ESSENTIAL EXPERIENCE 44

Posted by David Price

Director of Hotel Operations

From - August 23, 2011

A Second Home in Vancouver - Vancouver, British Columbia

Little did I realize then how much the city would capture such a special part of my life and eventually become part of me, particularly because it’s the hometown of my wife, Dawn.

David and his son, Jordan, with a beautiful view of Vancouver below.

If I ever left my heart in a city, it would have to be Vancouver. Like my wife, Dawn, Vancouver for me was love at first sight. This beautiful Canadian city has been the backdrop for some of my most cherished life moments and I anticipate many visits and meaningful experiences there in the future.
On our vacation this year, my family sailed from Whittier to Vancouver aboard Diamond Princess. It was somewhat sentimental for me as it took me back to when I first joined Princess Cruises as a seafarer, when I signed up for an Alaska season to work aboard the original Royal Princess for what I thought would be a brief six-month escape from my life in the UK. It’s now 24 years later (to the month) and I’m still happily working for Princess.
This recent voyage not only took me back to my first week at sea, but also reminded me of when I first fell in love with Vancouver. Standing on the top deck sailing under the Lionsgate Bridge past Stanley Park, I harkened back to a somewhat fresh but clear Saturday morning on August 8, 1987 when I first sailed into Vancouver on Royal Princess.
Little did I realize then how much the city would capture such a special part of my life and eventually become part of me, particularly because it’s the hometown of my wife, Dawn. We got married in Vancouver and now we travel there frequently with our kids Jordan (4) and Jenna (11 months). You could say, it’s our second home.

Canada Place, with Vancouver in the background.

I’d always been intrigued by the amazing friendliness and warm hospitality of the Canadians. After completing that first tour of duty, I took local leave and explored Canada from the West Coast to the East Coast using a student rail pass. It was in Vancouver that I met some local chaps who helped me map out my Canadian journey, giving me insider tips and must-see sights. After my amazing six-week trip, I knew one thing for certain–I wanted to go back to Vancouver. I felt so at home and connected to the people.
On our most recent trip, we made sure to experience a grand entrance into Vancouver, an amazing event in itself. Granted, it’s a very early morning for those who want to watch the ship’s final approach into Canada Place, but armed with a cup of coffee it’s really worth the 5:30 a.m. wake-up call. Vancouver easily rates as one of the world’s most scenic ports and sailing into the city reminds me of a fellow Englishman, Captain George Vancouver, who on June 13, 1792, was exploring the same Burrard Inlet just before his 35th birthday.
Admittedly Captain Vancouver’s two-year voyage from England took a little longer, as he had to take the scenic route via Capetown, New Zealand, Tahiti, and China. The city adopted his name in 1886.

Granville Island.

Today, it’s the fourth largest port in North America and major film production studios have now turned Vancouver into the third largest film production location in North America, after Los Angeles and New York. The city certainly lives up to its many accolades and has frequently been recognized as one of the top cities in the world in which to live.
As with many other West Coast locations, Vancouver experiences spectacular sunsets. One of the best spots for enjoying a scenic evening is at English Bay, in a restaurant or bar, or simply sitting on the beach. If you’ve really timed it right, make sure you’re there for the annual International Fireworks Competition, which is held in July and August.
That’s what we did in 2004 when, together with 100 of our closest family and friends….and a priest, I hired a boat to tie the knot with my amazing wife. After the ceremony we were all treated to dinner and a perfect view of the fireworks competition — a truly enchanting and memorable evening topped off with a rare blue moon. It was perfect!

David's kids, Joran (left) and Jenna, at the Vancouver Aquarium.

Now that Dawn and I have kids, with family and friends in Vancouver I’ve discovered there is plenty to keep all ages intrigued while exploring the city. Stanley Park, one of North America’s biggest urban parks, has six miles of sea wall that, regardless of the weather, is frequented by Vancouverites and visitors alike enjoying walking, jogging, biking, and skating. The park offers numerous choices of transport — a horse-drawn tour will drive you comfortably around the park, or you can walk it in three hours.
In the middle of the park we like to visit the Vancouver Aquarium and the Stanley Park Miniature Steam Railway — a particular favorite of Jordan’s, since as a typical lad he simply loves anything to do with trains. Whilst on the east side of the park, it’s always nice to sit on a bench and take a moment to enjoy the sights of Coal Harbour with its busy float planes or cruise ships gracefully entering and leaving the port. Following tradition, at noon every day the Heritage Horns sing out the first four notes of “O Canada” (Canada’s National Anthem), while at nine o’clock each evening the Stanley Park Gun (first fired in 1898) is sounded from the cannon perched on the sea wall.

David's wife, Dawn, with their kids Jordan and Jenna atop Grouse Mountain.

Just around the corner from Stanley Park are English Bay and False Creek, home of a favorite of our kids…Granville Island! The fun starts with a foot-ferry ride from False Creek to get to the Island. Once we’ve landed, the kids go wild at the Kids Market and Water Park & Adventure Playground, while parents can enjoy the market, a selection of stores, restaurants…or (my favorite) simply sit back and relax with a coffee as you are entertained by performances of the local street artists, or watch the water traffic sail by.
To enjoy a bird’s eye view of Vancouver, my favorite vantage point is Grouse Mountain. Located just 15 minutes from downtown, this peak offers spectacular views in summer or the snow of winter. It’s easy to get up to the summit by cable car, and at the top visitors can not only take in the scenery but can enjoy a great meal. Of course, if it’s winter…don’t forget your skis!!
It’s been 24 years since I first caught sight of Vancouver from the deck of a cruise ship. Today, as I think of all the city has given me and what it means to my family, I can’t think of a better place to stop and stay a while.

The view of Lionsgate Bridge with Stanley Park, left, cruising into Vancouver.

ESSENTIAL EXPERIENCE 43

Posted by Ophelia Drulis

Concession Agent

August 16, 2011

Unlocking a World of Wonder - Panama Canal - I was amazed at the efficiency of the whole transaction and I could sense Steven was in complete awe of this mechanical masterpiece.

Ophelia's shot of Crown Princess transiting the Panama Canal.

I always knew that my husband, an automobile mechanic, would be eager to visit the Panama Canal, a masterpiece of engineering and one of the so-called Seven Wonders of the Modern World. Before we had our three sons, Steven and I were in the habit of taking holiday-season cruises together, so when the opportunity arose to book a cruise to Panama, with stops in Colombia, Costa Rica and parts of the Caribbean, we took it. The year was 1997.
In a way, I thought of it as my gift to him, but it turned out to be one of the travel experiences I remember most. I did not expect to be so fascinated by the intricate series of locks and gates that make up the Panama Canal and equally as touched by some children I met on one of the San Blas islands there. Truly, Panama was a revelation to me.
I had read in school about the long and arduous history of man’s quest to join the Pacific and Atlantic via the narrow, 40-mile-wide Isthmus of Panama. I must have imagined that the Panama Canal would be a trench-like passageway, a muddy river of sorts, connecting the two oceans.
I had seen a documentary recapping the punishing, dangerous and seemingly impossible work entailed in cutting through a mountain range and even a portion of the Continental Divide, hacking through dense jungle, navigating the tides of the powerful Chagres River and battling mosquitoes that brought the devastation of yellow fever and malaria with them.
This was man vs. nature at its fiercest. It was a Herculean odyssey that defeated the initial team of investors from France and challenged the Americans who ultimately completed the canal.

A ship in the locks of the Panama Canal.

As hard as it was to reconcile the efficient system in place today with the chaos and hardship of a century ago, the knowledge about the building of the canal is what makes it such an enriching experience.
We boarded Crown Princess in Fort Lauderdale, and after a few days at sea we arrived at the Panama Canal.  It was a little surreal, because Steven and I were hanging out by the side of the pool, in complete vacation mode, as our ship entered the first of the three Gatun Locks. Excitedly, we made our way to the railing to get a closer look at what was happening.
Crown Princess entered what looked like a giant pool that then filled with water; you could see the gates open and the water pour in. As we rose to reach the next level of the Canal, the gates opened and our ship eased into the next lock, where the process was repeated once again. It was like being in an elevator. I was amazed at the efficiency of the whole transaction and I could sense Steven was in complete awe of this mechanical masterpiece.
Large ships are not allowed to power through the locks themselves. Instead, they are towed by electric locomotives, or “mules.”

