishing in second place. The key question,
“Who was the second person to step on the moon?” Andrea suggests Buzz Aldrin and I offered Michael Collins. We go with my answer, which of course is the wrong answer, and prevents us from tying for the win. I know Aldrin and Collins makes up the remainder of the crew but in my mind, the second person is always the forgotten person, and the name Collins is considerably less well-known than Aldrin. Once again, I outsmart myself by overthought. May as well say Tom Collins and get something in return from the bar.
One of the main reasons we love Norwegian is because of the no-pants policy. That is, you may dine in any of the dining rooms without the need to wear pants. As well, it’s freestyle, meaning you can walk in and get a table any time, just like you would anywhere. On most of the other cruise lines, you have set dining times and you must eat at those times or go to the buffet.
As with most lines, MSC requires pants at the dining room, with today being Elegant Night, where the minimum requirement remains the same, but many people choose to come in formalwear. At the next table, one schmo sits proudly with bathing trunks, muscle shirt and flipflops. Ok, if he can get away wearing that on elegant night, they don’t enforce very heavily. Here I am, sitting in pants like a sukka.
Aside: at an all-inclusive resort, I tried to enter the restaurant with shorts below the knee, but I was turned away. Meanwhile, a girl sat at a bar with cut-offs short, with her ass falling out and the string getting lost in her crotch—but she was okay. It’s completely sexist and next time, I’m filing a formal complaint. Regardless, this is the last time I wear pants on this trip.
This is a huge human failing. Why do so many people care what other people, what other people eat, what other people wear. If you want to wear a tuxedo, go ahead! If you want to walk around naked, be my guest! If you want to wear the opposite gender’s clothes, all the power to you! At the same time, why do you care what I wear?! You wear your evening gown, great, and I’ll wear my shorts. Everyone’s happy. If you don’t want to look at my legs, don’t. I don’t want to see yours either but I’m not going to complain about your dress. Live your own life, people.
The evening game is Majority Rules, a event where everyone votes and the most popular answer wins—not necessarily the correct, but the most popular answer. One of the questions asked of the women only, “Who’s the most beautiful man in the world?” What do you think the most popular answer is?
Jan 27 – San Juan, Puerto Rico: high 25C / low 22C, cloudy – partly cloudy
Normally, ships dock at destinations and you have the morning and afternoon ashore before the ship departs again in the evening. This is our first encounter where the ship docks in the evening, so we have the morning and afternoon on board.
Morning starts with a special coffee that the kind barista created for me. I’m somewhat of a (meaning huge) coffee snob, with pure Kona and Blue Mountain being my normal coffees of choice. Despite my lofty expectations, these coffees are some of the best I’ve ever tasted (likely attributed to the gin). They call them coffee martinis, but I have no idea what’s in them. I didn’t ask—why ruin the mystery? I suspect the ingredients include gin, chocolate liqueur and two shots of espresso.
They’re small so can’t stop at just one!
They taste so good, and they’re so compact, it’s hard to stop at two. My record stands at four (eight shots of espresso in one sitting! That crushes Ava’s quad!).
Coffees in hand, I grab a seat and prep for my first Crossword Challenge aboard a cruise ship. I am in the midst of training for crossword tournaments and hope to be a world-class solver by next year, with a goal to compete in person. I don’t expect these to be world-class difficulty level but gees, these are little better than kids’ crosswords. You Joseph solvers would be champs doing these.
I finish the crossword in two minutes, more than ten minutes faster than the next person. Granted, they don’t want them to be difficult but a Joseph level crossword isn’t outrageous; it’s much more appropriate than a kids’ puzzle, regardless of how many espressos or gins I’ve had.
Didn’t want to engage in much on board knowing we’d disembark early evening, which means dining early before we leave. We play three games of trivia during the day:
1st trivia: 11/15 – lost
2nd trivia: 13/15 – lost
3rd trivia: 13/15 – victory!
San Juan, the capital and largest city of Puerto Rico, holds over 2.5 million residents, and millions more visiting every year. Climate sees normal highs of 32C in summer and 25C in winter.
Coming off the ship, the port leads you right into old San Juan and the forts vigilantly guarding the north coast against invaders. Within steps, we arrive at the Castillo San Cristobal, the largest Spanish-built fort outside of Spain. The grand structure is considered a major military marvel of engineering.
Immediately to the west, we find the Castillo San Felipe del Morro, sitting at the western end of the peninsula, strategically guarding the entrance to the Bay of San Juan. Puerto Rico’s most visited attraction, this fort sees more than two million visitors every year.
Between the two forts lies the most interesting parts of the area: a cemetery and a residential neighbourhood, both of which lie outside the fortified walls.
In the 19th century, the law required cemeteries to situate away from the main community centre. Standing on the ramparts, we look beyond the fort walls and into the heart of the cemetery, apparently in no need of defending. Also not worth defending, the slaves, homeless and non-white servants were not permitted anywhere near the community centre as well; they were forced to settle outside the walls and proximate to the cemetery was all that was available to them.
Thus the birth of la Perla, the Shantytown. The shanty used to be a slaughterhouse, which they converted into housing.
Today, they continue to live there, with little social support except utilities and garbage pickup. To ensure they do not comingle with the main population, only three access points exist. One cuts through the cemetery; one lies to the east side; and the final one sees a walkway descending through the center of the northern wall.
I start down the ramp and get as far as the overhead gate before I retreat and ascend, thinking to myself, “do I really want to go down there?” Wise choice—today, the area remains infected with rampant crime. Surprise!
Before we get too sanctimonious, Winnipeg has the same setup. Instead of a wall, we have a railyard isolating the North End from city centre. At least San Juan has no plans to close any of their three access points. Once the Arlington Street bridge closes next year, that eliminates one more connection the neighbourhood has to the core.
The sun nears the horizon, so we start back towards the ship. Not knowing the area well, I don’t like to be out after dark in unfamiliar territory. Everything looks nice and safe, and we still had a few hours before departure, but you never know when you can take a wrong turn…
…and there’s cognac calling back at the ship.
Jan 28 – Charlotte Amalie, St Thomas: high 27C / low 24C – mostly sunny
Charlotte Amalie (pronounced Ah-mawl-yah) is the largest US Virgin Islands city with a population of just under 20 000. Although the population barely beats out Steinbach, their tourism industry does somewhat better. As one of the busiest cruise ports in the Caribbean, this city hosts three separate ports that can load six cruise liners at any given time. Over 1.5 million cruise ships dock here every year.
The last time we visited St Thomas, the main port remained boarded up from the pier to the beach and it was a long, hot walk before we got out of scaffolding. Now everything looks open and fresh, with hundreds of shops ready and eager to take your tourist money.
With the Cupcakes off to snorkelling, we take a short walk toward downtown where we discover a tram up the side of the mountain, providing a spectacular panorama of the bay and this side of the island.
After a considerable amount of sun in the heat, we return to the sports bar and our favourite bartender.
Aside: sorry, this next part’s a little dense in text with very few photos. My hard drive failed and I lost most of my photos. Some were recovered but the ones covering this section are irreparably lost.
Jan 29 – seaday, travelling distance 824 nautical miles: high 26C / low 23C – partly cloudy
Before going to bed last night, I told the Cupcakes that I saw a notice saying that we move our clocks back an hour before bed last night.
