Touch You Last

Day six of the cruise is Halifax, and we make no plans other than to see frieeeeeeends! I’d emailed Pat two weeks before (because I’m a disorganized piece of crap) to let him know we’d be in Halifax for the day… and would love to see him… but we understood that it was crazy last minute so no worries if he couldn’t… but we would love to see him, and further easygoing yet pleading statements followed by ellipses. Supercool guy that he is, he cleared his schedule for the day so he could be with us. It had been eleven damn years since we’d seen each other, when he’d passed through Ottawa on a road trip, and we were beyond overdue to meet up again. He met us near the dock, looking unaged in a way that was criminal (which did not surprise me in the least). I hugged him until he pooped, and then we went for a walk. There’s a very nice public park near his apartment and we started there, catching up a little bit on life and career stuff. Emerging from the park, he drew our attention to the

I love the way Sarah moves. She’s a hand-talker, but none of her motions are wild or flailing: she’s precise. If she’s talking about a sequence or an order of things, her hand does a dicing-vegetables motion. If she’s talking geography or anything spatial, she’ll drape her hands over imaginary items, moving them from place to place. If she’s not doing that, she’s plucking things from the air, spreading her palms over the expanse of something, or chopping both hands at the sky in unison. When she overhears strangers talking and realizes she can help them out (with directions, facts, or general knowledge), she’ll literally tiptoe over to them, put her wrists down to her hips with her hands spread parallel to the floor, and she'll tilt her body the one side as if she’s peeking out from behind a curtain. It’s her delicate approach where she physicalizes her awareness that she’s been eavesdropping, and she’s sorry to interrupt but I have knowledge to share! When she dances,

In Saint John, our plan is to follow the river walk and reach the Reversing Falls. This is an area where the Saint John river meets the Bay of Fundy. As a result of the difference in elevation (up to 50 feet depending on the level of the tide), the resulting effect can include whirlpools and crashing waves. The name given for this phenomenon is the Tidal Bore. It’s a hike and a half to get there, which is okay because I’ve got more than my share of meals to walk off. Once upon a when, the walk was just industrial wasteland, but there’s now a well-maintained brick path with various playgrounds, art installations, and informational signage along the way. While we take in relatively little of the informational tidbits along the route, we catch a shit ton of Pokemon, so at least there’s that. After about forty minutes of walking, we make it to the Reversing Falls. We get there relatively early in the day, so the water isn’t doing crazy things, but spectator-wise, the area is also fairl

One of the downsides to travelling on cruise ships frequently is that you’re likely to dismiss an entire city based on your very limited window of experience. If a city isn’t screamingly unique right off the bat, or if the last city was amazeballs and this city is noticeably-less-amazeballs, it’s easy to check out mentally. In my head, I briefly wrote off Portland. Probably because we started with a long walk through all the rubby-dub sections of town -- areas where heavy construction had been started but them seemingly abandoned. Sarah needed to find a TD Bank and then she wanted to visit a Trader Joes, and this dictated the path we took. I remember checking the time on my phone thinking we still have seven hours to spend in this damn port! But then we took a Lyft back to our ship, dropped off the 15 pumpkin-spiced somethings we bought at Trader Joes, and effectively rebooted our visit to Portland from there. Sarah arranged a foodie tour for us. There were I think 12 of us o

We’re in Bar Harbor, Maine, which is a brand new state for both of us. Disembarking goes smoothly, and we’re off and wandering the town soon enough. It’s just after eight so there’s not much open, but we stroll around, getting a lay of the land and hitting various Pokestops (because we are sad adults who make Pokemon Go a priority whenever we’re in a new place.) Eventually we stop for coffee at a place called The Independent, which happens to serve the hottest Americano that the world has thusfar managed to create. I can barely carry it to our table, and I tell Sarah, “I’m gonna drink this… tomorrow.” We soak up free wifi and I manage to get the coffee inside of me, and then we head over to church because it’s Sunday. I’m hoping for a super baa-haa-baa-ry accented priest, but this one just sounds exactly like Ray Romano (who is not from Maine, so far as I know, but I’m entertained none the less.) After mass, we walk over to the water – to where the bar of Bar Harbour will later

Our first day at sea. We sleep in a little then try the Windjammer for breakfast and it’s a horrible mistake: just rammed. We console ourselves with nice coffees at the Diamond lounge. A little later in the day, the climbing wall opens. I go up twice and it is hard. The wall slants steadily outward and there’s fewer firm handholds than the last ship. But I make it to the top both times so hurray for me. The Flowrider is open again, but this time it’s surfing. There’s an older Australian couple on the trip (either in their late fifties or very early sixties) and they’re just crushing it while surfing. They take turns doing about eight runs a piece, looking like absolute heroes, then they notice me and apologize for hogging the ride, but I tell them not to worry because I’m totally divided about trying it. I watch for probably 20 more minutes before working up the courage to try. I know I’ll suck and my goal going in is to last four seconds by cruise end. I get to maybe three and a h