We got to Plumanac’h around lunchtime, found the Schéré’s house and found our way in. It’s a different, larger house than it was last time I was here, probably 15 years ago. We had a little aperitif in the living room and made off to lunch at their favorite seaside restaurant. It was a very yummy lunch. I started with mackerel rillettes, followed with carpaccio St. Jacques, which is scallop sashimi, in a different culture. They were delicious with some of the frites that came with Gil’s burger. Dessert was the best, a crèpe au caramel au beurre salé with ice cream. Purrr.
We got back to the house to find out we were locked out by Constance, the other Schéré daughter, who was off having osteopathy or some such like.
So Gil and Jean went for a swim in the pool, which has its own little house, and Danièle and I went to visit her mother, Elizabeth Cosson, who will be 104 on October 7. I always remember her birthday because it is 3 days before mine. I don’t want to live quite that old, though, as there really isn’t that much left you can do. Elizabeth kept up her Paris apartment, went out every day, etc., into her late nineties, but she doesn’t do much now. She does live in a very nice place called Kergomar in Lannion, that provides total care, and she can look forward to a visit from a family member every day. Robbie will be flattered when he hears she has our Christmas card with its pictures of him on her wall and that I had no trouble finding the loo.
Oysters were obviously in season in Brittany, because they were on the Schéré’s dinner menu, too. Gil volunteered to shuck them but Jean said “non, non” and that he was good at that. Gil, being about the most competitive person I know, insisted that they have a contest. He gave up when Jean had shucked 6 of them before he had one open. Sandy would have loved to have been there.
And we had shrimp, too, and Danièle roasted a chicken, the wine flowed, and we had a local custard cake called a tropezière or something like that, for dessert. I must mention that the Schérés and Gil follow politics, avidly, to say the least, and that their favorite political commentator is an expat from Québec named Mathieu Bock-Côté. I must say, he has good insights into world affairs, but he does repeat himself. Likes the stage he is getting, I suppose. I knew we were exporting French entertainers, like Celine Dion, and the Cirque du Soleil, but political commentators, well, that’s a new one.
Thursday, June 30, 2022
We got up late and futzed around the house, me doing TA work and Danièle doing some of that and everything else, including laundry, for which I was grateful. In the afternoon, we went to visit her mother again and she took me on a bit of a tour, and shopping, of course. We visited a particularly nice cathedral in Lannion, built by the Ordre des Templiers (Knights Templars), filthy rich warrior monks at a time when they were not compelled to celibacy, in the XIIth century. The parish is called Brélévenez whose name has a lovely origin. It is made of of two celtic words “bre” and “levenez “, which mean “Mountain of Joy”. It had lovely vistas and I have pictures of same, but I found the graveyard even more interesting.
Here you have an actual china wreath. It’s beautiful, doesn’t look cheap like all plastic flowers do, is cleaned by the rain, or maybe the groundskeeper’s hose, and doesn’t fade. It just sits there looking elegant. It’s also a testament to the respect the site is afforded by the people of the town. There are a lot of these and they don’t get vandalized. Kudos, gens de Lannion. You know how to bring up your kids.
Friday, July 1, 2022
Jean drove us to the train station. It might have been Lannion, or one a little further that was even more convenient. On the way, I finally remembered to ask him whet Plumanac’h meant and here’s your answer: “Plu” is parish and “manac” is monk. So, it’s the parish of the monks and that explains why one part or the other of it appeared on a lot of road signs. And the town has just changed names, so I’ll be addressing my “thank you” note to “Perros Guirrac”. I forgot to ask what that meant.
The TGV got us to Paris by about four, without event, except that, when I went to get out of my seat, I didn’t take about a seven inch drop into account and fell into the table across the aisle. The seven inch in diameter bruise is still turning all sorts of pretty colors, eleven days later. I’ll spare you a picture of that. Jerome had managed to screw up again, and after waiting for him for almost a half-hour, we gave up and took a cab that was just there. We dropped off our bags at the house and went straight to Printemps on the bus. We sat down for an ice cream before making for the dress floor, because I had decided I needed one, and had just enough space in my carry-on for it, as long as I kept it simple.
Like everywhere else these days, Printemps dress floor is arranged by designer and Gerard Darel came through for me again. I am very happy with it. Danièle and I made an event of diner when we walked to Guilia, a short walk from the apartment, and a great place. The Schérés know Rashid, the owner, of course, and Danièle knew what we wanted to eat. It was a côte de boeuf for two, and it was rare and succulent with both garlic mashed potatoes and frites. Danièle started with a salad and I had terrine de foie de volailles, and we finished up with the dessert of the day a fresh home-made lemon pie. Rashid danced attention on us and recommended our bottle of wine, which was excellent. I love this picture:
Back at the Phoenix Copenhagen, I was up early and off to the airport, while the others were having breakfast. I am pleased to report they had uneventful trips home. After the agony they went through getting to Reykjavik, it was only what they deserved. I had an uneventful trip to Paris, too, only Danièle’s faithful driver, Jerome, wasn’t as faithful as usual and I ended up taking a taxi after ascertaining that he was still 45 minutes from Orly. Danièle, and her daughter Liz were at their apartment in the 17th arrondissement, and we were soon off to lunch, just down the street. They live in Paris like I do in Montreal, with everything you could want close to hand. It was weinerschnitzel at the German place and that was fine with me.
I had some TA work to do in the afternoon, a good bit if it for myself, this time, because the shoemaker wears bad shoes, and my travel between my various destinations wasn’t booked yet. I had invested in a Eurail pass for $US441 and I won’t repeat the list of derogatory adjectives Danièle had for that brilliant move. It just wasn’t worth it. She couldn’t picture me going through all the hours of train travel that would entail from Copenhagen to two destinations in Brittany and on to Porto all in 9 days. She got me an SNCF (French Railway) senior’s card for cheap train rides within France and had me buy cheap airline tickets for Copenhagen to Paris, Paris to Porto, and Porto to Lisbon. Then she went about getting the train tickets I would actually need, Paris to Vannes and Lannion to Paris. Good to have a friend who can be the travel agent’s travel agent. I needed that.
Liz has a friend who has written a book called “Dinner for One” about how cooking and eating got her through her after divorce period in Paris. Her name is Sutanya Dacres, and you can buy it at Amazon. I did. Haven’t read it yet, I have been so busy, but I will get to it in another couple of nights. Anyway, it was a very nice book signing, in a nice Monmartre Bistro, where the wine flowed and the charcuterie were excellent. Daniele and I were, by very far, the oldest people in the place. I like that. We met some nice young people but we left early when Danièle noticed that her wallet was missing from her purse. It was likely at home because we had had in-house financial transactions for her TA services, but she wasn’t sure. That kind of thing can ruin your evening, so we decided to walk back, downhill, to the 17th to check. Sure enough, wallet was at home where he belonged and we could relax. We hadn’t eaten quite enough, so we popped out to the local creperie and had a couple with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and salted caramel sauce. I was in heaven.
