Review of Celebrity Galaxy -- Club Med Style, Summer 2006

[LrdNorman]

I am currently writing a book on my wife's and my trials and tribulations of sailing on the Celebrity Galaxy last summer in Italy as well as touring the Italian countryside.

 

If anyone has any questions, I will be glad to answer them to the best of my knowledge (after I consult the notes I took during the trip).

 

We had a great time and toured the cities of Venice, Portofino, Rome, Sorrento/Capri/Pompeii, Mykonos, Santorini, Sicily, Cannes/Monaco, Florence/Pisa, and Murano.

 

Here is the link if you'd like to read it.

 

http://boards.cruisecritic.com/showthread.php?t=520269

 

Our trip was amazing and the ship was clean, fun and the food was fantastic. Despite some of the negative comments left by various people concerning the ship's "age," we found it in very good shape and a nice way to have a vacation.

 

Let me know what you think!

 

Kevin

[LrdNorman]

Here is part of my travelogue I am writing. These are rather long, but hopefully there are some nuggets of things to do and mistakes my wife and I have made to help anyone travelling to the Mediterranean on Celebrity's Galaxy.

 

In this section, my wife and I got on the boat after touring Rome, Portofino and Venice before the cruise.

 

I hope you all enjoy. If there are any questions I can answer, please do not hesitate to ask!

 

Chapter Seven

The next morning, after stretching to shake off the stiffness created by the box spring mattress that had no box springs, we packed our stuff, eager to get on the cruise ship. After a week of hauling our stuff from city to city like gypsies, we were excited to be able to call one place “Home” for awhile, have good, hot meals and not have to worry about curfews, pickpockets, or plugging in hairdryers and curling irons. Life is good on a cruise ship.

We booked Angel Tours for an excursion of the Roman Forum and Colosseum. Again, Angel Tours is phenomenal at half the price of other tour groups. They are professional, knowledgeable and extremely personable. I cannot rave enough about them.

We headed down toward the Colosseum since it was only a few blocks from Il Rosario. Upon arriving at the Colosseum about 45 minutes early, we stumbled upon a very pleasant find, a subway. Little did we know that this place would be busier than usual.

Since we had some time to kill, we walked down the Via Dei Fori Imperiali toward the Roman Forum ruins; we again see tons of people headed past us toward what seems to be a commotion. We stop and take some pictures of the Forum ruins and then continue on toward the commotion. Ashley’s too busy taking pictures to concern herself with the uprising. The further we got to the uproar, the louder the noise got.

“You go on ahead, Kevin and see what’s going on. I’m going to take some more pictures.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you?”

“Nah,” she said as she continued photographing a stray cat posing in the morning sun. Even the cats around here think they are royalty.

I walked down to where the commotion was and saw taxis as far as the eye could see parked and blocking off a major highway in front of the Piazza Venezia. The taxi drivers were chain smoking and talking casually to each other while the police officers were standing around watching them, chain smoking as well. It looked like they were filming a movie and nobody had any clue what was going on.

I saw a very rotund and beastly, yet affable gladiator (well, one dressed as a gladiator) and I approached him to ask him if he knew what was going on. If anyone knows what is going on in the city, it is the gladiator. Plus, he was the only one around who was looking like he was doing something.

“You like picture?” he asked and proceeded to reach to pull me in so that I was caught and couldn’t get away, much like the lions. He almost succeeded, but my cat-like reflexes dodged a grab-and-pay. Interestingly, he talked just like a gladiator. Maybe it was his missing teeth that inhibited his speech. His face looked more like a hockey player’s face, but his body was shaped like a man who lived through Caligula’s reign.

“Uh, no thanks. What is going on? Do you know?” I asked in very slow English since I didn’t know anything in Italian and gave up trying.

“Si, da taxis is strike. You like picture?” He poses and reaches again.

“Maybe in a few minutes,” I dodge again. I feel like a prizefighter ducking and weaving Muhammad Ali. “Do you know how long they will be on strike?”

“Dis third time in week. Could be week, could be hour. You like picture?”

I headed off before he could catch me to report back to Ashley who was headed my way. I reported what Caligula Jr. had told me. We walked back to where Mr. Gladiator was standing.

“You like picture?” he asked and reached out for Ashley. I stepped in and he quickly grabbed onto me with a tight grip, handed me his plastic sword and then threw his hands up as if he was surrendering. Since I have been trained to take a hint (it comes with being a husband), I pose with him as if I am going to stab him. Ashley takes enough pictures to her satisfaction and I begin to walk toward her. His speech miraculously changes.

“You know I work for tips. €5.00 please,” and as if by magic, I thought I heard violins playing ominous sounding music and his tone changes from congenial to menacing. He could easily play a Mafia don with his deep voice that just got an octave lower. I suddenly felt like I was seven years old again and he was the school bully taking my lunch money

I paid him quickly and he changed characters again and smiled with most of his teeth toward Ashley. “You like picture?” he asked he and grabbed onto her, thrust the plastic sword in her hand and raised his hands in the “Touchdown” signal.

After taking our pictures and he taking our money, we headed back down to where the tour was meeting and met up with our tour guide and his surprise guest.

Henry again!

When he saw Ashley, his eyes lit up like the candles on Hugh Hefner’s birthday cake. He sauntered over toward her and I could tell she was just as shocked as he was. I secretly wondered if he would appear on the cruise ship. If so, I was going to have him carry our luggage.

The tour guide was a history major and he talked very fast. I had a hard time keeping up with him, but he seemed to be very excited to have someone taking notes of his lecture instead of the other way around.

Before we went on the trip, Ashley and I took a class at our church about the history of Christianity. The most fascinating thing about this particular tour was all of the information the tour guide made referenced what we learned in that class.

He took us through the Roman Forum first which was built around the time of Constantine. The tour guide told us background information on Constantine (he was a Christina at a time it was illegal to be Christian) and through the Arch of Titus, a celebratory archway which celebrated the victory over Jewish people in Jerusalem. The remaining wall from the destruction of all of the temples during this battle is the Wailing Wall. After the victory over the Jews, Titus carried a menorah during the parade to let the illiterate people of Rome know that they defeated the Jews. Sort of like an early version of CNN.

The tour guide showed us the Basilica Nova which was the prototype for Michelangelo’s dome over the Vatican. During our walks, the history major explained that the Roman Forum was claimed to be possessed in order to keep people from going to these “Pagan” temples, a tactic used by Roman leaders. What was also fascinating was the fact that the Roman Forum was below the modern street in front of it. Centuries of rocks and dirt compiled to make the current Rome over ten feet taller than Caesar’s Rome.

Another fascinating thing about this time period was the role that women played in government. Daughters of nobles could become vestal virgins whose sole job was to make sure that the flame in the Roman Forum was not burned out. If it did burn out, they would be burned alive. The benefits of being a vestal virgin was that they could overrule any emperor, judge or jury and they could free slaves because they were considered holy and pure. However, the only other “job” requirement was that they had to remain celibate for their entire life. If they did engage in sexual relations with anyone, they would be burned alive. Needless to say, not many women were enthralled with being vestal virgins. Usually, fathers who were nobles would bribe the High Priest in order to have his daughter become a vestal virgin.

This section is brought to those of you who enjoy Trivial Pursuit and other useless facts.

A few other facts that he told us was that the Romans were color-blind when it came to emperors – they had a black emperor, Lucius Pescennius Niger (Niger being the Latin word for “black”). Also, Rome employed professional pacers. Since 1000 paces = one mile, Romans had people literally walk all over Europe pacing out how far it was to the next town. And imagine doing all of that walking in those shoes that they wore.

He talked about the numerous theories surrounding Caesar’s death (suicide –which I don’t believe – and that Brutus was his son from an affair – which I don’t believe either), about how Mussolini had a road go right through the Roman Forum to parallel a victory parade that the Romans would do when the Axis would win WWII, and about the Rostri, a pulpit where anyone could stand and say anything they wanted without any regard to being punished.

