RESOLUTIONS

 Well, here it is--December 31st and, whereas, I had planned to have all of my 2013 Resolutions quite neatly tied up by this time, I don't.  In fact I'm not even close.  In greater fact, I haven't even started.  It's a mess.

First, I had hoped that 2013 would be a year of createfulness as hinted at by my wonderful new planner, and a not quite as wonderful new journal for my createful thoughts.  However, createfulness takes time, and I've had very little of that lately, so all bets are off.

Second, since at 68 I may not have many cognitive years left, I had hoped that 2013 might be the year in which I stepped out in my centrist political way and supported various causes that I feel are critically important to the future of this country.  However, I've become so discouraged by our federal and state legislative branches and their lack of interest in the welfare of the people who sent them there, I've lost all interest.  I guess I'll just continue ranting to BC each morning as we read the newspaper.

Third, because the economy has been on the skids since the day after I retired, I decided that 2013 would have to be the year I designed a carefully crafted budget, based on detailed records of 2012 income vs. expenditures with allowances for inflation, and then follow it to the letter each day.  Unfortunately, I've spent 2012 as Treasurer of the SCG Photo Club managing their bookeeping to the highest possible standard and will present a bang-up 2013 budget at their next board meeting.  I'll just continue praying for the best regarding my own finances.

Fourth, having learned that I just don't function well if my world isn't organized, 2013 was to have been the year this entire house (yes, even under that guest room bed)  would be organized to the nth degree.  I would begin in the den on January 1st, march into a new room the first of each month, and by December 31, 2013, close the door on a home filled with color-coded totes, decorative (and artistically labelled) baskets, bins and crates. So what happens if my so-called budget (see #3 above) doesn't allow for gas to get to the Container Store on the other side of the valley?  Resolutions are so complicated.  

Fifth, it's time to look at personal improvement.  I need to be a stronger person.  I need to continue my efforts to become a critical thinker.  I need to come up with something really intellectual to say at book club.  I need to speak up in measured tones when a crazy person says something that I really, really disagree with.  I need to be a wimp no longer.  I need to go to downtown Phoenix, stand in front of Governor Jan Brewer's office and shout, "I am a centrist Democrat and, NO, you may not run for a third term."  I need to write a thought-provoking letter to the Arizona Republic.  I need to admit my fashion style is preppy and buy that plaid skirt at Banana Republic Outlet.

Sixth, exercise.  Doesn't it always come down to exercise?  Do it more often.  Do it longer.  Do it harder.  Do it better.  You just need to be glad I do it at all.  So there.  Now I'm ready for 2013...and for the champagne BC's bringing home from the store.  HAPPY NEW YEAR!             

AN ARIZONA CHRISTMAS

I met a young mother yesterday morning at the doctor's office.  This is her first year to live in the Phoenix area and she's not prepared for Christmas. She seemed a bit frazzled as she repeated that Christmas is only a week and a half away.  She's trying, but she just can't shop for Christmas unless she's wearing her heavy coat, snuggly scarf, warm gloves, and it's brrr cold outside.  That hasn't happened yet.  She's beginning to worry.

She's right.  It is hard to get in the Christmas mood when the air is balmy, the grass is green, the flowers are blooming and palm trees line the streets.  But it can be done.  It's just not the same.  But then again, it's not the same when the kids are grown.  It's not the same when Grandma's not there for dinner.  It's not the same when--dare I say--Santa doesn't slide down the chimney anymore.  But it's still Christmas and we must soldier on.

This year, we'll be staying home for Christmas.  We won't be joining the kids in Kansas or Missouri, or Minnesota, or Oklahoma, or New Jersey.  It won't be the same.  But, we've invited our neighbors to join us for the afternoon and it will be a good day.  We'll sip a little bubbly, eat a (we hope) great dinner, laugh, talk, and realize how lucky we are to have ended up in the same cul-de-sac.

Company and Christmas mean decorating, and so a few days ago BC took our tree from storage and placed it on our patio, as I pulled ornament boxes from the garage and began the long journey down memory lane.