Sunday, June 26, 2022
Danièle’s driver, Jerome, showed up early this time and she came with me all the way to the Montparnasse train station and right on to the train. She got past the ticket checker by explaining that I was an old dotty person, from Canada, who spoke no French. It was very sweet of her and I probably did need it, but oh, the ignominy of it all. I must admit I had to ask for help transferring at Rennes. So I asked the best person, a lady with a baby in her arms, a carriage to deal with, and a large soft suitcase. A person like that has to know how to get from A to B the most efficient way. It still involved an elevator up into the station and an escalator down to the track for the train to Vannes.
The French countryside, from the train, is beautiful. Little farms and villages dot the land and fields display their crops. Farmhouses that are too close to the tracks have a row of trees standing guard over their privacy. And so they should, but I’m a voyeur. That is, I am when my nose isn’t down writing away, like I was on that trip. All those long train rides I gave up, in the interests of efficient travel, might have got this newsletter out sooner.
Gil wasn’t there at Vannes, when I arrived, which didn’t bother me except that I didn’t have 20 cents to pee. I had 100 Euros but not 20 cents. So, I called him and he was across the street having lunch, having got the time slightly wrong. So, I crossed over and had a pee and lunch, too. It was a very nice Croque Monsieur. We drove to the ferry pier for Ile aux Moines, and Gil dropped me, and the luggage there, while he went and parked the car in his rented garage. This is what you do when you live on an island, you see. The Merciers do without a car in Paris, take the train to Vannes, like I just did, and the ferry to their house on Ile aux Moines. While we were waiting for the ferry, we noticed some nasty weather coming out of the clear blue sky and after seventy years of using the expression” out of the blue”, finally figured out where it came from.
The Merciers now have a motorized tricycle, and that’s how we got to the house with the luggage and all. Sandy and Rudi were waiting for us. I settled in and learned a few things, as you usually do when Gil is around to teach you, and I got this really cute picture of the author of “The Rudi Reports”.
Dinner was unexpected and delicious. It was pork vindaloo, which is explained by the fact that the Merciers spent a lot of years in Indonesia, back in the ‘90s.
Monday, June 27
I got up late and indulged in a nice bath, while Sandy took Rudi to Vannes for dental work. I brought the computer downstairs to do my exercises with Miranda Esmonde-White on my computer. I should have known better. I endured fifteen minutes of him making fun of her gentle stretches and moves, based in ballet. I don’t think laughter mixes all that well with relaxation-based exercises. But when she got to the part where you are to pretend to squeeze a beach ball between your legs, it really went off the rails. We were still howling when Sandy got back, looking like the proverbial drowned rat. The skies had opened between here and the ferry and she was on her bike. An hour later the sun was back out and Sandy was hanging out the laundry when Gil took me on a trike tour of the island.
It’s interesting to see what was built, centuries ago, on what was a remote island and still doesn’t have a bridge. Here’s an example:
And, being the observers of the human comedy that Gil and I are, here’s an example of a modern tourist with exceptionally poor fashion sense:
We were trying to find a restaurant where I could take the Merciers out to dinner the next night but none of them were open and, if they were, they weren’t planning to serve dinner until July, which, alas, is 3 days away. Gil decided he would make faijitas and have a party instead. I continued to protest because I was trying to make less work for these nice people, not more. But, Gil was having none of it and I had to admit, they have a pretty spectacular party venue.
Luckily, Sandy had been smart when she was out and had come back with a very nice quiche for dinner and rhubarb tart for dessert, so it was an easy night. We finished up playing backgammon, the girls against Gil. He didn’t much like it when we won.
Tuesday, June 28, 2022
Party or no party, this was the day Sandy and I planned on going shopping in Vannes, and so we did. When I got in the car, I thought a cheese had fallen out of Gil’s grocery bag from a couple of days ago. But we didn’t see one on the floor of the car, so we just opened the windows and drove on. Sandy introduced me to AmorLux about twenty years ago and I have been buying it ever since. I was ready to stop in at the factory outlet they now have in Vannes. I replaced my well worn Brooks Brothers navy and white striped three-quarter length sleeved T-shirt. Sandy is putting it in the poor box on the island. It can go sailing now.
Then we got to downtown Vannes, which has some very good shopping. I needed a couple of things to wear over the black sausage base of tights and T-shirt. I had forgotten to pack the usual, but Gerard Darel and Burton were happy to fill in for me. When we got back in the car, Sandy discovered the source of the cheesy smell. It was a little bag of dog poo, which was summarily dispatched to a bin. By the time we got home, Gil had actually made the faijitas and was ready to make the short trip to a neighbor who harvests and sells fresh oysters. How good does that get?
Gil shucked the oysters and Sandy got out all the necessary and pretty soon we had a party going. We were lucky with the weather. It was the first day we could have sat out on their fabulous deck and we made the most of it. Gil had invited the neighbors in and we ended up with two couples, Lucie, the 15-year-old grand daughter of one of them, who is going to school in Drummondville this fall, and 90+ year-old Francoise, who was very impressive. She still keeps an apartment in Paris and bikes all over the city, like she bikes around the island here. I didn’t tell her how much of a wuss she made me feel.
Wednesday, June 29, 2022
Gil and Danièle had hatched a plot whereby he would drive me the three hours from Ile aux Moines to Plumanac’h, stay overnight there and return to Sandy, who had a son arriving from Canada the next day. We started out by ferry, as you have to when you leave an island. If I thought I was impressed by Francoise, that doubled when there was a 100-year old lady, spiffily dressed off to do her shopping in town. It’s inspiring.
Our conversation in the car was free-ranging and, as usual, and, also as usual, I learned a lot. Gil is a Renaissance man and he has a lot to share. While we were engaging in more-or-less intelligent conversation, I was taking in the road signs of Brittany. Given our destination was Plumanac’h, I was especially interested in places that began with “plu” or had “manac” in them. There were plenty of each. So, I decided to ask Gil, who knows pretty much everything, what “Plumanac’h” meant. All I knew was that it was a Breton word and that isn’t saying much in these parts. To my astonishment, Gil admitted that he hadn’t a clue what it meant. I figured that, it that case, he would just make something up but he couldn’t, really, because all I would have to do is ask Danièle of better yet, Jean, who had been coming here for more than 50 years. So we left it as a question for him.
