I'm Back

We left LAX at 9:30 Monday night, landed in Auckland about 4:30 Wednesday morning. (Since we weren’t coming back until Wednesday, seems like we should’ve been able to stay in California an extra day.) Lost yesterday in a jet-lagged fog, but somehow the laundry’s done and there’s milk in the fridge, so now I can catch up on important stuff like blogging.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation
Ali & I left Auckland late evening on Wednesday, 18 May, and arrived in LA late morning on Wednesday, May 18. The flight’s about 12 hours, which really isn’t as bad as it sounds. They fly so high there’s not much turbulence, and it’s so long that you can really sleep on the plane. Although I’m not suggesting you sleep well, it’s amazing how fast the time passes. But traveling eastward is hard, and I spent the first night totally jet-lagged, reading about the unreality – and relativity - of time (an article about Einstein and Gödel).

I was totally zonked the next couple days, but visiting my good-natured, Farsi-speaking in-laws, so no worries. When conversation gets involved I just sit there dazed and confused anyway. By Sunday we were in sync with local time, and ready to cruise.

A Supposedly Fun Thing
I’ve never been on a cruise before, and never felt I was missing anything - Ali and I are DIY travelers. But that’s how Bob and Julie wanted to get married, so after getting briefly lost in Long Beach, we were at the terminal and boarding with 2,400 or so other passengers for 6 days/7 nights on our floating resort, the Carnival Pride.

The ship was huge, elegantly garish, and very well staffed with 900 smiling people, mostly from Asia and Eastern Europe. It had all the amenities – a casino, disco, spa, Las Vegas-type shows, copious amounts of food served from early morning ‘til past midnight, etc. A frenetic cruise director regularly announced shore excursions, shopping opportunities, and a wide range of activities – such as the hairy-chest and TV trivia contests. In other words, something for everyone.

I don’t want to bore with details: some of it was quite nice (our room was twice the size I’d expected, and had a private balcony too), some of it made me cringe (waiters forced to sing and dance on tables for our “amusement”). I was frequently reminded of a side-splittingly funny piece by David Foster Wallace, called “A Supposedly Fun Thing That I’ll Never Do Again.”

I’ll save my impressions of Mexico for next time.

Cheers,
Sandie