Nautica Impressions HKG to ATH

[meow!]

While your voyage is 35 days and most world cruises (we have not been on one) are supposed to be 100+ days, I am sure you have had the most exotic portion of any world cruise! What is left compared to other world cruise itineraries may be crossing the oceans, the Mediterranean, the Panama Canal, and perhaps the northern edge of Australasia or Japan and China. I believe you must have been to those places before. So in "segments" you have been around the world. I don't think we have the means (in several aspects) to do what you have accomplished! It is nice to read your account, if it were in film, it would be like a National Geographic program.

[Aussie Gal]

Jack,

 

I am so sorry your wonderful journey is coming to an end. I have enjoyed reading every word and as you know I have printed each episode out, am now up to number 15 to reread many times over the next few months.

 

I will always think of you on our Wedding Anniversary and send a silent "Happy Birthday" to you across the thousands of miles separating us.

 

I hope everything positive works out for both you and Ty and look forward to reading another wonderful saga when you next cruise.

 

Thanks for taking us with you this time.

 

Jennie

[ChatKat in Ca.]

I wish you and yours a safe journey home to the Stars and Stripes and to Ty and your beloved Wheaten.

 

We experience Nautica next month. I am sure your many comments will replay in our head during our Istanbul to Athens cruise.

 

Thank you for sharing your cruise and wonderful writings with us.

[lagunaman]

I have also been an ardent fan of your superbly composed travelogue, EXTRA specially interesting for me due to my brother and his wife sailing with you.

 

In fact I had an e mail this morning, from my sister in law, telling me that her writing prowess is incomparable compared to Jack's and to read about their magical visit to Petra, click on to Cruise Critic, I actually do so daily!!!

 

So thank you for enabling me to follow their journey since seeing them here (unfortunately I nearly caused them to be stranded in Phuket, Songkran causes horrendous traffic chaos) and I take this opportunity to wish you and your family a very safe journey home and trust that you will continue to post your future travel stories on this site.

 

Sawsdee from the Land of Smiles :)

 

P.S. Looking forward to your Cairo report, a long time since I was there.

[esther e]

Jack, rather than getting some much needed sleep, I sit here at 2:47AM reading your wonderful postings. I have printed out everything and will re-read them often.

 

I wish you and your family safe travels and pray Ty is well.

 

I look forward to photos when you post them, also.

 

Esther

[monina01]

again what a wonderfull post. I cannot believe this journey is soon coming to an end....as I read this last post, I really felt I could see through your eyes and almost smell and hear the surroundings....

 

thank you once again....

[lahore]

The other day I was reading a book called 'Culture Shock Australia'', thinking of using it with some of our overseas students. One of the first comments for people doing business in Australia was 'Don't try to impress an Australian, ...they are cynical and have well tuned 'bull$#!+ meters, and are very hard to impress'. As a generalisation, I think this is a fair enough comment. But you've impressed this Australian Jack, you have entertained us, given us a wonderful vicarious travel experience and remained humble throughout both your travels and the well deserved accolades you have recieved. Thanks, may the peace and blessings of all the Gods of the world be upon you and your loved ones.

[aneka]

Hi Jack,

I have just copied and pasted your wonderful travel notes into a word document (74 Pages so far!), so that I could save it for future reference. What a great diary of a very special trip. Thank you for your personal and warm reflections during this trip. I will look forward to reading the final installments and seeing any pictures you post after you return home.

Annette

[PennyAgain]

Jack, your writing is magic. Certainly a great pleasure to read and to savor. Today is Wednesday. I have good thoughts going to Ty and wish you a happy home coming.

 

I have long wished to visit Petra. You have given me a wonderful tour. My thanks!

 

Please keep writing when you get home.

[Wendy The Wanderer]

Really Jack, you should compile your journal and get it published somewhere. You're a really gifted story teller.