The morning, preparing for our next tour, I see on the monitor a note reminding people to change their clocks tonight. I must have mis-heard last night. I’m glad the clocks don’t go the other way or we would have missed our excursion.
We arrive for the “Behind the Scenes” Tour at 830h. One other participant shows and the three of us wait for 20 minutes before abandoning ship (to coin a phrase). It’s odd since cruise lines never make the mistake of missing presentations, especially paid events.
Visiting the Excursions desk for a refund, we find no one at the station. We make for breakfast instead and enjoy another meal under the Caribbean skies. After breakfast, we try the desk again and someone’s prepping for the day. She advises that they do not open until 900h. I look at my watch (FitBit) and suppose it’s 920h. She said it’s 820h.
Crap, we are supposed to change our clocks; the show I saw on the monitor was a stale re-broadcast. Fortunately, we’re just in time for our excursion, the “Behind the Scenes” Tour now. Here are some quick hits:
- Maximum passengers: ~6000, with ~1500 crew
- Working contracts run between 5 months to 8 months.
- They work 12-14 hour days, with on two-hour break in the middle.
- They work 7 days a week (although they didn’t say how many consecutive days they work before getting days off).
The majority of cruise ship, non-skilled staff start at $6 to $10/hour, topping out at about $13/hour. With poor pay, long hours, cranky customers and awful living quarters, why would anyone want to work on a cruise ship?
The tour starts at the main stage, with a peek behind the stage, the dressing rooms, and the tech station. Costumes are provided but Actors are responsible for their own makeup and bodies (meaning don’t get fat). They have a men’s and a women’s dressing room but basically, you change where you can—with repeating costumes in each of the rooms—privacy is a non-factor.
In the sound/light booth, they have more buttons on the control panel than on the bridge! Most of it’s automated, with redundancies. Should the main console fail, the laptop can run it; if the laptop fails, the tablet can run it. If the tablet fails, the tech can still use a phone! If the phone fails too, we’re already abandoning ship!
Next, we venture up to the Yacht Club, the exclusive area that’s a ship-within-a-ship, if you want to pay for it. Essentially, the increase in price from an interior cabin to a Yacht Club suite is roughly five-fold, yes, five times the price.
They emphasise that you pay for service; some of the cabins are interior with no view out outside. They have their own pool, bar, restaurant, and priority access to events and facilities, including the critical elevators.
For me, I don’t get it. It’s a lot of money to pay to get away from people and enjoy not much more. I suppose though, if your life has been lived among the palms of servants, this is the treatment you want.
Leaving the height of luxury, we descend to the depths of minimalism: the crew quarters. Staff sleeps two to four, to a room. The host explains that bunk beds are small so it’s better to be slim—each person has only square metre of wiggle space so if you weigh 100 kg, you have trouble. They reside on decks 2 to 4; deck 1 is all machinery. Officers get their own room on deck 14 and the Captain’s cabin sits on deck 13.
As with most cruise ships, the crew is very international. Most staff come from The Philippines, India, some from South America. Also consistent with most of our previous cruises, the Captain and many of the senior officers come from Europe. Answering my question from earlier, here you find the reason why people so willingly work on cruise ships. We live in Canada, a G-7 nation with one of the highest standards of living in the world. To us, $13/hour is a pittance. In the Philippines, the minimum wage can sit as low as $5/hour, and in India, it’s only $3/hour, and may be lower in some authorities. Doesn’t $13/hour on a cruise ship that takes you to some of the most beautiful places in the world. As a bonus, cruise staff can sponsor immediate family to cruise for as little as $15/day. Never forget how good we have it here in Canada.
On deck 3, there is one medical bay for both passengers and crew. It’s a small area and not meant to treat mass events. In case of emergency, we may have to do our own doctoring!
From there, we journey deeper in the belly of the beast and find the food preparation kitchens and galley. Attempting to be more inclusive, MSC combined the officers’ mess with the crews’ mess into three halls with no segregation.
Here are some quick hits about the food:
- 8000 litres of draught beer per week (not including the bottles)
Made every day:
- 1000 wraps (if fast, she can make it in ten hours) – I guess some of them work piecemeal.
- 100 kg of fresh-made pasta (with added dried pasta as needed)
- 20 000 buns
- 12 000 portions of desserts daily
- 12 000 luggage bags from each voyage
Before going into the food preparation areas, they required us to put on slippers, scrubs, cap and mask (I apologise that all the photos from this segment were lost in the hard drive failure). It’s a bit of overkill at the time but today during pandemic mania, we would fit in with the rest of the world.
As we move from staff-only section to section, a “Secret Service” person follows closely with an earpiece. I wonder what deep, dark secrets they keep that they don’t want us to see?
The tour ends at the wine bar with a snack, wine and Q&A.
Off to trivia where we score 12/15, one question away from winning. Here is the pivotal question: what is a group of beavers called?
Butterflies Opera
The actual opera, Madama Butterfly runs about two-half hours (like all operas) so there’s quite a bit shaved off this truncated one-hour version. They wiped all the dialogue, some of the overture and much of the instrumental interludes. Essentially, the show runs from aria to aria.
The combination of the surtitles and the side-titles is enough to give any viewer the gist of the story without any foreknowledge of the uncut opera or storyline.
The production also cuts much of the cast, leaving just the soprano and the tenor as the leads, with some piped vocals where needed. The addition of the ballet dancers adds an element of diversion and the aerial acrobat metaphoring the cocooning in the second Act overture borderlines genius.
The show retains all the power and beauty of Puccini’s masterpiece as it effortlessly glides from scene to scene. My only complaint comes with the conclusion. Whereas Puccini exploits your emotions and drags the tragic denouement until tears erupt from your eyes, the brevity of this closure misses a lot of the horror of what happens at the end. The entire dialogue from the son is eliminated, as well as most of Pinkerton’s remorse, and all of Butterfly’s reconciliation. Perhaps that’s intentional—maybe they don’t want people leaving in tears on what’s for many, the vacation of a lifetime!
Madama Butterfly is one of my favourite operas and this condensed version makes it completely embraceable for all but the most misanthropic audience. At the intro, the Cruise Director explains that MSC is the only line that features opera in its show playlist, in an effort to expose one of the world’s most beautiful artforms to new and existing patrons. I’m stunned that at a 4 pm showing, the show manages to pack in 1000 viewers (sellout) in its audience (with a few no-shows here and there). If you ever sail with MSC and it’s on, you must see it. It’s a true delight to the eyes, ears and senses.
Jan 30 – Nassau, Bahamas: high 26C / low 19C – sunny
We’ve been to Bahamas more than any other Caribbean island. Probably because it lies very close to Miami, it’s a favourite destination of cruise lines. This visit, we return to downtown Bahamas, a must-cross en route to the Straw Market, one of the “highlights” of Old Nassau. This densely packed market features dozens (if not hundreds) of vendors selling the usual souvenirs, gifts, crafts and tchotchke. Covering several city blocks, the expansive market hawks every type of souvenir you can dream of, but after wandering through a few aisles, you realise that it’s all a repetition of the previous aisle. Through flank after flank of similar souvenir plonk, ennui sets in and we turn north from the pier, away from the Straw Market, where we’ve never gone before. The main street deteriorates one block after the pier and suddenly we stroll among abandoned and boarded-up storefronts. Fortunately, our turnoff comes after only a couple of blocks and we turn west, straight up the mountain. After some time, and a walk past the nation’s penitentiary, we encounter The Queen’s Staircase, carved into the mountainside, flanked by a lush, serene waterfall.
