Carinval Glory - NYC to New England... A Memoir

[pe4all]

What are you doing up at 2:08 am posting? Better yet, what am I doing up at 5:45 am reading this?:p Hope you got a picture of your dd's in the stroller together. You can use it in the future when they get older and are fighting. Just pull out that picture and say "look - you 2 loved each other at one time." That will stop the fighting for about 2 minutes! Still loving this review. LMAO over the white socks pulled all the way up. I thought I solved this problem by buying dh the tiny just over the ankle ones instead of the calf-high ones. He tried pulling them up to mid-calf, and ripped the toes out also. So I solved THAT problem by buying him the tiny ones that cover the foot only - he tried pulling those up out of his sneakers and ripped the toes out of those- but only on the right foot. So I have a drawer full of 3 sizes of white socks - lefts only! Have to love those walmart prices, though!;)

[SnowWhiteNYC]

I suppose we have to wait until tonight...that inconvenient work thing is going to keep us in suspense?

[halos]

Really enjoying this :)

I am sorry you didn't go into the Citadel though. It's really very inetresting.

[rnvattes]

Just out of curiosity... is anyone still reading this? Because my fingers are getting pretty tired. If you're still reading, I'll keep going. As a funny little factoid about me - this little story/memoir is by far the longest thing I've ever written. Even my college papers weren't this long, and I can't even plagiarize this stuff! If there's anyone still here, you're witnessing a milestone in my life. Thanks for sharing this moment with me. It really means a lot to me, and makes me feel loved. Hello?

 

READING!

 

Day off home alone, too hot to go outside. Going to read to the end of what's here!

 

Hope you finish it off. I peeked at the ending (I was looking to see if you went to Boston -- being from that area) and saw you had to go back to work and so expected a slow down in production. Crossies for you to find some time to keep us laughing!

[IreneCat]

Thanks for this excellent review! I'll be on the Glory in November (to the Caribbean, not Cananda.) I hope to do a Canada cruise one of these years. I look forward to the rest of your review. I enjoy your writing style!

[Delta Hotel]

I thought I solved this problem by buying dh the tiny just over the ankle ones instead of the calf-high ones. He tried pulling them up to mid-calf, and ripped the toes out also. So I solved THAT problem by buying him the tiny ones that cover the foot only - he tried pulling those up out of his sneakers and ripped the toes out of those- but only on the right foot. ;)

 

Excuse me, PE4ALL... I believe that the "problem" you're describing here isn't really his sock-wearing habits, but rather the fact that you seem to believe that his sock habits are a problem at all. The sock-solution you're looking for is a pair of socks that are capable of going over-the-knee without being stretched. Since wearing the sock over the knee is uncomfortable, he'll let them stop in the dip between the calf and the knee, and then there's no need to stretch the toe. Ta-da!

 

I'm no doctor, but... I'm just saying that you shouldn't torture your husband with short socks.

Edited July 19, 2011 by Delta Hotel

[rnvattes]

You have no idea.;):rolleyes:

 

He gets really excited about white tube socks, too. And since he insists on hiking them up to his chin, they get holes in the toes and need to be replaced frequently. A pack of good ole Wal-Mart white tube socks, a pack of undershirts, and a sexy new sweater vest and my Christmas (or Birthday) shopping for DH is DONE!:cool:

:p :p

[pe4all]

[quote name=Delta Hotel;29845472

 

I'm no doctor' date=' but... I'm just saying that you shouldn't torture your husband with short socks.[/quote]

But that's half the fun! The other 1/2 is torturing him to be more "with it" so he doesn't look like the stereotypical CPA that he is!:D At least he doesn't wear socks with his sandals - I have won that battle.:)

[Delta Hotel]

But that's half the fun! The other 1/2 is torturing him to be more "with it" so he doesn't look like the stereotypical CPA that he is!:D At least he doesn't wear socks with his sandals - I have won that battle.:)

 

[looking down at the ground with my eyes closed, shaking head slowly from side to side] that's very sad. Very sad, indeed. I've lost yet another commrade in the sock war. Please let him know that I'll be having an extra beer tonight, just for him.

 

DH

[midwestlady]

Thanks, DH, for your cruise review!

Our family (me, my DH, and our 17 year old DS) will be going on this same cruise on the 25th! Have not sailed with Carnival before - so really appreciating your "take" on things! Did the Alaska cruise with Celebrity and loved it! I have been taking notes - so far I have the Fish-n-Chips bar, Indian menu, and brown packets of sugar on my notes. Anxiously awaiting to see what happens when you return to the pier and deposit your Sprite bottle.

