Captain’s Log-Day 4. European Vacation.

Traveling in Relative Hell.

Today, in Norway, we took a cruise within our cruise to Lysefjord and Pulpit Rock. It’s a beautiful area, but the oil drillers and fisherman have a high rate of alcoholism, so the Betty Fjord Center was at capacity. In the city of Stavenger, I bought my Mom a sweater paying in kroners, so I either paid the equivalent of a herring farm or it may have been afyordable. In the marketplace, I heard a man running and shrieking “Oh my God, Oh my God.” His mom’s rascal scooter aka hoveround went off a curb dumping her on to the pavers. Using Viking strength, I sprang into action helping to lift his glacier of a mother, while he watched saying that he was so glad it was his mother and not his daughter and didn’t help at all. Turns out, trolls in Norway are not mythical creatures at all.

Captain’s Log-Day 5. European Vacation.

Traveling in Relative Hell.

Today, we were in Kristiansand, Norway; which apparently observes Bergen County’s Blue Laws, as everything was closed. The Norge all enjoyed their balmy 50 degree weather today wearing only 1 layer of wool and fur vs. the usual whale blubber and caribou skin coats. We’re traveling with Brits, of which the women either have their hair cut in Helen Mirren bob or the Queen Elizabeth frump. They all dress for dinner though, so Scott and I’ve been a bit undressed. In fact, he doesn’t want to go to the dining room on the next formal night less he be judged. Doesn’t he realize that Brits have gotten their revenge on rebelling Americans since the Boston Tea Party on by judging us on all that we do, i.e. American Idol, Kitchen Nightmare, America’s Got Talent, etc. Why is it that every reality show has a Brit that lets us know our talents don’t measure up staring at us witheringly with their stiff upper lips. Scott and I will be judged on the ship’s formal night’s show,”So you think you can dress for dinner”. I hope we make it to the Yorkshire Pudding Round. On to Oslo!

Captain’s Log-Day 6. European Vacation.

Traveling in Relative Hell.

Today, we were Oslo. Much like the Obamas vacationing yearly in Hawaii, apparently Santa comes a few hours South to Norway for his holiday. Initially, I thought Thor had gone to seed with the carb-laden cruise buffets, but Santa recognized my sister, Dev, as one of his former workers, so it was his jolliness. We spent time at the Viking Museum looking at the old ships, the Olympic ski jump, and the Vigneland Sculpture Park. Pictured here is the lesser known Olympic sport of naked children juggling. We passed the Noble Museum. Scott tried to persuade the tour guide that he should get the Noble Peace Prize for dealing with my family all week. Since his rage can melt icebergs, he was denied.

Captain’s Log-Day 7. European Vacation.

Traveling in Relative Hell.

We celebrated Independence Day on the Independence of the Seas in beautiful Copenhagen. Scott celebrated his independence by intentionally “losing” us in Tivoli Gardens. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark, indeed! When Dev was served a cheeseburger with a mustard and Lauren a yellow tarter sauce, their discomfort for a change to their condiments caused me to quote the Bard’s words for his melancholy Prince Hamlet, “There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, that can be found in your philosophy.” My pseudo-intellectualism wasn’t missed on Lauren, who quoted CSI Miami’s Horatio in return. Aside from Tivoli Gardens on Hans Christian Anderson Blvd where I saw Swans with Ugly Ducklings (spoiler alert! They grow up to be beautiful swans), we also did an awesome canal cruise, saw the Little Mermaid statue, and holiday-appropriately flaunted our independence to our British co-passengers. While I always enjoyed a good Danish, their city was one of the most beautiful I’ve seen. This Little Match Girl gives Copenhagen 5 Hamlets and no poor Yoricks

Captain’s Log-Day 8. European Vacation.

Traveling in Relative Hell.

Today is the end of our time in Scandinavia. We spent time in Skagen on a herring quest for my Mom. Although Yelp sounds like a seal’s way of asking for herring, asking for where to get herring resulted in many red herrings as we were not getting the right information. Finally, we found a fish market and my Mom delighted in her disgusting meal. After finishing, she told us that she could now die happy. Let’s hope it’s smooth sailing for her, as if I’m paying $20 daily for dial up speed internet, I can’t imagine what Royal Caribbean will charge for a Viking Funeral.

Captain’s Log-Day 9. European Tour.

Traveling in Relative Hell.

As we wrap up the cruise portion of the vacation, we saw this “beauty” at the art auction. As the owner of Quake, it was hard to allow ourselves to be outbid on such priceless art, but our bid of 50 cents was topped by a nickel by a visually impaired guest, who thought he was bidding on a cotton ball. If the medium of the art was black velvet or towel art, we might have bid three figures going up to $1.37.

