Diamond Princess: Singapore to Sydney: Please, Mr. Custer I Don’t Want to Go!

Much like the trooper who wasn’t looking forward to the ride to the Little Bighorn, I was not looking forward to the plane ride to and from this cruise – with a combined total of over 40 hours in the back of a plane. My feelings about flying are that if the good Lord had intended me to fly to Asia He would have given me enough money to sit way up in the front part of the plane – where the cold champagne and warm (be kind) nuts are kept! But SailorJill had her heart set on visiting Australia again, so I am prepared to fold my 6’2” frame into a seat that was apparently originally designed for the Kiddie Go-Cart Company and become reacquainted with the wrinkles in my knees. Not only that, but our itinerary has us changing planes more times than Elizabeth Taylor changed husbands; and one of our stops is the Narita airport in Tokyo. I am somewhat leery of this stop as I do not own a fully contained radiation suit – which is just as well as I doubt the plane’s restrooms provide enough room in which to change. As a result, I am considering falling back on my Plan B – which involves the use of strategically placed layers of Aluminum foil.

 

Speaking of Narita, while we were there we visited some of the shops in the concourse and were astounded at some of the bargains to be had. For example, glow sticks were steeply discounted as were many other items that glowed in the dark – whether they were originally intended to or not.

 

Pre-Cruise Day - Singapore

 

Breakfast with the Orangutans

 

For the first of our two days in Singapore we have signed up for a tour of the Singapore Zoo - a modern marvel that shelters its occupants in as natural a habitat as possible. It is also home to the largest domesticated colony of Orangutans in the world. As part of their community outreach program, the zoo sponsors a breakfast where visitors can learn more about the Orangutans while sharing a meal with them.

 

This, however, was a good idea gone terribly wrong! Breakfast consisted of dining with a bunch of uncouth, unkempt, and as unruly a bunch of big apes as you could possibly imagine. Not only would they would hop up on the table, shovel assorted pieces of fruit into their faces, eat with their hands, and do gross things with their food, but they took great delight in seeing who could make the loudest and longest burps. This unappetizing display...No, Wait! That was actually my Fraternity Reunion Dinner earlier this year in Monkey Run, Arkansas (sorry for the confusion). Breakfast with the Orangutans in Singapore was actually pretty cool!

 

After breakfast I was invited to sit down and pose with one of the Orangutans for a souvenir photo. Walking over to the Orangutan I noticed SailorJill speaking with the photographer and handing him a few dollars – which I assumed was a tip. I was unable to hear what she was saying, but from the smile on the photographer’s face he obviously found it amusing. Sitting down next to the Orangutan I took off my hat to smooth my hair, but the photographer suggested that I keep the hat on “so when you get home and display the pictures you will know which one is the Orangutan.”(I guess I knew at that point what SailorJill had said.) As the other guests shared in SailorJill’s joke, I remember thinking “Please Lord, don’t let me itch anywhere, because there is no way on God’s green earth that I can afford to scratch myself right now.”

 

After all the photos were taken, our guide informed us that our next stop was to see the Articulated Python – the largest snake in the world – and, having ridden in many articulated buses, I surmised that it also had to be one of the most unusual specimens in the zoo. While the snake was, indeed, very impressive, I hurried over to the guide to report an obvious error:

 

SailorJack: “There is something wrong here – that snake is not articulated!”

Guide: “What are you talking about?”

SJ: “Look – it doesn’t bend in the middle!”

Guide: (with a look of amazement) “I said it was a RETICULATED snake, not ARTICULATED.”

SJ: “Oh.” At this point I decided not to bring up my observation about the Slotted Leopard.

 

After our sojourn to the Zoo it was time for lunch and refreshments so we headed to the Raffles Hotel – immortalized by Rudyard Kipling in his 1899 book “From Sea to Sea” where he opined that one “should feed at Raffles and sleep at Hotel de L’Europe.” As fate would have it, we selected (from the 15 restaurants and bars in the hotel) to eat at the Long Bar – where we learned an important historical fact. It was in this very bar in the very early 1900's that Ngiam Tong Boon invented the Singapore Sling. Now, contrary to what you may be thinking, the Singapore Sling was not developed as a first aid appliance applied to patrons who fell off their bar stool, but is, in fact, a delicious concoction of Gin, Cherry Brandy, Contreau, Benedictine, and Pineapple Juice.

