Traveling With Sherry

Aboard the New Ruby Princess!

I was one of the lucky 2,000 agents invited aboard the Inaugural sailing of the Ruby Princess on November 6th.  Suffice it to say...the Ruby far exceeded my expectations.  Check back later this week.  I'll upload Ruby photos and my review.  Thanks for your interest!

Cruising with Regent - Fabulous, Dahling....

After an easier than usual two and one-half hour drive to Ft. Lauderdale down I-95, we arrived at the Port.  N.B. all the parking structures at the embarkation ports in Florida are now $15/day for parking.   You may want to investigate alternative parking options at nearby hotels and off-site airport parking lots. Going through the embarkation process was so smooth…in fact at 2pm, we were the only two people checking in.  With a recent Royal Caribbean mega-ship boarding only a couple of months prior still fresh in my mind, I was more than thrilled to be greeted by a no-line, no-wait check-in.  This ship at capacity will accommodate seven hundred passengers.  We were not sailing at capacity with less than six hundred guests expected on this cruise.

 

Unlike other commodity and premium cruise lines, lunch was served in the dining room from noon until 2PM.  It’s interesting because your cruise documents request that you do not get to the port prior to 2PM as that is the time that embarkation will begin.  Apparently not.  I missed a nice welcome aboard lunch and although the Lido Buffet was quite nice, it was not what I had expected.  N.B. if you are expecting an expansive buffet lunch on sailaway, it won’t happen.  The selection, while ample, doesn’t offer an expansive variety.  Hot dogs, hamburgers, salads, a fish filet and BBQ shrimp on a bun were the options.  I opted for the BBQ shrimp and a cold squid and (more) shrimp salad.  Both were tasty and colorful and after one Bloody Mary (all complimentary) I didn’t mind at all missing the dining room sailaway luncheon.  Next time I’ll plan to arrive at noon and enjoy the luncheon in the main dining room.

 

Back to the room to unpack, grab the life jacket at 5PM for the Muster Drill (which was after we sailed – a nice touch.  According to the SOLAS regulation, the Muster Drill may be conducted up to twenty-four hours after departure.  I like the idea of sailaway first then the Muster Drill.  Definitely good planning on Regent’s part.

 

At precisely 6PM a bell goes off and it’s time for the “Block Party” to begin.  It’s Regent’s idea of a meet the neighbors get-together and a terrific way to get to know who is living next door.  You are instructed to bring a wine glass from your room and someone comes around offering a choice of red or white wine and cheese squares on a toothpick.  I’d imagine that the higher the suite level (all staterooms are called “suites”) the better the Block Party snack.  After chatting with my neighbors and a resident cruise entertainer, the Captain made his rounds meeting and greeting everyone.  What a nice touch.  He’s French, very personable and has a good sense of humor.  This block party idea is awesome!

 

Time to change for dinner – open seating is wonderful.  We were headed to the Compass Rose, the main dining room, but upon seeing Latitudes, with an Indochina menu based on Vietnamese food with modern French cooking techniques we changed our minds and opted for this different dining venue.  Here you can order several entrees, served family-style. Among our selection were fresh Vietnamese egg rolls, lamb chops with a hoisin sauce and herbs, garlic shrimp and a vegetable in an Asian sauce.  The lamb chops were very good, wonderful flavor.  NB.  The first night of the cruise there is usually no reservation required for this restaurant. 

 

Of course, Regent is an all-inclusive cruise line so there is never a charge for the specialty restaurants or alcohol or bottled water or cappuccino…or almost anything.

 

The remainder of the evening was spent at the Welcome Aboard show featuring the Regent singers and dancers.  They are excellent.  For such a small cruise line and small ship I wasn’t expecting much.  The entertainers gave it their “all” and yet another “Music Through the Decades” show far exceeds their counterparts on the mega-cruise line.  I am looking forward to their Broadway review on Day Three.

