Monday, May 29, 2017

Back in the Capital of the Free World


I had very low expectations for sleep last night.  Even though I had had very little, I often find it difficult to sleep when the time difference is so great.  This one is 9 hours.  I took a Benadryl and got into bed a little before 10 pm.

My sleep was fitful.  I woke up at 11 and then at 12, and finally at 2 am.  I’ve been getting over a cold and the congestion makes sleep difficult. I started thinking about this wonderful drug I could take when I was younger.  It was a very small red pill, the smallest pill I had ever seen and the first one I could successfully swallow.  It was called Pseudophedrine (marketed under the brand name Sudafed) and did a terrific job of drying up my sinuses (though I couldn’t take it before bed as it made me jumpy).  I used to wonder how people got through colds before it.  Now I know.

Several years ago, I went to the store to buy some and the new stuff didn’t work very well.  I compared labels and discovered that the new “Sudafed” didn’t actually contain pseudophedrine.  I went to the pharmacy and they explained that if I wanted the real stuff, they needed to check my driver’s license and record my purchase.  Eventually, I just gave up taking the stuff and learned to suffer through the congestion.

These were the thoughts going through my head at 2 am.  I also felt very warm in the room and opened a window.  About ten minutes later, two American women, in their 20s by the sound of their voices came home.  I think they’re staying in a neighboring pension that shares the same courtyard; their voices came from aways and above.  Even with my ear plugs in I could tell at least one of them was drunk.  Eventually, I took my earplugs out to figure out if she was crying or laughing.  It turned out to be both. I decided I’d rather be warm and quiet, than cool and noisy.

I took an Ambien to help me fall back asleep and for a while, I didn’t think it was working.  I put on my eye mask to block out morning light and tried and tried to fall asleep.  Next thing I knew I heard someone faintly knocking.  I figured it must be one of the neighboring rooms, but I glanced at my watch.  It was 10 am!  I had slept nearly eight hours after taking the Ambien and nearly twelve hours total.  Typically, Ambien knocks me out for only four hours.  This is probably the most I’ve slept in a night, ever.

I threw on my clothing and rushed to the lobby to ask if I as too late for breakfast.  Nearly all the tables were put away, as was all the food, but the clerk pointed out the one remaining place setting and said it was for me.  She brought me bread, butter, cheese, cold cuts, juice, and coffee, while I read the internet.  Seems that Berlin has now become the capital of the free world.  

After showering, I was ready to start the day, albeit rather late.  I started off at the drug store, where I got some cough drops and tissues, and the International New York Times.  Then it was off to Film Universität Potsdam to see what material they might have on Bruno Balz (none, it turned out), and the 1942 film, Die große Liebe (press clippings).   As I sat on the S-Bahn, I couldn’t help but notice how fit everyone was.  People walk or bike or take the subway everywhere.  It keeps you in shape.  I was also struck, as I always am, by the social intergration in Berlin.  I don’t just mean people of different races or ethnicities, but the way you can have the elderly and children, college students and parents with infants, all sharing the same subway car or sidewalk.  In America, we keep all those people in their own neighborhoods and communities, and you rarely see them together.

After Wannsee, we passed a section of garden plots.  These are for people who live in apartments in the city who want to grow fruits and vegetables. They often come with little tiny garden homes for them to sleep.  I first saw them in 2006 and I so wanted one.  I realized that I do have one: it’s my backyard garden.  Right now my fig tree is full of green, unripe figs; the pomegranate is full of red flowers; my apple tree is flowering late; and my lemon tree is full.  I squeezed and froze ten cups of lemon juice before I left town. 

My final addition are a group of tomato plants I grew from seed.  I read about this scientist in Florida who has figured out how to have tomato plants whose tomatoes actually taste like tomatoes.  For a $10 donation, he’ll send you some seeds. I bought them in February, but they took a while to arrive (not ‘til the end of March).  I planted all of them and five beefsteak and six cherry tomatoes sprouted and survived to be transplanted.  I kept two beefsteak tomatoes for myself and gave the rest away.  No one was interested in the cherries, so I ended up planning four of them. I’m hoping that at least one of my beefsteak tomatoes survives my trip so I can harvest one for its seeds.





The film university is located on the corner of Marlene Dietrich Allee and Emil Jannings Street (two huge stars of Weimar German movies).

