Capetown to Singapore

[Mura]

Loved your post about the safari, of course ...

 

But I'm with your Mom ... I could have done without hearing about impala poop!

 

I guess I'm glad that when we did our Kenya-Tanzania safari so many years ago they weren't advising us to spit elephant poop!!!! :D

[dwelsh]

Ah!! Now I understand what our politicians have been spouting!!! its IMPALA-POOP!!!

[2thebrig08]

Jack,

 

You never disappoint me. While some might find a cruising story that features a father with Alzheimer's depressing, I find great hope and encouragement. Your words will help others do the same thing. Keep writing boy. Your words are our Christmas gift!

 

Larry

[JackfromWA]

Our first view of Richards Bay was shipping containers, gray skies, and rain. We had made plans to take Oceania’s shore excursion to visit the Duma Zulu cultural village. The village is home to more than 50 Zulu tribe members who recreate the experience of a traditional Zulu community. Although this was an anthropological experience specifically aimed at tourists, King Goodwill Zwelithini placed the royal Zulu seal of approval on Dumazulu and in my estimation they managed to stay just on the right side of authenticity.

 

On the hour drive from the ship we passed banana crops, vegetable fields, rows of cultivated trees and occasional homesteads. This morning Casey met the only other kid on the ship, an 11-year old named Anthony from Argentina who also took the same tour. Our bus was only half full. One of the things I like about Oceania is that instead of cramming buses beyond comfortable capacity, they often charter multiple buses so guests aren’t cramped.

 

I was bored by our guide’s commentary. He spoke in a flat tone with a strong South African inflection. “On your right,” boomed through the bus loudspeaker, “are local people selling pineapples.” Every half a mile or so was a person standing next to a stand of pineapples. His comments were as uninspired as a TV football announcer declaring, “In order to win the game the Seahawks will have to score some more points.” I didn’t need him to point out pineapple were for sale. I put in earphones and listened to music. One of my favorite diversions traveling is to create my own soundtrack and imagine my own stories about what I’m seeing.

 

Upon arrival we were escorted to a covered area and offered complimentary coffee, tea, muffins and restrooms. There was a small curio shop but no one tried too hard to get us to buy anything.

 

“Does Casey know about the women here?” Sukey asked.

 

“You mean that they’re topless?”

“Yes.”

 

“Well, I wasn’t going to tell him, but I didn’t want him to point or get too excited so I mentioned that sometimes some of the young woman don’t wear bras or shirts. I think he thought I was teasing.” Sukey smiled. Our guide led us to the entrance to the trail. It was raining steadily and anyone without an umbrella or hat was getting soaked.

 

“Why didn’t we bring an umbrella dad?”

 

“Because I wasn’t very smart Casey.”

 

“Ladies and gentleman,” the Zulu narrator began, “welcome to our village. Because it is raining today we are going to do all our activities for you in a covered area.” Her words were met with a smattering of applause. “This village was endorsed by Zulu royalty. Today you will witness demonstrations of basket weaving, spear and shield making, beadwork and Zulu dancing. These are traditional activities of our people that we create today for your blessed enjoyment.” The more she spoke the more I wished we could listen to her lecture under cover too—I was dripping wet. It was ironic that she kept telling us we would enjoy everything under a covered area while she left us standing in the rain getting soaked. Eventually she led us toward a large covered structure that reminded me of a Polynesian longhouse.

 

As we took our seats our guide from the bus reminded us, “You can take all the photos you want except for the traditional healer, or sangoma. They will introduce you to him so you will know exactly who he is.”

 

We were seated on wooden benches in a U-shaped two-tiered configuration around the back perimeter. It was about as comfortable as a Friday night high school football game. Next to me was a friendly African man in traditional Zulu garb in bad need of a good dentist. I asked him if I could take a photo and he enthusiastically agreed I could. Soon the narrator began and started describing village life and the various crafts.

 

Two topless young teenagers walked in. Casey looked wide-eyed at me. He was sitting next to Anthony. I overheard Anthony say, “I’ve been blinded!” Both boys giggled as their eyes followed the girls moving around the presentation area.

 

“The girls in front of you are not engaged and do not have boyfriends. When they do not have any top on it means they are available for the men to pursue,” the narrator explained. “When they have the boyfriend or become betrothed than they cover with these beads,” she pointed to a beaded bra that another young woman wore. “And when they marry they wear these red hats. The white symbols on them indicate their power in the village.” We could see several women wearing wide red hats with small white markings, their breasts and midriffs fully covered.

 

Some of the tribe began to loudly drum and the men began an energetic, syncopated dance involving shields, spears, bones and extraordinary high kicking. My feet and hands involuntarily kept time as I was swept into the intensity of the rhythm and tradition of a native Zulu dance. How wonderful this would be to see under a moonlit sky hundreds of years ago, I thought. For a few moments I was swept away from 2010 and could imagine the generations that listened to these drums while witnessing the pageantry, savagery and beauty of the tribe’s dance.

 

Finally the beat ended. “Ladies and gentleman. This concludes our fine show. I hope everybody enjoys the time seen.” She smiled at me and I smiled back, enjoying her clipped English-Zulu language and the glow I felt in the aftermath of the dance. We were invited to take pictures and I realized that the man I photographed next to me was the healer, but contrary to our guides warning he was happy to pose for pictures with us. So often things are what you are warned they will be in Africa.

 

On the drive back my mom had a great time talking to another couple that had also taught elementary school on US military bases in Germany in the early 1960’s. My dad was quiet, but he stayed awake and seemed to enjoy the village and the bus ride. My mom came back and sat by me. “What happened this morning mom?” I could tell when we left the ship that it had been a difficult morning.

 

“Your father left his wallet in his pants. When I washed them all his credit cards and papers were soaked.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

 

“I love your father. But people change. The man I married isn’t the same man you knew when you were a child. He was so intense when we first got married and he was always too worried about how you kids would behave when we went to see your grandmother in Holland. Oma didn’t really care how you acted at all. I guess when you’ve been married to someone for 52-years you really are married to different people at different times…” her voice trailed off. “The difference is now he often seems like a familiar stranger.” We were both quiet. There was really nothing to say, as I knew what she meant. “I thought I was done raising kids,” she went on, “but traveling with your dad now is a lot like having a child. I have to remind him to take his room key, make sure he has his camera and not too much money, help him button his clothing… sometimes the golden years aren’t so golden. This must be hard on you, too. You’re not only having to help me with your dad but you have Casey.”

 

“I guess it’s hard Mom, and part of me wishes things were different—especially with dad—but it’s OK. I feel ready for this and it’s time for me to be a father to my son and a son to my father. Even though I don’t always like it, I feel up to it. Besides mom, I’m so proud of you and dad. Most people in your situation would be sitting at home getting depressed about everything and here we are in Africa! You just left a Zulu village, we just spent 3-days on safari and we have a month ahead of us going to places we’ve never seen before… I’m really proud of both of you. Even though it’s a different trip with Dad than any of us have ever taking before, it’s still better than staying at home!


“You’re right. This is the most active I’ve seen your dad in months. He sleeps so much at home. I thought it was because he was tired, but now I’m thinking maybe it’s because he is depressed. He certainly is staying awake here!”