Good-night!   

From Paris to Falmouth, England

Sept 11-12

Back on the bus for our two hour ride to the ship in Le Havre, I was sound asleep before the driver pulled away from the Eiffel Tower.  And I slept almost the entire way to the port.  Onboard, shower, change, dinner and watch the 10PM sailaway from Le Havre.  A short jaunt from the coast of France, one hour time change earlier, and tomorrow we would, if the weather held up, drop anchor offshore of Falmouth, in Cornwall, England.  This would soon become one of my favorite port calls. 

If you are not familiar with Cornwall, it is a small area of England with their own culture and heritage.  They are a seafaring people, quite friendly and hospitable.  And Cornwall is the home of the Cornish Pasty.  Sort of like a turnover with a very thick "handle" along one side, making it easy for the outdoor working man to eat a hearty lunch without getting his dirt-covered hands on the food. 

We only had five hours in port and the tender would take up nearly forty minutes each way included time spent in the queue to board.  Once ashore, I decided to not take a shore excursion (next time I will definitely take a tour as there is much to see and do outside of town).

A trip to St. Michael's Mount would have been my first choice for a shore excursion.  It is an old (so what isn't?) monastery about forty-five minutes outside of town.  When the tide is out, you can walk the river bed to the monastery. When the tide is in, a small boat conveys passengers back and forth.  Once at the monastery, you have time to walk the grounds.

I chose to walk the pavement in Falmouth.  Shopping is really quite terrific in Falmouth, very European-style clothing stores, not what I expected from a small town.  But the lure is the pasty, and I quickly devoured a very hot meat and vegetable pastie and a flavorful cup of Earl Grey tea.  By now it was time to start heading back to the pier.  Along the way, I stopped at the Falmouth Library where there was a kinetic art exhibit being installed.  Arrived at the pier, waited about 20 minutes for the first tender to appear and was back on the ship by 4pm.

We would sail out of Falmouth shortly thereafter, having to wait an extra hour for a few of the shore excursion buses to catch up. 

Mais Oui, Paris!

Sept 11, 207

Two months before our Dover departure, I had made for myself what seemed like a fairy tale luncheon reservation at the restaurant aptly named Altitude 95, in the Eiffel Tower.  In case you are not familiar with Altitude 95, it is as the name describes, 95 meters above ground level. About, what, 300 feet up? Not a problem for this non-air traveler.I made my Sunday lunch reservation with every intention of sitting solo next to an oversized picture window gazing out over the Parisian cityscape while sipping a perfect Sauvignon Blanc along with my 4 course prix-fixe dejeuner. Hah. I did not factor in a late arrival in Le Havre, too many people on too few buses to make the 2 hour pilgrimage into Paris nor the crowds at the Eiffel Tower which were a result of the finish line for a major running race through the streets of Paris. Every two-way street leading to the Eiffel Tower and our drop-off point were changed to one-way streets to accommodate the runners and not the meandering of American tourists.  After a one-hour delay in finding a bus parking point, it became clear that my much-anticipated 12 noon reservation was long taken by another more lucky tourist or Frenchman.  Time to put Plan B into action, only there wasn’t a Plan B.  In my mind, I would have finished my Parisian repast and slipped quietly into a taxi to be taken to the Rue St. Honore, the shopping and fashion boulevard in Paris…or at least one of the fashion streets.  There, I’d had plans of strolling along the street, looking into the windows of Chanel, Hermes, St. Laurent, envisioning myself in the beautiful and yet stylishly-odd fashions of the noblesse oblige.  Not going to happen this trip, I reminded myself as I opened my map to chart my walk.