[molomare]

Jack, I recently found your postings, while messaging to Lahore. We will be joining them Nov 24th on our 27 day Nautica cruise Rome to Singapore. I could never put into words the joy I have experienced following your journey. There is so much talent in you, Jack - pathos, humor and a strong sense of the true appreciation of life's privilege bestowed upon you and your family. I, too, feel as if I know you. Thanks for the "head's up" on some of the same ports we will be traveling to. My best regards to your wonderful Mom and Dad, (we are a just a little older than your mom and dad), and prayers for you and Ty. Sincerely, Marcia Neiman :)

[merryecho]

Jack, it has been wonderful getting to know you, if only electronically. Isn't it funny how life brings you wonderful things when you are least expecting them? Who knew that on this trip, along with treasured moments with your parents, you would find abundant confirmation that you have a gift for writing? Thank you for sharing some of your most personal thoughts with us, as well as a few details most of us might have left out (OK, I am talking about the heat rash powder). This would be the point where you say "go Trojans", if you went to USC, but as Fairhaven alumnae I don't think we have an equivalent. The only thing close to a motto I remember is 'pass that -----over here'.

Jack's Mom- it sounds like Jack gave you his share of gray hairs in his younger days. What a joy it must be to see him grown into a talented,caring person and loving son.

 

Please keep us posted on Ty's progress, he has the good wishes of many people on his side.

[cathi]

Jack - I have just spent over 2 hours reading the last half of this thread!!! It is incredible!!!!! A link was posted on our roll call for next year's cruise and I started to read it a week ago and got tied up with the real world (you know the stuff - work, family, living!). You have an amazing ability to cut to the heart of things. We will surely do some of the things you have talked about in the different ports. Not sure I want to do the Luxor trip after your description but am waiting for the Cairo report. Keep up the incredible work!

Cathi

[JackfromWA]

THE PYRAMIDS AND SPHINX (CAIRO)

 

Three thirty a.m my cabin phone rang from across the dark stateroom. Fumbling in the dark I found it.

 

“Are you up yet,” my dad asked in a far-too-alert-for-the-hour voice.

 

“Yep, I am already awake,” I lied.

 

The night before I had ordered a glass of milk from room service to compliment the box of cereal and bowl I had stashed from yesterday’s breakfast. The milk, cereal and a croissant purloined from the Nautica Lounge were my meal. My Prickly Heat Powder and New Balance hiking shoes were on the couch. I had everything prepared before I went to bed so following my morning ablutions I could sprinkle the Prickly Heat Powder, put on my shoes and clothes, and get to the bus on time.

 

The burning of the Prickly Heat Powder was comforting—the multiple sprinkling applications and aftermath have reached the “hurt so good” stage— as I intended to walk around the Pyramids and Sphinx in the intense Cairo heat. The forecast was 100 degrees Fahrenheit; one more blazing hot shore excursion.

 

A group of us have commandeered the last bus on the past few shore excursions. By going last we make sure we get to ride together, and it is much easier to make and fulfill a plan to be last then it is to always successfully be first. Frank aka Lumpy and his wife Becca are now part of the group on the last bus, so the past few shore excursions we have spent more time together. On the trip to Petra and Wadi Rum, they left their camera on the bus with over seven hundred pictures (most of their trip), so yesterday I made a DVD-ROM of 1,200 of our pictures to share with them.

 

About 5 a.m. Becca came up and sat behind me for a few minutes to thank me for the photos. I decided I needed to tell her about writing about Frank. The unforeseen popularity of this thread—some passengers have passed parts of it around on the ship and some fellow guests have come up to me and asked that I write about how expensive the medical doctor is, or that I mention their favorite staff member favorably; I politely explain I don’t have any influence they should write it on their comment card—makes it inevitable that some day Frank and Becca will hear about, and probably read my portrayal and description of my initial encounters with Frank. So, I thought I should address it head on and explain that though I stand by my writing, if she keeps reading she’ll see I realized there is more to Frank then first meets the eye. As the darkness faded and the early light gently lit the desert sky, we discussed my writing, moved on to more interesting topics, and eventually both took naps.

 

Around seven I needed to use the bathroom. The layout was identical to the bus in Luxor, but when I opened the bathroom door I was assaulted with the nauseous smell of warm urine and feces. Most fruit or vegetable field outhouses smell better. Despite a natural aversion to locking the door and containing the odor, my need for privacy prevailed and I pulled the door toward me to lock it. Just as the latch touched the door, something sprayed me full on in the face. OUCH! I shouted. My glasses were covered with liquid and my first thought was the sewer pipe was leaking. Instead I realized I had been hit directly in the face with an automatic battery operated totally useless air freshener sprayer—the bathroom needed much more olfactory help than any artificial scent could supply. I did my best to remain upright as the bus swayed left to right; the slick floor made traction difficult. Fortunately my trusted hiking shoes have sure footing, even in urine-drenched floors. I got out of there as quickly as possible—I was trying to hold my breath while peeing—and slammed the door shut behind me.

