Prepare yourself.
This is going to be some massive documentation of a trip that covered many firsts.
It was my first cruise.
My first experience with escargots and alligator.
My first comedy club.
My first time getting second-hand high (meaning our neighbors were going to
town and I got sick).
My first time seeing a hairy-chest competition.
My first time seeing an art auction.
My first time seeing nothing but ocean on the horizon.
My first time gaining sea-legs and my first time losing them.
And my fist time leaving my babies since I became a mother.
Now that last one was terrifying ... but thankfully, my almost-
entire family drove the 12 hours down to my home to whisk my children away for a weekend of bliss.
They didn't miss me one bit. Which made my weekend away fan-tastic.
It is a strange feeling to get out of a car without becoming a pack-horse. Where were the diaper bags? Wipies? Snacks? Where were my two little lovelies?
We walked right onto that boat without having to scan the ground for runaway one-year-olds. It was bizarre. In fact, I don't remember looking at the ground even once. I mostly remember scanning the faces of my fellow cruisers and wondering if we would all fit onto the life boats if by chance the events of "Titanic", "Unbroken", or "Life of Pi" were replayed on our voyage.
But don't worry, those thoughts were brief and only mildly terrifying. The thrill of a new adventure soaked up my attention.
Our tiny little room was everything I imagined it to be. And being the very first room -- U1 -- sounded special. While the boat was still, indeed it was.
Once we were moved in, our first stop -- naturally -- was the 24 hour buffet.
It was very Golden-Corral-meets-Vegasy-Little-Mermaid, but it was effortless and therefore awesome. Sandwiches and soft-serve ice cream became our cruise staples.
Oh and
then it was time to tour the boat.
The cloud cover prevented our sun bathing, but as "native" Californians, we had no issue with that. In fact, it was kind of nice to see something besides sunshine. We explored, exercised, watched Bingo, planned out the shows we would see the following day, and Mark watched a basketball game while I read on a lounge chair till I fell asleep. (Actually ... it was until the boat started moving and I became cross-eyed trying to read, and so decided to sleep it off.)
My favorite memory of that first day was just wandering ... no schedules, no plans. Mark and I walked and talked, and then split ways every now and then. He tried to scare me when he found me again. It felt so ... like we were without responsibility.
We arrived for our official dinner only to find that our friends had been seated elsewhere.
So we made new friends.
It was so fun to just talk to people. I was really enjoying having random conversations with so many strangers-made-friends by the fact that we were crammed on this boat in the middle of the ocean together.
But my friend-making began to hit the brakes. I could feel the non-stop smoke turning my voice box to shreds, but I ignored it. Unfortunately that combined with the rocking boat also made me feel cross-eyed, and we left dinner before dessert came around.
Outside felt much better, and because people were still at dinner we had a hot tub all to ourselves.
For about fifteen minutes.
We were then joined by two separate bachelor and bachelorette parties, and the stories swapped there made me think, "You know, I am really spending my twenties well. My life has not included much wasting time." There was no doubt we stood out in that crowd, and believe me ... there was a crowd. I was huddled on Mark's lap, and eventually he had enough of the elbows and feet and shoulders all around, so we excused ourselves.
My voice was spent.
The next morning, it was still gone. Turns out our room was the worst possible place to be for sea sickness, and the sea was rolling like mad. April showers, I guess. The lack of sleep did nothing to bring my voice back.
So we reunited with our friends ... only for me to become that silent, lame friend who just stares at everybody. Mark translated my whispers from time to time, but for the most part, I was a mute. It bothered me that I was missing out on this time to talk to my friends without our sweet babies to interrupt ... but it also excused me from having to try, and so I was able to just sit back and take in the third-world wonders of Ensenada, Mexico.
Our Spanish-speaking boys haggled their way around to find the
best possible deal for us gringos. No pulling the wool over our eyes, hombres.
It took a solid hour. But finally, we agreed. Four wheeling through Mexico.
We drove for nearly an hour through crowded streets and stretching farmland till we reached "La Bufadora", a neat little wonder provided by Mother Nature and exploited by the locals. Pressure built up in the rocks from wave after wave eventually exploded water into the air, resembling a massive sneeze. Therefore, "The Snorter".
The best food I ate on the entire trip was in this flea market. A bucket full of clams. Pried open, they were placed on the grill and stuffed with salsa, cheese, and spices. Mark and I scooped out the contents with a spoon ... it was heaven.
We took our time getting back, stopping for roadside tamales from a large, motherly abuelita in a ruffly blue apron. She shook her wooden spoon at us and understood my voiceless, whispered Spanish incredibly well. We saw shipwrecks, fishing boats, playing children, fruit farms, a dead horse, two dead seals, and hundreds of shells. Mark found a vertebrae to add to his office decor, and I took a turn racing the four-wheeler.
Now grubby and Mexican-filled, we hopped back on our boat just in time. Thankfully, we did not have to leave passport-less Mark in Mexico.
We found our new table at dinner this time, and Mark translated for me so I could join in on the conversation with Ryan, Lindy, Cortney, Bill, Meagan, and Will.
The girls took off for a wild Ladies' Night while the boys claimed a hot tub. We hit up the dance club. We watched Karaoke. We went back to the dance club ... and then my voicelessness had me defeated. I turned in to attempt to gain it back.
Our day at sea was the most blustery of them all, making mini golf impossible and our sweatshirts pathetic. So we watched Minute to Win It, the Newlywed Game, three Comedians, lots of gamblers and drunkards, a bit of an art auction, a bit of shopping, some ESPN, and of course multiple stops to the buffet. And then we played scum outside of the casino till dinner.
By the end of the day, my voice returned and I was able to join in for our last couple of responsibility-free hours.
As we left the ship, I was thrilled to hit dry land and get off of that rocking boat. My balance returned, my head stopped spinning, and I was completely happy.
I got time with my sweetheart. We were nothing but Mark and Allie, and I really like us. We are right now neck-deep in the work of family building, and it is an incredible adventure and taxing responsibility. I absolutely love it. And I absolutely loved a short, weekend-break from it.
Our return home was magic. The kids were thrilled to see us, but didn't hang. The squealed and hugged us and then went right back to playing with their grandparents, aunt, and uncle. Even our Mexican spoils didn't win them over.
 |
| A watch for me, a dress for Belle, a game for Mac, and vertebrae for Mark. |
Nana's spoils were much more exciting.
This definitely needs to happen again. Perhaps every two years? We'll start saving now ... but I have no need to do a cruise any time soon. If I'm going somewhere new, I want to feel good doing it.
Maybe Europe?