 

Note to Readers: I was forced to imbibe several of these concoctions in order to correctly identify the ingredients so as to accurately report upon them. (As I am sure you understand, being a serious journalist occasionally requires some level of personal sacrifice.)

 

After lunch, as we headed to the world famous shopping destination of Orchard Street, I couldn’t help but marvel at how history can sneak up on you when you least expect it. I can now add the Long Bar at the Raffles Hotel to my list of important historical sites that we have visited– such as the Budweiser brewery in St. Louis and the Bacardi distillery in San Juan.

 

For dinner tonight we went to the Equinox restaurant – one of Singapore’s toniest upscale and chi-chi restaurants. Located on the 70th floor of the Swissôtel, the restaurant is said to feature French and exotic Asian fusion cuisine and breathtaking views of the Singapore skyline.

 

The restaurant turned out to be all it was advertised to be. Not only was the décor elegant and the views of the Singapore skyline awe inspiring, but we could actually see some isles of both Malaysia and Indonesia. Almost as imposing as the breath-taking view, the opposing wall was a luminous composition made entirely of mother of pearl. Adding to the ambiance was a string quartet providing discreet, romantic dinner music. Our waiter, Rahmat, was an extremely impressive gentleman from Indonesia who was dressed in an immaculate tuxedo, wore shoes with a mirror-like shine, had a crisp white towel draped over his forearm, and sported a broad, welcoming smile that lit up the whole room.

 

Rahmat: “Good evening and welcome to the Equinox. Would you care to start off with a wine selection from our extensive collection of vintage French wines? With your permission, allow me to suggest a ’97 Chateau de Montrachet. It’s a big, bold burgundy with hints of black currents and undertones of licorice and dark chocolate. It has a fragrant nose, soft tannins, and, I might add, a robust finish that is a pure delight.”

 

SailorJack: “No thanks, I’ll have a Bud Light please.”

Rahmat: (sputtering) a…a Bud Light!”

SailorJack: ‘In a can, please.”

Rahmat: “I’ll see if we have one, sir. Now, for your starter may I recommend our chef’s special which features lightly braised escargots in a delicate lime and garlic sauce?”

SailorJack: “I haven’t eaten escargot since my accident.”

Rahmat: “Oh, I’m sorry sir. If I may be so indelicate as to ask, what accident?”

SailorJack: “The time I accidently ate an escargot.”

Rahmat: (the smile somewhat cooler now) “Then may I suggest our Salad de Maison. It is our award winning Compote de Mer - a delightful ceviche featuring marinated tips of cold water octopus and…”

SailorJack: “No thanks, I haven’t eaten octopus since my other accident.”

 

Turning to SailorJill to take her order, Rahmat brightened considerably when she ordered both the Escargot and the Compote de Mer. Concerned now that Rahmat may think me less a gourmand than SailorJill - and wanting to reestablish my reputation as an accomplished international gastronome - I turned to him:

 

SailorJack: “On second thought, instead of a Bud Light, I’ll have an IMPORTED beer – a Tiger.”

SailorJill: “Jack, this is Singapore – Bud Light IS the imported beer here – Tiger is the domestic.”

SailorJack: (this was getting complicated) “OK, I’ll have the imported Bud Light.”

Rahmat: “An imported Bud Light. Of course, sir. Would you care to have a Hamburger with your beer? Perhaps a Taco?”

 

The thought crossed my mind that he might be being somewhat facetious as I had not seen either one of those entrees on the menu, so I ordered Vichyssoise soup and something called Boeuf Tartare avec Oeuf for an entree. I had no idea what they were, but by this time I was getting desperate and simply wanted to enjoy a cold drink and a hot dinner. With a somewhat dubious glance over his shoulder, our waiter turned to SailorJill, took her order and left (to get my beer I hoped).

 

Turning to SailorJill I found her staring at her plate and slowly shaking her head.

 

SailorJack: “What!”

SailorJill: “A Bud Light?!”

