Fall Creek Falls - Day Five

Saturday, October 20, 2012 - Homeward Bound

I woke up at 7 a.m., ready to go home.  We'd packed away the food, the dishes, and the cookware before bed last night.  I started the coffee perking while we yanked the linens off the bed and hauled the suitcases and coolers to the truck.  We drank a cup of coffee, then battened down the camper hatches before going to the inn for the breakfast buffet.

A little after 10 a.m., we hitched up the camper and pulled out.  Our plan was to go home a different way than we'd come, so we used the back exit to leave the park.  A few miles later, the road grew curvy and steep.  The camper brakes clicked and groaned, the truck down-shifted and roared as we eased around u-shaped curves.  It took us about an hour to get to flatter, straighter pavement, and when we did, we realized that we were actually on the same road we'd used to get there (the name of the "Bent Beetle" car lot gave it away, as we both remembered having seen it on the way in).

We drove through Murfreesboro and Franklin.  At Franklin, we pulled the camper straight through the middle of the old downtown section, where yuppies were drinking expensive coffee at tables outside hip cafes and strolling their babies down tree-lined sidewalks.  We waved and drove on.  We got on the interstate west of Franklin - enough of these backroads!  It was almost 6 p.m. by the time we backed the camper into our driveway.

Cousin Stephen next door was having a birthday party for himself.  Cousin Stephen is a drummer.  He'd hauled his drum set out in the yard and was testing them out.  His buddies were standing by with their electric guitars.  Together, they comprise a heavy metal band.  Clearly, they were planning to serenade the neighborhood.  Once we'd unloaded the truck, I stepped out in the yard and hollered, "Stephen?"  One of the buddies yelled back that Stephen had gone inside the house for a minute.  I hollered, "Tell him Cousin Joel said he'd bring his banjo over if y'all need him."  We heard muted laughter, but they said they'd tell him, for sure.

A minute later, Stephen came out and gave the drums a good pounding.  One of the other boys played a warm-up riff on his electric guitar.  Suddenly, from across the road, we heard Stephen's Uncle Roger yell from the front porch of his trailer, "Stephen, y'all cut that sh*t out!  Don't nobody want to hear that #*@(! racket!  I'm trying to watch a ballgame over here and can't even hear the #(@)! TV!"  Stephen gave his drum set another pounding in response. 

Joel and I chuckled and went in the house.  We were hungry, and decided we'd go out to eat instead of trying to scare up something to cook at home.  When we came back out to get in the truck, there were two po-lice cars parked in Stephen's yard, blue lights just a-flashin'.  Apparently, Uncle Roger meant business.

When we returned home, Cousin Stephen and the boys had moved the concert inside the house;  the neighborhood was relatively quiet.  I put on my favorite old nightgown and went to bed with a book, not one bit bothered by the soft thumping coming from next door.  I hadn't reached the end of the first page when I conked out.

It's good to be home!

Fall Creek Falls - Day Four

Friday, October 19, 2012 - Pikeville and Places Unknown

This morning, as soon as we’d cleaned up the breakfast dishes, I said, “Let’s get out of here.”  Last night, Joel had mapped out a route to Pikeville.  We climbed in the truck and headed out.

Just outside the park was an Indian trading post, and we stopped to browse.  We told the guy running the store that we were going to Pikeville.  He said we’d miss it if we blinked.

We found it.  We parked the truck on the main drag and got out to look around.  I found a store called “The Loom” that had fabric and a little bit of everything else.  I scored a few tiny skeins of honest-to-goodness tatting thread (I haven't tatted in years, but now I may have to dig out the shuttle and re-learn the art).  Joel found a gun & ammo store that was going out of business and lucked up on a bargain or two.

After we’d pretty much seen all there was to see in Pikeville, we decided to just drive south for a while to see what was there.  If we’d kept driving, we’d have been in Dayton, Tennessee.  I’d already been to Dayton, site of the Scopes Trial, and had no urge to go back there.  We eventually turned around and headed back the way we came.  Before we got back to Pikeville, Joel suddenly turned left and said, “Let’s see what’s up here.”

Pikeville is situated in the Sesquatchie Valley.  To the west was the escarpment of the Cumberland Plateau.  We drove up a little road that was very steep, and so curvy we could almost see our tail lights as we rounded bends.  At the top of the hill, the road forked.  We picked a direction and kept driving.

All this time, I had the laptop open with Streets & Trips loaded, and I was trying to find us on the maps.  The road signage wasn’t the best in the world, and I couldn’t determine our location.  Figuring it was futile effort, I plugged in the GPS and told it to take us to Fall Creek Falls.  After about 10 minutes of “Acquiring Satellite” (during which time we aimlessly drove around) it finally located us.  It said we were only 12 miles away, and that we should keep going the way we were going. 

The roads got narrower and narrower.  If we met a car (and we didn’t meet many), we had to move onto the shoulder to let it pass.  Finally, the GPS shouted "Turn left!"  onto Fire Tower Road.  Joel didn’t much like the looks of the road, but the GPS showed that it led straight into the park.  I convinced him to go.