Sixty-six steps and 31 metres later and we arrive at the base of Fort Fincastle. The Fort provided defence against both pirates and other colonising states aiming to re-colonise the British isle. The British built the Fort atop Bennet’s Hill, the highest point on the Bahaman island. Two 12-pound, two 24-pound, two 32-pound cannons and a howitzer guard the coast. The fort doubled as a lighthouse and later, a signal station.
After another long day in the sun, the return to the ship guides us straight to the sports bar and our favourite bartender Ronald. In great spirits, one of us consumes, let’s call it a fun amount of beverages, cocktails and shooters (hint, it wasn’t me – or either of the Cupcakes!).
Jan 31 – Ocean Cay, MSC Marine Reserve: high 23C / low 22C, sunny – partly cloudy
Cay. Kay. Quai. Quay. Key. Regardless of the spelling, the pronunciation is “kee.” The ship docks onto Ocean Cay as we hit a quick breakfast before the island.
At any of the buffets, if you want bacon, sausage eggs, or any other western breakfast, there’s no shortage of food, replenishing as quickly as people take it. If you want ethnic breakfasts, there’s only one counter, featuring a couple of Indian options, and plain congee with some stir-fried meats and fried rice, the only Asian options.
For the second day in a row, there were only dregs left in the congee pot. The person in front of me (an Asian lady of course) scoops some, leaving the scrapings. I take the pot, tilt it, and start ladling out the remainder. True to what my mom would have done, she tells me to put the pot down; she doesn’t believe that I should eat the dregs. She calls the cook to replenish the pot. I insist that I’m all right taking the remainder—but no, she insists. The cook takes the pot away and I’m left waiting. After several minutes, one of the other cooks asks if I want something and I tell her that I’m waiting for congee. She said she’ll get it. She doesn’t return either. Knowing the Cupcakes are waiting for me, I just dump some Indian onto my plate and go. Don’t get me wrong—I love Indian and it’s a bonus that it sits right beside the Oriental station but I crave congee.
I know she means well but if she would have just let me have the dregs, I would have gotten to eat what I want, and not waste ten minutes for something that never comes. This happened countless times in my life—for want of something better, I lost what I could have had.
After quickly downing breakfast, I venture to explore Ocean Cay. Ocean Cay is MSC’s private island, newly open and partly still under construction. The palms trees all stand by virtue of their braces, freshly transplanted and not yet rooted. There’s no shade anywhere but you can tell that in ten years, this will be a true paradise. As soon as you enter the gateway, a gauntlet of staff greets and welcomes you, clapping to the sound of island music. You feel like you just finished the Boston marathon, instead of going to the beach to lie and drink!
This island has no shortage of space so if you want to see and be seen, you have lots of area to strut your stuff. If you prefer a beach all to yourself, walk another half-kilometre (or take the shuttle), and you’ll find that too. MSC strategically places food trucks every few steps, all advertising “free lunch” so a burger or hot dog is never far out of reach. The restaurant at the hub offers most of what you find on the ship’s buffets, if you want to opt for something more. There’s also no shortage of beach bars offering beverages to fight that beating Caribbean sun.
After a recon mission, I return to the ship for a quick bite and change into beach wear, before returning to the cay. During my initial exploration, I determine that Paradise Sands is the best place to go for quiet, with the greatest potential for fish-sighting. Facing the open waters means that it’s not as protected as the lagoon, but also a better hideout for the fishes. The MSC snorkeling excursion point sits at the west side of the cay, but that’s also the roughest side with the highest waves—probably not a good spot to snorkel without a lifejacket.
Barely after putting my bag down, Cupcake comes up the beach; their stakeout only lies metres away. It’s amazing how things work out sometimes. Cupcake examined the map earlier and deduced the two best beaches to home-base at: Bimini Beach or Paradise Sands. After getting there and seeing the size of the beach, I give up thinking I’d never be able to find them. I just look for a nice spot to settle, expecting to be alone, and we bump into each other by accident at North Beach. I prowl through the waters for the next three hours looking for fishes. Not including a couple of schools with members about the size of aquarium fish, I may have sighted six fishes longer than a foot—two fish an hour, probably better results that fishing off the Red River. And I would eat these fish; the thought of eating Red River fish gives me the heebie jeebies.
Since Andrea’s not feeling tops, she stays in and I use her snorkeling equipment, which doesn’t quite fit me. The mask is a tad smaller than my face, which means that I either have a leak from the forehead, or from under the chin, depending on whether I float or walk. Even though the waters remain quite calm, I don’t want to go too far without a lifejacket.
Most of the time, I search for fishes at the sandy areas. Then it comes to me that they’d rather hide in the weeds, where they’re not in the open. The weedy areas are a lot deeper, so I don’t go too far into them, but they do yield some results. Now how do I swim and take photos at the same time?
This is the most time I spent in the water in one stretch and after coming out, I feel the results—both ears plugged solid. Getting back on board to hose off the salt water and thirst sets in. It’s been hours since, sitting in the Seaview Bar and sipping on pina colodas, but the hearing’s not returned yet. Switching to Bombay martinis isn’t helping either.
For dinner, unlike Norwegian, we have the same table every night, with the same neighbours and the same servers. We sit somewhat in the middle of the aisle; it’s not ideal but we get used to it after a while.
The excursion “Beachside Stargazing” looks like a great way to take star photos, hundreds of kilometres from any metropolis and the requisite light pollution that comes with it. Before departing on our vacation, I opined whether I needed to bring my tripod—and concluded that I’d have no need nor opportunity to use it. Well here’s the need. Stellar photography needs long exposure and a steady camera, the kind that can only be had on a tripod. Damn.
Instead, I debark to see if I can find a post or boulder to balance the camera. To my delight, I discover that the lighthouse light show is about to begin. That’s a fortunate coincidence. They clad the entire lighthouse in LED panels, which provide a spectacular lightshow, especially combined with the accompanying music and lasers/spotlights.
Unfortunately, my hard drive failed, and I lost all those photos. This shot shows the lighthouse during the day, but all of the night photos are gone. I even tried to backup but uploading to one of my clouds, but I couldn’t get them all uploaded. Hard lesson for next time: bring physical backup—lots. It still pains me to think of the photos I lost. I am very grateful for the ones that a kind person from work managed to recover for me. I already warned Andrea about how many hard drives will come on the next trip.
Feb 1 – Return to Miami: Partly cloudy, 25C, mist – light rain
Breakfast among the birds is an interesting concept as the return to Miami’s port means the reappearance of seagulls searching for food. Any unattended dish doesn’t last more than a few seconds before beaks come pecking at anything that remains. We concluded breakfast and the bird show, then disembark.
We arrive at our hotel, the Opera Tower, which is actually a VRBO-type property, harvested through Hotwire. I highly recommend this site for future stays as it sits in a great location in downtown Miami and comes with a reasonable price tag compared to similar hotels. Here we connect with Kenny G.
We head off to South Beach in search of a KC jersey and other necessities. Lunch finds us at a Cuban restaurant on Lincoln Boulevard among the epicenter of Floridian activity.
