October 1 – 8, 2015

Day 1 & 2 – Amsterdam

My First Experience with Uber

I downloaded Uber yesterday, accidentally ordering a driver, having a terrible time trying to figure out how to cancel the car as I saw it inch ever closer to our apartment.  Today is the real test.  I move the pinpoint to where we are standing and then key in the Port of Amsterdam as our destination.  The Mercedes arrives within three minutes.  The driver helps load our bags, I show him the exact address and we are off.

The Emerald Dawn is first in line at the dock and we wheel our bags on board.  We are greeted with drinks and apologies all around for the crew not noticing our arrival and helping with our luggage; it is quickly taken off our hands. We check-in.  Our hearts sink. All they want is our passports, and all we don’t have is our passports. They are perfectly safe, tucked in a corner on the top shelf of the bedroom in our Amsterdam apartment, and…we have no key to re-enter the apartment. Our individual driver’s license is acceptable ID as long as our passports appear before we sail at noon tomorrow. The crew is more than gracious as they show us to our room; we booked an Owner’s One Bedroom Suite.

I’m afraid to unpack till our passports are retrieved.  Our hearts still reside in our stomach which resides as low in the human body as it can go.  I text, email and phone Alexander.  We hear nothing.  He frequently travels on business. I fear today will be such a day. I email his wife in New York.  Still nothing.  The waiting seems interminable. We cannot relax till this is resolved.  Thirty minutes later I receive a text from Alexander, “Take a taxi now.  I will meet you at the apartment.”

Uber to the rescue.  I owe Alexander the world.  I tell him so.

“I’ll email you,” I say.

I learn to love Uber. I wonder if they would come to Wimberley.

The Emerald Dawn

Back in our cabin I begin to unpack. The length of two regular cabins, it is simply furnished with two comfortable chairs for watching the giant TV, a walk-in closet, and more room than I need to store all of our belongings.

The stress of the afternoon is too much.  We lay on the bed to rest and crash instead.

Seated in the lounge for our orientation we find that this is Emerald’s largest cruise yet.  Not thrilling news—I like things half full. During dinner we find a table for two and can barely hear ourselves think much less have a conversation with one hundred-and-eighty-one passengers and more than twenty crew packed into the restaurant area, all talking at the same time, voices raised even higher in order to be heard.

We fall asleep to the steady throbbing of the engine as it chugs its way up the Rhine. I feel like Katherine Hepburn on the African Queen.

Day 3 – On the Rhine in Cologne

We leave the curtains of our cabin open wide, morning, noon and night; the magic of dawn greets us with streaks of pink and crimson and gold.  The teal blue sky is a backdrop for a multi-turreted chateau (but we aren’t in France—what is it called in Germany?) facing the river with assorted sizes of blue and yellow, round and peak-roofed, striped tents.

Michael says, “It looks like the circus has come to town.”

We have WIFI.  I Google. I think he is right.

We continue up the Rhine dodging all manner of traffic on the river until we reach Cologne.  The throngs of humanity are overwhelming; neither the shore nor the cathedral has a draw greater than our desire to shun the crowds; we stay on board on the sundeck watching the parade of people. At cocktail hour we discover we were the wise minority. No one could see anything on the tour.

We are seated at the Captain’s Table for tonight’s dinner. The couple sitting next to us is from England; they own a pub in Somerset. They seem so young compared to the recently-retired-and-beyond that populate this voyage.  I feel sorry for the Captain.  He looks uncomfortable in his own skin — although very gracious and charming when greeting each guest. It is an obligation that he has to get through weekly.

Day IV – Koblenz

Today in Koblenz we take the cable car across the Rhine to the Ehrenbreitstein Fortress. As we lift off the ground, skimming trees, approaching the river, a giant statue greets us—horse and rider. The tops of the trees appearing to be its pedestal.

Ehrenbreitstein Fortress

The fortress is immense—multi-layered—stone stacked upon stone, spilling down the cliff. New upon old. Repurposed. Redone.  We follow the crowds, taking in the view. When we have had enough I tell Michael, “There is a path back there that I would like to follow.”

We take the road less traveled, venture through a doorway and see an exhibit of photos.  Hitler with young boys in shorts and shirts with sleeves rolled up.  Flags waving.  Groups of women in dresses and men in suits gathered around large tables having tea. American soldiers, lowering the US flag.  A woman feeds chickens.

Back across the river, feet on the ground we take a short walk to the statue’s home—Emperor Wilhelm I—at the confluence of the Moselle and Rhine Rivers.

The Trip to Rudesheim

Onboard early Michael and I quickly head to the bow deck,  taking up our position for the afternoon behind large glass wind deflectors, sitting in wide-padded-rattan chairs — with a footstool. We have snagged two of the six prime seats available.  It is cloudy, the sundeck too cool. We have heard that today, from Koblenz to Rudesheim, is the best part of the river cruise; the castles line the banks on each side of the Rhine.  We count ourselves lucky to snag the best view as we nap for an hour waiting for the Emerald Dawn to set sail; me snuggling under the warmth of my London Fog raincoat.