 

We returned to the ship, ate lunch, spent the last of our South African Rand on the pier (it was our last day in South Africa) and prepared for our trip to Maputo, Mozambique the next day.

 

That night our meal in the dining room wasn’t very good. Food is subjective so I won’t get into details. Suffice it to say that between the waiter forgetting things, my steak arriving barely warm, my father’s milk served with ice and the light on our table not working, I knew that this wasn’t our night. Although the cruise started six days ago, it was our first meal in the Grand Dining Room. I was confident our experience was an anomaly—apparently the kitchen staff, service staff and maintenance staff were all struggling with our table—so I chose to ignore the problems and enjoy dinner. Even a bad meal on a cruise ship is usually better than what I eat at home. Our previous dinners at Tapas On The Terrace and Toscana were excellent, and I’m sure that the Grand Dining Room will be excellent next time too.

 

Mozambique was colonized by Portugal in the early 1500’s and declared independency in 1975. From 1975 till 1992 the county experienced an intense and brutal civil war. The current democratic government is less than two decades old. Although the capital, Maputo, is fairly developed by African standards, there is rampant poverty in the rural areas. I booked a private city tour for us.

 

When we left the ship our tour company wasn’t waiting at the gangway. A Caucasian man in an official port vehicle approached me and when I explained who I was looking for he kindly offered to drive us from the ship to the port gate. It turned out he was in charge of security and maintenance for the entire port facility. The ship offered a complimentary shuttle from the gangway to the Maputo central railway station, which is famous, both for its ornate beauty and because it was designed by Gustave Eiffel noted for the Eiffel Tower, but we needed to find our tour guide. 

The guide, Atalie, was waiting at the gate arguing with port security to let her in. The four of us climbed into her 12-passenger air-conditioned touring bus and quickly escaped the humid heat. The private 4-hour tour cost $200 for four of us. We started by visiting a local food and produce market. The smell of sweltering heat, fresh fish, tropical fruit and pungent herbs swirled together to create a unique sticky scent of African commerce. I loved it.

 

“Would you like to try this?” Atalie offered me a brown pasty looking root. I normally don’t try unknown things in strange countries but my son was watching me and I wanted to appear brave. Sensing my apprehension she said, “It’s like a sweet lemon. Just mind the seed.” I put it in my mouth and it tasted good.

 

“Want to try it Casey?”

“No, I don’t think I’d like it.” His eyes wandered everywhere as his mind imported more than his consciousness could think about now. My father and mother enjoyed themselves. They have shopped in markets like this all over the world. From Paraguay to Istanbul to Goa to Holland they have frequented local sellers and walked away from more than they have bought. My dad is a fierce negotiator and I suspect that even after he has forgotten the names of his grandkids he will still be able to walk away from a bad deal, hoping that the seller will come running after him to meet his price.

 

We visited Independence Square, the Iron House, an expensive art gallery a Roman-Catholic cathedral and the Museum of Natural History. The museum is famous for its collection of elephant fetuses. An elephant pregnancy lasts almost two years, and the museum displays about 15 fetuses ranging from a few weeks old to 22 months. The museum also has a large collection of spears, swords and indigenous stone carvings. One of the statues caught Casey’s eye.

 

“Look at that dad,” he pointed laughing. In the glass case in front of us was a little stone man with a penis wider than its arm. “Take a picture dad, please?” He wasn’t that excited by the thousand-year old spears or elephant fetuses but the well-endowed little man was pleasing to his 12-year old mind.

 

The downtown Maputo streets our difficult to navigate as the government is in the midst of changing their names. Many major streets are names after famous communists. For example, Ho Chi Minh Drive, Karl Marx Avenue, Fidel Castro Boulevard, but now they are being named after local patriots favored by the current regime. Our guide wanted to take us to a beach but I explained we weren’t that interested in beaches—we were headed to the Seychelles Islands and Maldives over the next few weeks—and asked instead to go to an inexpensive local crafts market. She took us to a fantastic one spread throughout a local park. She explained that these vendors used to set up on the main downtown streets but the government wanted to get them off the roads so they gave them this space to use. On Saturdays, all the vendors went to a market near the town center, but the rest of the week they were set up here.

 

As we approached the market thousands of colorful batiks fluttered like kites in the wind. The market was filled with wooden carvings, masks, batiks, clothing and vendors eager to sell. There were far more peddlers than shoppers. The prices were excellent. I negotiated 50 small (14 inch by 6 inch) colorful batiks for $1.25 each. Casey will give them to his social studies class at school. I also purchased a dozen large (3 feet by 2 feet) batiks for $10 each and an ornate drummer carving. My dad bought his first cane. My mom found a dress for her sister and Casey got a ukulele and an ebony rhino. It was a shame that no other passengers from Nautica were there. The prices were excellent and the vendors were eager to sell. Our guide was getting nervous because she needed to get us back to the ship and pick up her next group.

 

I told her it was fine if we skipped the rest of the tour so we could just shop. She was relieved and gave us another 15 minutes. On the way back Atalie pointed out a dismal building, “This is the free public hospital. But it doesn’t work. If you are sick you need to go to the private hospital because the queue here is so long. Most Mozambique people don’t have the money it takes to go there so sometimes they die in the queue.”

 

“You mean people die waiting in that line?”

“Yes, it happens almost every day. Very sad,” she said shaking her head.

“How much does the private hospital cost?” I asked.

 

“At least one hundred US dollars for a visit. Sometimes more.” To me that sounded cheap. At home a hundred bucks might get you an aspirin in the emergency room.

 

“What does a policeman earn a month in Mozambique?”

 

“About ninety US dollars. The minimum salary in Mozambique is officially $78 a month, but many people earn less.” I hoped Casey was listening. His iPad was six-month wages for a policeman here. I had just spent three months local wages on give away souvenirs. One of the rewards of travel is increased consciousness of how fortunate we are in the first world. The UN estimates that 20% of the world’s population lives in extreme poverty. Many of them are from Africa.

 

When we arrived at the port gate the security guards wouldn’t let us back in. Atalie got agitated and we sat in our air-conditioned vehicle for about twenty minutes while the security guards and our guide argued back and forth. Phone calls were made, people arrive, fists were shaking and voices were raised. “I am so embarrassed by this,” Atalie explained. “What you are seeing is black racism against blacks. It is very bad here in Mozambique.” Eventually we were allowed back on to the ship.

 

“They don’t want us here. We are expensive cargo,” my dad quipped as the gate finally opened.

 

That afternoon my mom, dad and I were invited to join a trivia team. On Oceania daily trivia is a major event. Well over a hundred passengers gather together each afternoon and compete with each other for bragging rights and the ship’s currency: “O” points. A few nights ago my mom said, “Jack, I don’t know if we should play trivia this trip. I don’t know how your father will do… it’s something we’ve always enjoyed and I hate to keep taking things away from him, but I am worried he will just be frustrated.”

 

“It’s just trivia mom. There are lots of people who just sit there and don’t know many answers. I think we should do it.”

 

When we arrived at the Nautica Lounge my dad introduced himself to Karin, who put together the team we were invited to join, and humbly offered his “old, tired brain.”

 

The second question that day was, “Which ocean does the Paraguayan river in Bolivia flow towards.?” Most of our team thought it was the Atlantic, but my dad quietly said he thought it was the Pacific. My dad’s voice, like his height, is lower now. Karin was sitting next to him and said aloud, “Pete thinks it’s the Pacific.” Whether it’s because he is the oldest or everyone was being polite, the team eventually wrote down my father’s guess.

