OK, So Maybe Carnival Isn’t As Bad As I Thought – So Sue Me

When it comes to cruising, my wife and I have a working arrangement – she books the cruises and I pay for them. From among all of the cruise lines, she has shown a predilection for Princess as that is all we have sailed on over the past years – along with a cruise or two with HAL, NCL, RCL, and Celebrity. We have assiduously avoided Carnival. That is, however, until SailorJill came into the TV room five weeks ago and announced that she had just booked a 7 day Mexican cruise on Carnival. Completely stunned, I had quickly turned the TV to the weather channel to see if, in fact, Hell had just frozen over. (It hadn’t.)

The ship she had booked us on was something called the Miracle, and any faint glimmer of hope I might have held vanished after a search of the internet revealed that the ship had nothing to do with Smoky Robinson. Not only that, but there was no time to shop around as it was a non-refundable fare as it had been booked at the last minute. As they are prone to say in the Legal/Psychiatric world – my wife had just had me committed. After quickly running through the first 6 stages of grief, I reached Acceptance. How bad can it be, I thought, its only 7 days and last I heard there was no shortage of Dos Equis in Mexico.

However, in preparing for our upcoming cruise, I was confronted with two unexpected developments. The first occurred when SailorJill suggested that perhaps her mother could accompany us on our cruise. Somewhat taken aback, I pointed out that our room would only accommodate two people. Jill, to my compete surprise, agreed completely and dropped the subject. As she never, ever, concedes a point that easily I was now looking over my shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The second development, and by far the more serious, was the jury notification letter I received. Never one to shirk my civic duty, I was now faced with the very real prospect of missing our cruise to Mexico. However, SailorJill, who was pre-law at Southern Illinois University, said not to worry. “You can get excused from jury duty during “voir dire.” That is the process, she explained, when you are asked if there is any reason you cannot serve. “Simply tell them you need to be “sequestered” – which means excused due to prior commitments.”

On the appointed day, I presented myself at the courthouse as scheduled and approached the court bailiff. My request to be sequestered, however, was met by a great deal of amusement from the assembled personage. It turns out that “sequestered” has an entirely different meaning - and either SailorJill had her terminology confused, or, as I had begun to suspect, she hadn’t entirely given up on sailing with her mother. As it was, I only had to serve one day and was excused.

Day 1 – (Long Beach, CA)

One of the reasons I have avoided Carnival is, well, as ageist as it may sound, due to its demographics. As the old saying goes, those that cruise are either the newlywed or the nearly dead. And while I am clearly nearer the latter than the former, as I was preparing to board the ship it became obvious that most of my fellow passengers were in the former. It didn’t take me long to realize that the toothbrush in my travel bag was older than half the people in line ahead of me. And the clothing! Tight shorts, scooped-neck T-shirts, and tattoos galore. And apparently that was just the crew! And from the sound of it, the flip-flop industry in America is doing well. Now I don’t mind the constant slap, slap, slapping of the sandals – they remind me of our nightly battle with mosquitoes on our African safari – but I do have a thing about tattoos.

Several years ago our eldest daughter, Alexis (we named her that because if we hadn’t had her we could be driving one) approached me as I was watching the Dallas Cowboys on my 60 inch wide screen TV:

Alexis: “Dad, I want to get a tattoo.”

SailorJack: “Ask your mother.”

Alexis: “She said to ask you.”

SailorJack: “No.”

Alexis: “Why not!”

SailorJack: Because you will lose interest and your mother and I will wind up having to take care of it.”

Alexis (after a poignant pause): “I said I wanted a Tattoo – not a Cockatoo!”

Mercedes (our youngest daughter): “If she gets one I get one too!”

Well, to make a long story short, both of our daughters are now quite eligible to cruise on Carnival.

But I digress.

During the boarding process I was confronted by a very officious official who was apparently a member of the Water Police:

Water Policeperson: “ I am sorry, sir, you cannot bring that water aboard the ship.”

SailorJack: “But it is very special water – it comes from an ancient fountain high in the forested hills above Ephesus.”

WP: “I’m sorry, but you are going to have to leave it ashore.”

SJ: “If I drink it here can I get aboard the ship.”

WP: “Of course.”

Now I understood! It’s not the water! Carnival doesn’t like the plastic containers! I can bring the water aboard as long as I drink it first.

WP: “Sir, it is not the plastic container, it is the possibility that it contains Vodka.”

SJ (Somewhat offended): “Sir, do I look like the type of person who could drink two liters of Vodka on a 7 day cruise!”

WP (Condescendingly): “Of course not, sir. In your case it would most likely be Gin.” (He didn’t actually say that last part, but I could tell he was thinking it).

Needless to say, my water stayed ashore as did SailorJill’s diet Coke (it contained the forbidden water). After bidding a lingering farewell to our cherished refreshments, we were allowed to board the ship, endure the primeval rush to the elevators, and make our way to our stateroom.

As this year was a special anniversary, I had reluctantly placed my Scottish heritage in abeyance and had (unbeknownst to SailorJill) upgraded our reservation to a suite for this cruise. It will be the first time we have ever sailed in a suite and I was hoping that this gesture would atone for an apparent earlier miscue. Several months ago, in asking SailorJill what she would like on our anniversary she had replied that “sharing a romantic B&B would be fun.” I, of course, was delighted as her request reaffirmed my belief that two people who share years together grow to become as one – sharing a common appreciation for the finer things in life.

So, in the ensuing weeks I had taken great care to ensure that our anniversary was, indeed, special. So come the morning of our anniversary, you can understand that I was somewhat confused when she inquired as to where I had made reservations. "Reservations?" Momentarily deferring an answer to her question, I had enthusiastically presented to her (appropriately gift wrapped, mind you) her anniversary gift - a very special collection of assorted imported German hand-crafted ales and a very alluring two piece swim suit. However, after considering my gifts for a few moments, SailorJill turned to me: “Jack, B&B does not stand for Beer and a Bikini!” Apparently, we hadn’t yet fully become as one and I had misread her request. Thus the suite – a seagoing Bed and Breakfast, if you will.

Day 1 (Continued)

For dinner tonight we went to the main dining room and incurred the second of the amazing surprises that we encountered aboard the Miracle. It may surprise you (as it certainly did us) to realize that Carnival had apparently outsourced the design and decor of the dining room to the Napa-Sonoma Wine Growers Association. I mean there were bunches of grapes everywhere you looked – on the ceiling, clinging to the support pillars, and intertwined amongst the railings and seat backs. And I am not talking small little bunches – they were more akin to Moby Grape. The official name for the Main Dining Room is “Bacchus,” who apparently was the Roman God of Purple. I have never seen so much purple since, well, let’s face it – never. It’s like they took the roof off the dining room in the middle of a purple rainstorm. Now I am not saying it didn’t have a certain charm – it just took some getting used to.

All that said, the dinner and the service was outstanding. And, although I am getting a little ahead of myself here, I can positively state that the service and meals we experienced aboard the Miracle was among the best we have ever experienced.

Day 2 ( At Sea)

Our first day at sea and the day is fabulous so SailorJill and I went up to Serenity, the adults only area on Lido deck. Climbing into a clamshell recliner built for two, we relaxed in the morning sun and enjoyed reading a good book. However, as our meet and greet was scheduled for 12:00 at the Red Frog Pub we reluctantly gave up our lounge and went back to our room around 11:00 to shower and dress. SailorJill was wearing a hip-hugging flouncy rainbow colored miniskirt, a matching senorita crop top, and 5 inch red stiletto heeled sandals. She topped it off with a little palm tree navel piercing, matching earrings and a red rose in her jet black hair. No, Wait! That’s actually my new screen saver! Sorry. Actually, Jill is wearing shorts and her “Men are Idiots and My Husband is their Leader” T-shirt – a gift from her mother on the occasion of our sixth wedding anniversary. After putting on shorts, a T-shirt and a pair of Topsiders we were ready to meet our fellow travelers.

