From Honolulu to the Balloon
Wallet Woes, Artful Discoveries, and Shipboard Encounters
The Wallet Saga Continues
Life can’t stop because I lost my wallet. I know this in my head, but my heart and stomach are singing another tune. My brain tells my heart, it will all work out, it will all be fine, but my stomach isn’t buying it.
GJT and I are standing on land, after five sea days, in Honolulu, in the alcove of a building with no one around to call our neighbors. GJT, thinking à la Sherlock that since no one is committing fraud with my cards, maybe the impossible— that I left my wallet at home— happened.
We chat telling our neighbors how lovely everything is before relaying the situation. As we are explaining “the problem” we hear over a speaker system, “Please leave the premises!”
At first GJT and I don’t understand who’s talking. We ignore it. No one’s around. We continue our phone conversation and then comes, “If you don’t leave the premises we will call the police!”
We finish our call and leave quickly. “Now we know why no one is around the building,” GJT says as we head toward the Hawaiian Art Gallery. Just 1.5 miles walk to get there.
The Hawaiian Art Museum Favorites
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Allyn Bromley's work
Born in 1928, Allyn Bromley is still making art and used Covid to write a letter to her mother. She hammered out small 2“squares of plastic from her everyday item use and wrote in the empty spaces. Then she stitched all the squares together like a quilt.
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Saturo Abe
This huge frame contains single sheets of Saturo Abe’s sketchbook pages. These tiny drawings are nothing special individually, but together make every drawing interesting creating a big impact.
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Kuan Yin
Sitting in front of this life size statue from the 11th century of Kuan Yin we felt an immediate tranquility. This goddess of compassion calmed our uncertainty of this point in the world cruise.
STEM versus STEAM
STEM versus STEAM
The next day, my art-inspired hope crashed with our neighbor's text: no luck with the wallet. Another friend's mantra, "Breathe in the present," became my calming thought as we arrived at the Royal Court Theatre for a Q & A with Sylvia Aredo, a pioneer for women in science and a leader of the Girl Scouts. Her stories revealed how she got young girls into computer science and math. The secret? The arts. Knitting, bead making, and dancing were her keys to explaining complex STEM concepts.
But here's the rub: she kept talking about STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Math), while all her examples screamed STEAM (Science, Technology, Engineering, Art, and Math) . The girls only engaged when art sparked their interest and confidence.
My question burned. Mic in hand, I challenged her: "You showed how the arts help explain STEM and build confidence. So why isn't it STEAM? Why aren't the arts explicitly credited for their vital role?"
A few audience "hmmmms" echoed my point. Sylvia, the clever woman she is, sidestepped the STEAM acronym. Yet, her answer entirely validated the arts' crucial contribution. I left inspired by her, but still wanting her to give the arts explicit credit.
The Quest for Queen Anne’s Portrait
By this time GJT and I have pretty much explored the entire ship, yet there was one thing we couldn’t find. “Remember on Queen Elizabeth, how we stood by her portrait and took our picture?” I said to GJT. “Yes, he said, “Where’s Queen Anne?”
My prior to the cruise research about Queen Anne confirmed how relevant the choice of her name was for this ship. Cunard was breaking from tradition and plunging into the modern era. During Queen Anne’s reign (1702-1714) England had united with Wales, Scotland, and Northern Ireland to become Great Britain. A perfect fit for the promo of this new ship. So where was she? It was a bit embarrassing when GJT and I started asking staff in the shops where Queen Anne’s portrait was. Some didn’t even know there had been an actual Queen Anne in British history. Oops!
We abandon our search for the moment. And then the opportunity presented itself to ask someone who would definitely know, Captain Inger Thorhauge who was doing a Q & A in the Royal Court Theatre.
She has explained her journey from her birthplace, the Faroe Islands, to where she is today, demonstrating her grit and determination to become a captain despite the odds against her achieving her goal. She impressed us as a no nonsense commander.
A man stands to ask the first audience question. His interaction with the Captain demonstrated to everyone just how sharp our Captain is.