Out of nowhere we heard a voice yell, “Ashley?” to which Ashley looked up instinctively and saw a lady named June with whom Ashley worked at the courthouse! It’s always crazy to see someone you know halfway around the world. It’s happened to me only once and that was in Chicago, not in Europe. What are the odds of seeing someone that you know who happens to be in the same city, at the same time and doing the same thing as you are at that very moment? I’m sure there are many people smarter than me who could do that.

We then headed over to the Colosseum and paid our tickets (the tour guide knew about an obscure ticket booth and an alternative entrance to the Colosseum). We didn’t need any headphones as our tour guide was very loud and our group was rather small.

He pontificated about many other facts such as the Colosseum was built in only ten years; it holds 50,000 people and can evacuate them in an emergency in under ten minutes; the vendors sold dead rats and snake heads (no doubt because popcorn and hot dogs weren’t invented yet); they had booking agents all throughout the alleyways, much like the dog tracks; Hadrian (of Hadrian’s Wall fame) had the city of Rome shut down for seven months straight so the Colosseum could host games and killings everyday; they would have real life naval battles complete with enormous ships and live animals inside the Colosseum; and, to top it off, they would reconstruct actual battles to show how the battles over foreign lands were won (since there was no CNN).

We finished off with the tour and quickly headed back to the convent so that we could catch the train to Citivecchia in order to board our cruise. Ashley, of course, couldn’t really enjoy the tour. She was too busy panicking.

“What are going to do? The taxis are on strike. Did the man say how long they would be on strike? What are going to do without a taxi? This is insane. Why would they strike? Why today? We’re going to miss the boat and then we’ll be out of all of that money. What are we going to do?”

While she stopped to catch her breath, I interjected as fast as I could, a solution. I’ve learned over the years that if Ashley panics, no one else can because she does enough worrying for an army. Although I was very worried as well, I had to remain calm. After all, it doesn’t do any good to have both of us frantic.

“I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we just use the subway that we saw before the tour? It’s not that far away and it goes to the train terminal.”

Evidently, she wasn’t done panicking yet. “How do you know it goes to the train terminal? Did you ask someone? It might not even go there. You always say something does, but you never know. Remember that taxi ride in England? It cost us a fortune. And how long does it take to get there? What time does it leave? Will it get there on time? Plus, it’s a long way there. The luggage is heavy and it’s hotter than Hell outside. I’m not carrying it all the way there. It’s just way too heavy.”

The only reason why she stopped panicking out loud was because we were back at the convent (thankfully). We went back in to retrieve our luggage with no real plan on what to do. I was fully intending to go with the subway because it was clearly the only plan we had. Just at that moment, our prayers were answered.

I didn’t recognize the answer at first, or God’s influence, but I am certainly glad He intervened. Ashley frantically ran outside to look for someone to flag down so that they could take us to the train station. Looking back, she probably would have lied down in the middle of the street to pull someone over. Either that, or if they didn’t pull over and stop, she wouldn’t have to worry about getting on the train anymore.

Just as she rushed outside, a sharply-dressed man in a black Mercedes with some sort of delivery package pulled up and proceeded to head into the convent, walking right past Ashley. In true Ashley fashion, she got an idea. I know this because she came right back into the convent and walked right up to the man in the tailored suit. I wished I could have seen her face when she got the idea. That would have been priceless.

Without even asking my opinion, she took matters into her own hands and put her one-day Italian into good use. Out of the corner where I was getting the bags, I saw her approach the man and ask if he could possibly take us to the train station in Italian. He paused a moment, and then proceeded to pull out his phone. Ashley, her eyes lit up like saucers, came over to me and told me her plan.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“I have a brilliant plan,” she said feverishly. “I asked the man if he could take us to the train station and he said that he couldn’t but he is asking his buddy if he could come pick us up. I know he isn’t a criminal because he pulled up in a Mercedes outside.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I replied, but I had to admit – it was a very good plan and I was proud that Ashley took the bull by the horns. By the way, criminals don’t drive Mercedes? Isn’t this the land of the Mafia?

Mother Superior came around the corner where they served breakfast in the mornings and was yelling at one of the other nuns, supposedly about the sharp dressed man. There was Latin and Italian all over the place.

The man got off of his cell phone and walked up to Ashley. “My man can be here in ten minutes,” I heard him say in English and I was so relieved that I sank down in the chair behind me. I didn’t even know there was a chair there, but I’m glad there was.

“Grazi! Grazi!” Ashley and I kept telling him and he said “Ciao” and headed out the door before Mother Superior could yell at him for some reason.

Ashley and I smiled at each other with grins from ear to ear and I thanked her for saving the day. “You see, those Italian lessons did come in handy,” and she smiled back at me.

Another sharply dressed man in a Mercedes arrived and helped us put our luggage in his trunk and headed bounded off for the train station a little bit ahead of schedule. We paid him €25 (I would have paid him €200 at that moment) and in we went, hauling the luggage. I was never more glad to drag that luggage than I was right then. I didn’t care if it didn’t have a handle or not.

The first thing I needed to do was to secure our tickets to Citivecchia. I saw that the lines for the self-service ticket booth was a lot shorter than the regular ticket line, and surprisingly, was easier than I thought it would be.

The train was already there and so we rushed to the train, along with a few other families.

“Where are we seated?” Ashley asked.

“I have no idea, but let’s just get on. We can figure it out later.” Just then, the porter yelled, “All aboard!” We weren’t even at the train’s door yet. I wasn’t about to walk the length of the station to try and find our seat.

The gentleman in front of me was struggling just as much as I was. Not only did he have his luggage, but he had his entire family’s luggage, at least twenty-five bags labeled with Gucci, Gabana and Dolce, and other designers that we couldn’t afford and a wife who was already onboard screaming in her thick Brooklyn accent, “Hurry up, Henry! I don’t want to miss the buffet on the cruise! They got shrimp!”

We heard a “Last call for all aboard!” and I still wasn’t on the train yet. However, everyone else in the city of Rome was. I feared I would have to ride on the roof.

“Ashley, you go ahead. I’m just going to shove our stuff somewhere and I’ll adjust it during the ride.”

”Are you sure?”

“Yea,” I panted as I was out of breath from hauling everything but her camera and cosmetic bag. “I’m sure. You go ahead and find a seat upstairs and I’ll stay down here and protect our things. I’ll catch up with you when we get there. It shouldn’t be long.”

I threw our luggage on and got on just before the door slammed shut. I almost got caught in the door!

The train ride was smooth, despite the many looks I got from everyone else who was sitting down and staring at me like I was hovering around their luggage. Actually, I was hovering around their luggage. There was so much luggage that it blocked the entire door and lower level including the bathroom door, which was right in front of me. If anyone wanted to use the restroom, I certainly was not going to move the luggage. No way in Hell. Besides, they were comfortable to sit on, no matter whose luggage it was.

“Excuse me,” a man said to me from behind with an air of pompousness. You could definitely tell he was going on the cruise – the Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts and sandals with socks gave it away. I’ll bet he planned this outfit for months before the cruise. “I need to use the bathroom.”

I looked at him like “You’ve got to be kidding me” and he stood there for a second, looked down at the sea of bags, and then looked back up at me. I was tired, grumpy, hungry and stubborn as a mule. I did the only response I could think of to let him know that I was not going to move anything for him – I stared back at him.

“Did you hear me? Could you move your luggage? I need to use the bathroom,” he said as if he was going to beat me up if I didn’t move anything.

As tired as I was, I didn’t want to physically fight anyone (I don’t think I could have lifted my arms to punch anyone anyway) and I didn’t feel like explaining that all of those bags weren’t mine. So, I complied with his request and moved my black duffel bag which was under my feet in the back of the train. Even if my bags were in front of the bathroom, it still wouldn’t have helped him.

