manmachine

Ours on Silhouette had two large bottles of water (Evian and Pelligrino) cheese and fruit platters, and a bottle of domestic sparkling— but a pretty good one, Chandon Brut. Great day!

Gratuities are ALWAYS optional. Service charges are not.

We have never been charged for a shuttle in the past but on our current cruise we have ports we’ve never been before. Shuttle to Oslo: free Shuttle to Copenhagen: $15.00 per person Shuttles to Stockholm and Tallinn also had a charge. Even Skagen. had just never seen this before and it seemed cheap to me. These were not shore excursion shuttles, just to get to town.

It really was nice. And that park makes it even better. The branches from the park’s oak trees from across the street came almost to our window.

By passenger count yes indeed. PC edged out Miami by about 50,000 passengers. Of course, when you add Miami and Port Everglades— both part of the same metro area and only about half an hour apart— they far exceed Orlando. So South Florida, and the Miami DMA, or ‘Designated Market Area’ would still be by far the ‘Cruise Capital of the World.’ I actually live in Hollywood, midway between Miami and Fort Lauderdale. We say Miami outside of Florida because most people don’t know where anything is down here other than Miami, Key West, and sometimes Fort Lauderdale. Rank Port 2022 / 2023 Country 1 Port Canaveral 4,072,396 United States 2 Port of Miami 4,022,544 United States 3 Port Everglades 3,826,415 United States

Home2 Hotel Southampton Trip Advisor has this hotel rated as #1 in Southampton. I can’t argue with that, as the accommodations were solid, the employees almost without fail friendly, helpful, and fun, and the location was just terrific. Very close to the cruise port, and the Queen’s Park was right outside of our window. We were able to vicariously enjoy some dog walking there, as we had to leave our Eskie at home in the care of a friend. We had one night on our own as a couple, and then the next evening both of our boys were joining us after terrorizing much of the Emerald Isle and Paris as well. #2 son finished up his internship in Dublin the same Friday that we left America for the trip, and we had sent #1 son over early (he graduated with his MBA just in May, so sort-of a graduation gift) to spend 10 days or so with his brother. If you own stock in Guinness or McCallan, now you know the reason for the recent bump in stock price. We’d found a direct flight from Dublin to Southampton for them, and one reason we booked the Room2 is their MLoft, which has a nice king bed and a queen bed in an upstairs loft. Dishes and refrigerator, tea kettle (of course) and their own intimate 24/7 combination bar and check-in. Plenty of space for one night for four. Lots of shopping and restaurants close by. And laundry, too, which we utilized. You should be aware that this hotel tries to maintain a carbon neutral footprint. That’s admirable, but realize it means you likely won’t find tissues or paper towels in the room. Thankfully we were more than adequately stocked with a quality 2-ply, so good in fact we were able to use it not only for its primary intended purpose, but to drain the glasses we washed by hand as well. Carbon neutral also means that each time you take the elevator you will see a sign suggesting you take your behind to the stairs instead. Everyone can do their part, so I compromised and took the stairs for downstairs trips. Most of the time. Well, some of the time. Okay, so I took the sign and hid it where they’ll never find it. Truthfully? I only thought about doing just that. I know I am a fat a** but no need to be reminded every ingress and egress. One thing in Southampton: they don’t know how to make a classic martini (almost) anywhere. Including at a martini bar. Apparently this place insisted you have your drink only according to their recipes. The next place was an Ottoman restaurant. Food was great. Martini was not. The most bizarre thing was that both attempts came with brightly colored, striped paper straws. The second most bizarre thing was the first bartender insisting on adding a dash of Sprite at the end. Not optimal! Good gin, good vermouth, shake or stir, make sure it’s cold and Bob’s your uncle. But a great visit in a terrific town. I was even able to buy a pair of Clark’s walking shoes after realizing the tread on my Kizik’s was as bald as Jeff Bezos’ head. Those shoes took us to St. Michael’s church, where we met a couple of very nice folks who are part of the community outreach program there. We got to learn a lot about the new part of the church— from the 1200’s— and the original old part as well, from 1070. That’s old, alright, especially to someone from Miami. Recommendation: We loved the Wellington Pub. New owners and they do know how to make a martini there, plus since we were there on Sunday, they completely changed our mind about what we were having for dinner once we saw their Sunday Roast. Pick beef, chicken, or pork, but don’t miss it! But enough about non cruise-centric matters. As I write this I am in the Passport Bar On Deck 3, having a libation before dinner at Blu tonight. I’ve just purchased shuttle tickets for our journey into Stockholm tomorrow (No need to shuttle in Oslo, and Copenhagen was free, go figure) so already a couple of stops into this 12 day cruise. To come will be more about boarding, our cabins, service overall, casino, sea day entertainment, food overall and specifically in Blu, and more tidbits about cruise and ports, ports and cruise, next time. -to be continued-

Just for what it’s worth: am currently on the Silhouette where baling is not allowed, theoretically anywhere, and have seen vaping both on desk and while seated in passageways. Some weren’t even trying to be surreptitious about it.

