hilly formal dining motions to moon for new year portrait
In last week’s special cruising edition of The Weekly Letter, we had left Mazatlán and were on our way to Cabo. Our ship, the Crown Princess, only slightly smaller than the Empire State Building, gracefully left a cramped port into the Sea of Cortez. We had a wonderful time in Mazatlán and were looking forward to seeing Cabo. We were also enjoying the events and activities on the ship. One of the activities was ..
“…. formal night!” Nazy exclaimed. “We need to dress for dinner.”
“I always dress for dinner,” I replied. “Especially always when we’re going to a restaurant.”
“Dress up!”
“ Up?”
“Dress up. Don’t mess up.”
Nazy’s reminder brought back memories of our last formal dinner in a moving object. It was in South Africa. One of the highlights was Victorian-era dining car on a steam-powered train. (See left.) This time, instead of watching The Karoo through a train window, we watched the Pacific Ocean through a picture window.
Although the cruise was ‘all inclusive’, the cruise line presented several opportunities to exclu$ively spend money: $ubstantial space was devoted to the casino. More surprising was the acreage allocated to the Art Gallery/Showroom. In addition, there were a few interesting on-board art auctions. In one, somebody bought what I thought was a ‘kind of nice acrylic” for $60,000.
Nazy and I eschewed both casino and art. But…
“Natascha,” Nazy explained, “is an excellent photographer from Ukraine. She’ll take our photos for free.”
“I know that she will take them for free, Nazy, but how much will it cost if we take them?”
“There is no sitting fee,” Natasha interjected. “And your wife is so beautiful. No?”
We ended up sitting (for free) not only with Natascha, but also with Julie (from Prague), Manuel (from Manila), Oskar (from Budapest) and…
“How can you be on a first name basis with all of these people?” I asked Nazy.
“I smile,” Nazy replied. “And you talk to them,” I thought. Most of the sittings featured a few standard poses. One, however, ‘the Platinum Offer’, revolved around …
“… your story,” Julie explained. “I want these photos to tell your story. So right now,” she said — pointing to me, “you need to be quiet while I talk with your wife.” Then, turning to Nazy: “What immediately attracted you to him?”
“That’s easy,” I thought. “His intellect, his humor, is raw animal magnetism.”
“I wasn’t attracted to him at all,” Nazy replied. “I didn’t want to date anyone from Georgia Tech.”
I gasped. Julie asked: “But you changed your mind. Why?”
“Because she was wrong.” I interjected.
“Is she often wrong?” Julie asked.
“Never since then,” I replied escaping the trap. “She liked me because I had a cool car — a yellow Austin Healy.”
“We dated in spite of that car.” Nazy corrected. “It had to be pushed to start.”
“But you never had to push my car because I always parked pointing downhill.” I replied. “if I’d met Nazy in Houston or Holland, where there are no hills, we may never have gotten together. Atlanta saved the courtship,” I thought.
The photo session lasted a long time and, although the discussion was purportedly about ‘our story’, we learned about Julie — who was sea-sickness susceptible, unable to find a guy, missing the Czech Republic, contemptuous about western capitalism (except when it came to selling her photos) and possessive of an anti-social gene (or two). But she was a good photographer.
Our last stop was in Cabo, at the very tip of the Baja Peninsula. At arrival the ship was situated off-shore; we took a tender (small boat) to shore. The harbor was filled with impressive yachts — one had a helicopter, something that our giant cruise ship lacked.
We had a short shore stop at Cabo, so we decided to shun the official excursions (‘sailing’ on a motor-powered ‘pirate ship’, horseback riding along a beach, snorkeling) in favor of self-exploration. The city seemed to be ideal for the shopping champion:
As we walked along the promenade, countless vendors accosted us with offers. I advised Naz to..
“Ignore them. Don’t talk to them.”
“I’m just being polite, Dan.” Nazy replied.
“But because you are polite, they are following us and brandishing brochures in our faces.”
After a (very) long walk, we arrived at the beach. Mumblingly, I suggested that Nazy negotiate a water taxi back to town. In a few minutes, a small boat arrived; Nazy had arranged not only a trip back, but a neat tour of the area. We saw the famous arch at Cabo where the Sea of Cortez meets the Pacific Ocean.
The voyage back to Los Angeles was a little bumpy. We enjoyed another formal dinner and attended an interesting talk by a ship’s officer. We learned that it costs $250,000/day for fuel and takes about 1 mile to bring the boat to a full stop from cruising speed. And, interestingly the ship’s ’wheel’ is about the size of a dessert plate; the joystick controlling the engines is the same size as a pencil.
When we arrived at LA, we learned that getting 3500 passengers off of a ship and through US immigration is no small feat. The government responded to the challenge by assigning a full complement of 4 agents to handle the crowd. This made me reassess my assessment of JFK as the worst place to enter the USA.
Back at home, we were looking forward to reuniting with Tiger, the Grand(est)son. While we were away, he went to Miami with his Mom and Dad. I asked him about the airplane trip.
“Went in sky.” Tiger said.
“Did you go to the moon?” I asked.
“No. Cow jumped over the moon.”
“And the dish ran away with the spoon,” I replied - to Tiger’s giggles.
I also took him on a walk to The Mission; he loves the roses.
Finally, Persian New Year, arriving simultaneously with the vernal equinox, began at exactly 9:30 PM (Pacific Time) on Saturday Night. Nazy and I, desiring good luck for the year, followed all traditions.
“We need to leave the house by the back door and from the front door.. “ Nazy began.
“Let’s make sure that we have the keys for both doors,” I replied. (During one celebration in The Hague, we found ourselves locked out of the house when we forgot the keys; we had to hoist Darius into a 2nd floor window.)
“… and, we need to wear some new clothes when we do that,” Nazy continued. “But we wore all the new clothes on the cruise.”
The only solution? A quick trip to the Saks Outlet store on State Street. More about the New Year celebration (including the non-standard celebratory table featuring a Siamese connection) in next week’s letter.
For last week's letter, please click here
Another photo of Nazy in Cabo