“I told you to move your bags. I have to go.”

“I did move my bag,” I replied to him. “These others aren’t mine. Sorry.” The man stormed off, obviously not used to dealing with someone who severely needed a relaxing cruise. I wanted to search for Ashley and see if she was alright, so I moved enough bags to slightly open the bathroom door, turned the knob to show “occupied,” and headed upstairs to find Ashley.

She was seated in an open aisle seat, across the aisle from a couple who was obviously on their honeymoon. Trust me, you can tell when a couple is on their honeymoon, especially for a cruise. Actually, it was refreshing to see people who were obviously going to enjoy themselves on the cruise. I tried to get a good look at their face because it was probably the last time I would ever see them out of their cabin, if you catch my drift.

“Hey, honey. How are things down there?” Ashley asked. I didn’t feel like telling her about the Bully. Besides, if anyone wanted to steal my stuff, I was in no shape to stop them.

“Good. How are things up here? Looking forward to the cruise?”

“You bet. I’m most looking forward to the water being free.” I couldn’t agree with her more.

We saw the beautiful blue vistas of the Mediterranean and within thirty minutes, we were approaching Citivecchia. We could see Celebrity’s Galaxy in the distance. I now began to relax. I headed downstairs to get our stuff. One good thing about being last on the train – you are the first off.

We got all of our stuff before we were trampled by everyone who wanted to get to the buffet first and headed out to find a cab. We did not get a cab in order to save money and instead decided to walk the few blocks to the port. Little did we know, those few blocks seemed like a few miles. Up a hill. In the heat. With five trillion pounds of luggage and getting heavier with each step. It was a dumb decision.

After stopping every third step to watch the people who splurged and took a taxi to the ship go by, we finally made it past the port gate, dripping in sweat, very hungry and not willing to go another inch. Like a mirage in a desert, we saw a bus with the sign “Celebrity Cruises” in the window.

A sign from God! Actually, a sign from Celebrity, but for the second time that day, we had been saved, and it was only 2:30 p.m. The driver gave me the luggage tags even though I previously filled them out before we left the States and, because my mind was thick with the Italian heat, it took me a lot longer to put them on our luggage than a normal person would take.

We arrived at the check-in area and put our luggage in the appropriate section. Stepping inside (air conditioning at last!), Ashley trotted off to find the bathroom while a tuxedoed man approached me with a tray full of small glasses of water.

“Would you like some water, sir?” In school, they teach you that there are no such things as dumb questions.

Well, there are. Your teachers lied to you all these years. There are such things as dumb questions and that was one of the dumbest I had ever heard. I think I lost fifteen pounds just walking from the train station to the bus.

I politely said yes, grabbed two glasses (if I was an octopus, I would have grabbed eight), and before he could leave, I chugged those two glasses the size of small juice glasses down and grabbed two more. I was hoping he could come back before Ashley got there so that I could get some for her.

She came back after I had downed four more glasses of water and we checked in. The check-in was extremely smooth. Before no time, we had checked in, gotten our boarding cards, walked through security, had our pre-board picture taken complete with festive background, walked onto the ship and grabbed a glass of champagne while being escorted to our cabin, all under ten minutes. Now, that’s the life!

The reason why I like cruises is because I get a chance to sit back and relax instead of always making sure that the plans I have diligently put together for six months are going smoothly. On a cruise, I can kick back, enjoy the scenery and just be myself.

When we got into the cabin, our boarding passes and bags were already there as well as our excursion tickets with our tour numbers on them. Ashley was looking very tired and she decided that she wanted to take a nap instead of getting lunch, so off I went to explore the ship, get something to eat, and enjoy myself.

My first stop on the Galaxy was the buffet in the Oasis Cafe. There had never been a better name for a place. It truly was an oasis and fortunately, there was not a mirage in sight. I had never seen so much food in my life! They had beef tips, salmon, roasted Greek chicken, potatoes, salads, vegetables, and desserts as far as the eye can see. They had every conceivable beverage and the best sweet iced tea I had outside of the South. As I sat down and started the first day of many in Gluttony, I kept thinking that I had died gone to Heaven. This must be what Heaven is like.

After gorging myself, I needed to walk some of it off and headed back to the room to get the map and see what is going on. I walked past the nice man in the sharp (but dated) burgundy sport coat hawking some drink called a “Bon Voyage” (it’s motto should have been, “One drink and it’s Bon Voyage for the night!”) and out of the Oasis Café toward the ship’s deck which was alive with Caribbean music (maybe they were confused and thought we were in the Bahamas) and vendors as far as the eye could see. There were people hovering around these vendors writing down things and so I, being the curious one and always up for an adventure, marched over to see what these people were writing down. I didn’t want to be left out.

The first stop was the jewelry section and people were trying to guess how much this Greek necklace was worth. A scavenger hunt! I love games! I’m not even on the boat an hour and already I’m engaged in something fun! I knew that I was going to have a great time.

I guessed too low on the necklace ($1650.00 for that thing? I guessed $50) and then I noticed what everyone else was doing…cheating. Everyone was looking on everyone else’s paper, exchanging answers, and not even bothering to guess at the trivia questions on the paper. The teacher in me wanted to give them a detention and snatch away their paper, but some of those people were downright mean. It was easy to tell the people who have cruised several times and those who have only cruised a few times.

The veterans were cheating while the newbies were playing along. The veterans didn’t even admire the ship while newbies were taking pictures. Veterans were changed and already sunning themselves (some of them NEEDED the Mediterranean sun as they were whiter than the chair they sat on) while the newbies were inside eating the buffet and reading the daily program.

While we are on the subject of chairs, what is with the marking of chairs? All of a sudden, there were no deck chairs to be had. Every single one of them – I mean ALL of them – were taken with someone pasty white and obviously had been practicing their eating skills at buffets for a few months in advance of the cruise. Especially those that took over six chairs even though they only needed two (well, three, actually). My research at www.cruisecritics.com warned me about these people. I’m surprised people weren’t peeing on them to mark their territory.

Why? Why the incessant need to grab as many deck chairs as possible? It wasn’t like they were free and these people got to keep them after the cruise. Throughout the cruise, I kept noticing the same people on the chairs and lots of empty chairs with towels in them, but no other significant notification of being inhabited. I wanted to just sit in one and wait for the owner to come in. As a matter of fact, the towels were getting more tan than their owners. Strange phenomenon.

I finished off the scavenger hunt (Celebrity calls it a “Welcome Aboard Showcase”), gathered my tickets to the free artwork drawing later that night, and meandered off to see if Ashley wanted anything to eat or drink. It was now around 4:30 and I met our room steward and assistant in the hallway (both very nice but they didn’t speak English well – I think the steward just got promoted that day) and they asked if my room was okay. I said that it was and utilized more of my research information – I asked if he could put padding underneath the bottom sheet as the beds are not that comfortable without it. If those people were going to hog all of the deck chairs, I was at least going to beat them to the comfort.

Ashley was sound asleep, but I wanted her to at least eat something because it was another 3 ½ hours until our late seating dinner. Besides, I wanted to see if I could sign up and win $100 worth of artwork. Maybe my luck in the day would continue!

I was able to get Ashley up and maneuvering around. She washed her face and we headed to the Oasis Café and she got something to eat, I munched on my second and third dessert (after all, dinner is hours away so it isn’t like I’m “spoiling” my appetite) and we heard the call to get our lifejackets and report to our stations.

We grabbed our lifejackets and headed for our section. Why is it that people try to be the center of attention during these things? They always have to be the class clown (or village idiot as the case may be). These people are blowing on the whistles, trying to put two people in one lifejacket, cracking old jokes that even Bob Hope and Groucho Marx got tired of using, and annoying everyone around them. While I am all about having fun, I’m not into annoying people around me by laughing at stupid jokes and being the wise guy.