Whereas Winnipeg ran out of Chefs and 49ers jerseys early on, Miami stores teem with them. Chefs jersey and Super Bowl jacket in hand, I’m set for the big game.
Somewhat cashed out by the day’s exposure to sun, heat and humidity, pizza delivery and cognac rounds out the day nicely.
Feb 2 – Super Sunday: 20C – Sunny
Leftover pizza and half a box of Supergreens keeps me going until the pregame party. A walk down the shore takes us to the Bayside Market and the first beverage of the day—a delicious Monkey Business, made with a generous portion of rum and a pulverised banana. Cocktails with actual, fresh fruits tastes so much better than the syrup crud we get at home. I can drink these all day.
And of course, charmer Cupcake becomes life of the parky!
Some music and beverage by the shore and it’s time to venture to the stadium.
In hindsight, we would have spent Super Morning at South Beach and watching the live broadcasts but regardless, we’re en route to The Super Bowl!
Being a fair distance from downtown, it takes our cab a while to get there and by the time we arrive, hoards already stood in line waiting for the outer gates to open. Within the grounds, five pregame parties run concurrently.
If you want to be on the grounds without any benefits, you can get in and be part of the action. Food trucks, vendors and kiosks provide beverages and food. The Tailgate party welcomes those who want to celebrate football without going to the actual game. Those tickets run $500 a piece and come with open bar and food provided/inspired by Guy Fieri (talentless hack).
The Touchdown Club, our party, opens to all who hold tickets to the game. The party includes open bar with access to top-shelf beverages and foods complements of Miami’s finest local restaurants. A separate party caters to those with lower bowl tickets and finally, the exclusive party only hosts the 50-Club, those with tickets between the 30-yard lines in the lower bowl (where they modified the seats to feature recliners). Here’s a photo of how one patron makes use of her 40-yard line, $100 000 seat ticket:
Delivering on its promise of delicious foods, some of the samples include:
- Fried mahi mahi and chips
- Nachos
- KC style ribs
- Asian wings
- Pulled pork
- Mexican rice
While all the regular potables are available, here’s the hit of the event: a blue mojito [basically a stiff mojito injected with blue curacao (koor-ah-sow)].
Even “celebrity” guest-host Dan “the Crier” Marino couldn’t dampen this party. Despite his feats on the field, The Crier gained notoriety when Deion Sanders teased him as both Brett Favre and Peyton Manning were about to break his records, mocking him as he’ll drop to third on the list. On air and in the middle of broadcast, Marino took to tears and dismissed the inevitable, saying that the game was much harder during his era. Today, Marino’s past achievements are almost off the leaderboard as Drew Brees and the Dirty Bastard Brady have further notched him down. Marino was absolutely correct when he said that Dirty Brady’s data shouldn’t count because he cheated to get there.
Afterwards, Adam Schefter, NFL reporter and specialist known for breaking the big story, comes onto the stage. Asked to break the news about who will win Super Bowl LIV, Schefter says that he’ll break the news…right after the conclusion of the fourth quarter!
Four hours of preparty and everyone’s ready to move into the stadium. The NFL did a great job here. For the price of the ticket, they have no obligation but to offer you a seat at the event. The party is a fantastic gesture from the league to ensure everyone has a great time.
I have never witnessed this kind of excitement as it permeates the air in this atmosphere. You feel the energy as the time ticks down to kickoff.
And here’s opening kickoff!
Happy hour started at 11 am and now it’s seven hours later and the bar’s closed (for me anyway!). I’m at the Super Bowl—there’s no way I’m missing a single second of the biggest event of the year to stand waiting for the pisser. For the entire game, I sit glued to our seats, never leaving for any reason.
I can’t understand it. Through my entire life, I have had this ridiculous magnetism to draw the person with the biggest head to right in front of me. In fact, kickoff comes and I thought I lucked out by drawing two empty seats in front of me. Then again, what’s the likelihood there are empty seats at the Super Bowl? Of course, pumpkin-head comes along and cuts a swath directly out the middle of my view. I seem to have the pumpkin-head curse where it follows me to all major stadium/arena events.
It’s not that bad; I held the camera down to take this shot. His melon does get in the way but nothing I couldn’t adjust to.
At halftime, the score stands at 10-10. Since we both cheer for the Chefs (Kenny G’s been a long-time fan, dating back to our first game in KC in 2001), it’s not going as we hope, wanting to see a Chefs lead. There’s still half a game and the Chefs’s comebacks make legends.
Prepping for halftime, I spent three months listening to the music of Shakira and Jennifer Lopez. I only know Shakira for hits like “Whenever, Wherever,” “Hips Don’t Lie,” and “Waka Waka,” and I like them, but I didn’t know much beyond that. Listening to her portfolio, I found I LOVED the Latin work. I ran the music repeatedly in the office, my office neighbours be damned (especially Nacho!).
I tried equally hard to like J-Lo but I just couldn’t. It’s too poppy with no depth. Still, she put on a great show and the pair of them staged a spectacular show.
You know very well, the 49ers hold the lead well into the fourth quarter. As the Chefs mount a comeback, Mahomes throws an interception and much of the stadium thinks the game’s over. With just over six minutes left in the game and giving up the ball, it seems hopeless.
Then the Chefs comeback with 21 unanswered points to win…
After the game, Kenny G proudly proclaims that,
“This is the best day of my life!” He quickly footnotes the statement, “don’t ever tell Camille I said that.” I counter,
‘I take that to mean that today exceeds your marriage day and the birth of both your children as “best day?!”’ He responds,
“Yes, it beats my wedding day and definitely beats the children’s births!”
“All right Kenny, I won’t tell her, but I can’t help it if she reads my travel journal. I can’t keep this kind of thing unwritten!” Kenny adds,
“It’s all right. You can tell her. As soon as the Chefs won, I think Camille already knew that! This is a true dream come true.”
"This was one of the best days of my life, behind my wedding day, the day I met my wife, the days we had our kids, every one of my wife's birthdays, everyone anniversary, and every day I spend with my wife."
Of course, we stick around for the presentation of the Lombardi Trophy.
One of the common questions in hear this trip is, “how did you decide to see the Super Bowl?” Let’s face it, you just don’t hear about people going to the Super Bowl. A colleague from work said that it’s a dream vacation because of the two cruises. Yes, two cruises on one trip is a glorious vacation—but the fact is, many people cruise. I told her that that three-quarters of the office have taken a cruise, or multiple cruises, in their lives. However, throughout your life, you probably won’t meet one person who can say they went to the Super Bowl.
Someone else called going to the Super Bowl “a bucket list” item. That’s not true either. A bucket list item should be something that’s actually approachable. It may be difficult, but it’s achievable. These are my actual bucket list items (in no particular order):
- Ascending the Burj Khalifa
- Seeing Gaga in concert
- Snorkelling the Great Barrier Reef
- Tasting Domaine de la Romanee Conti
- Dining at la Tour D’Argent
- Hiking down one side and up the other of the Grand Canyon
- Climbing the Sydney Harbour Bridge
- Climbing the Great Wall of China
- Climbing Mt Kilimanjaro
- Visit every province/territory
- Write a book
- See Machu Pichu
These to me are typical bucket list items. They’re hard or challenging in some fashion, but they’re not impossible. Seeing the Super Bowl is in a different league—seeing the Super Bowl is more of a dream-come-true, than a bucket list item. For many, seeing the Super Bowl in person is like going to the moon; it’s on the threshold of impossible. For us, today is a dream comes true. Not convinced? Jim and Gumma took this journey with us all those years ago; they were part of the plan to eventually see the Super Bowl. Today, they’re not here. That dream did not materialise for them. For me and Kenny G, today is every bit as good as winning a lottery ticket (except lottery ticket wins never manifest). It still seems unreal.