I’m so glad COVID confinement is easing up. I was busy enough with 34 people traveling in June, not to want to deal with another COVID test. I worked my butt off seven days a week, until the last group flew to join their ship on June 16. Then I got myself ready and found time to party with friends, Andrea and Jim from Magog, Patrick and Rose from NDG and Denis, who needed to meet some of my buds before he ends up cooking for them at Ginger’s on Ile Bizard, when I get back. Denis is a chef, you see. He has a PhD in Food Science, and taught it for years, while running a few restaurants. He still has one but it’s simple, a Take and Bake” pizza place. So, I call him “Chef Dr. Pizza Guy” Good title for an 80-year old. Way better than most of the alternatives. Speaking of titles:
The invitation to what must be our 11th, maybe 12th annual summer party, started off like this:
“Canada is a safer place, now that Ginger is an Honorary Lieutenant Colonel in the Grenadier Guards, for life, no less. As safe as it gets:
Ya think? I sure do. And I don’t know about Canada but summer wouldn’t be summer without our annual party at Manresa.”
And that party will be happening the first Saturday in August. I have a month off in Europe first. I am flying to Copenhagen to meet Mariann Sheldon, my old Napa neighbor, who’s a Dane and had volunteered to take a privileged few back to see some of her favorite Danish things. When we first booked this trip for 2020, the Norwegian Fjords cruise that preceded it, was a Distinctive Voyage and I was its host. It wasn’t this time and SilverSea at full price, single occupancy, was a little rich for my blood, particularly as I had already sailed the Reykjavik to Copenhagen itinerary.
For the three passengers that started in Sacramento, getting to Reykjavik had not gone well. That’s an understatement. Alaska Airlines delayed their flight out of SMF such that they would miss their connection in SFO bound for Reykjavik. I was all over SilverSky, who had booked it, but they were powerless, and all over SilverSea, for compensation for my poor travelers. For the very first time, my efforts failed. It ended up taking them 60 hours, to get to Reykjavik, when it should have taken less than 12. It has to do with the chaos at the airports, and the number of things that are going wrong with flights all over. The cruise lines are fed up with paying for the airlines’ incompetency and have decided to put their keels down. My explaining that it was SilverSea that had taken the passengers’ money for the flights didn’t make a ripple once that decision had been made. I did what I could and compensated them as best I could. It couldn’t be enough.
I managed to upgrade my Air France flight to Copenhagen at check-in, so for $404 more, I was in Business and enjoying the lounge at YUL after Denis dropped me off. Like every other one, my flight took off a little late but it made most of it up in the air. I took a taxi to Phoenix Copenhagen, where the Danes stay, according to Leona, and was greeted by the friendliest hotel staff, ever. Mads the Bellman was just darling and as cute as they come, and Isabelle answered my countless questions and organized our taxis to the airport for 5 days hence.
Monday, June 20, 2022
I had slept a little on the plane, but not very much. My room at Phoenix Copenhagen was ready and Mads took me there, but all I did was drop my bags, backpack and rolling carry-on, brush my teeth and leave for the RDYC, which I wanted to check out. It turns out the Royal Danish Yacht Club has three facilities and the restaurant is in what is probably the most uninteresting. It’s on the water, of course, and has a few yachts in its harbour, but it’s not the old one with all the history. It’s a modern building in a waterfront development. I had a nice table for one, right at a window overlooking the yachts and the menu was interesting. It was a typical Danish lunch. Look at my lovely tartare, mache, and potato chip sandwich. I had mignardises for dessert and they were delicious, too.
I went to the office to introduce myself and see what I could buy and came up with a very interesting tubular scarf, navy with crowns all over it. I can keep it in my raincoat pocket and slip it on whenever the weather feels like it might get at my throat. Brilliant. I liked it so well that I bought another for Mariann.
I used the YC phone to call Oliver at Great Dane, our purveyor of cars and drivers, to make sure all was in order for me to meet the ship tomorrow morning, with a van. My passengers needed this transfer to go smoothly. Then I went home to the Phoenix. I walked out a bit to see if the local Telco shop could figure why I had no phone service in Copenhagen. It couldn’t, so I walked home again, observing the Danish bike culture and was in bed by 6 pm.
Tuesday, June 21, 2022
I slept well, and since I don’t eat breakfast, I was ready when Per showed up with a nice Mercedes Sprinter van in the morning. We found the Silver Moon all right, and picked up our passengers, Mariann, Carol Berg and her sister Cindy Clot, Barbara August and her daughter Lee Simpson. Off we went, back to Phoenix so everyone could check in. The rooms weren’t ready, so mine became the loo, cum luggage storage. That done, Mariann took us on a mini-walking tour around the palace, before we went to Nyhavn to meet our canal boat tour. Mariann, you see, went to the private N. Zahle’s School in Copenhagen with the present Queen of Denmark, Margrethe II, when she was a little princess. She is a much beloved queen and Mariann says she was always a very nice, fun person. She’s 82 now and she still smokes like a fiend. Those are some good genes.
Mariann took us on a little detour to show us the palace grounds and we made our reserved canal boat tour at 10:30 am. The weather, which heretofore had not been anything to write home about, turned very nice for us and we toured the canals of Copenhagen in glorious sunshine.
Mariann’s friend, Kirsten, met us for a typical Danish lunch, right near the dock in Nyhavn, at Nyhavns Færgekro. Most of us had the open-faced sandwiches. Mine was gravlax. We didn’t do herring and schnaaps, likely more’s the pity, but our digestive systems ain’t what they used to be. Sorry to disappoint. We had some free time after that and it was just as well, as Mariann and I had plenty to do. We all met up again around six o’clock and asked the bell desk for a taxi or taxis to the famous Tivoli Gardens. He found one for six, but he probably shouldn’t have. Barb and Lee were most uncomfortable in the back row and it cost within about a buck of the price for both of the taxis we took home.
Tivoli was fun. We didn’t go on any of the rides, but we walked around a bit and had dinner from assorted kiosks in the food hall. Since we have a couple of vegetarians, three omnivores, and a vegophobe, that worked well. I had a lobster roll and it was pretty good, washed down with a nice white wine.