One of the delightful ladies we had the opportunity to visit with was from Arizona (Official Motto: Arizona - We Put the AZ in Crazy). We were pleased to hear from her that Arizona was no longer a territory, but during our conversation she let slip that the official state tree of Arizona was something called the Palo Verde – which apparently is Spanish for “Green Stick.” The state tree of Arizona is a Green Stick? I couldn’t help wondering if the official state vegetable was the Green Bean. Being in the middle of the Sonoran Desert, I understand that green is an important and cherished color, but really, Green Stick! I think that goes a long way in explaining the origin of their official motto!

On the other hand, I carry my own baggage. I am often loathe to say where I am from because as soon as I say “British Columbia” I am met with not so well concealed looks of sympathy. There is something about the name “British Columbia” that conjures up an image of some small postage stamp sized country carved out of the jungle in South America – with a lonely, tattered Union Jack fluttering from a dead banana tree (which is not our official tree!). After being complimented on my grasp of the English language, ability to use a fork and a knife, and how to hold a wine glass correctly, I am forced to add that British Columbia is a province in Canada – the first one on the left, actually.

Day 2 (Continued)

Tonight was lobster night – which brought back rather uncomfortable memories of my first date with SailorJill (actually she was just Jill back then). Wanting to make a great impression I had suggested a restaurant that was a little out of my college student budget, but I really wanted to impress this girl! Seated at the restaurant table we were presented with a menu upon which read, among other things (mostly in French), “Lobster Tail –Market Price.” New to the lobster-for-dinner game, I suspected that “Market Price” was restaurantese for “we dare you to ask what the price is in front of your date!”

Nevertheless, I inquired as to the price and was informed that the two pound lobster was $42. And, over Jill’s objection that this was far too expensive, I ordered two lobster plates and mentally wondered where I could get a second job. Our dinner, however, was delightful and we spent several wonderful hours in conversation until Jill went to the powder room and the bill came:

SailorJack: "Excuse me, but there seems to be a mistake here."

Waitress: " Yes sir?"

SailorJack: "You said market price was $21 a pound - or $42 dollars for the two pound lobster

plate, but the bill works out to $25 a pound."

Waitress: "Yes sir, the market price I quoted at 7:00 was $21, but when you ordered at 7:30 it

had gone up to $25."

SailorJack: "But, but, $25 a pound is more per pound than I paid for my car! ( A used 1971

Gremlin, if you must know.)"

Waitress (incredulously): " You drive a Gremlin and you came to this restaurant?"

As Jill was coming back to the table, I gave my credit card (and my life savings) to the waitress and prayed that there was enough gas in the car to get home. (Our next date, by the way, was at Taco Bell – I got an employee discount.)

I have since come to believe that there is a brazen criminal syndicate – similar to drug cartels – that controls the supply and price of this six legged saltwater seabed crawler. Why else would they be so expensive! My proof of the existence of this brazen criminal group? My first hint was the inside joke they play on us. Just take a look at the first letter in the word “Lobster.” Replace the “L” with the next letter up in the alphabet and what do you get – “Mobster!” How brazen can you get! And they say crime doesn’t pay.

But I digress once again.

Anyway, as most of us can’t afford lobster at home, statistics reveal that 99.76 percent of people on a cruise order lobster on lobster night. So what did we order tonight – lobster, of course – we are addicted.

At least I thought I had ordered lobster:

SailorJack: "Excuse me, but I ordered the lobster plate."

Waiter: "Yes, sir?"

SailorJack: "But where is my lobster?"

Waiter: "I believe that's it under the lettuce leaf, sir."

Day 3 (Cabo San Lucas, Mexico)

We have arrived at our first port of call – Cabo San Lucas in the Mexican state of Baja California. Once a small fishing village, it has grown to become one of Baja California’s premier fishing, water sports and whale watching locations. It is now rated as one of the top five tourist destinations in Mexico.

Our tour today included a stop at the beach to do something called “snorkeling.” The word apparently comes from the German words “gesnörk” - which roughly translates as “desperately try to suck air” and “ëling” – meaning “good luck”

The idea, apparently, is for you to float on top of the water with a plastic tube in your mouth and try not to breathe when the plastic tube dips below the surface of the ocean. The concept may have originated from the ancient witch trials in Salem, Massachusetts where they threw suspected witches into the water to see they could float and breathe. Anyway, the modern snorkeling industry has come up with a complete set of equipment designed to keep you alive until the warranties run out:

Flippers. These are long floppy contraptions which are attached to your feet. They are designed to propel you faster once you get in the water – assuming you can actually make it down to the water. While I was told that these would help me swim, I think that they were actually designed as entertainment for the people on the beach. The flippers closely resemble oversized clown shoes and you cannot walk in them without tripping over them and falling down every other step – whence cometh the name – flipper. On the other hand, they could also be a cleverly designed safety device because if you put them on while you are far enough up the beach you probably could never make it down to the water. Experienced flipper wearers, however, have learned to walk backwards while sliding their feet when wearing their flippers. In retrospect, this is when it dawned on me that Michael Jackson must have been a snorkeler.

Red Vest. The vest, we are told, is a safety feature designed to alert ski boats as to our presence so that would not hit us and damage their propellers.

Mask. The mask is a two part device designed to fit over your face so that you can see better under water. Part one is a glass panel encased in rubber that fits over your head and face. Part two (and I swear I am not making this up) is….spit! That’s right – we can put a man on the moon but we cannot design a fog free mask without using human saliva. To keep the glass fog free you must spit into the mask and rub it all over the glass. I have no idea how this process works, but my best guess is that the bacteria in the saliva must eat up the little fog particles.

Snorkel. This, basically, is a plastic breathing tube that has been adapted from the medical profession, but, in this case, for use while you are actually conscious. I suspect that successful snorkelers practice deep breathing exercises for months before actually snorkeling as the process requires the lung capacity of a large bull elephant to actually suck down enough air to sustain life.

Mask/Snorkel Deterrence Factor. After donning the mask, the strap behind your head pulls it tightly onto the face – creating a vacuum that forces that part of your forehead above the mask to swell upward and causes the eyes to bulge out slightly. Then, once the mouthpiece of the snorkel is inserted into the mouth, it forces the cheeks to puff out and the lips to protrude outwards - much like that of a grouper. The combined effect bears an eerie countenance similar to the face of a Beluga whale – and apparently serves to deter assaults from barracuda, stingrays, and saltwater sponges. OK, I know that sponges hardly ever attack snorkelers, but you can never be too careful.

Bottom Line: Snorkelers in full gear are not a pretty sight. As I tried to make my way down the beach with flippers kicking up sand and mask and snorkel firmly in place, I noticed mothers frantically protecting their children by shielding their eyes from the approaching alien life form.

Oh, yes...we had a great time and I only fell three times walking backwards down the beach.

Day 4 – (Mazatlan, Mexico)

We have arrived in Mazatlan in the Mexican state of Sinaloa. Now where have I heard that word before? Oh yes, the Sinaloa drug cartel! This is why one of the concerns many visitors have when visiting Mazatlan is crime – an issue that led three cruise lines to momentarily stop calling at Mazatlan – but that was several years ago. However, any lingering concerns we might have had were laid to rest by comments from one of the many volunteers manning the tourist desks that are found in the city (and I swear I am not making this up):

“If you are not in the drug trade. If you are not buying drugs you don’t have to worry about the drug people. And, usually, when they shoot they hit what they are aiming at – which are other drug people…you rarely have drive-by shootings.”

Relieved that we wouldn’t inadvertently be caught in a cross fire from people who usually hit what they are aiming at, we set forth and follow the Blue Line into Mazatlan. I was, however, keeping my eye out for any T-shirts that read “Don’t shoot – We are not Drug People.”

Mazatlan is an amazing city. Founded in 1531, the historic district is a virtual paradise for fans of architecture. Nineteenth century landmarks include, amongst many others, the performance hall Teatro Ángela Peralta and the towering Immaculate Conception basilica.As we explored the town we stumbled upon the Mercado Pino Suarez. It is an amazing two-story market place that has existed in this spot for nearly 120 years and is a must stop for any visit to Mazatlan. It is said that if you cannot find what you want from any of the 350 vendors in the Mercado then it is not available anywhere in Mexico. SailorJill has accepted that challenge and she is looking to find a colorful blanket to use as a wall hanging for our den. As we strolled among the stalls we came upon one of the bigger stalls and Jill spotted a pile of rugs that were fairly expensive. I continued wandering around the stall and found a very colorful one that was quite obviously a second and, with my bargaining ability, I figured I could get it for a good price and surprise Jill with my shopping acumen:

Sailorjack: “How much is this blanket, please.”