We’re at the freakin’ Super Bowl!
And we just witnessed Kenny G’s team kick ass.
Feb 3 – depart Miami: high 32C / low 26C – Sunny
Going to bed at 0430h means that I’m in no condition to get up for breakfast (although in actuality, it only nets me an extra 60 minutes of sleep). We board the ship just before noon to explore the ship.
Whereas last cruise, we sailed on the MSC Seaside, one of the newest and most advanced ships on sea, this cruise takes us aboard the MSC Armonia, the smallest ship in the MSC fleet (along with her sister ship, the Sinfonia), and the oldest ship, sailing since 2001.
Some ship facts of the MSC Armonia:
- Maximum passenger capacity: 2679 passengers
- Crew: 721
- Maiden voyage: 2001
- 21.1 knots cruising speed – 42 484 horsepower
- Smallest ship in the MSC fleet
- Length: 251m (824 feet) / Beam: 32m (105 feet)
- 9 decks
Feb 4 – seaday, travelling distance 736 nautical miles: high 25C / low 20C – sunny
So far, we’ve had our asses handed to us in the trivia games, including the World Championship Quiz game. Pictionary doesn’t do any better for us as we lose by a point. A huge part of our failing comes from Andrea’s (out best drawer) pick. The card is Whitney Houston. How the f___ are you supposed to draw Whitney freakin’ Houston?! We paired up with a newlywed couple from Carolina who play the game very well, but not well enough to overcome Whitney Houston. Haunted by Whitney again.
The host points out that many of the players wear pink today, all of whom are women except for one guy wearing a red-ish t-shirt. The host says that he’s close to pink and he sternly shakes his macho, drawl-filled head uttering “NO.” Wearing a fuchsia shirt, I tell our host that she can claim me as wearing a pink shirt, but she says it’s not; it’s purple.
I find it incredible that there are so many guys out there who are so weak with their masculinities that they’re offended at the thought of wearing pink. On second thought, I shouldn’t be surprised. Even some of my friends are homophobic in this day and age. Someone (a prototypical he-man) from work asked me a while back how I can be so comfortable in my masculinity to wear a blatantly fluorescent pink shirt. I told him that I’d be happy to wear a dress if it doesn’t unnecessarily put a target on my back. He looked at me in disgust—those homophobic friends of mine probably would too.
Back on track, making up for our losses, we win the scavenger hunt, which searches for items including photos, things from the room, and a map of the ship, which Cupcake already procured for us earlier. Here’s me taking a photo in front of a purple flower, which is the target.
One of the things I love about being on a cruise is the opportunity to walk around for days without carrying a phone or wallet. I will never be the person who’s welded to the phone; I hate my phone. I don’t hate it because it’s cheap or slow. It’s actually state-of-the-art but I just don’t like having an extra appendage that anchored to a rope. I only have it because I need it.
During this scavenger hunt, I wish I had my phone with me. We’ve never had to take selfies with objects before or I would have brought it. Trust me when I tell you that taking a selfie with a full frame professional camera isn’t the easiest thing to achieve. It’s a beautiful camera that’s built to do a lot of things—this isn’t one of them.
Feb 5 – Ocho Rios, Jamaica: high 30C / low 23C – sunny
An early excursion takes us ashore in the morning en route to the Dunn River Falls, famous for the hand-in-hand scaling of the cliffside amid the water as it cascades around you. Water shoes on and our first glimpse of the falls presents a daunting view of what we’re about to encounter, how people seem to mount it, and the precarious perch standing between them (and soon to be us) thrill and death.
Passing the viewing platforms, the sight evokes thoughts of how much fun I’d have spending the day (and weeks) simply taking photos of the people on the falls. I just need a tripod and I’m set (damn tripod). Reframe: I’d rather spend the day taking fantastic shots of people and their expressions as they try to cross and climb the mountain face, than risking life while getting blasted constantly with water.
Reaching the falls basin, our guide gathers the group and assembles everyone in a line—hand-in-hand. After a couple of crossings, you start to get the feel of the surfaces and what you face. It doesn’t take long until an older lady asks,
“Is he going to make us hold hands the entire way?” Trust me crow, I want to hold your hand less than you want to hold mind. If you have phobias about holding someone else’s hand, especially a homophobic fear of holding the hand of someone of the gender, don’t bother coming here. Indeed, you need to count on the next person’s brace at multiple points to get you up to the next foothold. After a while, the chain breaks, but the start gives you awareness that the next person is there to help you when you need it.
For the next 90 minutes, we ascend the waterfall. At times, the water comes down so hard and fast, it’s difficult to lift your foot against it. A bit of perseverance is all you need and you’re fine. Initially, I see the faces of the rocks covered in green, reminiscent of the slime/algae-covered surfaces of the rocks along our riverbanks at home. Those comparisons forebear certain slippage and death but after a few climbs, you quickly realise that green rock surfaces here offer superior grip. Combined with the rubber soles of my water soles, my foot doesn’t budge if I don’t want it to. A few more switchbacks and I gain confidence that this will be very achievable.
Every few passes, you come upon another plateau, forming a pool area for rest and photo-ops. During my last vacation, I lost (Flair Air stole) my waterproof camera. I would not have purchased another one thinking that I would never take professional grade water photographs. These may not be professional shots, but these are some of my most cherished of the trip. Resulting from the unmitigated beauty of the area, the ultimate uniqueness of our feat, this is one of the greatest times I’ve ever had (obviously in a very different way to the Super Bowl). I cannot express how happy I am doing this, rather than standing on the side with a tripod.
If you’re ever here, you must do this—it’s a total blast! The Jamaicans say, “no wet no fun,” and they’re right. We got soaked from toe to head, and it was fun for every second of the experience. The total run lasted two hours and the ascension covered 600 feet. Our group went considerably slower because we had the fortune of a lady from Alabama who insisted on pushing everyone aside to be at the front of the pack. At about 65 years old, she towed along a friend of similar age, shorter height, and 300 pounds of girth.
Should this crew lead any sort of physical activity?
There were a few moments when we were stuck on rockfaces and not moving because you only move as fast as your leader; and they were our leaders. In the end, I didn’t care. It’s hot (30C) but we’re bathing in a waterfall the entire way. The extra half-hour of our journey just means that I get an extra 30 minutes to stand in the waterfall. Absorb that: we climbed through a waterfall from its basin to its source at the top—bucket list material!
Feb 6: Georgetown, Cayman Islands: high 30C / low 23C – sunny
Another early excursion to turtle adventures. The Cayman Islands has two major industries: tourism and banking, where people hide money tax-free. Based on the shiny buildings, Cayman lives up to its reputation of being a place of wealth. Our guide indicates that, along the affluent strip, condos average $2.5 million a suite, with nothing around for less than $1 million. Other areas of the island, however, sees housing sales starting at $150 000.
