Onboard Antics: From Fireball to the Southern Cross

Chair Aerobics

“I’m going to chair aerobics today,” I say to GJT. He nods and heads for the gym while I start for the Queen’s Room where all the dance and movement classes take place. 

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” I say to myself. 

“Good morning team, let’s begin,” says Lucy. 

We circle our joints.  I feel good.  

“OK, team let’s work the core,” Lucy says. 

My legs are up, I’m doing what Lucy calls scissors but what I know as ballet  entrechats. Either way I’m ready to put my legs down. 

“Just a bit more team, you’re looking good. We can do this!” Lucy says, enthusiastically. 

Whew! Legs down.  

“Now let’s work the arms,” Lucy says, and the song changes. 

I’m circling with my arms straight to the side, more circles, reverse circles, now moving the circles up to the ceiling, now circling back down. OK, I’m getting the point here. And then comes the final aerobic song. I’m moving my feet in place like I’m running away from an imaginary tiger. The lyrics pause. I stop moving.  

Lucy says, “wait for it!” 

The whole class shouts- “FIREBALL!” I almost jump out of my chair.

“Faster, team, faster! Come on team. Make them hear you in the library!” Lucy says. “And…”

“FIREBALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Lucy smiles. Everyone is smiling as they race towards the finish line. Even me! This is crazy! Fully aerobicized,  Lucy leads us into the cool down. 

I silently promise never to make fun of chair aerobics again and yes, I was sore the next day! And Yes, I even convinced GJT to take the class and he loved it!

Southern Cross

Cunard schedules three lectures a day on sea days.  In one of the lectures we listened to a British astronomer, Charles Barclay, and tonight, February 20,   he would lead us across the sky of the southern hemisphere in the darkened Cabana deck at 9 PM. Everyone hopes to see the Southern Cross. 

I grope forward in complete darkness taking tiny steps holding onto GJT. Slowly my eyes condition themselves to darkness and shapes of people emerge to match the voices I’d been hearing. 

“Let’s hope the clouds work with us. You just have to wait a while and things change,” Barclay says as he starts his skywatch. 

“Let’s start over here with Jupiter,” he points his green laser light at the planet. “And there’s Mars. Ah, yes, the clouds are moving,” he turns around to face another part of the sky,  “and here is the false cross. Don’t be fooled it’s not the Southern Cross, not yet.” 

What? There’s a false cross? I look at GJT and he shrugs his shoulders. 

“Forget the constellations or hunting for celestial animals. Neither is helpful when you look at the stars. Instead, seek out geometric patterns to find your way around the sky. See here’s the winter hexagon,” he waves his green laser from star to star. 

“Oh, wow, I see it now,” GJT says. 

“There are many more stars in the Southern hemisphere than the Northern,” he says. The green laser draws an imaginary line in the sky, “here’s about where the southern and northern hemisphere connect. Some stars can be seen in both hemispheres along this area.” 

“This is great,” I whisper. 

“And now take a look to your right. First you have to find the pointing stars that are quite bright. See  them: Alpha and Beta Centauri!” The green laser circles around these stars as he continues by extending the green line. “And now that’s the Southern Cross.”

“Oh, Wow!” Everyone sighs. I felt like an ancient seafarer guiding my journey by the stars.  He was now naming each start in the Southern Cross: Alpha Crucis, Beta Crucis, Gamma Crucis and Delta Crucis. 

“And if we look at bit closer, yes, the weather is with us, you’ll see a fifth star Epsilon Crucis.” 

We stay for a while longer as he goes through the patterns again in order to fix them in our memories. 

“Well, Southern Cross- check!” I say as we step back into the light and head to our stateroom. 

Tonga

  • Tongan Dancers

    Joyful dancers greeted us at the Tongan port.

  • Tongan Art on Public Display

    Tongan art with its swirls and graceful lines.

  • Melino and Fiefio

    God of Peace and Happiness

    Maria’s stall in the make shift market where I purchased the God of Peace and Happiness, Melino and Fiefio.

“Mostly the evening shows were singers, comics, a few jugglers and some musicians, and of course, dancers. But tonight (2.19.25) as the entertainment director said would be special. We would watch “The Sandman.” 

We get to the Royal Court Theatre early and sit in the first few rows. “This should be good,” I say. 

“At least interesting and different,” GJT says. 

The Sandman is a Maori talent who creates pictures with his moving hands in a sandbox that are projected onto the screen centerstage. After a few opening animals we all recognize he says, “Here’s the Maori creation story.” 

Suddenly a beautiful wavy picture of water and sky accompanied by a beautiful woman forms. “Now, I’ll take you on a world voyage. See if you can identify the places,” he says. 

The audience shouts: Sydney, NYC, London and many others. 

“Here’s a short film showing you how the school program I’ve developed teaches children the Maori culture by creating sand pictures.” He finishes painting two ink pictures and places them at the edge of the stage for everyone to come closer, look, and take pictures. The audience thanked him with much applause. 

And now came what I had been waiting for- HOBBITS!!!! 

Auckland: The Journey to Hobbiton Begins:  I’m standing in line for an omelette in the Artisan Buffet that they make for you three at a time with your choice of ingredients.  We’re in Auckland and it’s time to see the hobbits! I just have to say something someone as I wait in line or I’ll explode. 

“Have you ever been to New Zealand?” I ask the woman behind me with sculpted hair. 

“Many times,” she said. 