The pavement gave way to gravel real fast.  We went across washboard ruts, and through mud holes so deep that we feared being swallowed up by them.  Took us about 20 minutes to go two miles.  Joel said, “I hope we find civilization soon, ‘cause I need to whiz.”  I said, “Well, hell…just get out and go.  Who’s going to see you?”  About that time, we topped a little hill, and there was the main road into the park.  We both breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of pavement.

Back at the camp site, we decided to start packing up to leave tomorrow.  When that was finished, we sat outside the camper and spent the afternoon feeding peanuts to the squirrels.   It doesn’t take much to entertain us, eh?

At 6 p.m., we drove over to the Inn.  We’d heard that they put on a good seafood buffet on Friday nights.  Apparently, everyone in three counties knows this and comes to eat on Friday night; there was a line a mile long to get into the restaurant.  Thankfully, the line moved quite swiftly.  To be honest, the buffet wasn’t “all that.”  Catfish, fried shrimp, fried frog legs, crab legs, hush puppies, and sides.  There was also salad and dessert.  We left the restaurant as full as ticks, but thinking that the food hadn’t been quite worth the $24 apiece we’d paid to eat there.  At least we didn’t have to cook.

It’s dark at the campsite now.  The kiddies are hanging close to their own camp sites.  It’s pretty quiet, save for the multitude of dogs barking around the park.  There's an owl hooting somewhere in the trees above us.  Joel said, "I hope that owl swoops down and carries off that little yappy-ass dog up the road so we can get some sleep tonight." 

We leave in the morning.  We’d thought about driving on down to Georgia to see some friends, but we are really just ready to go home.  After four nights in the camper bed, I’m longing for my sleep number mattress, and my garden and my sewing machine are probably missing me.

Fall Creek Falls - Day Three

Thursday, October 18, 2012 - Sparta

It was wet outside this morning.  Last night's rain soaked everything - picnic table, folding chairs, our firewood, everything.  Water dripped from the leaves overhead.  Instead of cooking outside on the stove, we fired up the stove inside the camper and scrambled some eggs to go with the sausage left over from yesterday. 

Today was road trip day.  There isn’t much to see in the immediate neighborhood outside the park, so we looked up some surrounding towns on a map and decided to go to Sparta.  We’d been told there was a Walmart in Sparta, and we needed to go there for some toilet dope and a few other supplies. 

On the drive up to Sparta, we oooh’d and aaaaah’d over the beautiful scenery. 

The hills were riots of color.  I said to Joel, “I’m going to make us a Fall Creek Falls quilt when we get home – yellows, oranges, browns, greens…I can see it in my head.”  He nodded, just to make me think he was listening.

In Sparta, we found a parking spot on the court square.  As luck would have it, our front windshield was aimed directly at a quilt shop!  Joel kind of groaned when he heard my swift intake of breath and followed my gaze.  “It’s fate!” I said as I bailed out of the truck.

It was a really nice little shop, with a really nice little lady running it and nice little ladies shopping in it.  One of the ladies struck up a conversation with us.  It turned out that she and her husband were also camping at Fall Creek Falls; he’d dropped her off and gone to Walmart.  I told Joel that he could go run some errands while I shopped, but he stayed close by.  I’m thinking he was scared to leave me alone with the credit card in a quilt shop. 

After we left the quilt shop, we walked a few blocks down the street to the county museum.  Lester Flatt lived in (or near) Sparta, as did Benny Martin, and one nook in the museum was dedicated to them and their music.  We have never had such personal service at any museum.  One of the attendants stayed at our side, telling us about each display.  It was great.  When we left, she armed us with a flyer or two, and even gave us a 2006 calendar (“It’s out of date, but it’s got pretty pictures of White County in it.”)

By that time, we were hungry.  I was thinking about salsa, chips, and a margarita, and as we drove around, surveying our culinary options, I kept an eye out for a Mexican restaurant.  As we drove, I glimpsed a red, green, and white sign down a side street that said “Casa [Something].”  "I see a Mexican place!" I shouted.  Joel turned the truck around, and we went in.  My first hint that I’d misunderstood the sign happened when we walked in and saw a dessert case that contained cannoli.  Cannoli in a Mexican restaurant?  Sure enough, it was an Italian restaurant.  We ate there anyway.  It was delicious, but the lunch special – two calzone and one personal-sized pan pizza – was way more food than two people ought to eat.  Guess what we’ll be having for dinner tonight?

Back at the camp site, we saw that our next door neighbors had brought a cat with them.  The wife was walking the cat on a leash.  Have you ever seen a cat on a leash?  I hadn’t, but this cat was acting exactly like I would have imagined a cat on a leash would act.  It hunkered, and darted, and fought the leash, and looked utterly pissed and embarrassed to have found itself in this situation.  I wondered if the lady was walking the cat for exercise or if she was taking it out to potty, and as she neared our campsite, I worked up the nerve to just ask her, “Does that cat go potty on the leash?”  You know how funny cats are about their “business.”  They like to sniff, and dig, and squat, and cover it up, and they like some privacy while they’re doing it.  The lady said he “sometimes does,” but they carry a litter box with them anyway.   

Take this to the bank:  you will never, ever catch me taking a cat and a litter box on a camping trip.