Even though we’re on our way to visit a turtle breeding and repopulation area, we discover that the national dish of the Cayman Islands is turtle stew! Alas, turtle stew isn’t on the menu of the turtle habitat.
During my childhood, probably age seven or so, I had a pet turtle. I didn’t have it for long, maybe a week, maybe a bit longer. When we got it, I thought it was a pet—until my mother cooked it. I still remember the incident with great detail but I’ll spare you the horror of how it happened. Afterwards, I had to eat it. I hated that.
Turn the clock forward many years and I find turtle to be a delicacy in New Orleans. Trying the turtle soup at Commander’s Palace (one of the top tables in the country), I found a new love for turtle.
Now seeing them in a sanctuary, I’m not sure how I would feel about eating them. If we end up at a Cayman restaurant, I may have to try. For now, it’s just fine for me to observe them.
At the habitat, it’s time for annual check-up of all the turtles of breeding age. Medical staff drain the main pool to a puddle and use a crane to hoist up each and every turtle for examinations.
“Teenage” turtles (pre-breeding ages) have their own pool areas, as well as the babies. As part of the petting exhibit, they permit petting of these turtles. At this stage, they start to teach them ninja moves.
Afterwards, we dive into the snorkelling pool, where we interact with a variety of fishes, and of course, the turtles. With a high of 30C, this is the perfect day for swimming with the turtles. Of course, it’s much easier find turtles when you snorkel in a turtle reservoir, rather than the open seas.
In fact, it’s much easier to see every other kind of sea inhabitant as well. I never tried snorkelling until a few year ago (as an excursion on one of our cruises) and I could not soak in (pun intended) the beauty and the vastness of another world below the waves. That’s actually not true. I tried snorkelling when I was about six years old at Winnipeg Beach. Half a century ago, the waters of Lake Winnipeg weren’t much clearer than they are now and I figure out what people saw in it. My world was only as large as Manitoba back then and the exquisiteness of the Caribbean was as real to me as the mountains of Mars.
As a child, the sea fascinated me and I had a stretch where I thought about taking ichthyology as a profession when I finished school. Perhaps if I experienced the kind of sea conditions here when I was a child, I might be an ichthyologist or marine biologist today.
Cayman boasts tourism as its second-largest industry; this small city of 70 000 population hosts half a million tourists every year. With this many visitors, I am very surprised that the Islands do not have a cruise ship port. For ports without a dedicated pier, access means tendering. Some destinations provide tender returns while other require the cruise ship to use its lifeboats.
To people with Titanic on the minds, these lifeboats look nothing like Life of Pi, where you float on a oared boat, sitting on the slats, and hoping you don’t have to eat the dog if you get lost at sea. Modern lifeboats hold over 200 people, with larger ones having a capacity of almost 400 people. They have engines anywhere from 200 to 400 horsepower and can move people through the roughest waters.
That is exactly the complaint about having to tender. Even though the waters seem motionless on the ship, you can potentially bounce considerably on a tender, despite their sizes. If you have bad seasickness, maybe tenders aren’t for you.
Return for trivia: our first victory on this ship because of Tom and Jerry. When we first boarded, the PA announced the pleasure it was for the crew to welcome Tom and Jerry once again on their ship. We had no idea who Tom and Jerry were—were they costumed ambassadors? It didn’t long before we met T&J; they’re long time cruisers, apparently on their 90th cruise with MSC (or something like that).
That’s great for them but we quickly discover that they play all the games, including trivia. They played enough times where they memorised all the questions–and the ones they couldn’t remember, they kept a notebook with all the answers. It comes as no surprise that they win all the games.
They cheat.
On day five of the cruise, we meet up with Tom in the British Pub, who proudly announces that he has enough of the prizes where he makes crafts with them. At what point does your greed subside? When does enough is enough come along? Your cheating takes away opportunities for genuine players’ chances at souvenirs—souvenirs of which you have an embarrassing amount already. How about giving someone else a chance at a souvenir to take home? Despite your cheating Tom and Jerry, we managed to beat you this round—suck on that, cheaters.
Waiting for the next event, Andrea decides that she wants a drink. Ok, it’s happy hour! She orders a Chococcino, a coffee, milk, chocolate and liquor beverage. However, she holds the coffee and liquor, essentially getting a hot chocolate.
Andrea retreats to a nook to read, leaving me alone to wait for the next game. Surface on the table and drink in hand, I compose a bit before the host arrives. The name of the game is “King of the Seas,” so I’m curious as to what this involves. It doesn’t take long for me to find it out it’s a Michael Jackson quiz where you must dance to the song after you guess it correctly.
Great. It’s my favourite artist in the world. I just love Michael Jackson because I idolise child molesters and kiddie rapists. I was just about to leave but Cupcake comes along so we stay to play. The first song comes up and it’s “Billie Jean.” No one else gets it. I cannot freaking believe it; I’m the only one who knows the intro notes to “Billie Jean.” I guess I’m the biggest child molester fan in the audience.
I quickly tell Cupcake and he jumps up and answers correctly. He follows up by dancing to the song and wins the prize. Since he’s not eligible anymore, that leaves me to answer for our team. Needless to say, we get no more after that. [Sorry, those photos are lost with the drive corruption]
The last time I danced was on our wedding day. Leading up to our wedding, we hired a dance instructor. After several lessons, and dumbing down our selections several times, we got down to our final run-throughs. During one of those sessions, Andrea says to me mid step,
“Loosen up! You’re very stiff.” So I thought I loosened up. Then she says to me, “Now you look like Stevie Wonder.”
That wrapped up a lifetime of dancing for me.
Feb 7: Costa Maya, Mexico: high 29C / low 20C – cloudy
From the port, Costa Maya looks like flat terrain, lushly covered with deep green foliage and palms all around the coast. A few faux temples indicate a water park nearby, as well as zipline and other jungle adventures. Proximate to the pier, one of the best-developed tourist villages offers all sorts of souvenirs, trinkets and the usual tropical clothing. In addition, restaurants, bars and cafes offer a variety of refreshments. Activities includes dolphin discovery and an aviary, with plenty of transportation into town, excursions or the nearby Mayan ruins.
The last time here, we stayed in the village, shopped and took advantage of the Wi-Fi at the bars. Today, we happened onto the aviary located within treetop sanctuary, accessible through suspension, rope bridges.
With your entry fee ($12/person), you get a small cup of seeds, half-filled with small seeds, and a handful of sunflower seeds. The guide instructs you to hand the sunflower seeds to the larger birds by two fingers and allow the smaller birds to come to your cup.
It doesn’t take long to have our first encounter with a large parrot-like bird, who is very happy to take seeds from our hands very gently. Aside: long ago, I dated someone who owned a parrot. They live an average of 75 years and they bond to you—a pet parrot is a lifelong commitment. If I get a parrot right now, it would outlive me and I would need an heir to dedicate decades of bird-caring. I also learned then that a parrot can snap off your finger as easily as pruning shears. Handing seeds to these birds seems like somewhat of a risk but they’re gentle as gentle can be, taking the seed from you with their tongue before cracking it in their powerful beaks.
The next sanctuary gives us the first encounter with beautiful smaller birds who have no shyness about coming and landing on you. Of course, they want the seeds, but they landed all over me, even though Andrea held all the food. I had quite a few on my shoulders, a few on my arms, and a couple of my head. I am sure I would end up covered in bird shit, but I come away tainted. Despite the dozens of birds perching on Andrea, pulling her hair, and climbing all over her, she comes away clean too.