Salesperson: “Ah, you have excellent taste, Señor. It is only 500 pesos.”

Sailorjack: “Isn’t that just a little bit expensive – given the fact that it has a hole in it?”

Salesperson: “But Señor , it is supposed to have the hole.”

Sailorjack: “ Why would you make a blanket with a hole!”

Salesperson: “You stick your head in it.”

Sailorjack: “And just why would anyone want to stick their head in a blanket.”

Salesperson: “Because, Señor, it is not a blanket – it is a serape.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but apparently “serape” is Spanish for “blanket with a hole.” But I had to admit, this guy was good – not only had he come up with a quick explanation for the hole in the blanket, but he actually doubled down: “Señor, let me show you a sombrero that will look so good with your blanket with a hole.” He then led me over to the back of the stall where he, with great pride, pointed to an entire shelf displaying what were (according to the large sign) SOMBREROS! Apparently, sombrero is Spanish for “hat that looks like a candy dish.”

Pulling one off the shelf he handed it to me. “Put on the sombrero and the blanket with the hole Señor and turn around to the mirror – look how dashing you look! A true Mexican Caballero if ever I have seen one! I had no idea what a Caballero was, but if it was Spanish for “big piñata” he had my look nailed!

About then, SailorJill comes around the corner, takes one look and says, “Jack, I’ll get you a guitar and you could join a Mariachi band.” I had no idea who this merry Archie guy was, but then many of her comments go over my head. Anyway, it was time to pay for our purchases and find a place for lunch.

For lunch we headed back to Plaza Machado, located in the heart of Mazatlan’s historic district. The tree lined plaza was the perfect place to enjoy lunch. It is surrounded by historic buildings, is home to a number of beautiful café’s, and is a great place to just relax and people watch. The restaurant we selected was located on the southern facing side and we were serenaded by a wonderful duo who sang traditional Spanish songs. Halfway through lunch, the proprietor approached us and asked if we would like a complementary sampling of their proprietary tequilas.

Not wishing to offend our host I politely accepted his invitation. Departing, he soon returned with four bottles of tequila. The most notable one was a one gallon jug with (and I swear I am not making this up!) a dead rattlesnake coiled up in the bottom. At least it appeared dead, but for all I knew it could just as easily have just been dead drunk. The tequila (and you had to know this was coming) had a real bite to it! Now to those who have bragged about having drunk mezcal with the maguey worm at the bottom, I have just one word - amateurs!

The other three tequilas included two that were flavored – one with almonds and one with coffee. They were absolutely stunning and we bought one of each.

After lunch we strolled over to the boardwalk that ran along the coast and marveled at all the monuments that honored various people and events in Mazatlan history. It was then that we came across a very tall structure that towered eight or nine stories over the waters below. Perched upon the top of the structure was a young boy in swim shorts. As I stood there, an older man started yelling, “My boy is about to dive.” He then turned to me and repeated, “My boy is about to dive!” For the life of me I had no idea as to why he was looking at me – I certainly wasn’t about to climb up there and get him.

“Your camera,” he yelled, “Get your camera ready.” I guess I was a little slow - he wasn’t asking for help, he wanted me to take a picture of the dive and to then give him a dollar. “Isn’t that a little dangerous” I asked. “It is very safe and besides he has insurance.” I wasn’t about ask if it was health or life insurance, but I offered him a dollar if he just had his son climb back down. I guess he was somewhat disappointed in me as he turned around to another couple and yelled “My son is about to dive!”

On that note, we reversed course and headed back to the ship. Overall, we had a great day in Mazatlan and I would be remiss if I did not note that at no time did we ever experience any concerns about exploring Mazatlan. It is a beautifully picturesque city and the people we met were friendly, welcoming, and extremely helpful. It is a great port on the Mexican Riviera.

Next stop – Puerto Vallarta.

Day 5 – ( Puerto Vallarta, Mexico)

We have arrived at our final port, Puerto Vallarta – located in the Mexican state of Jalisco. Prior to clearing us for debarking, our cruise director made the following announcement:

The United States Department of State has issued a travel advisory for Puerto Vallarta due to the high incidence of crime in the area – particularly in the early mornings and evenings. Guests are advised to stay within the recognized tourist areas, be cognizant of your surroundings and avoid eye contact with strangers. (OK, I made up the part about eye contact.) Enjoy your day in Puerto Vallarta!

While surprised at the announcement, we were not overly concerned as we had no plans to leave the recognized tourist areas. In fact, SailorJill has signed us up for a Salsa class. Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that I was not a total success at our Tango class in Buenos Aires, but I did develop a certain affection for Latin music. And, while I would not admit it to SailorJill, I was kind of looking forward to learning a few more Latin dance moves.

At least that was my thinking aboard the Miracle. However, I am now standing in a kitchen with thirteen women and wearing a red apron embroidered with a funny looking vegetable called a jalapeño. SailorJill, it turns out, didn’t sign us up for a Salsa dance class – she signed us up for a Salsa cooking class. Salsa, as I was soon to learn, turns out be Spanish for “burning pain.” (But I am getting ahead of myself.) I am not afraid to admit that I am totally out of my element in a kitchen. It’s not that I am not completely unfamiliar with a kitchen (that’s the room where we keep the beer), but I have never before taken stuff from a pantry and turned it into actual food. Nor have I ever worn an apron; and I am the only person in the room with a Y chromosome. Still, somewhat secure in my own masculinity, I put on my little puffy paper chef hat with my name penciled on the side and take my place behind a little table.

Spread out on the table before me are a variety of Salsa ingredients – chili peppers, jalapeño peppers, bell peppers, and cayenne pepper. Note the repetitive use of the word “pepper.” (In literary circles this is known as “foreshadowing” where the author hints at future dire consequences.) Also on the table are several other mouth puckering items - garlic, onions, and limes. The only innocuous items appear to be tomatoes and something called cilantro – which looks alarmingly like some of the weeds growing in my back yard.

My first task was to slice up the jalapeños and onions. Now for those of you have never been required to cut up onions before, be warned that they apparently contain microscopic organisms known as “ions.” These ions appear to be lighter than air, and once released from the onion rise up and can actually land on your eye. In retrospect, that is probably why they call them “ions.” These ions, in turn, cause the eyes to water and the vision to blur. Caution: Do not try to wipe away the tears after you have also been slicing jalapeños! BURNING PAIN! I was assured by several well wishers that my vision would soon return, but I think that it was during this period of recovery that I missed critical information regarding the use of the jalapeño .

Now, while the aforementioned cilantro initially appeared innocuous, I was instructed to tightly pack the leaves, roll them up and then, with a very sharp knife, cut them into very thin strips. This process, I was informed, was called “chiffonade” a French word meaning “little ribbons” which was a good description of the tips of my fingers by the time I was finished.

Once we had completed making our salsa it came time to try to actually eat it. Before I continue, let me provide a few useful Spanish phrases that come in handy when preparing and eating salsa: “Aqua por favor,” ”Mas aqua por favor,” and, at least in my case, “Donde esta el doctor.” This last phrase became necessary after I lost my vision and also because I missed the part about not putting the jalapeño seeds into the salsa. As it turns out, jalapeño seeds contain something called scovilles (apparently named after the Marquis de Scoville - a distant relative of Marquis de Sade) and you are supposed to scoop the seeds out and set them aside. They can then later be used to spread around the perimeter of your house to repel unwanted pests – like ants, termites and magazine salespeople.

Anyway, after making the red salsa, we made several other types including a green salsa and a dessert salsa. Then, just when I thought that I would be making it safely out of the kitchen our instructor introduced us to what she called “the heat and spice of pico de gallo.” It contained a substance whose name should never, ever, even be whispered in the presence of children, the timid or the faint of heart. A word that even today – weeks after my work as a salsa chef – brings weakness to my knees and a cold sweat to my brow – habanero!

