December 23, 2018
It is late morning. Sheila and I are sitting on the fantail of the MV Carnival Freedom nine decks above the waterline. We are just about in the middle of the Caribbean making over 15 knots heading southeast. I smiled inwardly and a little smugly when, a few minutes after I typed the last sentence, a ship’s officer came on the public address system and confirmed my seat of the pants position estimate. I later learned that my phone’s GPS works fine even without internet and that I was able to pinpoint our position with it so long as I stayed above decks where the phone could “see” the “bird.” (satellite) Tonight we will make the Yucatan Straights, with Cuba passing to port and the Yucatan Peninsula passing to starboard.
The sea is running a barely perceptible chop, just enough to pleasantly rock the ship. The giant screws are churning up a frothy white wake that extends a mile or more aft. The temperature is in the mid 70‘s and there is a gentle breeze off the starboard bow. We have set up shop in a quiet corner of the adults only pool area all the way aft. We are surrounded by bikini clad beauties, tanned middle aged couples and geezers like ourselves. It is a good place to read, drink coffee and watch the passing parade.
Earlier this morning I watched another Vet older than me and his still lovely though probably in her 80‘s Japanese wife. He was eating a fairly hearty breakfast for a man his age while his wife just sipped a cup of tea. I had noticed them before. She uses a walker. He looked a little confused by it all. Before they ate, they bowed and prayed over their meal. Given the hustle and bustle of the Lido deck crowd around them, it was a particularly poignant scene. I did not have the heart to take a picture of them. It would have somehow spoiled the moment. Later at lunch, I noticed that a young Filipina crew member had adopted them and was carrying their food and taking care of them.
It has been a long road getting to this point. Sheila and I have planned this trip for months and packed carefully for weeks. Friday morning, we left Tulsa timing our departure to arrive in the Houston Metro after the rush hour. Traffic was still bumper to bumper for almost a hundred miles. But, almost exactly twelve hours after we departed, we were checking into our hotel in Galveston to spend the night before boarding ship at noon on Saturday.
We were shepherded though our embarkation by a gentle giant named Joseph, a shore employee of the cruise line. We had asked in advance for handicapped embarkation procedures. When Sheila reported our arrival at the embarkation station, he came out to the curb with a wheelchair, fast-tracked us through the embarkation process and left us in the guest services lounge on board. I tipped him twenty dollars even though we had prepaid our gratuities when we booked passage. We were greeted in the lounge by a lovely young Filipina named Christaline with a second wheelchair. She whisked me to our cabin where my powered mobility scooter was waiting. She was an absolutely charming young lady. She refused a tip even though she had earned it.
Only one incident marred our embarkation. We were lined up waiting for an elevator with a Desert Storm age vet and his wife. We were being given priority service. Though standing, he was obviously in pain. I know that feeling from personal experience. A very arrogant East Indian man and his whole family showed up. They had an older man in a walker with them. Joseph and another staff member both told them that these two couples were next in line for the elevator. As soon as we boarded the elevator, the Indian man pushed in front of the walking but obviously handicapped vet and drug his whole family in after him leaving the disabled vet standing there in the hall furious …… along with everyone else around them. You hear about the complete lack of regard for western manners by some cultures but it is still hard to take when you face it so blatantly displayed.By 2:00 PM Sheila and I were on the Lido deck enjoying the buffet lunch. I had been ill for days. It was the first time I had had an appetite in a week. I had a small serving of prime rib, a small serving of cod provencal, a green salad and potato salad followed by a piece of German chocolate cake and a cup of decaf. The food was particularly good because I finally felt like eating again.
We drew a late dinner slot, 8:15. We were assigned to the Posh Restaurant (lower) dining room. You can’t just go to it. In order to get there you have to go up a couple decks midships, go all the way aft and then come back down a couple of decks aft of the galley. But, when we finally got there, I have to admit it was indeed posh.
The menu had the usual combination of beef, chicken and fish choices. Sheila and I both had the Mahi-Mahi in a hot pepper and papaya sauce. It was good. My appetizer was adequate but nothing to write home about. I had the fried calamari with herb aioli. Sheila had the strawberry bisque which she thoroughly enjoyed. We both had the strawberry sponge for desert and it was probably the highlight of the meal.