 

My mother was holding a small bottle of anti-bacterial gel that I gratefully rubbed over my hands. Frank was looking for my reaction as he watched me leap out of the bathroom—he had already been in there—and as my mom squeezed the gel into my hands he enthusiastically nodded his head in approval.

 

“That is one of the five worst bathrooms I have ever been in,” Frank said. “It is nasty!”

 

If I had rented the bus I would have demanded a new bus or a refund. The bathroom was unacceptable before we boarded for the trip to Cairo—we were living in the sewage and stench of the buses previous riders. Word got around quickly and it was the least used bathroom I have ever seen on a three and a half hour bus ride.

 

“Are you starting to wake up?” our guide asked over the PA system. “So who knows how many Pharaohs built the pyramids.”

 

“Why doesn’t she just tell us,” Judy a fellow passenger muttered. “I am getting tired of all these guides asking questions. If I knew the answers I wouldn’t need to listen to these fools, I could run the tour myself.”

 

The guide went on with her inane questions and Cairo & Pyramids 101 history lecture. Finally she told us that today each of us were her “special pharaoh’s” and she was thrilled to serve us. “How do you like that? You are all my pharaoh’s today,” she enthusiastically gushed. She then proceeded to work the bus aisle with her pitch for cartouche sales—both tour guides I encountered in Egypt wore the most expensive gold cartouche their catalog sells, and pressure you to buy from them—I successfully countered my status as a captive sales audience by shutting my eyes and pretending to sleep.

 

Around 9 a.m. we reached Sakkara. I knew the pyramids at Sakkara were no match for the Giza Pyramids—going to the Sakkara pyramids after seeing the Giza Pyramids would be as pointless as spending an afternoon at the San Diego Zoo shortly after returning home from a two week East African Wildlife Safari—but they were even more disappointing then I expected. In hindsight I would have rather gone to the Egyptian Museum and seen King Tuts treasures again—I saw them on a high school field trip to Seattle in 1978. In their decrepit state, the pyramids looked like they could have been the remains of a long weekend of heavy backhoe and crane work.

 

The Temple at Sakkara was more interesting then the small pyramids. It was the first large stone surface I saw in Egypt that is still polished and gleaming. The stone façade of the Temple entrance is similar to the smooth, gleaming, rich gold tinted surface of the cobblestones in Dubrovnik.

 

Since Frank and Becca didn’t have a camera, I volunteered to share today’s photos and take their pictures at the Sphinx and Giza Pyramids. “I want to make one of those crazy David Letterman pictures,” Frank excitedly told me. “You know a HI MOM,” Frank said as he made a funny face while frantically waving his hand. I burst out laughing. Frank is a gifted professional at making entertaining funny faces. I snapped his “Letterman photo” with the small pyramid behind him.

 

“Hey mom,” I asked. “Will you take a picture of Frank and I in front of this tomb? Frank and I want to make a funny picture.” She obliged and I knelt down, forced my face into an unnatural smile and waved like a madman. Frank did the same as my mom snapped away. I showed Frank the results.

 

“That’s great!” He exclaimed. “You just wait till we get to the Sphinx we’re going to really make a great picture together there!” It was fun—it felt good to enjoy Frank’s company. Since we were getting along so well, I decided I could ask him something personal about his ‘Leave it to Beaver’ days.

 

“Frank, can I ask you a ‘Leave It to Beaver’ question?”

 

“211 Pine,” he quickly answered mistakenly thinking I was testing his trivia recall from the show.

 

“No,” I laughed. “I wanted to know about Mr. Cleaver. When I watched the show Hugh Beaumont seemed like such a nice man. Was he anything like that in real life?”

 

Standing in the pharaoh’s tomb Frank’s eyes momentarily looked faraway and for a moment he almost seemed misty eyed.