Wednesday, June 22, 2022
We were all down in the lobby on time and our guide, Uffe Folkmann, arrived in a couple of minutes, with a decent sized van, for our excursion into the countryside. We later learned that Uffe was the CEO of the company and had picked our tour for himself because Mariann wanted us out in the countryside and that would be a minivacation, read busman’s holiday, for him. After two years of you-know-what, the tour and travel business has exploded and this is the beginning of high season in Denmark. His phone hardly ever stopped ringing but that didn’t stop him from being excellent at the job. We kind of toured Copenhagen on the way out, him telling Danish Royalty stories the whole time. I liked the one about the queen who had four lazy sons, so she turned them into bulls to pull her carriage:
He was also really good, with the juicy stories of fornicating royals of all ages and stages, but always named either Frederick or Christian. Denmark was an absolute monarchy from 1660 to 1849, when the king and queen stepped down. It was her idea, of course. Better to step down and remain titular heads, that spark a revolution and be deposed. By noon, we were in Nyborg, where I broke my fast early for a Danish pastry, in a Danish bakery, with a cup of very delicious hot chocolate. Then we moved on to Egeskov Slot. Slot means castle in Danish and this tour is all about slots.
Like everything else in this world, Egeskov has evolved and lunch was a pretty disappointing affair, read hot dogs, hamburgers and French fries. I was a vegetarian for that. The castle was nice, though. It still has it’s very politically incorrect trophy room
and a nice toy exhibit.
I enjoyed it. It’s on the island of Fyn, where we would stay a couple of nights.
The best slot of all was the one we stayed in. Our rooms were very large and well appointed with antiques, which was as it should be. The housekeeping left a bit to be desired in Carol and Cindy’s, which probably hadn’t been used in a couple of years, and they had to dispose of a good few cobwebs. The grounds were lovely
and dinner was delicious. I had tomato soup, cockerel, and a white chocolate panna cotta with fresh local strawberries for dessert. Mariann and Uffe and I had the wine pairing with it and it was excellent.
Thursday, June 23, 2022
My intermittent fasting caused me to miss a yummy pancake breakfast, I was told. But I used the time to keep up with my exercise program, which is no longer optional, as I age less than gracefully. The grounds are beautiful here. Compare this photo with the first one here. They remind me of Ginger’s,
We got on the road around 9:30 am, bound for Jutland and Koningshus, which Mariann particularly wanted us to see. It’s beautiful countryside, not unlike that around Montreal, which isn’t a stretch as we are pretty much at the same latitude.
There was trouble on the highway, in the direction coming towards us. We hoped it would be cleared by the time we were coming back, as Carol and Cindy had a train to catch, and we had a specific time at our next stop. As we approached Jutland, Uffe started coming out with Jutland people jokes, which are the same as Canada’s Newfie jokes and America’s Polish jokes. I understand that the Danes make fun of the Swedes, too.
Koldinghus was fabulous and I would put it on anyone’s list who can find the time. I have seen a lot of ruins in my travels, and lately governments are making attractions of them, but I have never seen one done like this. When a castle catches fire, and most of them do, being under siege regularly and all, the wooden interiors burn, but the stone walls hold. So, you can just tour the walls and read the story, or you can do something like this with it:
The current exhibition commemorates HRH Crown Princess Mary’s 50th birthday. It paints a portrait of the Danish Crown Princess and her four predecessors in the Glücksborg dynasty. It was very nice. They did lunch really well, too. It was a real Danish smorgasbord with herring, eel, chicken, frikadelles, lots of cheeses, desserts, the works. We just loved it. Then we had to deal with the traffic jam, which had definitely not cleared. Google knows where the traffic is, and it was everywhere. It was one of those accidents where the 18 wheel semi-trailer jackknifes and blocks the entire highway. In this case, it was the new (1970) bridge. Those are not easy to clear away. This one had been three hours and counting. Uffe called ahead to H.C. Andersen Hus to say we wouldn’t make our appointment but would get there as soon as we could. They were very nice about it. We weren’t the only call on the subject.
We got there with enough time for Carol and Cindy to see a bit before their train. The architecture is stunning but Hans Christian Andersen is doubtless rolling in his grave, chewing tacks and spitting nails. Uffe’s wife Joan took the train down from Copenhagen to have a very tiny holiday and replace Carol and Cindy in the van back to the city. She is delightful, and gorgeous, to boot. We were happy to have her along. She summed H.C. Andersen Hus best when she said “There is no spirit of Hans Christian Andersen here”. The fairy tales have been distorted almost beyond recognition for the sake of clever display. Methinks it’s a failure. Don’t waste your time.
This was Skt Hans day, the longest day of the year and first day of a week of celebrations. There were thus a lot of people on the Island of Fyn for the holiday. Barb, Lee, Mariann and I, Joan and Uffe ate at the coast in a seafood restaurant they had chosen, Hvide Pakhus, in Faborg. I had a gravlax appetizer followed by moules frites and the dessert of the day, which was very good but I have forgotten what it was.
Then we walked around the restaurant to a parking lot by the water to see the local bonfire. There are bonfires all over Denmark this night. They used to burn witches but this one was just an effigy. We were all back in bed at the castle, except Uffe and Joan, when a group of partying guests set up a bonfire in the courtyard, pictured above. I heard the noise but was too lazy to get dressed again and go out.
Friday, June 24, 2022
I missed another wonderful breakfast but I am keeping my body going, so all’s well and off we went, back to Copenhagen. This is Uffe and Mariann, loading up the van, in front of Hvedholm Slot
and this is Uffe and Joan, saying goodbye at the door of the Phoenix Copenhagen.
I shall remember them fondly and use Great Dane, whenever I need a tour supplier in Denmark. We were there by noon, time for the Sacramento people to check in for their SAS flight to SFO. Barb and Lee had no trouble, but SAS had jerked Mariann’s seat out from under her for the third time. My favorite thing to do is to hang on hold, standing up at the front desk of a hotel, the only place in Denmark where the call was free for me. SilverSky said they couldn’t help me because SAS now owned the reservation but while I was on hold for SAS, Mariann tried again and managed to check in. So, either SilverSky did something or SAS did what it was going to do all along. The seat Mariann got was a business class seat, but it wasn’t the one she had purchased. That was 2A, beside Barb and Lee’s 2D&E. I had watched that one disappear months ago and replaced it with 8A. The A seats have both an aisle and a window on the plane in question and so are very desirable. 8A held until a week before flight time, which was the last time I checked it, before we tried to check in. So Mariann flew in 9D, still an aisle, but in the middle section. You have to wonder why the airlines think they can just jerk their paying customers around like that and you have to believe it is to suck up to their very frequent flyers, no matter how late they book. It’s pretty disgusting.