“Yesterday,” the man begins, “you and I had an argument about the smoking section on board.”
Apparently, smokers who had a beautiful designated area on the ship were straying into non-smoking territory.
“No,” she answers calmly and with authority. “I told you the rules and you disagreed with them. That is not an argument.”
The audience erupts in applause.
I am given the mic, “I think I speak for many of us on board that we are so happy you are a woman.” Laughter and another round of applause. “You spoke so eloquently about history and tradition being important to Cunard, yet I can’t find a picture of Queen Anne anywhere on ship. I’ve asked crew and staff and no one knows even that there was an actual Queen Anne.” I’m determined to get the link I see from Queen Anne to the ship out there. I continue, “She is important as Cunard is beginning a new era with this ship just as the actual Queen Anne with the Act of Union began a new era for Great Britain.”
She responds immediately,“Ah, but there is a picture of Queen Anne. On the second deck starboard side.”
“Thank you.”
“I knew she would have an answer,” I say to GJT.
She’s so tiny. Couldn’t they find a bigger picture of her?” GJT says. “Well, at least she’s here and the captain knew about her and where she was,” I say.
We stroll outside on the Panorama Deck
Right before I walk inside, a male voice says, “Did you find the picture?”
I turn around and a man eyes me directly. I’m pleased someone in the audience remembered my quest.
“Yes, but it’s a postage stamp,” I reply.
“But it’s there,” he says.
I nod, and proceed inside, wondering: Would a picture of King Henry VIII be that small? Would a male president be satisfied if his namesake vessel hung with a minuscule picture of him? I think not.
Crossing the Lines
Between Hawaii and American Samoa Queen Anne (an us too) crossed for the first time the International Date Line and the Equator. The 1884 decision creating the International Date Line in Washington, D.C. at the International Meridian Conference affected us on 2.12.25 when the magic that is the date line made 2.13.25 go poof! Suddenly it’s Valentine’s Day!
GJT in his tux, and I in my sparkling red sequins go to dinner in the Britannia Restaurant. An ice sculpture of a huge heart adorns the gala dining table and roses are laid out. I receive a long stem rose (which I kept alive for a week) as each lady does when she enters the dining room. “Don’t I get one?” GJT asks with a cheeky grin, but apparently here is one place the females rule.
For the equator there would be a ceremony. An announcement in the daily schedule asked for volunteers who want to participate in the King Neptune ceremony when Queen Anne makes her first crossing of the equator.
I envision wearing a sparkly costume, maybe doing some dancing and generally looking fabulous, but I read swimming is involved. When time for signing up came I said to one of the Cunard staff, “I’d rather not swim. Can I still take part?”
“Yes, you can just kiss the fish,” she said, and moves away. Kiss the fish?
“Everyone your attention please. For this ceremony make sure you wear something you don’t care about as you will get messy and dirty,” she announces.
With dismay I decide not to participate in the ceremony. This ballerina needs her sparkles!
The Tooth Fairy’s Sea Visit
A few days into our sail towards American Samoa, I sat with my lunch in the Artisan Dining Room. Around me, cruisers refueled, faces frozen, quiet save for the chewing. Ocean, sun, clouds, and endless food choices surrounded us, yet everyone looked… glum. I shook my head. Was it the endless sea days, or just my own perception?
GJT sat down, his plate piled with custom-made pasta. It looked fabulous, hot and tasty.
“Everyone looks glum,” I observed.
“They’re British,” he mumbled, setting down his plate. “Or German.”
“Is that it?” I asked, "How's the pasta?"
"Not bad at all," he said, taking his first bite.
“Well, today I thought we might…” I began, then stopped, staring. He’d put down his fork, hand cupped to his mouth.
“Tooth,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Tooth.”
My stomach dropped. This was my pre-trip dental anxiety manifesting? I remembered my worries, hyperventilating silently.
He opened his fist, revealing a pearlescent, pinky-fingernail shape. “I bit the fork!”
“What is it?” I gasped.
“Part of my crown,” he said, pushing his plate away.