After the class we headed to the world famous Malecon to stroll along the beach. Now in English we have what are known as “homographs.” These are words that are spelled the same and are pronounced the same, but have different meanings. For instance, take the word “lead.” It can either refer to a type of metal or to an action (he lead the parade). Well Spanish has exactly the same thing – who knew? Take the aforementioned Malecon. Apparently it can mean either “Boardwalk with 1,000 T-shirt shops,” or “Promenade of cheap liquor.”

As we strolled along the Malecon, I cannot recount the number of times that someone called out “Hey, you - the good looking guy, we have $1 margaritas here.” or “Handsome Canadian dude, we have T-shirts 3 for $10.” Well, maybe they didn’t use those exact words, but you get the idea. While the boardwalk was, indeed, very picturesque, it was highly commercialized. But along the boardwalk are beautiful beaches, interesting shops and a number of public pieces of statuary. Also highly interesting are the pieces of human statuary. When standing in front of one and admiring the detail, you are surprised when it starts to move and extends a hand out for a contribution for the picture you have just taken. Be sure to look for what first appeared to be an incredible statue of two men sitting at a card table!

Day 6 – (at Sea)

We spent the morning playing trivia and doing a little window shopping in the stores. We then decided to take an early lunch so we could attend the magic show in the Mad Hatter’s Ballroom. Passing through the photo shop on the way to Horatio’s I was startled to see my picture on one of the display racks. It was the one that was taken when I got off the ship in Mazatlan where I posed with two very beautiful ladies dressed in full traditional Spanish attire. I had initially resisted having the picture taken, but reluctantly acquiesced to SailorJill’s “It will be a great souvenir, Jack” exhortation. I should have been more resolute in my objection!

God knows how many people had already seen this photograph – with my skinny white legs sticking out of a pair of oversized khaki safari shorts, sporting a goofy lopsided grin, a large lock of hair sticking straight up in back, and what appeared to be a very large gray stain on my polo shirt. As I stared in shock at the picture I realized that I looked like a cross between Alfalfa and Pigpen and could probably pass as the poster child for birth control!

I quickly turned the photo around and stuck it behind some other pictures on the display rack, vowing to look way more closely in the mirror before ever leaving our stateroom again. However, coming back from lunch SailorJill laughingly pointed out that the picture was back out in front. Grabbing the photo I took it over to the register:

SailorJack: “How much for this picture?”

Clerk: “You actually want that picture?”

SailorJack: “I want it off the display rack.”

Clerk: “OK, it’s twenty dollars. While you’re at it do you want the other one?”

SailorJack (with some apprehension): “Other one?”

Clerk: “The one of you at dinner.”

And there on the other display rack was a picture of our dinner table. That lock of hair was still sticking straight up, the tag on the back of my shirt was sticking out and I had beer foam on my upper lip.

SailorJack: “Yes give me that one, too. Are there any others?”

Clerk (with a little grin): Not yet. That will be forty dollars. I am assuming you don’t want the souvenir silver frames?”

SailorJack: “Let’s make a deal. I’ll come by every morning and give you twenty dollars. In return you will not take any more pictures of me for the rest of the cruise.”

Clerk: “I’m sorry, sir, but frankly, from what we have seen so far we think we can get a lot more than twenty dollars a day.”

SailorJill insisted she was just joking, but I wasn’t about to bet on it. I considered getting a brown paper bag and cutting two eyeholes in it and finishing the trip as the Unknown Cruiser – but I deemed that idea as totally impractical as I did not have a paper bag. That’s when SailorJill volunteered that she had a plastic bag I could use. I gave her my best “What!” look whereupon she said, “OK, maybe I can cut some air holes in it.” Sometimes I wonder why I bring her along.

Day 7 (At Sea)

In the FunTimes there was an announcement that the Spa was having a special on teeth whitening. This was extremely fortunate news because back home I had been planning to go the mall and have that done at the little kiosk just outside the Victoria Secrets store. The kiosk was run by a guy who went by the name of “Bonecrusher.” He was a burly man – not the type you picture as being involved in dental work (at least not the type you associate with fixing teeth). But his price was right – just two dollars a tooth – which was a good price and an outstanding bargain if you are from Alabama – where you can get all your teeth whitened for the price of a couple of six-packs. I was also very impressed with his sign that said, “No Complaints – Ever.”

SailorJack: “Gee, Mr. Bonecrusher, that’s a great record.”

Mr. Bonecrusher: “That’s not my record. That’s my complaint policy.”

SailorJack: “Oh.”

The only reason I had not yet had him whiten my teeth was upon SailorJill’s insistence that she had seen Bonecrusher’s picture on the bulletin board at our local post office. I had insisted that she must be mistaken and besides, there is probably more than one person who has “Muerte” tattooed across their forehead.

Anyway, as the mall kiosk episode had SailorJill a little leery about having anyone but an actual dentist type person perform the procedure, I took her with me up to the Spa to get some more information about the whitening procedure. When we arrived at the Spa, the beauticians that did the work were not available as they were apparently in the middle of performing a hair transplant procedure, so we sat down and read the disclaimers and waivers that we would have to sign. “A mere formality,” we were informed, “most people don’t even read them.”

When the beauticians finally finished their transplant work they came over to speak with us. They were considerably cuter than Bonecrusher, but each also displayed some tattoo artwork – in this case a butterfly and a rose. I was about to ask if they did this in the Spa, but decided I really didn’t want to know. The ladies explained that there were three levels of treatment available – depending upon how much we wanted to pay:

1. We shine a very bright light on your teeth and take a picture that you can show your friends. In this procedure your teeth will appear whiter until we turn the light off.

2. We apply a chemical (our own secret formula) to your teeth that removes stains, plaque, calcium deposits, redundant skin around the teeth and any excess dental enamel.

3. The same as Option 2 except we use an industrial grade laser to activate the chemicals - which speeds up the process. This process guarantees whiter teeth for up to two years providing you don’t drink dark liquids like wine, coffee, tea, and coke, or eat any foods that contain gluten, high levels of protein such as meat, or any form of dark bread, or anything with abnormal amounts of cholesterol – including any recipe from Paula Deen.

The news about what we could eat was completely disheartening as we live in the South – where sales of Paula Deen’s cookbooks are second only to the ones put out by Jiffy Lube! Frankly, I just wasn’t counting on dietary restrictions as the price for whiter teeth. Upon contemplation of my dilemma, I surmised that a variation of Option Number 1 may be a possible solution; I could buy a small, but powerful, LED pocket flashlight and discreetly shine it on my teeth when I smiled.

Day 8 – (Long Beach, California)

We have arrived back where we started – Long Beach, California. Our Mexican cruise may be over, buy my love affair with Carnival may just be starting. This was an extremely enjoyable seven day sojourn and I may even bring my Blanket with a Hole on our next Carnival cruise.

.

Very enjoyable read!! Welcome to Carnival!!

Excellent review, really enjoyed it.

Ahh, SailorJack, you have made my morning. Thanks for the most interesting, entertaining and downright hilarious cruise review I have ever read.

Pete

Nice! :D

Thank you for taking the time to entertain us. Welcome home to Carnival! :)

Thank you. Loved your review.

Ahh, SailorJack, you have made my morning. Thanks for the most interesting, entertaining and downright hilarious cruise review I have ever read.

 

Pete

I agree! Loved it! :)

Thanks for the laughs! Glad you like CCL!

Loved your review. Loved your sense of humor. Completely agree with the description of the MDR on the Miracle. Overwhelming purple grapes to say the least. Otherwise, a great ship. Welcome to Carnival.

Thanks everyone. Pictures coming as soon as I can figure how to upload them.

Awesome Read

Now that was one funny review. Welcome to Carnival! :D

That was a fun read. Thanks!

Glad you enjoyed Carnival.

Thank-you for the very entertaining review. :D

Lol! Loved your sense of humor!

Sent from my iPhone using Forums mobile app

Great review!! Thanks for the laugh this morning. Love your description of the dining room. The cruise we took on the Miracle was my favorite cruise so far and the decoration & design of the ship are memorable! Also, what books have you written, I'm always looking for humorous reads!