 

Day 2 – At Sea

 

Day 2 finds us steaming through the South China Sea towards the Gulf of Thailand (now how exotic does that sound!). The weather is perfect – with the temperature in the upper 80’s - so we grabbed a couple of lounges around the pool and spent the early morning hours enjoying our day at sea. However, as our Meet and Greet was scheduled to start at 11:00 A.M., we retired to our stateroom to shower and dress. I put on my khaki shorts, Princess Polo shirt and Sperry Topsider shoes. SailorJill is wearing a very short pink baby doll dress, pink high heel powder puff stiletto slippers, pink ribbons for her pigtails and little teddy bear earrings – wait, that’s my new screen saver (sorry). SailorJill is actually wearing crisp white linen shorts, sandals, and her “Men are Idiots and My Husband is Their Leader” T-shirt – a gift from her mother on the occasion of our sixth wedding anniversary.

 

Joining the Meet and Greet we quickly realized that one of the challenges facing us on this cruise was the presence of an extremely large contingent of people from the Wonder Down Under. Despite whatever preconceptions you might have gathered about the Australian people from watching reruns of Quigley Down Under, they are actually a delightful, down to earth people who speak a dialect very closely related to English. In fact, many of their words are spelled just like some of our words, but have an entirely different meaning – which makes conversation with them quite confusing. For example, take the following simple sentence in Australian:

 

“After the Footie I’m taking my Barbie and Billie with me to the Outback and then I’m going to Wagga Wagga and maybe even Mugga Mugga with them –after which I will look forward to snaveling a few Butchers.” WHAT!

 

To understand what was just said, one needs to know the following Australian words:

 

Footie: Not the bottom part of a baby’s pajama. It’s a football game!

Barbie – this is not, as we have come to know, Ken’s girlfriend, but is an outdoor cooking grill.

Outback – this is not a restaurant! When an Australian says “I am going to the Outback” he is not going to dinner, but to a remote and somewhat deserted part of the country – much as we in the U.S. mean when we say we are going to Alabama.

Wagga Wagga – while we may think this is what a dog does with his tail, it is actually a town in Australia and should not be confused with the town of (and I swear I am not making this up):

Mugga Mugga – which, obviously, should be at the other end of the dog, but is, in fact, another town!

Billy – not a goat, not even someone’s name…it’s a teapot!

Butcher – no it isn’t! It’s a small glass of beer!

Snaveling – gobble up (or, I guess, this being Australia – gobble down).

 

Now imagine trying to have a conversation that incorporates scores of sentences like the one above and you can begin to understand the dilemma we faced at our roll call. We could understand every word they said (OK, maybe not “fair dinkum”) but we could not UNDERSTAND what they were saying. So we went and talked to some Kiwis – they are...oh, never mind – it’s complicated.

 

However, we had no better luck with them than we did with the Australians:

 

SailorJack: How’s it going?

Kiwi: It’s a box of birds. I have a new bach where I can slap on the jandals and crack open the chilly bin for a stubbie.

SailorJack: Are you sure you aren’t Australian?

Kiwi: Get off the grass! Say, you gonna shout a round?

 

SailorJill and I went through our best “oh my goodness, look at the time” routine and excused ourselves – hoping to find somebody that spoke the King’s English, but determined to eventually master this exciting new language.

 

Day 3 – Ko Samui (Thailand)

 

Ko Samui may be the sexiest island of which you have never heard. It is the third largest island in Thailand and home to around 40,000 people, most of whom are involved in serving the tourist industry – ahem, in one way or another.

 

I knew that we were going to enjoy Ko Samui as soon as we stepped off the ship when a very attractive raven-haired young lady handed me a brochure inviting me to visit the Palace of Seven Pleasures – where we could experience, among other things, a “Tandem Tender Love Chocolate Kiss Package.” But, before I could read about the details of the “Package”, SailorJill took the brochure and returned it to the nice young lady who had handed it to me – thereby saving me the trouble of having to consider whether or not to visit this particular tourist attraction.

 

Instead of the Palace, we opted for a tour of the island. Our first stop was at the very famous Grandfather and Grandmother rocks. There are several legends surrounding these erotic rocks, but in the end it is their physical appearance – especially the Grandfather rock – that has made them such an attraction. However, a complete sense of inadequacy prevents me from describing the Grandfather rock and modesty forbades me from mentioning the Grandmother rock in any further detail. Needless to say, they are a major tourist attraction and the subject of uniquely posed photographs. As we boarded the van to continue the tour, one of our traveling companions passed around a bag of nuts she had purchased at one of the stalls. Her only comment was, “considering what we have just seen, I figured it was an appropriate snack.”