 

 My visit to the film university’s library went well, and I received even better news when I checked my email:  the film archive has agreed to let me come on Friday to see what they have about Die große Liebe.  With such good news, I decided to celebrate.  I headed up to West Berlin and went to KaDeWe, to the most expensive cafeteria in Germany, to check out their pastry display:

 

 In the end, I chose the Baiser Kuchen mit Rhabarb, Erdbeeren, und Marzipan (in the second photo, look for the one right in the middle).  For those of you who don’t speak German, that means a pie, filled with a layer of marzipan, strawberry filling with rhubarb, and topped with meringue.  Technically, no whipped cream, so I’m breaking my diet by not having a whipped cream dessert today, but I think this counts.  It was very good.  Not too sweet, either. 


I didn’t head directly home, but rather to Unter den Linden in order to check out what is showing this week at the Komische Oper and the Staatsoper.  Turns out I’m going to be hearing a lot of Berlioz.  On Thursday, I see The Damnation of Faust and on Friday, it’s Carmen. 

The students arrive on Saturday, and my plan is to take them to I Due Forni, a pizzeria, in Prenzlauer Berg.  I wanted to check it out again and photograph the menu.  I got my usual:  the Diavolo Pizza (without olives) and a “kleine Bier.”  Heinrich Heine quipped in the early 19th century that the Jewish contribution to German politics was the “kleine Bier” (a “little” beer).  



Tomorrow I go to the Bundesarchive in Lichterfeld, so I’ll be back on the S1 towards Wannsee.  I will actually set an alarm (only for 9 am) in case I oversleep again.  If I finish early, I’ll visit the German Historical Museum on Unter den Linden, since I’ve never been through the entire core exhibition.

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Back to Berlin

The travel day east always hits me hard. It's one of the reasons I head over before the students: so I can be fully rested by the time they arrive.

Thank God, but I didn't fly "screaming baby airlines." l had high hopes for a good night sleep, but as I tried to drift off, I realized that behind me were two American girls in their mid-twenties who really wanted to gossip about a friend of there's. While all the lights were turned down and everyone else was trying to sleep, they happily yakked and yakked. What made it particularly annoying is that I couldn't make out what they were saying, only that they were saying it.

Eventually I put on the headphones and started looking for some music that could serve as white noise. All the meditation stuff started with a calm voice in German telling me to relax. I didn't find that relaxing. Eventually I found something soothing when my neighbor decided to read his novel. I put on my eye patch.

I had finally drifted off to sleep when I felt someone poke me. I realized it was my neighbor: his girlfriend needed to pee. Sigh.
 
The two girls behind me were still going strong. I managed to fall back asleep, and I think I might have gotten 3 hours of sleep altogether.

Frankfurt Airport really hasn't changed since I was here last year. It's still better than most American airports, though it's also rather charm free.

Berlin Airport is better. Not because it's newer; it clearly shows its age. I just love the fact that the baggage claim is right at the gate and that customs is just beyond that. In five minutes, I went from the plane to the terminal.

I seem to have arrived at the tail end of a heat wave. Yesterday it was 42, today the high was 36, and tomorrow the high will be 29. More like it.

Had no trouble finding my pension; I've been staying here since 2006. Sasha was behind the counter and commented that I haven't been here for a while (not since 2013). The rooms look just the same.
 
 
I went for a walk before dinner to try to acclimate to the new time zone. The neighborhood really hasn't changed that much. Part of it is extremely gentrified and part of it is resisting gentrification with all its soul. 
 

 
It was a very hot day, so I guess they felt it was time to add an awning.

For dinner, I went to Zum Schusternjungern about 10 blocks away. It was a good walk to and from, and helped burn off the beer, cream of asparagus soup, and the huge piece of schnitzel I had. They had their "Spargel Menu" up. Their menu basically screams "DDR."
 

 
Now it's off to bed to try to recoup some of the sleep I lost.

Monday, August 15, 2016

Matt's Birthday

We started the day by visiting the Grammy Museum in downtown L.A.

A way of tracing out the connections among musical genres

Drum lesson with Ringo Starr

The annual Tanabata Festival in Little Tokyo.

Performers at the festival

Lunch at the Suehiro Cafe in Little Tokyo


Cosplayers (costume players) in Little Tokyo

After lunch we went to the Museum of Neon Art in Glendale.