When Michael was about two or three, Grandma bought an ornament for each of the four kids complete with their name engraved on each.  Apparently, we rubbed Mickie's little behind for good luck as it certainly outshines the rest of her "angelic" being.  Kristi did indeed love to rock and wore out more than one little rocking chair.  Michael's image is dead on as he loved his cowboy boots and quite often wore ONLY boots for days on end.  Thank God we lived on an isolated farm.  But...where is Denise?

Denise's little ornament has disappeared.  Gone?  Lost?  Certainly not in the ornament box.  Fortunately, we do have this little lovely that one of her elementary teachers made.  What a creative teacher!  This ornament definitely has staying power.

Now, this may not have BC's name engraved or painted on it, but it might as well have.  Trust me, this shouts BC.  This purple Kansas State Santa (note the PowerCat wreath) is BC to a T.  Did you know Kansas State will play Oregon at this year's Fiesta Bowl?  Did you know the Fiesta Bowl is only a hop, skip, and a K-State jump from our development?  Well it is, they will, and we hope it goes well!!

A few years ago my sister and her husband retired to Louisville, Kentucky, his home town.  They love it. My sister has found wonderful friends and her grandchildren are close by.  My brother in law has left his attorney life behind and now leads fantastic tours of Churchill Downs and "Old Friends", a thoroughbred rescue farm.  Their Christmas gifts are appropriately themed. 

In the course of my tree-trimming afternoon, I found ornaments sold by the Dodge City Junior and Senior High School Orchestra and Band in the early 1980s.  I found rough, flat wooden ornaments painted by pudgy five year old fingers.  Each year, those ornaments stick together as if the paint isn't dry yet.  I repeat scotch tape repairs of construction paper stars, clothespin reindeer and play dough trees.  And, I tear up every year.  Where are my babies?  All grown up and gone.  Snoopy here is a 1977 relic.   

A few years ago when we were in California, BC and Collin built a bird-house at a Lowe's workshop.  Collin's Mommy took a picture and sent it to us that Christmas.  It's hung on our tree ever since.

A few years ago at a Kappa Kappa Gamma reunion at Kansas State, we each received this Kappa key.  I've put it on the tree ever since, and each time I think of my Kappa sisters from the 1960s.  They're a remarkable group of women.  I know, because since 1967 we've shared an annual letter from each sister telling of our joys and sorrows.  We're growing old together, just as we raised our children together.  We watched our marriages flourish and sometimes fail. We celebrated our dream jobs, gave birth to our children and welcomed our grandchildren.  It's been a great ride and all the better for our connection through the journey.     

I'd like to think that this little bird has some symbolic value, but really, he doesn't at all.  I just liked him.  Early in BC's and my relationship, I bought this fellow, snuggled in his nest, because BC was a veterinarian and had a very soft spot in his heart for all creatures (OK, I'll say it) great and small, and I thought it appropriate.  Now, however, I find it kind of spooky that every year when I open that giant plastic ornament tub, he comes out looking like a million bucks and our traditional white bird and red bird look like death warmed over.  Some things we don't want to know.

A few years after she was married, Denise began doing counted cross-stitch...or maybe it was regular cross-stitch.  In any event, she was a whiz at it and among many other things, cross-stitched an ornament for everyone in the family.  Nearly all of them have survived.

This favorite dates from 1980.  The ornament pictures a Piper Tomahawk, a two-seat plane used most often as a trainer.  The little upper body you see in the window would be me.  It dates from the years when I was a flight instructor.  (Did I mention I've had a checkered career?)  A student painted this for me and I loved it.  Good, reliable November 9937 Tango.  It was a fun plane and a reliable plane that alternately reassured me and scared me to death.  It flew at incredibly low speeds, but wanted to spin in a stall.  I walked away from it in 1986, but that's another story for another time.         

I think it's time to move on.  Our tree is decorated, and at this moment its lights are, if not exactly blazing, at least on, providing a bit of brightness on a drizzly evening.  Our high today was in the 50s.  That's long undies weather for me.  I'm wearing my K-State/KKG sweatshirt and remembering all the years I've attached the same ornaments to different trees.  Live trees, cut trees, fat artificial trees, tall artificial trees, and now a sweet skinny artifical tree.  Christmas is Sacred.  Christmas is Happy.  Christmas is Comfort.  Christmas is Bittersweet. 