Was saddened to see that I had reached the end of your postins, and I will admit that I felt a little guilty when I saw your 2:00am posting. The 17 year old completely understands your thoughts on the purpose of soap! He came in to check on me when he heard my hysterical laughter this morning. I totally lost it at the thought of your grandmother "bathing" you with gasoline and a Scotch Brite! Wow.

I know that on this cruise I will find myself looking around the MDR for Nenand (as in Leonard) and will be listening closely to the way the levels are pronounced on the elevator. We leave on Friday to visit with DH's family in New Jersey. ( Yes, called DH on phone to relay early story about New Jersey!) Will definitely take laptop with us to continue your story as we travel! Special thanks to Shaky for her "gems" that she adds to the blog! Will check back later today to see what escapades await.....

[Delta Hotel]

About half-way down Prince Street, we reach a cross street. We stop at the corner, look both ways for cars, and then proceed down the sidewalk ramp onto the street. We cross the mostly level street and arrive at the sidewalk ramp on the other side. Normally, with one kid in the stroller I would tighten my grip on the handles while also applying some down-force. This causes the front wheels to come up a little so that I can use our inertia to get the front wheels over the lip of the ramp. Well, I begin to do this as we approach the ramp. Right as the front wheels are about to reach the inch-and-a-half concrete lip, I push down on the handles.

 

I forgot to account for BOTH kids being in the stroller! As I push down, I feel the handles bend under the extra weight of two kids in the seat. It’s too late. The front wheels hit the lip and stop, and the little 5-year-old falls off of her big sister’s lap, forward onto the sidewalk. I’m standing in the street behind the stroller. Daughter #1 is still in the stroller looking at her sister lying on the sidewalk. Wifey’s rushing to help Daughter #2 up off of the ground.

 

Daughter #2 stands up, makes a little wrinkled face and looks at her palms and proceeds to wipe the dirt and rocks off of them. She leans her head to the right and rolls her right arm to look at her elbow. It’s got some scrapes, dents, and bits of sand stuck in it.

 

My daughters have always been quite different. Daughter #1 is very emotionally and physically sensitive. Daughter #2 has always been tougher. We’ll often hear a loud crash, thump, or thwack onto the floor, and immediately hear Daughter #2 yell, “It’s OK! I’m OK.”

 

After the fall onto the sidewalk, she doesn’t cry. She only winces a little when Wifey reaches in her purse and breaks out her 25th (give or take 3) Germ-X alcohol wipe of this cruise and begins to wipe her hands and elbow. Daughter #2 isn’t surprised by this – these kids don’t even stop talking when handed a Germ-X wipe before dinner; they just take it, keep talking, wipe their hands and pass it to the next one. If we happen to be in a restaurant without a tablecloth, the last girl to get the wipe uses it on the table surface in front of them after cleaning their hands. Like I said, they’re used to it.

 

With only one kid in the stroller now, I push it up onto the sidewalk and get myself out of the street. Daughter #2 climbs back into Daughter #1’s lap and sits back down. While the kids are getting situated in the stroller, I look up and notice that the building that we’ve stopped in front of is called “The Wooden Monkey.” I don’t know anything about it, and don’t remember anything about it, but it appeared to be a restaurant or something. Wifey instructs the girls to hold on tight, again. Daughter #1 was upset, and said that she was sorry for letting her sister fall. Wifey tells her, “It’s not your fault that she fell, but you need to hold on tight, and don’t let go if she starts to fall.”

 

We continue down the hill without any more accidents, but since both kids had already fallen, we’re at a 50% casualty rate for the family… which isn’t good. As we walk, we come up on McKelvie’s, a restaurant that Wifey had read about on Cruise Critic. We wanted to go here, so we stopped at the corner and asked both daughters if they wanted to stop and get lunch. Fall victim #1 said, “I can’t go into a restaurant, my jeans are all muddy.” Wifey tells her that it’ll be OK, this time. Fall victim #2 looks at the restaurant in front of us and says, “What kind of food do they have?” We tell them it’s seafood and steak, and they both decline the offer. Wifey and I look at each other, exchange glances, and silently agree to go elsewhere for lunch.

 

We don’t normally let our children decide what we’re going to do, however we were sympathizing with Daughter #1’s pre-pubescent self-consciousness about being covered in mud and going into a restaurant. Also, for me, it’s a young spark of pride in one’s self appearance, and I don’t want to squash that. Where we live, there are so many people that go to restaurants, the grocery store, and shopping in sweat pants, undershirts, flip-flops, and sometimes pajamas in the middle of the day. These are probably the same people that go to the MDR in a wife-beater, cut-off jean shorts, and wet flip-flops.