From Fox Theater in LA

A southland fixture 

The angelic flying deceased hot dog dog 

 The other angelic flying deceased hot dog dog 

Background on the angelic flying deceased hot dog dogs




The Vintage Arcade Games warehouse was closed, so we went to the Soap Plant WAKCO in Los Feliz.  They sell (relatively) inexpensive art with "street cred" to twenty and thirtysomething hipsters.



Dinner was at Toi Thai on Sunset.



We killed sometime across the street at Meltdown Comics where I saw this statue created by an artist famous for working in filmed animation.  After getting food poisoning from eating at Big Boy's, he created this "artistic revenge."


Last stop of the evening:  the Groundlings Theater on Melrose in Hollywood.


Saturday, July 30, 2016

Our Final Sea Day


Finally, on our last day at sea, we had beautiful weather.  It was actually sunny for almost the entire day.  Even now, as the sun has almost set, there are only a few wispy clouds in the sky.

I used the opportunity to explore the entire ship, including some outside areas that were either closed off or too unpleasant to visit in the bad weather.  So, for those interested, here’s a detailed description of Holland America’s ms. Zaandam.  We’ll work our way from the bottom to the top, and from fore to aft.

Deck 1 is the lowest deck passengers can regularly visit (sometimes Deck A is used for tenders or a gangway).  It’s called the Dolphin Deck since, I assume, you’re basically sleeping with the fishes.  Deck 2, where our stateroom is located is called the Main Deck.  Why?  No idea.  As far as I can tell, both decks only have staterooms.

Deck 3 is where the ship begins to get interesting.  This is the Lower Promenade, and is where I spent a lot of time since it’s the only deck where you can 1) walk around the perimeter of the entire ship; 2) get views of the scenery, port, after, and starboard without glass; and 3) is sheltered from the elements by a roof.  This deck also has the self-service laundry ($3.00 – in quarters – for a wash; $1.50 to dry), and the lifeboat stations.  One lap of the outdoor promenade is a quarter mile, so I did 12 laps or 3 miles of walking this afternoon.  I wouldn’t recommend staying the cabins on the Lower Promenade, since your cabin looks out on the people walking on the deck, and only beyond that the water.  When people leave their curtains open, it’s very easy to see into their cabins when the sky is dark or overcast.

Deck 4 is the Promenade.  In the front of the ship is the bow, which is open when viewing glaciers, etc.  Next is the main level of the Mondriaan Theater, where the comedians, magicians, dancers, and singers perform.  Moving aft we have the photo gallery where all the pictures taken by the various photographers employed by the cruise line display the photos they’ve shot of you in the hope you’ll buy them.  In the Atrium (more on that below), is the Front Office.  This is where you can ask to have your toilet unplugged, get change for the laundry, check out DVDs, or deal with issues regarding your bill.  There’s also an office that offers to sell shore excursions and across from it is the art gallery, selling high-brow kitsch, like Thomas Kinkade. 

A little further down is the theater, where they do the cooking show, and across from it is the Pinnacle Grill, which is the premium dining spot on the ship.  Between the midship and aft elevators, there is no passage.  This is the ship’s kitchen.  To get to the main level of the Rotterdam Restaurant, which is the ship’s main sit-down dining room, you need to go up or down one level to access it through the aft staircase or elevator.

Deck 5 is the Upper Promenade.  I’ve probably spent more time here than on any deck other than my cabin.  In the fore is the upper level of the Mondriaan Theater.  A midships there is the casino on one side and the Mix bar on the other.  Moving aft is the library, where I’ve spent a lot of time reading books or the New York Times, and on the other side is the lounge where they play classical music in the evenings.  Finally, in the aft of the deck is the upper level of the Rotterdam dining room.

Deck 6 is the Verandah Deck, which is only cabins.  Deck 7 is the Navigation Deck, which has large cabins (mostly suites from what little I could see), and also the Neptune Lounge.  There’s a sign on the lounge saying that it’s only for guests of the Pinnacle Grill and the Neptune Lounge.  I’m guessing that if I don’t already know that I can visit it, it’s off limits.  It’s actually located in the interior, with windows on either side facing the main corridors.  It kind of resembles a first class airport lounge.