A close-up of the mechanical marvel of the Panama Canal.

After the third lock, Crown Princess had been lifted 85 feet above sea level to reach Gatun Lake. At Gatun Lake, our ship reversed course and we went back through the same portion of the canal, back toward the Caribbean. Had we continued on to the Pacific, the whole process could have taken the better part of 10 hours, depending on ship traffic.
From there, we stopped by one of the islands in Panama’s San Blas Archipelago. The San Blas islands are run by the Kuna Indians and their economy, language, specific culture and customs thrive there. Besides the fact that the particular island we visited had a breathtaking beach, what captured my heart were the children who flocked to meet us after we docked.
I did not expect to be reminded of my own childhood on a tiny island in San Blas. This trip was turning out to be full of surprises. As the children of San Blas ran up to us selling beaded necklaces, shell jewelry and sweet little wooden boats that they had made, my mind flashed back to my own childhood in Trinidad and Tobago.
You could say finances were tight…we were poor.  In an attempt to have a little extra, my mother used to make candy and sell it at my school during recess. I was not embarrassed at all, in fact, I’d always join her in selling sweets to my friends. You do what you have to do.
But when you are a child, you feel you’re the only kid in the world who has to work this way. Here in a remote island of San Blas, I was reminded that there are needy children all over, in every part of the world, who do what they can to provide for their families. I was truly touched beyond belief.

The children of San Blas.

I came home thinking of the endearing nature of the children of San Blas and the mechanical marvels of the Panama Canal.
This was a trip that satisfied both Steven and me, and one of our last together before we started our family. It’s been 14 years since we went to Panama and now we have three boys: James, 12, Michael, almost 11, and Nicholas, 7. Vacations are no longer romantic breaks for two…we travel as a pack.
I just know that we’ll be back to Panama before long, where our sons—one shows signs of becoming an engineer—will be amazed to see this wonder of technology and perhaps meet a few children who are a lot like their mom used to be.

ESSENTIAL EXPERIENCE 42

Posted by Norma Serrano

Strategic Pricing Analyst

From - August 9, 2011

The Power of the Pyramids - Cairo and Giza, Egypt - Standing near the Great Pyramid, I felt this energy in a tangible, tingling way. I had never connected with a place like that before.

Norma, standing in front of one of the pyramids in Sakkara.

Some places take hold of your imagination and capture you from afar, conjuring curiosity and wonderment over oceans and continents. Since school days, Egypt has been that magical place for me.
It was the pyramids that initially seized my imagination. I had so many questions about them. Who built the pyramids? Why did they build them? Was it true that the pyramids were built by aliens?
As the ninth of 13 children, we did not have much. It seemed impossible that I would ever have the resources to see Tutankhamen’s treasures, the mighty Nile River and the Great Pyramid of Giza. But I made it happen, by studying travel and tourism and eventually working for Princess Cruises, where I have been fortunate enough to take some life-altering journeys.
My very first cruise was to the Amazon in 1989. Joining me on that trip and the 21 cruises that have followed, has been my mom, Hermelinda. Now 82, she has called our yearly cruises the education she never got. My mom grew up poor and was never formally educated; she never dreamed she would get to experience the wonders of the world first hand, and gain an extensive education in history, seeing the actual places where great events occurred. I have had such pleasure sharing that process with someone I love, and I treasure the opportunity to travel with her.

The gold mask of King Tut in the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in Cairo.

By the time we went to Egypt in 2008, mom and I were seasoned travel pros. We’d been to each of the seven continents, including Antarctica. I’ve found she is up for anything. No itinerary is too much for her. When the opportunity to take a Mediterranean/Aegean cruise came about, with Egypt a centerpiece of the itinerary, I rushed to book it. Egypt was special as we were both fascinated by that part of the world. The sophisticated ancient culture suggested by the pyramids and their magnificent contents drove our desire to go there.
Our cruise started in Rome but I couldn’t wait until we arrived in Alexandria, where we would board a motor coach and head to Cairo for two days of exploring some of Egypt’s most important sites.
Our first day in Cairo was highlighted by a trip to the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities. This is where King Tut’s most valued possessions, those he hoped to take with him to the afterlife, are kept. I had read about the boy king since childhood and remember my excitement when the riches from his tomb were displayed in the United States.
While I couldn’t see Tut’s treasures during any of the U.S. tours, seeing them in Egypt more than made up for it. Once at the museum, we headed straight for the Tutankhamen area.
I was curious to see the sarcophagus and detailed gold mask that rested over his bandaged head and shoulders. The gold mask, made of almost 25 pounds of pure gold, is unbelievable to see. It’s said that it was made in his likeness. The red quartzite sarcophagus is equally splendid, as is the solid gold inner coffin that actually contained his mummified remains. The everyday items, inlaid chests, statuary, gem-studded swords and carvings that were deemed essential for the afterlife were fascinating to see.

The majesty of the pyramids in Giza.

There is so much more to see in this museum, and we took time to admire some displays of beautiful, precious jewelry, stone carvings and hieroglyphic writings. I’m quite fascinated by hieroglyphics and got a cartouche of my name using those symbols at a jewelry shop in Cairo.
Meanwhile, my mom continued her usual travel shopping—she always buys something for every member of our (very large) family, filling up an extra suitcase every time.  And, as we both collected memories, my mom also collected a few rocks.  She picks up stones from every destination, and has built a three-foot wall in her garden, surrounding a Virgin Mary statue with the rocks she has brought home from around the world.
The next day, we got up early for a breakfast cruise on the Nile. I could sense an energy there that was like nothing I’d felt before. There is something mystical about this land. On board the boat, I let my mind wander momentarily, wondering what Cleopatra saw as she sailed along the Nile.
I was getting more and more excited as next we would tour some of the pyramids,  which are what really attracted us to the destination.
First we visited Sakkara, an ancient burial ground that was the necropolis for the citizens of the ancient city of Memphis. At Sakkara is the well-known step pyramid of six ascending levels, which was built for the pharaoh Djoser during the 27^th century BCE—older than King Tut, who came along in 1341 BCE.

Norma's mom, Hermelinda, standing in front of the Great Sphinx of Giza.

Next stop was Giza, the most incredible destination of all. The tour bus dropped us off at an overlook where you can see the site’s three pyramids and the sphinx in the background. We stood there in awe, admiring that postcard view. It was a hot day, but the walk was short to the pyramids themselves.
At Giza stands the Great Pyramid, one of the Seven Wonders of the World, built for Pharaoh Khufu around 2560 BCE. Standing near the Great Pyramid, I felt this energy in a tangible, tingling way. I had never connected with a place like that before. Something in the way these structures were built feels powerful and dynamic to me.
Next to me, my mom took notes in her little journal. Throughout this trip—any of our journeys for that matter—she takes notes in her journal. She doesn’t write much, just phrases and words that will jog her memory. Her job when she returns home is to report to the grandchildren about what she saw and that is quite a task as she has more than 50!
During those last moments at Giza, before we had to return to the bus and ultimately Star Princess, we drank in the majesty of the pyramids. Of the many pictures I took that day, none do them justice. You really have to be there to experience and feel the energy of this wonder of the ancient world.
In addition to the ancient wonders, I also found myself fascinated by the local culture.  We visited during the holy period of Ramadan, so while we were enjoying the local cuisine, our guides were fasting during the day.  We saw many people setting up tables outside to serve the evening meal where they would break their fast.

Norma's cartouche of her name in hieroglyphics.

But most of all, when I remember our visit to Egypt—indeed all of our travels—I feel so proud of my mom. I recall how when I asked my mom to go with me on that first cruise to the Amazon in 1989, she worried that the ship might sink. After that experience, I could see the light bulb going off in her head. Travel was wonderful for her, after a hard life raising 13 children, often desperate to make ends meet.  Travel has changed her life for the better.
Now, before each trip, typically a few months in advance, I call my mom to tell her what destination I’ve booked. From there, she starts conditioning, walking a little bit more each day, to prepare for the sightseeing ahead. We get excited, and it’s the excitement that keeps her young, I think.
Someday, with the passage of time, our adventures will no doubt be closer to home.  But for now, we love exploring the world.  In fact, we enjoyed Egypt so much, we had to return on another voyage a few years later—again, just me and my mom.

