I think they moved things around

 

On the sea again. We departed a short while after 330pm. Since we were going to sail under the Golden Gate Bridge it seemed a good time to get up to the top deck and watch the scenery come to me. I have gotten ahead of myself so I’ll get back to this is a bit.

The day started as it has for the past few days, except for the rocking. Starbucks best instant in my room, some running water and soap and the big decision of the day - Which black t-shirt?

Tablecloths and napkins for breakfast. It must have been awesome, except I honestly can’t remember what the meal was. I’ll take a look next time I am by there and refresh my memory, since I know you are of tenterhooks wondering which style of eggs I had. Now I remember. Two doughy croissants. They are supposed to be layers and layers of flaky goodness, not a triangle of Bisquick basic dough, rolled to be fat in the middle and pointy on the ends. I didn’t linger.

The curmudgeon parrot hating women yesterday said the parrots may be in the park across from the Embarcadero. I asked a passing cop where the Embarcadero was and he told me it was the street that I was standing on, the entire waterfront. Well that narrowed it down. Not. Guess I’ll just have to listen for Pirate talk coming from the trees during today’s stroll along the shore.

As with most of my plans for San Francisco this trip they are etched deeply into sand. I’ll walk from there to fort at the base of the Golden Gate Bridge and back. I have previously done that walk with a detour to center span of the bridge. I’m going to avoid that’s detour, because the last time I was there. Looking at the water below, I could hear the Lorelei call “Jump. Jump, Jump”. I was not and am not suicidal but I can still hear that Siren’s call.

The option was shoes or pedals. the walk isn’t that long and it follows the shore so is flat. I’ll leave the bike for a different trip. Past T-shirt, stuffed animals, chowder, lobster and fish. Big brick building on my left selling mediocre chocolate, I come to a hill. I know it’s been at least 35 years, but this hill wasn’t here before. I swear. And for sure if it was here before it wasn’t this steep. I’m climbing this miniature Everest and e-bikes ridden by people who haven’t sat on a bike since before puberty are screaming by using throttle only. Come on people it’s in it’s name ‘Bike’ pedal your ass that overhangs the seat and maybe not threaten the pedestrians and tighten your glutes.

After the crest of the hill, then it is time to roll down at speeds that are illegal in most neighborhoods on a machine you don’t know, among throngs of Golden Years walkers. Fortunatly no hips were broken as far as I could see.

I turn my gaze to the bridge and those fuckers have moved it since last visit. I am only half way. Down below is a building that used to be a Safeway that I remember seeing in the background of the chase scene in ‘Bullit’. Now it’s probably a Marijuana store or a t-shirt shop. Regardless my plan to walk to the bridge, just sifted through my fingers. I’ve been there before, it was cold and windy.

A U-turn and back over the hill and down to the brick edifice of chocolate. I thought about getting a few nibbles of chocolate, but at $36 a pound, I’ll stick to M&M’s. Nature is telling me that 3 cups of coffee was not the thing to do before a trek along the concrete coast. ‘In and Out Burgers’ must have restrooms. It does, for customers only. Okay there must be some bushes nearby. Then I espy a ‘Restroom’ arrow. I follow the arrow to the stick figure of men and women and reach for the door and see a lock suitable to safely contain the nuclear codes. Not a bush in sight. Some saint has scrawled on the wall “Code 60232”. This must be a practical joke, but at this point I’ll try anything. Worth shaking fingers and knock knee’d I press the buttons in the correct order and the light changes from Red to Green. That was all the greenery I needed, no bushes required.

Back on my now lightened soles I continued back on my path. Into the “Largest candy store in the world” - maybe. Their candy in bulk is only $16 a pound a bargain after the last purveyors cost of empty calories. Nothing begged to leave with me until the Jelly Belly aisle. There screaming was Buttered Popcorn flavored Jelly Belly jelly beans. Not so much for me, but a good friend back home. I had purchased a larger bag of assorted Jelly Belly’s as a snack on bard game Saturday. My friend was picking through the beans eating the Butter Popcorn ones one by one. I smacked his hand and told him that was not allowed, you can’t just pick out the good stuff and leave the Candy Corn flavored ones for the rest of us. So as my gift from afar I picked up a small bag that was 100% Buttered Popcorn flavored ones for them. Then I’m going to gobble them down right before the amazed eyes. Hahahahaha !! Actually I’ll not, but evil me says it would be funny, so maybe I will.