Deck 8 is the Lido Deck.  At the fore of the ship is the health club, with treadmills facing out over the view of the ocean. Behind them is the spa, which I did not visit.  I thought if I was going to walk on a treadmill, it would be more interesting to be outdoors in the fresh air, so I did my walking on the outer promenade on Deck 3.  A midships are the hot tubs and the main pool.  For most of the trip, the roof remained covered as the weather was so unpleasant, but today, the retracted it, allowing us to enjoy the fresh air and sunshine.  There’s also an outdoor buffet with fast food style items (e.g., hamburgers, hotdogs, tacos, nachos, etc.).  Today they also had a special salmon grill buffet next to the pool, which I rather enjoyed.

Beyond that is the Lido Buffet, which dad prefers for lunch and dinner.  While the two sides are mostly the same, there are some differences (e.g., the port side has the Belgian waffles and the design your own past sauce; the starboard side has the taste of Asia lunch selection).  In the far aft is the Sea View pool, which I saw for the first time today. 

Above all this is Deck 9, the Sports Deck.  In the fore of the ship is the Crow’s Nest bar, with large floor to ceiling windows on three sides.  Behind that there’s an exterior walkway that overlooks the pool (when the roof is retracted). There are small tennis courts, I think, on either side and then in the back is something called “The Loft” (I have no idea what that is), and Club HAL, which is basically the child care center on the ship.

You can climb up stairs both fore and aft.  In the front, you’re basically standing on top of the Crow’s Nest.  Aft, there is a recreation area called “the Oasis” with fake, tropical stone décor, but there was also a sign saying “Crew Only.”  So either this is just for crew, or, more likely, it’s only open in warm weather.

To move between floors, there are three banks of elevators:  fore, midships, and aft.  On the floor of each elevator is a carpet that helpfully announces the day of the week (they must be changed every night).  Next to the elevators are stairs running up and down.  Each stairway is decorated differently. The fore staircase has paintings of historical Dutch-flagged ships of the early twentieth century; the midships staircase has scientific drawings of various flora; and the aft staircase has reproductions of Escher etchings.

Between the fore and midships elevators is the Atrium. This can be found on the Decks 3, 4, and 5.  A half-circular staircase runs down each level on the port side and the middle of the Atrium is a three-story pipe organ, decorated in baroque fashion. They actually played it for a few minutes today, but I was doing my stroll on the outer promenade.

Last night was the first night I went to bed before dad.  He decided to visit the casino after the classical concert; he told me this morning that the other poker players weren’t very good. 

“Why?” I asked.
“They stayed in when they should’ve gotten out, and got out when they should’ve stayed in.”
“Didn’t that mean that you won money?”
“Yes.” 

We had to change our clocks last night, since we left the Alaska Time Zone and joined the Pacific.  Beyond that we didn’t do all that much today.  The chef class was ok. The hostess keeps saying that sea salt is preferable to other kinds because it has less sodium, which makes no sense whatsoever.  I went to the premium wine tasting this afternoon, which I really enjoyed, and after that went for a long walk on the lower promenade.  Then I met my father for our last dinner in the Rotterdam Dining Room.

Joy, Morris, and Dorothy were already there; Dick is fasting today.  We all enjoyed the meal and the conversation, and we talked for nearly two hours.  Eventually we had to leave so they could set up for the next sitting.  I also wanted to walk on the outer deck with dad at least once today so he could see the beautiful scenery of Vancouver Island, which we’ve been passing all afternoon.  After a short walk we went back in and found seats for the final show of the trip.  This involved bringing back both the comedian and the magician.  I think dad enjoyed the comedian more again. 

After the show, dad went to the casino; I walked around the deck one last time watching the sunset, then went into the cabin to put the luggage tags on our suitcases.  Dad’s already packed; I’m 90% packed. Our suitcases need to be out by midnight.  We have a relatively late departure from the ship after we dock in Vancouver (between 8:15 and 8:30 am), so we will grab a quick breakfast in the morning. 

Friday, July 29, 2016

Ketchikan


Today we actually had periods of sun. In fact, for much of today I was able to wear my sunglasses.  After breakfast, dad snoozed in the library while I read.  At 11 am, we joined the long queues of people trying to leave the ship when they opened the gangway.  My plan was to go to Creek Street to see the salmon swimming upstream.  First, though, we needed to find the town’s free shuttle bus.

15 minutes later, we joined the hordes of ship’s passengers unwilling to walk and headed off for the center of town.  I chatted with a family on their way back to the Norwegian Pearl, moored one berth over. Having heard such negative stories about Norwegian Cruise Lines, I asked how they liked their ship.  The father said that the food and the service were very disappointing.   His 8-year old daughter piped up, “but I like the food.”  I asked her if she was eating the pizza and she looked at me as if I could read her mind.  The grandmother added that the she thought the food on Carnival and Disney was much better.  I thought the food on Carnival was at best so-so, which didn’t say much for NCL.