 

“Those were wonderful days,” he quietly reflected. “Everyone was pretty much like they were on the show. Hugh was a wonderful, wonderful man. He was so good to all of us. It was a special time.” As Frank shared a few other memories with me I thought about what life must have been like for him. He was famous at puberty and for the rest of his life he was intrinsically linked to Lumpy’s character. His show business fame was prior to actors receiving significant residuals for reruns, so unlike the set-for-life cast of ‘Everybody Loves Raymond’, or other shows from the late 80’s to the present, Frank and the rest of the actors from ‘Leave it to Beaver’ never earned significant royalties. When the show ended they were dependent on their own ability to get work. Frank served in the military, became a successful bond trader, married well, and made himself a good life. Unlike so many young actors, Frank avoided the pitfalls of childhood celebrity. A few weeks ago he celebrated his 65th birthday in the Polo Grill, surrounded by some friends and his loving wife. Frank did pretty well for himself, I thought. I respected him and I appreciated that the 35-day cruise gave me enough time to get past his cantankerous exterior and see some of his warm, inner personality.

 

“Thanks Frank,” I said. “We are going to make an amazing picture at the Sphinx.” I joined my parents for a few more photos and we got on the bus to go to Cairo for lunch.

 

As we left Sakkara we passed the Nile Carpet School. It might be interesting to see a school for young people learning to make carpets, I thought. A few hundred yards later I saw the Oriental Carpet School, followed by the Ramses Carpet School, Valley of the Kings Carpet School, Pyramid Carpet School, and El Sultan Carpet School¬—apparently I was in the educational epicenter of carpet schools. Quickly I reached the obvious conclusion that the “schools” were contrived tourist attractions to separate us from our money. My first clue should have been all the signs written in English instead of Arabic. I changed my mind about wanting to visit them, and I was glad we didn’t have to stop.

 

As we drove through the streets I watched the everyday life of local Egyptians. Litter was rampant, and since air conditioning appeared non-existent most doors and windows were open. The building exteriors were concrete with paint faded from the sun, and old wrought iron grates covered most windows and doors. The street level was mostly businesses with small stores selling vegetables, rice, fruit or Coca-Cola. The upstairs were living quarters. I saw a man pulling an engine from an old car. He had positioned a child swing set over the hood of the vehicle and attached a heavy chain from around the long bar at the top of the triangular shaped swing to the dangling engine. It didn’t look very safe; engines are heavy. I doubt they have workers comp insurance or OSHA safety requirements here, I thought.

 

As we whisked by in our convoy of eleven air-conditioned tourist buses, jeeps with rifle-toting soldiers stationed at either end, small children waved, and local watched with mild curiosity as the parade of Americans drove past their homes, businesses and mosques.

 

We arrived at Memphis and saw a 100-ton reclining statue of Ramses II. The detail was beautiful—his chest was rippled with muscles, and his sinewy legs were strong and handsome. Time had taken its toll. His right side was mostly unscathed but his left side was pockmarked and mottled—as if stone eating termites had voraciously attacked his arms and leg. Even a stone statue of Ramses doesn’t last forever, I mused.

 

Outside was a statue garden. There was a small stone sphinx and Frank and I did a rehearsal shot for our big photo in front of the large, famous Sphinx later that afternoon.

 

“Come on my pharaoh’s, shake a leg.” Our guide instructed as she attempted to herd us back to the bus. If it weren’t so funny she would have annoyed me. “Now we are going to the hotel for lunch, then we will go to the Giza Pyramids and Sphinx.”

 

I climbed aboard the bus for the half hour ride to lunch. I was listening to my ipod when I overheard someone say, “Look! There are the pyramids.” I immediately turned but our bus moved too fast and I didn’t see them. I stared out the window like a hunter peering from his blind, carefully scanning the horizon for any sign of my pyramid prey. Trees, buildings and power lines clipped by my window at a rapid pace, but there were no sign of any pyramid. Momentarily there was an opening in the line of buildings and trees and like a mirage I caught my first glimpse of the Great Pyramid of Cheops. An electric charge ran down my spine as I exulted in my first glimpse. Scanning even more intently I waited, and then there it was again! No wait… I see two of them! As quickly as they appeared they were gone. For about a minute my eyes danced with the pyramids—they appeared for a moment and then vanished as the building obstructed them from view. My intent focus paid off as we passed a clearing and for a few seconds I could see all three Giza Pyramids in their magnificent, solitary, ancient glory. There they were! I couldn’t believe I was actually seeing them. As we drew closer to the hotel, we drew closer to the Pyramids. My view improved and soon I was within a quarter mile. I could see that the Pyramids were made of large blacks, and their surface wasn’t smooth. We pulled into the Le Meridien Pyramid View hotel for lunch. I didn’t want to eat; I wanted to go to the Pyramids!