Setting out for a walk along the Rive Gauche (as my high school French reminded me) or the Left Bank of the Seine to non-Francophiles, I opened my small, over-creased map and began my trek to the Louvre.  Lunch, it seemed, would have to wait.  The weather for mid-autumn in Paris, or anywhere for that matter, was absolute perfection.  Eighty degrees, brilliant blue sky and a slightly brisk breeze, just to remind you that winter was not too far away.  Not knowing that we’d have this warm weather, I was dressed in long pants, a layer of t-shirt and fuzzy light blue sweater and a back pack holding my too-heavy camera and squashed-up light blue (to match my sweater) flannel-lined wind breaker, and a liter of bottled water, French of course.  I could have purchased a ticket for the Seine River Cruise luncheon boat, or the Bato-Bus (should be spelled “bateaux” by normal French standards) which is really a “Ho-Ho” boat (Ho-Ho is the affectionate acronym for the Hop-On Hop-Off buses throughout Europe. But I decided that I would be more pleased with myself to be able to recall my trek to the Louvre.  Walking along the  Seine, the trees losing more leaves with each gusty breeze, reminded me of and had me humming a paraphrased version of Maurice Chevalier’s “Every Little Breeze Seems to Whisper Louise” from Gigi to my version; “Every little tree seems to lose all their leaves”.  Funny what being in Paris  can do to the mind. 

Suddenly out of nowhere, I was seeing identical bicycles with identical contraptions mounted on the handlebars. Finally, after seeing several dozens of these bikes all being ridden by smiling happy people en route to somewhere, I gathered up my courage and my best high school French and said, “Excuse moi, ou est le bicyclette rentals?” Parisians, I soon learned, were among the nicest people I met on my vacation. Don’t believe all that anti-French prattle spouted by homophobic Americans. I found that if you greeted someone with courtesy in the manner which they were accustomed, you would get a like response in kind. Everyone pointed in the direction of the bicycle rental facilitiy, “C’est la!” they’d reply, and remount their bicyclette and pedal off. Four miles and one hour later, I still never found the bike rental stands so accurately pointed out to me. Actually, I did see one….but it was across the bridge and I figured, heck, there’s bound to be one on my side of the road. There was not. I made it, tired, hungry and roasting beyond belief, to the famous Louvre. There, on the rive side of the former palace, was an outdoor café. approached the hostess, and asked in my best-ever French if there was a table for one. Non, she replied and pointed towards the line of tourists and Parisians who were patiently waiting in the hot sun to dine at the Louvre. But, she said, there is a Carosel where I could get lunch and it is in the Louvre, not along the side as was this café.

 

Of course as I always do, I started out in the wrong direction and ended up at the turnstile, underground, to the subway. Totally confused, I backtracked and found my way to the entrance to the museum, was backpack searched, scanned and xrayed and finally permitted entry to the world famous and infamous Louvre. In search of the Mona Lisa, I was not. I wanted lunch at the Carosel and I was going to find it.

The French language has a way of glamorized even the mundane. What the French call a Carosel, we bluntly call it a Food Court.

Yes, here I was at the Louvre, and I was schlepping a plastic tray along the aluminum railing of the food court counter. After choosing a roasted chicken and cheese covered zucchini, a bottle of Evian and several napkins, I grabbed up my Euros and set out yet again, to find an empty table for one. There were no screaming enfants to disturb my meal, only museum patrons in search of a quick and somewhat inexpensive meal. I was hungry so I quickly blocked out the desire to dawdle and tried to overhear bits and pieces of conversational French and finished my chicken and vegetables in no time at all. 

In horror, I looked at my watch. My bus was scheduled to depart from the drop-off point at the Eiffel Tower in two and one-half hours. Since the walk over took a good hour, I was certain that the return walk would take at least that long, considering I still hadn’t taken all the necessary photographs. Searching out the Mona Lisa would have to wait until my next trip to   Paris. It was time to leave and make my way back, without a trail of breadcrumbs to follow. Not necessary here. One only needs to glance upwards, spot the Eiffel Tower head towards the Seine and move forward. I would simply follow the river back to the bus.