 

While we’re stopped, I snap this picture of some building. They just don’t make buildings like they used to… literally. Where’s all of the style now-a-days? It seems that buildings these days are just made to go up as quickly as possible, and to hold as many people as possible… there’s so little style left in architecture, it seems. While I’m looking up at the buildings, Wifey snags the stroller from me, and refuses to let me push it from this point on. I don’t put up a fight, and resume picture taking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

As we cross Lower Water Street and reach the waterfront area again, I see a large, impressive Canadian flag flying on the mast of a ship. I take a picture and I think to myself, “If I were a Canadian, looking at this flag would give me a very proud chest-puffing moment.” I am, however, not a Canadian. I take a moment to respect the tidy-and-friendly people of Canada, and then resume being my normal American self.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When we reach the other side of Lower Water Street, we’re near the front of the Maritime Museum. We turn right and pass the front of the museum while heading back toward the ship. Near the museum, we hear what sounds like an old train – a coal or steam engine chugging along and occasionally tooting its horn. Wifey and I look around and don’t see anything, but we can still hear it. I follow the sound, and it’s coming from a pipe coming out of the ground. The pipe is about 8 inches in diameter, black, and about 12 feet tall, with a rain-cap on top. It looks like the smoke stack from an old wood-burning or coal-burning stove. Anyway, this pipe didn’t seem to have any purpose other than making train noises. We shrugged our shoulders and moved on.

 

On a street corner ahead of us, I see another street-side recycling center. I get excited, but try not so show it. I don’t want my daughters to know that I’m a weirdo. I’m sure some of it leaks out on a day-to-day basis, but I’d like to keep them from experiencing the full-force of my “personality”.

 

We walk over to the recycle crushy box and I pull out my Sprite bottle – you know the one I’ve been holding onto all day for exactly this moment? Daughter #1 sees the recycle box, and the plastic bottle in my hand. She attempts to jump up, but then realizes that her sister is sitting on her. She exclaims, “Oh Daddy! May I do it?!” Daughter #2 hears this, quickly looks around to see what she’s missing out on, puts one and one together, and then also yells, “I wanna do it! May I do it?!”

 

Another mundane dilemma for me. Without showing any disappointment, I say to them, “Sure, you both can do it. You [5-year=old] take the bottle and walk it over to the last recycle bin, then hand it to your sister. You [8-year-old] take it from her, and place it into the bin through that hole.” Both “injured” children spring out of the stroller and run into position, one of them next to me and the other by the recycle bin 10 feet away. I hand the bottle to the little one, she takes it carefully with both hands, turns and walks it over to her big sister, staring at the bottle in front of her face the whole way, as if it were a delicate and fragile antique.

 

Big sister takes it and for a moment, pauses to decide if the bottle should go into the hole “cap first” or “bottom first”. She decides on “cap first”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As she puts the bottle into the “Solar Compactor”, I listen carefully. It’s a plastic bottle, so I knew that I wouldn’t be hearing the metal crushy sound or the glass-crushy sound, but I was hoping for something in the crushy-sound family. We heard nothing… very sad. I listened for a few seconds, then kept waiting, hoping that it would slowly register the new bottle and begin its mini-solar-powered-crushing-mayhem. Didn’t happen. We walked away with a defeated, miserable feeling. Well, I think that might have just been me. They all seemed chipper enough.

Edited July 19, 2011 by Delta Hotel

[pe4all]

[looking down at the ground with my eyes closed, shaking head slowly from side to side] that's very sad. Very sad, indeed. I've lost yet another commrade in the sock war. Please let him know that I'll be having an extra beer tonight, just for him.

DH

ROFLMAO:D

 

We heard nothing… very sad. I listened for a few seconds, then kept waiting, hoping that it would slowly register the new bottle and begin its mini-solar-powered-crushing-mayhem. Didn’t happen. We walked away with a defeated, miserable feeling. Well, I think that might have just been me. They all seemed chipper enough.

OMG - all that carrying the bottle around for nothing? What - maybe this well help: swoosh, hmmm, crunch, burp- (oops - sorry - the burp was from my Subway sandwich from lunch) sound effects the solar powered recycler would make!

[hc14]

this is brilliant! do you have a blog?

[Delta Hotel]

this is brilliant! do you have a blog?

 

Hey there HC14! Thanks! and no, I don't have a blog. I don't like writing.

[Delta Hotel]

As a side note for anyone that's interested, Microsoft Word tells me that my "memoir" of this cruise is currently 104 pages long (including pictures), with 38,084 words.

[NeuroQueen]

We dont care how long it is and you shouldn't either since you have told us you can read or write! haha! Just keep writing. You are hilarious!!!!! We are all on the edge here!!!