We got off near Creek Street and made our way to it.  This part of Ketchikan basically has been restored/built to resemble the town of a 100 years ago.  The two-story wooden houses are perched over the stream, through which salmon are making their way home to spawn.  When we reached Dolly Arthur’s House (which is also a historic dolly house, now a museum), dad recognized that he had been on Creek St. with mom on an earlier visit.  He also recognized the funicular, though to my disappointment, they seemed to be repairing something and it was temporarily disabled.

Looking into the stream we were able to spot several large salmon making their way upstream (along with a few dead ones).  I have to say the salmon didn’t look like they were trying all that hard.  Mostly they were hanging out in the eddies and coves, hoping that the high tide would carry them all the way upstream.  Every now and then one or two would swim against the current, and then regroup back in a little cove.  I have to say that salmon don't look like imagined them.  These were dark grey or blackish with whitish tails.  No pink or red to be seen.  They were about a yard long, too (or at least they looked that size from our distance).

Because I had a 1:05 pm excursion, that didn’t leave us much time.  We headed back to the ship for lunch.  At first, dad wanted to take the shuttle bus back, but I wasn’t sure where to catch it so we walked.  It only took about 20 minutes to reach the ship, and dad said that the probably needed the exercise and it might do him good, but at the same time, it was more than he had walked in much of the trip.

After lunch on the Lido, I headed back outside and met my excursion.  I was heading to some place called the Misty Fjords National Monument.  We sailed for about 30 minutes south from Ketchikan.  We learned that in 8th grade, high school students are dropped in pairs on deserted islands where they have three days to show they’ve mastered all the survival skills they’ve learned. 

The Fjords were formed during the last ice ages, when large glaciers scooped out incredibly deep valleys.  The main channel through which we were moving is over 1800 feet deep (below the water).  Above the water, the visible mountains were thickly covered in green forest of pine and spruce.  Although the sky was somewhat cloudy by now, I could still see patches of blue sky and I could imagine that here was a green world untouched by global warming and pollution.   I could spot a few dead trees among the green and asked the naturalist if they had problems with parasites.  No, she said; they were doing their best to keep out some pest spreading across Canada.  The reason for the dead trees was that their roots were really shallow.  The glaciers removed all the topsoil, and only a few feet had reformed in the last 10-12,000 years.  The trees’ roots spread widely, but could only go down a few feet, which made them vulnerable to intense weather.

As we reached the entrance to the national monument we passed New Eddystone Rock.  Named after a lighthouse in Britain that Captain Vancouver thought it resembled, it’s actually the plug of a dormant volcano, whose cone above sea level has eroded and mostly disappeared, leaving only a sand spit inhabited by harbor seals and some trees where bald eagles nest.

As we turned into the Misty Fjords monument, the sea level rose to only a 1000 feet deep, but the walls of the valley were themselves 1000-2000 feet high, with glacier-polished stone, marked only by the occasional spruce tree.  The shore (above the high-water mark) was heavily forested.  Overhead there were gulls and terns.  I asked the naturalist which were which.  “The gulls are the boring looking ones; the terns are interesting.” 

By now, the skies had mostly clouded over, and we were having bouts of light drizzle intermixed with some sunlight, so the fjords were living up to their name.  The best way I can describe them is to imagine Yosemite Valley, half flooded by seawater.   While it did have a few waterfalls, these were much smaller than Yosemite’s but one was quite beautiful.

The end of our sea journey was a small wooden dock.  Here we boarded our float planes that were landing, dropping off the passengers who would sail back on our boat.  One guide book this morning said that so many float planes land in Misty Fjords, it can resemble Omaha Beach on D-Day, but that was a bit of an exaggeration.  We had been given different colored cards at the beginning, and this determined which plane we flew back in.  I had a blue card, so I flew back in a 1952 de Havilland propeller plane.  Since I was the first, the pilot asked if I would like to sit up front, so I said sure. 