DAY SEVEN--CHARLOTTETOWN, PEI

Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, is perhaps best known as the setting for the Anne of Green Gables book series from long ago.  I remember reading, or trying to read, Anne of Green Gables, but just not getting into it.  In retrospect, I think it was because Anne was a little orphan who (by mistake) was sent to live with an elderly couple on a remote farm in Canada.  Now, how unnerving was that.  I was much more taken with Nancy Drew who, with her trusty friends and slick roadster, not to mention a great deal of unsupervised time, solved some pretty scary mysteries.  In all honesty, I don't even remember finishing Anne's story.  I was shallow even then. 

As BC and I studied the twelve excursions offered in Charlottetown by Holland America, we quickly passed up any that involved Anne of Green Gables shopping, the Anne of Green Gables homestead,the Anne of Green Gables Museum, or any Anne of Green Gables impersonators, and decided to explore Charlottetown on our own.  It's quite easy to do.

The ship docks right about here, Confederation Landing Park, and it's a beautiful jumping off point for the town itself.  We stopped at the Visitor Information Center, which was a bustling place, picked up our walking map, chose our route (The Heritage Walk) and headed up Great George Street... 

...where we very quickly came upon St. Dunstan's Basilica.  The church has been here, in one form or another, since 1721, but this impressive basilica was built in 1919, and praised as the "largest and most fire-resistant cathedral in the Maritimes."  I don't know about that, but it is a gorgeous building.  We need to tip-toe out now as we're disrupting Mass. 

I have surprised myself (and would have bowled over my mother) by this interest I have with visiting churches on our journeys.  I am indeed turning into my mother's daughter.  She lost more than one travel companion by insisting on visiting every church they might walk or drive by.   This dark, intimate space, attached to the larger St. Peter's Church is known as All Souls' Chapel.  Mass has been celebrated here daily since 1890.  It's nearly as faded as it looks in this poor photo, and covered in art work, stained glass and elaborately carved dark wood.  It feels very real and sincere.   

I think I mentioned early in this series that BC has a strong penchant for frugality.  I can admire that trait...to a point, but, whereas I'm wandering and planning a wonderful lunch in one of the many quaint restaurants high-lighted on our walking map, BC is suddenly drawn to the scent of charcoal at the local fire department.  Yes, they're holding a fund raiser to finance a remodel of an older section of their building.  Yes, sausage and/or hot dogs are being served.  Yes, the donation is three Canadian dollars per sausage or hot dog.  "YES," said BC, looking quite smug as he purchased our lunch.

 It's not his most flattering photo, but it does show what can bring happiness to a frugal person and, as so often happens when I'm with him, this unexpected stop turned into pure serendipity when a couple of a certain age asked if they could join us at our table.  She was a native of Charlottetown while he had moved here a few years ago when the two were married.  He loves Charlottetown and can't stop talking about it.  She smiles patiently, encourages his stories and occasionally corrects him with gentle kindness.  We enjoyed them tremendously and learned such interesting things about this historic port.  I will always think of them when I remember Charlottetown.

 

I did enjoy Charlottetown and wanted to linger at each point on our map, but we were barely halfway through the Historic Walk, and our afternoon was ticking away.

This lovely home is Beaconsfield, and is not dissimilar from many of the homes we've walked past.  Sadly, it's not for sale, but we did find a beauty a block or so away on the market for a mere one million Canadian dollars.  It had eight bedrooms.  We could open a bed and breakfast.  We could offer gourmet dinners (prepared and served by students from the Culinary Institute located conveniently across the street).  We would live happily ever after.  We were briefly insane.

 The tide is out but, even so, living on the water would be lovely.   

It's just about time to return to the Eurodam.  We're enjoying a little snack of Canadian Fries in a pub recently visited by Wills and Kate on their Canadian tour.  Perhaps we sat at the same table they did during their few minutes here.  I hope they had time to enjoy this view as much as we did.  Considering how slim and trim Kate is, I do know she wasn't filling her face with the Canadian version of French fries like we were.  

 I'm actually hating to leave.  We need to come back here, BC, rent a car and drive over all the island.  You know you're just the guy I'd like to do that with.