 

Later on in the game (there are usually 20 questions) the cruise director, Dottie, asked a particularly hard question. “What nation has the world has the second longest coast line?”

 

“It is Chile?” Someone asked.

 

“What about Argentina or the US?” Someone else suggested.

 

As the team debated my father quietly said, “I think it might be Indonesia.” Karin heard my dad and shushed everyone.

 

“Peter has a suggestion. What about Indonesia?” Our ten other teammates all looked at each other, nodding their heads, impressed by my dad’s guess. We wrote down Indonesia. When the totals were tallied we ended up tying for first place with 18 correct answers. We were the only team that answered Indonesia correctly. We would have had 19 had we known that a group of unicorns are called a blessing. I was so proud of my dad. He is a retired, well-regarded professor. Education, history and social studies are his expertise. Maybe knowing that Indonesia has the second longest coast line in the world isn’t that big a deal, but to me it felt like he has just completed an Iron Man marathon.

 

This morning I saw my dad in the gym, running on a treadmill. Not easy for a guy with Parkinson’s. He is doing everything he can to slow down his diseases. I have nothing but admiration and respect for the way he and my mom are facing his difficult descent into mindlessness and inertia. They have bad days, she gets frustrated, he gets depressed but they keep trying and some days, like today, they get little victories disguised as answers in a trivia game.

 

Thanks for reading,


Jack

[orchestrapal]

Yours is a most moving account of your parents beautifully dealing with aging.

We are married 49 years and very lucky to both be in very good health but very realistic about what the future might hold.

It sounds like your parents are a wonderful example of folks that do a great job of managing day to day ups and downs. Thank you for sharing these very meaningful experiences for all three of your families generations.:)

[Roger35]

Jack, I hope you meet Ron and Anne Dahl while on the cruise. We met them on a trip to India and had a good time with them. The safari sounds wonderful. We did one in 2005, and it was one of my favorite trips.

[JackfromWA]

Now that I’ve had a few sea days on Nautica I wanted to share some of my current impression about the ship, things I like and things that don’t. Many of you reading this are frequent Oceania guests, so please ignore those comments that are more useful for people considering an Oceania cruise.

 

PRECRUISE POSITIVES

I haven’t been on Oceania since 2008, so the cruise vacation guide I received a month before our trip was a welcome surprise. The guide is like a custom magazine that lists all the important ship officers, state room amenities, and a personalized deck plan that shows my cabin. It is also the most thorough and colorful ship shore excursion resource available.

 

I needed to call Oceania a few times before the cruise. My call was promptly answered, the representatives spoke excellent English and all my questions and requests were resolved.

 

PRECRUISE NEGATIVES

On this itinerary I was disappointed that the itinerary had to be changed. Going to Zanzibar was something I really wanted to do, and exchanging it for the Reunion islands didn’t appeal to me. Also, I wish the ship was spending more than 6 hours in Madagascar. It’s not much time to visit one of our most exotic ports. While I understand that safety comes first and concerns about piracy are valid, this was disappointing.

 

CABIN POSITIVES

Many things have improved since I was last aboard. In no particularly order the following come to mind:

1. Each cabin has a small, stocked fridge with complimentary water and soda refilled daily by the cabin attendant.

2. Bright LED reading lights have been added to the wall above the bed.

3. The bedding, linens and pillows are even more luxurious.

4. A shared DVD library with player in each room.

 

CABIN NEGATIVES

1. Bathrooms are small.

2. Closet and shelf space is limited.

3. Shower has low water pressure.

 

FOOD POSITIVES

1. Excellent, diverse menus in Grand Dining Room.

2. Reasonable sized (smaller) portions, with more food available immediately on request.

3. Stunning Versace china.

4. Outstanding complimentary specialty restaurants: Polo Grill (steak), Toscana (Italian)

5. Fresh fruit, berries, vegetables, breads, sorbets.

6. Great coffee and complimentary cappuccino

7. Overall food quality matching superior shoreside restaurants.

8. Lots of private open seating tables—you can sit when you want with whom you want.

 

FOOD NEGATIVES

1. Limited room service menu—particularly breakfast in standard cabins (Suites and concierge have a greater selection)

2. No fresh squeezed juices in dining rooms.

 

SERVICE POSITIVES

1. Fantastic cabin attendants.

2. Thoughtful, attentive and helpful restaurant staff.

3. Excellent excursion and purser staff.

 

SERVICE NEGATIVES

None.

I know it seems strange that I have no service complaints, but this is the area, in my opinion, where Oceania really distinguishes themselves from the competition. Their staff is simply amazing. They’re the best on the sea. Waiters open doors when your hands are full, cabin attendants anticipate your needs, purser staff offer innovative solutions and all of this happens consistently ship wide. I admit that I’ve occasionally had a distracted waiter, harried housekeeper or stressed out concierge. But we live in the real world and any organization that exemplifies services will have some days that are a little better than others. The top two reasons I love Oceania are service and food. They excel in both.

 

MISC. SHIP POSITIVES

1. The new MTN Internet is much faster.

2. There are no longer art auctions aboard.

3. There is no hawking of ship photos.

4. Soft drinks, water, Perrier are all complimentary.

5. Well-stocked book library.

 

MISC. SHIP NEGATIVES

1. Nautica lounge can be too crowded with poor viewing for popular events.

2. Internet is expensive ($400 for 800 minutes, 90¢ per minute without a package)

3. Shore excursions are expensive.

4. Spa is expensive.

 

A FEW MORE POSITIVES

I love that Oceania improved the Oceania Club. On my first cruise of 35-days I only got credit for (1) cruise. Now a 35-day equals (3) cruises and they made the change retroactive. More cruises give Oceania Club members more benefits and while Oceania still lags behind Regent (which gives free Internet, free phone calls and free laundry generously), the club definitely improved in benefits and how status is calculated.

 

This is a once-a-year thing, but I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the Christmas decorations. Nautica is simply beautiful. Walking around her is like being on Main Street in Disneyland. The staff have outdone themselves in tastefully decorating Nautica for the holidays. I’m enjoying spending Christmas and New Years at sea.

 

A FEW MORE NEGATIVES

I purchased a cruise long spa pass to use the Thalassotherapy pool and deck. The cost was $400 for the 35-days, which was prorated from my purchase date. On two of three occasions there was herbal tea available for relaxation, but no tea cups. I’ve mentioned it twice and it hasn’t changed. They still have tea but nothing to pour it in. I would expect this on Royal Caribbean, but on Oceania, it’s an anomaly. Since I’m paying extra for a premium service I’d like to have it.

 

My mother likes the alarm clock next to her bed. In the notebook in the cabin there is a list of ship items and the cost if you lose or take them. For example, a bathrobe is $88. At the bottom of the page it says, “if you would like to purchase these items, Oceania Cruises, Inc. is pleased to accommodate your request.” She wanted to give me the alarm clock for Christmas, and even though it costs $40, she is willing to pay it. She spoke to the concierge and front desk staff and was told that these can’t be sold. Fair enough, but if they can’t be sold, Oceania should remove the line on the pages with the price saying that the items are available for purchase.