ESSENTIAL EXPERIENCE 41

Posted by Megan O'Toole

District Sales Manager

August 2, 2011

In Step with the Dutch - Amsterda, The Netherlands - I discovered a commonality, a deep-rooted sense of familiarity and sameness with the Dutch. It look me a long time to discover my heritage, but I found it in the Netherlands.

Megan, right, with her cousin Tjalda on their "little" bike ride in the countryside.

Amsterdam is a city of canals, historic row houses and freewheeling social policies that attract visitors from the world over. As I discovered, it’s also a city of very determined cyclists and committed distance walkers.
In October 2005, I traveled to Amsterdam for a few days to meet a wing of my family that I’d long heard of but never met. My second cousin Tjalda and her husband Albert lived in the southern part of the city. My grandfather was born in the Netherlands and was Tjalda’s great uncle. My mother was always telling me I should go meet my Dutch relatives-years later I finally made the trip from San Francisco to Amsterdam.
As I got off the city shuttle train from Schiphol Airport, hauling a heavy bag and giant roller suitcase, filled with finery for the cruise I would take after this visit, Tjalda met me…astride her bicycle with no more than a wicker basket for storage.
We shared a warm greeting­­—honestly, I felt like I knew her already—and continued to Tjalda’s house. As Tjalda wheeled her bike, I slowly walked the five blocks. One of the first things I noticed was that Amsterdam streets were filled with cyclists. They were everywhere and seemed to own the roads more so than the cars.
Tjalda’s house was a narrow, three-story row house in the typical Dutch style I’d seen in photographs.  Once inside, I noticed how modestly furnished it was. The Dutch have a reputation for frugality and my relatives seemed to live without unnecessary bells and whistles (which I love and admire).

A fish market in Amsterdam.

My luggage, alas, was still my millstone. Dutch row houses have narrow, winding staircases. It wasn’t worth dragging my heavy bags up to the third-floor guest room, so I plucked out what I’d need for the next three days and carried that up instead.
Tjalda and I chatted for a while about my grandfather who moved from the Netherlands to Colorado where my mother and, years later, I grew up. Tjalda’s brother had visited us there a few times, staying at my grandfather’s old miner’s cabin we keep in Ouray, Colorado, so she was familiar with the many stories about him.  A noted naturalist, landscape architect and author, my grandfather, M. Walter Pesman, has written a few books about native flora that are still in print.
While I spoke no Dutch and Tjalda halting English, we discovered we both love the outdoors and try to eat healthfully. Perhaps the roots of that love for what grows from the land and a desire to live simply lay with my Dutch grandfather.
That first day we walked to the market: a series of connected outdoor stalls, one selling fish, others with fruit and vegetables, flowers and cheese. I was amazed by the giant wheels of Gouda, some as big as truck tires, plunked on the counters for portioning.
Tjalda cooked the spoils of our market trip for dinner that night. The broiled fish and vegetables were the perfect healthful meal to restore my energy after my long trip. And I needed that strength for the next day. Tjalda tried to convince me to take a “little” 50-mile bike ride with her. While I love to hike and ride bikes, I didn’t think I had 50 miles in me, so we settled on a route that would cover about 30.

Traditional Dutch clogs.

Even though I am a long-legged 5 feet 10 inches, Albert’s bike was a little big for me so I felt a bit wobbly riding through the busy streets of Amsterdam. But the day was so beautiful, light and sunny, I soon learned to ride the streets like a native. To get out of town, we caught a free ferry at the Centraal Station and soon we were wheeling our way through the countryside.
We rode across the flat Dutch landscape alongside canals adorned with gliding swans, famous windmills, and miles of dormant flower and agricultural fields. As we approached the endlessly grey and choppy North Sea I felt exhilarated and recalled the country’s great reputation for shipbuilding and pioneering engineering that reclaimed viable land from the marshy coastline.
On our way back to Amsterdam, Tjalda convinced me to try a local specialty—herring. It’s a popular local delicacy to the point that it’s sold from street-corner carts like hot dogs in the United States. She told me about a 100-year-old lady who ate a herring a day and attributed her longevity to that.  I did have a few bites even though it was a bit out of my comfort zone and it was very salty.
The next day, Tjalda and Albert had to go to their jobs in The Hague, home to both the Dutch government and royal family, only 32 miles from Amsterdam. I left Albert’s bike at home and decided to walk my way through the city. I love to wonder around cities alone and see as much as I can.
The classic Dutch row houses, some as narrow as 25 feet across, compensate with height and character. I was charmed by the variations of stepped-front gables and scrolled tops.

One the beautiful canals in Amsterdam.

I took a canal boat ride and learned that these houses have hooks made for hoisting furniture up through the windows. Now I know how Tjalda and Albert furnished their upstairs rooms!
Having read “The Diary of Anne Frank” as a child, one of my first priorities was to visit the Anne Frank House. I found the lines outside quite long, so for future visitors I recommend buying tickets online to skip the wait. The cramped, claustrophobic rooms made me shiver to think of how frightening life here was for this young girl. Anne Frank wrote so beautifully about the majestic chestnut tree that stood outside the house. Life upon its top branches—be it dew, blossoms or  emerging leaves—became her link to the outside as she hid in the cramped attic. I looked out the same window at the same tree. And I was lucky to see it, as the old tree, rotten with fungus, fell in 2010.
I continued my walk, crossing the Keizersgracht, the Herengracht, the Singel—just a few of Amsterdam’s famed canals.  At that point, I stopped to ask a woman for directions and I realized that she looked a lot like me—fair hair, blue eyes, longish nose and almost six feet tall. As a matter of fact, I realized a lot of people in the Netherlands looked like me, which had never happened on my travels before.
When I returned back to Tjalda’s, we went to the market and bought preparations for our last dinner together. I had come to see that my mother’s suggestion to visit my Dutch relatives was an excellent one. I not only connected with Tjalda and Albert but discovered a commonality, a deep-rooted sense of familiarity and sameness with the Dutch. It took me a long time to discover my heritage, but I found it in the Netherlands.
The next morning, Tjalda escorted me to the train station. This time, I was relieved to note, we loaded my luggage into the family’s car and drove the five blocks.

Flying With Kids: A Survival Guide

Flying With Kids: A Survival Guide

Posted by: Budget Travel, Thursday, Dec 8, 2011, 2:13 PM

Ryanair's announcement of child-free flights earlier this year may have been just a joke, but the reality is that new fees and restrictions have made flying with children harder for many families. Here are some tips on how to prepare for a flight, navigate fees, and keep the whole gang happy along the way.

(Courtesy *CQ*/Flickr)

Booking Due to capacity cuts in the last decade, many planes consistently fly full. That means reserving a block of adjacent seats for a family can be difficult. The best advice is also the simplest: book your flight as early as possible. If nothing suitable is available, call the airline and make a request—airlines are hardly flush with cash at the moment and are certainly keen to keep your business. Unfortunately, sometimes there really isn’t anything an airline agent can do to help out. There’s still one possible recourse: unoccupied seats reserved for passengers with disabilities are often released just prior to a flight, so check back with your airline a few days before you’re scheduled to fly and see if any of these have opened up.
Check-In
Traveling with young children can mean lugging around strollers and car seats. Thankfully, one area in which airlines have retained some leniency is in gate-check fees for families. True, some airlines have eliminated the perk of free stroller checking, but others—including Delta, Southwest, Virgin, and JetBlue—place no restrictions on gate-checking strollers, and other airlines only restrict large non-collapsible strollers or those weighing 20 pounds or more. Many airlines also don’t count diaper bags in carry-on weight limits (call ahead to find out if that's the case for the airline you're flying).
There’s another hidden danger in the check-in process: switched seats. Due, again, to capacity constraints (and in some cases a plane substitution), some families find themselves separated even if they had originally purchased a block of seats. Airline agents may be able to remedy the situation, but sometimes the only way to reunite yourself with a child is through some old-fashioned seat-haggling with other passengers. Many flyers have been in the same situation and would be happy to accommodate your request—but at the other end of the spectrum, a few irritable passengers may show you nothing but spite for bringing children on the flight, regardless of how well mannered the munchkins are. In either case, always be courteous.

Finally, boarding: while families with children were once given boarding priority, the New York Times reports that this is no longer necessarily the case—first-class passengers are now the first to step aboard. To ensure smooth boarding, have everything prepared well in advance. Tuck extra items away into your carry-on, make sure the kids have finished up any open snacks, and guide them to their seats as efficiently as possible. Don’t be the scattered, inconsiderate parent holding up the rest of the passengers.