Aboard the Celebrity Constellation

Sept 15, 2007

Sail-away was interesting to say the least. About 250 devout readers of Cruise Critic were onboard and had planned a 5pm sail-away party at the Sunset Bar aft. I showed up, having been “recruited” by one of my clients from   San Francisco.. I’m in a wonderful business. Because of the internet, I have clients from all over the world and most I have never met.  Doris  would be an exception…I’d actually get to meet a client that I have “known” for almost 7 years. There she was…exactly as I pictured her from a tiny little headshot on Cruise Critic. Effervescent, entertaining and not looking one day older than --, I finally met the elusive  Doris. Or Dorass as she preferred to call herself. Sister to Jack and Fat, she continually gained friendships while casually working the “room”. Unfortunately, I would rarely run into  Doris during the next 12 days as our dining times differed and our ashore schedules did not coincide with each other’s plans.

Shortly after sail-away, under a brilliant blue sky complimented by the stark white cliffs bordering our exit towards the sea, I made my way back indoors to learn my way around the ship as quickly as possible. This ship certainly was not as large as the Queen Mary 2 nor as compact as the Celebrity Century, my former ome-away-from-home, but the Constellation certainly was a lengthy vessel. Making the walk from my forward-most cabin on deck 7 to the aft staircase a 300-pace trek. If the Japanese have the motto, “10,000 Steps a Day” equals 5 miles, then I certainly could expect to easily walk 2 miles just going to and coming from the Sunset Bar/Lido Restaurants. Let’s narrow that down to just the restaurant, please.

When 8:30pm approached and it was time to make our entrance into the dining room, I met my tablemates and best friends at the entrance approximately 10 minutes prior to being permitted entrance into the dining room. Why the 10 minute lead time every night and every morning, I’ll never understand. But the other two couples that I travel with always plan on that arranged schedule. I finally decided to make my future dining room entrances shortly after everyone else is seated. It was explained to me by another well-cruised couple that all you do is patiently sit at your table for ten minutes anyway…may as well be doing something else until it is time to be handed the evening’s menu and unfolded napkin.

After the perfunctory “Hello, I’m Adi, your waiter” introduction, we proceeded to enjoy our first dinner at sea en route to Le Havre, the gateway port city to Paris, France. The seas across the  English Channel  were quite calm, maybe in quiet contrast to what was to befall us 6 days later. The Welcome Aboard show in the main theater began at 10:45 so as soon as dinner ended, we parted from the dining room with a commitment to meet (what I affectionately call, “homesteading”) at 10:15  to secure the best seats in the theater. The show came and went; a brief glimpse at what we could expect for the next 11 nights of the cruise: a very talented performance group of singers and dancers, a ladder-climber, a world-reknown whistler, yes, whistler, an adage couple to absolutely wow you with their Cirque de Soleil style acrobatics, a magican, comedian…you get the picture.

Calling it an early night, at approximately midnight, I said goodnight to my four closest friends and headed back to my cabin. Time to regroup and reconfirm my plans for tomorrow, in  Paris.  Bon soir!

Cheerio and Ta Ta to the UK

September 15

Earlier than expected, our driver, June, showed up with her mini-van to take us to Dover. Between the five of us we had at least twenty pieces of luggage. Organizing all of our suitcases jigsaw puzzle-style into the mini-van was a feat unto itself yet again. In a few minutes we were on the road for a one hour drive to the famed White Cliffs of Dover. I had gotten used to this right-hand driving, stepping off curbs looking to the right.    France doesn't do this and I hoped I could adjust to the new traffic pattern.The approach from the highway into Dover is quite the sight. Looming over the port, there is  Dover Castle sitting high upon a hill, with the famed White Cliffs as a backdrop. Although there probably was enough time, no one wanted to chance missing the ship by spending an hour visiting what many say is the best, non-commercialized castle in  England.  Oh well, it’ll have to wait until my next visit. Some people say, “You’ve seen one castle, you’ve seen them all.” Not so for me. I hope I never become so jaded that the incredibly historical becomes yawningly mundane.