This adventure takes your through eight different bird sanctuaries in total, spanning a dozen bridges in the treetops, and even offers a few excellent sky views of dolphin-feeding or shows. This is a fantastic way to spend some time, have a close encounter with some beautiful birds, and grab some amazing photos of beautiful birds where you may never get a chance otherwise. Excellent, excellent adventure for the money!
Afterwards, we happen onto a setup where you put your feet into aquaria and the little fishes eat the dead skin off your feet! This runs $20/person for 15 minutes, but Andrea barters her down to $35 for the both of us (and we probably got a half hour out of it because people are hesitant and she’s not very busy). Truth: I would have passed on this but Andrea convinces me otherwise—and I’m so glad she does!
The proprietor starts by giving you a thorough foot wash so that you don’t contaminate her fishes. Admittedly, this is almost worth the admission alone. With clean feet, as soon as you put your tootsies into the tank, they’re onto you. They start nibbling right away and you get an immediate tingly sensation. If you have severe tickling issues, you might have problems, although Andrea says that she relaxed well enough after the initial plunge. I have no tickle-problems and immediately enjoy the fish-massage. I best describe it as teeny, tiny little jolts of electricity—like wee little stuns all over your feet. There is no pain involved at all, as all the passers-by give cringing looks despite my reassurances. I encourage every curious looker to try but no one falls to temptation while we’re here. I think she allows us way more time than promised because of my willingness to tell everyone to give it a go! If I could find this at home, I’d get a membership and be there every week! Even though the shop is called the Piranha Fish Spa, the bites are gentle as caresses.
A frozen beverage by the ocean waves always wraps up a visit nicely. Seagulls prowl curiously, hoping for a stray morsel to fall from any unsuspecting plate. Four pelicans perch on a nearby roof, each staring into the ever-changing waves. Turn by turn, each pelican takes its turn diving into the ocean and coming up with its fishy prize. I regret not bringing my telephoto lens and catching them as they catch their prey.
I would definitely revisit both the bird sanctuary and the fishy feet tank.
After dinner finds another evening of chilling to Bernard and his island-chill rendition of familiar songs. This is one of our favourite musicians on board. It’s one person with a guitar, playing a wide variety of music that ranges from island, to folk, to contemporary, to classics, to reggae, to Motown.
Tonight’s double-header shows first features a tribute to Italian music, composed of a number of famous tunes, including “Volare” and concluding with a nice rendition of Sarah Brightman / Andrea Bocelli’s “Time to Say Goodbye.”
The second show highlights the talents of the not-professionally-trained Cruise Crew. The opening piece features five Samoan on-board firefighters, performing a traditional dance number. The show has a scripted segment, which mirrors what we saw on The Seaside, a parody on Whitney Houston’s The Bodyguard. It’s Whitney again.
Personally, I much prefer the talent show aspect of the presentation, showcasing the talent of the crew, rather putting them into roles. In this regard, they should take a page out of Norwegian’s programme where staff—not just members of the cruise staff—come on and show their talents. The housekeepers, prep-cooks and other behind-the-scenes staff don’t have much of a chance to stand before the customers and a talent show would be a lovely opportunity for them to preview their talents.
Feb 8: seaday, travelling distance 643 nautical miles: high 29C / low 26C – cloudy – light mist
According to the programme, the winner of the MasterChef at Sea contest gets a chance to compete to participate in the actual MasterChef show. Being run in the theatre, I expect a considerable audience. Each person receives a quiz sheet as you sit. They run a contest and the people with the highest scores get to participate.
Full expecting (hoping) that the quiz would feature food questions, we’re caught with a few no-chancers like: what year did MasterChef debut on TV? The answer is 1990, in case you’re curious. There are food questions, but some relate to desserts, which is as familiar to me as ‘murican history.
When all the smoke clears, they start calling the highest scores. With three stations on stage, they call the top six scores, with people working in pairs. Team A consists of a form with 10/10 correct, and a form with 9/10 correct. Two people have 8/10 correct—someone named Millie and someone else whose name they can’t quite make out (or don’t want to read). They announce that it’s a person from Canada, and they continue to try to decipher the penship. After a few more seconds, they determine that it’s someone named…
It’s me.
During our contests and games, including the trivia and quiz games, we usually use the team name Squidley. Since we pair up with the Cupcakes for most of the games, we use the name Calamari Cupcake to cover the four of us. Being just me and Andrea, I wrote down Squidley. Andrea told me I better use my real name, so I added it afterwards; on the sheet, my name appears as Squidley Ray Yuen in the name field. I guess they really didn’t want to read out Squidley. Eventually, they call something Yuen and I hop onto stage and join Millie; meanwhile they deliver their tiebreaker for people who finished with 7/10.
We remove the covers and find that the secret ingredients are ham, sliced pork, sliced cheese, salad leaves, four slices of bread, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, salt and pepper. Leading up to the contest, my partner tells me that her husband owns a catering company, but she knows nothing about cooking. She told me to take charge and just tell her what to do.
Immediately I tell her, it’s just a ham and cheese sandwich. This has nothing to do taste—we just need to make it pretty. Based on our ingredients, the options are quite limited. My basic cooking instinct just can’t be turned off as I be sure to salt and pepper everything. I guess I still want to believe that someone’s going to taste it, even though the three criteria are: creativity, style and attractiveness.
Admittedly, the other entries look better than ours; they have more flair and impact. In the end, you can still pick ours up and eat it, whereas both of the opponents presented samiches that look more like abstract art. Of course, the judges do not even taste the completed assignments. The host takes a poll of the audience and both of the other teams have louder cheers, coming from what looks like more family/friends/travel companions. We have Cupcake, who has a big voice, but unfortunately, not as big as an audience. Even though we don’t win, this is an absolute blast. I am so happy I had the chance to participate.
I’m not going to tell you which is whom’s, and which won—judge for yourself!
Usually, prime rib comes with the final dinner of the cruise, but this time, it comes on the penultimate night. I love prime rib, and if you offer prime rib, I’m going to eat prime rib—for appetiser, main and dessert! Even Andrea has more than one serving of prime rib! For me, here’s appetiser…
And main…
And dessert…!
Some other highlights of our cruise dinner? Many of us went with the daily specials, rather than the standby standards. However, since sushi is only available on the extra-pay restaurant, and I want to keep my Omega3s up, I have to settle with dinner salmon, fortunately on the regular, everyday menu. Salmon is an odd animal for me. I love raw salmon—raw salmon is one of my favourite foods in the world, yet I despise salmon well-done. Raw, it tastes so velvety with a mild, oily taste. Cooked, it tastes dry and smelly. It took a couple of tries, but I managed to get them to cook my salmon blue rare, barely seared on the outside and perfectly raw in the middle. Thus, almost every meal, the salmon dinner either comes as my appetiser or dessert. Delicious and sooooo heathy!
As a general, the food on board MSC tastes fantastic. Most complaints come with the size of the portions—the ‘muricans want their 32-ounce steaks and these portions mirror European portions, adequate but not huge. For many of us, that’s perfect for a cruise. The average cruiser gains a pound a day on a cruise. Do we really need to do that? Between high calorie cocktails all day long and extras snacks everywhere you go, do you really need monstrous portions?