[ShakyBeef]

We dont care how long it is and you shouldn't either since you have told us you can read or write! haha! Just keep writing. You are hilarious!!!!! We are all on the edge here!!!

 

 

:eek: Yikes! Crack that whip!

 

Sorry, folks. I've been grocery shopping and preparing dinner so I wasn't around to proofread his next installment. He's been typing away all day (stayed home from work again - if he weren't the owner, he'd probably be fired by now:rolleyes:). Then I had the nerve to make him step away from the computer to eat dinner with the family.

 

Work is resuming, now.

 

Please hold.

 

Your call is very important to us.

 

[halos]

We don’t normally let our children decide what we’re going to do, however we were sympathizing with Daughter #1’s pre-pubescent self-consciousness about being covered in mud and going into a restaurant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another mundane dilemma for me. Without showing any disappointment, I say to them, “Sure, you both can do it. You [5-year=old] take the bottle and walk it over to the last recycle bin, then hand it to your sister. You [8-year-old] take it from her, and place it into the bin through that hole.” Both “injured” children spring out of the stroller and run into position, one of them next to me and the other by the recycle bin 10 feet away. I hand the bottle to the little one, she takes it carefully with both hands, turns and walks it over to her big sister, staring at the bottle in front of her face the whole way, as if it were a delicate and fragile antique.

 

 

Ok, aside from being a very interesting writer, I just wanted to tell you that you're a very cool Dad. Your girls are fortunate.

(I'm sure Shaky is a fabulous Mom as well :))

Edited July 20, 2011 by halos

[Delta Hotel]

Now we’re on the waterfront boardwalk to head back to the ship. I continue to stare into the water as we walk along the docks. The girls are still sitting in the stroller and Wifey is pushing them down the boardwalk. She’s slightly ahead of me because my walking speed is limited by my brain’s ability to stare off to one side at water while attempting to coordinate two legs and feet, and trying not to run into anyone/anything without actually looking forward – because, again… I’m staring at water. Wifey occasionally stops, looks back 20-30ft, and waits for me to catch up.

 

We round a corner and see the Hamachi Steakhouse, again. Wifey and I had both noticed this place earlier this morning because of their table umbrellas. All of their outdoor tables had large black umbrellas with the Sapporo logos. Sapporo is one of my favorite beers. My favorite beer is the one that I’m having right now, and the one I drink after this one is my next favorite.

 

We decide that we’re going to stop here for lunch, whether the girls want to or not. We inform them of our decision, and Daughter #1 reminds us of her muddy jeans and doesn’t want to go in. Just to be clear, her fall on the hill did leave a lot of mud on her jeans. She’s wearing sandals, and the tops of her feet are caked with mud, most of it dried up by now. Her jeans are solid brown from the ankle up to the knee on the left leg. The right leg didn’t have as much. The mud was caked on thick enough that you could see the impression left by individual blades of grass. We tried to knock most of it off, but there was a lot, and it was ground into the denim.

 

 

 

 

We told her that we’d be eating outside, so the mud wouldn’t be an issue, and it wasn’t as big of a deal as she thought it would be. We walked up to the outdoor seating area and a hostess came to greet us. My first question to the hostess before we were seated was, “Do you actually have Sapporo, or do you just have the umbrellas?” She said that they did, so my only requirement was met. We sat down at a nearby table and our waitress brought us menus.

 

 

 

The Hamachi Steakhouse is mostly a hibachi style restaurant with inside tables where the chef cooks in front of you. In addition to this, they also serve sushi, steak, and a few other Asian style dishes.

 

On the menu, I notice that there’s a Vietnamese Vermicelli dish. I read the description and it sounds exactly like a popular Vietnamese dish that’s served in almost every Vietnamese restaurant around the world. I haven’t been around the world.

 

 

 

 

Wifey: “You’re not going to order that here, are you? You know it’s not going to be real Vietnamese. It’s going to be that ‘Vietnamese style’ that you’ve been disappointed with before.”

Me: “Yeah, I know, but I’ve never had Canadian Vietnamese! I’d like to see if they make it any different than everywhere else.”

Wifey: “Ok, fine. I’m here for the sushi.”

Daughter #1: “They have sushi here? Do they have edamame? If so, I’d like some of that, please.”

Wifey: “Do you want anything else to eat?”

Daughter #1: “No, just that.”

Daughter #2: “Do they have milk?”

Wifey: “I don’t know, I’ll ask the waitress when she comes back.”

 

I order a Sapporo and the Vietnamese Vermicelli for lunch. The waitress begins to tell me what a great choice I’ve made, and begins to describe the dish to me. I politely wait for a pause, then inform her that I’m familiar with the dish, and I’ve been eating Vietnamese food my whole life. This was more of a conversational point, not a, “Would you please stop talking; I already know what I’m ordering.”

