After a day in Barcelona it was all aboard the Norwegian
Gem, a brand new cruise ship christened on October 1 of this year, for a 9-day transatlantic repositioning cruise that would repatriate us for the first time since this whole adventure began. After passing through the Strait of Gibraltar and closer to Africa than we've ever been (although we're hoping to change that while we live here), we made one stop at Madeira -- what a gorgeous island. (There's our formidable ship in the bay.)
That was the last stop before crossing the pond to Boston. The trip was far less choppy than expected and a great deal further south than the Titanic's voyage so no iceberg-dodging, although one had to have a slightly hardier constitution than my own to brave the swimming pools... but plenty of people did. Aislin and I played shuffleboard and oversized chess, the kids made friends at the playground and happily bowled at the bowling alley despite some unpredictable rolls, and we read copiously (I managed to get through
this rather depressing but fascinating read; as well as
these barely passable, short-ish stories by the author of the much better
Life of Pi). But it was the easy availability of American food that made it a real vacation. Mm, sausage. Jeff may as well have been one big sausage gravy-boat (that's a confusing thing to punctuate, much less be) as much as he slurped down. I kept watching for signs of heart attack, but it'll take more than a paltry couple of pounds of straight lard to take down generations of Midwestern breeding.
After a day in Barcelona it was all aboard the Norwegian Gem, a brand new cruise ship christened on October 1 of this year, for a 9-day transatlantic repositioning cruise that would repatriate us for the first time since this whole adventure began. After passing through the Strait of Gibraltar and closer to Africa than we've ever been (although we're hoping to change that while we live here), we made one stop at Madeira -- what a gorgeous island. (There's our formidable ship in the bay.) 
That was the last stop before crossing the pond to Boston. The trip was far less choppy than expected and a great deal further south than the Titanic's voyage so no iceberg-dodging, although one had to have a slightly hardier constitution than my own to brave the swimming pools... but plenty of people did. Aislin and I played shuffleboard and oversized chess, the kids made friends at the playground and happily bowled at the bowling alley despite some unpredictable rolls, and we read copiously (I managed to get through this rather depressing but fascinating read; as well as these barely passable, short-ish stories by the author of the much better Life of Pi). But it was the easy availability of American food that made it a real vacation. Mm, sausage. Jeff may as well have been one big sausage gravy-boat (that's a confusing thing to punctuate, much less be) as much as he slurped down. I kept watching for signs of heart attack, but it'll take more than a paltry couple of pounds of straight lard to take down generations of Midwestern breeding.
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