Mariann went back to her room to finish packing and I went out to get some plastic folders. I have been wondering for almost 30 years, now, why the rest of the world files in see-through plastic and North America hasn’t given up the manila folder. I recycle them every year at tax time, but I keep needing more. What other 77-year old do you know with a growing business? I must be nuts. It was only Mariann and I for dinner on our last night and we just walked out and found ourselves a restaurant where we could eat with a view on the street. It turned out to be Mexican and the Margaritas and enchiladas went down pretty well. To add to the fun was the reason we wanted to eat on the street. It was the day Denmark’s high school graduates were out celebrating. Each class rents a bus and goes around to every parent’s house, getting food and drink every time the bus stopped. By seven o’clock, when we saw this one, they were pretty schnockered.
And so, farewell to Denmark and thanks to Mariann for putting together a fabulous tour.
And doing it on Holland America again. This 5-Star Mariner has no objections. The perks are fabulous and I get to spend another four months with my old cruise buddies. Come along and I’ll introduce you. Take the whole thing or a segment. It’s surprisingly affordable.
128-Day Grand World Voyage
ZUIDERDAM
JAN 3 – MAY 12, 2023
DEPARTS : FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA, US
ARRIVES : FORT LAUDERDALE, FLORIDA, US
Cruise around the world roundtrip from Ft. Lauderdale. Explore colorful ports and stay in incredible destinations: Panama City, Tahiti, Sydney, Hobart, Adelaide, Perth, Cape Town, and Amsterdam. Return, forever changed. Note the itinerary proceeds west from Fort Lauderdale, so you start at the right side of the map.
It’s surprisingly affordable and there’s not much flying involved. And take a look at the terms of part two here. Like the cheap cancellation insurance and the single cabins. I haven’t had time to check them out for the world, but, show some interest and I’ll do that in a heartbeat.
OK: PART TWO – Fall for Montreal – and Sail with Me – Just for Fun
There are now 5 of us girls on HAL’s Montreal to Fort Lauderdale and, in the process of booking one of them, I found out that the Zaandam has SINGLE cabins. Single ocean-view cabins, if you don’t mind. So I have two of those sold, now. The singleness of them brings the price down below $2000 US, including taxes and fees. You can probably pay your tips and still be under $2,000. Singles don’t see deals like that very often. And, for about $150, you can put “Cancel any Reason” cancellation insurance on it and get 80% of your money back up to 28 hours before sailing. Just in case COVID has another wave or Monkey pox actually becomes contagious, which it isn’t very, you know.
We can play in Montreal for four days or so and then just take a taxi to the pier. My city is finally waking up and the shows and festivals are back. Just for Laughs and the Montreal Jazz Festival have full programs. I don’t know what’s going to be on in late September, but we board on a Saturday and so there’s bound to be something great. And I’ll have you on tour of the city and surrounding area, getting you into places only I can. Gourmet restaurants abound and I’ll take you to have the best Rotisserie Chicken in the town that invented it. Did you know that? Then there’s Montreal smoked meat, another delicacy “de chez nous”. We can skip poutine but you can order it at the chicken place or the smoked meat place. You get to meet a bunch of my Montreal friends, too.
.Might as well grab it. But don’t book it online – call or email and let me collect the commission, for my trouble in organizing the best time ever in Montreal. I can’t wait to show off my city. I am leaving town on June 19, so dawdle not. Ship Ahoy! All aboard!
The McGill Community for Lifelong Learning recorded it a couple of weeks ago and put it up to their YouTube Channel.
You can spend 45 minutes with it here, whenever you want to.
I have to warn you, it contains a number of politically incorrect slides. I certainly didn’t mean any offence to anyone by posting them. We just had a lot of fun back then. But, if anyone is really offended, let me know and I’ll have the offending material removed.
A number of you will see yourselves in the pictures. I hope you find that fun. Be honored. They have captured some of my fondest memories.
Registration closed at midnight last night, but if you still want to come, I have a way to get you in, if you’ll promise to donate $10 Canadian, to MCLL. Just email me and I’ll send you both links.
Time: Friday, May 6, 1:00 p.m. Presenter: Helen Megan
When she found herself between husbands and banging her head against the glass ceiling, Helen Megan left a nonetheless very full, fun life in Montreal, to seek her fortune in Hong Kong. How this happened and what she found there will be revealed in this light-hearted look at a fascinating and complex place. Helen will illustrate her presentation with personal anecdotes and pictures.
There. Doesn’t that look Official? It’s part of the McGill Community for Lifelong Learning program. I have the mis-fortune to be a personal friend of this year’s Program Coordinator, so I got tapped. Most of these lectures are from serious people about serious things. And, then there’s me. I couldn’t be serious if you paid me. But here I am and I wonder how serious they are because
They scheduled me against
This is a famous doctor talking about the subject most near and dear to our hearts. I’m doomed.
But… If any of my friends (That’s you) wants to hear my Hong Kong story again, no holds barred, and with pictures, you can. It’ll cost you ten bucks Canadian but I think it will be a fun and I’d love to see you there.
Then click on “Checkout” – When this screen presents, unless you are one of the chosen few who already takes classes at McGill, go over the black bar with “I am a new user” in it, scroll down and click on “Create Account”
And, I warn you. It’s not the easiest thing in the world so pay close attention. It might be an intelligence test. Thank God all my friends are smart. If it defeats you, call me and I’ll help you through it.
After you’re all signed up, just wait for the link on Thursday and I’ll see you on Friday.
Fall for Montreal – and Sail with Me – Just for Fun
I am not even working on this sailing – well, I will for my own friends and clients, but it’s not official. As you know, I was supposed to be hosting New York City to Quebec on Crystal in October, but we all know what happened to that. My good friend from Napa, Carol Berg, had a cabin booked on it, too. We were bummed when Crystal put its keel in the air. I just got Carol her money back in a tearing hurry and we left it alone for awhile.
Last week carol came back to me and I had a look at options to include some fun in Montreal. I am a 5-star Mariner on Holland America, thanks to all those world cruises, and I get travel partner rates. So, I turned up this:
It’s brilliant! I figured it would be a treat and Carol agreed. We can play in Montreal for four days or so and then just take a taxi to the pier. My city is finally waking up and the shows and festivals are back. James Taylor played the Bell Centre on Thursday. I don’t know what’s going to be on in late September, but we board on a Saturday and so there’s bound to be something great. And I’ll have you on tour of the city and surrounding area, getting you into places only I can. Gourmet restaurants abound and I’ll take you to have the best Rotisserie Chicken in the town that invented it. Did you know that? Then there’s Montreal smoked meat, another delicacy “de chez nous”. We can skip poutine but you can order it at the chicken place or the smoked meat place. You get to meet a bunch of my friends, too.
It may not be SilverSea or Oceania, but when you sail Holland America with me, we buy premium wine packages for 50% off and party like it’s Napa. That’s what 5 stars will do for you.