 

Speaking of bathrobes, while I am on the largish size (260 lbs.) at least 15 - 20% of the other passengers on board share a similar or larger waistline. The bathrobes are definitely too small for people of our girth. I’d love a larger robe, and I know I’m not alone.

 

Overall I couldn’t be happier on board. The service and food are excellent and though I had one mediocre meal in the Grand Dining Room, the last two days have been excellent. Last night I enjoyed Grandma’s Lemon Meringue pie and it was as good as any I’ve ever tasted, my Dover Sole was exquisite and perfectly prepared and the service was stellar.

 

For those of your reading at home, I wish you were on Nautica with us. I am looking forward to a memorable Christmas and New Years holiday at sea.

 

Thanks for reading,

 

Jack

[Mparis184]

Jack, I should be traveling with you; we like to do and see the same things. I always make certain our tour guides take us to the local food and produce markets. It is a good opportunity to try foods that I have never seen before, some of it is also culture shock. Most tour groups never get to see that part of the local culture. I would have loved to meet the traditional healer at the Duma Zulu Cultural Village - and you even got his photo! If you can post the photo I would love to see it. I would like to know his secrets - our modern world can use them today. One of my hobbies is photography, especially taking shots of interesting people in the countries we visit.

 

I wish your Dad was on the Marina with us next month. We can use his expertise on our trivia team!

 

Marion

[dwelsh]

Fabulous prose Jack!!

 

Do you know the nationality mix of the pax on this cruise?

Have you requested an extra large robe?

Is the ship full?

Who runs the Trivia? Are the questions from US or UK sources?

 

Thanks in advance for the information. Continue to enjoy your incredible adventure.

[samsonmo]

Hi Jack, We sailed Nautica in April 2010 from Hong Kong-Athens with Dottie as CD. Looking at Capetown-Singapore in 2012 as we will sail on Prinsendam 33 days Buenos Aires-Ft Luaderdale via Falkland Islands-Antarctica-Chili-Peru-Ecuador- Panama-Aruba starting Feb 3. Enjoy the cruise on the fabolous Nautica. We had the best cruise ever at that time with the best crew as well.

Enjoy

Peter & Monica

[wmr]

Hi Jack,

 

We disembarked Nautica in Cape Town as you were boarding it. We had a great time on the Istanbul to Cape Town cruise. My wife, Isie, misses the 9:00 am needlepoint get togethers with Sukey and other ladies. Say hello to her and Dottie from us.

 

We also live in Bellingham, but are currently spending time with family in NJ. Will return to WA next Sunday. Hope the worst part of the Pac NW winter is behind us and that our home is still standing after the wind storms!

 

Thanks for posting your experiences on the safari and cruise. It makes Isie and I feel like we are taking a BTB cruise!

 

Bill

[JackfromWA]

A FEW REPLIES

 

Mo, I let Casey know not to feel bad about forgetting his iPad. He was thrilled to get it back!

 

OrchestralPal, it is a different trip with Casey. Overall better, but then Oceania wouldn’t be my first choice for a kid… but how else can I go to these ports with him and my parents. It’s great to see the world through his eyes! Yes, this is in part an account of aging. Didn’t know it would go there, but the writing went where it will.

 

Marebear, thanks. I think we were lucky on the safari.

 

Marion, I agree. We do feel blessed. And I didn’t even have to eat the impala poop. I am sure we would enjoy traveling together!

 

Joe, so nice to hear from you and glad that this will, in some small way, be a gift to you this Christmas season. Hopefully we will be on a ship at the same time someday.

 

Mura, you made me laugh. Thank heaven Casey didn’t try elephant poop!

 

Larry, thanks. Glad you enjoy the writing and don’t mind me writing about my dad. I want to keep this upbeat, and we are having a great trip, but the circumstances are what they are and his illness is part of this experience.

 

Roger, I have met Anne and Ron, they are lovely people.

 

DWelsh, I’d say 80% US citizens with a lot of Canadians and Australians. No, but I will see if they have larger robes. The ship is almost completely full—I heard there are just a few open cabins, and Dottie is running trivia using US sources.

 

 

2 SEA DAYS, MAYOTTE AND MADAGASCAR

 

The seas were fairly calm from Richards Bay to Mayotte. Casey spent most of his time in the swimming pool. The tropical sun got away from us and he developed a nasty sunburn. He and the only other kid on board, Anthony, had a great time in the ship’s pool, but their yelling, splashing and horseplay got on the nerves of some of the other guests. The pool is located in the center of the main outdoor deck, and many passengers read, sunbathe and go out there to relax. I got a very apologetic call from the concierge asking if I could talk to Casey about trying to act a little more calmly. The ship handled it perfectly—Casey wasn’t accused of doing anything inappropriate—they just wanted to see if a balance could be achieved between Casey’s desire to play and other guests desire to have a calm, tranquil sea day by the pool.

 

Overall I am so proud of Casey. It’s hard to believe that just three years ago he was classified by the state as requiring constant line-of-sight supervision in his foster home and almost placed in a self-contained classroom by Tacoma Public Schools. He was suspended 9 times in the fourth grade for disruptive behavior, stealing food, lying and running when adults tried to discipline him. The combination of amphetamines for his hyperactive behavior, and lack of attention from any parent, mentor or friend created a monster. Now he is sailing on one of the finest luxury ships in the world. A wealthy couple from Palm Beach, Florida approached me yesterday and complimented me for raising such a well-mannered son. If they only know where he came from and how he has changed… I suspect most people on the ship assume he comes from an affluent background. They probably assume I am divorced like so many people my age traveling alone with 12-year olds.

 

The truth is I am a single, gay adoptive dad, raising a neglected “throwaway” kid, making one last trip with a father entering the gates of dementia, aging and death. I love that we are taking this trip, seeing the world, visiting Africa, enjoying Oceania. Every time I see Casey drinking another milk shake, or see an older couple smiling indulgently at his exuberance and youth, it warms my heart. Every time I see him with my dad I am grateful that my father lived long enough to see me become a dad—that he knows the example he set, the love he unconditionally gave me, and the values he lived are now being passed on by me to another generation. We live through our deeds, our love and our children. Not all of our children are biological, and not all our families are traditional. All of us can fill the role of mother and father for each other, and no matter how old we are, or how loved or unloved we were by our parents, all of us sometimes need a mom and dad. I believe the universe gives us what we need and when the child is ready—no matter what age—the parent appears.

 

The sea days passed too quickly. Casey is doing needle point with Sukey. My dad wanted to do bridge but I think the mental strain was too much so he chose not to try. I don’t blame him. It’s hard to be bad at something you used to be good at. We play trivia every day and our team either wins or is near the top. Unlike most previous cruises my parents and I aren’t the reason we are winning, we are just on a great team. There are intertesting lecturers, first-rate cooking demonstrations from corporate executive chef Wolfgang Meier, a fantastic magician, hamburgers by the pool and ping pong, shuffleboard and golf. I haven’t done too many activities other than read (I just finished Richard Bach’s ferret stories Curious Lives, they were breath-taking and inspiring), write and take shore excursions.