The sun drops behind the clouds, the temperature drops, and it is time to dress for dinner.  I am upset that we will pass half of this scenic portion of the river in the dark. Michael frowns when I complain.

Day 5 – Rudesheim

Today we spend in Rudesheim, a picture perfect German village.  A little too perfect.  Vail-like. In what appears to be the town square we see a sign tacked onto the wall of a large church for the Camino de Santiago—it stalks us wherever we go. Apparently, all roads don’t lead to Rome. The church is Catholic.  I am surprised. I thought Germany totally Lutheran. Michael points out that my German immigrant great-great-grandparents were Catholic. Some were Wends, fleeing persecution of a different kind from their Prussian masters.

I no longer hear the engines throb at night.  I hate that I got used to the sound.

Day VI – On the River to Germersheim

We wake with the boat docked in the town of Mannheim, and all I can think of is Mannheim Steamroller and the sounds of Christmas. We have the opportunity to board a bus and travel to Heidelberg for a day-long trip, but we decline. I can’t see trading a comfortable boat for a bus and walking tour.  We stay put and reclaim our seats near the bow of the boat. Just before lunch rain chases us indoors.

I play Candy Crush.  I can’t believe I reloaded it—but it is just for the duration of the cruise.  A sweet couple from England—Liverpool—sits down and joins us.  Norman and Sylvia. He is a character.  She an angel.  They too walk to the beat of a different drummer, not liking being a part of the herd.

We arrive at the small town of Germersheim at 2 p.m.  All of those left behind from the Heidelberg trip line-up at the closed doors, ready to get off the boat and explore. The concierge tells us, “There is nothing there.”  Au contraire —we all beg to differ. It is a real town with real people, and only time enough for each of us to barely touch.

Day 7 – Breisach

Today is the last day of the cruise.  Impossible.  Once again they offer a day-long bus trip—this time to the Black Forest and a living museum in the form of a 16th-century village.  We opt out of the three-hour bus trip and the eight hour day. Off the boat we walk along a path bordered by both the river and a green leafy park.  We meet couples wheeling strollers; the babies fast asleep.  Several couples pass us up, then small groups of people. “Michael it looks like they know where they are going.  They are all in a hurry.”

We follow at a leisurely pace, scaling the hill that leads to the church towering over the town. The view is wonderful.

Michael walks one way and I walk the other heading for a tiny café and a glass of wine.  The wine consumed, we head for the interior of the church.

I have been madly clicking away trying to decide which setting will work in the gloomy surroundings.  I stand at the back, taking pictures of ancient frescoes; Michael taps me on the shoulder and points to a sign. I quickly deposit my phone in my purse and just enjoy looking.

Winding our way back down the steep hill we decide on a late German style lunch—we need to have at least one.   We choose a café with a sunny outdoor area where we grab a shaded table out of the wind. The menu is all in German—as it should be—but I have no bars, no 4G and no WIFI on my phone. Thus I have no Google Translate.  I am on my own.  I recognize schnitzel, pommes frites and salat.  That is what I order.

We have one more five-course dinner to endure, and I say endure because it has become tedious.  All that food (even though the portions are reasonably small) and all that noise, and all that trying to have a conversation. Everyone complains.

Day 8 – Basel, Switzerland to Barcelona, Spain

I wake to darkness. Our bags have to be packed and outside the cabin door by 8:30 a.m.  I look at the clock on my phone, then set the timer for thirty minutes.  Snuggling back into the covers.

We dock in Switzerland as I wake the second time.  Two and a half hours to shower, dry my hair, get dressed and finish packing four suitcases—none of them large—and that is the problem.  We work in one more indulgent cruise breakfast. I have discovered I like bacon that is not crisp.  Maybe it is the bacon and not the cooking method.

We are out of the cabin at nine and take up residence in the ship’s lounge, waiting for seven hours to pass.  Our taxi does not arrive till 4 p.m.  Our plane departs for Barcelona at 6:30 p.m.  I explain to Michael it wasn’t poor planning on my part.  We docked too late to take the early morning flight and this is our only option.

At eleven o’clock the new passengers begin to board. Our cruise director said the entire boat will be filled with people from Puerto Rico.  Things get noisy—it seems everyone knows everyone.  We escape once more to our two chairs on the bow of the boat and nap and lunch and nap and read.

The day drags. I’ve never had a day drag—this is what it feels like.

It is 3:50 p.m., time to go down and remind Simone that it is our luggage she has been babysitting all day long and make sure the taxi doesn’t leave without us.

The drive through Basel is less than impressive.  I am sure the taxi driver has not taken us on the scenic route.  I do not feel Switzerland at all.