 

Wifey orders the sushi lunch special, a side order of unagi nigiri, and hot tea. We order a bowl of edamame and two glasses of milk for the girls, which is all they wanted. The drinks come out quickly. I get my Sapporo in a tall glass, the girls receive their milk in what I call “piña colada” glasses, and Wifey gets her hot tea in a small, colorful, ceramic tea pot.

 

 

 

 

While we sip our fresh beverages and wait for our lunches, we sit and watch a street performer 50 feet away. He’s doing things like balancing on a board, juggling dangerous things, spitting fire, putting fire down his pants - that kind of stuff. The girls are intrigued and watching with muted amazement. Of course, while they’re watching, I feel compelled to tell them, “Don’t ever do any of the things that he’s doing. He’s got other people paying for his health care.”

 

[Proudairborne/RangerMom]

During this time, my lovely wife takes a trip down to our room with some of the luggage. Normally, the whole family would enter the hotel room or cabin, and no one is allowed to touch anything. The kids and I stand in the room until my wife “clears” the chair or couch. Once the chair or couch are declared bed-bug free and a reasonable level of clean, the kids sit down and wait while the rest of the room is cleared. During this time, I’m dragging luggage into the room and also trying not to touch anything. I assist with the “clearing” process, but I don’t think that I have the authority to actually declare anything as being clean… I don’t have a great eye for telling the difference between “clean” and “not clean”. I can normally manage the difference between “clean” and “absolutely disgusting”, but the more subtle shades of cleanliness are difficult for me. Like I said, normally, we’d be in the room during the clearing process. This time, I waited with the girls in the atrium lounge area while my wife cleared the room. This way, she’s able to work more effectively in the room, we’re sitting comfortably in the atrium, and everyone’s happy.

 

Our room on this cruise was an Ocean View, starboard, Deck 1, cabin 1-241. We’ve never had a cabin on Deck 1 before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. As it turns out, I never noticed a difference other than we had to wait a few seconds longer on the elevator when going from Lido to our cabin. Again, I’m not terribly observant in most things, so there may actually be a large difference from Deck 1 to Deck 6, but I don’t think I noticed. The most interesting thing about being on Deck 1 occurred on our Saint John, New Brunswick port-day, which I’ll try to mention later.

 

When Wifey comes back to the atrium to fetch us, we quickly pack up our toys and head down to cabin. I personally like the long and straight hallways on many ships. Carnival Glory has straight hallways for guest cabins so you can almost see from one end of the ship to the other. We’ve cruised on the Pride a couple of times and I don’t particularly care for the zigzag hallways. I find the little jogs in the hallway annoying and disorienting. When navigating the hallways on the Pride, it always feels like you’re about to run into someone coming around the corner, so I have a constant (albeit low-level) anxiety about walking through those halls, never knowing who you might run into around the next corner. On the Glory, when you step out of the elevator lobbies into the guest hallways, you glance down the hall, and after the first day or so, you know exactly how far till your cabin, or how much traffic you’ll encounter getting there. Anyway, I like the long and straight hallways… and Glory has them.

 

We find our cabin, enter, and begin to uncompress our luggage which was painstakingly packed in order to get all of our junk into them. My suitcase works a little differently than the girls’ bags. The girls had their bags packed over the course of weeks, allowing gravity to press out every cubic millimeter of air before packing the next layer in. My suitcase has the ability to expand by a couple of inches like many suitcases, but I consider it a small defeat to have to use that expansion zipper. I would like to think that I could pack everything I need into my suitcase without having to unzip that extra space. For me, it’s akin to loosening your belt or unbuttoning your pants after you’ve clearly eaten too much. Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not on any moral high-horse; I find myself unbuttoning my pants after dinner more and more frequently these days… and I’ve used that expansion zipper a few times. I still consider it a small defeat. Usually, I pack for a cruise the night before we leave. I think this used to stress my wife a little, but she’s gotten used to it by now. Either that, or she’s just stopped making audible mention of it. I start packing from the ground up. I was taught by my uncle when I was a teenager to pack light, and to start from the ground up so you don’t miss anything.