 

I attended Captain Jurica Brajcic’s lecture on piracy. Captain Brajcic was the commander the day Nautica was attacked by pirates in 2008. The CEO of Oceania, Frank Del Rio’s, parents were aboard during the incident. When Mr. Del Rio called the ship after the pirates were repelled to make sure his parents were OK, they finally located his dad at Waves Grill eating. When they handed him the phone he said, “Leave us alone Frank. This is the most fun we’ve had on a cruise!” When Frank told me that story I envisioned his father as the actor who plays Everybody Loves Raymond’s dad.

 

The captain discussed our change in itinerary and stressed that all the guests are safe. He did say that there are some security measures that are obvious, such as extra watches, and other that are present that we are not aware of. I am a military veteran and believe any observant law enforcement officer or ex-soldier paying attention will notice certain security measures on the ship. I’m not going to write about any of them as I want Nautica to every tactical advantage possible and though I believe we are safe, it isn’t in our interests for me to describe the security measures I’ve observed or suspect. I believe we are safe. I have no serious concerns and feel we are in good hands.

 

A few nights ago at dinner Sukey was trying to encourage Casey to try new dishes. “Would you like some red snapper, Casey? He shook his head no. “How about the free range chicken?” He declined. “What about this Casey. They have Colorado rack of lamb.”

 

“Lamb!” He yelled too loudly for the dining room. “Who do you think I am?” He looked so disgusted at the thought of eating lamb I burst out laughing. It’s a good thing he doesn’t know the origin of his veal meatballs or foie gras ravioli.

 

We didn’t make any excursion plans before arriving in Mayotte. In hindsight I wish we had taken the ships tour that went to the botanical garden and perfume factory. The local tourism representatives onboard ship said we could hire a cab for four hours for 80 euros. From my cabin window, Mayotte looked beautiful, but as our tender grew closer I could see that the market near the pier wasn’t that clean and the streets were teeming with people. Despite the bright colored pier walls and a few modern looking buildings the people and the city looked quite poor. We had to walk though the market in the 90-degree humid heat to get to the cab station. Because so many other passengers were also trying to get cabs the rates were 100 euro for a cab if you could find one, and they were subcompact size. None of them seemed to have air conditioning.

 

“I want to go back, Dad. I don’t like it here.”

 

“What’s wrong Casey? This is the only time in your life that you’ll ever be in Mayotte and we’re only here for a few hours.”

 

“It smells bad, it’s too hot and the people talk funny.”

 

“They’re speaking French.”

 

“I still don’t like it. Why can’t they speak English?” Between the heat and his sunburn Casey was grumpy. I hoped it wouldn’t ruin our day.

 

We spent about 20 minutes hustling for a cab. We finally got a driver and set off. Casey was cramped in the backseat between my parents looking miserable. We passed many thin aluminum walled homes on litter strewn roads set against the picturesque ocean background. The people were poor, housing was primitive but the natural setting was fantastic.

 

“How much longer is this tour dad?”

 

“About two more hours.”

 

“That might be about two hours too long,” my mom whispered to him. Our “guide” was a sullen local who spoke no English. He seemed to delight in speeding up to get as close as possible to the car in front of him, slam on the brakes then watch my mother’s reaction. In the first ten miles he came within a foot of hitting a kid on a bicycle and almost rear ended a delivery while talking on his cell phone. I turned his radio down and attempted to discourage him from using his phone while driving. I wasn’t successful. We finally stopped at a beach. He pantomimed that we should get out of the car.

 

“Make sure you get everything Jack,” my dad warned.

 

“Don’t worry. You didn’t raise me to leave anything valuable unattended in the car.”

 

“I didn’t raise you to do lots of things—it didn’t mean you didn’t do them.”

 

The beach was surrounded by Baobob trees. Casey climbed the roots of the largest. He was at least 10 feet up before the roots came together. Some of the branches were as large as a small car. The tree was inspiring. Unfortunately it was marked all over with graffiti. We left the beach and drove to a diving spot. Our guide stopped about a half mile from the beach where a man stood at a gate blocking the road to the sea. He motioned for us to get out of the car and walk down to the ocean. We trekked down and when I got to the bottom realized there were at least 30 cars there.

 

“That guy at the gate was collecting parking money!” I said. “Our guide made us walk down in this heat to save a couple euros!” I was really annoyed. It was bad enough for me, but my dad isn’t walking as well as he used to—his depth perception is poor—and I am trying to limit his motion and opportunity to fall as much as possible.

 

The beach was beautiful, but we are heading to the Seychelles and Maldives in the next few weeks, so I wasn’t eager to spend time at a beach. There were some lemurs there, and I watched a young girl climb a tree and attempt to feed them.

 

“Are we almost done?” Casey asked. He didn’t care about the beach or the lemurs.

 

“I think so. Aren’t you having fun?”

 

“No, not really. This place makes Tacoma look like a dream land.” I stifled a smile. One of my hopes in taking him on this cruise is that he could discover that as hard as his life in foster care and before was, that there are many people in the world living in far worse conditions.

 

As we made our way in the hot taxi back to the dock we could see Nautica floating like a jewel in the azure blue sea. “Looks like an oasis, doesn’t it Casey?”

 

“I don’t know… what’s that?”

 

“An oasis? It’s when you’re in a hot, boring desert and come to a place with water, figs and shade surrounded by sand as far as you can see.”

 

“Yep, it’s an oasis. Can I get a milk shake when we get back?”

 

I don’t know how much Casey absorbed about the poverty in Mayotte, but I know he saw it, and I know it made him appreciate where we live. That evening at trivia Karin asked me, “Do you know how many people are getting of the ship tomorrow?”

 

“Two hundred?”

 

“No. Four hundred! Four hundred passengers all getting off at the same time.” I winced.

 

“That’s as bad as when we went to the pyramids!” I replied.

 

“I know, it’s going to be crazy.” With two thirds of the ship tendering in to see Madagascar it was going to be a hectic morning. Our tours all began around 7 a.m. The ship needed to depart by 1 p.m. in order to have time to travel 700 nautical miles to the Reunion islands. This only left the morning to see Madagascar. I was disappointed by how short our stay was. As far as I was concerned we could have skipped Mayotte and spent extra time in Madagascar.

 

The next morning the Nautica lounge was packed full. I waited about fifteen minutes to get our tender tickets. We were told to be in the lounge at 7:20. We were on time. We didn’t get called to leave the ship until 8:00 o’clock. When we reached the dock in Nosy Be I grew concerned. We had to take a small boat from Nosy Be to see the lemurs in Nosy Komba and the dock was rusted, missing planks and had no hand rails.

 

Nautica staff has set up sun umbrellas and encouraged everyone to grab bottled water as we headed ashore. I appreciated their thoughtfulness as we waited a little over 45 minutes for our boat. I was in group 17—the last group. I don’t know how things were organized but clearly the size of our crowd overwhelmed the tourism resources available to transport us all to see the lemurs. The ships general manager, Carol Gunetti, personally assisted the ship excursion and local staff to try to accommodate all of us as quickly as possible. He apologized to us several times for the challenges with the dock and for the length of time we had to wait. Although the ride from Nosy Be to Nosy Komba was only twenty minutes, it took us two and a half hours from the time we met in the Nautica lounge to actually arrive at the black lemur sanctuary. The local tender could only get about 15 feet from the shore, so we needed to take off our shoes and wade in. In the past this wouldn’t have been a problem, but I was worried about my dad. It takes him a while to put on his socks and tie his shoes, and if we had known that we would be wading ashore he could have brought his waterproof sandals instead of leather loafers. He did fine. And once my anxiety about getting him ashore eased I started to notice how beautiful Nosy Komba is.