Here’s a fantastic beef short rib–you can clearly see the serving size—not huge. I’ve been on other ships where I got the entire bone. Do you need it? Do you want it? Maybe. But if you really want it, just order another serving. Let’s not contribute to waste where waste is unnecessary.
The evening’s next laugh comes from the Quest Game, which we thought was another scavenger hunt-like activity. The faster you bring the target item up to the host, the more points you get. In preparation, Cupcake runs back to the room and brings his backpack loaded with almost everything he can think of from the cabin, including towel, map, sewing kit, and the list goes on. While gone, the host already started the game and goes through a couple of trial runs. I quickly run up with our team badge and a menu, the first item required.
The game continues and we’re in contention. It starts off innocent enough, requiring things at our table, or within nearby reach. Then the laughs turn on when the requests become more challenging. One of the final challenges we could fulfill is a demand of only the men, who must wear women’s shoes to the stage. I quickly throw on Andrea’s shoes and run up, but they declared her shoes unacceptable as they’re runners and not dedicated women’s shoes. I quickly run back and throw on Mrs Cupcake’s shoes and earn us the points.
Shortly afterwards, the target is a bra, and you see women stripping down to fulfill the request. We don’t need to win that badly. Somehow, one person ended up naked on stage; I can only image what happened to bring her there. In the end, it is only the final round that counts, bringing the men up, wearing women’s clothing from head to foot. Seven participants remain and each dances to a tune while trying to elicit the two judges’ votes. Judge A is a man, and he got a LOT more attention than the woman judge, presumably since all the participants are in drag. Cupcake says that it’s not worth it for the bottle of sparkling wine that’s the prize, but I would have been happy to wear the stuff, provided we had it around. I would have failed miserably at the dancing segment. I would be happy to strut around the stage but we already discussed my dancing prospects.
Feb 9: Ocean Cay, MSC Marine Reserve: high 23C / low 22C – mostly cloudy
Here we are at Ocean Cay again; it’s hard to believe that we came here on our first cruise, travelled hundreds of knots since, and here we are again.
Apparently, the approach to Ocean Cay is quite narrow and the turning basin is also quite small. Whereas our first stop, we had perfect weather and no issues docking, this time, for the past few hours already, the ship has been warning us that this destination might not be in the works if conditions remain too challenging. This morning’s 35 knot wind caused some problems and according to the announcement, the bridge crew worked very hard to moor us here. With winds projected to escalate throughout the day, departure time moves to 1700h, rather than 2300h, meaning we lose out on the lighthouse show and the departure party.
They cancel most of the onshore excursions, including our paddle-boarding adventure. I feel somewhat relieved. I have the worst balance of everyone I know and if walking presents issues, I’d spend the entire time falling into the drink with big winds. We go for a couple of dips instead and almost cut up our feet from the shoreline rocks.
Note: if coming back here in future, water shoes are highly recommended. Especially since the nibbling fishes did away with some of my protective skin, I doubted several times whether I’d be able to step back ashore. I will never get over how clear, beautiful and warm the Caribbean waters feel. That almost makes it worse since I can clearly see the sharp stones I approach. Water’s too shallow to swim through so you have no other options.
Emerging from the ocean, I stroll over to the Lighthouse Bar, one of the nicest bars on the island. This is the only bar with comfy couches, beautiful vistas of the ocean, the island shore, and the ship. Sitting on a peninsula, it’s quite isolated and out of the way of noise, families and especially children, since it’s a only a bar. I could easily hang out here all day with a stream of beverages brought to me. Then a commissioned officer brings the bartender a coconut and says something. Before long, they shuck the coconut and add a flurry of ingredients to it. The officers taste it and give the glowing sign of approval. Being the only person at the bar, I ask if I can get in on it too.
YUM! I have no idea what’s in it—and I don’t care! DEEEELICIOUS!
I enjoy a late lunch at the outdoor buffet, serving everything that the ships buffet serves. Today’s highlight, jerk chicken, is one of the best meals I’ve had on this cruise. For future reference, do not come when they’re about to close. You only get the dregs and they’re not about to replenish any of the trays that run dry. Only three pieces of jerk chicken remain and I’m happy to scoop them up. White wine’s gone and after my pour, so is the rose. A half bottle of red remains for the person behind me.
I love jerk and very few people make jerk well. You need to start with a fresh, robust jerk rub, preferably marinated overnight. Many people do that right. Cooking it though, loses most people. Almost everyone I know bakes or braises it. True jerk needs to be smoked at no more than 225F and only cooked to an internal temperature of 165F. This tastes a tad overdone but the flavour’s all there.
Early departure means early off the island. It’s a very sad part of cruising when you’re in for the final evening of your journey. Instead of partying it up on your final day, you settle in early so you can pack and be ready to leave the ship the next morning. We have an early flight tomorrow, so we take the express departure, walking our own luggage off ship, rather than waiting for pickup at the terminal.
Feb 10: Return home – cold and shitty –18C at landing – wind: 35 km/h
Early breakfast at the buffet and we’re off. I hoped for breakfast pizza for the final onboard meal but today’s the only day where breakfast offers no pizza 
. More eggs on my journey of eggs—I estimate that I ate over 100 eggs on this vacation. I love eggs.
I never thought I would need a portable scale, but it sure comes in handy today. We need to manoeuvre between the ounces, one-shirt-at-a-time to balance out both suitcases to weigh exactly 50 pounds each, and still walk away carrying 20 pounds on our backs (despite ditching some lotions). Considering our bags weighed 30-some pounds each when we left Winnipeg, we sure managed to accumulate a lot of mass—of course, that does not count the pound-a-day I may have gained on the cruise. I don’t know; I haven’t used a scale on my own for decades and I don’t care. What remains salient is that we’re exploring a 119-day around-the-world cruise. I hope that means we don’t put on 120 pounds each.
Using the washroom–I guess it’s restroom in ‘murica. I find it amazing they think they’re so polite in disguising things with cutesy words like “restroom.” No one rests in there; they shit, or they piss. We normally call it “washroom” or sometimes “bathroom.” People can wash and in your facilities at home; they can bathe but that’s unlikely away from hom. Often, the most correct term is the European word “toilet.” You’re shitting or you’re pissing—you’re using the toilet. Restroom: pah. ‘muricans are so “polite” about their mannerisms but they won’t hesitate to shoot you if you don’t bow to their god.
Regardless, while “resting” in the restroom, someone obviously needs “to rest” desperately. All of the sit-down stalls are taken so someone walks up, paces anxiously, and starts to sing,
¯ Ooh boy, I really got to go,
But all the stalls; they are full.
Hope someone hurries
Cause I got worries
That I’m gonna shit my pants. ¯
I love this! I’m going to try that the next time all the stalls are full (even if I don’t need to go!). We’ve all had to go at one time or another (and some more than others, right Paul?)—why suffer in silence? I’m sure everyone in the stalls understood and made every effort to help the poor guy out as quickly as they could.
Nothing like a little bit of bit of Whitney Houston in the airport while we pick up our coats. It’s a shitty way to end a vacation journal, but hey, coming home to Winnipeg is shitty, so it’s appropriate. I wish you all happy holidays on your journeys. Until the next time…
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