 

“We are going to be here for one hour, then we are going to the Pyramids and Sphinx,” our guide told us. I decided to join my parents and friends for lunch. After quickly eating a little rice and potatoes I announced I was going to go outside and try to find a good view of the Pyramids and I would meet everyone at the bus.

 

“Mind if I go with you?” Bill asked.

 

“Of course not, lets go check it out,” I replied.

 

A hotel employee took us outside to a balcony and Bill and I caught our first good look at the Pyramids. We snapped some photos and Bill went back to join his wife. I grabbed a chair, put on my ipod and just sat there for twenty or thirty minutes. Looking. Thinking. Being at the Pyramids was so surreal that I needed to keep staring to convince myself I was really here and not just dreaming. The heat, flies and my dry throat convinced me I was awake and lucid. I was really at the Pyramids and I became overwhelmed with feelings. How did I get here? I wondered. The reality of standing in the shadow of the Giza pyramids humbled me in a way nothing else ever has. Soon the feeling passed and a calm wave of gratitude, joy and a desire to play washed over me.

 

The most significant feature about the Pyramids other then their appearance is their age. If someone could build them today they would be impressive, but knowing these were thousands and thousands of years old made my mind swim. When I go back home and pick up my life where I left off, the pyramids will still be here, I thought. When Moses left Egypt, Socrates and Plato lectured in Greece, when Jesus and Mohammed were alive, when Richard the Lionhearted was King, when the Mayflower came to America, when Lincoln gave the Gettysburg Address, when Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon, when everyone I have ever loved was born or died, the Pyramids stood here just as they stand here on May 3rd, 2007. They are the silent witness to everything. I recalled something my bother once said, “When you go on a field trip in 3rd grade to the Pickett House in Bellingham it seems pretty old. Then when you go to the East Coast up to Boston or Philadelphia and see buildings from the 1700’s, they seem really old. Then you go to Holland, Germany, France, Italy or England and see things from the twelve and thirteen hundreds and that seems pretty old. Finally you go to Greece and see the Acropolis and realize that is thousands of years old. Then you go to Egypt and see the Pyramids and realize this is it—this is the most ancient manmade monument on Earth.” Standing in their shadow I understood what he meant. I have made the trek.

 

I was enthralled with the Pyramids. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. Soon the buses left the hotel and we made the first of three stops. The first was near the base of the Great Pyramid of Cheops. Despite the haranguing, annoying camel jockeys, postcard sellers and conmen, I was in a child like state of unbridled bliss—I wanted to do and see everything. My parents and I snapped lots of photos, and we walked completely around the perimeter of the largest, the Cheops, Pyramid.

 

I have been socially conditioned to politely reply when asked, “Where are you from?” The conmen around the Pyramids know this, and that is almost always their opening line. One man tried to hand me a “free gift” and became upset me when I allowed it to drop from his camel and hit the ground rather than catch it. “You pick that up, I gave you a free gift!” he angrily yelled.

 

“I don’t want it, I didn’t ask for it, pick it up yourself,” I retorted.

 

Another salesman asked where I was from and I kept ignoring him. He continued to ask me and finally I blurted out, “Just go away. I don’t want to talk to you. It is against my religion.”

 

He looked at me strangely then angrily grabbed my forearm, dug his uncut fingernails in my flesh and said, “My friend you are very rude, I just want to know what country you are from.” As a whole the Egyptian and other Arabic people I have met are very hospitable, but the Egyptians hanging out at the base of the Pyramids are not there to make friends—they are there to extract money from tourists using any trick or ruse imaginable.

 

“LET GO OF MY ARM NOW!” I yelled, as I stood as tall, imposing and angry as possible. My glaring eyes said I would fight him if he didn’t let go immediately. He let go of my arm, mumbled some incomprehensible insult, and then looked at me with sad puppy dog eyes as if I had hurt his feelings! While I have been taught courtesy by my parents and teachers, courtesy doesn’t extend to being bullied, and the riffraff making a living exploiting travelers around the Pyramids are intimidating, rude bullies. If I approached tourists at the rim of the Grand Canyon and asked where they are from, solely to extract money from their pockets, I would rightfully deserve the same rejection I gave the rude sales and conmen loitering around the Pyramids.

 

The intense experience of basking in the Pyramids was so great that I quickly let go of my anger even as I continued to fend off the obnoxious touts while enjoying standing in the intoxicating presence of man’s oldest tourist attraction.