Fall Creek Falls - Day Two

Wednesday, October 17, 2012 - Touring the Park

Since it was not very chilly this morning, we opted to cook breakfast outside – sausage and scrambled eggs on the Coleman stove on the picnic table, and gooey, sugary, cinnamon monkey bread in the microwave.  As soon as we’d washed up the dishes, we climbed in the truck for a tour of the park.

Our timing of this trip is perfect; I don’t know if the leaves could be more beautiful.

 

We’ve stayed here before, and on that trip, we hiked down to the falls, so we weren’t all fired-up about hiking down to the waterfalls again.  Instead, we stopped at the overlooks and peeked at the falls from a distance. 

 

 

 

We were back at the campsite by early afternoon.  I made ham sandwiches, and we ate them at the picnic table, watching squirrels play between the campsites.  One of the afternoon’s more entertaining activities went on in the campsite behind ours.  When the campers who were at this site when we got here decided to leave, they backed into a tree while trying to get their camper out of the site.  When the next campers arrived, they backed their camper into a different tree while trying to get in it.  We tried not to giggle, having done some pretty dumb camping sh*t in our day, ourselves.

About 5 o’clock, we started dinner – steaks on the grill, and fried potatoes on the Coleman stove.  It was almost dark by the time we finished eating.  We attempted to build a fire in the fire pit.  It smoldered and smoked, and finally burst into good flames about the time we gave up and went inside for the night.

Some time during the night, a whale of a storm came up.  Acorns, pine cones, and sticks rained down on our camper until it sounded like we were in a popcorn popper.  And the thunder!  Good heavens!  It shook the ground and rattled the dishes in the drain rack.  Joel worried that the wind would twist the  awning right off the camper, and he went outside a couple of times during the night to adjust it.  I couldn’t sleep, either; the little pull-out that contains our “bedroom” collects heat like an oven, and at some point during the night, I crawled across Joel, pillow in hand, and bedded down on the skinny little couch up front.  Between the heat, the uncomfortable bed, and the storm, neither of us slept much.

Mt. Rushmore...NOT; Fall Creek Falls...Maybe

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

We’ve been contemplating a road trip to see Mt. Rushmore.  We figured we’d need about half a day at the monument, and then we’d spend the rest of our two weeks driving here, there, and yonder out west.  But a couple of weeks ago, I checked the weather at Mt. Rushmore, and it was already 28 degrees and snowing.  Neither of us cherished the idea of driving on snowy mountain roads in terrain we know nothing about.  We decided we’d better formulate Plan B.  As our vacation dates approached, I checked the 10-day forecast for Mt. Rushmore.  It looked safe (weather-wise), but by then we were sort of out of the mood to drive that far.

Plan B ended up being a camping trip to Fall Creek Falls, in east Tennessee. 

We pulled out of the driveway at 7:30 this morning.  Stopped at a convenience store for sausage biscuits to go, and then hit the road to Jackson, Tennessee, where we intended to catch highway 412 east, which would take us nearly all the way to Fall Creek Falls.  Long story short, we spent about an hour driving around Jackson, looking for 412.  We found it briefly, then lost it again, and ended up w-a-a-a-ay the hell out in the country.  This, with a GPS, Google Maps on the telephone, and Microsoft Streets & Trips on the laptop.  We couldn’t even find ourselves on a map.  Finally, we found two good old boys loading stuff into the bed of a pickup truck, and they gave us directions that (we hoped) would set us back on course.  Good thing we enjoy traveling the back roads, eh?

Around 1 p.m., we reached Murfreesboro.  Though we had already sampled nearly every “road snack” we’d brought with us, we started thinking about food – real lunch.  I’d brought chicken salad and chips for lunch on the road, but I told Joel, “It wouldn’t upset me to find a Mexican restaurant.”  Evidently, he didn’t take me seriously; he kept driving. 

1:30 p.m. – my legs have commenced cramping.  I said, “I sure would like to get out and stretch.”  He kept driving. 

 2 p.m. – I said, “I NEED TO GET OUT.”  He kept driving.

2:05 – I unbuckled my seat belt.  After a moment, the seat belt alarm went off.  Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.  Joel acted like he didn’t hear it.  So did I.  After another moment, it dinged again.  He glanced over at me.  I pretended not to notice.   The third time the alarm went off, it was insistent.

Dingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingdingding…!

Joel looked over at me.  I could see a little irritation on his face.  “I’m not buckling it until I’ve been let out of this truck,” I told him. 

“I’ll let you out, allright,” he said.  “I’ll put you out, and not let you back in.” 

“You wouldn’t,” I said.

“I might let you get in the back of the truck.  You could stretch out back there,” he said.  I stuck my tongue out at him.  Thankfully, despite my attitude, he pulled over at the nearest convenience store. 

We got out, ate our sandwiches standing up, and were back on the road in 20 minutes.

4 p.m. – We finally arrived.  There were six campers lined up on the road ahead of us, waiting to check in.  We’d already paid in advance with a credit card, so we zoomed past them, found our campsite, and unhitched the camper.  While he lowered the legs and leveled the thing, I went back to the camp office to formally check in.  It took two tries around the loop before I found my way out of the camping area.