Our dinner companions were interesting. The couple to our left were middle aged. They are Bulgarians who now reside in Texas. They are both Naval Architects who live in the Brownsville area. They were casually but well dressed in European fashion. The couple to our right are middle aged newlyweds on their honeymoon. He is a scientist with a government agency he couldn’t talk about. She is an officer with FEMA. They live in the Ft. Worth area. The conversation to the left was polite and a bit European. The conversation to the right was friendly if guarded in a few areas. By the time the meal was over, I was ready for bed. A bit of a sea was running. The stabilizers were handling the rolls well enough but every few swells the bow would come out of the water and crash down sounding like a thunderclap and shaking the whole ship. Sometime before midnight, the captain reduced speed and changed to a more comfortable course. Sheila and I both slept like babies. It was the best sleep I had enjoyed in a week or more.
December 24, 2018
Yesterday was a quiet day at sea. Room Service delivered coffee and juice to our cabin around 7:00 AM and Sheila and I sipped on it while we lazily went about getting ready for the day.
9:00 AM found us on the lido deck considering the hundreds of food options on the various buffet lines. I wound up with an egg white veggie omelet and Sheila had eggs benedict made with smoked salmon. It was quite good for buffet line food but the servings were a tad small. So, Sheila and I both raided the Mexican breakfast line next and had a small breakfast tostada each.
Last night was a “dressy” dinner evening but the word “dressy” takes a bit of interpretation on a Carnival ship. On other lines that would mean formal dinner dress is preferred and if not at least a dark suit and tie. On Carnival it means men wear a jacket and ladies wear mostly cocktail dresses. I wore a dark blazer and slacks with a dress shirt. Sheila wore a black dress, pearls and dressy sandals.Our dinner partners had changed a bit. We had a smaller table. One of the American couples from the previous night was gone replaced by an interesting Argentine couple who now reside in Texas. She is a talkative and friendly stem cell research scientist with the University of Texas. He is a Colombian from Bogota originally, now a retired oil man who now manages a specialty wood working business as his retirement hobby-job. He was very pleasant but quiet.
Our middle aged newlyweds were back as were our Bulgarian shipbuilding couple. Our Bulgarian dinner partners were a bit more talkative this evening. They are both Naval Architects, educated under the old Soviet system in Bulgaria. 24 years of formal education. Their names are Garetch and Dannka. Garetch is a well dressed, middle aged man with close cropped dark hair. Dannka is dark, petite and very stylish with a European look. She designs plumbing systems for the ships he designs.
Garetch is very international but like most successful people who escaped the old Soviet system he has nothing good to say about it. Socialism is a disease, a cancer that destroys entire cultures by robbing people of both their individual freedoms and the dignity of having a chance to succeed or fail in life. Visiting with people like Garetch and Dannka clearly illustrates how cruel and wasteful the socialist system truly is.
It was a good dinner. I won’t bore you with the menu. The conversation was the highlight. After dinner, Sheila and I tried to sit through a 60’s themed Vegas style stage show but soon walked out. It was very hokey, a lot like something you would see on a bad night on the Disney Channel. We were in bed by 11:00 and asleep within moments.
After a good night’s sleep, we woke as the ship was approaching Cozumel. The land swell was rocking the ship gently from side, a pronounced but gentle roll. Room service delivered coffee and juice at 7:00 AM. We sipped it as we worked through our morning routine. The passengers who are going ashore will debark in a few minutes leaving the ship mostly empty. When that happens, Sheila and I will head for the food buffets and then the pool areas which will probably be virtually deserted. We should have the ship and all of its facilities pretty well to ourselves all day today. It should be a good day.
December 25, 2018
Christmas morning. Sheila and I were awakened by a bright morning sun coming through our cabin window. The ship is gently rolling as we make our approach to Roatan, Honduras. We are sipping our morning ritual room service coffee.
I took a moment to reflect on how far I had come from the small simple Christmases of my youth where an inexpensive gift or two, a better than usual meal and a day off from the grinding routine of our lives was something to savor. I remember the smell of frying ham, a great luxury we had only a couple of times per year. A ham was the standard Christmas gift to factory workers. We would eat on it for days and then make soup from the bone. I remember the smell of strong coffee being boiled on the stove top in an old fashioned percolator with the works removed. I remember fresh eggs from our chickens with yolks so dark yellow they were almost brown. And of course my mother’s home made biscuits. I remember the pale yellow butter that was incredibly rich even though it was almost white. We churned it from the thick cream skimmed from the milk bucket. It’s been a long road from there to here and it hasn’t been an easy one. I’m just glad that Sheila and I are getting to enjoy a few of the good things my mom and dad were denied.
It’s 3:00 in the afternoon now. We have taken up residence for the afternoon in the adults only area recreation deck all of the way aft. Sheila is in the pool. I am sitting in the shade watching her and blogging.