 

We returned to the bus and drove to a bluff where we could take photos of all three Pyramids. The perspective is the same as most of the postcards and photographs I have seen; the sense of déjà vu was uncanny. Although hundreds of people were simultaneously taking pictures, the Pyramids are large enough, and the distance is great enough, that without too much effort everyone got the perfect Pyramid photo trophy to take home. I was trying to get a picture of my mom, dad and I with the three Pyramids behind us but an Egyptian man kept inserting himself in the photo to earn some money. I kept making a go away motion with my hand, but like an obsessed fly he kept coming back. Finally in frustration I blurted out, “Here is a dollar, I am giving this to you to GO AWAY!” He accepted the dollar, stayed ten feet back, and the Italian and German tourists next to us all laughed. Although he acted as if is feelings were hurt, he kept my money and I think he was all smiles inside.

 

Our last stop was the Sphinx. Frank and I practically leapt out of the bus and toward our photo opportunity. Birds were nesting all around the Sphinx’s head. “I’d like to get a shotgun and get rid of all the birds,” Frank volunteered.We both gave our best David Letterman pose, and my mom and dad snapped away. My mom and dad tried to replicate Frank and my zany picture, but neither of them have Frank’s talent for hilarious goofy pictures. I took a few more photos of Frank and Becca, them left with my parents to see the Sphinx up close.

 

As we were leaving I wanted to take a few more pictures of my mom, dad, the Sphinx and I. We had the perfect pose, but unfortunately no photographer. An Egyptian post card salesman offered to take the picture.

 

“I don’t want any money friend,” he assured me. I didn’t trust him. I have a $2,000 Nikon, the bus was leaving in a few minutes and though I knew he would probably return the camera, tourist horror stories abound of cameras being held ransom. I told him no thank you and asked a French tourist to help. The Egyptian man gave me a disgusted look, I genuinely felt bad I had offended him, as I believe he probably would have returned the camera promptly, but in the same circumstances I would do the same thing again.

 

As we left the Sphinx I turned around and stole one last view of the immortal Sphinx prominently seated in front of all three Giza Pyramids.

 

“Look mom, we have been seeing this picture all our lives,” I said. It was the perfect view capturing the Egyptian mystery I have lived with since early childhood.

 

We both turned for a moment, took in our last perfect view of the Sphinx flanked by the three Giza Pyramids, then boarded the bus for our three and a half hour ride home to Nautica.

 

Most everyone fell asleep on the bus; it had been an early morning, hot, stimulating day and a long ride home ahead. My mom had carried a small travel pillow and was sleeping on it across the aisle from my dad. My dad was sleeping in the seat in front of me, his head leaned against the hot window glass. I should take a nap too, I thought. I had brought my black Patagonia fleece to use as a pillow, and I stood in the aisle to remove it from the overhead shelf. As I was rolling it into a comfortable pillow ball, I notice my father again. He was asleep, resting his weary head on the glass as the bus bounced down the highway

 

“Dad,” I whispered. He didn’t move. “Dad,” I said a little louder.

 

He looked up at me with a startled expression. “Here, use this,” I said as I handed him the rolled up fleece pillow I’d intended to use for myself. “It will be a lot more comfortable then the bus glass.”

 

He tiredly nodded his thanks, placed the pillow between his head and the bus window and nodded back to sleep.

 

Things are changing, I thought. Every shore excursion my seventy-five year old father takes care of my mom and I by carrying a collapsible cooler stocked with water and diet coke, distributing little Dutch coffee candies as pick-me-ups and always generously offering to carry our purchases. My mother offers anti-bacterial when I leave germ infested foul smelling lavatories, she has braved Nautica’s laundry room to wash my socks and underwear, she always offers clean towels when I am sweating and cool water, granola bars, fruit or candy when I am thirsty and hungry. The ingrained habit of caring for their son runs deep in both of them, and I was pleased that today, for the first time I can recall, instead of taking the pillow I brought for my comfort, I instinctively gave my pillow to my dad for his comfort. My parents and I are in that short, natural span of time when they can still take care of me, and I am just beginning to instinctively desire to take care of them. I hope our balance continues for a long time—I think it will last longer than average as both of them are in good health and work hard to have alert minds and health bodies—as the next evolution is too painful to think about.