This is a nice park.  The camp sites are roomy, so we’re not jammed up in anybody’s front door.  However, the schools around here must be on fall break; the place is swarming with children.  Loud children.   And one of them has the croup and periodically belts out loud, seal-like, barking noises.  No telling when all these little monsters will finally go to bed.

I told Joel that campgrounds need to have “senior” sections – no kids allowed – for us old farts who travel without children.  Naturally, we would not feel this way if they were our own grand-rug-rats kicking up a racket.

January 14-15, 2012 - Homeward Bound

Saturday - At Sea

We had planned to spend our last day aboard the ship sunning on the deck, but that plan changed when we stepped outside to discover that it was about 60 degrees outside.  Brrrrrrrr!  Instead, we spent most of the day in our cabins, packing our suitcases, resting and watching movies.

Around 4 p.m., Joel and I went downstairs and found a martini tasting in one of the lounges:  five different kinds of martinis, including a chocolate one.  Sign us up!

On the day we boarded the ship, room service had called to say that someone had ordered a cheese plate for us and asked when they should deliver it.  We didn't even need to ask who had sent it.  We told them we'd call them when we were ready for it, but we had been so busy that we hadn't asked for it, yet.  This was the perfect time.  When the cheese plate came, all of the people in the lounge "oooooh'd" and "aaahhhhhh'd" over it.  There was an assortment of cheese, crackers, fruit, celery, carrots, and tapenade.  "Our travel agent sent this to us!" I told our fellow tasters.  "You've got a great travel agent!" they said.  I agreed!  It was too bad that I didn't have any of her business cards to distribute, for I believe I could've drummed up some new clients for her!

BTW, chocolate martinis are the stuff!

Sunday - New Orleans

One last breakfast aboard the ship, one last "Wake-y WAKE-Y!" and it was time to go.  We got our luggage, hailed a cab, and went to the Amtrak station.  It was way too early to board the train, so we decided to check our luggage and go exploring around New Orleans.  (Thanks to our liquor purchases, our suitcases were much heavier on the return trip, and we had to do some re-distributing of contents, right there in the middle of the train station, to get them all under the 50# weight limit.) 

We took a streetcar to the French Quarter and walked around a bit.  We sat on benches in Jackson Square, listening to the bells of St. Louis church and watching artists paint.  We had time for lunch on Bourbon Street before taking another taxi back to the train station.

It was 10 p.m. when the train pulled into the station at Memphis.  It was almost 11 by the time we got our luggage, and midnight by the time we pulled into our driveway at home. 

This was a terrific trip, made even better because Pennie and Gus had joined us, but, geez, it was good to be home!

January 13, 2012 - Cozumel

The ship docked in Cozumel  around 8 this morning.  Since we had booked an excursion that would last most of the day, we went ashore right away to squeeze in one last shopping trip.

At 11 a.m., we climbed into a van and rode about 5 miles down the beach to Playa Mia for a “Mexican Cuisine” cooking class and beach party.  All of our excursions have been awesome, but this one might have been the most fun.

We made an appetizer (shrimp sope), a main course (grouper or chicken with tamarind sauce), and a dessert (caramelized plantains with chocolate-tequila sauce).  Luis, our cooking instructor, began the class by asking, “What is the first thing we should do before starting to cook?”  When we replied, “Wash our hands,” Luis shouted, “No!  Have a drink!”  He picked up a shot glass and tossed back a shot of tequila as his helpers began passing out margaritas, pina coladas, and rum punches.  THEN we washed our hands.

Since the dessert needed to chill, it was the first dish we made.  We sprinkled the plantains with sugar and cinnamon, browned them in butter, and added dark chocolate and tequila to the pan to make the sauce.  Luis showed us how to decorate our plates with chocolate sauce and sour cream and drag toothpicks through it to make pretty designs.  We wrote our names on our plates with chocolate sauce so we'd know whose was whose, then we sent our plates to the refrigerator.  "Salut!" Luis said.  "Time to start on the feeesh." 

We seared our fish (or chicken), sautéed some vegetables, made the sauce, and then wrapped the whole business in foil and sent it to the ovens to finish cooking.  Luis said we all did very well.  "Salut!"

The drinks kept coming.

           For the appetizer, Luis provided us with balls of dough which we mashed into small, thick discs using a tortilla press.  We cooked these little corn cakes on a griddle while we made filling to go into them, shrimp in tomato sauce spiced with chipotle paste.  When the corn cakes were done, we pinched the edges to make a rim to hold the filling, and then we spooned in the shrimp and sauce, garnished it with lettuce and sour cream, sprinkled it with grated cheese. 

          The drinks kept coming.

     

           I was peely roud of the way my sope turned out.  Salut! 
   
          We carried our plates upstairs to a sunny dining room.  After all those drinks, it is probably a miracle that we were able to navigate the steps.   Luis’ helpers put one last round of drinks on the table.  While we ate our sopes, Luis' helpers brought out our entrees and desserts.  Everything was delicious!  SAAAA-LUTE!!!!!

We are pretty confident that, despite all the saluting, we can recreate these dishes when we get home.