The Flight
So you’ve paid your fees, defended your block of seats against interlopers, and gotten your kids settled in with a minimum of fuss. Now all that’s left is the flight itself.
Again, the best advice is simply to be prepared. Pack games and treats to keep the children occupied. Make sure your distractions aren’t the kind that could cause an awkward mess on the seats (and other passengers). Electronic games are one option, but they may have to be turned off during takeoff and landing, so make sure your kids can handle the interruption without throwing a tantrum.
Long flights present particular problems for keeping kids interested. One solution is to pack a secret stash of games and candy and dole them out slowly over the course of the flight. The kids will love the surprises, and your fellow passengers will thank you for keeping things calm.
Food is another issue. Sweet treats are all right, but on longer flights you might want your kid to have something with actual nutrition, and airlines have cut back on cabin service for many routes. Prepare meals that can be eaten easily on a plane—trail mix, crackers, simple sandwiches—and that have a low risk of being strewn about the cabin due to turbulence at mealtime. Remember that some items (especially liquids) might not make it through security, and plan accordingly.

Lastly: keep in mind that everyone else is dealing with the stresses of air travel along with you, and rambunctious children can only make their experiences more excruciating. Letting your kids treat the plane as a playground won’t endear you to your fellow flyers—or to the flight attendants, who have their hands full without having to chase down your toddler—and it might just bring Ryanair’s “child-free flights” that much closer to reality.

Flying with children can be difficult, but it doesn’t have to be a calamity. With patience—and a few extra precautions—your flight can pass as smoothly as any solo trip.

Call Avant Travel 800-627-7260 or 859-233-0000

Courtesy - Budget Travel

ESSENTIAL EXPERIENCE 40

Posted by Stacy Souza

Director of Customer Relations

July 26, 2011

Falling in Love with India - New Delhi, Jaipur and Agra, India - The Taj Mahal is something most of us have seen in pictures, but not until you stand beside it and look closely at its intricate detail and massive size do you truly appreciate the beauty of this monument of love.

Stacy, at Agra Fort with the Taj Mahal in the background.

When I first joined Princess Cruises many years ago, I never imagined I would have the opportunity to visit some of the world’s most exciting destinations as part of my job.  I joined the company as an agent in the Air Department and over time worked my way into a management position.  It was during a time when I held responsibility for our pre- and post-cruise hotel programs that I really expanded my horizons.
I always dreamed of visiting renowned cities such as Venice, Barcelona, Sydney and Tokyo, but honestly, India was never on my list of must-see places.  So, in 1992 when I was asked to go to India to help develop our new hotel programs there, I was a bit wary—and was certainly not expecting I would return with a life-long love of the country and its people.
My journey into India began in the capital city of New Delhi.  When we stepped off the plane I was put at ease by the friendly greeting and the warm smiling faces of our guides who would be with us for the next five days.  We instantly plunged into the life of the city as we traveled through the heavy traffic to our downtown hotel.  It struck me as we were driving that what at first appeared to be gridlock actually was more like a well-orchestrated dance with cars, trucks, motorcycles, people and cows all moving in rhythm together, respectful of each other’s space.  It was an amazing sight, and when we would stop, young street vendors would crowd the car selling beaded trinkets, scarves and brass boxes.  I couldn’t resist and bought a small brass box engraved with an owl with blue lapis lazuli eyes.  Today that box sits on my desk at work, a constant reminder of my adventures through India.
New Delhi is a city of contrasts.  The juxtaposition of temples, tombs and colonial architecture alongside modern buildings of glass and steel makes a drive through the city a sight to behold.  In the walled heart of the city, Old Delhi, we visited the ornate Red Fort, a huge complex that dates back to the 1600s.

The Hawa Mahal, or "Palace of Winds," in Jaipur, also known as the Pink City.

Another significant spot on our itinerary was the memorial site of Mahatma Gandhi, the Raj Ghat.  It’s a very simple platform of black marble that I was told signifies the simple and pure life led by Gandhi.  This visit turned out to be a very moving experience for me and I found myself with a deeper appreciation of the Hindu religion.
Next we headed south to Jaipur by rail.  The train station was full of people—it made for pretty exciting people-watching.  The train itself was surprisingly comfortable and watching the Indian countryside fly by was fun, but also quite eye-opening to see the local trains in the stations and along the route with people riding on the roofs and the tightly packed cars.  It really made me think about the vast differences in this intriguing culture.
In Jaipur we settled into a hotel that had once actually been a palace—the Raj Mahal.  The ornate building was so beautiful and I was very excited to say I slept in a palace built for a queen.  Not to mention I was following many renowned past guests such as Queen Elizabeth II and Jacqueline Kennedy.
Our first stop in Jaipur, known as the Pink City, was at the Hawa Mahal or “Palace of Winds,” a striking pinkish-red building with small grated windows along the street.  It was built so the ladies of the royal household (yes, the harem) could sit and watch processions through the city and daily life on the street below.

Stacy, standing in front of the Amber Fort in Jaipur.

Next we traveled to the Amber Fort located on a hill outside Jaipur.  Getting up the hill was a surprise when we were presented with our transportation—a large Asian elephant!  It was quite a ride as we swayed on our perch while the mighty animal made its way up the steep hill.  The fort is built of white marble and sandstone and took more than two centuries to complete.  Since it was a fort, I wasn’t expecting the elegant paintings and intricate carving decorating the walls and ceilings with small mirror inlays to make the rooms sparkle.
Both of these cities were astounding, but it was the next drive, from Jaipur to Agra, where I really fell in love with India.  While driving along a desolate stretch of open road, something in the distance caught my eye.  As we got closer I realized it was a woman, dressed in a beautiful gold-and-red sari, as if she were ready to go to an elegant event.  But instead, she was digging a ditch on the side of the road.  It struck me as odd and beautiful and I will never forget it.  Plus there was the anticipation of finally seeing the Taj Mahal, which sits just south of Agra.

The Taj Mahal, the monument of love, with the famous reflecting pool in the foreground.

The Taj Mahal is something most of us have seen in pictures, but not until you stand beside it and look closely at its intricate detail and massive size do you truly appreciate the beauty of this monument of love.  It was built in memoriam to the third, and favorite, wife of Shah Jahan, Mumtaz Mahal, who died during the birth of their 14th child.
This mausoleum sits near the banks of the Yamuna River and is surrounded by raised gardens and the rather famous reflecting pool.  It’s actually a full complex of structures that took approximately 20 years to build in the 1600s, but the stunning white marble mausoleum is, of course, the landmark that’s so recognizable as one of the most beautiful buildings in the world.
To me, the beauty of the Taj Mahal was in the detail.  Everywhere I looked I saw dramatically intricate touches:  carvings, inlays and semiprecious gemstones.  I couldn’t help but be amazed by the grandeur of the site.  I found myself thinking about the incredible effort it took to build such a structure purely out of love.  I later read that it may have taken more than 1,000 elephants to bring in construction materials from all over India and Asia, including marble, crystal, jade, turquoise, sapphire and lapis lazuli.
The Taj Mahal was built in traditional Islamic style, which reminded me of the fascinating number of religions in India.  I had studied Asian religions in college and later, when I married, I chose a non-traditional ceremony performed by a Swami in golden robes.  I obviously have a connection to these religions, so I was intrigued throughout my visit to see the variety of faiths living side by side here:  Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, Sikhism, Zoroastrianism, Christianity and so many more.
By the time I returned from India my outlook had turned from one of little interest in, or knowledge about, India to one of recognizing just how lucky I was to have had the opportunity to visit even just a part of this fascinating place.  In the years since, I’ve found myself turning again and again to India—I haven’t had the chance to return (although I’d jump at it), but I have continued to read books and study various Indian topics.  But most importantly, I think my journey in India has made me appreciate the differences in all people and how we all have so much to learn from each other.

Another stunning look at the Taj Mahal.

ESSENTIAL EXPERIENCE 39

Posted by Dana Ionescu

Customer Services Director, Crown Princess

From - July 19, 2011

An Eye-Opening Dream Destination - Athens, Greece - Imagine the good fortune—my first trip outside of Romania was to be to Athens, my dream destination. I’d grown up in a conservative religious family and had a sheltered childhood, but I was not afraid­­­­ and I couldn’t wait to go.