  I would love to know how to do this.  I suppose there are directions somewhere on the internet, but my plate is rather full at the moment.  I think I'll just enjoy the little animals our sweet Cabin Steward creates and not worry about it. 

DAY SIX--CRUISING

Today we cruise the Gulf of St. Lawrence.  Today we can't get off the ship.  Today we are (depending on your personality and/or state of mind) trapped on this boat, or the luckiest people in the world.  Take your pick.  Personally, we fall somewhere between the two extremes. 

A few years ago we actually cruised for five straight days to Hawaii , then stopped off at five of the islands--one per day, before cruising five more days back to LA.  That trip will separate the cruisers from the non-cruisers quicker than you can imagine.  A few days into the voyage, we were seated at a large table for dinner--no one knew anyone else--and the cheerful older gentleman on my left couldn't stop talking about how much he loved this cruise...he had read five books already...he had never felt better...he was totally relaxed...and, seemingly, completely unaware that his much younger wife, a lovely woman whose well manicured hands were clenched around the stem of her third glass of wine was mouthing "It's awful" and "I hate it!" to anyone whose eyes happened to meet hers.  

Thus, cruise ships, knowing that not everyone is comfortable in a confined space, does a wonderful job of scheduling their cruising days tightly...in our case providing 65 different programs/activities between 6:00 a.m. and 11:00 p.m, plus four showings of "The Avengers."  So...one could stretch at 7:00, attend Mass at 8:00, enjoy the Signature Shops Sidewalk Sale at 9:00, and be introduced to Acupuncture at 10:00.  The list goes on--highlighted by "Body Sculpt Bootcamp," "The Art of Flower Arranging," "Champagne Art Auction,"  "Learn the Tango",  and "The Basketball Shootout With Lifestylist Lance".  Considering the age of most of the passengers, I'm guessing that last activity might have been a bit anti-climactic for Lance. Actually, I'm kind of sorry we missed it. 

Since we were quite happy sleeping in (so easy to do in a windowless Standard Interior Cabin), that is indeed what we did.  After breakfast we explored the ship figuring out what was where on our tiny ship's map.  Soon, it was time for lunch followed by a few trips around the deck to walk off the excess calories that accompany most buffets.

Finally, we dropped into the surprisingly well attended lecture on "The Legend of Ernest Hemingway" given by Travel Guide Ian.  We learned about Ernest, his life, his books, his travels, his homes, his wives and his unfortunate end. Totally inspired by that lecture, we climbed nine flights of stairs to visit the library (playfully called Explorations Cafe for the pseudo Starbucks atmosphere), to find a Hemingway book or two to read.  We had just settled into a comfy cozy couch when a waiter appeared at our side asking if we'd like to order a drink for it was now Happy Hour in the adjoining Crows Nest Lounge.  Well, we replied, yes we would.  Who knew one could purchase two glasses of wine on any cruise ship for a total of $6.00.  A tremendous bargain.  Even more tremendous when we got goodies to go with.  Before the evening was over, we found ourselves chatting with a couple from Kansas, and meeting two couples from Sun City Grand (practically neighbors) we'd never laid eyes on.  

Yes, BC, life is good.

     

PLANNER PERFECT

November is perhaps my favorite month of the year.  Catalogs are filling our over-sized mailbox and among them is one of my favorites.  Franklin Covey advertising their Franklin Planners.  I have had a decades long love affair with Franklin Planners.  It began in the early 1990s when I was a hotshot banker type wearing a suit and heels to work each day.  I needed a planner (to complete my hotshot look) and Franklin fit the bill.  I purchased a "Monarch" style (8 1/2 by 11 1/2 inch pages) complete with green leather monogrammed cover, pages for all occasions (calendars, client notes, telephone reminders, address book, etc...) limited only by the 1 1/2 inch diameter rings holding it all together.  I had made a perfect match.