After the meal, we went outside to enjoy the beach.  The time passed too quickly, and before we knew it, it was time to get back in the van and return to the ship.  The four of us agreed that (1) this was the most fun excursion that we did, and (2) it was time for a nap.  

January 12 - Roatan

                “GOOOOOOD morning!  Wake-y WAKE-YYYYY!”

                This sing-song greeting booms through the breakfast buffet dining room every morning around 8 a.m., courtesy of a tall, slender Jamaican man in a dazzling white officer’s uniform.  He has a shiny bald head, and a dazzling white smile to match his uniform.  The dining room staff chimes in as he walks through the dining room, repeating his greeting:

                “GOOOOOOD morning!”
                     “Gooooood morning!”
                “Wake-y WAKE-YYYYYYY!”
                     “Wake-y WAKE-YYYYYYY!”
                “GOOOOOOD morning!”
                     “Gooooood morning!”
                “Eggs and BAY-KEEE!”

                All the diners get a kick out of it.  I thank God I do not have to live with this man every day, for I would have to kill him for being so cheerful so early.

                This morning we are anchored off the coast of Roatan.   Unlike the other places we’ve visited, this island is mountainous.  It is beautiful.

           About 10:30, we rode a tender to the pier.   A Caribbean band and some dancers were performing at the end of the pier, and we stopped to watch them for a few minutes.

                The shopping area was small, and it did not take long for us to make our way through all the shops.  Joey and Gus headed straight for a Harley Davidson shop.  Pennie and I wandered into some other shops that sold jewelry and clothing and other tourist crap, and we eventually lost track of the guys.  We decided to stop at a corner restaurant, thinking that they’d walk by, sooner or later.  Sure enough, they did.  We had snacks – salsa and chips, quesadillas, tacos, and frozen drinks.  (I think I like the food better at my old stand-by Mexican restaurant at home!)

Over lunch, Joey and Gus told us about a Zip-Line adventure they had discovered.  We decided to give it a whirl.  A guide led us down the street and up an alley, where he turned us over to some locals who helped Joey, Pennie, and Gus into zip-line harnesses.  (I was grouchy and had a headache, and I opted not to zip.  Besides, somebody had to stay and guard our bags and cameras.)  We all climbed into the back of an enormous old 4-wheel drive pickup truck and were driven up an impossibly steep hill.  At the top, the driver told the zippers to get out and told me that I could walk back down the hill or ride down it in the truck.  I opted to ride, of course.  The ride back down the hill was scary enough that I was glad I hadn’t tried the zip-line!

At the bottom of the hill, I waited on a bench under a thatched hut.  I was sitting there, admiring the flowers and the greenery, listen to the locals talk in some language that I did not recognize, when I heard a strange voice say, “Hola!”  I looked over my shoulder, and there on the back of the bench sat a green parrot.  He said "Hola!" again and started doing wolf-whistles.  (I thought parrots only spoke English!)  ;)

          While I was admiring the parrot, I  heard a whirring noise and looked up in time to see one of the guides zipping across the sky and landing on a platform high in a tree. I grabbed the camera and began to shoot video as Pennie appeared.  She landed on the platform next to the guide.  More whirring noises, and there came Gus and Joey.  Once everyone was in, the guide leapt off the platform, and zipped to another tree on my left.  Pennie, Gus, and Joey bailed off after him. 

Joey was doing antics in the air, letting go of the harness and throwing his arms back.  I told him he looked like a minnow on a hook! 

          They all said the zipping was GREAT!  I began to wish I'd done it, too.

          After the zip-line adventure, the owners sent us around to the back of his house, where monkeys, parrots, and toucans hopped around in large cages.  The guides took a few of the monkeys out and let us hold them. 

We had all bought Cokes from the small bar under the hut, and the monkeys recognized the bottles and tried desperately to get at them.   Gus poured a little bit of Coke into the lid of his bottle and let one of the monkeys drink from it.  When Gus raised the bottle to his mouth to take a drink of Coke, the monkey stuck his tongue between Gus’s lips and the mouth of the Coke bottle, trying to sneak a drink!  It kind of grossed Gus out, but I'm still laughing about it.  ;)

          My monkey meddled in my purse, looking for a treat, and then climbed on top of my head.
         
          We reluctantly returned the monkeys to their owners and started the walk back to the pier.  On the way, we spotted a straw market, and took a quick detour through it.  Once again, the salespeople mobbed us:  “T-shirts, only five dollar!”   We bought a few things, then continued on to the pier. 

          In front of one of the shops, we met a man from Memphis.  He had been in touch with his family back home and had learned that it is snowing in Memphis today.  Awwwww…we feel so bad for them.

We had to be back on the ship by 4:30.  We made a quick run through a liquor store (a 5^th of Patron tequila for $34.00 – can’t pass up THAT deal!), then headed toward the tender.

It’s about 6 p.m. now.  We’ve showered to wash off the monkey spit and the sweat, and in a few minutes, we’re going down to dinner.

          What a  fun day we’ve had!