Dana, with the grandeur of the Parthenon behind her in Athens.

Athens was my first travel love. You could even say I yearned for it.
Growing up in Romania under communism, sunny Athens seemed like a dream to me. Although Athens is less than 500 miles from the Romanian capital of Bucharest, it might as well have been 5,000 miles away. It seemed impossible that I, an ordinary girl without connections to the long-running regime of Nicolae Ceausescu, would ever see Athens or leave the country at all, for that matter.
So I consoled myself by seeing the world through books. Reading Greek mythology allowed me to enter a universe governed by the gods and goddesses of Mount Olympus. I was completely fascinated. My favorite god/goddess was Artemis, twin sister to Apollo and the fearless goddess of the hunt. She was as strong and commanding as I wanted to be.
Just after I turned 18, finally, the Ceausescu regime crumbled. Romania was the last of the Eastern Bloc countries to fall. My family did not have the means to immediately travel, but the world came to us, in the form of outside companies setting up businesses in our new, open society.
I got a job at a Greek-owned import/export company, owned by an extremely kind Greek man.  I worked very hard and was as aggressive as Artemis about doing a good job.  Before long, I was promoted from doing invoices and inventories to processing important bank documents. Chocolates, fine liquor, coffee, oranges and bananas passed through the company. All the luxuries of the West came to Romania via Greece, increasing my curiosity about the country even more.
My day came when my boss, recognizing my ambition, rewarded me with a trip to Greece with him and the other executives over Easter. We’d go for 10 days, first to Athens then on to Porto Hydra, to stay at his family villa.
Imagine the good fortune—my first trip outside of Romania was to be to Athens, my dream destination. I’d grown up in a conservative religious family and had a sheltered childhood, but I was not afraid­­­­ and I couldn’t wait to go.
Taking my first flight, I suffered not a second of anxiety. Finally arriving, I felt that Greece was more than another country, it was another planet. It was disorienting in the sense that their culture was similar to my own (sharing a region, like we did), but at the same time it was completely different.

The Acropolis, which literally means "The Upper City."

People seemed livelier, brighter and happier. I reminded myself that they had grown up with microwave ovens, unlimited access to tropical fruits, and TVs that got 20 channels—no wonder they were different.
That first day, my colleagues made sure to take me to the Acropolis, the ancient site on a hill overlooking greater Athens. As it was spring, the hillside was ablaze with a breathtaking abundance of wildflowers.
Visiting the Acropolis was like a flashback to my mythology days—so many buildings and temples dedicated to the gods, who were like old friends to me. There was a connection between the books I loved and this place—all the intrigues and politics of ancient mythology reverberated 25 centuries later.
The Acropolis, particularly the Parthenon, with its parade of Doric columns, still towers over greater Athens. Although the Acropolis dates back many centuries before the 5th Century BCE, most of the buildings that survive in this mythical compound date from that time. That was the Golden Age of Athens, the age of the ruler Pericles, who rebuilt the major temples, including the Parthenon, after invading Persians had sacked it.
Going to Athens can only bring to mind the great contributions of the ancient Greeks. During the era of Pericles alone, great strides were made in architecture, art, literature and democracy. These ideas and art forms still shape the world today. The Acropolis and adjoining ancient Athens Agora, a market or meeting place, made evident how dynamic and sophisticated the ancient Greeks were.
I was just as amazed by the vibrant street life of modern Athens.
My boss took me to a bouzouki restaurant and it was truly overwhelming. I couldn’t believe that you were supposed to buy plates and crash them on the ground. I was quite shy at the time and wanted to be on my best behavior, so I had a hard time doing that. The bouzouki is a stringed instrument, so there was music, singing and dancing and, of course, very good food. The atmosphere was fun and vibrant.
At the bouzouki place, I saw something gorgeous: my first gardenia. It’s one of the flowers of Greece and the audience threw gardenias on the stage for the singers. What a joyful and glorious gesture.

Odeon of Herodes Artticus, a stone theater structure located on the south slope of the Acropolis.

The food in Greece is delicious. The fish, chicken and vegetables are simply prepared with olive oil, fresh herbs and lemon making it some of the healthiest food on earth. The sweets were beautiful to look at and taste, with their use of nuts and honey, very different from what I was used to. I also remember the alcohol. I wasn’t drinking any, but my hosts made me try ouzo… much too strong!
While in Athens, I visited the Plaka area in central Athens, an old part of town with walking streets, cafes, shops and more. We passed by Hadrian’s Arch, erected to honor the Roman emperor around 131 CE, an important historical site and just one of so many that pop up and remind you that a walk in Athens is a walk through early civilization.
We also walked along a boulevard with all the expensive, modern-day shops: Gucci, Chanel and Valentino. I felt like Alice in Wonderland, seeing all these extraordinary goods, but I was not as adventurous as her. I was too hesitant to actually enter the stores, but I did admire them nonetheless.
The thing that impressed me the most was how the people on the street were smiling, relaxed and laughing. The street life felt like a big party or carnival, and that was very strange to me. The Greeks seemed to treat each other with such lightness and nonchalance.

Erechtheion, an ancient Greek temple on the north side of the Acropolis.

While I was there, Athens was preparing for Easter, which meant the streets were decorated for the holiday in a way that reminded me of Romania. There were brightly colored eggs in the stores and ceremonial candles and baked goods—of hard-boiled eggs and bread—all similar to what I knew from home. Another similarity was the level of hospitality. If you are a guest of a Greek or a Romanian, they’ll treat you like a king and give you the very best they have to offer.
I stayed at a hotel in Athens, but after a few days, we took a quick ferry to Porto Hydra, the seaside area outside of Athens. I spent the next eight days as a guest at my boss’s villa on the beach enjoying the crystalline blue waters, unlike anything in Romania. The Black Sea of home is a deep, dark navy blue, due to the dense amount of seaweed. The Mediterranean sparkled with light and levity by contrast.
I went back to Romania a different person. I had a motivation to want more of life. It definitely led me toward a career in tourism. After growing up in a communist country, Greece showed me the wonders of life outside the so-called Iron Curtain. I saw that life could be a celebration. But I have to say, I would never trade my Romanian roots because I think I appreciate this facet of life more than most because of where I grew up.
In the years since, I have been back to Athens many times for work and also as a tourist. Every time, I discover something new and experience new feelings of fascination and wonder. Athens was my first travel love and it’s one that has definitely endured.

ESSENTIAL EXPERIENCE 38

Posted by Richard Harry

Hotel General Manager, Caribbean Princess

From - July 12, 2011

The Theory of Travel Relativity - Bangkok, Thailand - From the moment we stepped off our flight, we entered a different world by distance, culture and class... We felt like royalty ourselves.

The Grand Palace - The official residence of the Kings of Thailand since the 18th century.

If you really want to see a place, go with a local, be it a professional tour guide or friend of a friend.  If that local is a dear relative who also happens to be connected to the very highest levels of society, all the better.  I was lucky enough to have just that experience on my first trip to Bangkok.
Growing up, I always knew her as my glamorous aunt from Canada. My Aunt Sopa was married to my Uncle Ken, an Englishman who had immigrated to Canada. But she was originally from Thailand. While she didn’t talk about it much, Aunty So was distantly related to the royal Thai dynasties.
Her ancestor, Sheikh Ahmad, originally came from Persia in 1602 to settle in Siam.  He and his son, Chune, were appointed Ministers of the Crown.  Aunty So’s direct forebears have since held positions in the court and government through the years.  Among them was King Taksin (1767-1782) and His Excellency Chao Phraya Si Suriyawong, the Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Siam.  He was also the Kalahom or Regent at the beginning of the Fifth Reign and will perhaps be remembered as the Regent in Anna Leonowens “Anna and the King of Siam.”  Her father also served as Minister of Finance in the Thai government, so you can see her connections were vast.
I grew up among the farming communities in the mountains of Wales. Whenever possible my aunt and uncle would visit us, along with their two children, and their heritage and accents made Canada seem so exotic and cosmopolitan to me. The gifts they’d bring were always unique and fantastic and nothing I would have seen in my own country.  The time they brought me a genuine cowboy hat from the Calgary Stampede I was convinced they were rodeo riders.
Years later, I was lucky enough to take a VIP journey to Thailand with my Aunty So and Uncle Ken, my cousins and my parents. It was to be my aunt’s last big trip to Thailand, the distance to get there being so long. For me, a 22-year-old hotel-management student at the time, it presented the opportunity to explore a country and its top hotels and destinations in first-class style, bringing the standards described in my textbooks well and truly to light.
From the moment we stepped off our flight, we entered a different world by distance, culture and class. In addition to the well-known warmth of the Thais, our entry formalities were swiftly taken care of and we were off the plane and on our way in minutes. We felt like royalty ourselves.
Our first stop was the Royal Orchid Hotel. Everyone there was so immaculately dressed, friendly and totally oriented toward service, at levels which were above anything I had known or been taught. Orchids were everywhere; the hotel was opulent in every way. I thought I would like to work at a hotel like that.
My awe was matched by my sister’s relief. At the time, she was on a year’s round-the-world-travel on a shoestring and had timed her travels to coincide with us there. She had just come from sharing a $5 hut in Ko Samui, an island off the coast of Thailand, so the hotel was especially welcome for her. It had running water for one thing.