 

Our second stop was to visit a temple that was home to a glass encased Mummified Monk. Our guide assured us that the figure inside the enclosure was truly the preserved remains of the Monk who had erected the temple. If so, it is the best preserved Mummy I have seen since the Munsters went off the air.

 

After visiting waterfalls and other scenic sites around the island, our final stop was to see the Big Bubba. I have to admit, I was looking forward to seeing this attraction as I was intrigued as to how a good old Alabama boy could be so honored in Ko Samui. As we got off the van and headed down a market lined path I inquired of our guide as to what he had done to deserve such fame and was understandably somewhat abashed when, with a look of tired resignation, she explained we were here to see the Big Buddha, not a Big Bubba. As it turns out the Big Buddha is the most famous landmark on the island and is located in the Phra Yai temple. This beautiful golden statue of a sitting Buddha rises up over 40 feet and is one of the most impressive features on the island.

 

After the tour we felt a need for refreshment and, after walking a few blocks, I knew I had found my kind of place when I spotted a large sign advertising the “Thai One On” sports bar. The inside of the bar was dark and cool – a welcome respite from the heat outside - and the specialty of the house was…hold on…you know it’s coming…it’s here…the Mai Thai!

 

Day 4 – Laem Chabang (Bangkok, Thailand)

 

As we had once spent a week visiting Bangkok, we have signed up for a country-side tour that featured a visit to an elephant show that included not only a show, but a half hour elephant ride – something SailorJill has always wanted to do.

 

The show was absolutely fascinating and after a very entertaining production that featured elephants playing soccer, painting pictures, and doing various other tricks, the announcer asked for 6 volunteers to take part in a demonstration of “an amazing display of elephant agility.” I have no idea how I came to volunteer – I think it had something to do with the heat and several bottles of Singha beer – but when I eventually came to my senses, I found myself in the middle of the arena lying on a blanket along with five other people – with all of us spaced about twelve feet apart. It was then that the announcer stated that the elephants would walk over the six people lying in the middle of the arena. After most of the shock wore off I remember my first cogent thought being that there may be something to SailorJill’s “I Married an Idiot” T-shirt after all.

 

As I lay there on my back wishing I had another beer, I rationalized that they would not be doing this if it was at all dangerous. I mean, they do this every day and they wouldn’t do it if anybody had ever gotten hurt – and, besides, they probably had really good insurance. As I waited for the 6,000 pound behemoth to lumber towards me I could hear some poor soul praying for some way to get back into the stands. Wait! That was me! Calming myself down, I figured what is the worst that could happen – he steps on me and I no longer have to worry about my diet. OK, that’s not so bad – but then, with a start, I became conscious of an even greater horrendous possibility. What if, in the process of stepping over me, the elephant suddenly heeded the call of nature! I could literally be buried alive! And SailorJill was sitting over there with her camera. I would become an indentured servant – sentenced to months of washing and ironing to keep that picture from being e-mailed to family and friends. Now I was having trouble deciding which was worse - being stepped on or dropped on. I needed to get out of there!

 

But before I could get up and run back into the stands a huge grey leg passed over my chest, then a second leg, then a belly even bigger than mine, then two gigantic (did I mention this was a male elephant)… wrinkled back legs – and then the moment of truth – the elephant’s hindquarters. As I waited for the worst (was that an ominous gastric rumble coming from deep within the elephant?) - I suddenly saw a rather blurry, filtered blue sky.

 

Like Gloria Gaynor, I had survived! Rising from the blanket and dusting myself off, I (with what I felt was justifiable pride) sauntered back to where SailorJill was sitting. “Well, how did I do?” “Jack, you looked pretty calm until the very end when you pulled your shirt up over your face. What was that all about?” Before I could think up a believable explanation I was saved when it was announced that the elephant rides were starting, so we headed over to the corral.