Oh, my word. This is the funniest review I have ever read. I want to cruise with SailorJack! :D

Thanks for the great review. Very enjoyable to read!

Terrific review! Now I want a "Don't shoot- we are not drug people" t-shirt!

When it comes to cruising, my wife and I have a working arrangement – she books the cruises and I pay for them. From among all of the cruise lines, she has shown a predilection for Princess as that is all we have sailed on over the past years – along with a cruise or two with HAL, NCL, RCL, and Celebrity. We have assiduously avoided Carnival. That is, however, until SailorJill came into the TV room five weeks ago and announced that she had just booked a 7 day Mexican cruise on Carnival. Completely stunned, I had quickly turned the TV to the weather channel to see if, in fact, Hell had just frozen over. (It hadn’t.)

 

The ship she had booked us on was something called the Miracle, and any faint glimmer of hope I might have held vanished after a search of the internet revealed that the ship had nothing to do with Smoky Robinson. Not only that, but there was no time to shop around as it was a non-refundable fare as it had been booked at the last minute. As they are prone to say in the Legal/Psychiatric world – my wife had just had me committed. After quickly running through the first 6 stages of grief, I reached Acceptance. How bad can it be, I thought, its only 7 days and last I heard there was no shortage of Dos Equis in Mexico.

 

However, in preparing for our upcoming cruise, I was confronted with two unexpected developments. The first occurred when SailorJill suggested that perhaps her mother could accompany us on our cruise. Somewhat taken aback, I pointed out that our room would only accommodate two people. Jill, to my compete surprise, agreed completely and dropped the subject. As she never, ever, concedes a point that easily I was now looking over my shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

The second development, and by far the more serious, was the jury notification letter I received. Never one to shirk my civic duty, I was now faced with the very real prospect of missing our cruise to Mexico. However, SailorJill, who was pre-law at Southern Illinois University, said not to worry. “You can get excused from jury duty during “voir dire.” That is the process, she explained, when you are asked if there is any reason you cannot serve. “Simply tell them you need to be “sequestered” – which means excused due to prior commitments.”

 

On the appointed day, I presented myself at the courthouse as scheduled and approached the court bailiff. My request to be sequestered, however, was met by a great deal of amusement from the assembled personage. It turns out that “sequestered” has an entirely different meaning - and either SailorJill had her terminology confused, or, as I had begun to suspect, she hadn’t entirely given up on sailing with her mother. As it was, I only had to serve one day and was excused.

 

Day 1 – (Long Beach, CA)

 

One of the reasons I have avoided Carnival is, well, as ageist as it may sound, due to its demographics. As the old saying goes, those that cruise are either the newlywed or the nearly dead. And while I am clearly nearer the latter than the former, as I was preparing to board the ship it became obvious that most of my fellow passengers were in the former. It didn’t take me long to realize that the toothbrush in my travel bag was older than half the people in line ahead of me. And the clothing! Tight shorts, scooped-neck T-shirts, and tattoos galore. And apparently that was just the crew! And from the sound of it, the flip-flop industry in America is doing well. Now I don’t mind the constant slap, slap, slapping of the sandals – they remind me of our nightly battle with mosquitoes on our African safari – but I do have a thing about tattoos.

 

Several years ago our eldest daughter, Alexis (we named her that because if we hadn’t had her we could be driving one) approached me as I was watching the Dallas Cowboys on my 60 inch wide screen TV:

 

Alexis: “Dad, I want to get a tattoo.”

SailorJack: “Ask your mother.”

Alexis: “She said to ask you.”

SailorJack: “No.”

Alexis: “Why not!”

SailorJack: Because you will lose interest and your mother and I will wind up having to take care of it.”

Alexis (after a poignant pause): “I said I wanted a Tattoo – not a Cockatoo!”

Mercedes (our youngest daughter): “If she gets one I get one too!”

 

Well, to make a long story short, both of our daughters are now quite eligible to cruise on Carnival.

 

But I digress.

 

During the boarding process I was confronted by a very officious official who was apparently a member of the Water Police:

 

Water Policeperson: “ I am sorry, sir, you cannot bring that water aboard the ship.”

SailorJack: “But it is very special water – it comes from an ancient fountain high in the forested hills above Ephesus.”

WP: “I’m sorry, but you are going to have to leave it ashore.”

SJ: “If I drink it here can I get aboard the ship.”

WP: “Of course.”

 

Now I understood! It’s not the water! Carnival doesn’t like the plastic containers! I can bring the water aboard as long as I drink it first.

 

WP: “Sir, it is not the plastic container, it is the possibility that it contains Vodka.”

SJ (Somewhat offended): “Sir, do I look like the type of person who could drink two liters of Vodka on a 7 day cruise!”

WP (Condescendingly): “Of course not, sir. In your case it would most likely be Gin.” (He didn’t actually say that last part, but I could tell he was thinking it).

 

Needless to say, my water stayed ashore as did SailorJill’s diet Coke (it contained the forbidden water). After bidding a lingering farewell to our cherished refreshments, we were allowed to board the ship, endure the primeval rush to the elevators, and make our way to our stateroom.

 

As this year was a special anniversary, I had reluctantly placed my Scottish heritage in abeyance and had (unbeknownst to SailorJill) upgraded our reservation to a suite for this cruise. It will be the first time we have ever sailed in a suite and I was hoping that this gesture would atone for an apparent earlier miscue. Several months ago, in asking SailorJill what she would like on our anniversary she had replied that “sharing a romantic B&B would be fun.” I, of course, was delighted as her request reaffirmed my belief that two people who share years together grow to become as one – sharing a common appreciation for the finer things in life.

 

So, in the ensuing weeks I had taken great care to ensure that our anniversary was, indeed, special. So come the morning of our anniversary, you can understand that I was somewhat confused when she inquired as to where I had made reservations. "Reservations?" Momentarily deferring an answer to her question, I had enthusiastically presented to her (appropriately gift wrapped, mind you) her anniversary gift - a very special collection of assorted imported German hand-crafted ales and a very alluring two piece swim suit. However, after considering my gifts for a few moments, SailorJill turned to me: “Jack, B&B does not stand for Beer and a Bikini!” Apparently, we hadn’t yet fully become as one and I had misread her request. Thus the suite – a seagoing Bed and Breakfast, if you will.

 

Day 1 (Continued)

 

For dinner tonight we went to the main dining room and incurred the second of the amazing surprises that we encountered aboard the Miracle. It may surprise you (as it certainly did us) to realize that Carnival had apparently outsourced the design and decor of the dining room to the Napa-Sonoma Wine Growers Association. I mean there were bunches of grapes everywhere you looked – on the ceiling, clinging to the support pillars, and intertwined amongst the railings and seat backs. And I am not talking small little bunches – they were more akin to Moby Grape. The official name for the Main Dining Room is “Bacchus,” who apparently was the Roman God of Purple. I have never seen so much purple since, well, let’s face it – never. It’s like they took the roof off the dining room in the middle of a purple rainstorm. Now I am not saying it didn’t have a certain charm – it just took some getting used to.

 

All that said, the dinner and the service was outstanding. And, although I am getting a little ahead of myself here, I can positively state that the service and meals we experienced aboard the Miracle was among the best we have ever experienced.

 

 

Day 2 ( At Sea)

 

Our first day at sea and the day is fabulous so SailorJill and I went up to Serenity, the adults only area on Lido deck. Climbing into a clamshell recliner built for two, we relaxed in the morning sun and enjoyed reading a good book. However, as our meet and greet was scheduled for 12:00 at the Red Frog Pub we reluctantly gave up our lounge and went back to our room around 11:00 to shower and dress. SailorJill was wearing a hip-hugging flouncy rainbow colored miniskirt, a matching senorita crop top, and 5 inch red stiletto heeled sandals. She topped it off with a little palm tree navel piercing, matching earrings and a red rose in her jet black hair. No, Wait! That’s actually my new screen saver! Sorry. Actually, Jill is wearing shorts and her “Men are Idiots and My Husband is their Leader” T-shirt – a gift from her mother on the occasion of our sixth wedding anniversary. After putting on shorts, a T-shirt and a pair of Topsiders we were ready to meet our fellow travelers.