The Temple of the Emerald Buddha

While in Bangkok, we were accompanied by a private guide, who must have been given clear instruction to make sure we saw every place of note but who also clearly took immense pride in what she was showing and explaining to us. This became a theme of our trip in that everyone was so proud to show their country and its wonders.  We went through the massive Grand Palace, the official residence of the Kings of Thailand since the 18th century.  We saw the temples of the Reclining Buddha, Emerald Buddha and Golden Buddha, one more incredible than the next. I understand the current King doesn’t reside there but the Palace is still used for many royal rituals and rightly so, it’s simply stunning.
Our exhaustive tour of Bangkok included more earthly surroundings, too. We gingerly walked through the floating markets of Bangkok (thronged with tourists, so visit before breakfast when the locals are more likely to be there), the crocodile farm, the snake farm, silkworm farm and silk factory, jade workshops and rosewood carpentry shops. We bought many things that are now cherished family mementos.
To be a tourist is also to eat new things. We ate all sorts of new food that we had never heard of before including thousand-year-old eggs (presumably an acquired taste . . .), duck legs (the lower portion involving feet and webbing) and jellyfish, which, in the dish I had, was weirdly crunchy. I may not have loved every dish, but I loved the experiences and remember the hot-and-sour soup as the best thing I had ever tasted in my life.
My family ties led us to visit my aunt’s brother, an aging general who had served in the Thai army. In his house, a lovely Colonial-era structure, my family and I were fascinated to observe the customs and traditions of respect that have lasted through time.
Respecting social hierarchy is very important in Thai culture. Given the status of my aunt, the household staff followed strict protocol. No one could enter the room with their heads above the height of hers. This led to some tricky situations as my aunt was a petite lady. We were seated upon cushions on the floor which meant that whenever someone entered the room, they had to come in on their knees.

Floating market in Bangkok.

Bangkok is a bustling, energizing city with an active nightlife; we made sure to tour the fun spots, too. Patpong is Bangkok’s entertainment and bargaining area. Some local ladies tried to ‘make friends’ with my Dad and me but we were whisked away by the protective members of our group!
We also rode tuk-tuks, colorful three-wheeler cabs, and felt as if we were risking our lives as we raced through the busy city streets.
After a few days, I was sorry to leave Bangkok, but we were off to see other parts of the country. We headed north to Chiang Mai and rode elephants through the dense jungle. The guides were a lot of fun and let us try ‘driving’ sitting on the elephants head.
From Chiang Mai, we visited the Akha mountain tribe, which at that time was a very primitive settlement in a remote part of the jungle. They weren’t used to westerners and my sister’s blond hair interested them greatly. People could not help but look at her, particularly the children that gathered around.
Next, we were off to Phuket, which routinely appears on travel magazine lists of the world’s top beaches. I would not disagree. After all the hectic sightseeing and touring, it was fantastic to spend some relaxing time on the beach, with great expanses of white sand and rolling ocean all around.
At our hotel a baby elephant would come walking around the pool with its keeper and squirt water from its trunk on people lazing nearby. Could that elephant have been the inspiration behind the poolside Evian misting stewards of today?
I’ve been back to Thailand several times since then and have always felt immediately welcome.  Whenever I’m there, I can’t help but think of my first trip to Thailand and my worldly Aunty So and Uncle Ken.
In many ways I credit their visits to Wales as inspiring my interest in a travel career. As a college student, my visit to Bangkok showed me hospitality in action. Today, that trip makes me think about my own role as an uncle. I have five nephews, and I wonder if perhaps in some small way I’ve become that uncle who comes to visit from far-away lands.
It makes me think how much I would love to show them some of the places I have gotten to know. I look forward to paying it forward, albeit minus the royal touch.

ESSENTIAL EXPERIENCE 37

Posted by Anthony Viciana

Regional Sales Director

From - July 5, 2011

Discovering Delightful Diversions in Belgium - Brussels and Bruges, Belgium - I have to admit Brussels was never on my bucket list... But during the three days I was stranded there, I grew to appreciate the quiet charm and beauty of this quintessential northern European city and the warmth of the Belgian people.

Anthony, second from left, and his colleagues at the train station in Brussels.

As the tenth anniversary of 9/11 approaches, it’s inevitable to think back to where you were and what you were doing when you heard the news of that horrible day. While other Americans watched news of the terrorist attacks unfold live on their TVs at home, I was a world away in Brussels on what was supposed to be a routine business trip – one that suddenly became an extended stay as air travel to the US came to a halt for the next few days.
I have to admit Brussels was never on my bucket list. To me, the city was the headquarters of NATO and the European Union. Brussels was bureaucrats and military personnel—not so exciting to a single guy in his early 30s. But during the three days I was stranded there, I grew to appreciate the quiet charm and beauty of this quintessential northern European city and the warmth of the Belgian people.
I also have to admit that until then, I was that type of traveler who aimed to blend in with the natives. But after 9/11, I never felt prouder to be an American and never before felt how much others appreciated the land of my birth.
I flew into Brussels on September 9, for an AAA travel conference. September 11, the second day of the conference, I went to my room at the Brussels Le Meridien Hotel thinking I’d catch up on some work. I turned on CNN International as background noise and went about my business, until I absorbed what was on my screen. Like everyone else, my first reaction (after utter shock) was to try to phone family, but of course lines to the United States were jammed. I was comforted by the knowledge that my parents were in Florida – hopefully well out of harm’s way – but I really didn’t want to be alone.  Not now.  So. I turned instead to industry colleagues – people I knew from going to conferences and trade shows around the world.

A scenic bridge in Bruges.

I was in Brussels with Cindy Botelho, who also works for Princess.  She’s a good friend and we still remain close.  We gathered in her room with some other colleagues.  Little did I know but we were all to become family over the surreal days that followed.
We watched the news, like the rest of the world trying to figure out who had targeted the United States and why. We eventually moved to the hotel’s conference room, which AAA converted to a news and travel agency. Passing through the hotel lobby, I saw anxious Americans trying to get home and fearing to fly at the same time.
After six hours of this, I told my colleagues, “Look, this may sound insensitive, but I can’t watch this anymore. I’m going to take a shower, get dressed, and go out to dinner for a change of scenery. If you want to join me, please do.”  Everyone took me up on it and I realized my colleagues were quickly becoming my friends through this unsettling experience. Leaving the hotel, we appreciated how lucky we were to breathe the fresh air outside and gratefully went to dinner.

Anthony, left, and his friends on a canal tour in Bruges.

We indulged in local Belgian fare and beer and the locals were very kind.  We were obviously American and found open hearts and genuine concern directed our way.  Not only did they provide us with warm gestures of comfort, they also gave us insight into the city’s must-see sights.
The next morning set the routine for the coming days. My colleagues and I would meet and spend an hour or so sizing up our travel options. Once we’d determined there were no flights out, we’d make the best of the rest of the day and discover the treasures of Brussels.
We headed straight for the heart of Brussels, the Grand Place or Grote Markt (Great Market), the city’s central meeting place literally for 1000 years. The Grand Place was an open-air market in the 10th century. By the 13th century, indoor markets for the important guilds of the time were built. Over the years, these buildings were torn down by attackers and rebuilt numerous times, ultimately being restored in the 19th century to the majesty we see today.
It was clear that Brussels was an important city during the middle ages and Renaissance. The Grand Place is equally important to modern Brussels. We put aside the frightening news and people-watched and explored the shops, cafes and restaurants that fill these buildings today.