 

I bring two pairs of shoes – my black dressy shoes and my sneakers. I pack the sneakers, and wear the black shoes onto the ship. Next comes my socks. I take the number of cruise days, multiply by 2.5, add the travel days to and from the port which includes hotel days if we’re staying overnight, add 2, and then divide by 10% of the average predicted temperature of the originating port for that week. Once I’ve done all of that, then I pack 8 pairs of white tube socks, 5 pairs of black socks. Next is underwear, then pants, then one nice black belt, undershirts (half as many V-necks as crew-necks), polo shirts, T-shirts, and button-down shirts. Then I throw in my bath-bag, a couple of handkerchiefs, and my black suit neatly folded in half, on top. Usually by now, my suitcase is about 80% full. This is where I smile, breathe a sigh of success, and zip it up. This also happens to be the moment that Wifey says something like “do you have extra room in there?” To which my reply is a quick “No, it’s full.” Then we stare at each other for a few seconds, and she hands me the overflow from the other bags to fill mine. See? A perfectly refined system.

 

Back to the cabin – we unpack for the next 30 minutes or so. Wifey unpacks the kids’ stuff, her stuff, organizes the bathroom, and whatever else she does. I unpack my big suitcase in a minute or two because all of my shirts, pants, and suit are already on hangers inside the suitcase. This way, I’m never short on hangers in the cabin, and my wife knows that she can have most or all of the hangers in the closets when she starts. I just unzip the suitcase, grab the bundle of hanger hooks, lift up, and place on the bar… voila! I then shove my 13 pairs of socks, underwear, undershirts, and my 3 pairs of emergency socks into the bottom of the closet and I’m done. Now I can move onto setting up my laptop, spare laptop, emergency-backup laptop, GPS receiver stuck to the window, wireless internet connection, and charging station for cameras and walkie talkies. All of which are connected to my Kill-A-Watt power meter which tells me how many Watts of power I’m drawing from the outlet; I would hate to use more than my fair share of electricity on the ship… I mean, think of the dolphins!

 

With all your note taking, paying attention to detail to write later and all your lap tops and paraphanalia did you get even just one minute of a relaxing vacation in there somewhere????

[australian_girl]

Thanks for continuing your memoir.

[Delta Hotel]

With all your note taking, paying attention to detail to write later and all your lap tops and paraphanalia did you get even just one minute of a relaxing vacation in there somewhere????

 

Ahhh... it just occured to me that there may be a misconception about this "review". Before, during, and after the cruise, I had no intentions of writing a review. The idea of writing a "review" had never even crossed my mind. I didn't take any notes on the cruise, or make jounal-like entries on my laptops, and didn't decide to write any of this until a few days after the cruise had ended. I didn't take any pictures with the intention of sharing; they were all just for me. I didn't change a single behavior on the cruise for the sake of this review... because I didn't know I was going to write it. This is why this "review" would be more accurately called a "memoir".

 

The day after we returned from the cruise, I asked my oldest daugther to write a report about her cruise experience as a "homework" assignment since she's out of school and needs handwriting practice. My younger daughter's assignment was to draw a picture of her cruise, and to write a sentence at the bottom about the cruise.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few days after they turned in their assignments, I started thinking that I should write my own memories down... so I did. I started writing this memoir after the cruise, just for my own sake. It wasn't intended to be shared. As I wrote and wrote, the idea of sharing it on CC came up. All I had to do was replace our names with generic titles. I'm still writing this memoir for my sake... but you're getting to read it while I write it :). These are all just my thoughts and memories streaming out of my head onto my keyboard. This is how I speak, and this is how I think. Frightening, isn't it?

 

One last thing to add... the laptops and electronics are my standard luggage. I own an IT consulting company which manages thousands of computers and a data center that hosts many servers. For work purposes, I can't be without my computers, so I bring them with me... everywhere. I even have a dedicated laptop mounted in my car with internet 24x7. So, most of my computer paraphenilia was for work, and not for pleasure. I am still a geek at heart, though.

 

Whew! You'd almost mistake this post for part of my story!

[ShakyBeef]

Ok, aside from being a very interesting writer, I just wanted to tell you that you're a very cool Dad. Your girls are fortunate.

(I'm sure Shaky is a fabulous Mom as well :))

 

 

That's sweet, Halos, thank you. We (like most parents, I assume) always hope we're doing it right. He is a great dad!:);)

[Larielaren]

 

 

 

[/color]

 

Your oldest daughter has very nice penmanship and I love your youngest daughter's drawing. :o) I work with children and have started to write down the cute, funny things they say/do because I want to remember them weeks, months and years from now. I share their anecdotes with my husband but don't want to lose the memory.

 

I am truly enjoying your story and anxiously await each new chapter. Thank you for taking the time to post and share. You have a wonderful family!