This was a mixed blessing.  On the one hand, I had the best view on the plane: 180 degrees.  On the other hand, it was hard to photograph most of it, because although the propeller rotated too fast to be seen as more than a blur, it did show up when I took a picture.  We buckled up and put on protective headphones to mask the (literally) deafening roar of the motor.  In now time at all we had taken off and were flying over first the fjords and then the forested interior. While the sea journey had taken nearly three hours, we flew back in less to Ketchikan in only thirty minutes.  I expected to more scared than I turned out to be, even with the water landing (which is a bit rougher than landing on a tarmac).

I met dad for dinner and we headed back to the Pinnacle Grill for the last time this voyage.  We both started with the jumbo shrimp cocktail, but afterwards our choices completely diverged.  Dad had the Caesar salad and the west coast cioppino, while I ordered the lobster bisque and the 12 oz lobster tail (steamed).  For dessert, dad had the fresh berries with sabayon, while I had the lemon brulee tart with blueberry whipped cream.  I asked first what it was and the maître d’ explained it was like a key lime pie, except with lemon and had a brulee crust that you would find on a crème brulee.  It was quite good.

Now we are listening to the classical performance and tomorrow we have a sea day while cruising the Inner Passage to Vancouver.  The forecast is for partially sunny, so I might even swim in the afternoon. 

Thursday, July 28, 2016

The Return of the Sun


As I was leaving the lounge last night I asked the violinist if he knew Gloomy Sunday, an infamous Hungarian song from the 1930s (it was banned by the BBC), famously covered by Billie Holiday just before WWII.  He happily played some bars and volunteered to play it for dad and I tonight.  Currently he’s playing Eidelweiss as I type this but I’m pretty sure I’ll hear it before the end of the concert.

Today’s forecast was for a “chance of rain,” and it certainly lived up to that in the first few hours of the day in Juneau.  After reading the New York Times coverage of the DNC, I headed ashore to explore the capital of Alaska.  I found a café with internet, but while their internet service was excellent, you only got 15 minutes for every item you bought (and I was only willing to buy a coffee).  I used that time to upload most of the photos I took yesterday and even had some time left over to check out some reviews of the convention (everyone seems to have loved President Obama’s speech – including some surprisingly positive reviews at the National Review). 

I strolled through the town thinking how the weather was improving – just a few light sprinkles – when the heavens opened up and really rained.  I found the nineteenth-century Russian Orthodox church and some fun murals around town.  I would have visited the library for its free internet but it doesn’t open until 11.  Instead, I went to the Mt. Roberts Arial Tram.  This was an act of faith on my part, since the top of Mt. Roberts, 2000 feet up, was totally obscured by clouds and mist.

At the top, there was almost nothing to see, but I used their free internet for a while before wandering over to see their bald eagle (it was severely injured when rescued – someone had shot it - and it is unable to see well enough to hunt, so they feed it).  Suddenly, I noticed that I was able to see things beyond the walls of the structure:  the sun was struggling to emerge.  I could see much of Juneau and the channel, Douglas Island, and the Inner Passage.

I chatted with one of the tram workers who told me that they’ve named the glowing ball of fire in the sky “Bob.”  They don’t see Bob all that often, but whenever he shows up, the town disappears as everyone runs to kayak or hike or do something outdoors. 

It cleared up enough that I went for a hike up to the top of the mountain.  Along the way, I had wonderful views of a cloud enshrouded Gold Gulch, with think waterfalls cascading down its steep green slopes.  The trail was a little muddy, but lined with dark bluish purple flowers, as well as some pink fireweed, and even the rare wild raspberry.  At the top, there was a family of Spruce Grouse – three chicks and a mama keeping watch. 

Since my excursion left at 1, around noon I headed back to the ship for a quick, light lunch.  Dad was waivering about going on the Salmon Bake excursion, since we had a big dinner planned for later.  He was going to go, but not eat anything.  My excursion was a whale watching ride.  It turned out to be fantastic.  With so much sunlight, I dropped off my scarf and umbrella in the cabin and grabbed something I hadn’t used since I left California:  my sunglasses.

On the drive out, we passed many, many bald eagles and later the Mendenhall Glacier.  On the boat, I went up to the top deck to enjoy the sunlight.  We had some great views of the upper Mendenhall Glacier and later the Eagle Glacier.  We passed a small island exposed by the low tide with lots of birds, some harbor seals, and one majestic bald eagle surveying the whole scene from the high point.