Boarding an American-owned vessel in a foreign land does not necessarily equate to emulating the good manners of that country. After 11 days of being among the Brits, I was enjoying the politeness and friendliness of everyone that I encountered. Although a bit restrained at times, everyone I came into contact with was always courteous and helpful. The only bit of pushiness I found was boarding the local bus in London at rush hour.   It was excusable. Pushing and cutting in line at the port for embarkation, being in the throes of nearly two thousand Americans all tired and hungry from their transatlantic flight, was more than I was prepared to handle. I was hoping that this was not a vision of the next 12 days.

As soon as I set foot on the Constellation, I immediately felt at home. Unlike many other luxury and premium cruise lines, Celebrity greets you with a glass of champagne and actually escorts you to your stateroom if needed. This being my tenth or twelfth sailing with Celebrity, albeit my first on the Constellation, I had the comforting feeling of finding familiar faces among the staff onboard. I’ve kept in touch via email with a lovely person in charge. I first met her when she was with Guest Services on the Century. She is now the Event Coordinator onboard the Constellation. Her name is Ngawhira and I have known her for almost three years. Whenever I bring a group onboard one of her sailings, she always goes above and beyond what is expected. This voyage will prove no different. I have twelve more people joining me in Dover and I will, with Ngawhira’s help, host a get-together cocktail party for twenty-one passengers within the first few days of the cruise.

When you step aboard the Constellation, you can’t help but notice the quiet elegance and muted ambiance of the Grand Lobby on Deck Three. Not “Atrium-ized” as many ships are today, it is a one-floor lobby, with a warmly lit, brass-railed grand staircase leading up to the next deck of public areas. There are four glassed elevators, two of which provide a panoramic view of the ocean up to deck 9. Definitely not for the weak-kneed or agoraphobic!

I proceeded to my stateroom by 2PM and lo and behold! My luggage had arrived. Without wasting a moment and before I was to meet my four close friends for the luncheon buffet, I set out to totally unpack my belongings and settle in as quickly as possible into my new quarters. Within 20 minutes my territory was marked with my various and sundry belongings, including more electronics than you can imagine someone would lug on a trip, and I was off to the Lido Buffet for my first non-English meal in twelve days. Did someone say cheeseburger?

 

 

One Last Day in England....Oh Pooh!

Sept 14, 2007

After four beautiful warm, sunny days in England, we spent one last night in the very charming village of Forest Row, at a five hundred year old coaching inn, the Roebuck Hotel.  Commonly known to the literati, Forest Row is known as the home to A. A. Milne, creator of Winnie the Pooh. Lying just between our five hundred year old hotel and the nearly medieval town of Forest Row, is the famous Forty-Acre Wood in which “resides” Winnie the Pooh, Christopher Robin (a character based on A. A. Milne’s own son), Eeyore, Piglet, Kanga and Roo. One could spend a week exploring the woods, visiting A.A. Milne’s restored house, and every endearing place in the Forty-Acre Wood tale.  So much to do there, in fact, that I am planning a Winnie the Pooh tour back to Forest Row in 2008.

Having worked up an appetite from exploring Forest Row all day, we returned to the Roebuck and enjoyed a pint of Guinness at a patio table out front of the hotel. It was a picture-perfect late afternoon; the air was still warm and as the sun set behind the pine trees, you could feel the cooler air from the forest slowly replacing the afternoon’s warmer temperature. An hour later, we were seated in our own private area of the dining room (were they trying to tell us something?) and we managed to polish off yet another tasty fish and chips dinner.  Desserts are especially delicious in England - we made it through all sorts of Crumbles, Pies, Tarts, Clotted Creams and cheeses - so after polishing off another million calorie finale, we decided to retire early to repack for the next and last leg of our transatlantic journey.