Southern and South Western Rail… they are NOT the same, not even close… I could not believe my eyes when we arrived at Clapham Junction. There were… actual people… actual people who were employees… actual employees wearing gray/lavender vests that somehow managed to look… snappy. Shockingly, one of them approached us as we left the train to see how our journey was. I showed her our ticket, and she told us all would be fine. South Western would get us to Southampton, from Platform two. No worries it wasn’t their ticket, she assured us. Now remember, I had paid not one dime to South Western, only to Southern. Southern are the folks still selling the routes for which they could not fulfill, a pact accepted yet made to be left unfulfilled, much like an American politician’s campaign promises. We were walking towards the lift to go up, then over to Platform 2 when yet another employee asked if we needed any help. I really mean it when I say I believe that if I’d mentioned I could use a nice ‘cuppa, I’d have soon have had some Earl Grey, unless I wished to further specify a builder’s tea with PG Tips and whole milk. And they would undoubtedly have forgiven me for not being British and saying ‘cuppa.’ Very nice people, the South Western employees. We were soon at our platform, and after two trains had come and gone were boarding our passage to Southampton. Seats? Oh, yes, and comfortable ones too. Clean? As clean as the tip line on the week’s end cruise statement from a Carnival Cruiser after being in line at guest services and claiming they want to ‘tip in cash.’ That is to say: Really clean. So we got to sit and enjoy the scenery, and it was finally, ultimately quite a nice trip to Southampton. Our tickets never did get scanned. Do I smell refund request from Southern Rail? ROOM2 HOTEL, Southampton Our taxi driver was super nice, and after the quick ride from Southampton Central to our hotel, Room2 at the Queen’s Park, he presented me with the card reader to pay our fare. It was then that something shocking occurred. You see, when my card was scanned, there was no ‘turnaround’ where I was asked exactly what amount I wished to tip while being observed entering said amount. Now I have traveled, and have seen and am aware that things are different in most countries from the States. Wages are paid at a fair amount, and I have read/heard/seen that tipping is not only not expected but sometimes viewed as actually offensive. But it had been about five years since I had been to Europe and I figured that surely we tip-crazy Americans had trained the rest of the world by now. After all, it’s a pretty good incentive for the locals to learn once the Americans start throwing percentages around willy-nilly . Ask, get money. And once the spigot starts flowing the employers like it too as they get to pay less and pass a portion of the wage expectations to the Tipping Brigade. Tipping is absolutely ubiquitous in America, and a hot topic besides. While it is expected and almost always well-deserved in a full-service restaurant, and indeed I tip well there, it is also a fact that I do feel the tipping is perhaps a little less deserved at the coffee counter, drive-thru, 7-11, or ATM. Yet at all of these— well, perhaps not the ATM yet, but soon— the ‘turnaround’ will surely happen when you pay with a card. Buy a muffin? Tap your card, then the turnaround, then enter your tip. Buy a water at the airport counter? Just had the turnaround happen at JFK. The turnaround means making a choice. 18% suggested minimum gratuity.. 25% is better. And best yet, 30%. Or, choose to cause a delay in the line with the dreaded ‘custom’ tip amount. Or, ‘shudder’ no tip. Ouch. There are memes out there about things that are judgmental— Judgmental Dog. Judgmental Lamp. Judgmental Kid. Lots of them. And it always feels like during that ‘tipping option turnaround’ that I am on the receiving end of one of those memes. Is it small of me to also say that somehow tipping 25% on that $2.99 muffin doesn’t seem to elicit any gratitude, nor, very often, even a thanks. ‘Murica. But not here. Not in Southampton. Not with this taxi driver. Here, instead, our driver processed the amount, asked me to verify, and handed me a receipt. And, as I was digging for a cash gratuity, sure in my head our driver had made a mistake, he was already off and on his way. ’Twas then I knew. We were not in Kansas, nor indeed anywhere in the States. Not anymore. To be continued…

