In our case, the ecstasy part of the idyll had to wait until MG and I endured the agony part, namely United Flight 310 to LA. United Airlines boasts the following amenities. It charges you for both checked luggage and carry-ons. Its seats have no leg room of which to speak unless you’re four feet six inches tall or shorter. Its seats are scarce on width unless you have buns the size of an anorexic runway model’s. Don’t board hungry and thirsty. UA will only provide you with a tiny package of mini pretzels (unless you’re willing to purchase an overpriced snack), and a non-alcoholic beverage in a tiny cup. So far, I wasn’t thrilled with the trip decision. Thank you, friendly skies. Not really.
After arriving at LAX, our traveling companions, MG, and I traipsed through the airport in search of a quick breakfast before our connecting flight to Tahiti. Only in LA will you find a champagne and caviar bar in an airport concourse, but you will have trouble finding an inexpensive breakfast.
We then followed an endless array of signs directing us to our departure gate. Naturally, our departure gate was at the far reaches of the airport— in another building. We had to board a shuttle bus to reach it, a fifteen minute ride.
At last, we reached the gate and boarded our eight and a half hour Air Tahiti Nui flight. It was as if we entered a portal into a fantasy world. The flight attendants wore colorful native dress and they appeared genuinely happy to see us. The jet’s interior was colorful and welcoming as well. MG and I were permitted to sit together without paying an up charge. We each received a pillow, a blanket, and a goody bag containing ear plugs, a sleep mask, socks, and audio ear buds. The movies, TV shows, video games, magazines, and music on our individual monitors were free of charge!
As soon as we reached cruising altitude, we were served beverages and a hot lunch—a delicious hot lunch for which we were not required to pay. Wine was served free of charge as well. Snacks and beverages during the flight were available any time we wanted them. An hour before landing a complementary breakfast was served.
What fresh hell was this? Perhaps it was an elaborate prank. Surely none of it was real because our tickets were clearly marked economy class.
At the airport in Papeete, Tahiti, the flight attendants guided us to the arrivals entrance. While in line to go through security, we were entertained by a native band. Welcome to French Polynesia!
Following transfer from the airport to our cruise ship, Holland America Line’s MS Maasdam, we boarded just in time for dinner, the first of many sumptuous meals on board. We stayed overnight in Papeete on Sunday.
At 2:00 pm on Monday, we were marshaled for the Mandatory Passenger Emergency Muster Drill—roughly twelve hundred perspiring bodies crammed together in the heat and humidity on the Lower Promenade Deck. Guests who refused to participate would not be permitted to sail with the vessel. Oh joy.
Finally, we sailed for our first port of call, scheduled to arrive on Tuesday. While at sea on Monday, we were treated to the first of many informative Port Talks on the islands we were to visit. We learned that most ports did not have docking facilities for large ships. Passengers would necessarily be shuttled to shore and back via the Maasdam’s tenders. Of course, this process could be subject to change depending on local conditions. Lovely.
Hiva Oa, our first port of call, fell under the category of adverse local conditions. Large ocean swells made it impossible to board the tenders safely. Instead we had another day at sea with an alternative shipboard activity schedule. Not an auspicious beginning. ::sigh::
Fortunately, we were able to use the tenders safely enough at our next island port, Nuku Hiva in The Marquesas. When we debarked from the tender, we were greeted by three women in traditional island garb singing a welcome accompanied by a group of men on drums. I shot a bit of video of them with my iPhone8Plus. This was more like it. Things were looking up. Yay!
We spent another day at sea that also turned out to be our first gala dinner night. In other words, we had to wear our fancy duds instead of our smart casual rags. We survived it.
Rangiroa, an atoll, was up next. We took a tour of a black pearl farm there. We learned the process of producing those exotic and coveted Polynesian ($$$$$) cultured pearls. We observed a technician remove pearls from harvested oysters and then reseed those that produced pearls of good grade. Those that did not were consigned to the death row crate to become someone’s appetizer course.
That ended the first week of our French Polynesian Idyll. Soon we would visit the fabled South Pacific island paradise of Bora Bora!
]]>We had fits trying to think of a new and unusual getaway this year that was also romantic. That is so embarrassing for a writer of romance to admit. Oh, the shame of it all.
Our first big anniversary getaway was a tour of Italy. Our anniversary falls in July, which is undisputedly the most wretchedly hot and humid month of summer. We traveled through Italy on a tour bus with inoperative air-conditioning, drowning in perspiration. Have you ever tried to bite into a semi-liquid chocolate bar from Perugia? Most of the hotel rooms were “naturally air-conditioned” too. It was so hot that summer in Italy I gave up wearing a bra. I gave up wearing makeup too because it melted and slid off my face.