After that we went in search of humpback whales.  We spotted a blow from a whale, but it was behind us.  I spotted one off to our left and it turned out to be a mother humpback whale, its calf, and a guardian.  After following them for a while, we were amazed and delighted when the calf decided to breach.  This is something that adult males usually do when they are competing for dominance, but here the calf appears to have just been playing.  I did get a great shot of it breaching, though.  Then the mother waved her fluke at us and we moved on.

The next group of humpback whales we saw were all adults.  There were between 8 and 10 and they were doing something that they have learned how to do:  bubble net fishing. The lead whale dives down to a shoal of fish and corrals them, using the bubbles from her blowhole to keep them together.  Finally, when all the fish are at the surface, the whales come up beneath them, open their mouths, and feed above water – a rare sight indeed.  This only happens about six weeks a year in this part of Alaska, and, as far as I know, nowhere else in the world.

We watched them do this three times over the course of thirty minutes.  As we prepared to go, two of the adult whales breached, and then another whale used his tale to slap the surface of the water well over a dozen times.  I joked he had the whale equivalent of OCD. 

We were supposed to be back on the ship by 5 pm, but there was no way our excursion was going to be back in time.  We only disembarked from the whale watching ship at 4:45, and it was a half hour drive back to the Zaandam.  Still with two buses of ship passengers, and the fact we were on an official excursion organized by the cruise line, I was pretty confident they wouldn’t sale away without us.  We had no problems. They didn’t leave until 6.

I got back to the cabin to find dad watching the Democratic Convention.  We had reservations for the Pinnacle Grill tonight, which transformed into “Le Cirque.”  The meal was excellent.  We both started with the lobster salad – chilled, poached lobster tail over bib lettuce with tomatoes, avocado, and red pepper dressing. Then there was the English pea soup, served luke warm with a parmesan crouton.  I ordered a glass of the Italian chardonnay to accompany it, since I was pretty sure it wasn’t oaked (which it wasn’t).

For main courses, dad and I diverged.  He ordered the rack of lamb, I had the chateaubriand.  This was beef tenderloin cooked medium rare, with a very nice accompanying sauce, sweet and sour roast beets, and a horseradish flan.  I asked for a glass of the merlot to accompany,  I loved everything except the flan, which wasn’t too sharp for horseradish, but was just a little too odd for my tastes.

I ordered the chocolate soufflé for dessert.  Dad asked if they could make it without chocolate, but they said that wasn’t possible.  He had the crème brulee instead.  Both were excellent.

Afterwards, we went to the theater to see this evening’s show:  the comedic magician.  We ended up sitting near two of our dinner table mates:  Joy and Morris.  They told us tonight was surf and turf.  I asked how the lobster was, but it apparently wasn’t that big (though you could order more than one).  Dad thought the magician’s comedy was better than his magic (I thought both were just ok, still, he knew his audience).  Afterwards we went to hear the classical musicians.

And yes, they did play Gloomy Sunday while I was writing this up. 

Tomorrow is our last port of call:  Ketchikan.  The forecast is “cloudy.”  I’m interpreting that to mean there’s a chance of rain.

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

A Rainy Day in Haines


With no excursions in the morning or fears about a stopped-up toilet, I slept until after 7 am (over 8 hours).  Dad, however, had a morning excursion on a bus where he would drive through a bald eagle preserve.  After a quick breakfast, I made sure he had his passport, umbrella, and coat, and then I walked him to his bus on shore.

While the forecast was for “a chance of rain,” in reality that chance was 100%.  The weather today varied from light drizzle, to light rain, to heavy rain.  For most of the day, the town of Haines was surrounded by clouds and mist.  After I saw dad safely off, I headed into town to find the free wifi.  The Rusty Compass Café on Main St. had sort of free wifi (you needed to buy $5 of food or drink).  I was hoping for a café au lait, but their espresso machine was in for repairs and they couldn’t steam milk.  They could, however, mix hot milk with coffee and that was good enough for me.  To bring it up to $5, I bought a blueberry scone, but this turned out to be hard as a rock.  The guy who served the people after me suggested having it heated in the microwave, but my server didn’t bother.

It turns out that the population of Haines nearly doubles every Wednesday when the cruise ships dock.  At that point, the streets fill up and the cafes are full of people looking for wifi.  Unfortunately, the town has only one cell tower, which means we’re all fighting over the same bandwidth.  The result was that while I could check email relatively quickly, if I wanted to post photos (and I had a lot of photos to post for the last three days), then I had to wait my turn.  What that meant was that for about two minutes out of every fifteen, I had a clear signal and could upload a batch of photos.  Then I had to wait another fifteen minutes while it tried to find a signal.