Anthony, right, with his friends on a bridge in Bruges.

You can’t visit Brussels without seeing its most famous statue, Manneken Pis. That would translate to Little Man Pee. While Rome has Neptune presiding over the cascading rocks of the Trevi Fountain, Brussels has a little boy urinating into a basin. Sometimes he is au natural; other times he is dressed in gold-embroidered finery one day and slouchy pants, a T-shirt and knit cap the next. People are crazy about Manneken Pis. There are restaurants named in his honor and a section of the King’s House museum displays his extensive wardrobe.
Some say Mannekin Pis commemorates the legend of a little boy who urinated on a burning fuse and thwarted an attacker’s plot. Others say it was erected by a grateful family whose lost boy was found relieving himself in a garden. Whatever the origin, if you’re in Brussels you have to see this statue.
The next morning the news, once again, was that there were no flights home. So we decided to go to Brugge (or Bruges), which is just about an hour outside of Brussels by train. (Belgium is both French and Flemish speaking, so most places have two names.)

A beautiful castle tower in Bruges.

Bruges is filled with charm and beautiful architecture. Much of the city is laid out along canals and, like Amsterdam, it’s sometimes called the Venice of the North. The streets are lined with quaint houses with lace curtains and window boxes filled with vibrant flowers. But the city was an important one during medieval times and, like Brussels, has a market square that was influential in its time. Bruges’ skyline is dominated by the Church of Our Lady and the belfry’s tower, both built in the middle ages. It’s an immaculately preserved slice of history, with a modern pulse.
We enjoyed meeting some of the city’s inhabitants over a stop for mussels and Belgian fries—or moules frites—and were touched by their friendliness and warm concern for our welfare. More than one person approached to tell us they were sorry and that they stood with us.
By day three, some of my colleagues had been booked on flights home, and I was setting out for another adventure with my one remaining traveling companion when my phone rang with news that I had been booked on a flight out. As I left Brussels, I looked out the window down at the city I never thought I’d love so much.  Because of the unusual circumstances, I not only remember the amazing sights, culture and people but I have a fondness for the city that provided me such comfort and support.
With the 10th anniversary approaching, my life is very different. I’m married, a father, and living in Brooklyn, not that far from Ground Zero. This September 11 will be a solemn occasion. The anniversary is sure to cast a shadow over the city and the residents who were so deeply affected. I will mourn alongside them, but I will also think of my time in Belgium, when flights were frozen, and remind myself that time is a gift that should never be wasted.

ESSENTIAL EXPERIENCE 36

Posted by Chris Nicholson

Passenger Programs Specialist

From June 28, 2011

Hospitality Needs no Translation - Tokyo, Japan - Before me stood a house that I can only describe as coming straight off of an antique porcelain plate. With peaked roofs and gabled eaves, the house was a charming relic of a bygone era.

Chris, Mr. & Mrs. Kurihari, and comedian Larry Larkin pose for a picture together.

When most visitors travel to Japan, they think of the quiet serenity of the countryside, where an emphasis is placed on nature and religious sites, or the brash, kinetic lure of non-stop action along Tokyo’s dazzling shopping districts.
My first visit took a path not usually taken. I was invited into the home of a Japanese couple I met during a cruise aboard the original Star Princess.
I knew it was an honor to be invited into someone’s home while traveling, perhaps never more so than in Japan. So when this couple extended an invitation, I was pleasantly surprised.
That’s how I ended up a year later in my hosts’ Tokyo house, reminding myself to feel honored, as I forced down my first-ever plates of sushi. We eat our fish fried and with chips in Liverpool. But I didn’t want to offend. I’d wash down each bite of sushi with sake only to find my plate and cup immediately refilled.
What came next was even more disorienting. I was taken by limo to a community center and whisked through the lobby to a small auditorium. My hosts directed me to get on the stage and sing the “Love Boat” theme song.
There I stood, alone. No band, no back-up singers, an audience of five expectantly watching me, waiting.
“Love, exciting and new. Come aboard. We’re expecting you.”

Mrs. Kurihrari and Chris on the second formal night aboard the original Star Princess in 1990.

An already surreal situation took on a sense of déjà vu. Three years earlier, I stood in a rehearsal hall in Liverpool auditioning for a job as a vocalist for Princess Cruises. “Love. Exciting and new,” I sang, not realizing that “The Love Boat” was Princess’ theme song. What else should I have sung? I’d even brought along my own back-up dancers and dressed them in feathers and bikinis.
I got the job as a vocalist for Princess; later I was privileged to be Cruise Director and the world outside of my home town opened up. “The Love Boat” theme song even became part of my nightly repertoire. I’d sung it per usual one night on Star Princess during a run to Alaska. The next night, I was mixing and mingling with guests during a cocktail party when a very elegant Japanese couple approached me.
They were dressed in traditional kimonos and asked if they could take a photograph with me as they’d recognized me from the show. The couple asked for my address, and promised to send me a copy of the photo. Although we’d exchanged no more than two dozen words, they said I must contact them if I ever went to Japan.
A few months later, I received a copy of the photograph along with a beautiful sea-green silk tie with little flecks of blue.  I couldn’t believe they’d remembered me. A year later, when Tokyo was on the itinerary, I thought I’d have a real Japanese experience with this family rather than go shopping with colleagues. I exchanged letters with the couple and they offered to pick me up at the terminal.

Mt. Fuji.

The approach to Tokyo is beyond beautiful. I woke up early and saw Mount Fuji covered in snow. As we pulled along the dock, the thundering sound of a troupe of traditionally dressed Taiko drummers greeted our arrival. I was pumped up for my tour of Tokyo.
I had researched the city and was wondering where my hosts would take me. Would I see the Harajuku district, made famous by trendy, Tokyo teenagers? Steps from the Harajuku train station, we could go to Meiji Jingu, a shrine devoted to a former emperor and empress. There’s a 400-year-old well there that is said to be a spiritual power spot. Also close by is Yoyogi Park, a forest within the crowded city.
Maybe my hosts would take me to Roppongi, a glitzy international area known for great nightlife. Perhaps we’d go to the famous Tsukiji Fish Market, one of the world’s largest with stall after stall of vendors. Or maybe I’d buy a clever gadget in the Ginza, an area world famous for electronic wizardry.

The Kurihari's Daughter & Son in Law at the pier to pick me up from the Pacific Princess, Tokyo 1992

Before I disembarked, the ship’s Deputy Captain came up to me and said, “Chris, there are people with a banner that says, ‘Welcome to Japan, Chris Nichol.’” (I used Nichol as my stage name.) That was my first hint that this tour would be a little different than expected. The ship’s social hostess said, “Chris, don’t you have a gift for them? It’s a tradition.” Of course, the ship’s boutique was closed and I had to scramble to put together a bag of key chains and pens bearing the “It’s more than a cruise, it’s the Love Boat” slogan.
The couple had brought along their daughter and son-in-law. I invited them on board for a tour and as we were leaving, Larry Larkin, an English comedian performing on the cruise, asked if he could join us. The couple, who spoke very little English, indicated their agreement.
We assumed we’d get on the Tokyo Metro with them, but a different transport — a huge, black, chauffeur-driven limousine — pulled up. As we glided through Tokyo there wasn’t a lot of conversation going on. They kept pointing at buildings, saying, “Apartments…. Apartments.” I was thinking to myself, “Buildings…what’s so special about them?”  During the drive, the son-in-law pulled out a tiny cell phone, which was fascinating to see. After all, it was 1992 and most cell phones were as big as bricks.
The Shinjuku ward contains Tokyo’s skyscraper district (Nishi-Shinjuku), Shinjuku Station (the busiest train station in the world), luxury hotels, shopping centers, nightclubs and apartments, as my hosts continually reminded me. Much of it was constructed during the 1970s, and buildings shimmered with enough neon to rival Times Square.

Mrs. Kurihari in her garden wearing her kimono.