January 11, 2012 - Day 4, Belize

Drained by the heat and the long bus rides, we called it a night early last night and retreated to our cabins to rest.  I picked up my book but fell asleep before finishing the next page.  At 5 a.m. this morning, I woke up, read a little, fell back to sleep, and woke up again at 6:30, hungry and in serious need of coffee.  I dressed and went upstairs to find coffee and a small bagel, intending to hold off on a full breakfast until my lazybones traveling companions rolled out of bed.  An hour later, Joey joined me as I sat on deck, sipping on my third cup of coffee.   He’d gone in a different door and hadn’t seen me, and he’d already eaten breakfast.  Pennie and Gus were stirring in their cabin, he said, and would be up for breakfast soon.  The three of them had planned a snorkeling excursion which was to last from noon until about 4:30. 

The port at Belize City is evidently not suited for cruise ships.  Looking out the window, we saw three other ships anchored some distance off the coast, with “tenders” ferrying passengers to and from Belize City.  Our ship took its place alongside them.  Since the snorkeling excursion boat would bring Pennie, Gus, and Joey straight back to the ship instead of dropping them off at the pier in Belize City (where they were to board the excursion boat), we decided that the four of us would go into the city early so that we could shop and sight-see before they went snorkeling.  We rode the tender over to the city about 10 a.m.

With four ships in port, the tourist shops, lining a strip about 4 blocks long, were crawling with people.  We dutifully fell in line with the rest of the tourists, moving from store to store, seeing the same cheap crap in every one of them.  When we reached the end of the tourist trap, we turned around and started back, looking for a place to get out of the sun, eat a snack, and drink something cool.  Only a few steps away, we saw a place called “The Wet Lizard” on the second story of a building.  We climbed the steps, ordered chips and salsa and tea.  From that vantage point, I spotted a shopping area that we had not seen from street level.  My eyes lit up at the sight of a sign that read, “Craft Market.”  The snorkelers would not have time to explore it, but I would. 

After we finished resting, I walked the three of them to their excursion gathering point and began trying to figure out how to get to the back-street market I’d seen from above.  A security guard directed me to a back door which opened onto a fenced parking lot.  There was a gate in the fence, and another security guard standing near it.  He pointed to the left when I asked him how to get to the craft market.

The instant I stepped beyond the gate, I was nearly assaulted by the smell of horse poop and people wanting to braid my hair, paint my toenails, massage my feet, or sell me something.  I waved off most of them, but two aggressive women followed me down the street, one on each side of me, telling me how they could fix me up with braids and beads and manicures in as little as 10 minutes.  I finally shook them off about two blocks later, at which point other “sales people” took their places.  The booths in the craft market were disappointing; they sold essentially the same items I could have bought on the main drag.  “How about a necklace [or fresh coconut milk, or a drum], pretty lady?” they shouted, beckoning me toward them with hand gestures.  I sped up and hurried up the street, looking for the nearest gate that would let me back into the “tourist trap.”  A tender back to the ship was just about to depart as I emerged from the back streets.  I hurried toward it and climbed aboard.

At 4:30, I went to a craft demonstration on making travel journals.  The lady sitting next to me was from Germantown, and we had a good time talking about our travels.

When I got back to the cabin after the craft demo, the snorkelers had returned, all three of them as pink as lobsters and grinning from ear to ear.  Apparently, the snorkeling expedition was awesome.  After the snorkeling, they went to an island for a beach party/cookout.   You’ll have to wait for pictures of the snorkeling adventure until the underwater camera film gets developed.

January 10, 2012 - Day 3, Costa Maya

Today was our first day in port, Costa Maya.  On today’s agenda:  an excursion to Kohunalich Mayan ruins, scheduled to leave at 10:30 a.m.  There were other excursions to other ruins, but we chose the Kohunalich ruins thinking that the 2-hour drive into the interior might allow us to really see what the area was like. 

Our tour guide, Alejandro, was funny and knowledgeable about both the Costa Maya area and the Mayan culture.  I was amazed by some of the housing structures we passed along the road.  Many, many of the houses had thatched roofs made of palm fronds.  Some of the houses even had exterior walls  made of palm fronds.  With doors and windows open to catch the breezes, we could see straight into some of the houses.  I was surprised at the sparse furnishings.  Many of the houses had hammocks instead of beds, which Alejandro said the Mayans considered more comfortable and safer against “predators,” like snakes and lizards and such.  There were animals in the yards – goats, chickens, turkeys, cows.  We saw poinsettias, datura, bouganvilla, sunflowers, and other flowers I did not recognize.  We saw sugar cane, and coconut palms, and banana trees. 

We spent about 2 hours wandering around the ancient ruins (400-600 A.D.), which were disentangled from jungle growth in the 1960s.  Clearly, the structures had been burned by the Conquistadors, but traces of their former splendor remained in fragments of colorful paint on the walls and smooth-as-tile stucco on the floors.  Alejandro said that Mayan civilization had been divided into distinct classes, and that the ruling class – the king, the priests, and the architects, astronomers, mathematicians, and shamans - had lived in the stone structures, while the lower classes (tradesmen, hunters, farmers) had lived in palm-frond huts similar to those we had seen along the roadside.  Alejandro said that the only difference between today’s palm frond houses and those of 600 A.D. are the satellite dishes on the modern ones.

