Staying In Touch

As we shelter at home, we can’t help but think of all the people with whom we’d like to be spending time. Recently that thought prompted me to track down email addresses and write a common letter to nearly 100 people we’ve met over the years on cruises. I thought I would share it with all of you as well.

If you are one of nearly 100 people receiving this letter from Robert Tieman and me, it’s because we’ve met somewhere over the years on a cruise and we made a connecting bond. And we thought this was a good time to stay in touch.

During this month, Robert and I were originally scheduled to be on a 28-day cruise to Tahiti and back. Instead we’re home, and I’ve been reviewing old scrapbooks and doing repairs. In the process, I’ve been reminded of all the wonderful people we’ve met (we started cruising in 1984) and how much each of you have enriched our lives.

I thought I would reach out to all of you at once and say “thank you.” Some of you ate dinner with us every night (in one case, for 90 days!). Others were our teammates as we won trivia games—and, yes, we’ve made for pretty good teams over the years. Some were members of nightly LGBT cocktail parties, or great entertainers we met on the ship. And, in one case, it was because we took pity on a sweaty hiker and gave her our last bottle of water. Whatever the case, we’ve loved it. We hope we continue to cross paths and share news.

Over the past few days, we’ve become addicted to the news of the remaining cruise ships seeking a port for shelter. We were so happy when both Ken and Fred and Rabbi Bob and Sheila were able to disembark the Amsterdam in Perth and fly back to Fort Lauderdale and Los Angeles, respectively.  We worried about Storm and Carrol Ann when the Maasdam was prevented from entering Hawaiian ports but the ship has finally docked in San Diego. We wish Charlie godspeed on the Seabourne Sojourn as it crosses the Pacific. And we track Dennis and Alex as their ship Amadea sails the Atlantic homeward bound to Germany.

That’s the thing about cruising. It made the world our family. Now we keep tabs on people in the Netherlands, Australia, Germany and Canada.  We savor long lasting memories of people in places as disparate as Sri Lanka, Mumbai, Singapore and Jordan. I even got to know a dentist out of necessity in Athens. (I could have skipped that one.)

I couldn’t find pictures of all of you, but I’ve attached this mosaic of many. We wanted to let you know (if you didn’t already) that when Robert and I retired several years ago, we moved to a small coastal town in Central California called Cambria.  This village is at the south end of the world-famous Big Sur highway. It’s just miles from Hearst Castle, down the coast from the giant elephant seal rookery at Piedras Blancas, and borders some of the finest vineyards in California in nearby Paso Robles.

So when this is all over, and we’re traveling once more, maybe we’ll see you on a cruise ship. On the other hand, maybe you’ll be exploring our part of California on a land trip, and we hope you let us know so we can meet up once more.

If this pandemic puts you in the mood of apocalyptic novels, an interesting one is The Brief History of the Dead by Kevin Brockmeier. It reminds us that we exist not only in our physical selves but in all the minds of those we have met and known. Somehow it gives me strength to rekindle all the memories that live in me and to think again of all the people like you with whom we share those memories.

Thanks for indulging our outreach.  We hope all of you and your loved ones are healthy and that you find this time of isolation and slowing down also a time to reflect and grow.  Take care.

Since writing the letter, we were happy to learn that the Amadea has safely reached Germany.  Also, the Zaandam and the Rotterdam (on which we once sailed 90 days) were allowed to disembark passengers at last in Ft. Lauderdale. But for many crew members on cruise ships, life is still in limbo.

After sending that note, Robert and I have heard from so many of our cruise acquaintances. We’ve been told more than one horror story about trying to get home from a stranded cruise. Nevertheless, overall, hearing from old friends really has been a positive moment in a dreary time. I’d encourage all of you to take this time of worry as an opportunity to reach out and reconnect.

My Land-Bound Cruise . . . Travel in the Time of Covid-19

Right about now, we were expecting to be packing for a month-long cruise from San Diego to Tahiti and back. We would have been leaving Saturday.

Obviously, that’s not happening. Instead, we are now part of the 65-plus crowd in California that has been asked to stay at home and self-isolate. I’m all for flattening the curve. Still, mentally, I need to get myself into a different place—a more optimistic spot.

Since I live so close to the ocean, I have decided to think of the weeks ahead as a shore-bound cruise.  (Considering how many of our friends would consider a month on a cruise ship with tons of sea days torture under any conditions, maybe a month of forced solitude on shore for us won’t be so bad.)

On the plus side, we will have a verandah view room for this adventure, since our house has ocean-facing decks.  And just like on a cruise ship that’s moving, the wind is usually too much to enjoy sitting on deck and watch the ocean.

As for our daily shipboard routine of walking the promenade deck for a mile or two, we can still venture outside for a walk along the beach. There’s no one there, and we could probably practice a social distancing of 60 feet, or even 600 feet, without breaking a sweat.  And I can still do a ton of reading, which is always one of my main cruise activities.  I have downloaded many e-books, and made a final run at the local library’s used book store for their one-dollar paperbacks.

Of course, I know how to open a bottle of wine or shake a martini, so there’s no reason to bypass our shipboard habit of a cocktail before dinner. And even though we’re well-stocked for cooking, I think we’ll take advantage as much as practical and as long as possible of our local restaurants offering special delivery menus. It will add interest to our lives, and help local jobs survive this challenging time.

Our first home-delivered meal . . . Indian Lamb Curry from Robin’s Restaurant

On the other hand, there will be no way to end the evening with attending whatever entertainment is in the ship’s showroom.  But, by coincidence, I recently broke down and signed up for Amazon Prime . . . so we can always engage in binge watching.  Already we’re through the first season of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisal.

Which leaves one thing—interacting with people.  We do love dinner conversations and meeting new people on a long cruise.  We will need to work on staying in touch with friends and relatives in a more robust way over these days and weeks ahead. Or, maybe, Robert and I will just learn to talk more to one another.

Have I forgotten anything?  Oh, yes, visiting new places and seeing amazing sights. I guess I can read travel books, watch documentaries, prowl through space on Google Earth, and the like. But maybe I will devote some time each day to reviewing and repairing all my old scrapbooks. We have 35 years of cruises stored away in photos and memorabilia in deteriorating albums. That should keep me busy and remind me of what I’ve already seen.

So that’s my plan to stay positive.  I’ll let you know how it works.

 

Please check out all my novels in paperback or Kindle format, including:  Tales from the Loon Town Cafe, The Finnish Girl, The Devil’s Analyst—and my latest, The Long Table Dinner.

www.amazon.com/author/dennisfrahmann