Hiddenhearth
Earning My Ears
- Joined
- May 16, 2001
Okay, where was I?
I was talking about snorkeling, I think. Before I gone on about the snorkeling at Castaway Cay, I thought I'd talk about the things I was grateful previous message-leavers put into my head.
Let's see, in no particular order.
Oh, the Avis rental car and the Radisson. Doing the car was so easy and cheap. $45 to the port. And the Radisson was lovely. Such a charming change of taste than our wintery New England. Dinner right there in the hotel, right after arrving. A good start to the vacation.
And there was the Magic out our hotel window the next morning!
Lots of vans (for lots of others who must have read the message boards as I...) in the morning, shuttling lots of excited travelers!
The cooler. All right, yes, we brought beer and wine. At a store down the road, I bought a collapsible cooler, two bottles of wine and two six-paks of beer, and brought them to the port as luggage. Did I feel gauche? A little. But, you know, Disney got so much money out of us for the week, I truly didn't feel like I cheated them. The bottles I never considered carrying up to Deck 9 (all the bare feet!...). After a couple of days I got into a routine that could become a past time, if I could find a way to live on the Magic 52 passages a year. Every morning I'd leave a bottle in the ice bucket in my room. Every time I returned to the room around mid-day, I'd discover that our steward had packed ice around the bottle. Then, in late afternoon, when wife and boys and parents and MIL were somewhere, who knows where about the ship, I'd steal to our cabin, crack open the ice-cold bottle, pour it into one of the glasses, and go out onto our verandah. There, with my shades on the nose and my feet on the table, I would stare out over the ocean, and watch the clouds over the horizon, and compare the blues of the sky and the blues in the water, and think about nothing, but maybe that heaven should be this good.
Everyone once in a while I'd see flying fish go tearing away from the ship. My kids would come to the rail to see one of these fish, and we'd wait, and wait, and I'd say, "I did see one. You just have to be patient," and they'd give up being patient and return to the TV or something, and then I'd see another flying fish, and this would go on and on. They never saw one.
Anyone still deciding about a verandah - oh, you're going this far - how many times in your life do you think you'll do this.
There was so much to do about ship, it was hard to stay in the cabin, so, as everyone says, likely no one stays in their cabin very much. Even so, the times I'd linger at the rail were well worth the extra cost.
Every morning I'd rise before the sun and before DW & DS & DS, and I'd sit huddled in my windbreaker, waiting for the sun.
Then at night, the reverse - with the family, that is. Kids out cold, wife long gone - and me - well, how could one not possibly check on the sea and the sky one last time in the day?
There's a light on each divider separating adjacent verandahs, a light on either end of the verandah, and these lights can be turned off. I'd do so, and then stand in the darkness - okay, well, mabye semi-darkness. I'd watch the clouds streaming across the moon. Occasionally there'd be lights from some land. Sometimes from a fishing boat. One night I could see the masthead lights of an oncoming ship far ahead. I watched it slowly get closer. The red light on the port side came into view, then the lights along the deck. This was a container ship, I could tell. I wondered, is this a ship I'd been on in New York Harbor, even? Whatever mate was on watch up there in the wheelhouse on our Magic, he changed course to the right, before this other ship was even two miles away.
I loved staring straight down over the rail. The waves and the foam running down the side of the Magic's hull. Twenty-three knots is really quite fast for a ship. If you were in a little boat down there, and the Magic went close by at this speed - it would seem to race by! To appreciate her speed, I'd fix my eyes on some foam up ahead, and follow this fixed spot as it faded quickly aft.
I could see the stablizing fin from our verandah. At the Navigators talk one day, the mate told his audience that each fin was 30 feet long and weighed - I don't remember - many tons. I knew about where it was, which had to have been close to our room, and I looked for it day and night. After several nights I finally spotted it nearly under our room. I had to concentrate my gaze to see it, but in the lights, every once in a while, I could. It's almost scary, looking like some beast down there!
Gosh, I'm rambling again. Someone has to stop me. I am sorry - I was only going to make brief comments. There were some things some of you wanted to know. The Surial Bath and things.