[Delta Hotel]

Five to ten minutes later, our food comes out. YAY! Before anyone can take a bite, I whip out my camera and snap a few pictures of our Canadian sushi and Canadian Vietnamese food.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Sapporo is excellent. That almost sounds like the restaurant had something to do with it, but they didn’t. It tastes just like Sapporo should. The girls seem to enjoy their milk out of their “fancy glasses”. I can’t remember if Wifey reacts to her hot tea at all – but she doesn’t spit it across the table out of disgust, so I guess it wasn’t bad. By the way, she’d never actually do that. I have to put this disclaimer in here because otherwise, it’s possible that someone could infer that she’s done this in the past. Her tea could have been anywhere between “drinkable” and “wow, that’s really good tea”, and I wouldn’t know.

 

The first thing that I notice about my Vietnamese Vermicelli bowl is how small it is. The dish is $12.99 Canadian, which means (with the current economy) that I’m really paying about $57 US for this bowl. I have eaten this type of dish since I was about 3 years old. I was 8 years old when I was first able to finish the entire bowl by myself. This dish is normally served in a bowl twice the size, for about half the cost. I didn’t care about the $12.99 while ordering, because I expected a much larger bowl. I quickly shrugged this off, and started eating.

 

The first thing that my wife notices about my bowl is the egg roll sitting on top. This egg roll is mostly filled with cabbage! CABBAGE?! While my shock might seem uncalled for, it is perfectly justified. A traditional Vietnamese egg roll has no cabbage, and is mostly ground pork and vermicelli. The Vietnamese people rarely use cabbage in their food, and when they do use it, it’s soaked for about [Vietnamese accent] “thurdy day” in rotting fish juices, hot peppers, lime juice, and other pungent liquids, all of which are left out in the blistering tropical sun. All of this is done in order to make you forget that it’s cabbage. Mostly, I think that Vietnamese people use cabbage to fatten up their pigs so that they can eat them later. Now that’s a good use of cabbage!

 

I keep eating. The rest of the dish is edible, and not bad, but very disappointing if you’re expecting authentic Vietnamese food. On a scale of 1 to 10, I give this dish a 4 for “authenticity”, 3 for “value”, and a 7 for “presentation”.

 

The waitress comes out as I’m eating and asks me, “So how do you like the Vietnamese dish?”

 

I think for a couple of seconds, trying to come up with polite answer without flat-out lying to the girl. To buy myself a little time, I pretend to be chewing something and pretend to swallow when I’ve got my answer. “It’s got a good Vietnamese style”, I say.

 

She smiles and says, “I’ll pass your compliments on to the chef, he’s also Vietnamese! And this is his specialty!”

 

Boy, am I glad that I decided not to be my normal self and tell her the whole truth. That would’ve been awkward. In case you’re wondering, the whole truth would’ve been something like, “Well, I’m very disappointed by this dish. It’s relatively small for the price, the egg roll is full of cabbage, the sauce is like water with yellow food-coloring, and the grilled chicken tastes like it got stuck under a truck’s exhaust and died a horrible, hot death. But it’s got a good Vietnamese style.”

 

Wifey’s sushi is almost the opposite of my dish, though. The sushi lunch platter is only $10, and includes four pieces of common nigiri and six pieces of roll. For the price, it is presented well, tastes fresh, and pretty much what we expect. The side-order of unagi is also reasonably priced at about $5 for two pieces. Wifey eats one piece, and I eat the other. Although it isn’t the best unagi I’ve had, it’s pretty good.

 

The edamame is… well, they’re beans. Nothing to report.

 

It’s getting close to the end of the meal, so I ask the waitress to bring me the check. I look at my beer and it still has about 1/3rd left. It occurs to me again that I don’t have to drive anywhere! I take it, drink it liberally, and enjoy the last few foamy sips. The waitress comes back out and brings me the check. I look at it and start to calculate the tip as I pull out my wallet. I place my credit card on the table with the itemized receipt, and wait for the waitress. She comes back less than a minute later, sees my card on the table, and says, “Credit? Ok, I’ll bring you the credit card machine.” She turns around and goes back into the restaurant. A few seconds later, she walks out with a handheld credit card swipey machine and sets it down in front of me. I’m surprised by this machine because I know how expensive they are to buy and maintain.

 

This next section is mostly a technical rant about hand-held credit card machines. If you’re not interested in reading it, please skip to the word <PARANOID>

 

Many of my clients have restaurants and retail stores, and most of them have considered using this wireless credit card processing machine, but haven’t done so for two reasons. The hand-held credit card machines are expensive and get broken easily, and it trades one form of security for another.

 

The intended purpose of these machines is to make the restaurant patron feel safer by never letting their physical credit card out of their sight. They get to swipe their own card, and put it right back into their purse/wallet without it ever being touched by another person.