As a trip first, Lauren asserted her independence by ordering her own meals nightly instead of Dev convincing her to “share” the 2 choices that Dev wants. This resulted in Dev ordering and sending back more food than our waiter ate in his whole life in Mauritius. I’m sure he muttered about her ordering everything “on the side,” as he sat down at the end of his 16-hour workday to his 6 fish heads and a bowl of rice. All in all a good cruise.

Captain’s Log-Day 10. European Vacation.

Traveling in Relative Hell.

We are back on land in Bloody ol’ London. Today, we started out at the Winston Churchill War Rooms viewing what life was like in his bunker. Strangely, it took me back to this past week that Scott and I were crammed into small living quarters with my Mom and sisters. Sure Churchill and his ministers endured the bombing of London and the blitzkrieg while holed up underground, but we had to endure nightly dinner time entertainment like the baked Alaska dance; which is suspiciously like the waiters from 55 countries promenade. (Of course, in Bratislava, Algiers, Latvia etc., the ship’s bunker-like quarters are known as the Presidential Palace in their guttural languages). Much like Churchill and the Brits dealt with famine and food shortages as they mapped out their strategies, we had to wait at least 47 minutes between shipboard meals and once they even ran out peppercorn sauce for the beef. We next went to high tea where my Mom and Dev ate sandwiches that match the skin tone of most Brits. It’s hard to think that the revolution started over some soggy Tetley tea bags. Next, we were off to Harrod’s shopping and food hall. Everything looked so unique and tasty that Lauren almost ate a tote bag by mistake. It took six Bobbys and the jaws of life to extricate Dev from the designer purse section. Scott’s last day is tomorrow, as he will leave our “bunker” a day ahead of us unless he gets Stockholm Syndrome and stays. Having left Norway and Denmark, it tends to be a diluted version of the syndrome so instead of identifying with one’s captors, Scott will likely just volunteer for another cruise with in-law Jews.

Captain’s Log-Day 11. European Vacation.

Traveling in Relative Hell.

I started my day realizing that since I didn’t pack a full tube of toothpaste and have been sparingly using the squeezed out remains of my Crest flattened tube that I’m in serious peril of being identified as a native Brit, as my chiclets are starting to take on an English cheddar teeth hue. We started the day on the Thames on a river cruise taking in all the sites. We saw Big Ben, but that’s only what they called the large gay man in the assless chaos marching in the London Pride parade. He kept asking Scott if he’d like to see his clock tower. London was packed in celebration of Pride. While I fully support and am happy to celebrate lifestyle choices, after being stuck in cab for 1 1/2 hours, I wished I had shown my support at the Lancaster, PA Pride Parade instead. (That one is basically meeting an Amish guy who had a gay waiter while on Rumspringa and raising a rainbow colored barn). We enjoyed Borough Market and Covent Garden. Those crazy Brits didn’t even have a garden there or a big top at Piccadilly Circus. Fortunately, I was less literal with the bangers and mash. As he returns home tomorrow, Scott decided to stay closer to Heathrow at a hostile. It’s actually a Sheraton, but since his rage bubbles so ever present near the surface, his presence makes any hotel into a hostile. As for me, I look forward to sleeping on the diagonal in a King size bed (which is the closest Prince Charles gets to being King)

Captain’s Log-Day 12. European Vacation.

Traveling in Relative Hell.

Today was our last day of the trip, which we started watching the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace. Although we arrived early, it got crowded fast, but that was no deterrent for Dev using her injured knee and pushy demeanor to score a front row view for herself, while Lauren and I entered into the crowd olympics with people of many cultures. The Gold medal for elbowing and standing in others personal space goes to China, while we were no match for the Japanese Team, who easily walked away with the Gold for inserting their selfie sticks in other individual’s selfie space. Meanwhile, Dev (Hop-a-long Audacity) watched the happenings offering 3 inches of space at the fence to Lauren, who not being road kill that could fit flattened into that space, politely declined. All Lauren and I saw of the ceremony was one guard named Niles switching places with another named Roger, but for all we knew we might have been at a high school marching band competition. After going into Piccadilly, we saw a Beatles cover band in Trafalgar Square. Interestingly, I saw evidence of the 5th Beatle, who tried to blend into the background playing the keyboards shirking the mop-top wigs that his faux senior citizen bandmates wore. We closed the day at participating in a wheelchair exchange customary program, in which if you push a famous person in a wheelchair, a celebrity (Julia Roberts visiting Notting Hill) pushes your mom. Now for the long trek back across the pond. Cheerio for now!