The drill (thankfully) was over and we headed back to the room to freshen up for dinner and then see the ship set sail for Naples. The sun started to set and we headed out to watch the ship leave Citivecchia. As the ship pulled out, we saw people dressed up in party dresses and shirts and ties.

Citivecchia is nothing to look at (all we saw was the port and it was very industrial as most ports are) and we became excited to see the ship go, sit back and relax and just enjoy ourselves.

We got back to the room and I took a shower first. It was freezing cold! There was no hot water and it felt like they shipped the water straight from the Swiss Alps. If I had taken a shower right when we got on the ship as hot and sweaty as I was, I would have went into cardiac arrest.

My shower was very short and Ashley decided to brave the cold. I could tell she lost the battle when she gave out a loud yell and shouted “It’s cold!” I continued dressing as fast as I could to get some heat before hypothermia and frostbite set in, then sat down to look over my options after dinner tonight.

We got dressed and headed to dinner a little early at the Orion Restaurant. We wanted to attend the free artwork drawing that I earned free tickets to at the Meet and Greet earlier. It was at the foot of the main stairway down the center of the ship – no doubt to draw as much attention to what he was doing as possible.

The man running the art auctions called himself Tiny Tim. He was 6’8” and around 350 lbs. He could have played football as a lineman and still dwarfed the opponents. Tiny Tim was funny, engaging, charming, loud, gregarious and passionate about art all at once. He could have sold an Eskimo a bucket of ice cubes. He was that good of a salesman.

“If you all stick around for the drawing, I will do a quick impression of Camilla Parker Bowles later,” he said in his thick, English accent. He then proceeded to pitch his art auctions and how we could score millions of dollars of artwork for pennies.

“Tomorrow,” he pitched, “you could score millions of dollars of artwork for pennies. Plus, we’ll have another raffle and give away free champagne! Everyone who shows up will get a piece of artwork worth $100.00 and free champagne! All you need to do is bring your tickets that my lovely assistant is handing out now. Did I mention there was free champagne tomorrow? Just checking to see if you are still awake.”

He started calling out numbers and not everyone was there, so he re-called out numbers of tickets that went unclaimed. Lucky for me.

“The next prize is a painting worth over $650. Can everyone say ooooohhhh for me?” The audience, like lemmings, started oooohhhhing.

And he called my number! My lucky day was not over yet. He gave me instructions on where to pick up the artwork and when. I immediately wondered what it would look like. Ashley immediately wondered if we would have to pay taxes on the painting and if we did, would we be able to decline it.

He called out a few more numbers and gave out certificates for free ten minute massages, 50% off anything in the Duty-Free stores, a certificate for a free picture from the Gallery and Ashley won a box of chocolates. We tried to keep those the entire trip, but they didn’t make it.

Tiny Tim bid us good night and told us about the free champagne art auction on the first sea day. We left the area and headed off to dinner, but not before securing our certificate for the artwork.

On our way, we noticed that the pre-boarding pictures were up and Ashley found ours right away. We were the only ones who had sweat pouring down our faces and all over our bodies.

We looked like we had swam to the boat – from Florida. Everyone else was smiling and festive and, more importantly, dry. We started to buy the picture just so that no one would ever see it, but decided that we needed the money more, so we left it shamefully for others to ogle and laugh at. Who cares. We’ll never see these people again – hopefully.

We arrived a little early to dinner and saw the huge crowd standing outside of the Orion Restaurant. One thing that we did notice was that there were sanitizer dispensers everywhere. We really liked that. When you hear about all of the problems with norovirus – and seeing the other passengers, sanitation was not an issue for some as they clearly did not care about cleanliness – when the doors opened up for seating, we grabbed a handful of sanitizer and were shown to our seat.

On the first night of a cruise, everyone comes over and greets themselves to you. We met the assistant maitre ‘d (who was a major jerk and snob, clearly with a big ego), the waiter, Telma (who was as nice as we could ever ask for – her fiancé was also a waiter and he was serving the table next to us), the assistant waiter (don’t remember his name, but he was as quiet as a church mouse and always had iced tea on the table when we arrived – great service!), and just about everyone in between. I felt like this was the first day of school and I had to learn everyone’s name for a quiz later in the day.

I don’t know how waiters learn the names of all of the people that they serve and their eating and dining preferences. If I was a waiter, I’d have to have notecards and give them all nametags. Telma took a day or two, but she remembered our names, what we liked to eat and even made suggestions on what was good that night (“You definitely want to try the Prime Rib”) and what to avoid (“I think the Duckling was hardly touched and there is a lot left over”). All of her selections were spot on. She did not make a bad choice at all, guiding us with what she liked, what other passengers on different cruises said about the food, and giving us her unabashed critique of what to order.

I could not say enough about Telma. She told us about how she and her fiancé met, when they are getting married, her future in the cruise industry, and about her family back home. By the end of the cruise, we felt like she was our sister. We truly connected with her.

After a very filling dinner, we headed back toward our cabin, tired and ready for bed. We walked through the dance lounge and were embarrassed to see people the same age as my grandparents dancing the night away despite the fact that the Foxtrot they were dancing didn’t even come close to the 70’s music the band was playing.

“You wanna dance, honey?” I asked, knowing full well that there was no way that Ashley was going to dance tonight. Another night, maybe, but she could barely drag herself down the stairs to our cabin.

“Are you kidding me? No way.” She looked over at me and since she couldn’t read my face as to whether I was joking or not, she came back with a sympathetic, “Do you?”

“No,” I responded, suddenly feeling very tired. “I am worn out, just like the people after 11 p.m. in the Rendezvous Lounge.” And I felt just like them, too. I’m young, but I was old enough to know that tomorrow was a big day as we were going to visit the Isle of Capri (pronounce KAH-pree), Sorrento and Pompeii. The casino would have to wait for another night.

We headed back to our cabin and our sheets were turned down and ever so inviting. It didn’t take us long to get to sleep, especially since we would be led on a tour by the Godfather himself, whose vocabulary was unintelligible because he suffered from mumble-mouth and we would meet up with two ladies who had more energy than five-year-olds on Red Bull.

[LrdNorman]

Here is Chapter eight...

Chapter Eight

The excursion Ashley and I decided to go on before the start of the cruise was a compromise. She really wanted to go to the Isle of Capri and I really wanted to go to Pompeii. Neither one of us had any desire to go to the other’s destination, so we took the Capri / Sorrento / Pompeii tour. We would both end up disappointed (but not as disappointed as when we saw the nudist beach in Nice).

Because our excursion started early (7:00), Ashley wanted to use as much time to prepare for the day as was humanly possible. I didn’t care what I looked like on the excursion, so I went off to breakfast. Besides, since it was going to be a long day of walking and traveling to three places in the heat, I wanted as much energy as I could get.

Our hot water situation had cleared up (at least the letter under our door told us), so after our $3.00 Wal-Mart alarm clock woke us up at 5:30, Ashley bounced up and quickly went into the shower while I slammed my hand on it, knocking it off the side table. Ashley has always been an early bird, functioning better in the morning than late at night. I could do either, but I do better at night, if given the choice. While my heavy partying days are over (not that I ever had any, but I’d like to think I did), I can still stay up for the late night buffet, but then I crash right after that.

Again, just like the lunch buffet the day before, the Oasis Café was a bountiful feast of meats, cheeses, pastries, juices, teas, sausages, fruits, and many other delicacies. The smell of the food was incredible. The people down there (and there were quite a few), all seemed to grab quick things and eat rather fast, no doubt so that they could catch on some sleep from the night before.

I ate my hearty breakfast and made a plate for Ashley to eat while she was getting ready. I guess I could have ordered room service, but I wanted to experience the Oasis Café with my eyes as well as the other senses. I would have ordered room service for our lunch as well, but lunch was provided on the excursion.