A few years and five bank mergers later, I lost my hotshot-ness.  Sadly, it was time to pack away the "Monarch" and move on.  I chose the slightly smaller "Classic" Franklin Planner for this next phase of my life.  Reminiscent of L.L. Bean, my Franklin Planner cover was black canvas with tan leather trim.  No need for a monogram this time...I knew who I was.  I drove a four-wheel drive Ford Explorer, remodeled a 70 year old house in a wonderful neighborhood, loved my independence and roared whenever I felt like it.  Those were good and powerful years until early one morning, just as the coffee began to drip through its filter, I detected a most unwelcome odor and traced it to...to my Franklin Planner.  Yes, Winston, my beautiful, but moody, Main Coon cat, had peed on that L.L. Bean black canvas Franklin Planner cover.  In that moment of his insanity, my illusions, delusions and lifestyle were destroyed.  I was a sailor without a ship, a farmer without a field, an insecure woman with no identity.

The following years were filled with confusion, indecision, and numerous Franklin Planner covers and pages.  I thought I was home free with the "New Yorker" edition.  But, far too soon, it was discontinued.  Then began several seasons of "The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People."  Pithy, serious, intense...it simply became too much.  I spent a pared down year with "Original" followed by a stint of classicism with "Monticello".  But, nothing was working.

So, as I looked through the 2013 catalog,  my heart dropping more with each page turned, I knew it was time for serious reflection.  The Franklin Planner had moved in a different direction than I.  We are no longer compatible.  We have irreconcilable differences.  This is a sad day but a hopeful day.  I'm going to the internet to find the planner that will walk into the future with me.  One that will fit in my purse, but have sufficient writing space on each page.  One that reflects my interests in a classy, personal sort of way.  One that...Mon Dieu...this is it!

I am in love again and my life has new meaning.  This little beauty, about 5 by 8 inches, gives me one page per day to schedule my appointments plus a small area for notes.  Its cover is "Inspired by an antique leather binding from the 1843 volume of "The Poetical Remains of Henry Kirke White of Nottingham."  Does it get any better?  I'm already filling in January dates and tucking small things into the secret pocket.  You have no idea how wonderful it is to have a reason to get up every morning...just to gaze at this reflection of my artistic and creative side.  This next year will be the best yet!

PS--These people have no idea that I'm waxing eloquent over their product, but my little lovely is made by Paperblanks and was purchased from jennibick.com.  It comes in a variety of styles and sizes and if you can handle a week on two pages, you'll be in heaven contemplating the choices.         

DAY FIVE--SAGUENAY, QUEBEC

Saguenay, Quebec, is a relatively new cruise port and, as such, there is little information to be found about it.  We looked through the excursion choices, selected one and, sacre bleu, it was already closed ten days before the cruise.  We chose another and...same story.  And yet again with a third.  We were down to choosing among a tour of a goat farm, another highlighting the industrial exploitation of the area from pulp and aluminum products or, finally, risking a probable double drowning during the Saguenay Sea Kayaking Excursion. That's not easy.

But, as we returned from breakfast, there in our little ship mail box, were two tickets for "A Stroll in the Park", our original choice for Saguenay.  "Hooray!" we shouted, completely frightening our rather timid cabin steward.

OMG, Carson has sent the car for us.  I'm sure there's a lovely thermos of tea in the back seat, tucked near the soft mohair lap blanket. The black trunk behind?  It carries the wicker basket filled with Mrs. Patmore's delightful goodies, and a bottle of bubbly for later in the afternoon.  Oh, oh really?  We ride in the school bus?  Really???  Oh... 

 

Pushing aside the dream and tamping down my over-active imagination, we lined up with the crowd and loaded ourselves into the bright yellow school bus that would take us to our destination.  I, not having ridden a school bus as a child, chose the seat just over the back wheels and sat with my chin on my knees for the one hour drive through the Saguenay National Park which, fortunately, was a beauty.  Enough so, I completely forgot I was an old lady twisted into a very uncomfortable position.  (Which I did manage to crawl out of when we arrived at the Interpretive Center.)  

 

I told you it was pretty.  It worked for me that many trees were still green which made the red's and yellow's stand out more dramatically.  BC would have liked more color, but I was happy.  Again, we experienced that wonderful silence you don't even realize surrounds you until the cry of the circling bird, or the distant wave on the beach is carried to your consciousness on the faintest of breezes.

 

 

Our stroll was quite relaxed as we often paused along the way for a nature lesson on birds of the area, fish to be found nearby, mammals that frequent the forest, or the variety of trees we were standing under.  As the little bridge in the photo above shows, it was a most civilized trail.   