Who’s in? The more the merrier. Have a look at X256 9-DAY THE ATLANTIC COAST (hollandamerica.com). The current offer includes: 3 DAY DEAL: $200 Shore Excursion Credit per stateroom. Take advantage of this great cruise at the lowest fare available and a 50% reduced deposit (non-refundable).
Might as well grab it. But don’t book it online – call or email and let me collect the commission, for my trouble in organizing the best time ever in Montreal. I can’t wait to show off my city. But I’m waffling. If a couple of people sign up by Tuesday. I’ll put down my deposit. So, dawdle not. Ship Ahoy! All aboard! Whatever.
On Monday, April 4, we disembarked in Civitavecchia, port for Rome, Italy, around 9:00 am. That’s when they basically kick you off the ship to make room for the next lot. Such is cruising. It’s no use refusing. If you didn’t pay for the next leg, off you go. Anthony from DayTrip picked the six of us up with a nice shiny black Mercedes, to ease the pain.
It was a pleasant sunny ride to Fiumicino, airport for Rome, for Tricia and Helen. We left Pat and Mike and Pat and Toby in our nice limo, to go check in at Rome Cavalieri, a Waldorf Astoria Hotel, now run by Hilton. I kind of wished I was going with them, as I do love Rome, but I love the shows in London’s West End even more. So, off we went.
We were very spoiled by our nice ride to Fiumicino, so while we were in the airport, I managed to log in and book us a car and driver to the Conrad St. James in London, too. We got that one from a company called Tranzitt, and it was only 70 quid for a good long ride. The car was basic but clean and the driver found the fastest way in. We were just in time for a drink and nibbles in the Executive Lounge. We had opted for that rather than full breakfasts and it did turn out to be a lot better deal. I’m not eating breakfast anyway these days, but I have taken to tea and scones, and have always had wine before dinner.
There’s a pub next door to the Conrad, called “Feathers” and, while the service was slow, it certainly had good pub atmosphere and food. Tricia had toad in the hole and I had fish ‘n chips. All that was missing were the crowds. I didn’t miss them much.
The Conrad St. James is a modern hotel, but it served our purposes nicely. It’s located on St. James’s Park, so it’s central without being frantic. I would recommend it. The area is Tricia’s old stomping grounds. She was once Head Housekeeper at the St. James Hotel, after starting her career at Brown’s.
Tricia had a bunch of errands to run on Tuesday morning, April 5. I took care of business in the room, which made a great office. In the afternoon, we walked through St. James’s Park on our way to Harrod’s. London has some beautiful parks and they are exceptional in the spring. This is where we entered.
There is a large assortment of feathered wildlife in the park and the males of the species were horny. I love this time of year. I spent hours watching the pigeons display on McGill’s Lower Campus, from the windows of the Redpath Library, when I was a student, and should have been studying something else. There were no exams on pigeon mating dances.
We came out of the park near Buckingham Palace, so Tricia decided I should have a quintessential tourist picture and here it is.
It hadn’t started to rain yet, but you can see the threatening cloud over my right shoulder, so the raincoat was a good idea. Like I had much else to wear. I was in carry-on, remember. We had a look at the map and, figuring we were only half way to Harrods and had done the pretty part of the walk, we hopped a cab from Canada Gate to Harrods. Neither of us had been to Harrods for at least 25 years and what a disappointment that was. If I want any Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Gucci, etc. I can get it a two minute walk from my own apartment in Montreal at Holt Renfrew Ogilvy. There were no regular English items whatsoever. All that was left of the Food Halls were a few biscuits and a couple of pots of jam. We took another cab back to the Conrad and had tea in the lounge, which was very nice. The scones were better than the ship’s.
When we got back to the hotel, we noted a lot of security and asked the doorman who our dignitary was. It turned out to be a whole soccer team – Real Madrid, no less. They weren’t in the Lounge, though. But the TV told us that Zelensky would be speaking to the UN soon, so we finished our tea and went back to our room to watch, where we could have the sound. The situation in the Ukraine is so heartbreaking.
We went off to escape into a fairy tale. First we took a cab to Drury Lane, where the Gillian Lynne Theatre is, and set to looking for a restaurant. I fancied Indian food, because it’s good in London and, with the help of a local, we ended up in Punjab, on Neal St., which has been there since 1946. The food was a little hot for Tricia but I thought it was excellent.
Then we went to the theatre. Our seats were absolutely perfect, fifth row, center. Couldn’t be beat. We were a little uneasy, being two of about ten people in the whole place wearing masks, but it was too late to turn back a month ago. One person in thirteen in London tests positive for COVID, and here they all were, acting like there was nothing to fear. You would have thought they would be more sensible.
Cinderella is the new Andrew Lloyd Webber musical and it was absolutely wonderful. Just the tonic we needed. It had the costumes, and the dancing, and the singing, and enough twists on the old plot to hold our interest. Some of the dancing was positively spectacular. We were a pair of very happy campers. We were lucky, too. When we got out into the cold windy night, we managed to find an off-duty taxi on his way home, who was going our way.
Wednesday, April 6, Tricia was off again in the morning while I worked out and worked a bit. Among other things, she went to see what the St. James Hotel was like now. But her/our real treat was Tea at Brown’s Hotel in the afternoon. Look at us, will you?
Of course it was champagne tea, with all the trimmings. We could have had that sandwich tier refilled as often as we wanted, too. We did get a double order of scones, jam and clotted cream. Oh, yum. The décor was Victorian or maybe Edwardian, but so what you want for afternoon tea? The pianist could have been better, but we didn’t care. We were in hog heaven. When the staff found out Tricia had worked there and lived in, they provided us with a guide and a little tour of the historic parts of the hotel. The most notable tidbit, and one Tricia had not known, is that Brown’s Hotel is where Alexander Graham Bell was when he made that first transatlantic phone call.
By the time we were done there, there wasn’t much to do but go to the theatre again. This time it was Dirty Dancing on Tottenham Court Road. Again, we sat with our KN95s among the great unmasked. Again, it was an excellent show. I could take Michael O’Reilly home in my suitcase. We agreed that we preferred Cinderella, but this was no mistake, either.
I had planned to stay until Friday, with a fourth day in London, but had started to question that, and I didn’t have a third show booked – yet. Instead of getting a third show, I decided to see if I could improve on my air arrangements. I had booked my return flight on Air Canada, business class, with United points, back in December. It was a nonstop. A month later, it had become LHR-YYZ-YUL. Now YYZ is Toronto, which means the plane flies for an hour longer so you can get off, wait, change planes and fly another hour back to Montreal. This adds three hours and no fun at all to the trip. I wondered if the nonstop might not have been reinstated.