Ashley took a few bites of her omelet, sausage and fruit while I packed my backpack with cold bottled water (that I put in the fridge from the night before), extra batteries, some snacks from the café, and a change of clothes. My mother always told me to be prepared. Then I put my money and passport in my belt underneath my pants and we headed off to the Celebrity Theatre where we were to meet our excursion leaders.

I never realized how many people take the excursions from the boat. Celebrity Cruises really has a nice system going of making sure everyone gets on the right excursion and makes it on time. The man in charge of the excursions was already ordering people to come up to the stage if they are going on the Capri / Sorrento / Pompeii excursion when we entered the theatre. As we walked past more people trying to hawk us with tall bottles of cold water for $3.00 (don’t they know that it will be hot by the time that we need it?), we found a seat and waited for our excursion tour number on our ticket to be called.

Not too long after we sat down, our number was called, I walked up and got both of our tickets and then we walked out of the gangplank onto the large pier where we were docked. There was a nice girl handing out maps and brochures of Capri, Sorrento, and Pompeii with the name Aloschi Bros. stamped on it. We were then told to go to the Italian man in the bad suit at the end of the pier to get our headphones for the tour. I must have been trained well because I immediately wondered if we would see Henry on this tour.

A frail, Italian gentleman in obvious Mediterranean fashion (not sure how to describe it except think Caribbean without pastels) made a quick count, introduced himself in unintelligible language, and set out to lead us on the Godfather tour.

To say that this man was hard to understand is the understatement of the year. As I stated earlier, I am usually the person closest to the tour guide so that I can soak up as much information as possible (I told you I had a problem), but even with headphones, this guy was useless.

We got funneled onto a hydro-foil that would take us to the Isle of Capri. The only way I knew that we had to get onto the hydro-foil was because everyone else was getting on and I recognized our tour number on a sticker on their chest. I would have been lost without these stickers.

In case you were wondering, a hydro-foil is a very fast boat that appears to barely even touch water. It might even fly for all I know. It is the only transportation to the isle and in no time, we were already there, told to put our headphones on to listen to The Godfather (Mumble Man) for further instructions. It was like a training session for the Mafia hitmen. I fully expected to swim with the fishes if I didn’t follow direct instructions.

Ashley ripped off my headphones as we got off of the boat. “Kevin, can you understand a word he is saying?”

“Yes, he said that we will get our next information from Lefty or Babyface. Either that, or he needs to stop and see his Mom for homemade pasta.”

“Be serious. Can you understand anything he says? He is horrible. I’m getting a headache. I can’t listen to him anymore. Wait…what did he say?”

Fortunately, I caught a little portion of what he said and saw others look around in confusion, but head off in the same direction. “I think he said that we have to take the cable car and wait at the top for him, but don’t quote me on that.”

“I’m glad you can understand him because I would be lost. He’s horrible.”

I, in fact, did figure it out and was proud of myself for deciphering his code. I felt like James Bond. We got in one of the cable cars that would take us to the top and struck up a conversation with the young family across from us. Actually, we only got into the conversation because Ashley had a question for them.

“Kevin, ask them if they can understand this man.”

“You ask them. If you are so curious, you ask them.” So she did.

“Excuse me,” she called out to the young lady holding onto her ten-year-old son. “I hate to ask, but, can you understand anything our tour guide is saying? He’s giving me a headache.”

They must have had the same reaction because they started to laugh. “We were just saying the same thing,” the lady responded while glancing at her husband. “We can only catch bits and pieces. By the way, I love your accent. You sound like you are from our neck of the woods. Where are you from?”

Ashley smiled and explained to them that she was from North Florida, which is really the South and that she grew up outside of the Georgia line.

“Well, I’ll be. We’re from Georgia ourselves. This is our big trip for the year. What about ya’ll?”

Ashley found a kindred spirit. It’s always fun to watch her communicate with people who are from the South. She always seems more relaxed and enjoys herself. After they exchanged small talk, the young lady dropped a bombshell and I don’t think Ashley would ever get over it. It confirmed her worst fear.

“I saw you taking pictures on the ride up. What type of camera is that?” the lady asked.

“It’s a Kodak digital camera. I just love it. What about you?”

“Well, we borrowed this camera from my mom who is on the trip with us because we lost our camera with all of our trip on it.” I actually heard Ashley take a sharp breath.

Ashley nearly had a heart attack earlier in the trip with narrowly losing her camera and now she sat stunned and awestruck that people could move on without pictures from their trip. Pictures that they could never get back.

“You’re kidding me!” Ashley gasped. “That’s horrible! I don’t think I could go on without my camera. I would rather lose my luggage than my camera. You must be devastated.”

The young family was very upbeat and positive. “You know, fortunately, my mother-in-law took some wonderful pictures so we’ll probably just have them developed. Besides, it wasn’t like we lost our passports, our money or anything. If that’s the worst thing that happens to us, I’ll take that. After all, we still have our health and each other.”

I agreed with them, but Ashley still could not fathom how they could manage so well without their own camera. She instinctively held her camera tighter when we reached the top.

When we got to the top, we had to wait for the other members of our tour number (and there were three tour groups from Celebrity – 21, 22, and 23 – we were in tour number 22), so we moved to the railing for a photo opportunities while hardly anyone was there. We asked the young couple if they would take our picture and, amazingly, they got it to Ashley’s correct specifications on the first try.

The view of the Mediterranean from atop Capri is breathtaking. There are different shades of crystal blue water, gorgeous sailboats, and beautiful flowers in blooms of pinks, purples, reds, and yellows. The weather was perfect with no chance of rain and, while a little warm, this is definitely a place to get away from it all. It was very easy to see why Julius and Augustus Caesar built villas here. After a hard day’s work of killing and violence, one needs a place to relax.

On the Isle of Capri, there are four towns. Capri (pronounced KAH-pree) means “wild boar” and is abundant with olive groves, sheer cliffs and small garden terraces. Capri Town, where the hydrofoils arrive, is on the eastern side and Anacapri is another 1,000 feet above Capri Town. Our tour concentrated mainly on these two cities.

After about ten minutes, the rest of our tour arrived and The Godfather screamed out, “Andiamo!” at us and, like sheep, we dutifully followed. In seconds, he was a good thirty yards ahead of us with very few people right behind him. We were not one of those people.

“C’mon, Ashley. I don’t want to lose him.”

“You go right ahead; he’s walking way too fast. I don’t like that. I’m going to stay back here and take my pictures.”

“Well, what if we lose him?” I asked.

“You can’t get lost on an island. There’s only one way down. Besides, he’s talking way too fast and we can’t understand him anyway.” She had a very good point.

So we leisurely meandered through Capri Town, enjoying the small boutiques that were built for the tourists and a lush garden that was sprawled out on a cliff. The garden has a nice pathway and small statues adorned the walkways. Not sure how they watered the plants (or got water up here for that matter), but the plants were rich hues of pastels and the grass was a vibrant green without any leaves on it. Walt Disney World must own a villa up here.

We took our time admiring the views and watching fudge being made (you’ve got to sample some) eventually catching up with The Godfather and his entourage. One of the few things that I did catch from him was that we were to meet back at the cable car at 10:00 a.m., and when we arrived at 9:55 a.m., he was still sitting at the café by the car having an espresso (cappuccinos are evidently for non-Italians).

Ashley and I decided to see if we could get some postcards of Capri. Ashley likes to get some postcards first so that she can see what attractions and views are being photographed professionally and try to take them herself. If she cannot duplicate the photo, at least she has a professional photo of it for her scrapbook.

At 10:20, The Godfather screamed “Andiamo!” at us again and we got on the cable car and proceeded down the side of Capri. We were told to wait at the bottom for the tour. All I ever understood from The Godfather was the word “Andiamo!” (it means “Let’s Go!” or “Hurry up!” and he said it a lot) and where to wait for him. Other than that, we didn’t have a clue what Mumble-Mouth was saying.