 

One of the delightful ladies we had the opportunity to visit with was from Arizona (Official Motto: Arizona - We Put the AZ in Crazy). We were pleased to hear from her that Arizona was no longer a territory, but during our conversation she let slip that the official state tree of Arizona was something called the Palo Verde – which apparently is Spanish for “Green Stick.” The state tree of Arizona is a Green Stick? I couldn’t help wondering if the official state vegetable was the Green Bean. Being in the middle of the Sonoran Desert, I understand that green is an important and cherished color, but really, Green Stick! I think that goes a long way in explaining the origin of their official motto!

 

On the other hand, I carry my own baggage. I am often loathe to say where I am from because as soon as I say “British Columbia” I am met with not so well concealed looks of sympathy. There is something about the name “British Columbia” that conjures up an image of some small postage stamp sized country carved out of the jungle in South America – with a lonely, tattered Union Jack fluttering from a dead banana tree (which is not our official tree!). After being complimented on my grasp of the English language, ability to use a fork and a knife, and how to hold a wine glass correctly, I am forced to add that British Columbia is a province in Canada – the first one on the left, actually.

 

Day 2 (Continued)

 

Tonight was lobster night – which brought back rather uncomfortable memories of my first date with SailorJill (actually she was just Jill back then). Wanting to make a great impression I had suggested a restaurant that was a little out of my college student budget, but I really wanted to impress this girl! Seated at the restaurant table we were presented with a menu upon which read, among other things (mostly in French), “Lobster Tail –Market Price.” New to the lobster-for-dinner game, I suspected that “Market Price” was restaurantese for “we dare you to ask what the price is in front of your date!”

 

Nevertheless, I inquired as to the price and was informed that the two pound lobster was $42. And, over Jill’s objection that this was far too expensive, I ordered two lobster plates and mentally wondered where I could get a second job. Our dinner, however, was delightful and we spent several wonderful hours in conversation until Jill went to the powder room and the bill came:

 

SailorJack: "Excuse me, but there seems to be a mistake here."

Waitress: " Yes sir?"

SailorJack: "You said market price was $21 a pound - or $42 dollars for the two pound lobster

plate, but the bill works out to $25 a pound."

Waitress: "Yes sir, the market price I quoted at 7:00 was $21, but when you ordered at 7:30 it

had gone up to $25."

SailorJack: "But, but, $25 a pound is more per pound than I paid for my car! ( A used 1971

Gremlin, if you must know.)"

Waitress (incredulously): " You drive a Gremlin and you came to this restaurant?"

 

As Jill was coming back to the table, I gave my credit card (and my life savings) to the waitress and prayed that there was enough gas in the car to get home. (Our next date, by the way, was at Taco Bell – I got an employee discount.)

 

I have since come to believe that there is a brazen criminal syndicate – similar to drug cartels – that controls the supply and price of this six legged saltwater seabed crawler. Why else would they be so expensive! My proof of the existence of this brazen criminal group? My first hint was the inside joke they play on us. Just take a look at the first letter in the word “Lobster.” Replace the “L” with the next letter up in the alphabet and what do you get – “Mobster!” How brazen can you get! And they say crime doesn’t pay.

 

But I digress once again.

 

Anyway, as most of us can’t afford lobster at home, statistics reveal that 99.76 percent of people on a cruise order lobster on lobster night. So what did we order tonight – lobster, of course – we are addicted.

 

 

At least I thought I had ordered lobster:

 

SailorJack: "Excuse me, but I ordered the lobster plate."

Waiter: "Yes, sir?"

SailorJack: "But where is my lobster?"

Waiter: "I believe that's it under the lettuce leaf, sir."

 

 

Day 3 (Cabo San Lucas, Mexico)

 

We have arrived at our first port of call – Cabo San Lucas in the Mexican state of Baja California. Once a small fishing village, it has grown to become one of Baja California’s premier fishing, water sports and whale watching locations. It is now rated as one of the top five tourist destinations in Mexico.

 

Our tour today included a stop at the beach to do something called “snorkeling.” The word apparently comes from the German words “gesnörk” - which roughly translates as “desperately try to suck air” and “ëling” – meaning “good luck”

 

The idea, apparently, is for you to float on top of the water with a plastic tube in your mouth and try not to breathe when the plastic tube dips below the surface of the ocean. The concept may have originated from the ancient witch trials in Salem, Massachusetts where they threw suspected witches into the water to see they could float and breathe. Anyway, the modern snorkeling industry has come up with a complete set of equipment designed to keep you alive until the warranties run out:

 

Flippers. These are long floppy contraptions which are attached to your feet. They are designed to propel you faster once you get in the water – assuming you can actually make it down to the water. While I was told that these would help me swim, I think that they were actually designed as entertainment for the people on the beach. The flippers closely resemble oversized clown shoes and you cannot walk in them without tripping over them and falling down every other step – whence cometh the name – flipper. On the other hand, they could also be a cleverly designed safety device because if you put them on while you are far enough up the beach you probably could never make it down to the water. Experienced flipper wearers, however, have learned to walk backwards while sliding their feet when wearing their flippers. In retrospect, this is when it dawned on me that Michael Jackson must have been a snorkeler.

 

Red Vest. The vest, we are told, is a safety feature designed to alert ski boats as to our presence so that would not hit us and damage their propellers.

 

Mask. The mask is a two part device designed to fit over your face so that you can see better under water. Part one is a glass panel encased in rubber that fits over your head and face. Part two (and I swear I am not making this up) is….spit! That’s right – we can put a man on the moon but we cannot design a fog free mask without using human saliva. To keep the glass fog free you must spit into the mask and rub it all over the glass. I have no idea how this process works, but my best guess is that the bacteria in the saliva must eat up the little fog particles.

 

Snorkel. This, basically, is a plastic breathing tube that has been adapted from the medical profession, but, in this case, for use while you are actually conscious. I suspect that successful snorkelers practice deep breathing exercises for months before actually snorkeling as the process requires the lung capacity of a large bull elephant to actually suck down enough air to sustain life.

 

Mask/Snorkel Deterrence Factor. After donning the mask, the strap behind your head pulls it tightly onto the face – creating a vacuum that forces that part of your forehead above the mask to swell upward and causes the eyes to bulge out slightly. Then, once the mouthpiece of the snorkel is inserted into the mouth, it forces the cheeks to puff out and the lips to protrude outwards - much like that of a grouper. The combined effect bears an eerie countenance similar to the face of a Beluga whale – and apparently serves to deter assaults from barracuda, stingrays, and saltwater sponges. OK, I know that sponges hardly ever attack snorkelers, but you can never be too careful.

 

Bottom Line: Snorkelers in full gear are not a pretty sight. As I tried to make my way down the beach with flippers kicking up sand and mask and snorkel firmly in place, I noticed mothers frantically protecting their children by shielding their eyes from the approaching alien life form.

 

Oh, yes...we had a great time and I only fell three times walking backwards down the beach.

 

 

Day 4 – (Mazatlan, Mexico)

 

We have arrived in Mazatlan in the Mexican state of Sinaloa. Now where have I heard that word before? Oh yes, the Sinaloa drug cartel! This is why one of the concerns many visitors have when visiting Mazatlan is crime – an issue that led three cruise lines to momentarily stop calling at Mazatlan – but that was several years ago. However, any lingering concerns we might have had were laid to rest by comments from one of the many volunteers manning the tourist desks that are found in the city (and I swear I am not making this up):

 

“If you are not in the drug trade. If you are not buying drugs you don’t have to worry about the drug people. And, usually, when they shoot they hit what they are aiming at – which are other drug people…you rarely have drive-by shootings.”

 

Relieved that we wouldn’t inadvertently be caught in a cross fire from people who usually hit what they are aiming at, we set forth and follow the Blue Line into Mazatlan. I was, however, keeping my eye out for any T-shirts that read “Don’t shoot – We are not Drug People.”