 

Day 6 – Phu My (Saigon, Viet Nam)

 

This is our first visit to Viet Nam and we are eagerly anticipating our exploration of Ho Chi Mign City – or Saigon as it is still called by its inhabitants. For this tour our guide provided us with a unique electronic appliance complete with bright blue ear buds and a phosphorescent yellow neck strap. While looking like something out of a Star Trek movie, it actually turned out to be a personal communication device by which our guide could converse with us without our having to crowd around her like some Australian rugby scrum. The device had two blinking lights - when the red light was blinking we could hear the guide and if we pressed the blinking green light we could speak to the guide to ask a question. How cool was this! Not only could we actually hear what the guide was saying, but we could follow her without having to constantly be looking for an umbrella sticking up in the air.

 

One of the most meaningful stops on this memorable tour was at the Reunification Palace – which had served as military headquarters during the war and has now been converted into a museum. And it was here that we first became aware that Viet Nam tour operators are still in their infancy with respect to marketing and have yet to grasp the fundamentals of positive thought. This is highlighted by our tour operator’s brochure which describes the Reunification Palace as “beautiful in its ugliness.” (I couldn’t help but think back to those first art class drawings I brought home for SailorJill to see - which she pronounced “beautiful.”)

 

After leaving the Reunification Palace we passed a shop displaying an intricately designed oriental sword that would be perfect for my collection. “Jack, we don’t have time. Our group is getting ready to leave.” “Don’t worry it’ll just take a second. We can catch up with no problem.”

 

Unfortunately, negotiations on the price for the sword took a little longer than anticipated and emerging from the store we find that our tour group has completely disappeared. This was not good – as we had no clue as to what direction they had taken or any idea as to where we were. Too late, I realized that the transceivers we had around our necks were now completely silent. As we stood there, strangers in a strange land, it didn’t take long to realize that we were totally lost.

 

Thankfully, during my years in the Explorer Scouts I had been trained on what to do when lost. OK, but building a fire is probably not the wisest thing to do here on a busy intersection. Anyway, I had no matches. Looking for moss on the north side of a tree was also out as there were no trees around and I didn’t know what good it would do me even if I knew which way was north. Following a river downstream was also out – which brought me to a Scout’s last desperate move - asking local natives for directions.

 

However, as we stood there – bright blue ear buds dangling out of our ears, red and green lights blinking on the communication devices dangling from phosphorescent yellow straps hanging round our necks, and armed with a four and a half foot sword, the natives were staring at us as if we had just beamed down from the Mother Ship and are crossing the street to pass us. Besides, the only phrase I know in Vietnamese (“May I have another beer, please”) wouldn’t be of much help at this point in time.

 

Knowing that indecision could be demoralizing to SailorJill, I pick a direction and we set out at a sprightly pace. Action lifted our spirits immediately and we actually started to feel pretty good. We may not know where we were going, but we were making good time.

 

Then, out of our receivers came a burst of static and “…we can’t wait any longer, everyone get on the bus.” And there on the next corner was our bus! Once we were lost but now we are found! The good news, obviously, was that we had found our group. The bad news was that this was the second time we had been separated and I know our guide would not be happy with us unless we had a valid explanation. As we approached the bus our guide glared at us: “Where have you been? I have looked all over for you!”

 

“Well, this three legged dog was hit by a car and I couldn’t just leave it suffering there in the street so I…”

“There are no dogs around here!”

“Did I say dog? I meant cat. There was this three legged cat…”

“Get on the bus.”

 

After lunch we had some free time and we headed over to the Rex Hotel. It was from this hotel that Walter Cronkite and other American journalists filed their daily war reports and it was to the very famous Roof Bar to which the journalists would then assemble to drink (reportedly) to excess. Having lived through those reports, I was looking forward to living (vicariously) the experiences those correspondents incurred some 40 years ago.

 

Getting off the elevator on the fifth floor SailorJill and I were struck by the absolute beauty of the bar and of the city vistas offered from the roof top. However, walking towards the bar I failed to notice a step up and tripped. After stumbling a few steps trying to regain my balance I somewhat ignominiously fell flat on my face at the foot of the long mahogany bar – whereupon an elderly waiter (who had apparently worked here during the war) came out of the back door, looked at my supine body and asked, “Are you OK? Are you American journalist?”