Around mid-morning we left the ship and poked through the shops in the dock area. Mahogany Bay, Roatan, Honduras is an island that is more or less owned and operated by the cruise lines, particularly Carnival. Today we are sharing the pier and the resort with a huge Princess liner docked next to us. Mahogany Bay is touristy, expensive and far too clean and cute to represent anything remotely connected to the real Central America. But, having said that, without the smiling and polite security guards in white that were everywhere and the very tough looking indeed armed guards in khaki quietly stationed at every entry and exit point to the outside, neither Sheila nor I would have been there. The real Honduras has the highest homicide rate in the world, kidnapping is a cottage industry and like everything south of the Rio Grande you never know who can be trusted, especially the police and military. It’s no place for two aging Gringos.
December 26, 2018
It is late morning. We are anchored out in huge protected bay 15 miles or so from Belize City. I can see why the British held on to this tiny patch of Central America. The protected anchorage would accommodate several naval fleets with no problem. Today, there are only a few cruise ships dotting the waters around us.
We will not go ashore in Belize. I am still not walking well at all and boarding the water taxi for the half hour ride into town with a handicap scooter would be taxing at best if not dangerous. So, along with many other older cruisers like ourselves, we will have another quiet day to enjoy the ship without the crowd. Staying aboard is actually quite nice. The decks are empty, the pools are empty and the facilities are empty. You literally have the run of the ship.
Staying on the ship lets you get to know the ship and the crew in a way not possible when the crowd is aboard. They are quite an international crowd. I met a lovely young woman from Bali yesterday. She had the most dazzling smile I have ever seen. She is a service worker, spending most of her time cleaning the salt spray and human touches from the bright work, glass and wood trim of the ship. We asked her how she celebrated Christmas. She explained that she is not Christian but that her people have a similar celebration that coincides. She wistfully offered that she did get to talk to her son back in Bali that morning and that she enjoyed that greatly. She now waves and smiles every time she sees us. It is nice.
The security people are Serbians. We have developed a nodding and smiling acquaintance with Marko, the handsome, smiling but tough indeed under the surface young man who patrols the deck areas we frequent. He strikes me as being a good kid. I was impressed today when he stepped in to help a tiny Asian crew members who was polishing and cleaning the giant hot tub aft by the fantail. Without being asked, he picked up a polishing rag and took care of the places the short guy couldn’t reach and then generally gave him a hand. Security people on a ship, any ship, don’t have to do things like that. It spoke well of him. Having said that, I suppose Marko has a lot to be happy about. He is about 21 years old and is getting paid to live on a luxurious floating hotel sailing between sunny vacation spots surrounded by bikini clad females of all ages many of whom find him attractive if their looks following him are any indication. Most healthy 21 year old European males would pay the cruise line for a gig like that.
The actual sailors, the officers and ratings, are mostly Italian and Serbian. While registered in Panama this is an Italian ship. Many of the senior officers have their families on board with them for the holidays. It is kind of sweet to see the Captain’s ten year old son following him around as he makes his inspection tours. I noticed another of the senior officers giving his wife and two children a tour of the ship on Christmas day. The rest of the crew members are compensated for their separation from their families in other ways. They work ten months per year and are given two months per year leave to go home. And in a twist on that, the shore based workers are given two free cruises per year on a space available basis.
The crew of the Freedom seem to be a happy bunch over all. They are warm, friendly and accommodating for the most part, especially willing to help we older folks with mobility issues. I have had a lot of experience with forced friendliness and professional charm. These kids, and they are mostly kids, seem to be enjoying the great adventure of their lives and seem to be genuinely happy doing what they are doing. Coming from an America where everybody complains constantly about doing anything resembling work their attitude is truly refreshing.
This is the last port of call. When we weigh anchor tonight we will begin the three night and two day run back to Galveston. It has passed quickly. But, we are rested, tanned and quietly enjoying the time together. We are getting our money’s worth and then some.
December 27, 2018
Looking out over it, I have the same feelings and thoughts I had over forty years ago when I first went to sea. God’s majesty is truly on display here, His power openly visible for all to see. It is obvious that no matter what man made structure or device you artificially place upon His waters, great or small, out here it will always be at the mercy of His will. It certainly puts your humanity and all of its devices in perspective. There is a line from an old poem that says, “Let him who wants to learn to pray go to sea.” There is great wisdom in that line. We often forget that our most beloved hymn, Amazing Grace, was the result of a sailor’s encounter with God in a storm at sea.