 

 

We completed our stroll at the Interpretive Center where we had begun and were allowed thirty minutes in the obligatory gift shop, which did have some very neat sweaters that I regretfully passed up.  We re-boarded our school bus (BC led the way in order to avoid the wheel wells) and wound our way back to the ship with our guide pointing out this and that interesting site.  Once back at the dock, we joined the throngs in the "Free Wireless" area of the Visitor Center that seems to have popped up at every port.  It was, by far, the most popular spot at the Center, easily beating out the jewelry, maple syrup, and wood carvings kiosks.

Our weather has been good--turtle necks and jackets are just right, and no umbrellas needed so far which is a good thing as I just remembered we forgot to bring ours.  Tomorrow will be a "Cruising Day" as we head toward Prince Edward Island.

DAY FOUR--ILE D'ORLEANS

Because my country boy has been trapped in the city for a few days, I thought it best that we join a ship excursion to the Ile d'Orleans this afternoon.  The island, located in the Saint Lawrence River, embraces its historic and rural past.  Since 1970, when the Ile was declared an historic area, most types of development have been kept safely on the mainland...and that's just the way they like it.

 

In all honesty, we're a bit skeptical about ship excursions, although we've scheduled a few for this cruise...mainly those that will let us see or experience something we couldn't do otherwise.  However, this primary (oh...in so many ways) colored sign dangling over our heads reminds us why we haven't cruised for a number of years.     

 

Shortly after everyone gathered under the sign and, actually turned to each other asking, "Is this where we're supposed to be?"  we were led to our buses and met our specific tour guide.  Ours actually lives on the Ile, so I think we have an expert.  We quickly drove out of Quebec City, crossed the Pont de I'lle d'Orleans, and found ourselves in the midst of lush forests just beginning to test their fall finery, interspersed with rich, dark farmland.  There are six small villages on the Ile, each of which, reportedly, has its own distinct personality.  Our first stop was St. Jean, originally populated by river pilots and navigators, who built their rather small, but charming homes with bricks brought back from Europe as ballast.

 

We'll be stopping at the Manoir Mauvide-Genest, built in 1734 as the home of Jean Mauvide who was surgeon to Louis XV although, frankly, if I understood our tour guide correctly, his medical training was a bit sketchy.  The home itself was lovely, obviously built in stages, and a definite point of pride for the Quebecoise. 

 

 

This couple were our guides at the Manoir.  She was very nice but speaking English was a definite struggle for her.  I finally woke up to the fact that until the 1930s (when the bridge was built between the mainland and the island) the Ile inhabitants could live a full and happy lifetime without ever venturing beyond their shores.  Our guides had grown up on the island, attended school here, and did it all in perfect French.    

 

 

After our tour of the Manoir, we climbed back into the bus and headed for the Sugar Shack where we would learn about the art of producing maple syrup.  We'd actually had that lesson in Vermont, but this was part of the excursion and it picked up quite a bit when we got to the tasting.

 

 

First, our maple syrup guide poured thin strips of maple syrup onto this crushed ice where it semi-hardened fast.

 

 

Next, BC began to roll up the syrup on a tongue depressor.  Being a retired vet, he handled the stick and maple syrup like a pro.

 

 

His was so good, we quickly rolled another. It made me think of a Sugar Daddy...my all time favorite candy at our local movie theatre back in the day.

 

 

 

The Sugar Shack was a mile or so from the main road hidden in a beautiful wooded area.  It was quiet, still and had that faintly damp feel of autumn.  Wonderful.

 

 

After we left the Sugar Shack we re-crossed the Pont and landed once again on the mainland for a view of the impressive Montmorency Falls.  But, first, we were ushered into the Montmorency Manoir located just next to the falls.  This pretty home once housed Prince Edward, the Duke of Kent, Queen Victoria's father.  Actually, before meeting Queen Victoria's mother, Prince Edward cozied up here with a young Quebec girl, reputedly gorgeous, named Alphonsine.  They co-habitated here from 1791 to 1794 producing (perhaps) an older brother to Queen Victoria.  Sweet Alphonsine was a Catholic, so even if they had married at some point it would not have been legal.  Thus, rumor has it that during her entire reign, Victoria sent money and other goodies to this older half brother to keep him both in Quebec and silent.