Back to the ship via Pier ??, past the juggling busker who was worth a stop of half an hour. Buskers are certainly now part of the new economy. Next to his over sized hat for tips was a QR code to his Venmo account. I tossed a couple virtual bills into his virtual hat. You, know later, I got a thank you note via Venmo from him.

Almost to the ship a nice young man was handing out fee CD’s of his bands music. He was slick, I walked away with a $10 free CD of music I’ll never listen to. Oh well, he is a ‘06 grad of Everett high school so I guess it went to a worthy cause.

Finally the weather is good enough to have the top decks beckon, especially since we will soon be underway. By underway I mostly mean under the Golden Gate Bridge. Not a deck chair to be found, every chaise covered in paperback books or towels. Loud Country music on the speakers, sung in an Asian accent. The railings shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip to get ‘That shot’ as we passed under the bridge. My shoulders and hips included.

Under the bridge.

Then poof ! There is no one around.

Back to the room and now dinner, I believe that concludes my final day in The City By The Bay.

 

Bird hunting in the City by the Bay

 

 Arrived in San Francisco about 10 minutes ago (officially), now the wait. Two thousand people need to pass through the passport stuff. I mean we did spent a whopping 6 hours in a high risk country. Victoria, Canada.

Last evening around 6pm I decided it was time for dinner, and the ship decided it was time to leave the safety of Puget Sound, and the Strait of Juan De Fuca. As soon as land was behind us the ship started bouncing and rocking. Then it go worse. I am pretty good with motion sickness, but this was on the edge. All night we crashed and banged south. The morning wasn’t much better. You know when the weather is bumpy when the little white bags at at the head of the stairs. Around mid day things started to settle down and the green alien looking people began to morph into humans again.

I had a purse of US. currency, but only 20’s and Benjamin's, not exactly tip money. I passed a Black Jack table and asked the dealer if he could change cash into chips, and walked away with seven $5 chips for my $40 (I would have had eight but I left one for him). Much later I passed the Craps table, it was dead. No one playing. That’s is no fun. The fun of Craps is the people yelling and the chips flying. But I was bored. I tossed $27 in various wagers ($22 inside and $5 Pass) and figured I’ll toss the dice and see if I could break even, just to kill 10 or so minutes. Something went wrong with that plan. The red fives changed into a Green $25 and a shiny Black $100 and my initial bet. The men got $10 and now have enough for tips for the most of the rest of the voyage.

I have had steak two times on NCL vessels. Both times it was at Cagney’s the ship’s specialty (read additional cost) restaurant. The ribeye was huge and stringy and tough and honestly the worst steak I have ever experienced. The butcher should have been forced to write a letter to the steers mother and apologize for what he did with her son. The reason I had it twice is because I knew it couldn’t be as bad as it was the first time. It was.

Last night I thought I’d try them again. Gawd it was noisy. There was one guy across the room who was so loud I had to turn on the noise filter on my hearing aids just so I could think enough to read my e-book. The wine steward was on quite an up sell. I just wanted a basic Burgundy, BUT ! for just a few dollars more I could get a much better wine. I tried to convince him that ‘Two Buck Chuck’ from Trader Joe’s was good enough for me, especially since I wasn’t expecting 45 day dry aged Angus beef from this joint. I had to get snippy with him and tell him to quit trying to up sell me. I think I became a magician at that point, because after he brought the glass I never saw him again.

The steak this time a fillet. The review: Better than the ribeye …… somewhat. The post dinner Frangelico was great.

A bit of music at one of the bars and a drink and lights out.

Henri, M.J. and August names I need to remember of some of the staff.

———

The ship not flopping in the night was Wonderful.

After the Customs stuff. I was on the street with no plans. Then I looked up at Coit Tower high atop Telegraph Hill. Telegraph Hill? Hmm… I read a book and saw a film based on “The parrots of Telegraph Hill” a couple decades ago. Mr. Google said the parrots were frequently seen at Pioneer Park a 12 minute walk. Fair enough. The zig-zag line on Google Maps kind of confused me, but off we go! You know what the zig-zag line turned out to be? Stairs ! My Nemesis. I found that every time my heart rate was reaching higher than my house number and breath was coming in huge gulps that there suddenly was the most interesting thing to stop to look and really absorb the view. I promise you it wasn’t to rest and catch up.