London Derriere and Forest Row

Sept 12 2007

After the best night’s sleep in ages and following yet another nine thousand calorie English breakfast, we bounced our thirty-four suitcases down the stairs of the Castle and Ball hotel in Marlborough and climbed into our van for the 2 hour jaunt to London. Traffic was pretty good so by 11am we were checked into our rooms at the John Howard Hotel in Kensington, ready to take on the town.  I highly recommend this hotel.  It is located on Queen's Gate, one-half block off the main thoroughfare, Kensington Road, and absolutely lovely.  (See my photos of the property on the sidebar under "London"). Unlike our last 600 year old hotel, this hotel had an elevator!  The hotel was very clean, the staff extremely friendly and I would stay there again without hesitation. Before we put on our roaming shoes, we wanted another eight-thousand calorie English lunch. How the Brits stay so slim is beyond me. One member of our group found a delightful pub aptly named The Goat – all "kidding" aside – it was quite nice. Despite the oft-repeated phrase, “Guinness in the UK is totally different than in the States” I found that it is served just as cold and tastes exactly the same as in our local Irish pub in Florida.  Oh...one difference in US vs. UK  traditional pubs:  You are expected to place your meal/drink order at the bar and then find a table and wait for your order to come up at the pub counter.  We found this out after waiting oh...about 25 minutes. 
 

After lunch, we walked the short distance back to the John Howard to slightly unpack for the next three days. I decided it would be easier to live out of a suit case for three days than unpack into the closet mainly because my entire room WAS a closet! I have never seen such a small hotel room in my life….if it was 8x12 I would be surprised. It was neat, clean and my room actually overlooked Queen’s Gate street but it was tiny. The free wifi made it bearable as did the first floor location read: second floor by European standards.. Everyone else had grand-sized rooms, huge bathrooms and sitting areas. Not me. This room was hilarious – but I still would recommend it to anyone traveling alone with a very light load. Getting in the shower was a feat unto itself…I had to turn side-ways to sidle into the two-foot square shower. Water pressure, however, was awesome, as it was throughout the U.K. And the bath towels!  The bath towels in England compare to what we in the States call bath sheets.  Enough about my room. I would heartily recommend the John Howard Hotel – it has an elevator, restaurant on premises and includes a complete 900 million calorie English breakfast, is walking distance to the buses, Kensington Palace and Gardens, restaurants, pubs, everything, Just be sure to not get Room 21 unless you are agoraphobic!  Three days in London was either not enough time or just enough time…I’m not sure. Probably I’d opt for 2 more days. I did manage to get last minute tickets to Les Miserables, tour Kensington Palace and Gardens, get to Greenwich to see the Maritime Museum and timeclock. I had lunch in Harrod’s, another Guinness at a true local’s pub on the River Thames, drove around Picadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square so I feel I did the correct tourist requirements. 
 

By day four, two in our group of nine had flown home, and two more were staying over in London for another day. Five of us were heading to Forest Row for one night in an authentic 600 year old coaching inn.  Only a short hour’s drive from London and we were checking in to the Forest Row Inn, just down the road from the town of Forest Row, on the edge of the Ashdown Forest – home to Winnie the Pooh and A.A. Milne. What an amazing little village and beautiful scenery. I could have spent 3 days here with the inclination to explore the Forty-Acre Wood in search of the House at Pooh Corner. There are tours and hiking paths throughout the forest for both nature lovers and literary lovers. The house of A.A. Milne is open to the public as are the once private grounds. But alas, we had only one day to spend and we spent it in the town of Forest Row. Once again, had a typical English luncheon washed down with a what else - Guinness, and just wandered into the little shops before boarding the local bus back to the hotel. Yet another place to revisit in the future.  Bright and early the next morning, following our leisurely English breakfast, the van arrived a few minutes ahead of schedule to take us to the third leg of our journey, to Dover, to board the Constellation for our 12-night cruise back to America, Bayonne New Jersey to be exact.