 

Mazatlan is an amazing city. Founded in 1531, the historic district is a virtual paradise for fans of architecture. Nineteenth century landmarks include, amongst many others, the performance hall Teatro Ángela Peralta and the towering Immaculate Conception basilica.As we explored the town we stumbled upon the Mercado Pino Suarez. It is an amazing two-story market place that has existed in this spot for nearly 120 years and is a must stop for any visit to Mazatlan. It is said that if you cannot find what you want from any of the 350 vendors in the Mercado then it is not available anywhere in Mexico. SailorJill has accepted that challenge and she is looking to find a colorful blanket to use as a wall hanging for our den. As we strolled among the stalls we came upon one of the bigger stalls and Jill spotted a pile of rugs that were fairly expensive. I continued wandering around the stall and found a very colorful one that was quite obviously a second and, with my bargaining ability, I figured I could get it for a good price and surprise Jill with my shopping acumen:

 

Sailorjack: “How much is this blanket, please.”

Salesperson: “Ah, you have excellent taste, Señor. It is only 500 pesos.”

Sailorjack: “Isn’t that just a little bit expensive – given the fact that it has a hole in it?”

Salesperson: “But Señor , it is supposed to have the hole.”

Sailorjack: “ Why would you make a blanket with a hole!”

Salesperson: “You stick your head in it.”

Sailorjack: “And just why would anyone want to stick their head in a blanket.”

Salesperson: “Because, Señor, it is not a blanket – it is a serape.”

 

I had no idea what he was talking about, but apparently “serape” is Spanish for “blanket with a hole.” But I had to admit, this guy was good – not only had he come up with a quick explanation for the hole in the blanket, but he actually doubled down: “Señor, let me show you a sombrero that will look so good with your blanket with a hole.” He then led me over to the back of the stall where he, with great pride, pointed to an entire shelf displaying what were (according to the large sign) SOMBREROS! Apparently, sombrero is Spanish for “hat that looks like a candy dish.”

 

Pulling one off the shelf he handed it to me. “Put on the sombrero and the blanket with the hole Señor and turn around to the mirror – look how dashing you look! A true Mexican Caballero if ever I have seen one! I had no idea what a Caballero was, but if it was Spanish for “big piñata” he had my look nailed!

 

About then, SailorJill comes around the corner, takes one look and says, “Jack, I’ll get you a guitar and you could join a Mariachi band.” I had no idea who this merry Archie guy was, but then many of her comments go over my head. Anyway, it was time to pay for our purchases and find a place for lunch.

 

For lunch we headed back to Plaza Machado, located in the heart of Mazatlan’s historic district. The tree lined plaza was the perfect place to enjoy lunch. It is surrounded by historic buildings, is home to a number of beautiful café’s, and is a great place to just relax and people watch. The restaurant we selected was located on the southern facing side and we were serenaded by a wonderful duo who sang traditional Spanish songs. Halfway through lunch, the proprietor approached us and asked if we would like a complementary sampling of their proprietary tequilas.

 

Not wishing to offend our host I politely accepted his invitation. Departing, he soon returned with four bottles of tequila. The most notable one was a one gallon jug with (and I swear I am not making this up!) a dead rattlesnake coiled up in the bottom. At least it appeared dead, but for all I knew it could just as easily have just been dead drunk. The tequila (and you had to know this was coming) had a real bite to it! Now to those who have bragged about having drunk mezcal with the maguey worm at the bottom, I have just one word - amateurs!

 

The other three tequilas included two that were flavored – one with almonds and one with coffee. They were absolutely stunning and we bought one of each.

 

After lunch we strolled over to the boardwalk that ran along the coast and marveled at all the monuments that honored various people and events in Mazatlan history. It was then that we came across a very tall structure that towered eight or nine stories over the waters below. Perched upon the top of the structure was a young boy in swim shorts. As I stood there, an older man started yelling, “My boy is about to dive.” He then turned to me and repeated, “My boy is about to dive!” For the life of me I had no idea as to why he was looking at me – I certainly wasn’t about to climb up there and get him.

 

“Your camera,” he yelled, “Get your camera ready.” I guess I was a little slow - he wasn’t asking for help, he wanted me to take a picture of the dive and to then give him a dollar. “Isn’t that a little dangerous” I asked. “It is very safe and besides he has insurance.” I wasn’t about ask if it was health or life insurance, but I offered him a dollar if he just had his son climb back down. I guess he was somewhat disappointed in me as he turned around to another couple and yelled “My son is about to dive!”

 

On that note, we reversed course and headed back to the ship. Overall, we had a great day in Mazatlan and I would be remiss if I did not note that at no time did we ever experience any concerns about exploring Mazatlan. It is a beautifully picturesque city and the people we met were friendly, welcoming, and extremely helpful. It is a great port on the Mexican Riviera.

 

Next stop – Puerto Vallarta.

 

 

Day 5 – ( Puerto Vallarta, Mexico)

 

We have arrived at our final port, Puerto Vallarta – located in the Mexican state of Jalisco. Prior to clearing us for debarking, our cruise director made the following announcement:

 

The United States Department of State has issued a travel advisory for Puerto Vallarta due to the high incidence of crime in the area – particularly in the early mornings and evenings. Guests are advised to stay within the recognized tourist areas, be cognizant of your surroundings and avoid eye contact with strangers. (OK, I made up the part about eye contact.) Enjoy your day in Puerto Vallarta!

 

While surprised at the announcement, we were not overly concerned as we had no plans to leave the recognized tourist areas. In fact, SailorJill has signed us up for a Salsa class. Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that I was not a total success at our Tango class in Buenos Aires, but I did develop a certain affection for Latin music. And, while I would not admit it to SailorJill, I was kind of looking forward to learning a few more Latin dance moves.

 

At least that was my thinking aboard the Miracle. However, I am now standing in a kitchen with thirteen women and wearing a red apron embroidered with a funny looking vegetable called a jalapeño. SailorJill, it turns out, didn’t sign us up for a Salsa dance class – she signed us up for a Salsa cooking class. Salsa, as I was soon to learn, turns out be Spanish for “burning pain.” (But I am getting ahead of myself.) I am not afraid to admit that I am totally out of my element in a kitchen. It’s not that I am not completely unfamiliar with a kitchen (that’s the room where we keep the beer), but I have never before taken stuff from a pantry and turned it into actual food. Nor have I ever worn an apron; and I am the only person in the room with a Y chromosome. Still, somewhat secure in my own masculinity, I put on my little puffy paper chef hat with my name penciled on the side and take my place behind a little table.

 

Spread out on the table before me are a variety of Salsa ingredients – chili peppers, jalapeño peppers, bell peppers, and cayenne pepper. Note the repetitive use of the word “pepper.” (In literary circles this is known as “foreshadowing” where the author hints at future dire consequences.) Also on the table are several other mouth puckering items - garlic, onions, and limes. The only innocuous items appear to be tomatoes and something called cilantro – which looks alarmingly like some of the weeds growing in my back yard.

 

My first task was to slice up the jalapeños and onions. Now for those of you have never been required to cut up onions before, be warned that they apparently contain microscopic organisms known as “ions.” These ions appear to be lighter than air, and once released from the onion rise up and can actually land on your eye. In retrospect, that is probably why they call them “ions.” These ions, in turn, cause the eyes to water and the vision to blur. Caution: Do not try to wipe away the tears after you have also been slicing jalapeños! BURNING PAIN! I was assured by several well wishers that my vision would soon return, but I think that it was during this period of recovery that I missed critical information regarding the use of the jalapeño .

 

Now, while the aforementioned cilantro initially appeared innocuous, I was instructed to tightly pack the leaves, roll them up and then, with a very sharp knife, cut them into very thin strips. This process, I was informed, was called “chiffonade” a French word meaning “little ribbons” which was a good description of the tips of my fingers by the time I was finished.

 

Once we had completed making our salsa it came time to try to actually eat it. Before I continue, let me provide a few useful Spanish phrases that come in handy when preparing and eating salsa: “Aqua por favor,” ”Mas aqua por favor,” and, at least in my case, “Donde esta el doctor.” This last phrase became necessary after I lost my vision and also because I missed the part about not putting the jalapeño seeds into the salsa. As it turns out, jalapeño seeds contain something called scovilles (apparently named after the Marquis de Scoville - a distant relative of Marquis de Sade) and you are supposed to scoop the seeds out and set them aside. They can then later be used to spread around the perimeter of your house to repel unwanted pests – like ants, termites and magazine salespeople.