 

Day 10 - Bali, Indonesia

 

We have arrived at Bali, often called the “most beautiful island in the world.” I have spent years dreaming of coming to this island, and in my mind I have always pictured Bali as an idyllic, remote island populated with little more than endless white sandy beaches, tall swaying palm trees, and Dorothy Lamoure in an enticing sarong. Imagine, then, my abject disillusionment upon learning that the Bali police (I never even pictured the island having police!) had just made a major drug bust in which over 40 people were apprehended – which certainly gives new meaning to Rogers and Hammerstein’s lyrics for “Bali H’ai.”

 

Modern day Bali is now populated with nearly 3,000,000 people – most of whom (and I swear I am not making this up) have had their teeth filed. In a tradition stretching back for centuries, Balinese children, upon reaching a certain age, lay on their back while a man, using a hammer, chisel, and file, grinds down the pointed eye teeth until they are as flat as the other teeth. This is not done, as you may suspect, as a result of some long ago Dutch explorer leaving behind his dog-eared copy of “Vampire Nation”, but because the Balinese regard pointed teeth as a harbinger of many ills – including lust, greed, and insobriety. As it turns out, this painful process is not unique to just Bali. As a child in Canada I, myself, experienced something akin to this procedure; only the man performing it called it a “root canal.”

 

But I digress.

 

I have always been intrigued by the “Watch for Falling Rocks” signs one sees when driving through the Rocky Mountains. I was no less intrigued by the fact that in Bali’s beautiful Wanara Wana Ubud Monkey Forest one must watch for “Falling Monkeys.” Apparently the monkeys have gotten so fat from the peanuts that tourists hand out that they can no longer successfully make the jump from tree to tree – with unfortunate results to both the monkey and the tourist walking underneath. As a result, Park officials had to make a decision – plant four foot trees or ban the feeding of peanuts to the monkeys. After what I am sure was a spirited debate, they chose the latter option, thereby changing the iconic three “no evil” monkeys to “See no Evil, Hear no Evil, Eat no Peanuts.” Frankly, I had no idea how addicted to these tasty goobers the monkeys had become until we were strolling well within the forest when from behind a large tree (and out of sight of the park ranger) a young monkey stretched out his hand beseechingly; and, I swear to God, I think he actually tried to mouth the word “peanut” to me. (I think I may have uncovered the origin of the idiom that addicts use when they say they “have a monkey on their back.”) While I didn’t have any peanuts, I did give him part of my granola bar and prayed he wouldn’t later fall out of a tree grasping a half eaten granola bar with my fingerprints all over it

 

Day 13 – Darwin, Australia

 

In case you were in some doubt as to whether or not Australians have a sense of humor, I have one word for you – Vegemite. Standing amidst a group of Australians waiting to disembark, one of my companions warns me about something called a Mozzie. Apparently this is some kind of biting insect common in Australia and, I am informed, can be warded off by placing a small amount of something called “Vegemite” behind one’s ears.

 

SailorJack: “Vegemite is an insect repellent?”

1st Australian: “Yes, and a very effective one!”

2nd Australian: “Lay off the Yank, mate. While vegemite does a reasonable job as an insect repellant, it is more effective as a natural herbal hair jell.”

Kiwi: “But not as effective as Marmite. In addition to repelling Mozzies and controlling hair, Marmite is effective in clearing up unsightly acne.”

 

Before I could learn more about this amazing product, the disembarkation commenced; but, as fate would have it, I would learn more about Vegemite once ashore.

 

In Darwin it was suggested that we see the famous Jumping Crocodiles. Contrary to my initial assumption, this is not the name of the local rugby team, but is a show involving crocodiles (or “Salties” as they are known locally) that, well, that actually jump! This sounded great to me – as long as I did not have to lay on the ground while one jumped over me! SailorJill, however, is a little leery about the safety aspect of this expedition, but I reasoned with her as to how dangerous can something be with a cute little name like “Saltie?” Besides, they probably have really good insurance. As it turns out, I was wrong on both accounts.