Destination: Marlborough

Sept 11, 2007

Salisbury Cathedral is a medieval marvel. (See photo in sidebar). Built over 700 years ago on veritable marshland using materials found hundreds of miles away, it is amazing to stand inside and gaze at the incredible architecture, stained glass artwork and mechanical equipment that could hardly be duplicated today. Our tour guide, Margaret, so old that she was probably on hand when the cathedral was being built, gave us a Reader’s Digest condensed tour for forty-five minutes of what usually takes 2 hours. She was knowledgeable and funny, and had a real passion for sharing insider stories that took place over the years. To finish off, we had lunch in the cathedral restaurant, a true English eating establishment in which the nine of us Americans totally created havoc. “What’s this? How do you pronounce this? How do you eat this?” You get the picture. Finally we settled down, ate lunch, walked through the gift shop, conveniently placed, as they all are, with the exit door just past the cash register checkout.  Disney must have created a Universal Gift Shop placement plan. 

Onto Marlborough. By now we were all tired and anxious to get to our hamlet hangout for the evening. Marlborough, or Mar-brah as the locals called it, is another (so what isn’t in England?) medieval village, flanked by two spire-topped churches at either end of the main street. Our hotel, the Castle and Ball, was right there on the main drag, looking rather like a Disney-themed resort than a 700 year old coaching inn. Of the nine of us, 7 loved it and two did not. Apparently they preferred an American establishment complete with elevators and doormen. This did not have either. You see, elevators were not invented in the 1300’s and doormen were, well, replaced by the reception woman at the front desk and the hotel owner. Nine people and 34 pieces of luggage were finally in their rightful rooms. However, the stairs, narrow and off-kilter, led most of the group to the third floor. One thing about English hotels…the bathtubs are huge by American standards. All you need is a Styrofoam noodle and you could spend all day in there. Needless to say, I drew myself a hot bath right after dinner, before I tackled the computer and my long-awaited free wi-fi. I didn’t mention dinner. It was wonderful. Fish and chips all around, plus oxtail soup, sharing bread, Guinness, and bread pudding for dessert. Afterwards, we said goodnight, some went to walk outside past the quaint storefronts and pubs whilst I decided to call it a night. 

I’ve spent nine days to get to England and I wanted to rest up to enjoy the next four days. 

Jolly Old England - Day One of Five

Sept 10, 2007

On a sunny, warm September 10th at precisely 6 a.m. the Queen Mary 2 slipped quietly into her berth at her historic homeport in Southampton, England. Knowing that we would have a long morning of touring the English countryside, we ate a full breakfast upstairs at an unusually crowded King’s Court buffet. Not knowing that our English breakfast staples would be replicated for the next 5 days, we ate our usual eggs, baked beans, baked tomato halves, English sausage, hearty whole grain bread and coffee.

One of the most convenient aspects to a transatlantic crossing aboard the QM2 is the orderly immigration inspection taking place over the course of three days. What this means is that upon docking, all you have to do is claim your luggage and you are good to go. No long queues to wait and wait to get your passport stamped. So with this complete, all we had to do was look for the bus driver holding a sign with, “Sherry Kennedy’s Group” printed on it. Sure enough, there he was standing by his twelve passenger van, allowing plenty of room for our luggage. By 10 a.m. we and our luggage were loaded onto the van and off we went. 

The plan was to make a stop at ancient Stonehenge and spend time walking around and back into the van to the next destination. Simply put, Stonehenge was awesome. A six-thousand year old purpose-built rock pile and no one knows for sure why they were placed there, let alone how they were placed there. As our admission was pre-paid, we bypassed the line to purchase tickets, picked up our hand-held information speaker and off we proceeded to explore and learn about the massive granite formation.  An hour or so later, we were on the road to the medieval town of Salisbury – and the centuries-old Salisbury Cathedral.