You’ll never guess where Pioneer Park is located. At the top of that darned hill. My house sits at 325 feet above sea level. According to Google Telegraph is 300 feet tall. Somebody’s lying (Fellow cruiser from the Bay Area, said it was closer to 425 feet). I have walked from sea level to my house numerous times and never sweated as much at today’s parrot trek.

At the top there is a tall cement phallus pointing to the sky. It’s supposed to look like a fire nozzle to thank the fire fighters for their efforts after the 1910 earthquake and fires. I’m not sure what I would have presented the city in thanks, but a cement dick probably wouldn’t have been it.

Looking around there was not a Psittacidae (parrot to you non big word users) in sight or hearing. A great grand mother was guarding the door to the tower so I asked her if the parrots were usually here. She almost gleefully told me that some guy wrote a book about them. He used to feed them so they hung around the area. Now it was illegal to feed the parrots, though you could still have a bird feeder for I assume approved birds. She was probably the one standing outside grocery stores with the no parrot feeding petition.

Well I guess just because I didn’t accomplish the task I started out for, but it was alright. I did have one task to accomplish while I was there. I needed to pee. There was an oddly shaped building that was the unisex toilet. It was occupied and I was fearing that a junkie was shooting up in it since it was lit ‘occupied’. A short wait and a tourist looking man emerged. I pushed the button to enter and was informed “Please wait. Cleaning in progress”. Huh? I could hear machines clanking, water running, water flushing and fans blowing. Then the light changed to green and the door opened to a very clean but wet toilet. I had seen several Waymo driverless taxis today, but a driverless toilet was completely unexpected.

I overheard a couple say that North Beach was just ‘down there’. That seemed like a reasonable place to go, especially when the word ‘down’ was included in the sentence.

More steps, some even requiring a handrail down to North Beach. Now a t-shirt, Italian restaurant and Gelato haven. In the 1960’s, before the hippies, Jack Kerouac, Alan Ginsberg and others of the beat generation called North Beach home, along with Dorothea Lang, the depression area photographer. Then came the Hungry-i home to the likes of the Kingston Trio and Lenny Bruce. They either went out of fashion or O.D.’ed and the next incarnation came Carol Doda, she was a B cup at a topless place called the Condor. Then became a C cup and then kept on growing eventually ending a 44DD’s, known in advertising as packing “Twin 44’s”. So lots of history. I did my best to locate these places, and failed for the most part, though the Condor still has it’s huge sign on the corner. But I think along with the Hungry-i that Carol Dora’s twin 44 have become dust. But maybe silicone doesn’t degrade.

An Italian delicatessen caught my eye and I ordered the house special. It was perfection wrapped in carbs. It was so big I honestly could only stuff half of it into my maw. I did manage to find it a good home with the man at the next table.

A mandatory stop at the Apple Store, just because, where I caught sight of a selfie of myself on the iPhone 17 Pro Max. “Theresa you really should have gotten your tresses trimmed before leaving home.” I had tried, but the salon didn’t have an opening until after this trip started. I found a very nice salon on the way back to the ship and got my hair cut. It looks so much better and eally feels so much lighter.

Back towards the ship down to the wharf where all the over priced fish that you could desire is located. They had broiled, boiled, baked, fried, chowder, soup and Chopino, I’m starting to sound like Bubba Gump talking about shrimp. Past the buskers of violins and steel drums. The gauntlet of Pedicabs and finally back to the ship, for an relaxing hour with my feet up.

This did bring back a memory from decades ago. I was in town with my lover and we needed to return to a block on the other side of a huge hill and asked a taxi what the fare could be. We were quoted around $20. This was when $20 could buy at least ten coffees, instead of the current three. A Pedicab driver asked us where we were going and we explained the $20 taxi dilemma to him. He said “I can get you there for less than that !”. I pointed out the hill and he said he could do it. We hopped on. He began peddling and was really working hard. He came to a stop in the financial district, miles from where we wanted. He said “Go down those stairs and catch the BART to the third stop. The BART costs $1.50 each. That will be $15”. We paid with a smile, he had gotten us to out destination for less that $20. I had to admire his voracity. He did exactly what he said he would, not what we were expecting, but a man true to his word.

Good night

 

Victoria's Mister Roberts

 

Actually October 1st.