 

The excursion consisted of a bunch of us getting on a little thin-hulled aluminum boat and put-putting down the Adelaide River – which was filled with hungry crocodiles of various dimensions – none of which would fall into the “small” classification. When our guide estimated that we had reached the deepest part of the river (and the furthest point from the safety of either shore) he proceeded to tie a huge piece of red, raw meet onto a bamboo fishing pole and to then dangle it over the side of the boat a few feet above the water. Within a few seconds, the biggest, meanest, fifteen and half foot long killing machine I have ever seen leaped straight up out of the water and tried to snatch the meat. He would have gotten the meat too, but the guide yanked the meat up out of the crocodile’s reach. As the croc fell back into the water you could tell he was not happy. And this huge monster (I half expected to see Ahab lashed to his side; his free arm beckoning us to join him) was not something you wanted to make unhappy!

 

This scenario was repeated several more times, and each time that the croc splashed back into the river empty handed he would turn and glare at me with those baleful yellow eyes - and it became apparent that he was beginning to think that his failure to get the meat was all my fault. As he tensed to make a fourth leap, I began to sense that he was computing which was closer - the four pounds of raw, red meat dangling from the fishing pole or the 200 pounds of fresh red meat pressed up against the boat’s railing. It was at this point that I decided that standing next to the guide holding the fishing pole was not in my best interest and I offered my position to SailorJill so that she might have a better view. Declining my offer, SailorJill turned to the guide and inquired as to whether or not the giant croc could ram the boat. “I hope not,” was his response, “we aren’t insured for that.” Oh great! Now, with visions of “Jaws” running through my mind I began to wonder if Vegemite might also be an effective crocodile repellent – and did we have any aboard.

 

Well, to make a long story short, the croc did not ram the boat, we did not have to swim for shore, the croc got his four pounds of meat, and we have now survived encounters with Orangutans, monkeys, elephants and crocodiles. This was starting to look more like a safari than a cruise!

 

Darwin (Continued)

 

Well, we are back from our fantastic day in Darwin, and I need to update you on Vegemite. On the menu at lunch today was something called a “Vegemite Sandwich.” As it turns out, Vegemite is actually a bread spread! And, with all due respect to my Australian friends, not one for which you and I will soon be developing a taste. Quoting from Wikipedia.com, Vegemite was developed as “a spread made from the used yeast being dumped by breweries” – which goes a long way in describing its taste. It also may help explain the fact that Australia is the number 5 nation in the world in annual beer consumption (we don’t drink it because we like beer, mate; we drink it so there is more dumped yeast from the brewery to make Vegemite!) Actually, the process of making Vegemite is much more refined now and the brand is growing; they now have (I just can’t make this stuff up!) “Vegemite Cheesybite.” Which brings me back to my original premise – any nation that can make a treasured food out of used yeast scrapped from the bottom of a beer vat (and then add cheese) has got to have a great sense of humor!

 

Day 17 - Arlie Beach, Australia

 

We have arrived at our final stop at the port of Arlie Beach – population 2,751 – of which approximately 2,131 are backpackers. Geographically, this is the most beautiful port we have ever seen. It is absolutely stunning. We were planning to spend the day at the beach, but have just been informed that during this time of the year Arlie Beach is home to the Box Jellyfish – which is known locally as a “Stinger” and is described as being “the most lethal jellyfish in the world.” Apparently its tentacles can reach 10 feet in length and a significant sting can cause death in as little as 3 minutes. Considering the import of this information we took a few minutes to weigh the pros and cons of our anticipated day at the beach:

 

Pro: Nice relaxing day swimming in the warm waters off the coast of Northern Australia.

Con: Death

 

Our examination of this problem was not helped by a nearby Canadian who not only kept mumbling “Oh, Death where is thy Sting”, but who was also apparently in the middle of an identity crisis as he was wearing both a Montreal Alouettes T-shirt and a Winnipeg Blue Bomber baseball cap. And, by the way, what the heck is an Alouette anyway (except maybe the opposite of Aloudry)? And just what is a Blue Bomber? As a Canadian I have struggled with these questions for years!

 

But I digress yet again.

 

In a vote closer than it should have been, we decided to forgo the beach and to consider other activities. One possibility was spending the day at the very nice stinger-free enclosed salt water lagoon built by the city for summer months swimming. But swimming in a lagoon has never been an option for me after, as a young and impressionable child, I watched (from between my slightly opened fingers) the gruesome underwater stalking scene in the “Creature from the Black Lagoon.”