 

The island was lush with green vegetation, clear blue water, and up and down the shoreline were small boats in front of grass and wood huts. It was as pretty as any postcard As we arrived children sang local songs and danced, welcoming us to their homes. Though the village was geared to tourists, it was where the people around us lived. As we passed different huts, most displaying hand embroidered table cloths or intricate island carving, I could see their living quarters just beyond the goods on display.

 

We were one of the last groups to arrive at the lemur sanctuary. The hundreds of previous passengers that morning had already fed the lemurs. They weren’t interested in coming down and taking a banana from Casey, or posing for photographs. Although I’d hoped to see more lemurs—I only saw about ten total—I still enjoyed watching them in their natural habitat. Our guide did all he could to make the lemurs move, he even shook their tree, but it was soon obvious that the lemurs were having a quiet day.

 

“I don’t think this was worth the trip,” one lady complained.

 

“Those lemurs certainly aren’t very interesting,” her companion added.

 

“I think the ship should give us our money back if this is all we’re going to see. It’s certainly much more interesting to watch monkeys in Gibraltar than these lemurs!”

 

While I sympathized with them, I disagreed. We were in their home and if the lemurs wanted to rest, it really wasn’t our business to force them into putting on a show for us. I’m glad I went to see the lemurs. I’ll be the first to admit that if I really wanted a quality, intimate lemur experience that going into a small sanctuary with hundreds of other passengers is not the way to do it. But that’s part of cruising. There are advantages such as not having to pack and unpack every day, and disadvantages such as having limited time in ports and having to share that time with all the other guests.

 

Beside the lemurs the sanctuary featured boa constrictors and chameleons. Casey and I held a snake and he was fascinated by the green chameleon crawling up and down his arm.

While I heard a little complaining about the trip I heard far more compliments. “We loved it!” Anthony’s mother, Patricia, said.

 

“How did you like the lemurs, Casey?” Our neighbors asked him. Casey grinned and gave two big thumbs up in reply. All in all I recommend the tour. The villagers didn’t push too hard to have us buy things, the beach was beautiful and it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see lemurs in their native environment.

 

When we returned to the ship Casey couldn’t wait to check his Christmas stocking. Sukey brought him one and I mounted it to our door. Everyday different people put things into it. I secretly left him a leather Nautica bookmark and a candy cane. My mom dropped in a few truffles. Yesterday someone left him three Godiva chocolates and today he got $5 and Hermes lotions and shampoo! Only on Nautica would he get Godiva and Hermes in his Christmas stocking. If I thought it would work I’d put out a stocking for me too!

 

My dad has good days and bad. Today I noticed my mom talking to a fellow passenger on the tender. The man looked a little older than my dad and they were having a pleasant conversation. She didn’t notice but I saw my dad watching them. He wasn’t jealous, but he was sad. He knows he has lost some of the qualities my mom enjoys, like intelligent conversation, and he knows he won’t ever be the person he used to be again. I want to hold him and tell him that no matter what happens, no matter how he changes, that the essence of who he is, his character, his soul, his spirit—all of these are intact. He could be drooling, incontinent and mindless and my love for him would be unwavering. He earned our families loyalty and love decades ago. Yes, we are sad. My two brothers and sister that aren’t here are sad too. We miss things the way they used to be, but isn’t that the nature of life: birth, death, repeat? Things change. Things we love go away, new things arrive—we just have to look for them. I can’t take this walk for my dad. Not only that, he wouldn’t let me if I could. He wants me to live my life as best I can and allow him the freedom to meet this new chapter on his own. I can stand by him, I can support him, I can support my mom, but the journey he is on now is mostly a solitary one and though I’d ease the burden if I could, it’s his to walk alone.

 

Thanks for reading,

 

Jack

[Marebear]

You end the stories of your trip by saying "Thanks for reading". I say "Thank you" for posting them - they are wonderful and make me feel good reading them!

[CintiPam]

Jack, I am overwhelmed by the contents of this thread. I did not look at it previously because the destinations named in the title are not on my list of places I plan to visit in the next few years. However, with your thread being at the top of the page today, I pressed the button.

 

I became entranced from your very first post, not because of the vivid descriptions of your destinations but from both your extraordinary facility with words and the meaning of this voyage for you, a wonderful story of a true family appreciating their time together.

 

I look forward to more installments. Thank you for taking the time to share your family with us. Blessings to all of you this holiday season.

 

Pam

[monina01]

yay you are back! I followed your thread last time and even got your book.

 

I will follow this thread, just like I did last time. Though this time, with a feeling of great sadness.

At the time of your last trip with your parents, I was doing research for my own trip. Never been on a cruise before, everything was new to me. Your thread gave me the inspiration to do a cruise with my own father. When I was 8 years old, my mother, took me back to Holland and from that point on, I only saw my father once a year, during summer vacation in the USA. Reading your story, I felt how much it meant to you to able to make that trip with your parents and I wanted to do the same.

 

A favorite author of mine starts one of her books with one of the characters saying to the main character: "Do you know what the two saddest words in the English language are?". She jokes around a little and says: "Boo and hoo?". He then says "the two saddest words in the English language are 'if only' ".

 

Now I am reading your thread again, reading about your father and your thoughts and feelings about this, and I am thinking "if only"......

 

I never got to do my cruise with my father. At the time I had to save, as I did not have the money. Then, my father is such a procrastinator.....

We were almost set to book a cruise and were supposed to go in May 2011. And now it is too late. He was diagnosed with ALS this year in february and he is going down fast. So much faster than other people with ALS. He does not have long to live, maybe a month, probably less. And I think: "if only".

 

I recognise when you write about the sadness and the anger and wanting to have your dad back the way he was. But Jack, I am so happy for you that you made that wonderfull trip 2 years ago and I am happy for you that you are doing this now. You will never have to think "if only" as you are doing this now, and even though your dad is not the way he was, this is such a special time and I am sure it will be remembered by you, always.

 

Enjoy a wonderfull cruise on Oceania. Even if communication with your dad is more difficult than it was, just enjoy eachothers company, enjoy the time with Casey as he will remember this as something special too and enjoy Oceania. I have never been on Oceania, but after reading all about Oceania, I think this is the best place for you to be.

 

Make each day count!

 

And keep on writing.......I love reading your adventures...(no prickly heat this time?:)).

[wripro]

Jack,

 

Not only are you an inspiration as a human being you are an excellent writer who knows how to engage his readers with a combination of information and entertainment, not an easy feat. I look forward to your posts and appreciate the time and effort you are taking to include us in your trip. Thank you.

[cathi]

Jack - I stumbled on this thread and just knew it would be great!! Really glad you have this wonderful trip with your parents! and having your son with you makes it all that more special.

 

Look forward to reading more.

 

I see Sukey is back with you again. Does this mean it will become a another book?? Put me down for a copy!!! That last one is a treasured in our house.

 

Enjoy

Cathi

[Paulchili]

Jack,

I missed the posts from your last voyage but I had heard about it on these boards like an urban legend.