 

When we arrived at the ship the band joyfully greeted us with a resounding version of ‘When the Saints Come Marching In,’ and many familiar faces warmly greeted us as we walked up the plank one last time. I turned to Kirk and asked, “Wasn’t that the best $139 you ever spent on any shore excursion anywhere in the world?” He nodded in agreement, a smile on his face as he enthusiastically gave me two thumbs up.

 

I packed one suitcase two days ago—it contained all the breakables and gifts—so packing my suitcase today won’t take long. I plan to walk around this afternoon, showing pictures to Frank, Becca, Kirk, Tony, Bill, Nancy, Sandy, Bob and Carol, and bid my friends and the crew good bye.

 

The last day of a cruise is always bittersweet, none more so than this one, as after 35-days I feel like I belong on Nautica, but I have another home beckoning me too. I miss Ty, I miss my friends at home, and I can’t wait to walk in the front door, have my dog attack me with his unbounded joy, and hug Ty. It is better to leave the ship while part of me still wants to remain aboard, but I couldn’t stand a consecutive cruise with new passengers. I would only stay here if all my friends, acquaintances and the same crew remained. I sure wish there was a Star Trek transporter that would transfer my luggage and I from my cabin on Nautica to my front door step in a millisecond, as I don’t look forward to all the flights, airports, immigration checkpoints and sleep deprivation ahead.

 

Tonight I am having dinner with Sukey and later I plan to drink to much caffeine and stay up late, wandering Nautica’s silent corridors as we make our final approach into Athens. Now it’s time to quit writing and enjoy my last afternoon at sea.

 

Thanks for reading.

[Rob & Beckys mom]

:) I will miss you and your writings that I look for first thing each morning after signing on to my computer. Have safe flights home & please let us all know that you all made it home safe & sound. Keeping Ty in our thoughts & prayers.

 

I have enjoyed your cruise so much, and I wanted you to know that I appreciate you taking the time to share it with us all.

 

Best to you & yours,

Jan

[orchestrapal]

:) Thanks so much for a wonderful account of your trip.

You made each port and activity so real for those of us waiting to go on our own journeys.

We leave Sunday for 27 days on Regatta and can't wait to chronicle our own experiences.

Enjoy all your memories of a great trip and thank you for sharing them with us.:)

[lahore]

Thanks again Jack, you have made everyone's life so much more enjoyable - you took the time to share your travel enjoyment, and I hope it pays back double fold. I hope Ty is well, and that you get to go back to those places and many more together.

 

My readings have also been self -centred, because we go on the same cruise in the opposite (not same actually, but very similar) direction in November. I am now 100% convinced (I was 90% convinced) that I definitely won't go on any of the ships tours in Egypt or the middle east. Not that you made them sound so utterly terrible or anything, just you painted a picture that I know is not my scene (mostly on the bus, to do with guides and being forced to go for lunch, shopping when you don't want to, being stuck in a convoy all the time, etc.). I have organised individual tours except for Luxor which I think I'll skip in favour of a local camel market down the road from Safaga. Anyway this isn't about me, it's about you, but in what you have done the relevance for many of us is also about our planning. So thanks on many levels. Lahore (Lyn)

[Emdee]

Dear Frank, like many readers of this wonderful travelogue I think that you should do something special for Jack. A lot of us have been so inspired by his journeys that we will be travelling on Oceania - in fact I have myself booked two cruises . A wonderful cruise or two for Jack and Ty with the promise of a another travelogue ..... Travels with Jack .....would be a nice treat for both Jack & Ty as well as a rewarding read for his many fans.

 

Alternatively, I am sure you can arrange for one of the travel magazines to buy his slightly rewritten episodes complete with pictures of the journey as well maybe as a series.

 

For any writer the reward of writing is the enjoyment of his readers and I know Jack has had plenty of that .... something more tangible would be nice as well.

 

Miriam

[Saga Ruby]

Several people have talked about their upcoming repo cruises on the itinerary of what we all now think of as "Jack’s Trip." Herewith are my personal experiences with the vendors at the Giza Plateau which were similar to Jack’s encounters.

 

Last December at the Pyramids, my guide and I were talking about the history of the Great Pyramid when a postcard vendor walked up to us. I bought a set of 12 cards and was turning away when the man "gave" me a tiny foil-wrapped pyramid and an Arab headdress wrapped in plastic. "Free gift for you! Free gift for you!" I was prepared mentally for these tactics before I ever got to the Giza Plateau so I shook my head and walked away.

