Last week, I received some disappointing news: My upcoming trip to the pineapple plantation will include only a sampling snack instead of the lunch we were promised. Bummer.
Oh yes, my sister and brother-in-law and I soon will be on the road again, or more precisely, on a ship. This adventure has been expertly timed to rescue my siblings from the harsh Illinois winter. I signed up because I’d be a fool to pass up an opportunity to sit on a sunny deck with a chilled beverage in my hand.
Our fearsome threesome is positively giddy to once again be joining a couple thousand similarly motived people on the high seas, where we hope to eat fine foods, be regaled with world-class entertainment, (at least the part of the world that is willing to share inside cabins in between shows), and generally frolic as much as our stamina and knee braces will allow.
The ship is a wonderland in itself and a body could do worse to just bob around for a few days on the ocean until they plunked us back where we started. Most days, however, our ship will pull into a port, allowing us additional adventures. Amazingly thin ropes pull us alongside and the gangplank is lowered, allowing a good portion of the sailing thousands to stream onto the shore. Properly sorted and stickered, we scurry (toddle) to our assigned buses where a local guide takes charge of the day’s entertainment. We will learn history. We will see landmarks. There will be corny jokes. It’s all great fun.
The excursions are pretty wide-ranging, but my little crew does not range very far. Our booking rules include no submarines (that was mine), no helicopters (my sister’s), and no encounters with oversized birds. That last rule was implemented after our Canadian “Fun with Falcons” excursion where we lined up with chunks of raw meat on our sleeves to entice a large hawk to land on our arms. I’ll admit, it was fun, but once is enough. We don’t sign up for kayaking or rock climbing or anything that involves upper body strength. Actually, anything that involves strength at all. Not only are we ill-equipped in that arena, we are on vacation. We set out to make it ALEAP situation (as little effort as possible). If the tour description says “strenuous,” it is right out. Sometimes, “moderate” puts us over the edge. We will venture off the bus, but not into anything that involves exertion.
Whether our excursion takes us inland or simply onto another boat, it is expected that someone will give us food of some kind. Given that we will have been eating up until the moment we disembarked the ship, you would think this would be unnecessary, which of course, it is, but you’d have a hard time convincing my fellow passengers. I guarantee that there are people on the phone right now wailing about the plantation lunch/snack swap.
On some excursions, eating is the whole point. If we are docked in Maine, everyone will want a lobster roll. If a town has a famous doughnut shop, we must come out with one in each hand. I’ve tried mead and goat cheese on Prince Edward Island and had homemade oat cakes served to me by nice church ladies in Nova Scotia while a kilted trio played Scottish folk songs. The songs might have been enough, but the oatcakes were a nice touch.
The plantation lunch/swap snack will be fine. We’ll live through it. I’ll just throw a granola bar in my purse.