 

Anyway, after making the red salsa, we made several other types including a green salsa and a dessert salsa. Then, just when I thought that I would be making it safely out of the kitchen our instructor introduced us to what she called “the heat and spice of pico de gallo.” It contained a substance whose name should never, ever, even be whispered in the presence of children, the timid or the faint of heart. A word that even today – weeks after my work as a salsa chef – brings weakness to my knees and a cold sweat to my brow – habanero!

 

After the class we headed to the world famous Malecon to stroll along the beach. Now in English we have what are known as “homographs.” These are words that are spelled the same and are pronounced the same, but have different meanings. For instance, take the word “lead.” It can either refer to a type of metal or to an action (he lead the parade). Well Spanish has exactly the same thing – who knew? Take the aforementioned Malecon. Apparently it can mean either “Boardwalk with 1,000 T-shirt shops,” or “Promenade of cheap liquor.”

 

As we strolled along the Malecon, I cannot recount the number of times that someone called out “Hey, you - the good looking guy, we have $1 margaritas here.” or “Handsome Canadian dude, we have T-shirts 3 for $10.” Well, maybe they didn’t use those exact words, but you get the idea. While the boardwalk was, indeed, very picturesque, it was highly commercialized. But along the boardwalk are beautiful beaches, interesting shops and a number of public pieces of statuary. Also highly interesting are the pieces of human statuary. When standing in front of one and admiring the detail, you are surprised when it starts to move and extends a hand out for a contribution for the picture you have just taken. Be sure to look for what first appeared to be an incredible statue of two men sitting at a card table!

 

Day 6 – (at Sea)

 

We spent the morning playing trivia and doing a little window shopping in the stores. We then decided to take an early lunch so we could attend the magic show in the Mad Hatter’s Ballroom. Passing through the photo shop on the way to Horatio’s I was startled to see my picture on one of the display racks. It was the one that was taken when I got off the ship in Mazatlan where I posed with two very beautiful ladies dressed in full traditional Spanish attire. I had initially resisted having the picture taken, but reluctantly acquiesced to SailorJill’s “It will be a great souvenir, Jack” exhortation. I should have been more resolute in my objection!

 

God knows how many people had already seen this photograph – with my skinny white legs sticking out of a pair of oversized khaki safari shorts, sporting a goofy lopsided grin, a large lock of hair sticking straight up in back, and what appeared to be a very large gray stain on my polo shirt. As I stared in shock at the picture I realized that I looked like a cross between Alfalfa and Pigpen and could probably pass as the poster child for birth control!

 

I quickly turned the photo around and stuck it behind some other pictures on the display rack, vowing to look way more closely in the mirror before ever leaving our stateroom again. However, coming back from lunch SailorJill laughingly pointed out that the picture was back out in front. Grabbing the photo I took it over to the register:

 

SailorJack: “How much for this picture?”

Clerk: “You actually want that picture?”

SailorJack: “I want it off the display rack.”

Clerk: “OK, it’s twenty dollars. While you’re at it do you want the other one?”

SailorJack (with some apprehension): “Other one?”

Clerk: “The one of you at dinner.”

 

And there on the other display rack was a picture of our dinner table. That lock of hair was still sticking straight up, the tag on the back of my shirt was sticking out and I had beer foam on my upper lip.

 

SailorJack: “Yes give me that one, too. Are there any others?”

Clerk (with a little grin): Not yet. That will be forty dollars. I am assuming you don’t want the souvenir silver frames?”

SailorJack: “Let’s make a deal. I’ll come by every morning and give you twenty dollars. In return you will not take any more pictures of me for the rest of the cruise.”

Clerk: “I’m sorry, sir, but frankly, from what we have seen so far we think we can get a lot more than twenty dollars a day.”

 

SailorJill insisted she was just joking, but I wasn’t about to bet on it. I considered getting a brown paper bag and cutting two eyeholes in it and finishing the trip as the Unknown Cruiser – but I deemed that idea as totally impractical as I did not have a paper bag. That’s when SailorJill volunteered that she had a plastic bag I could use. I gave her my best “What!” look whereupon she said, “OK, maybe I can cut some air holes in it.” Sometimes I wonder why I bring her along.

 

Day 7 (At Sea)

 

In the FunTimes there was an announcement that the Spa was having a special on teeth whitening. This was extremely fortunate news because back home I had been planning to go the mall and have that done at the little kiosk just outside the Victoria Secrets store. The kiosk was run by a guy who went by the name of “Bonecrusher.” He was a burly man – not the type you picture as being involved in dental work (at least not the type you associate with fixing teeth). But his price was right – just two dollars a tooth – which was a good price and an outstanding bargain if you are from Alabama – where you can get all your teeth whitened for the price of a couple of six-packs. I was also very impressed with his sign that said, “No Complaints – Ever.”

 

SailorJack: “Gee, Mr. Bonecrusher, that’s a great record.”

Mr. Bonecrusher: “That’s not my record. That’s my complaint policy.”

SailorJack: “Oh.”

 

The only reason I had not yet had him whiten my teeth was upon SailorJill’s insistence that she had seen Bonecrusher’s picture on the bulletin board at our local post office. I had insisted that she must be mistaken and besides, there is probably more than one person who has “Muerte” tattooed across their forehead.

 

Anyway, as the mall kiosk episode had SailorJill a little leery about having anyone but an actual dentist type person perform the procedure, I took her with me up to the Spa to get some more information about the whitening procedure. When we arrived at the Spa, the beauticians that did the work were not available as they were apparently in the middle of performing a hair transplant procedure, so we sat down and read the disclaimers and waivers that we would have to sign. “A mere formality,” we were informed, “most people don’t even read them.”

 

When the beauticians finally finished their transplant work they came over to speak with us. They were considerably cuter than Bonecrusher, but each also displayed some tattoo artwork – in this case a butterfly and a rose. I was about to ask if they did this in the Spa, but decided I really didn’t want to know. The ladies explained that there were three levels of treatment available – depending upon how much we wanted to pay:

 

1. We shine a very bright light on your teeth and take a picture that you can show your friends. In this procedure your teeth will appear whiter until we turn the light off.

2. We apply a chemical (our own secret formula) to your teeth that removes stains, plaque, calcium deposits, redundant skin around the teeth and any excess dental enamel.

3. The same as Option 2 except we use an industrial grade laser to activate the chemicals - which speeds up the process. This process guarantees whiter teeth for up to two years providing you don’t drink dark liquids like wine, coffee, tea, and coke, or eat any foods that contain gluten, high levels of protein such as meat, or any form of dark bread, or anything with abnormal amounts of cholesterol – including any recipe from Paula Deen.

 

The news about what we could eat was completely disheartening as we live in the South – where sales of Paula Deen’s cookbooks are second only to the ones put out by Jiffy Lube! Frankly, I just wasn’t counting on dietary restrictions as the price for whiter teeth. Upon contemplation of my dilemma, I surmised that a variation of Option Number 1 may be a possible solution; I could buy a small, but powerful, LED pocket flashlight and discreetly shine it on my teeth when I smiled.

 

 

Day 8 – (Long Beach, California)

 

We have arrived back where we started – Long Beach, California. Our Mexican cruise may be over, buy my love affair with Carnival may just be starting. This was an extremely enjoyable seven day sojourn and I may even bring my Blanket with a Hole on our next Carnival cruise.

 

 

 

 

 

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Brilliant!

Terrific review! Now I want a "Don't shoot- we are not drug people" t-shirt!

I never did find that T-shirt, but, I did look for one.:D

Oh, my word. This is the funniest review I have ever read. I want to cruise with SailorJack! :D

Thanks. Maybe our paths will cross on another Carnival cruise.:D

Very enjoyable!

Havn't laughed that much while reading a review in a long time. Very funny !!

Hilarious! SO glad you enjoyed Carnival. Maybe we can be entertained by future reviews!