The stone structures were situated in squares around courtyards and plazas, grassy areas (now) which were once paved with stones.  From the top of one building, at sunset on April 12 of every year, a shaft of light would make its way across a courtyard and climb some stellae at a building on the opposite side of the courtyard.  The light would continue up the face of the building and shine through a small square window and hit an interior wall.  Alejandro was not sure why this was designed to occur on April 12 – that is, he was not sure of the significance of the date – but noted that at other ruins, similar phenomena occur on other dates (such as equinoxes and solstices), proving that the Mayans were masters of astronomy at a time when Europe was in the Dark Ages.

Near the end of the tour, we climbed a tall hill to a ceremonial temple, decorated with ancient carved masks made of terra cotta over stone.

From atop the temple steps, the view was amazing. We heard a strange call from among the trees. Alejandro said it was a toucan. When I asked him to call it over so I could take its picture, he looked a little surprised, then yelled,“Heeeeeere, tou-key, tou-key, tou-key.” It didn’t work. :-\

According to Alejandro, we should not believe the rumor that the Mayans simply “disappeared.” He said that the Mayans had simply assimilated into other cultures, but continued to exist. Various dialects of the Mayan language are still spoken here.

The bus delivered us back to the pier a little after 5 p.m.; since the ship sailed at 5:30, we were encouraged to “hoof it” to get back on board on time. But this morning, as we passed the tourist shops, Pennie had seen a tote bag that she wanted, and she wanted a shot glass from Costa Maya to add to her collection, and hadn’t had time to get them before we boarded the bus to begin the excursion. Thus, as the bus neared the drop-off point, Pennie eased her way to the front of the bus so that she could be among the first to get off. We figured that she should easily be able to run ahead and finish her shopping by the time our elderly, cane-wielding bus companions made it to the pier, and we were right; she fell into step alongside us, shopping bags in hand, as we passed by the shops.

Back on the ship, we were tired, hot, smelly, and hungry, so after a quick freshening-up, we went in search of food. We could not agree on what we wanted, and wound up sampling the buffet and then ordering a pizza delivered up to the top deck.

It’s been a great day.

January 9, 2012 - Day 2, At Sea

Today was our first “at sea” day.

I love, love, LOVE eating breakfast on the deck of a ship.  I love the wind, the sound of the waves, the reggae music pumping through the speaker system.  We had breakfast from the buffet and continued to sit on the deck for a while, trying to decide what to do with our time.

When a ship is out to sea, the on-board shops open.  We took a little time to stroll through the jewelry , perfume, and souvenir stores. 

Joey’s sister, Pennie, had said that she intended to spend the day laying in the sun on the deck, and so when we finished looking through the shops, she went back to their cabin to put on her bathing suit.  I am not much for sunning, but Joey is, and so I went back to our cabin, got my book, and joined them on the deck (though I tucked myself back into a shady area, knowing that I’d sunburn in nothing flat).  We had lunch at the snack bar on deck, then I went back to the cabin, stretched out across the bed for a minute…

…and woke up two hours later.

At 4 p.m., I went to a short origami class and learned to make a box out of paper.  Yippeee!  ;)

We had an early dinner in the main dining room, then caught the “Broadway” show in the ship theatre.  After that, we went up to the top deck to watch the LSU-Alabama football game.  When the game was over, we peeked in on a 50’s “sock hop” in one of the lounges.  Pennie & Gus called it a night, but Joey and I went to another lounge for a little salsa dancing.  Called it a night around midnight. 

When we returned to our room, we found that our steward had made us a towel animal.  Apparently, the outcome of the LSU-‘Bama game influenced his design choice.

Roll Tide Roll!  J

January 8, 2012 - Bon Voyage

Our travel documents said that our ship, the Norwegian Spirit, would begin boarding at 12 p.m. and would sail at 5.  We ate the hotel’s continental breakfast (not much to write home about, really – powdered eggs, slippery gravy, and bland sausage, but the biscuits weren’t bad).  The checkout time was 11 a.m.  I suppose we could have asked the hotel to store our bags for a while and could have gone into New Orleans to do some sightseeing, but we opted, instead, to go on and check in at the ship.

We called for a cab.  We told them we had a party of 4 and that we would be going to the port.  One might have expected that the cab company would have sent a vehicle capable of comfortably transporting 4 people and their luggage, but the cab that came for us was an old Ford Crown Victoria that already had some junk in its trunk.  The cab driver piled our luggage into the trunk, then couldn’t get the lid shut.  He tied the lid down with a piece of cord and told us to get in.  The weight of our luggage, combined with our the weight of our butts, combined with worn-out shocks, caused the car to scrape the pavement every time it bounced.  Scrunch, scrunch, scruuuunch, all the way to the port.

Shipline personnel were waiting at the curb to take our luggage, and we went inside to check in.  The process took about an hour.  Finally, around 1 p.m., we boarded the ship.  We went immediately to our rooms, dropped off our purses, camera bags, etc., and went exploring.  Up on Deck 12, the buffet was already in full swing.  We grabbed plates and helped ourselves.  When we finished eating, we walked around to explore the ship.