Part II: To Clapham Junction So ourselves and our train were pulling up at the same time, so we, and our bags, minded the gap and were soon en route— standing room only— to what was never supposed to be our destination, Clapham Junction. While underway, I checked the train maps trying to get a sense of things, and instead as I looked over the stations and towns listed, found myself pondering the ‘veddy’ British names of things. Clapham Junction. What else is at the junction? How was the town named? Were people singularly enthusiastic about the production of cured pork products there, to the point of an audible two-handed demonstration of their enthusiasm? Do some people nickname it ‘Clap-back’ Junction?’ Or ‘Slap-ham’ Junction? Woking. Are they ‘woke’ in Woking, or merely off to an early start? Is there a chain of Asian-themed restaurants headquartered there proclaiming themselves the Kings of Wok? What grammatical form is ‘Woking,’ anyway? If it is a full Infinitive, where is the verb that should follow? If a simple infinitive, why no ‘to’ preceding it? Do liberal minded people from Portland and graduates of Mount Holyoke dream of visiting this town that declares its social and societal orientation in its very name? Does Ron Desantis hate this town? Would this town die if it visited Florida? Can you Slough towards Maidenhead? Would the band name have been better if it were Iron Maidenhead? Is this city a center of stylish hats intended for younger females? Why do my English relatives get confused when I call ‘Surrey’ ‘Surly,’ and irritated when I call ‘Willy Wonka’ ‘Willy Wanker?’ Do you know if you speak with a British accent that ‘Wonka’ and ‘Wanker’ basically rhyme? (WON-kuh. WAN-kuh). In any case, we were soon past Croydon where no one got off but several boarded and, continuing our journey in our continued vertical positions were eventually forced coming up on Clapham Junction. We exited the train, and had our first encounter soon after with a South Western Rail employee. How can I outline the differences between Southern Rail, from which we arrived, and South Western Rail, into whose hands we now committed our travel intentions. Differences? Yes, there are many. Let’s get into those now…. (to be continued)

Beautiful if cool weather today. Can’t believe how many are in the outdoor pools!

We are rolling around a bit as well.

Celebrity Silhouette ‘Best of Scandinavia’ Living so close to Miami, the ‘Cruise Capital of the World,’ we have been all over the Caribbean. Secret favorite: Grand Bahama Island, perennially under-rated by those who have only visited the port area of Freeport and think they know everything there is to know about this hundred mile-long island. Keep up those ‘thumbs-down’ ratings— more room for us! We have also done west coast cruises out of Long Beach to Mexico, and Seattle to Alaska as well. 35+ cruises all in all. But until now we have never flown to London, trained to Southampton, and, after two great days there, embarked on a 12 night cruise to Scandinavian capitols, to Skagen Denmark, and to Tallinn, Estonia, too. But that’s where I am right now, along with the rest of my family, aboard the Celebrity Silhouette. Currently we are under way on our first sea day, rolling around a little bit on the North Sea and making our way to our first stop, Oslo. I will share a little about the trip as we go, and probably finish up after our return. Flight We had ideal flight times: leaving FLL shortly after 8pm on Friday, flying direct to London, arriving early in the morning. It tricks your body into thinking you have had a full night of rest. But Delta had other plans. They canceled our flight, and booked us on the ‘closest’ thing: leave FLL at 3:30PM, fly to New York Kennedy, have a five hour layover, then leave at 11:30PM, arrive in London at noon the next day. Not really close, right? At least this happened a couple of months ahead of time so we had warning. Ultimately, the Delta crew were on their game and despite an hour’s delay leaving FLL, we had an uneventful flight for leg one. I say uneventful except for one recurring intrusion, of an olfactory nature, which made me wish I had stockpiled a couple of Covid-era masks— the good ones. From the whispered conversations and reaction from a family sitting one row ahead of us, we were eventually able to trace the bountifully pungent source: a young lady of about 6 years of age, hereafter nicknamed Li’l Toot. Li’l Toot, or Tootsie if you prefer, remained otherwise occupied with her iPad in between repeated inquiries from her parents if she ‘felt alright.’ She may have felt fine but I feel certain those around her would recommend for her a leafier diet. Our seats had been upgraded to Comfort+ but I would have traded them for two middles as long as those middles were located out of firing range. We did eventually arrive intact in New York, though plagued then, as now, with the knowledge that all smells are particulate. We had planned to spend the layover in the Centurion Lounge at Kennedy but it was a real disappointment. Very crowded, one single bartender, food looked wilted, and I have seen cleaner restrooms at the Stuckey’s in Tifton, Georgia. We changed plans and visited one of the restaurants along the terminal. Met a nice couple on their way to Iceland so traded some travel and music stories. They were both Jonathan Richman fans from way back so for me a happy bonus. There are far too few of us. Delta crew were GREAT on the leg to Gatwick. Some of the best service ever, the late evening meal wasn’t bad, and no one acted out on the plane— not even a peep, er, toot. So we actually got a little sleep before arriving at Gatwick just before noon on Saturday. Collected our baggage and headed for the shuttle to go to the train station inside the airport. Now this was about to turn into a little more of an adventure than we had anticipated. I had received notice that train strikes might affect various routes. And had received an email that the last ride of the day from Gatwick to Southampton was canceled. But we were planning on the 1:20 and it was listed as good all the way through Friday evening. I even double-checked our route on Southern Rail by seeing tickets were still being sold. They were. And if the 1:20 did indeed get canceled, there was the 2:20, 3:20, 4:20, etc. until 6:20 was the last scheduled for the day. However, it not to be. Our Southern Rail route was marked, ‘Enquire’ which is all in all a very English way of putting it. So we made our inquiry, and were informed that all trains for our destination were canceled. The agent told us to take the 1:10 to Clapham Junction, then take the train from there so Southampton. We had about six minutes to spare. We walked quickly to the gate, and the agent there, when he scanned our tickets, told us our route had been canceled. We let him know we knew this, having inquired (enquired?) and related to him the Clapham Junction info. He shook his head, sadly. “Clapham Junction to Southampton is operated by a different company. They may not honor this ticket. I am fine to put you through, but wanted you to know…” I showed the agent on my phone that the tickets for the very route in question were still being sold. His expression became, if anything, sadder still. “Oh, yes,” he said. “They keep selling the tickets no matter what. Shall we try Clapham?” ’We’ decided not to point out to the agent that once we left him behind his involvement would end while we would be subject to the ramifications of our decision here. Ultimately, ‘we’ decided we’d be no worse off, so through the gate we went with a minute or two to spare. I wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad sign that the agent didn’t bother to scan our tickets… (To be continued)