 

The option we did select was a sailing excursion to the White Sunday Islands - probably so named by Captain Cook when he first saw the sun bouncing off the gleaming white sandy beaches on an early Sunday morning back in 1770. As funny as the name sounds, island residents are just happy that the sand was not the same color as that found at the famed Waianapanapa Black Sand Beach in Maui and that Cook did not discover the islands two days earlier in the week. The islands (known locally for some reason as the Whit’sundays) appear to have been first settled by émigrés from Australia’s Northern Territory (NT) and those first settlers were thought to be extremely foolish to move to those primitive and remote islands off the eastern coast. However, while the general consensus may have been that these people had a couple of roos loose in the upper paddock, there is absolutely no evidence (anecdotal or otherwise) that these first émigrés were referred to as NiT Whits. In any event, history has certainly proved them to be right as the Whit’sundays are now one of Australia’s top vacation destinations.

 

Day 18 Sydney, Australia

 

Our cruise is over, but it has been a fantastic one! We have visited two continents, five countries, and 8 exciting ports. We crossed the Equator and sailed over 7,000 miles on the South China Sea, Indian Ocean, Java Sea, Timor Sea, Arafura Sea, Coral Sea, and the South Pacific Ocean. We rode elephants, petted kangaroos, fed crocodiles, feasted with Orangutans, dined on exotic foods, learned a new language and made new friends. What more could I ask from a cruise… except, maybe, a visit to the Palace of Seven Pleasures?

Pictures coming as soon as I can upload them.

LOL. Fabulous, Jack. As usual. :D

AS always SAILOR Jack a fabulous story . I love the way you tell it

Re the elephant stroll over you ..how many people can claim to have seen what you saw as he casually walked over you So conclude it was a UNIQUE experience few tourists have had ...2 gonads dangling in the face!!!!

 

 

Michele

Once again a wonderfully witty cruise report, I enjoyed it thoroughly and thought you were an extremely brave sailor to lie down with elephants.

Terry

Awesome report!!!

Cheers.

Great review! Loved the hot dinner and tartare part! ;)

Thank you for the little escape you provided in my day. The only sad part was my running out of tea half way through your report! Fortunately, I have a stash of dark chocolate that fortified me through the rest. And just for the record, we have a jar of vegemite in the back of one of our kitchen cupboards that has made 3 moves with us, and survived some 15 years. Our treasured souvenir of Australia. Many fine memories - especially the one where my father mistook the rather large jar of it (the sun had not yet risen over Uluru) for Nutella...and slathered it on his bun. His Mennonite heritage forced him to finish the whole thing, much to the amusement of our group!

It may not quite be Christmas yet but finding a new review from you is like getting your favorite present under the tree :) I have almost as much fun reading your reviews as you have taking the cruise.

Thank you and happy holidays to you and Sailor Jill!

Thoroughly entertaining once again! You are a gifted writer.

Hilarious!

Yes... entertaining as always. Have a happy holiday! :)

Thanks for another enjoyable review - Happy Holidays to you & Sailor Jill.

Great trip report. Thank you. I laughed all the way through. Glad you had a wonderful trip.

I loved your review! Awesome as always. Thanks for sharing your adventure!:)

Hi, thank you...I have had a great laugh reading your thread.

 

 

 

kind regards, Lorraine in sunny Cairns.:):)

Grouse review Jack, fair dinkum!:D

Sailor Jack you are a master!!! The elephant story was almost as funny as the camel saga in one of your earlier posts. I still read that one and laugh the whole day. Glad you had another wonderful trip and happy holidays!

I did not want this to end, fabulous read.

 

By the way we now have vegemite chips over here now. (Also know as crisps)

I had to search for photos of the Grandfather Rock in Ko Samui. Of course, now my wife wants to go there.

 

Thanks for the laughs. Another great review.

Thank you, Jack!!! when is your next adventure??

Tears are still rolling down my face, and I had to take a short hiatus to relieve pressure lest I have an unseemly accident. A SailorJack novice.

Liz

Thanks for the tales and the laughs!

Fantastic review. I love your sense of humour, you really deserve to be an "honourable Aussie".

 

Wish we could meet you on one of our cruises.

 

Jennie

Jennie, I think it would almost pay a cruiseline to have him regale the passengers of his antics.

Maybe we should pay him to cruise with us again over here so we can further his education on Aussie slang.