At sea and at sea with a vengeance. Enough of at sea that there are the little white bags at the foot of each stairway. An obvious signal that as Bette Davis said “You’re in for a bumpy ride”. Last night we must have cleared the Juan De Fuca strait just about dinner time. The main dining room is at the very tippy back of the ship and it was up and down and then really up and down. One woman at a neighorbing table asked the waiter where the restroom was. Hurried out, and did not return the entire time I was eating. That was a prelude to future events. The night was rocking and rolling and bucking, with the occasional crash you could feel in the hull as we ran over a deadhead log, half sunken container or possible a wayward sailboat. My room (cabin? cell?) is on the 10th floor (deck? under head?) and I think 3 is at the waterline. So that puts my room at 60 or 70 feet off the water. Occasionally we would hit a wave that sent huge walls of spray several decks above my view.

Enough of the weather report.

Yesterday I woke up around 5am, the ship was totally still and background rumble of the engines was not there. The window didn’t tell me anything, except fog. Shortly we moved and the view changed to lights and noise outside, we had arrived in Victoria. Seven in the morning until 2 pm, just enough to get a taste of the city and to be able to brag “Canada? Oh, yes I have been there”. Kind of like my first Japanese experience. “Japan? Oh, yes. I went to Tokyo Disney for a day. I’ve visited Japan.”

I had a nice leisurely breakfast and then set my feet to actually touching Canada. Two days prior the forecast was for rain, but my phone app said to expect sun peeking out until about 2pm. Cool ! I can leave my clunky rain jacket on the ship. 

 

Walk out to the street turn left and keep the water on your left until you run into the Empress hotel. Sounds simple enough. It was before 10am so most of the people I passed on the street said ‘Hello’ back, except of course the dog walkers. I don’t know if they have the lawn police where I was walking, but every house or apartment looked like it was out of a visitor’s guide.

In the early to mid 60’s in Laguna Beach, California there was a local fixture at the main intersection coming into the town. An old guy who waved and smiled a welcome to Laguna to every car that entered the town. I think there might be a stature of him on that corner now. Victoria has Mr. Robert’s, for the ship cruisers. A dapper gentleman in slacks and sport jacket of retirement age, happy to pass the time with those passing by. We exchanged a few familiarities before I continued on.

Past the locked out strikers at a hotel. Yes, welcome to Canada. Where there is always a strike within a short walk.

Soon the province’s Parliament (state capital) building was on my right. A huge sandstone edifice to the power of taxation. I noticed that the national flags were at ‘half-staff’. I was told that it was National Ingenious Day. The day were the country says ‘Hey! We stole your land and we ain’t giving it back. Thank you so much. Here’s a day just for you.’

Once in downtown I wandered a bit. Bought a pen to keep notes on my daily thoughts and quickly forgotten occurances with. For some reason I left all 20 or 30 hotel pens that I’ve collected over the years at home. I wasn’t hungry. So no eating. Didn’t need a hand loomed native Indian blanket, woven in China, or another piece of something to keep the dust from settling on my counters. It was a look, no shopping day in Canada for me today.

I watched the police officer talking to the children and giving out stickers. Quite a change from my current view of the police back home, handing out free tear gas.

So after dodging the e-bikes and the leashed canines it was time to go back to the ship. It was an exact reverse, even said hello to Mr. Robert’s.

Back at the ship I wandered and explored trying to get a mental map of this floating city. Then sat on my balcony and watched the people returning to the ship. They did alright for the most part, the worst were only about 10 minutes late for the last boarding time of 130pm.

Late afternoon seemed like a good time to take advantage of my drink package and have a Mojito. A nice Rum and sweet stuff drink. I’ll drinking them again, though I don’t see them replacing my current favorite Margarita. After one the bartender asked me if I wanted another and I told him ‘No thank you, I have to drive.’ As I left he told me to watch out for the cops. Nice to know that, throwaway line wasn’t wasted.

That’s enough for now. Time to go find something else to waste the day with.

Panama bound. Good ? Bad ? We shall see

 Monday September 29th 2025

There are lots of don’t in the world.

Don’t walk under ladders.

Men, (or I suppose some acrobatic women) don’t pee on an electric fence.

Don’t go the grocery store when you are hungry.

No texting former lovers after a night drinking.

My current one is:

Don’t go internet surfing for cruises when you are bored.