Forty years ago, I went to sea in small, obsolete, worn out ships that were built for everything but comfort. Some were WWII veterans. Even a mild sea would make them bob around like fisherman’s cork in a thunderstorm. Today, our giant of a liner is taking the sea with an easy, barely perceptible roll. The captain has reduced speed for our comfort and the huge tanks of liquid ballast a dozen decks below are compensating for the wave motion nicely.
When I sailed these same waters so long ago, I would watch the great liners glide by gracefully, smiling people on the deck sunbathing, playing shuffleboard and generally enjoying the good life while were bouncing around unmercifully and not enjoying much of anything at all but the thought that at least we were in the Caribbean where the seas don’t get truly nasty (like the North Atlantic) and the next port is always just a day or two away.
Forty years ago, my breakfast would have been nutritious and filling. Scrambled powdered eggs, bacon, sausage or ham, fresh bread or biscuits, reconstituted orange juice and the heavy duty black coffee the Navy is famous for. There would have been some kind of potatoes and many mornings the traditional baked beans. It would have been served on a compartmentalized sheet metal tray. The mess decks tables would have been wiped frequently with a damp rag so the trays and coffee cups wouldn’t slide off. You walked through the mess line, swaying with the ship and the mess cook on the serving line kind of dumped your food on your tray as you nodded or spoke your choices.
This morning, Sheila had a medium rare filet mignon, fried eggs over easy with bernaise sauce and double cheese grits. I had an egg white omelet made with fresh vegetables, freshly ground chicken sausage and grits. It was served on China with stemware and silver. And, it was all immaculately served by a full wait staff with immaculate jackets and stiffly starched napkins properly draped over their arms. But, strangely enough, the restaurant we ate in, the best on the ship, was situated exactly where the mess decks were on the old tub I spend the most time on so long ago, directly above the screws all the way aft. That is about the only thing the two meals had in common.
This is the next to last day of the cruise and probably our last warm day at sea. We will sail through the night back toward the United States. Tomorrow’s weather will probably be pleasant but nippy. There is a sense of winding down now. We have rested and enjoyed ourselves. I will soon be ready to return to life at home as I know I must. Hopefully, I will be better prepared to face whatever comes next.
This has not been a normal Christmas but I am truly grateful that the Lord has allowed me to return to these waters that I learned to simultaneously love and hate so long ago and to taste for a few days the good life that I once watched so longingly from afar. God is good and He is just.
December 28, 2018
It is late morning. Sheila and I have had our room service coffee, a delicious breakfast at the Posh Restaurant. Sheila had filet mignon and eggs again. I had the fabulously done Huevos Rancheros. High brunch in that restaurant may be the best meal served on the boat.
As we sat on the fantail after breakfast looking out over the sea, a feeling of profound gratitude came over me. Going to sea as a young man cost me a quarter inch of my left leg and a lifetime of pain and reduced mobility. Going to sea cost me the first three years of my only child’s life. When I finally came home for good, I was a stranger to her. It had to be done and I did it voluntarily but I paid a price.
My memories of the sea have always been mixed. Before Sheila and I started cruising, my last experience at sea, a very tough one, colored my memories. A nightmare of a North Atlantic crossing on a ship that belonged up a jungle river someplace not on the high seas. Terrible storms in the Mediterranean and Aegean that nearly capsized us daily. And, after the old tub finally did roll too far, my morphine hazed journey half way around the world through several hospitals and then home… with a limp.
These cruises have let me find closure. I have recovered the love and respect I once had for the sea and put to rest the demons that haunted me for decades after my injury. I have learned to enjoy the motion of the ship again not fear it. I have recovered the joy of scanning the endless horizons, taking quiet comfort from the vastness of it all. I have recovered the sense of purpose that comes from having a destination and enjoying the majesty of God’s creation on view for all to see as you move toward it.
Tomorrow morning, we will debark, pick up our car and drive home. By God’s grace, twelve hours or so later we will be back in our little cottage in Tulsa, Oklahoma, USA, rested, relaxed and ready to resume our normal life.
Postscript One – The Journey Home
We pulled out of the parking lot in Galveston at 10:02 AM Saturday morning. At 7:55 PM that evening we pulled into our driveway in Tulsa. 550 miles in a little under 10 hours. It was a swift, uneventful trip interrupted only by food, fuel and rest stops.
Our neighbor who had been watching the house for us greeted us almost immediately with an armful of mail and small packages that had been delivered while we were gone. By 10:00 PM we were settled in to our own bed and back to our normal lives.
Postscript Two – Pain
I suffer from limited mobility and chronic pain issues in my knees and hips. My injury at sea so long ago caused me to walk with a limp which in turn caused alignment problems and eventually arthritis. The Monday before we left on this cruise, I had Synvisc injections into both knees. Synvisc is a thick liquid made from chicken combs which acts as an artificial lubricant and replacement cartilage in worn out knees. I have had this treatment before. I usually walk much better for several weeks or even a few months.