Well, it was, but not so’s a poor passenger who had previously booked it would know. (The bastards.) And, they had sold it out of seats available for points flyers. But, they still had space on Thursday, April 7. For a few more points and just a few more dollars, I changed my flight to Thursday. Tricia was picking up her car for her month-long tour of England, so she offered me a ride to the airport. That worked well. We were not pleased to see that Heathrow is now charging you five pounds to set down a passenger, though. What next?
I meant to be writing this blog on the airplane but I was exhausted and I slept most of the way home. I got tested for COVID in Montreal on Thursday because I had not filled out the ArriveCAN app and they wouldn’t accept the paper version Air Canada in London had given me to fill out. Apparently the rules changed again on Thursday. First you need it, then you don’t, then you do. I was supposed to be notified within 48 hours by text to phone and by email and was told to self-isolate. I got no results but my cold got worse. I did a home test and it was negative. On Saturday, I reported the cold to my doc and she told me to self-isolate and approved my med choices. I ordered groceries on line. Sunday, the groceries came and I muddled through the day, feeling lousy but not terrible.
On Monday I got a call from the Federal Government checking on me, to be sure I was self-isolating and to see how I was. I had tested positive at the airport, last Thursday. I wasn’t surprised but I wasn’t happy that no text or email had come to let me know. So, if I am lucky, I get to come out on Easter Sunday. That’s appropriate.
It was not the cruise that did me in. That was a nice vaccinated, tested bubble full of heathy people. You would know if the ship was struggling with COVID on board. There’s nothing like a ship’s rumor mill, especially on a cruise that hardly sees a port. It was definitely London. But, not to worry. I am getting better.
Still, and seemingly forever, at sea on Saturday, March 26, we saw a lot of people at the desk but it was pretty much all chit-chat. We still need waivers from a couple of people, both of whom say they have signed them. They just haven’t delivered them.
The ship has been pitching and rolling, but its stabilizers are very good and we are all fine. This is the view from the window behind our desk:
The water line goes all the way up the window and disappears, too. It’s impressive to watch.
My email brought the menu from our Funchal tour guide, which I shall be pleased to publish in tomorrow’s newsletter. Today, it was all logging and blogging.
We had Happy Hour and then we all went to dinner in the dining room. A lot of our people were at that Happy Hour, because it was the best yet and the word was out. We finally got to see Michelle Montuori and she’s great. She got a lot of people up dancing. The dancers from the show were available as dance partners and our Cruise Director, Peter Roberts even sang. He made a very good Beatle. The after dinner entertainment was George Clancy again, and this time I stayed awake.
On Sunday, March 27, we were supposed to be in Punta Delgado, but that was not to be because of the weather. The captain is concerned about damage to this pretty ship and its lovely passengers. So, on we sail. When we finally get to Funchal, we will have been 9 days at sea.
I Played Bridge again in the afternoon. T’was fun. Happy Hour was small and we had a nice dinner with Pat and Mike and Pat and Toby for dinner. We saw the pianist, Linda Gentile, again after dinner. The bloody clocks moved forward another hour.
Forever at sea on Monday March 28, we had more office hours, where a lot of small unreportable things happen, all pleasant enough. And we got a newsletter out focusing on the tour.
We had a nice lively happy hour and dinner with Pat & Mike and Pat & Toby at Jacques, Chef Jacques Pepin’s signature restaurant on board. It was absolutely delicious and I made a total porker of myself. I had a cheese soufflée, followed by onion soup gratinée, roast beef and chocolate mousse for dessert. A very good chocolate mousse, I might add, darkly. We took in the Broadway show in concert, while downing a club soda, in an attempt to settle that lot. It worked, more or less. We had to be up early next morning.
Tuesday, March 29 was the date of our Distinctive Voyages Shore Excursion in Funchal, Portugal. Our 49 people who were coming on tour all made it into Jacques between 7:30 am and 8:00 am and we were ready to go off. We weren’t meeting a bus. We were meeting seven Land Rovers, with seven nice young driver/guides. There was an 8th Land Rover, containing TrueSpirit’s manager, and a film crew with a drone. They had photographed Marina coming in to port and were coming along to get more shots of our tour.
Off we went. Our first stop was the “Skywalk” that had struck fear into my travelers when first they read the tour description. It turned out to be a piece of cake and it had excellent souvenirs. Standing on my balcony overlooking Peel St. is scarier.
It didn’t take long for the reason for the four wheel drive vehicles to become apparent. This is mountain goat country. These two little guys were right beside the road posing for us, as we wended our way up into the mountains.
There had been a lot of rain and the road, which wasn’t very wide in the first place, was washed out in a couple of places. Our drivers had to get out, scope the lay of the land and maneuver appropriately. One lady, in my jeep, had her head buried in her lap and came up muttering “I want my money back”. My instant reply was “You already have it. It was free.” That happened early on in what turned out to be a fabulous tour. She and everyone else was very happy with the tour. The reviews are great. Our new supplier has definitely scored.
Our second stop was a tiny little enterprise that made honey. They had a wonderful deck to look out from and the best honey most of us had ever had. Some of it was inside dark chocolate and it was to die for. This is a new enterprise and very small. They didn’t have any for sale. We would have cleaned them out if they had. Maybe someone else did that yesterday.
On we climbed through the terraced vineyards, placed wherever they could be. Take a look at this:
Up near the top was the winery and they had quite a bit or wine for us to taste. We were very happy when we left there. Lunch was another room with a view. It was a revolving restaurant, with both sea and mountain views. The food was good and the wine flowed freely there too. Too bad I am barely drinking anymore. Not that I can when I am working, anyway. Got a lot of pictures of happy people, though. As usual, I got my pictures during the salad course. I never touch the stuff so it’s no hardship.
We piled back into the jeeps and proceeded to Madeira to taste — you guessed it. About 6 kinds of it, no less. TrueSpirit had more to show us, but I had to remind them that we were due back at the ship at 4:30 pm to sail at five. It was a wonderful day, and, when I went through ship’s security at 4:45 pm, there were only 4 passengers still out. We certainly made the most of that port.
Believe it or not, we were at Happy Hour at 5:30 pm, and there were a few people with us. We only wanted a buffet dinner after that day, and a couple of them joined us. I had the lightest dinner I had had yet, mostly sushi, and was up a good part of the night digesting it. It happens.
Back at sea on Wednesday, March 30, I sent a thank you email to TrueSpirit and got a reply back that they were so happy to have had our “enthusiastic and joyful group”. I like that we are referred to that way.