It was at the bottom of Capri by the dinghies and sailboats that Ashley almost made the biggest mistake of her life. I will never forget that moment or any of the cataclysmic moments and events that haunted us throughout the rest of the cruise. Looking back, however, it did provide us with plenty of entertainment and, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t all that bad, but it was almost a disaster.

It was not a what, but a who. Their names were Kay Ray and Sheila and they were the chattiest duo that we had ever encountered. However, they were the single best sources for entertainment and by far the most memorable of the people that we met in Italy or Greece.

I think that they require a little introduction and description, although I’m sure you will discover them for yourself.

Both Sheila and Kay Ray were in education and in their mid-50’s. Kay Ray (she made it very clear that it was Kay Ray, not just Kay) was tall and slender with straight dark brown hair, wearing dark sunglasses and a floral print sundress that screamed adventurous and in search of a man.

Sheila looked like an English teacher (she was – like most occupations, you can usually spot them a mile away) with a small, blonde afro-style curly hairdo (excuse my terminology – I don’t know the terms of hairstyles), a white / pastel colored outfit and sensible shoes. She had very small sunglasses on. I’m not sure why I noticed what they were wearing at all, frankly.

It all started when Ashley saw them standing next to the ticket booth waiting for the tours to come down. At this point, Ashley had become so frustrated by The Godfather that she wanted to make sure that it wasn’t just her and I who had the problem. Since Sheila and Kay Ray were standing by themselves and had the same tour number (22) sticker on, Ashley convinced me to ask them if they could understand The Godfather.

“Why should I go over to them ask them?” I inquired. “If you are so concerned, you ask them.”

“Because you’re the man,” she responded as if that made any sense. “Besides, we’ve got to find out if this is where we are supposed to be. By the way, are you hungry? I’m starving.”

“I thought men don’t ask for directions. I wish you women would make up your mind. And we are not paying for anything – lunch is provided for on this excursion. You had your chance to eat.”

“I had to take a shower and do my hair. Go on and ask them if they can understand a word he’s saying…” and with that I headed over to the ladies to get Ashley off my back.

“Excuse me,” I said. “My wife and I cannot understand a word our tour leader is saying. Do you know if this is where we are supposed to wait for him?”

Kay Ray spoke first with bold abandonment. “I’m hearing-impaired so I had to take out a hearing aid out in order to listen. Now I just stand close enough to lip-read.”

Sheila spoke next with earnestness in her response and sizing me up. “I think so, but I’m not sure. We cannot understand him either, but everyone else is standing around here. We just follow everyone else.” I’m not sure if she sized me up to see if I was dangerous or if I was a good catch for her. In those few seconds, I think it could have gone either way.

Ashley must have sensed their impending pounce as well (only because I have a Y chromosome, I can assure you) and proceeded to step up to meet them as well. Without even taking a breath, Kay Ray launched into her background and told us her life story (“I am jobless, homeless, and manless”), how she and Sheila met, “She called me over to her apartment to get a roach out of her bra”) and what their intent was (“Are you sitting with anyone? We are looking for new tablemates”) to which Ashley quickly threateningly whispered into my ear, “You had better not volunteer us.”

If you’ve ever seen the magicians Penn and Teller, Kay Ray was Penn and Sheila was Teller (or, Kay Ray was Costello in Bud Abbott’s body if that helps). She always told the entertaining story and Sheila would nod in approval or sigh because she could not believe that Kay Ray just said that.

While we waited, we all introduced ourselves. “My name’s Kevin and this is my wife, Ashley.”

“My name’s Kay Ray and this is my friend Sheila. Where are you all from?” Kay Ray asked.

“We’re from Florida, how about you?” Ashley responded. Neither one of us realized how big a question that would turn out to be.

“Really? So are we! What part of Florida?” Kay Ray countered, no doubt winding herself up.

“Cocoa Beach, where Kennedy Space Center is. And what about you?” Ashley said, completely unaware of Kay Ray’s typical responses.

“We are both from St. Pete. I’m jobless, homeless and manless,” Sheila said emphatically, as if this was her trump card. She had more one liners in her hand. “I sold my house, quit my job as a schoolteacher and administrator, and I am currently looking for a man. I’ve been in Europe for four weeks and I am still looking.”

“Oh, really?” I said. I think I was just shocked and the words came out as a reaction to her story. She always reached out and touched my arm or shoulder, leaned in when she talked and spoke in a wild and crazy (but non-threatening) way. She had lots of energy, enthusiasm and never at a loss for words.

“You betcha. I was an administrator at a middle school for thirteen years. Let me tell you something – if you do middle school lunch everyday for thirteen years, you’re going to Heaven. They do everything with their food except eat it.”

You know, she’s right. I teach in a school with grades 7-12 and those middle school kids aren’t right. God must have taken a break and let his minions wire them up at that age. These people are depriving a village somewhere of an idiot. I’ve seen them at lunch.

Kay Ray then went on and described some of the things she saw as an administrator, which made Ashley’s hair stand on end. Seeing that she had our attention, Kay Ray then held court. She rattled off stories about her life, why she was in Europe, some of the things that happened to her while she was here, etc. I can’t remember them all and didn’t have enough time to write them down.

“So,” Ashley started, “how did you two meet?” Sheila gave a quick sigh, no doubt nervous that Kay Ray was going to spill the embarrassing story. She was right.

Kay Ray was onstage and she relished every moment. “Well, we met in St. Petersburg and she had just moved into the apartment next to me. While she was moving stuff in, she came over to my apartment in a frantic state of mind. I asked her what was wrong and she said, ‘Could you please help me get this roach out of my bra?!’”

“Oh my word!” Ashley uttered in shock, but Kay Ray took this reaction as sympathy for Sheila.

“Oh, yeah! A roach in her bra!” she said louder. “So after knowing her for only an hour, I had to dig in there and grab this roach from her bra.”

“So, do you feel lonely going through Europe alone?” I asked to change the subject.

“Sure do,” she responded. “It’s hard to tour by myself. It’s much more fun when you are with somebody else. Besides, I know all my stories.”

“Andiamo!” The Godfather yelled and like cattle, we followed him to the hydrofoil. We could be told we would be taken off to slaughter, he takes off to slaughter, and no one would have known any different. We were zombies and just following orders.

“So, do you guys like your tablemates?” Sheila asked. Ashley and I both glanced at each other because we were at a table for two and, since it was still early in the trip, we still liked dinner with each other.

“Yes,” I said. “We are at a table for two. We had requested that when we booked the cruise. Why? You don’t like yours?”

“No way,” Sheila said. “We are looking for new dinner partners. The other couple we are paired up with are celebrating their 25th anniversary.” She then leaned in and lowered her voice as if she was going to tell us a secret. “And, she’s like one of those Stepford Wives.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I half-joked and you would have thought that Sheila and Kay Ray were shot with a stun gun. Their mouths went agape and then, when they saw me smile, they laughed.

How do you recover from something like that? While the thought of having them at our table would be a laugh riot, I could see that the humor could only last so long. Ashley again shot me a look that said, “If you volunteer us for their table, they will never find your body in the Mediterranean Sea.”

We arrived at the pier where we were to load on the hydrofoil and I was beginning to think that Sheila was a mute. The whole time we were waiting for The Godfather, she hadn’t spoken a word. We got onto the hydrofoil and managed to find two seats that didn’t have any availability around us, giving us a reprieve from Abbott and Costello.

We caught our breath and enjoyed the short ride over to the mainland, landing in Sorrento. After exiting the hydrofoil, we got on a charter bus and sat behind Momma and Big Poppa from Broward County, Florida (“I’m Santana from Havana and I don’t eat bananas” he continually uttered) who always said the same thing when he introduced himself and his wife.