This time, things did no go so well. By 10:00 PM Monday evening, I was in excruciating pain in my left knee. There was no body position where it did not hurt terribly. When I went to bed, I whimpered like a kicked puppy every time I moved. That is unusual for me. The pain would wash over me in waves and I would tremble as though I was having a seizure.
I am usually pretty stoic about pain. I’ve lived with it all of my life. I began taking hydrocodone left over from pre-opioid ban days every four hours. It took just enough of the edge off for me to fitfully sleep fifteen or twenty minutes at a time.
I could not stand to walk to the bathroom. I kept a urinal by the bed at night and by my chair in daytime. For three days, I only got up to go from my chair to my bed by way of the bathroom and back. Sheila left water and coffee by the chair for me before she left for work and I would still be in the chair when she got home.
I kept telling myself that I was just having one of the rare reactions to the injection and that this would go away in a day or two. But it didn’t. It hurt so badly I didn't want to endure a trip to doctor's office to have it checked. By the fourth day, I could walk a few steps painfully with a cane and sleep for four hours with an ice pack on the knee.
I was still in that condition Friday morning when we left for Galveston. The pain in my knee was dull but maddeningly constant as I drove. It wears you out. I relieved it some by using a tens machine and more by wadding up my heavy military fleece jacket and placing it between my knee and the door panel of the car. We stopped about half way down and bought an ice pack. That helped.
Going to the bathroom on the road was a nightmare. I only went twice between Tulsa and Galveston and both times were an experience I never want to repeat. Placing weight on the knee was almost unbearably painful and the knee simply would not hold my weight. I had to put my whole body weight on my cane to move from step to step. This caused a new set of pains in my also damaged right shoulder. I had no appetite and was limiting my fluids to limit trips to the bathroom. I was dehydrated and felt rotten.
That is how I felt when I boarded the ship. I expected the knee to get better even if it was healing slowly. But, it has not done as well as I had hoped. I can sleep now and walk a few steps, if a bit painfully, with a cane. Two weeks ago, I hoped to walk onto the ship under my own power. That did not happen. A few days ago, I hoped to walk off the ship under my own power. That also will not happen. I will leave the ship as I boarded, in a wheelchair pushed by an attendant. That is a great disappointment.
If I have learned anything from a lifetime living with chronic pain it is this: Pain will define your life if you let it. If you are going to have any kind of life at all with it you must work around the pain, do what you can where you can, enjoy what you can when you can and not let the pain rob you of whatever joy that is available. I have tried to do that on this cruise.
Sheila has had to bear much of the burden of my condition, fetching and carrying for me, handling our luggage and generally being my legs. When we marry we promise to abide in sickness and in health. She has kept that promise far more graciously than many women would have.
I am praying desperately that this condition is not permanent. I am far worse than I was before the injections. I simply cannot walk as well as I did two weeks ago. A few steps at best without a cane and a few more with one. But, living with chronic pain all of these years has taught me to take things a day a time, a step at a time and a challenge at a time. And by God’s grace, that is what I am going to do.
Pictures:
Adults only pool area, Deck 9
Our Cabin, No. 6206
View out our cabin window
Christmas Tree in the atrium
The Promenade Deck
The cruise director Emma dancing with children
Emma dancing with a little girl.
Pool on excursion day
Serenity Deck
Giant chess set on game deck
Serenity Deck
Bow recreational area for the crew on the Carnival Triumph the ship we chose for our last cruise.
Best entertainer on the ship, JD Monson. This guy can pull off a country solo act like few performers I have ever seen.
Our dinner partners Anna and Leo. She is stem cell research scientist at the University of Texas. She was born Spanish, immigrated to Argentina and then America. Leo is a retired oilman from Bogota, Colombia who is now an American Citizen. They live in a Houston suburb.
Our dinner partners Wendy and Michael. She is a FEMA executive. He is a scientist with a government agency he prefers not to mention.
Our dinner partners Garretch and Dannka from Brownsville, Texas by way of Bulgaria, Singapore and other places where large ships are built. They are both Naval Architects.
This hall is 952 feet long. It runs the full length of the ship, over 300 yards. Our cabin was all the way at the forward end. Our dining room was all the way aft three decks down.
Shipwrecks left in place for divers Roatan, Honduras.
Sheila sitting by the ship's Christmas tree.
View out our cabin window.
Elevators in the atrium.
