Impersonating a Cruise Passenger

Yah, that's us.  Jerry took one look at this picture and said, "That's not us.  We weren't standing in front of the boat."

"It's photo-shopped!" I said.

He took another look.

"The ship is way out of scale."

Life with a (literal) scientist.

So, we're back from our trip to Costa Rica and Panama,  have been for two weeks, during which I dealt with taxes (federal and property, awful), renewing my driver's license, and celebrating my 65th birthday--if you haven't done this, let me tell you it is traumatic.  Also, filling out my retirement papers.

Back to the photo.  We were stopped just after we boarded, mid-sprint to the laundry room with a week's worth of dirty clothes, cranky and tired.  I won't say our smiles were photo-shopped, but they were definitely on command.  Later, we saw the photo and bought it for $25, which Jerry thought was nuts.

But our entire approach to cruises is nuts.  This was our third cruise, and once again, we shied away from being social and ate only with each other, often in our stateroom.  During the days at sea, when other passengers threw themselves on chaises in the full-blast tropical sun, we were in our room working on projects.  We didn't gamble or play bridge or bid at an art auction or go to workshops on how to avoid wrinkles (no full-blast tropical sun?).

 The afternoon tea cart.  We did participate in that.

I cannot lie: the food was good

For us,  the ship was a way to get from Point A (Calderas, Costa Rica, after a week of independent travel) to Point B (Miami) and go through the Panama Canal (I recommend), while having really nice meals served to us.

Otherwise, it was boring, and it felt like high school, except it's rich Texas ladies, not mean girls, who checked me out from head to toe. Dubiously.  (Yes, this happened, and I am way too old for it.)  

Of course, there were lots of other people, perfectly nice, but every time I dipped into conversation with a random person, I felt I was from another world.

First question in any shipboard conversation:  "Where are you from?"


Twice my answer stopped the conversation cold.  One of the Texas ladies looked at her shoes, at a loss for words.

So, we came home and cancelled our trip to Europe in August, half of which involved a Baltic cruise.  There were other reasons for cancelling it, financial ones, but the strain of impersonating a cruise passenger figured into it.

Lots of reading and napping

By the time we got to New Orleans, I was delirious to see people in a museum café dressed in an off-hand, interesting way.  No resort clothes!   I spied a New York Times on a table and rushed to read it, even though it was three days old.










 It was a good trip, though, with some truly memorable moments:

 

Hiking in Costa Rica

Touring the Biomuseo in Panama City, designed by Frank Gehry

Transiting the Panama Canal

All fun!  More on those.

But the strain of impersonating a cruise passenger--meaning, delighted to be hanging out in a sea-bound resort, complacent about the luxury, wanting to small-talk with strangers--it's too much for this old Berkeley bag.

Will I ever learn?