Big Poppa and Momma were from Cuba and every time they talked, you could tell they were full of life. They had decided to spend their retirement money on a lavish trip and were living it up in Italy. They both were very nice – everyone on the trip knew them by name during the course of the cruise – and they went by the name of Momma and Big Poppa. She called him Poppa and he called her Momma.

Whenever anyone talked to them, it was evident that they loved their family and life, not necessarily in that order, though. They looked exactly like you would expect them to – She was a short 5’ 1” fireball and he was a 6’ 2” big, lovable teddy bear. He walked with a slight limp and she was always by his side. They became an inspiration for everyone on lasting relationships. They said they had been married for over forty years and enjoyed every moment together.

After Big Poppa led everyone in a chorus of “My name is Santana from Havana and I don’t eat bananas,” we arrived at our restaurant in Sorrento. It should have been a clue that there was no one around. I’m not sure if they cleared out the restaurant for us or if we came before everyone else, but it was dead. It looked like the servers were excited that people showed up because they were eager to sit us down and cater to us. It also looked like there were two servers for about 100 people.

Because lunch took awhile (remember that Italians are not the type to rush meals), we sat down at a table for four and had a chance to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Nerd from upstate New York for a good long while. They had done many cruises before, including Celebrity, and had just flown in yesterday for the cruise. He was an engineer of some sort (computer, maybe, or was it electrical?) with a few pens in his front pocket.

I kid you not.

They talked about cruising the entire time (“Did you know that in Hawaii, the cruise ship must be mostly an American staff and built entirely in America? I find that fascinating”) and how three days earlier he had just missed a huge rainstorm and flooding in order to get home safely.

This lunch was the best acting job of my life. If there was an Academy Award for “The Best Faking of Interest in a Conversation,” I would have won hands down. I really have no clue what we talked about, except it had to do with cruises and his Great Escape from The Flood. Other than that, I’ve got nothing.

The lunch was okay – stuffed manicotti with vegetables, a salad, and lots of wine. I drank more wine that day, probably as a result of avoiding Mr. Nerd’s harrowing tales of Mrs. Nerd’s adventures at sea. Lunch could not finish fast enough.

After lunch, we headed over to a pre-arranged shop that showed us how veneer is applied to furniture. Afterward, you can purchase furniture or pieces that have this veneer on it. Interesting, especially since it seems it’s the only thing to do in town.

Sorrento itself is boring. Legend has it that Sorrento is where the Sirens attempted to lure Ulysses into the rocks, either because he was the only entertainment in town or because they wanted to leave, too. We spent an extra hour there to shop. I just laid on the grass and stared at the sky.

“Andiamo!” The Godfather yelled as the charter bus came back and we boarded it headed to Pompeii. Arriving in Pompeii, you would expect it to be a tourist trap. Up ahead is Herculaneum, which looking back, would have been more interesting. Actually, any other tour guide than The Godfather would have been more interesting.

Herculaneum is the same as Pompeii, except it was spared from Mt. Vesuvius’ volcano and thus not destroyed, but preserved. Interestingly, there was a TV show which tested to see if the people of Pompeii could possibly have enough time to escape the impending doom. They found out that it was extremely possible for the citizens of Pompeii to get away. Therefore, I’m not sure what all of the fuss was in seeing mummified remains of people. They must have been planted there.

There were two fascinating things about Pompeii. One was the brothel. Inside one of the buildings (one of many that had brothels I am told) were frescoes that were painted above the room which indicated what type of, uh, work was conducted in there. The rooms were only about twenty-five or thirty square feet, so either the paintings were not drawn to scale or people were much shorter then than now. One of the other tour guides (I snuck into a different one so I could understand what I was looking at) told his tour group that the pictures above the door of the room indicated the specific sexual act in that room. My guess is that if you wanted something different in the middle, you would have to switch rooms. I was going to ask, but thought better of it.

The other fascinating thing about Pompeii was the fight. Outside of the gift shop, there is a small kiosk where they sell snacks and drinks. This is where my wife fell in love with the Italian granita. A granita is a sugary-lemon drink, similar to 7-11’s version of a Slurpee. It is delicious and addicting. The kiosk had a small basket with the largest lemons I had ever seen. They were bigger than grapefruits! This kiosk had granitas, snacks, fruits and most importantly for everyone out there, water. Since it was blazing hot out there and very little shade, the kiosk was packed with tourists ordering water at €3.00 at a time.

While the tour was waiting there, a middle-aged man who was very angry approached the kiosk and began yelling at the attendants behind the sales counter.

“Don’t buy from them! They are ripping you off!” he yelled with a timid looking woman in tow. She was young enough to be his daughter, but was probably was his wife. “You all charged me €2.00 for this same water this morning. Why is it €3.00 now? Is it because it’s hotter in the afternoon?!”

Everyone stood around, at first confused about what was going on, and then interested. The man’s booming voice echoed throughout the area and even made the lemons in the basket sway.

The attendants just shrugged and before they could utter a word in defense, he continued. “You have ripped people off for the last time! Why did you raise your prices you thieves?! Don’t buy from them! They’ll rip you off!” and then he started walking with a purpose toward the main street running through Pompeii.

Everyone started looking at each other in amazement. Glances were being made over toward the salesmen, but they did not look fazed. Either they were guilty (probably), didn’t speak English (unlikely), or have seen it all the time (unsure). They kept churning out the granitas with furious speed, including Ashley’s third one.

We were all gathered and waiting on the charter bus when the man came back with two policemen in tow. He was pleading at them (yelling more like) about the highway robbery those salesmen were committing. They policemen did not look excited to be doing this and probably got roped into it. My question was, why didn’t they just pretend they didn’t speak English?

“You need to do something,” the protestor yelled. “They can’t get away with this. They charged me €2.00 this morning, and now they raised the prices to €3.00 not a few hours later? That’s absurd! They are ripping people off and it’s got to stop. Who knows how many others they ripped off! There they are! This is against the law!” and he marched past the line and began yelling at the salesmen.

“You overcharged me and probably everyone else here!” he yelled, waving his arm at the now huge gathering surrounding him. He then turned to the policemen. “You’ve got to do something.”

The one of the stunned policemen said something in Italian to the two salesmen, glancing and nodding his head toward the protestor. They then made a glance at the woman who was with the man, nodded their heads in acknowledgement, and began to chuckle. The woman bowed her head shyly while the policemen nodded their head toward her. They then looked back at the man and chuckled some more. That’s never a good sign.

“Don’t tell me you believe them?” the man said. “This is a corrupt government! You are allowing them to rip people off!” He looked over to all of us for help, but no one was willing to step forward. After all, I was used to being ripped off for water.

It’s awfully hard to win your case when you yell at the police.

“This is ridiculous! C’mon, honey! These corrupt policemen are no help. They’re probably getting a cut. If you all want to be ripped off, go ahead!” and he stormed off with the woman in tow, who no doubt was embarrassed and willing to do anything to get out of there.

Shortly, our charter bus arrived and we all eagerly got on the bus, still chirping about the man’s tirade and how we wished he had secretly won as our waters would have been cheaper. Nonetheless, once the bus got moving, everyone was soon silent as we were all whipped from being rushed through what seemed like all of Italy in a day.

Overall, Celebrity’s Capri/Sorrento/Pompeii tour was too heavy. I think we could have done it ourselves without having to wait for everyone to make it back to the waiting area. The entire tour had a “hurry up and wait” feel to it. The Godfather pushed us hard and then we had to wait another thirty minutes to an hour for him to finish his drink and get started again. The entire tour lasts ten hours and you feel every second of it when you hit the ship.