I’m not going to say that I made a mistake, though all things considered perhaps a different trip would have been a wiser choice.

A trip through the Panama Canal. That sounds exciting! A repositioning cruise generally offers more days for dollars spent. So, out came the AMEX. Once the ‘No refunds’ day came and went, I really started looking at the trip.

21 days nine days at sea. With the first port, Seattle almost a neighborhood place to me. The end of the trip is Miami, Florida where I have absolutely no desire to spend any longer than absolutely necessary.

So I am now down to nine port days. Victoria Canada, a day trip from home. Went there 25 years ago and have not thought about going back in those 25 years. San Francisco, 2 days. Been there half a dozen times and saw what I wanted to see then. Los Angeles one day. I was raised in the L.A. area. I suppose I could rent a car and drive out to see old friends. Except for that, I’m kind of counting it a land ‘sea day’.

Cabo San Lucas, new to me. A nice former one shack fishing village that developers have changed into miles of ocean fronted all inclusive hotels and kind of cheap drinks.

Acapulco 8 hours of Sinatra nostalgia, that surely isn’t the place I am picturing on my mind. Watching the cliff divers while sipping a martini with Ava Gardner at the next table. Currently the U.S. State Department (that is still it’s name, isn’t It?) a level 4 travel advisory due to gang activity and murder. It’s not going to stop me, it’s within my level of risk, but remember Lynda has my Will if need be.

Someplace in Guatemala and another place in Costa Rica, could be great. With more than 8 hours to experience each of them.

Panama City and the canal. That could be interesting. Though the canal might be a glorified Ballard locks without the salmon ladder.

Cartagena, Columbia. Yes please. History. Great coffee. Tony Montana. I’m looking forward to that city.

Which leads me to my current location cabin 10710 somewhere between Seattle and Victoria with nearly 1700 strangers, soon to be up to 4000 after picking up more passengers in San Francisco, and the City of the Angels.

This morning was about as easy as you can get when leaving for a trip. Get up, have a cup of coffee, ride 5 blocks, get on a bus. Two hours later catch a taxi, give a man 30 pounds of clean clothes, zig zag through large rooms and then ‘Welcome Aboard’.

The bus is the same one I would take if I was flying out of SeaTac, but for some reason this trip had a stop right downtown Seattle, which was perfect for me. The cruise terminal could have been a nice 40 minute stroll if I wasn’t towing 30 pounds of clean clothes behind me. Instead I saw a Yellow car, stuck my hand up and rode in Toyota Prius style to the terminal. No meter, a ‘Flat fee’. I’m not sure the company is going to hear about that $15 flat fee, since it wasn’t recorded on the meter. I handed him a $20 and stood there. “Oh. You want change?”. Yes, please.

I was about an hour and a half early for my assigned boarding time. My plan was to drop off the luggage and then walk up to Pike Place Market and be tourist for a bit. The weather wasn’t as inviting as my plan thought I should be, so I asked a lady gate keeper if they were enforcing the boarding times. She shrugged and said. “Go ahead. You just tell them you didn’t know any better.”. At over 70 years of age, I think that is going to be my mantra from now on. After that it was read this, sign that, show my government documentation and find a bar. 1130 am really was a bit too early for me even in my days of alcoholic training in high school, so I opted for a Diet Coke.

Talked to a few strangers, who are now acquaintances. A couple who were both retired Air Force members, and were Air Force brats to boot. I ran into Jill an older woman from England on her first trip to the states (and I assume Central America). She flew into Seattle a couple days early and touristed around for a bit. “People in Seattle are so nice. It’s odd they pass you on the street and smile at you, and sometimes say hello.”. I didn’t tell her of my before 10 am and afternoon 10 tropes I meet when biking the trails. Before they smile and say hello (unless they are with a dog. Then they are concentrated on the dog’s anus) and after 10 am where hardly anyone has a smile on their face. I’m really happy we left her with a good impression.

Then there is Ron, who as a long haired hippie freak in the 60’s toured Asia and the Indian subcontinent. After dinner there was Garry a man who can talk for15 minutes straight with out taking a breath. We talked for about 3 breaths.

It’s now close to 9 pm. I’m not tired so much as mentally overloaded, so I think it is time to grab my book and head to the room and watch Washington state or British Columbia roll by my sliding glass door.