I just returned home and caught up with this report and there is no way I will miss any of it and will look forward to every posting. It is like reading a book that you cannot put down. Your story is inspirational in so many ways - you will have no regrets when your parents are no longer around and you are giving your son an experience he will remember for the rest of his life.

I will continue to follow your trip and travel with you vicariously. We have visited all these places before, either on land trips or cruises, before Oceania included this itinerary - I wish we had waited.

Please keep your posts coming!

I wish you fair winds, following seas and many adventures along the way.

Paul

[Aussie Gal]

Jack,

 

Cathi told me about your thread and of course from now on I will be reading it every day. We too went to Sabi Sands but stayed at Arathusa in May, just before we did our Captetown to Dover cruise on the Ocean Princess. Reading about your time at Kirkman's has brought back so many happy memories of our Game Drive and the wonderful animals we were so lucky to see.

 

I am so sorry to hear about your Dad's condition. I am sure this cruise will be a wonderful memory for you, your mother and Casey.

 

Once again the itinerary you are doing is on my wish list. I just wish it wasn't cruising over Christmas as that is a special time for us here at home.

 

Jennie

[JackfromWA]

A FEW REPLIES

 

Monina, your words have haunted me. Thank you for sharing your story. My heart goes out to you. As you’ll see in the next post, unfortunately, I think we are sharing many of the same feelings. I don’t have any brilliant words of wisdom. I wish I could help you ease your pain, and it’s my hope that perhaps by me sharing my story at least you’ll know in some ways you aren’t alone. You and your father are in my thoughts and my heart goes out to you.

 

Marebear, you are welcome and thanks for the kind words.

 

CintiPam, Blessings to you this holiday season too. Thanks for following along.

 

Wipro, thanks for the kind words. I don’t think my next post is too entertaining so hopefully you might skip it and wait for the next one! In any case, thank you.

 

Cathi, so great to hear from you! I don’t think this will be a book, but it’s been great fun to connect and write onboard again.

 

Paul, thank you for the wishes. So far we have had fair winds, pleasant seas and good adventures.

 

Aussie Gal, so great to hear from you too! I agree it’s a tough time to be away from home, but it’s the only time I could do it. Have a Merry Christmas!

 

 

REUNION ISLAND

 

The good news about Reunion Island is that most passengers I spoke to had a great time. The bad news is that it just wasn’t our day. The island is gorgeous and features a volcano, waterfalls, surfing, well-maintained roads, fine restaurants and friendly locals. I researched the options for Reunion Island and decided to rent a car and drive out to the volcano. I rented from Hertz and the price of 60 euros for the day seemed reasonable.

 

When my parents came to my cabin this morning I discovered I had thrown away an envelope last night with 200 euros in it. The money was in a shore excursion envelope that I carelessly tossed it in the trash. The wastebaskets in our cabin are emptied twice daily and on a ship this size finding my envelope with 200 euros gives new meaning to the idea of looking for a needle in a haystack.

 

As hard as I tried to let go of my frustration, my frustration at my carelessness colored my attitude. When we walked off the ship we discovered at least 80 other passengers trying to get taxis. Two local tourism representatives tried to assist us, but their English was poor and their resources were as slim as the cabs. After about 40 minutes finally shared a cab with 4 other passengers to get to the Hertz office. As we left the port area, we passed a Hertz office that I didn’t know existed—the one I chose was 20 miles away. Casey was chattering incessantly about Christmas, the heat, why people speak French and when could we go back onboard. He loves being on the ship and now views most shore excursions as annoying interruptions from his time on Nautica. It’s hard to get him enthused about museums, scenery and shopping after our safari.

 

We arrived at the Hertz office and waited another half hour in a clammy office while the agent helped one other customer. I had forgotten how long paperwork sometimes takes in ports. It wasn’t as bad as getting a SIM card in India, but it felt familiar. I had brought two CD’s, one of Christmas music and the other some classical music that my dad enjoys. I imagined us driving to the famous volcano, listening to beautiful music, enjoying each other’s company and getting into the holiday spirit. Christmas is in two days, and it’s been hard to feel the spirit of the season in the heat of Africa. The CD player in the car didn’t work. I went back in to see if I was doing something wrong, but the agent couldn’t get music to play either and no other car was available. Shrugging it off we set out along the beautiful seacoast. The blue water shimmered in the tropical sun and I started to get excited by the beauty.

 

“Does this remind you of any place Dad?”

 

He was slow to respond. His voice is softer now from the Parkinson’s and it’s more difficult to hear him. “It looks a little like the California coast.”

 

“That’s what I was thinking too! Somewhere north of Santa Barbara and south of Hearst Castle.”

 

“My stomach hurts!” Casey complained.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“It hurts!”

 

“Are you nauseous? Do you have cramps?”

 

“I feel like puking!” He said.

 

“I feel a little carsick too,” my dad said. The road we drove wove along the meandering coastline and there were two more hours of scenic windy roads to reach the volcano.

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t go to the volcano…” I suggested. My mom caught my eye and nodded silently in agreement.

 

“Why don’t we drive to St-Leu and try to find your dad an optometrist?” She suggested. My dad had three errands to accomplish: fixing his glasses, finding a small pair of scissors and getting a haircut. He is mostly bald and didn’t want to pay for a barber on the ship. St-Leu was a charming seaside town. I dropped my parents off at an eyeglass shop on the narrow main street while I tried to find a parking place with. The shopkeeper fixed his glasses, refused to charge him and gave him directions to a barber.

 

“He told us he doesn’t get too many American visitors,” my mom said. “He was really nice. He had really long dreadlocks and when he saw your fathers hair length he laughed, but he told us where to find a barber.” As we walked down the village street we noticed a large stone church. “Let’s go in,” I suggested. Reunion Island is predominantly Catholic and my parents used to enjoy visiting cathedrals in Europe. It was a simple chapel. Two women prayed in the front and candles were lit all around the perimeter. The only stained glass was a dove of peace set in an archway over the entrance. It felt good being there. We couldn’t find the barber so we decided to drive to the next town, St-Louis. Maybe the day will get better, I thought.

 

When we get to the rental car, my dad couldn’t get his legs in. It was only about 8 inches from the sidewalk to the doorframe, but he lost the ability to lift his high enough to get in the car. Just a few weeks ago he was able to climb into a Land Rover on safari, but now he needed help. My mom and I exchanged glances, both of us struggling with this new dimension of his condition.

 

I tried to keep my feelings in check but it was hard. My mom was wonderful with him, she gently lifted his ankles and positioned him in his seat, but it was obvious to both of us that something was wrong. When my dad was out of earshot I pulled her aside, “Maybe it’s the heat?” I suggested.

 

She shook her head, “I don’t think so. I think it’s the disease. He is so stiff and sore now. The last few days have been really difficult for him… I’m glad this isn’t our Hong Kong to Athens trip. There were so many interesting ports and I don’t think he can do them anymore.” I knew this trip wasn’t going the same as our 35-day trip from Hong Kong to Athens in 2007. No two trips are ever the same, even if you travel the same ground, but I had hoped that we could recapture some of the joy we had then. In a way we have. We are together, making the best of circumstances as they are, but now my mom and I are watching my father slip away with the passing of days and weeks. I talk to other passengers my dad’s age, I watch them causally eat their dinners, talk to their wives, swim in the pool and I feel anger and grief. Why can’t my dad have that? Why can’t he still talk and walk like he used to? Why does he have to slip away from us a day at a time. The worst thing about a disease like Lewy Body’s is that I know what’s coming, but I secretly hope that in my dad’s case it will be different. That he will wake up one day the man he was at 75. And though my mind knows that won’t happen, my heart believes he will never die, that things won’t change, that he will always be there capable, vital and strong.