 

 

 

We enjoyed a spot of tea and this attractive little goodie. Please excuse the crumbs and, yes, it was very good.

 

 

Montmorency Falls...Actually they seem to have fallen out of the picture on the right hand side.  They are higher than Niagara Falls, but not nearly as wide. 

 

One can walk across the falls on a sturdy bridge (which we did) and look back at Prince Edward's hide-away, and the Quebec City skyline in the background.  Nothing is very far from anything else in this part of the world.

 

We've rushed back to the ship, nearly missed the emergency drill which doesn't require life jackets anymore, found a nearby bar, ordered our wine, and elbowed our way to the railing at the aft of the ship.  Good-bye Quebec City.

 

 Goodbye Montmorency Falls waaaay in the distance.

 

 

 

Goodbye Ile d'Orleans.  It was great to spend an afternoon with all of you.

 

 

 

 Well, Hello, Handsome! 

DAY THREE--QUEBEC CITY

They're an older group, these fellow travelers on the Eurodam.  I haven't met many yet, but sailing Holland America looks a little like sailing Sun City Grand or maybe Sun City West.  However, here, someone else will do the cooking, cleaning, and magically produce swans and monkeys out of bath towels.  Neither Sun City Grand nor Sun City West can boast those amenities...and they're good ones, trust me.  And, as we suggested yesterday, she is indeed a big 'un.

 

 

We haven't sailed for a few years and, in that time, security has become much more stringent.  We take off jackets. give up purses, cameras, briefcases, and walk through metal detectors which, for all their specialization, fail to realize I have a fake hip and BC has a fake knee.  Sometimes that happens at the airport too, but not often enough.

Some months ago, we decided that all of the passengers on this ship would eat the same food, enjoy the same entertainment and see the same sights on cruise days, so we would travel "Standard Interior."  "Standard Interior", as you have probably guessed is a euphemism for "smallest cabin ever", although Holland America is nice enough to scatter them throughout the ship so that, in our case, we're only a few doors from Deluxe and Superior Suites.  When the elevator dings for Floor Seven, we get off with the best of them.

Even BC, who prides himself on his frugality, felt a bit claustrophobic by the size (or lack thereof) of Cabin 7109.  And, as became habit, we quickly exited it and headed for shore.

 

Welcome to Place Royale in the Lower Town of Quebec City.  Long ago, this was Quebec's marketplace, and these buildings were homes to wealthy merchants.  Then, alas, it went into a decline until, around 1950, it was home to all sorts of unsavory characters.  Thus began the multi-million dollar transformation which has restored the entire area to its historic glory, appearance and beauty with a cornucopia of restaurants, art galleries and shops.  I loved it.

 

This is the official Place-Royale, meaning the square. However, since it leads directly to the rue de Petit-Champlain and other nearby tiny, twisty pedestrian streets, I'm guessing the entire area  may now go under that name.

 

It's a kitchen shop.  I always want to cook when I look in the window.  I waited awhile, but Van Gogh never came back for his sunflowers.

 

 

Note the funicular in the background.  That is coming down from yesterday's Terrasse Dufferin.  Even standing at the edge of the Terrasse looking straight down, is so steep you don't realize this lovely area is here.

 

 

There are people and pets everywhere with happy smiles and wagging tails.

 

 

 

These cute pieces of art hang everywhere.   Kind of like BC and me. 

 

 

This perfect little garden is just under the sheer cliff that ascends to the Upper Town.

 

 

Restaurants, shops, local musician on the left.  It all works together.  And, it doesn't seem to be all tourists...the locals hang here also.  You can tell...they're much more chic than we are and would never ever ever wear New Balance walking shoes.

 

 

Maybe it's the wonderful colors that make us smile.

 

 

Sometimes BC surprises even me.  I've learned that when he really enjoys an area, he will suggest that we stop, have a glass of wine and savor the moment.  He enjoyed Place-Royale.

 

 

 We're in the north and evening comes early.  We're back on the ship now (Ninth Floor Aft Deck) as the sun sets over Quebec City.  The Lower City is just in front of us with the Upper City standing over it.  Le Chateau Frontenac does indeed rise over all.   It's a beautiful ending to another beautiful day.