 

That does seem like a nice “warm and fuzzy” feeling, right? This form of security is traded for technology security. When you swipe your credit card on a hand-held device in a public place, that hand-held device then must transmit your credit card information through the air to another device inside which “runs” the credit card transaction for you. Yes, it’s true that your card never leaves your sight – but your credit card number, expiration date, name, and bank information is all sent through the air in all directions, for anyone to “see”. In this case, the bank information is that of your credit card issuer, not your personal bank (unless they happen to be one-in-the-same).

 

These wireless devices don’t only talk to their intended wireless “partner”. They broadcast in all directions like a lighthouse, sending their signal to anyone and everyone who’s looking. If there’s a person sitting on a nearby park bench with a laptop, the right equipment, and the know-how to snatch this information out of the air, they could sit there all day collecting credit card information from restaurant patrons. They’d never even be noticed.

 

I must admit that these wireless systems do use varying levels of encryption, but from experience, these systems are normally set up with the minimal level required by the manufacturer, which is often breakable within an hour, and requires no intrusive actions on the part of the hacker. They just sit nearby and leisurely hack. And since restaurant staff don’t change the encryption keys on any regular basis (if at all), once you obtain a successful wireless key, you can use it all day, every day.

 

<PARANOID>

 

I quickly swipe my Carnival Fun Points card, add the tip to the bill using the keypad on the machine (it even provides percentage calculations for you on the screen for common tip amounts) and wait for the machine to approve my card. In a few seconds, it approves the transaction and spits out a receipt that I can sign. While I’m doing this, the girls are playing with the fake plastic grass that came with the sushi. Daughter #2 asks if they can keep it; Wifey agrees to let them keep it. I sign the receipt and thank the waitress. She takes the paper, pen, and machine back inside.

 

You might be wondering why I would go on a rant about wireless credit card transaction security, and then agree to swipe my credit card with the exact same machine I was just ranting about. I do this because I know that the liability terms of the credit card I use have decent (not perfect) consumer protection systems in place to help prevent my being held accountable for fraudulent charges. This doesn’t prevent someone from stealing my information, it just helps prevent me from being responsible when it happens. The key here is knowledge, rather than paranoia. And plus… like there are any criminals in Canada! This place is really clean!

 

It’s approaching “All Aboard” time, and we need to get going. Our “All Aboard” time is 3:30PM, ship’s time. Halifax is one hour ahead of us, so if you’re going on this cruise in the future, try not to use local clocks from shops and restaurants to coordinate your movements, especially back to the ship. This also goes for asking a local, “What time is it?”

 

We’re really not that far from the ship, so we pack up our kids and our stroller, and slowly start moving back to the port building. In case you were wondering, Wifey’s parents split off from us right after the Maritime Museum, and we haven’t seen them since. We imagine that they’re walking around town, or they’ve gone back to the ship.

 

Dad had three small missions while in Halifax. They were to go see the Maritime Museum, to look for a medium-sized Phillip’s head screwdriver, and to locate a grocery store where he could buy java syrup.

 

Dad has always loved being on the water, and considers himself a sailor. They haven’t owned a boat in quite some time, but that’s a technicality. He loves most all things nautical and historical, so the Maritime Museum is a great place for him.

 

The medium Phillip’s screwdriver was actually my request. Daughter #1 has a Fisher Price “Kid Tough” digital camera that she carries around and takes pictures with. These pictures sometimes get printed out at home and then she’ll make her own cruise scrapbook or photo album. Her camera’s batteries and memory card are located under a panel which is held on with screws – therefore, the screwdriver is needed. I forgot to bring one.

 

Java syrup is like Hershey’s chocolate syrup, except sold by Nestle, and tastes like java/coffee. It comes in a plastic bottle, and you get it at the grocery store. You can do a lot of things with it, but I think that most people pour it into milk or on top of ice cream. It has the same consistency as chocolate syrup, but it’s a sweet coffee/java flavor. It’s quite good, and I have one large bottle remaining in my fridge. Dad fell in love with this stuff years ago, but for some reason, it was taken off of the market in the States, and Dad has been searching for it for a long time. He found out that it’s still sold in Canada, so he’s determined to find some, buy it, and take it home. Even though it’s not sold in the US, it’s not on the U.S. Customs list of items that can’t be brought into the country, so he can bring home as much as he can carry in his luggage.

 

We walk back to the terminal and walk through the port building with the ticky-tacky crap. Daughter #1 sees a holographic bookmark with geckos on a bunch of rocks and decides that she really wants it, and that she’ll spend her own saved-up money to buy it. It’s a neat bookmark, and really well made. Daughter #1 was really amazed by it and for only $4 Canadian ($13.50 USD), she could have it for her very own.

 

It’s apparently really difficult to get a scan or picture of a holographic image of geckos on rocks.