June 17th – Travel to Dover Day—not something I’ve been looking forward to. More than anything, I’ve been anticipating that moment where we first walk up the gangplank, get greeted by the welcoming staff, and get handed that complimentary glass of champagne. But between me and that moment is a two hour van ride through the countryside.
Our driver is a nice lady, probably late fifties, and the van is comfortable enough. It’s equipped with a talking GPS device that she calls Veronica. I suck at small talk but Sarah and the family are up for the task, so I pop on headphones for a while and follow that up with a nap. Two hours later, I wake up glad that we’re almost there... except that we’re not. We discover that Veronica has totally shit the bed, taking us miles out of the way and running us in circles, and when the driver calls her dispatcher she finds out that we're somehow still two hours away. I'm thinking 2001 thoughts, pulling Veronica's memory chips out one by one as she sings Daisy, Daisy to me in an ever-weakening voice, but unfortunately it doesn't come to that.
Once that ordeal is over it’s all good though, because I’ve got that glass of champagne and I’m home. We unpack, and Sarah leads the tour of the boat, deck to deck and bow to stern. Then it’s time for the dreaded muster drill. By law, cruise ships have to run a drill where the passengers are summoned down to muster stations and shown how to put on a goddamn lifejacket. And it’s mandatory. I’d been swearing for months that I’d skip it, but Sarah wants me to go, and her mom is very Follow The Rules, so I keep the peace and tag along. In the end, it’s actually sort of fun. The jackets have a small light that’s supposed to light up when the receptor cord touches water. I test this out on my tongue, and to the amusement of all, it works. Sarah’s dad, Scientist Man, is very excited: “Dave just demonstrated the Principal of Galvanic Action.” But then when I say, “I’m probably not the first guy to put my tongue on this thing,” he agrees and adds, “Yeah, the last guy probably had syphilis.”
June 18th – First day at sea.
June 19th – Oslo. At breakfast, we’re told that Sarah’s mom sprung out of bed at five in the morning, threw open the curtains and exclaimed, “Fjords!” This becomes the day’s catch phrase.
It’s a drizzly day as we disembark, but it's the only bad weather we’ll have for the cruise. Oslo strikes me as a city that’s properly laid out, as if they'd envisioned the advent of the automobile long before they came to be. The buildings are old, beautiful designed, but not ostentatious. It’s a remarkably clean city as well, and the people are beautiful. Even the storefront mannequins give me Norwegian Wood. (Come on; I couldn't resist.) During the previous day’s destination lecture, we were given a few interesting facts about the country. It’s affluent but socially minded, and so all schooling, from kindergarten to University, is federally funded. Life expectancy is unusually high; you have to be sixty-seven to be considered a senior. And the crime rate is remarkably low, to the point where crime is not just unexpected but something they’re unprepared for. Example: in August of 2004 criminals walked into the Munch Museum in broad daylight and walked out with Munch's “The Scream.” It's still missing to this day.
There are two museum stops today. One is theNorwegian Folk Museum Viking Museum Lot of sleeping on sodden wood, a whole lot of rowing and bailing, not nearly as much rape and pillage as the recruiters had you believe.
Our driver is a nice lady, probably late fifties, and the van is comfortable enough. It’s equipped with a talking GPS device that she calls Veronica. I suck at small talk but Sarah and the family are up for the task, so I pop on headphones for a while and follow that up with a nap. Two hours later, I wake up glad that we’re almost there... except that we’re not. We discover that Veronica has totally shit the bed, taking us miles out of the way and running us in circles, and when the driver calls her dispatcher she finds out that we're somehow still two hours away. I'm thinking 2001 thoughts, pulling Veronica's memory chips out one by one as she sings Daisy, Daisy to me in an ever-weakening voice, but unfortunately it doesn't come to that.Once that ordeal is over it’s all good though, because I’ve got that glass of champagne and I’m home. We unpack, and Sarah leads the tour of the boat, deck to deck and bow to stern. Then it’s time for the dreaded muster drill. By law, cruise ships have to run a drill where the passengers are summoned down to muster stations and shown how to put on a goddamn lifejacket. And it’s mandatory. I’d been swearing for months that I’d skip it, but Sarah wants me to go, and her mom is very Follow The Rules, so I keep the peace and tag along. In the end, it’s actually sort of fun. The jackets have a small light that’s supposed to light up when the receptor cord touches water. I test this out on my tongue, and to the amusement of all, it works. Sarah’s dad, Scientist Man, is very excited: “Dave just demonstrated the Principal of Galvanic Action.” But then when I say, “I’m probably not the first guy to put my tongue on this thing,” he agrees and adds, “Yeah, the last guy probably had syphilis.”
June 18th – First day at sea.
Number of times Sarah’s day expressed his fear that he might not enjoy cruising: Forty-eight
Days on board before Sarah’s dad pronounced, “I love cruising!”: One and a half
Number of days before Sarah’s parents booked their next cruise: Three
June 19th – Oslo. At breakfast, we’re told that Sarah’s mom sprung out of bed at five in the morning, threw open the curtains and exclaimed, “Fjords!” This becomes the day’s catch phrase.
It’s a drizzly day as we disembark, but it's the only bad weather we’ll have for the cruise. Oslo strikes me as a city that’s properly laid out, as if they'd envisioned the advent of the automobile long before they came to be. The buildings are old, beautiful designed, but not ostentatious. It’s a remarkably clean city as well, and the people are beautiful. Even the storefront mannequins give me Norwegian Wood. (Come on; I couldn't resist.) During the previous day’s destination lecture, we were given a few interesting facts about the country. It’s affluent but socially minded, and so all schooling, from kindergarten to University, is federally funded. Life expectancy is unusually high; you have to be sixty-seven to be considered a senior. And the crime rate is remarkably low, to the point where crime is not just unexpected but something they’re unprepared for. Example: in August of 2004 criminals walked into the Munch Museum in broad daylight and walked out with Munch's “The Scream.” It's still missing to this day.
There are two museum stops today. One is the
Fun Boat Fact
Starboard is so named because it’s the side where your steering board was. And you brought your ship to port on the opposite side of that so that you didn’t tear the bejesus out of your steering board.
Comments
Also, should they really tell a bunch of foreigners, "No one here expects crime!" Isn't that kind of like saying "So, pick a few pockets while you are here!"?
Perhaps not as enertaining though.
AND --- I LOVE FJORDS!! In pictures, that is. I haven't ever seen one in person. But they're on my list.
That was probably too munch.
Your blog needs theme music.
But Dave, I thought you were like any man, only more so?
Dave is a man.
An ordinary man, but moreso.
He wears clothes in the "extra medium" size range.