It was a bit of a zoo at the desk because Oceania was having a County Fair, which should have been held in the pool area, but, well, the weather there was far from cooperative. The Captain announced that we were now going to miss Marseille, too, because of it. That’s three ports cancelled. We have been at sea 12 days and only seen 2 ports.
I stayed at the desk and finished a newsletter to send around with the comments cards, which Tricia duly delivered. We had a nice Happy Hour and dinner at Toscanna with Pat and Mike and Pat and Toby. I liked Toscanna a lot. We went to the show, too. It was Dimitris Dekavallas on the Spanish Guitar. Go figger.
On Thursday, March 31, we docked in Malaga, Spain. This is only the second time we have been on shore, and the third time for the ship. We had skipped the first day on the private island in the Caribbean. Malaga is a nice city and I can usually have a lot of fun just walking around and taking the Hop On Hop Off Bus. The six of us, Pat and Mike, Pat and Toby, Tricia and I did exactly that. The plan was to ride all the way around and those who wished could get off at the ship, while the others went off seeking adventure. The others turned out to be just me and it wasn’t my best decision. I had chosen the downtown stop I wanted to get off at on the first round and, when it came around again, I duly alighted.
It was raining lightly but not so’s you’d notice under the spreading trees that lined the boulevard. Not until the sky really opened, that is. It poured. I made a run for the Santander Bank because I needed Euros anyway.
The cheapest way to get local currency is to stick one’s debit card into a local ATM, and Santander is the big Spanish Bank. The ship was offering Euros for $1.17 US plus a 5% fee. I expected to do better. Not quite. Santander’s rate was $1.20 plus a 7 euro fee. On 100 euros I would have been better off with the ship. So, I took out 300 euros, just to make it worthwhile. I’ll be able to use them in the summer. It will be interesting to see what the rate is then. Some days I am more brilliant than others. Some days I should stay in bed.
Strolling around downtown in the pouring rain is not my idea of a great time, but I still wanted my churros y chocolate. I got back on the HOHO bus and got off at Il Corte Ingles, Spain’s big department store, where I used to buy shoes for Elvon. It made a nice rainy afternoon browse. I went to the Café on the 6th floor for my churros but you can’t have them until five pm and I had to be back on board before then. I settled for Iberico ham and eggs and very greasy potatoes, which repeated for hours. I did get my cup of hot chocolate, though, and it was wonderful. Spanish hot chocolate is like warm dark chocolate pudding. Unctuous is the word that comes to mind. It’s my treat whenever I am in Spain.
I was back to the ship by about three-thirty. We did Happy Hour and dinner in the dining room, saw the show, a repeat performance by Chris Ritchie, and called it a day.
Still at sea on April 1st, no one noticed it was April Fool’s Day. Not a soul. I always used to like the mixed up rugs with the days on them in Holland America’s elevators, but Oceania didn’t mark the day and no one said a word.
It was quiet at the desk, just social calls from passersby. I wrote one more Newsletter to remind my people that there is money to be won for filling in the Comments Card and that we are having a Farewell Dinner on the last night.
Happy Hour was good again. It’s always the same core group but the ones that come like each other and it’s a nice way to wind down the day. We ate at Polo Grill with Pat and Mike and Pat and Toby. The service was better but the wow was gone the second time. Jaded, we are. Dimitris, the Virtuoso Guitarist was back on stage and that was a nice end to our day.
April 2nd was another sea day. It was supposed to be Marseille but the weather has kept us offshore here, too. The Mediterranean in bad weather is more of a chop, where the Atlantic was large swells. Marina rode both out admirably, but she wasn’t going to try docking. More’s the pity because we were really looking forward to our stop in Provence.
So there were more office hours. A couple of women traveling together came by for a fun chat. They have a cousin on board who actually found himself a girlfriend. There is hope. More hope for the guys than for the gals, by the numbers, but hope, none-the-less. I updated the tally of Comments Cards in, printed and cut up entries for the drawing.
Happy Hour was fun and the show was great. I love the all-singing, all-dancing production numbers. This one was called “Dancin’ Fool”, so you can imagine.
Sunday, April 3, we docked, in Monte Carlo, across the harbour from the Yacht Club de Monaco, like we were supposed to, for once. I had one phone call to deal with, from a passenger who had heard that when a ship misses three ports, there might be some insurance compensation to come I the form of trip interruption. She wanted a letter on Oceania letterhead, describing that had happened and naming the ports. I emailed the Executive Concierge and she was happy to comply. I wonder if it worked.
The weather wasn’t perfect but it was acceptable and I was taking a couple of my people to the YCM, as promised. I had a couple more takers earlier on, but they decided it was too much money to just spend on Brunch when they could give it to the Ukraine. So, the three of us walked over to the club, past the grandstands for the Grand Prix, in various stages of completion and the mega yachts. We took pictures of each other on this exclusive spot.
Then we went in to Brunch. It was wonderful, not as wonderful as pre-COVID, where the food was on display for ogling and photography, but still wonderful. We were served our oysters on the half shell, lobster, smoked salmon, sushi, sashimi, carpaccio, multiple salads (not me) torchons de foie gras, on and on. And those were just the starters. We partook lightly of the main courses and saved room for dessert.
Yes, I really ate the four of those. I was in heaven. It was a Champagne Brunch, of course and the Moet et Chandon flowed into our glasses from jeroboams, throughout.
And I learned something important. The last time I brought people here for brunch, there were eight of us. The club gave us a private room and charged us about $250 each. This time we were seated in the main restaurant, and charged about half as much. It was even more fun, too, as we could watch the fashion parade that was the buffet line. The little boys in $300 shirts and $800 shoes, were particularly endearing. Their fathers were in jeans and $2000 sports jackets. You can just imagine what the women were wearing, just for brunch at the club, you know. My numbers are probably low. I don’t shop in those places much. I did buy myself the YCM silk scarf for $200, though. I’ll have it for the rest of my life and it’s red and white.
After all that food and champagne, it’s a good thing we were walking. I didn’t even have time for a nap because there were phone calls to return about dinner tonight and the drawing to arrange. There were at least twenty people in Horizons for Happy Hour. I was running back and forth to the Dining Room with late dinner reservations, etc. In the middle of it all, we made the lucky draw and it was won by a person who “never wins anything”. Luck changes.
Seventeen people come to our Farewell Dinner. I had consommé and a baked potato and the lady who had come to the YC with me had a couple of French fries. We were pretty done in. Tricia was fine, of course. She had gone touring with Pat and Mike and Pat and Toby, our original friends from Santa Rosa. We are all friends now.
On Monday, April 4, we disembarked in Civitavecchia, port for Rome, Italy, and that’s the next installment.
Helen Megan 