We drove up a quiet little side street and the limo deposited us by a brick wall. Ducking through a little door, I was surprised to enter a serene, landscaped garden with huge willow trees and a pond stocked with lily pads and bright orange koi. We’d just been surrounded by skyscrapers seconds earlier! Before me stood a house that I can only describe as coming straight off of an antique porcelain plate. With peaked roofs and gabled eaves, the house was a charming relic of a bygone era.
It had been built by my host’s grandfather, he told me. He ushered us into this delightful house, with traditional tatami mats, dividing screens and amber-hued woods. We exchanged our shoes for slippers, as is customary, and sat down for a sushi banquet. This is where Larry stepped up his act. Knowing I had a novice’s fear of eating raw fish, he kept passing me sushi with his chopsticks. (It turns out serving others with chopsticks is a no-no. Present the plate for others to choose from instead.)
After downing sushi–which I can only imagine must have been of the absolute best quality–with cup after cup of sake, I was then led to the community hall for my command performance of “The Love Boat.” As funny as it felt for me to sing there, my Japanese friends seemed to enjoy the performance and Larry looked highly amused.
My performance was followed by the host’s wife, who performed a graceful, traditional Japanese dance. It was beautiful and I was truly touched by her presentation.
We went back to the hidden house. I got lost while going to the bathroom and entered a room filled with hundreds and hundreds of mounted keys. Then it occurred to me. All those “apartments, apartments” were theirs. They owned tracts of valuable real estate in this most expensive of cities.
I had been befriended by Tokyo’s refined version of the Trump family.

Mrs. Kurihari and Chris sitting on the step of the Kurihari's tea house.

As we said our good-byes, my friends presented me with a delicate tea set. We promised to keep in touch and we did exchange postcards for a while. A few years later, I was saddened to hear about the father’s death, soon followed by his wife’s. They were gracious, lovely people.
The last letter I received from the daughter invited me and my mother to stay at the penthouse suite at one of their hotels (it turned out they owned some of those, too) the next time I was in Tokyo. That was more than 15 years ago, and sadly, I haven’t been back since.
I’m sure I’ll return one day to see the sights of that remarkable city—where ultra-modern glitter seamlessly melds with the quiet traditional. But I cannot imagine it will feel the same without the impeccable and considerate attention provided by my Japanese friends. What I would not give to have the chance to sing that song again in that little community hall.

ESSENTIAL EXPERIENCE 35

Posted by Antonio Cortese

Executive Chef, Pacific Princess

From June 21, 2011

In the Wake of the Bounty - Pitcairn Island - I know when I was on Pitcairn, I felt like Robinson Crusoe. With the mutiny still a very important part of life there, it felt like uncharted territory - a mysterious, uninhabited tropical paradise.

Antonio's first photo after he landed on Pitcairn Island in 2009.

When people think of “Mutiny on the Bounty,” they think of the Marlon Brando movie about the famous uprising at sea.  In the movie, cruel Captain Bligh is overthrown by his crew and cast adrift on a small boat.  The story is even more incredible because it’s true.  As a child in Italy, I loved the movie and was amazed to learn that there really was a mutiny on the HMS Bounty, where Captain William Bligh was overthrown by his second-in-command, Fletcher Christian.
The mutiny occurred in 1789 and the story could’ve ended there, in the middle of the South Pacific, unknown to later generations.  Against all odds, Bligh made it safely back to England, along with the half of the crew that remained loyal to him, to tell the world the news.  There began the legend of the mutiny on the Bounty and the inevitable question:  Whatever happened to Fletcher Christian and his fellow mutineers?
We now know that Christian and his half of the Bounty crew took wives in Tahiti and ended up on a deserted island, the remote and desolate Pitcairn Island, in 1790.
Named for British midshipman Robert Pitcairn who sighted it in 1767, Pitcairn was at first incorrectly charted, making it difficult for other sailors to find it.  Thus it was the perfect place for someone who needed to hide.  Even when a ship did happen to spot Pitcairn, the harbor was so dangerous to navigate, most could not stop.  First contact between the Bounty mutineers and the outside world didn’t come until 18 years later, when the American ship, Topaz, under the command of Mayhew Folger, spent 10 hours with the settlers, solving the mystery of whatever happened to Fletcher Christian and his shipmates.

The lush vegetation and beautiful panoramic view of the Pacific (and Pacific Princess!).

More than 210 years after the mutiny, I’ve been fortunate enough to see with my own eyes what happened to the descendants of Fletcher Christian and his defiant crew.  I first called aboard Pacific Princess in 1996, and I have since sailed by five other times and landed there twice.  The first time I actually got to set foot on the island was in the winter of 2002.  My mission, as chef of the new Pacific Princess, was to deliver food and supplies to the islanders — something passing cruise ships do as a courtesy.  I was on and off the island quickly since the weather was bad that day.
Every time a ship calls, the locals, many of whom have surnames of Young, Warren and Brown — names that trace back to the Bounty — come out to the ship to sell the beautiful wood carvings they make, as well as local crops:  pineapple, papaya, passion fruit, bananas. They also pick up the staple food items they have ordered.
The Bounty Bay harbor is difficult for most ships, and with unfavorable tidal conditions it’s rare to call, but that doesn’t stop the residents from meeting the ship as it anchors offshore.

Antonio with two of the locals on the island.

During our 2009 passing, I was able to spend some time on the island.  The Pitcairn Islanders came onboard as usual to sell their wares.  But this time, as conditions were calm, the captain gave me, as well as the food and beverage manager (Melania), a security officer (Berwyn) and our videographer (Will), permission to go ashore to explore the island.
The weather that day was quite nice and the seas were not very rough so the approach into the island was very smooth.  Mayor Christian accompanied us on the tour and easily sailed his craft into the harbor.  No houses were visible as we sailed in, just a garage-like structure and a chain and hook for hauling in small boats.  These boats then go inside the garage to protect them from choppy surf.  From there, we got on some 4×4 vehicles for a tour of the island.
Island highlights included the post office (every three months the post goes out via boat), a small museum, the general store, a court house and a church.  There’s a place for the locals to socialize with table tennis, a few chairs and a small bar.
We also saw the school house where a teacher from New Zealand takes up temporary residence to teach the young, and an old cemetery that I would like to return to one day as it has the graves of the original Christian family.  The mountains on the island and the lush vegetation are beautiful as is the panoramic view of the Pacific.

A native turtle enjoys the local fruit.

As a chef, naturally the highlight of my travels is the food.  On Pitcairn, I was delighted to taste the local passion fruit and found it was really delicious.  We bought plenty of fruit to take back and put out at the buffet for the passengers.
The local diet is rich in shellfish, fish and tropical fruit, all abundantly available.  I imagined how happy the mutineers must have been to realize that they did not have to starve on their deserted island.
Technically the Pitcairn Islands (there are four of them, but just Pitcairn Island itself is inhabited) are a British Overseas Territory.  So the residents’ tastes in imported food tend to be British with a twist of Australia and New Zealand — before cruise ships began bringing supplies, ships from New Zealand came by only twice a year, delivering regional fare.
On this visit, our mission was to deliver food they had ordered by email almost two months previously.  We brought cheddar cheese, milk, cream, roast beef, pork loin, lamb, steak, kidney for pies and several vegetables like onions, potatoes and carrots.
Pitcairn residents’ tastes are becoming broader as years go by.  Their shopping lists used to be very basic — staples like rice, beef and butter — and were easy to assemble. More recently, the lists have become more detailed.  We get requests for Champagne and wine, as well as beer.
By 2009 I was surprised to find that their list showed even greater awareness of the outside world. In addition to luxury goods, now we are getting requests for specific brand names. By my account, the most popular brand on Pitcairn Island is Nutella.  I think there must be a craze for it.  As a chef, I would recommend grilling the local pineapple with a Nutella glaze.  Other recent requests have included Vegemite and Cascade Lager from Australia and Steinlager from New Zealand.

Antonio poses with a Bounty cannon.

The mayor of Pitcairn and I continue to keep in touch — now by email; it used to be by postcard.  He keeps me up to date on changes on the island.  They’ve started putting asphalt down on the roads.  He wants to improve the harbor and build a pier so that passengers can land in the future.
Will these developments change the island?  I don’t know.  I know when I was on Pitcairn, I felt like Robinson Crusoe.  With the mutiny still a very important part of life there, it felt like uncharted territory — a mysterious, uninhabited tropical paradise.
I wonder about increasing civilization changing that connection to the past.  But mostly I wonder, what are they doing with all that Nutella?