$12.00 now

Your pampering comes at a cost. Less pampering.

Yes, that stinks.

Sometimes you just have to wade in, no matter what. I was at the World Class Bar enjoying a quiet drink and talking with the terrific bartender, when I heard the awful, tinny, horrible sound of bad music playing on a cell phone. The owner of the phone— let’s call him Beevis— walked up, talking loudly with his buddy Butthead— and together they were taking up a lot more space than their purely physical selves. Now I love music. And I can tolerate at least almost anyone and smile while doing it. But anyone who does what these guys were doing to music— well, I hate ‘em. But, since I am a peace loving person, I took my drink and myself out and over to the Casino bar. Left B&B to themselves. The bartender happened to have the same McCallan I was drinking so all was good with drink #2… until… wait… ah, crap… yes, you know what happened. Beevis and Butthead entered the space, still sporting their own soundtrack of tinned beats. I stayed quiet a bit… but I could feel the blood pressure rising. Finally, I asked the bartender— really more stated to the bartender: “You know, I am guessing playing music like that is against the rules. But I also guess that if you said something to them they could wind up causing problems for you. And even if I were to bring someone on the management team over, that might be a problem because the manager might think you told me to bring them over to deal with it and get aggravacted.” The bartender was a little wide-eyed, but also smiled just a bit, too, and said, “a delicate situation, yes…” I said, “But not for me. Not anymore…” I walked over to where the phone was tinnily bleating away its nasty little canned beats, leaned over and just stared at it. It wasn’t long until Beevis saw me. ”What’s your problem, bro?” ”No problem,” I said. “I am just wondering who the *ss*ole is playing their phone like this.” Beevis said, “That’s MY phone!” ”Ahhh!” I said. “So now we both know who the *ss*ole is,” and just stared at him. I admit it. I was pissed. But acting very polite. Part of me was almost hoping he would hit me. Instead, after a few seconds of staring, he turned the sound off. ”Hey, thanks!” I said and walked back to my seat. ”You’re MacCallan, Mr. Scott,” said the bartender. I noticed it was a double. Nice. The purveyor of tinny beats left shortly thereafter, never to be heard from again. A couple of folks around me thanked me. And the next time I turned back to the bar I had another double MacAllan. Wheee! I was about four drinks past where I intended to be. But all good. It wound up being a peaceful time before dinner after all. Oh, one more thing. I finally finished the second double (sixth drink) and as I was leaving the bartender called out, “Oh, Mr. Scott! Don’t forget your MacCallan!” Huh? Sure enough, there on the bar was yet another double MacCallan. I remember this story very well. What I had for dinner? Not so much.

Geez, that was a lot of exhaling.

Yeah, not so much, really.

And that after pre-paying 18% gratuity. ‘Mericun.

People are always saying a mansion is more expensive than a townhouse. My grandfather only paid $420,000 for his mansion in Louisville in 1927. Our townhouse in Miami is $480,000 now.

“We were not told ahead of time that there would be fish in the water.”

Murano for sure. Sounds like we might be with you the same week. Best of Scandinavia.

100%. Cruise Critic Search sure ain’t Google.