The sail-away party started at 4:15.  Lots of music and dancing.  There was more food, but we held off on eating for a while to give our drinks time to soak in.  Finally, about 5, the ship started to move.  The captain greeted us over the loud speakers.  We were surprised to learn that New Orleans is 100 nautical miles from the Gulf of Mexico; we would reach the Gulf some time around 11 p.m. 

The speed with which our moods improved when the ship started to move was amazing.  The breeze and the gentle rocking, combined with the music and the party atmosphere around us, brought smiles to our faces.  The tall, fruity drinks might have had something to do with it, too.  ;)

We ate a light supper and then went in search of entertainment.  There was a “free liquor tasting” in the main lobby, which we could not pass up.  Afterwards, we went into one of the lounges to listen to a small orchestra that played songs like “Moon River” and “Hello, Dolly.”  When they left the stage, another band took their place; this one played a variety of music – everything from Beatles tunes to Motown.  About 10:30 p.m., that same band transformed itself into a disco band, and one of the ship entertainment staff taught the crowd some dance moves. 

Finally, around 11:30 p.m., we headed back to our cabin.  On the way, Joel said, “I need a snack!”  We stopped by the casino for finger sandwiches, fruit, and cheese cubes, which we took back to our rooms.  It was “lights out” for us about 12:30. 

Sleeping aboard a ship is great, if you don’t mind the motion.  We don’t mind it at all!

Cruise - January 2012 - Memphis to New Orleans

Saturday, January 7, 2012

Greetings from N.O.L.A.

We boarded the City of New Orleans train in Memphis, bound for New Orleans, about 8 a.m. this morning.   This was the first problem, since we were supposed to have departed Memphis at 6:50 a.m.  Still, our spirits were high.  The Amtrak personnel had been friendly and courteous, our wait had been pleasant, and we were excited about our getting to our eventual destination, a cruise ship to Mexico.    

My husband’s sister and  brother-in-law are with us, and we four are planning to have a terrific week.

We travelled in the coach section, which we had not done before.  The seats were comfortable, with lots of leg room, and there was plenty of overhead storage for our belongings.   The stewards were friendly, and the general atmosphere was one of excited anticipation, since many of the passengers were traveling to New Orleans to attend football games .  (The Saints were to play the Lions on Saturday night, and the LSU Tigers take on Alabama come Monday.  Judging from the color of their jerseys, most of the football fans on our train were Alabama fans.) 

There was a change of stewards at our first stop in Greeneville, Mississippi.   The pleasant-looking lady steward departed, and in her place came a handsome, well-muscled man who, evidently, had been a Marine drill sergeant in a not-so-distant life.  Soon after departing Greeneville, he made this announcement over the train speaker system:

Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please.  Welcome aboard the City of New Orleans.  We’d like to remind you that we are not here to clean up after you.  If you use the bathroom facilities, and you choose the “squat and aim” method, please use the paper seat covers provided for you.  If you cannot refrain from spraying everything in the bathroom, we would prefer that you remain in your seat and defecate on yourself so that you sit in your own feces from here to New Orleans.  Thank you very much.

OMG...What???

The Amtrak station in New Orleans is very close to the Superdome, where the football action was to begin within a couple of hours.  Already, fans were milling around outside the stadium, setting up their tailgate parties for the Saints came.  Banners declaring “Roll Tide Roll” could be seen hanging here and there in anticipation of Monday’s game.  On the platform, one Alabama fan stumbled and fell, scattering her belongings across the concrete.  Back in Memphis, my brother-in-law had struck up a conversation with this lady, having recognized her as a former schoolmate.  When he saw her fall, he stopped to help her.  She hadn’t simply tripped; she was staggering drunk.  He helped her up and helped her gather her belongings.  Meanwhile, the incident had caught the attention of a policeman standing nearby.  He and my brother-in-law helped the lady to a seat near the station entrance.  The policeman quickly assessed the problem and offered my brother-in-law two choices:  (1) take “custody” of this lady, or (2) the lady could go to jail until Wednesday.  My brother-in-law agreed to help get the lady to her hotel.   We got the lady inside the terminal, at which point she realized that she had left her purse and a tote bag aboard the train.  We wanted to go back and search the train, but the Amtrak employees would not let us, since the train had to be moved so that another could take its place on the platform.  Fortunately, just moments later, someone told us that some things had been turned in to “lost and found,” and when the lady checked, some of the items were the ones she was missing.  We helped her gather everything, then accompanied her out to the sidewalk to hail a taxi. 

With that done, it was time to get a taxi for ourselves.  A large SUV taxi pulled up, and the driver, a lady from Haiti, agreed to take us to our hotel in Gretna.  We loaded our bags and set off.  Traffic near the Superdome was a nightmare.   The driver, who spoke English with a very thick accent, misunderstood our instructions and took us to the wrong hotel, despite the fact that two of us had maps to the hotel pulled up on our cell phones.

Finally, at about 7 p.m., we arrived at the correct hotel.  We tossed our bags in our rooms and set out in search of dinner.  Another taxi ride, this time with a local driver who had a delightful “Cajun” accent.  We ate at “New Orleans Food and Spirits.”  The food was good.  The spirits were terrific!   Another taxi ride (with another Haitian driver), and we were back in our rooms, happy and full, and ready to hit the sack.