After an hour I had enough and decided to try to the public library.  Unfortunately, the situation there was even worse, even though I didn’t think that was possible.  Eventually, after two hours of frustration, I caught up and headed back to the ship for lunch.  I went back to the Lido Buffet and the design your own pasta sauce.  This time I decided to customize the Bolognese, but when the chef asked if I wanted the marinara, I said “no, the Bolognese,” he replied “the marinara?”  Again I said, “no, the Bolognese.”  I had to repeat later too.  Apparently, he didn’t want people having the Bolognese.

I went back to the room to read before my excursion and the toilet jammed again.  Before I could go to the Front Office dad came back, so I warned him not to use it.  Thankfully, they had it fixed in less than a half an hour.  I asked dad about his excursion.  “I saw trees,” he said.

“Did you see eagles?”
“I saw trees.”
“Did anyone else see eagles?”
“Maybe.”

My afternoon excursion was called “Glacier Point Wilderness Safari.”  It left at 3:15 and was over five hours, which was a little worrying since the ship was going to leave port at 8:30, but we were assured we would be back in time.  There were 24 of us in a small, little enclosed boat that skipped over the waves for about 30 minutes as we sailed to the next fjord where we beached on the sand.  There we had a turkey sandwich and then transferred to a school bus for a short ride to a staging area.

Because it was raining (between light and heavy), we changed into the water proof clothing.  We each got olive-green waterproof overalls, an olive-green waterproof jacket, and heavy black rubber galoshes that came up to below the knee.  The hood of the jacket obscured my vision, but then I put my cap on and the brim kept it out of my eyes.  To complete the outfit, we all put on reddish orange life vests and then started our short walk through the dark, dank woods (it’s a temperate rain forest). 

If you were wondering why we needed life preservers for a woodland hike, it became clear when we reached the canoes.  It was particularly important not to fall into the water, since its temperature was one degree above freezing; the river was fed by glacial melt.  After five minutes in the water, hypothermia would set in. 

We had oars in each canoe, and we did paddle for a bit, but once we were deep water, our guide turned on the four horsepower on board engine.  The closer we approached the Davidson Glacier, the colder the air became.  There was a strong, cold wind coming off the glacier, so I wrapped the hood around my head. 

When we reached the shore, we had a “wet landing,” and then began our walk across the glacial moraine to the ice.  The Davidson Glacier has a pronounced blue tint, made more intense by the overcast weather.  The ice isn’t actually blue; it’s so dense that the only light that isn’t absorbed is blue, making it appear that color. If you melt it, though, the water is clear. 

We didn’t see any of the bears or moose or wolves who live in the area, but we did see several small white arctic terns.  These birds have little orange beaks and commute 30,000 miles a year, flying between the Arctic and the Antarctic.  The average tern flies over 600,000 over the course of its life.

They didn’t let us walk up to the main part of the glacier lest it calve on top of us.  We could go up and touch the side of the glacier where it sloped up.  I walked up on top of a little of it.  If you want to know what a glacier feels like, go to your freezer, open up the ice box and put your hand on a piece of ice.  The only difference in the glacier is that it’s a whole wall of it.

The blue color was really intense, and there were small waterfalls erupting out of the ice as well as the main river emerging out from under it.  Even the rocks on which we were walking were likely concealing glacial ice beneath them. There were a few “kettles” or small ponds of melted ice among the gravel.

Eventually we had to return and make our way back to the ship.  Thankfully, we arrived a little before 8 pm.  I went to the cabin and found dad.  He warned me not to use the toilet as it had clogged yet again.  I went up to dinner on the Lido deck and dad joined me.  Afterwards, he went to listen to classical music while I went back to the cabin to pick up my laptop and check to make sure the toilet was fixed (it was).

As I’ve been typing this, the musicians surprised me by playing an excerpt of Ennio Morricone’s (I’m sure I’ve misspelled that name) score from Once Upon a Time in the West, and they were surprised I knew it.  They just wrapped up their set by playing Katchitourian’s (another name I’m sure I’m misspelling) Sabre Dance.

Tomorrow we’ll be in Juneau, where I’m signed up for whale watching.  It’s supposed to be the best place to whale watch in the state.  The forecast?  “Chance of rain.”