If anyone's still with me, I'll go on tomorrow. Steve.
I was talking about snorkeling, I think. Before I gone on about the snorkeling at Castaway Cay, I thought I'd talk about the things I was grateful previous message-leavers put into my head.
Let's see, in no particular order.
Oh, the Avis rental car and the Radisson. Doing the car was so easy and cheap. $45 to the port. And the Radisson was lovely. Such a charming change of taste than our wintery New England. Dinner right there in the hotel, right after arrving. A good start to the vacation.
And there was the Magic out our hotel window the next morning!
Lots of vans (for lots of others who must have read the message boards as I...) in the morning, shuttling lots of excited travelers!
The cooler. All right, yes, we brought beer and wine. At a store down the road, I bought a collapsible cooler, two bottles of wine and two six-paks of beer, and brought them to the port as luggage. Did I feel gauche? A little. But, you know, Disney got so much money out of us for the week, I truly didn't feel like I cheated them. The bottles I never considered carrying up to Deck 9 (all the bare feet!...). After a couple of days I got into a routine that could become a past time, if I could find a way to live on the Magic 52 passages a year. Every morning I'd leave a bottle in the ice bucket in my room. Every time I returned to the room around mid-day, I'd discover that our steward had packed ice around the bottle. Then, in late afternoon, when wife and boys and parents and MIL were somewhere, who knows where about the ship, I'd steal to our cabin, crack open the ice-cold bottle, pour it into one of the glasses, and go out onto our verandah. There, with my shades on the nose and my feet on the table, I would stare out over the ocean, and watch the clouds over the horizon, and compare the blues of the sky and the blues in the water, and think about nothing, but maybe that heaven should be this good.
Everyone once in a while I'd see flying fish go tearing away from the ship. My kids would come to the rail to see one of these fish, and we'd wait, and wait, and I'd say, "I did see one. You just have to be patient," and they'd give up being patient and return to the TV or something, and then I'd see another flying fish, and this would go on and on. They never saw one.
Anyone still deciding about a verandah - oh, you're going this far - how many times in your life do you think you'll do this.
There was so much to do about ship, it was hard to stay in the cabin, so, as everyone says, likely no one stays in their cabin very much. Even so, the times I'd linger at the rail were well worth the extra cost.
Every morning I'd rise before the sun and before DW & DS & DS, and I'd sit huddled in my windbreaker, waiting for the sun.
Then at night, the reverse - with the family, that is. Kids out cold, wife long gone - and me - well, how could one not possibly check on the sea and the sky one last time in the day?
There's a light on each divider separating adjacent verandahs, a light on either end of the verandah, and these lights can be turned off. I'd do so, and then stand in the darkness - okay, well, mabye semi-darkness. I'd watch the clouds streaming across the moon. Occasionally there'd be lights from some land. Sometimes from a fishing boat. One night I could see the masthead lights of an oncoming ship far ahead. I watched it slowly get closer. The red light on the port side came into view, then the lights along the deck. This was a container ship, I could tell. I wondered, is this a ship I'd been on in New York Harbor, even? Whatever mate was on watch up there in the wheelhouse on our Magic, he changed course to the right, before this other ship was even two miles away.
I loved staring straight down over the rail. The waves and the foam running down the side of the Magic's hull. Twenty-three knots is really quite fast for a ship. If you were in a little boat down there, and the Magic went close by at this speed - it would seem to race by! To appreciate her speed, I'd fix my eyes on some foam up ahead, and follow this fixed spot as it faded quickly aft.
I could see the stablizing fin from our verandah. At the Navigators talk one day, the mate told his audience that each fin was 30 feet long and weighed - I don't remember - many tons. I knew about where it was, which had to have been close to our room, and I looked for it day and night. After several nights I finally spotted it nearly under our room. I had to concentrate my gaze to see it, but in the lights, every once in a while, I could. It's almost scary, looking like some beast down there!
Gosh, I'm rambling again. Someone has to stop me. I am sorry - I was only going to make brief comments. There were some things some of you wanted to know. The Surial Bath and things.
If anyone's still with me, I'll go on tomorrow. Steve.