 

We arrived in St. Louis and I spotted a barber ship. I escorted my dad in. We were the only white men in the shop. The dark skinned locals looked at us strangely, but they scooted over and made room on the couch. They made us feel welcome. Most of the barbers and customers were under 25, tattooed, wearing gold chains and slapping their hands together in strange, elaborate hand shakes, but the man behind the register was in his 50’s and he came over and made sure my dad was next on the list for a haircut. We sat in front of a flat screen TV watching images of black rappers in Florida surrounded by seductive women and expensive yachts. Outside the barbershop door was 12-foot sign advertising Johnny Walker Red. All I could see was sex and alcohol and the young men around me enjoying both. As the TV flashed from sexy young bodies to parties my dad asked me a question.

 

“So you didn’t know my father met your grandpa?” My mom had been telling Casey about my dad’s father in the car.

 

“No, I didn’t.”

 

“They came over the first Christmas your mother and I were married. We went to your grandparents in Chehalis. I said goodbye to my father in early January. By the end of the month he was dead,” the buzzing of the air conditioning and rap music made it hard to hear, but I struggled to get every word.

 

“How did he die?” I never knew my dad’s father. He died four years before I was born. I only knew my dad’s mother as a widow. She died almost 40-years later than her husband.

 

“His intestine ruptured. They took him to this hospital but they couldn’t save him.” My dad’s eyes welled up. I didn’t know if he was crying or if it was from his medication. His eyes water all the time now and he sometimes stares off vacantly into space.

 

All the time I’ve known my dad, all the years he raised his kids are after the death of his father. I can’t imagine living that much life without my dad. It hasn’t been till the last few years when his mortality has become stark, inevitable and unavoidable that I’ve started to struggle with the natural reality that soon he will be gone and I will remain. In my effort to cope I’ve read books, talked to therapists and shared my feelings with my family and friends.

 

After the haircut my dad slept in the car. He had no energy. We got lost going back to the ship, but eventually I found it. I dropped my parents and Casey off at the dock and I went to return the rental car. Feelings washed over me and I pulled to the side of the road crying. I needed time to grieve the gradual loss of the man I admire more than any other. I’m wise enough to know that no one will ever replace my dad.

 

The beauty of the island, the frustration of losing the money, all were eclipsed today by what happened with my dad. I know this is a sad story—not what you expect in a travel commentary, but if you’ve stuck with it this long you’re either a friend or a kindred spirit. I can’t sign off without saying how good life is. Many years ago I was hurt so badly I vowed never to feel again. Now I am grateful for all the feelings—the more intense they are the more I believe they help me develop and grow. The only “bad” feelings are the repressed ones. I’m spending time with my son, I’m showing him how to treat his elders, I’m helping my mom as she experiences the same feelings I do, and the depth of my gratitude for my opportunity to be on a cruise now knows no bounds. We are surrounded by kind people, compassionate staff and an easy world to navigate—I don’t think life gets much better than enjoying it with people you love on Oceania—and I know I’ve been richly blessed to be here.

 

My dad will be OK. Carl Jung says life is a short pause between two great mysteries. By definition a mystery is unknown, but I know in my soul, as surely as I know my father loves me, that death and disease won’t end our relationship. The ties that truly bind us are greater than time and space. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and sometime after a superb dinner I’ll take Casey to my mom and dad’s cabin so we can hear him read us the Christmas story like he’s done every Christmas Eve I can remember.

 

Thanks for reading.

 

Jack

[cathi]

Jack - I have tears in my eyes as I read this and truly sympathize with you. I lost my dad a year and half ago after 3 long years of the aftereffects of a massive stroke. My dad was, all my growing up years, a big active man and those last 3 years were agony for me as he was confined to a wheelchair and developed dementia. It was the hardest thing I've ever gone through watching him and knowing I was losing him. I still miss him terribly but in a way I'm glad he doesn't have to suffer through the indiginities that come with dementia. Enjoy watching Casey interact with him. You are giving him a valuable lesson in life. And you are allowed to rant & rave at the injustice of it all.

 

Keep your chin up!

Cathi

[dwelsh]

Jack: You are a person that Betty and I would love to share time with. You certainly are able to share your deepest feelings and that is a great gift.

 

Tell your dad that he shouldn't be concerned over the price of a haircut, tell him the cost is really a "finder's fee! That's what I tell my barber anyway!!

 

Very best wishes for a Very Happy Xmas with your loved ones and your very fortunate shipmates.

[Aussie Gal]

Jack,

 

I too had tears in my eyes and your story brought back so many memories of my lovely father who suffered a massive stroke a year before he passed away. For a man who loved people, life and enjoyed good food and wine, to not be able to talk or eat other than through a plug in his stomach, it was the cruelest way to finish life. Every day I prayed that he would go as his quality of life was finished. I will never know if he knew and heard what we were saying to him each time we visited him. He was a wonderful father and you at least have that time to tell your Dad how much you love him. I wish I had said to him many times before his stroke happened, those simple words "I love you Dad".

 

Jennie

[rubysue]

Hi, Jack -

 

I have been reading your story every day and wanted to give you my appreciation for sharing, as I wipe away tears. My Dad passed away in June, 2008 at the grand old age of 94. I miss him so much - he was so full of life that the hospice has kept a copy of his obituary in their office. My Mom, at the age of 79, had a massive stroke just before Christmas in 2006 and passed away in early January, 2007. My Dad, who never expected to outlive my Mom, was completely bereft (they had been married almost 57 years). We (I and my DH), as his only surviving close relatives, did everything we could for him and made a momentous decision shortly after my Mom's passing to take him with us on a 10-day Mediterranean cruise (we had booked the cruise for ourselves on Disney Magic the year before). He couldn't see well and could only walk short distances with a walker, but we all had an absolutely marvelous time. He turned 93 in Monte Carlo, Monaco, one of the few European countries that he had not visited with my Mom. Before he passed, we also took him to Las Vegas, on a cruise on the American Queen (miss that cruise line) and on a combination Disney World/Disney Wonder trip, plus he went to many local events with us. He and my Mom did 44 cruises together; they would have loved Oceania cruise line.

 

Another part of your story that resonates with me was your time doing safaris in South Africa. We did a land trip to southern Africa in 2009 and the absolute highlight were the three days spent in Kruger National Park on the private Shishengani reserve, doing two marvelous 3-hour game drives every day. A lifetime experience!

 

I don't mean to focus on my story, but it feels right for me to tell it, as so many other folks have done on this thread. Cherish your memories - I sincerely hope and pray that your father does not get worse on this trip. It does sound like he is having more difficulty as the trip progresses. My Dad was obviously not feeling well on the last trip we made together and he was diagnosed with leukemia shortly after we returned.

 

Have a good Christmas and I hope your journey continues successfully.

[WesW]

Bravo Jack! Absolutely terrific thread, thank you sincerely for sharing your adventure with us. I nominate this thread (OP) as the CC thread of the year.