Roseau, Dominica . . .

hello Dominica.
goodbye Dominica.

we went tubing down the Layou River, and since we were in a rain forest, and since it was raining, and since I kinda wanted my Canon 50d to stay dry, and because I brought an underwater throw-a-way that needs to be developed, and since Walmart has to send the film out, and because it is only Monday and it won't be back for a week . . .

we'll be back Dominica.

st. bart's . . .

St. Bart's reminds me of Oranjestad in Aruba. Perfect little town with sky high prices and personal yachts bigger than anything we saw in St. Tropez or Cannes. EEK!! But first, the 9TS had to have some cop food:

But it was gorgeous with its anchor downtown:

its little shops:

with odd models:

and colorful houses:

and mailboxes:

and our way to Shell Beach:

and then back past little churches:

and their gardens:

and up the hill:

and around a corner to Cheese Burger in Paradise, yes we did:
and just one more parting shot:

the baths . . .

first port and yay, I am ready to get off the boat and onto dry land. While the 9TS is a seagoing sailor, I am a wimp and while I was not seasick, I was glad to stop wandering down halls like a drunken soldier.

How typically Caribbean is this???

Virgin Gorda! I had been to the Baths some 20+ years ago via catamaran from St. Thomas. It was still just as gorgeous but now there were steps and ropes to help navigate the boulders and bathrooms and food. Big changes but still fairly pristine.

In no particular order, may I present, the churning blue Caribbean:

The welcoming committee:

the path down to the beach:

The welcome sign:

the rocks:

more rocks:

yet more rocks:

and just one more . . . I promise!

and a beer. You knew there had to be a beer shot, right?!?!?!?!

Adios, Virgin Gorda. Love you!

day 3: At C . . .

A peaceful day at sea. The 9TS and I headed for the deck for a little R&R after breakfast on the open air tail deck. Color us contented.


Soon the PA system announced the parade of officers:
\
and the band played:


before dinner, we relaxed on our balcony:

where my dear 9TS demonstrated his version of Junior Birdman:

yep, that's what I thought too!!!

happy birthday . . .

dear 9TS . . . la la la la!

We had a wonderful birthday dinner in Toscana, one of the ship's two specialty restaurants. If you wanted to, you could eat all seven courses but we both opted for just four. The 9TS had his calamari, Tuscany Bean soup and their version of Pasta di Mare and I scarfed down on tomato, mozzarella and basil salad, the same yummy soup and a filet mignon. Just let me roll over in happiness now.

For dessert, they brought a seven layer chocolate cake with three candles and sang happy birthday to the sloth. The head waiter had to remind the staff to sing in English. Snort.

So in all this glory, what do I remember to take pictures of??????

The bread plate:

and my slice of the cake:

yes, old age has slipped in to us both. Happy 68th Birthday my dear 9TS!!!

early morning . . .

and armed with both MapQuest and AAA Trip Tiks, found us on our way to Miami. Now it's not exactly that we don't know how to get from here to there, it's getting to the Port that tests my sanity. Both sources offer 20 lines and 18 turns to make the two mile trek from I-95 to the the J Terminal. Mind boggling. But once we made it, there were customs to clear, people to watch, a boat to explore, all before sail away. Things were looking good.

I must admit that the city of Miami looks a darn sight better from the water than it does while enmeshed within its bowels.

and while we waited for our cabin to be readied, we wandered, happy to be back on an R class ship.

They are tiny little dinghies compared to most ships. A mere 650 passengers. No rock climbing. No water slides. No kids programs. Actually no kids. Not that they are not allowed, but there are no resources for them. And as the 9TS not so kindly nicknamed it, we seemed to be on the 'cruise of the living dead'. Oops can I repeat that? We were among the youngest on board. There were more liver spots than my old dalmatian. I'm not complaining mind you, we met some real pistols on board and loved every minute . . . well except for 'cab man' but you have to wait for Tortola to meet him.

And then the obligatory life boat drill and muster. Can you tell how happy the 9TS was as we waited for instructions in the grand dining room???

after a good dinner and a trip to the casino, he was a contented beast . . . captain of his own seas.

magic doors and other chaos . . .

We sprang a leak. Or two. It happens when you live in the land of wild winds and driving rain. And three hurricanes in one season years back, laid the foundation for the damage. We finally found a company willing to scamper up the steep angle of our roofs to fix the damage. Hooray.

But first, they had to bring in equipment and give our huge laurel oak a haircut, a nice bob, a little shorter in the back, tapered at the sides . . . perfect for Florida weather:

and once they made enough space, they started ripping off the rotten wood on the upper gable.

and to my utter delight, they discovered a magic door!!!

now you might think the door was to blow in insulation or other stuffy reasons, but I know better.

this is definitely a portal for creatures great and small of types only a wily imagination can create and I intend to have great fun with it . . . .

but on with the story of men in trees:

and boys with their toys:

a mere two and a half days later, they were done replacing all of the rotten wood, painted everything in sight, fixed the chimney and another low board I had managed to demolish when the lawn mower got away from me, and packed up their scaffolding and were on their way.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, men who scampered like squirrels and worked like slaves. You did a great job!!!!