I gulped my food, and we hurried back to the room to survey the damage.
According to my Irish roots, we’d lose three things on this trip. So far: the green thermos, my wallet, and now GJT’s tooth. Thankfully, the Tooth Fairy had only claimed a sliver. I sighed with relief. The cycle was over!
American Samoa: Unexpected Discoveries
After five sea days we dock at American Samoa (February 17) . It’s cloudy and 77˚F as we exit the ship’s gangplank walking towards the market that has formed by our berth. “It’s like Florida,” I say to GJT as we walk into town heading towards the cathedral. “Hibiscus, poinciana, mangrove trees.”
“It’s hotter, though,” GJT says.
“Yeah, we’re closer to the equator,” I say.
We reach the cathedral built in 1857, then demolished by a cyclone and rebuilt in 1884. We take a step inside to see a combination of Roman style columns and stained glass windows also incorporate Samoan architectural influence as well. The sound of communal voices ring through the air.
“It’s a Catholic high mass in Samoan!” I whisper to GJT as we sit in the back. The all enveloping sound of an entire cathedral singing feels awe-inspiring on this Monday morning! I gaze up at the ceiling and see woodwork that takes my breath away.
An Asian woman sits down beside us. She whispers, “This church is better than St. Petersburg. It’s more organic and natural. I made my three wishes,” she continues.
“What?” says GJT.
“Whenever you come to a new church you’re allowed three wishes.” She sits for a moment longer and then leaves.
“Did you make your three wishes?” GJT says to me. I nod.
I recognize the time in the mass when a sign of peace is given to one’s neighbor. As the parishioners begin to shake each others’s hands a Samoan woman in a white long shimmering dress walks up to me and extends her hand. We shake saying the mantra “peace be with you!”
Mass ends. We leave the church and continue through the park to the clock tower.
“Which way do we go?” I ask GJT.
A couple appear in front of us walking slowly.
“Is it this way to the center of town?” I ask them.
The woman with a sunken chest, wears binoculars. She smiles, but it’s her husband who answers giving us quick directions. They, too, are from Queen Anne and we strike up a conversation. He begins to brag about doing his own physiotherapy for his hip replacement. His wife says to me on the side, “I’m an orthopedic nurse and he did his own physio by himself! Men!”
The Mysterious Queen’s Room Balloon
Samoan exploring finished, we now sit in the Queen’s Room for afternoon tea. I take my sketch pad and start doodling the scrim, a graphic of a mountain region that’s behind the stage where the orchestra plays.
“Tea, madam?”
Samoan exploring finished, we now sit in the Queen’s Room for afternoon tea. “Tea, madam?”
I nod and take out my sketchbook. I see the picture behind the stage in the Queen’s Room and decide, why not draw that? I take a bite of my delicious scone, my favorite. After chatting a bit with GJT I go back to sketching only I see a black balloon on the projection in the back. I include it in my drawing (see above right) by creating the circle on the right.
After a few more sips of tea I finish my scone and look up to continue sketching. The balloon is gone.
“Do you see a black balloon on the scrim?” I say to GJT.
He looks. “No balloon,” he says.
I tap on the man’s shoulder next to ours and ask the couple if they saw a black balloon on the scrim.
“No balloon,” he says.
I go to the audio tech man in the back.
“Is there a black balloon up there on the scrim?”
“No balloon,” he says.
I walk to a woman who is Cunard staff standing in the pathway.
“Is there a black balloon on the scrim?”
She peeks. “No balloon.”
Tea is over. Am I going crazy? I saw a black balloon. I know I did. Disheartened, I walk to the library on the 12th deck. GJT goes outside in the Cabana room to take pictures.
I am looking out the window at the ocean wondering just how crazy I actually am, when someone taps me on the shoulder.
“Look,” he says shoving his iPhone into my hand.
It’s the couple sitting next to us at tea.
“Here’s the black balloon, “ he’s smiling now. “We sat and watched and suddenly this mountain lifts up and becomes the black balloon.”
Vindicated!!