We were exhausted. When we got back on the boat, Ashley took a little nap before dinner while I visited the Oasis Grill by the pool. Again, every chair had either a towel on it or a very pale-skinned person who was now burnt in sections of their body. I decided on some ice cream and I sat down by the pool in the shade to write in my journal and listen to the Caribbean music playing in the Mediterranean. I’m not sure why that bothered me, but it was nothing compared to the music I heard that night. After all, tonight was our first midnight buffet and I wanted to enjoy myself.

I headed back to the cabin around 7:00 p.m. to get some rest before our dinner at 8:45 p.m. and Ashley was still asleep. It was hard to wake her up, but despite her pleadings and then name-calling, I managed to rouse her up in time for her to take a shower and get ready for Informal Night.

At dinner, Ashley and I arrived a few minutes early and easily found our table. We figured that the first night was always chaotic and things would slow down a little bit. We used the hand sanitizer provided (we did that every night) and our assistant waiter came right over and brought our menus, bread and water right away. We both ordered iced tea and that was the last time we did as he always had it ready for us every night thereafter.

We both looked around while waiting for Telma’s suggestions when we both discovered everyone around us. We noticed them from last night; however, they were more noticeable tonight. Ashley pointed out that everyone seemed to be bright red from the harsh Italian sun. She was correct! There were more sleeveless dresses on tonight and many of the men’s faces were bright red. No doubt the jackets many were wearing were probably uncomfortable from the sunburn.

Ashley sat facing the window with her back to the center of the cruise ship while I faced the interior. The people that we noticed tonight were all different. To Ashley’s right (and my left), we had an Englishman with his son and his son’s friend. The boys were not red at all, but the Englishman was burnt – almost lobster color. We would soon find out that the boys hardly ever left the ship or even get out into the sun by the pool. They must have been vampires. I ordered dishes with lots of garlic just in case.

He was a very affable chap (I’m trying the Queen’s English) and he seemed to enjoy his son’s company, but sadly his son seemed to be a greedy snot. I think he loved his dad, don’t get me wrong; however, I think he loved his dad better with money than without.

From our conversations with the Englishman, we gathered that he must have been divorced, that he traveled around the world on business and did very well for himself financially. Every night, he always ordered an expensive bottle of wine (according to the sommelier) and told us about his gambling losses on the cruise ship and his art purchases. It was sad to watch, really. He would look over at his son as if he wanted to discuss the day’s highlights with him only to see the top of the boy’s head as it was wolfing down the steak and French fries.

Behind me sat two families who had not known each other before the cruise but got along smashingly during dinner. One couple had a little rotund boy around ten years old who was full of life, enjoying himself and was a perfect gentleman. He looked like Big Poppa from earlier in the day, only a smaller version. We referred to him as Chunky Monkey the entire cruise because he was squirming in his seat like a monkey (plus, it’s fun to say). Also at the table was another couple about the same age as Chunky Monkey’s parents (young 40’s) who had a little girl who was about six and she sat as still as a church mouse. The girl sat quietly without talking to anyone, even when addresses and Chunky Monkey would talk to everyone and anyone who addressed him. He was the life of the party, but when no one asked him anything, we sat perfectly quiet and ate his meal.

We didn’t have a name for the girl, although she dressed like Cinderella every night.

In front of the Englishman and behind his son sat a very rowdy group of ten or twelve people. This group all knew each other and were always laughing and telling stories. Their waiters and assistant waiters must have been trained to deal with these type of groups because they just served and got out of the way. There was no chit chat or friendly banter – just serve the drinks, get the food to them and move on to the next course. I think this table finished their meals on the first and second nights in about thirty-five minutes. They then left their boisterous table and headed off into the night, cackling and laughing, leaving the rest of us to enjoy our meals.

Lastly, to my right and Ashley’s left sat the Glamorous Family. Papa Hollywood and Mama Moneybags and their two daughters, Paris and Nikki, sat down and barely touched any of their food. Granted, the only time that we saw all four of them at the same time was the first and last nights. Throughout the cruise, one, two or all of them were absent and often leaving the food untouched or even with just a bite taken from it. They must have willpower out the wazoo (whatever a wazoo is) because the food was delicious and I could never eat just a bite. Sometimes I had thirds.

Telma came over and gave us her suggestions (“You cannot go wrong with the roast sirloin or the garlic-marinated lamb”) and we feasted that night, complete with me having an additional appetizer (how can you pass up the shrimp cocktail?) and a second helping of tiramisu. So much for saving myself for the Fruit and Sherbet Midnight Buffet.

Ashley was dog-tired and so I put her to bed and trotted off to catch the evening’s performance, internationally-acclaimed instrumentalist Hannah Starosta. She was a violist who was very good and played with the Celebrity orchestra. The show was a little over an hour and after the show, she was hawking her CDs in the lobby. I thought she was good, but not enough to plunk down $20.00 for a CD. Others were buying them and she signed them, which was nice.

It was now around midnight and I headed up to see the buffet spread. The rhythms of music were already greeting me before I even got to the Resort Deck. I walked around the displays with Ashley’s camera (you never know what will happen) and took pictures of all of the fruit carvings. They were amazing! I saw monkeys, ducks, lovebirds, swans, flowers and everything else imaginable carved out of fruits and vegetables. I must have looked like an idiot taking pictures of everything, dodging people with skewers who were stabbing at cut up fruit and very upset that I got between their plate and their fruit.

After my Glamour Shots session, I grabbed some fruit myself and headed up to the Sky Deck overlooking the party happening down below me. People who should have no business dancing were getting down with the band who crucified “Mambo #5” and “All Night Long” by Lionel Richie. The band was horrible, but nobody cared. I saw teens who were dancing with their new summer crushes, wallflowers who had not gotten enough nerve to join in (but had enough nerve to have ten large bowls of fruit and bread) and carefree adults who clearly had no problem showing off their new dance skills that they learned at Seinfeld’s Elaine Benes Dance Academy.

I sat on one of the lounge chairs and watched through the railing all of the fun going on downstairs. I thought about going back to the room and putting one of our towels on the seat to screw up someone’s “claim,” but thought better of it.

As I sat there with my journal and fruit watching everyone else have a great time, I began to notice that oftentimes, I am too busy doing something instead of enjoying the moment. I don’t spend time with myself; I watch others, take notes, or make sure Ashley is having a great time. I can’t remember the last time that I did what I wanted to do, not what needed to be done. If I wanted to just sit there in a vegetative state, I could do that.

While the lead singer of the foreign band was screeching “Livin’ La Vida Loca” (“her shkin is colla mocha; she’s liva la weeda looka”) in an accent that was impossible to figure out or understand, that I made a decision. I was going to enjoy myself for the rest of the trip, no matter the consequences. If I wanted to just sit around and read or play games or visit a lecture, I was going to do that. I was going to be myself for the rest of the trip.

The band began murdering “Dancing Queen” and screwing the lyrics up (“she can dance, she can cry, having the time of your wife”) and I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed some fruit to go and walked toward our cabin with a new-found attitude on life.

I would need the energy anyway because on a sea day, I would need all the energy I could get to deal with all of those different personalities.

[Linda-B]

Love reading your journal. I just found it today on the Celebrety board and had to go back to start from post 1. (What an enjoyable afternoon I've had)

My husband and I do lots of traveling (both land and cruise) and have had many similar interactions and adventures that you and Ashley have had. I love reading and hearing about people who really enjoy experiencing travel.

Keep the journal coming. It is fun, entertaining and informative.

Thanks

I would love to be able to travel with a roll aboard bag--it would solve lots of problems

 

 

http://boards.cruisecritic.com/showthread.php?t=520269

[LrdNorman]

I have enjoyed writing them. It hopefully will turn into a book one day...

 

The roll bag does help quite a bit -- especially when I'm carrying the luggage! :)

 

Kevin

[SheilaNC]

Went back to start from the beginning. Laughed til my sides hurt over the 'lost camera'. I've done that before and was so glad to know I wasn't the only one! Keep the chapters coming and tell us when the book is out!