 

The vendor pursued me, taking the cheap headdress out of the plastic, assembling it, then suddenly jamming it onto my head. I was silently furious that a Muslim male would touch a woman like that when it is contrary to every cultural tenet in Islam and a telling sign of disrespect.

I whirled around, took off the headdress, and told the vendor I would give him one American dollar to leave me alone. He agreed. Throughout this entire episode, my female guide was saying, "Shukrun, shukrun" which is "Thank you." It was her sole defense against the male hawker’s aggressive tactics. In Giza, it was money before courtesy, greed above all.

 

I could guess that the hawkers and vendors have a quota to fill each day which goes to their managers who own the sales permits at the Pyramids. The local attitude must be that we tourists are there for a few hours, the vendors are there for eternity.

 

As Jack put it so well, one is overwhelmed just to be walking amongst the sands of ancient history, even if only for a brief moment in time. I can tell you that in December there was no heat at all and I was surprised at the sparse numbers of international tourists, although there were busloads of Egyptian school children visiting the Plateau. Fortunately, I never had problems with aggressive tour guides or bus drivers pushing their personal agendas for sales commissions.

 

Back onboard Nautica, a couple mentioned that they had bought a camel ride at the Pyramids and wore Santa hats to have photos made for their Christmas cards back home. I asked how much the ride cost and they said it was ten dollars to ride, then "$150 to get back down!"

 

I now know that I’m glad I sailed on the eastbound repo. Those first few days in Cairo and then Luxor overnight were thrilling for me yet exhausting. What a treat it was later onboard Nautica to sit front and center in Horizons and watch in complete comfort as we transited the Suez Canal. That transit was a good "R&R" break which made me eager for Muscat, Dubai, and the many wonders to follow.

 

Jack’s empathy, humor, gentility, sense of adventure, and finely-detailed, personal reports have brought us all such great pleasure. Reading his posts was like watching those cliffhanger serials at the Saturday matinee. We are sad for "our" journey to end but happy for Jack as he turns westward toward home and his loved ones.

 

Thanks, Jack.

 

Ruby

[SeaCCruiser]

Jack, Eddie Haskell (Ken Osmond) was just on television a few nights ago talking about his ongoing friendship with Frank, and I think he said Frank is his stockbroker. It was so nice of you to replace their lost photos.

Thank you so much for regaling us with your insightful, and entertaining posts!

[hondorner]

Thanks, Jack, I enjoyed every report. I'll think of you often when we follow in your footsteps next year. I always thought of myself as introspective, but your sensitivity to deeper meanings will be an inspiration for me.

[meow!]

Jack - It is handy that your mother carries a bottle of hand sanitizer. We always carry a bottle on our trips (these days you have to check it in rather than carry on the plane unless it is less than 2 oz.) Keep a full size bottle in your luggage and a small bottle in your pocket. You never know when you need to wash your hands and there may not be suitable facilities. These sanitizers (different brands) mostly contain 60% alcohol in gel form, and presumably kill 99.9% of germs! I wonder if it is available in Third World countries?

[Lauren Spray]

Jack,

 

Thank you for sharing your wonderful journal. I enjoyed seeing the ports through your eyes. Best of all, you shared a part of yourself. That is what made reading your writing so memorable. I will be traveling on the same cruise as Lahore and Molomare. I was excited before, but now I can't wait for the experience.

 

I hope Ty gets a good report from his biopsy. He is in my thoughts and prayers.

 

Lauri

[carolhardy]

Hi JackfromWA just a quick note from CarolfromUK

 

I just have to write to thank you so much for all your wonderful posts from your trip. I have eagerly switched on my machine every morning and read all your reports and enjoyed them so much. I felt that I was there too on the trip. We were in Luxor just three weeks ago and your power of description is so good that I felt I was there again.

 

We are booked on Oceania in October. I was a bit nervous about the cruise line as its not that well known here in the UK but now I just can't wait and from your descriptions I know we are going to have a wonderful time.

 

Jack thankyou so much for taking the time to share your travels here on this board. You have given so many people a great deal of pleasure and I for one will miss my morning read. Have a safe journey home.

 

Kind Regards

 

Carol

[merryecho]

Jack, if you don't post those photos of you and Lumpy at the shpinx I will never forgive you.