There is now one person in front of me and she hasn’t shut up talking about North Island and South  Island, that the glacier has gotten smaller, and so many other details that went right out of my head. I mean hobbits!!!!! 

“Have you ever gone to Hobbiton? We’re going today,” I blurt out as she’s taking a breath. 

“Not interested,” she said. 

I see her nose going a bit higher in the air. She continued talking but I had tuned out. 

“Your omelet Madam!” I took my breakfast and walked to my table. 

Finally, after walking completely in the opposite direction we stand in front of the Movenpick Hotel and I have checked inside to make sure the Cheeky Kiwi van that will take us to Hobbiton stops here. All is well. 

“Maybe that couple is waiting too,” I say to GJT. “I’ll go ask.” 

 “No,” the man says. “Our American family always goes there. We live here,” he said sheepishly, “and have never been.” I smile, nod, thank them, and walk back to GJT to inform him. 

And then we hear two couples approach us.  

Suddenly it’s a party. They were from Oklahoma and yes, it’s time to be a loud American! The six of us are laughing and sharing stories.

“Here it is!”

The Cheeky Kiwi van pulls up and we get on ready for a two and a half hour drive to Hobbiton!  

Along the way the female Maori driver describes sites, Maori landmarks, and sculptures. I felt six years old - are we there yet??? 

And then we were. 

  • Dream it.

  • Build it.

  • Grow it.

  • Sell it.

The Wallet’s Return: A Moment of Pure Joy: It’s 2.23.25 We enter our stateroom and there’s an envelope on our bed with the chocolates and tomorrow’s schedule. 

“Oh- oh!” GJT says, and hands it to me. 

I cautiously open it and practically drop to the bed, “Our house sitter found my wallet.” I throw down the letter and jump up and down. 

“WHAT????” GJT says, and then he realizes his suspicion was correct. I left home without it!  We do the dance of joy bump into each other and fall on the bed. 

“Now I feel I can start my vacation!”

Tauranga: A Place of Beauty and Lost Cards

Perhaps it was because I hadn’t lost my wallet, perhaps it was because I had rested from the day before, maybe even the hobbits had something to do with it, but for whatever reason Tauranga, located on the North Island in the Bay of Plenty, is the most fabulous place in the world as we walk off the ship. 

The stretch before us is a half moon beach with a path to Mount Manganui, the volcanic cone that dominates the landscape. Of course, we’re going to walk up or around or something. We pass boats lazily bobbing in the water, people sitting on benches continuously along the path. 

We are halfway down the path oohing and aahing at the sheer joy of it all when suddenly I hear, “Graham Thema! Graham Thema!” 

I turn around and see a man holding something in his lifted hand. I run towards him and GJT follows. 

“Your ship card!” the man says handing it to me. 

Oh great I think, just the card you can’t get on or off the ship without. The card that pays for everything on board. Nothing major! I hand the card to GJT who is unaware he has even lost it! 

“I had had an image in my head of a card from the ship on the ground and someone picking it up,” I say out loud.  

 “Are you psychic?” the man says. 

Jokingly, I say, “Yes, of course.” 

“Will I win the lottery?” he asks. 

“No,” I respond and we all laugh. 

The Fig Tree

In the Bay of Islands, our last New Zealand port,  it’s tender time! 

 We board the tender 9:30 AM; take a shuttle bus 10:00 AM; board a ferry 10:30 AM all to arrive in the tiny town of Russell at 11 AM. 

“I want to see that quaint village the port presenter showed us when he gave this port’s presentation,” I say. 

 We step off the ferry. “Where is it? The village? The artisans? All I see is a fig tree. OK, fantastic and amazing, but still a fig tree!” 

Still on Russell, we walk, walk, walk— and look, look, look. Nice , but still no quaint village in site. We decide to go back on the ferry. 

Walking to the dock we encounter a man with bulging arm muscles hobbling on two sprung sticks and his left leg is in a big huge boot.  

 “Torn Achilles, broken tibia,” he tells us as he speeds up towards the ferry.  We try to keep up with him, as he tells us his accident happened snowboarding. “You gotta do things that are cool! Of course, now I’m suboptimal!” 

Suboptimal? GJT and I look at each other and our eyes twinkle as we step on the ferry. 

New Zealand Reflections

Back on the ship I take my journal out. Time for reflecting on New Zealand. I consider the conservation and sustainability festival in Auckland dedicated to the youth and then how we couldn’t take any fruit or honey off the ship so as to not endanger New Zealand’s natural habitat.  I decide maybe NZ is the right size country to create consensus and hope for the future of our planet.

I find myself writing about all the weaving I saw during our time here. Is that what made this country so aesthetically pleasing? The weaving of hobbiton homes into the natural habitat;  the weaving of old and new buildings together in downtown Auckland. And then the weaving of the plants and trees on the sides of the roadways growing all together side by side. I note how the people seem to follow in a different kind of weave - we experienced so many different cultures walking around on a Saturday night in Auckland - I write how the energy so vibrant and  crazy energy and yet I felt completely safe! Children were running, strollers passed us and walkers were everywhere and then the beer truck rolling along. 

I add that the geometric designs woven into the pavement and older building designs standing right beside tall skyscrapers. I note the Maori patterns of spirals. Did they relate to it too? Suddenly, it all seemed to fit and click. I think maybe order isn’t the best policy. Maybe disorder creates order, just of a different kind. It all starts to make a new kind of sense as we sail towards Sydney.