Great Britain was the next big destination for a romantic anniversary getaway. This time, we decided July weather would be too uncomfortable for travel. MG prefers cooler temperatures, so we postponed the trip to October—when airfare and hotel rates were lower too. As we were leaving for the airport, MG chided me for choosing a London Fog jacket lined with Thinsulate
. It isn’t winter yet so take something lighter, he said. You won’t need anything that heavy, he said. You’ll wish you’d taken something lighter when you have to lug that jacket all over the airport and all over England, he said. He made me doubt myself and I caved. I took a lightweight unlined jacket instead. Big, big, colossally big mistake. That year, England had its wettest and coldest October on record. In my attempt to stay warm and dry, I dressed in several layers—which is to say that each day in England I wore every item of clothing I packed for the trip, with the exception of two dressy evening outfits. Memo to Self: trust your own instincts.
We travelled with another couple on the Hawaiian anniversary getaway. They were also celebrating a big anniversary. The thing about travelling with other people is that sometimes you have to do the things they want to do that you would rather not do because you would sooner crawl naked through shards of broken glass, or have your wisdom teeth pulled without anesthesia, or exercise daily, than do those things that they want to do. Those two were avid golfers like MG. The three of them wanted to play golf on Maui. They played. I hacked—you really couldn’t call what I did golfing. One of the things I wanted to do was the helicopter tour of Maui with the flyby of the Haleakala volcano. I got to sit next to the pilot and literally had a bird’s eye view of the landscape below and of the volcano. The copter dove and wove as it flew over the island, none of which bothered me a bit. The others, well, they all got sick to some degree—headaches, dizziness, vomiting when we landed—even sicker than I got playing golf. Revenge can be so sweet.
The weather put a damper on the anniversary cruise to Alaska. It would have been a fairly romantic getaway if it weren’t so darn wet nearly all the time. It rained every day but two, the only days we got to use the veranda on the cabin we booked. We couldn’t see the coastal mountains for all the rain clouds. The waves were choppy from the wind and rain, and it wasn’t long before MG got seasick. That also put a damper on romance. Drat. While he languished in the cabin, I visited the spa and worked out. It almost felt like being single again.
We dared to plan another romantic cruise getaway for another big milestone anniversary. This time, we settled on the Mediterranean. In our excitement, we told MG’s family about our plans. It turned out that three of them had always wanted to do a Mediterranean cruise. Their eyes lit up. They thought it would be a great idea if we all went on the cruise together. O joy. The more the merrier. Doesn’t that sound romantic? MG could have told them that the cruise was to be a romantic anniversary celebration for just the two of us. No such luck. He couldn’t disappoint his older sister, who was recently widowed. So, when we all gathered around the computer to book the cruise, MG and I were in the minority. We didn’t get to book the cruise line and itinerary of our choice because we were outvoted. The others voted for Carnival, which caters to the party crowd and has less expensive fares than the cruise line of our choice. There was no opportunity for a romantic moonlight stroll on the promenade deck because there was an hours-long party on deck every night. The deck was lit up like Times Square and the band was louder than an H-Bomb blast. So much for romance. The cuisine wasn’t all that great either. ::sigh::
To mark our next big anniversary, we never left Michigan. We stayed at the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island—just the two of us—on a three-day romantic getaway package. It was so lovely and elegant. They filmed Somewhere in Time there for good reason. It is definitely a very romantic setting. We had a large room with a king-size bed, a dining nook, and a sitting area. Our welcome package in the room included champagne, cheeses, crackers, fruit, Mackinac Island fudge [Yum!], and fresh cut flowers. We also received a romantic carriage ride up to the island’s bluffs, and high tea one afternoon while being entertained by a trio of musicians. The meals were exquisite, the service impeccable, and the views absolutely gorgeous. Love the rockers on the porch too. I would go back again in a heartbeat.
So, we finally decided that this year we would do Detroit—go to a Tigers game and then stay at one of the luxury hotels, maybe visit a casino and/or the Henry Ford Museum, do something to please each of us. Well, those Tigers foiled our plans by having away games scheduled this week and almost for the rest of July. If we stick with the plan, we’ll have to celebrate in August some time. I think we’ll work it out. MG is so pumped to finally go to a Tigers game that it should put him in a very good mood—if they win, of course. In the meantime, on the evening of our anniversary, we satisfied MG’s craving for a Bloomin’ Onion and had a casual dinner at The Outback. It wasn’t spectacular, but then I didn’t have to cook, so yay!
You would think that travelling to faraway places would be more romantic than your own backyard. Oddly enough, we had better luck in the romance department closer to home by staying at the Grand Hotel. It appears that Dorothy was right after all. There’s no place like home, because home is where the heart is—and the romance too it seems. #romanticgetaways #anniversaries #cruises #GrandHotel
]]>