January 14 Today is St Thomas. Yippeee, today is the day I finally get to go to St John! A place I have been dreaming of since I was 25 and first heard about a cheap campground and a National Park there. I place I started planning to take the family to several years ago. A place that turned out to be so expensive to fly to, that taking a Disney Cruise was even cheaper. I watched as we slowly made our way into the harbor and dropped anchor in the bay. We all rolled out of bed to go through Immigration. Room service delivered at 6:00, we grabbed a roll and threw on our swimsuits and t-shirts. We left our room at 6:30 to find the Walt Disney Theater center section was full and only one immigration official was present, it was a busy day for them with six ships. The audience was chaffing and pretty upset as the meeting times for excursions came and went and most of us were still sitting, we were wishing we had given a radio to Rack and Gma, who had gone through immigration instantly via the elevator for wheelchairs, they could have grabbed all the stuff. The Disney officers kept reassuring us that we would not miss our excursions, that all would be held. A lot of people around us were still not reassured though. Peter was complaining because our excursion only gave us an hour and a half on St John, and he was sure we would lose that. Finally a few more immigrations officials showed up, just as they called us, of course. We raced back, grabbed sun block, hats and the snorkel bag, praying we had not forgotten anything. Finally we were all ready to tender at about 8:30, an hour late. The Studio Seas was packed with all the different excursions that should have left early and they announced that we would all be loaded on the first tender together. They led most of the people across the ship, but I had to drive Mom across on several floors and take the elevator to get to the tender deck, but one of the directors met us, aware of our slower mode of transport, to make sure we could get there. Everyone else took the back stairs. We got off the elevator into the deck 2 lobby, and rolled into the group.
Rant here: Avoid if you want to. Then a really snotty father and daughter yelled at us that we were butting in line, they were ahead of us (he was the last at present, I guess, cant be the last, not good for the divorced-father-arent-I-wonderful-Im-taking-my-daughter-on-a-Disney-Cruise-dont-cha-know image). Little realizing that most of the group, including the rest of ours, was stacked in the stairwell, well ahead of him. I said excuse me, he said of course, really nasty. Jerk, hope he ends up in a wheelchair and experiences how hard it is to get around, may he experience the fact that you are limited in where you can go, that able-bodied he and his daughter and plenty more like him kept us waiting at many elevators, may he experience how hard it is to negotiate a wheelchair through a crowded lobby on plush carpet to make sure you are not butting in front of anyone, may he spend days down low watching everybodys sweaty armpits and butts, may his armpits be infested with the fleas of a thousand Oh, I digress. Then a whole larger group of the same excursion, plus a whole additional excursion came to join us in the elevator lobby. Funny, he did not then yell at the 50-100 or so of them. Then what must have been the final insult for him, we were all on the same tender, hed have known that if he had picked the Shrek-sized globs of wax out of his ears, thanks for the lady who saw this guys actions and empathized with us. Didnt matter anyway, that because we did have a wheelchair we were told to sit at the back of the tender (a good reason why anyone should never mind if a wheelchair butts in front of them, we always end up wherever they make us go), but glory, the tender unloaded from the back. So it must have really burned him up that he got on the same excursion boat after us and was such a lousy snorkeler he was even in the water well after us, and out well before us. Ha! There is justice in the world.
Anyway, we were finally on the Leylon Sneed 5-Star snorkel tour and leaving for St John over half an hour late, with everyone grumbling (i.e. Peter) about losing time on the beach. We had chosen the Leylon Sneed after seeing it go by on our last trip. The last time we brought Gma to St Thomas, no one I talked to at DCL, and trust me, I tried, could confirm accessibility for anything. We ended up going through Shore Trips and hiring a private boat to snorkel. Now DCL was able to confirm that the Leylon Sneed would be O.K. for Gma. Silliness, I was so excited, St John here I come. Our newspaper publishes pictures of travelers in front of unusual destinations, as long as you are holding the Sunday travel section. So starting out we took a bunch of pictures on the Leylon Sneed, Magic in the background, travel section before us, as we went through the Charlotte Amalie harbor. Everyone looked at us like we were nuts, not one person asked us why. It was a nice trip over, past beaches we had visited in the past. Most of the way over to St John they informed us that there was a northern swell on Trunk Bay beach and the visibility was lousy, (or maybe all the other cruise ships beat us to the anchorages, since we were so late, or maybe if we had gone there we would have had five minutes in the water?). So we went to Little Moon Beach on Greater St James, but this gave us two hours on the beach. Once again, three trips to St Thomas and no St John, so near and yet so far Someday, I swear.
Dropped anchor in the bay. Gma waited on the boat while the rest of us did a short snorkel. There was a ladder, short swim to a reef, or a dingy to take to a much farther out rock or to the beach. Good fish at the nearby reef but nothing remarkable. Whistler got tired and wanted to return to the boat so we began to swim back, having lost Rack somewhere. Just as we got close to the boat we saw a large ray, Peter swam down to get a picture and lost his reading glasses to the bottom. After a few free-dive tries he managed to retrieve them. Back on the boat, where Rack awaited us, Whistler, Mr.-I-cant-go-any-farther-Im exhausted disappeared, and we found him back over the side of the boat in his float, by himself. Hed climbed down the ladder (we are talking 15 feet here) and just jumped in in his blow-up, fifty-nine-cent-Target-tube. Deep doo-doo. Really deep doo-doo. At least my kids are not afraid of the water.
We loaded everyone but Peter into the dingy and went to the beach. Pretty funky. This is a privately owned island, presently for sale, house and tennis courts included. The beach is totally ungroomed; full of old coral and shells, lots of seaweed and the omnipresent detritus of careless tourists. The dingy took Peter across the bay to snorkel by himself. Not smart according to PADI dive rules, but there were lots of guys from the boat on safety boards around the bay. We beach combed, found lots of large hermit crabs and found huge conch all over the shallow breakers. Peter came back a while later and we both went over to the rocky point and saw beautiful blue and purple sea fans, star fish and a huge trunk fish. Could have stayed here hours, but time was up. Swam back to the Leylon Sneed and then the Leylon Sneed headed back to Charlotte Amalie. Fresh water shower on the deck and the same ubiquitous mango-orange-rum punch stuff found everywhere. A nice trip. Very helpful staff. The dingy driver seemed to be pleased that we were pleased with the further out location he had taken us to. Tipped them.
The Leylon docked at Charlotte Amalie. I was very worried about this town. Had heard horror stories about trying to get a wheelchair around, and had been there before and remembered only cobbles and broken alleyways. Before we had been at Havensite, which was easy. We shopped a bit in town, a bit hard to get around with the wheelchair, but not the nightmare I expected. There are some ramps, not the best engineered, but still you can get around a bit. We bought sharks, flutes and Larimar, a lovely pale turquoise stone I had fallen in love with long ago in the Dominican Republic, the stones source. It is usually set in silver and used to be dirt cheap, alas, no longer, at least not in Charlotte Amalie. Looked around the market where Peter bought some music and we bought some liquor, bay rhum and treats at AH Riise. Then tendered back to the ship. We got cleaned up and pigged out on room service cheese plates, fruit bowls and pizza again. We watched our departure from Charlotte Amalie on the verandah, watching until we saw the harbor pilot jump back to the pilot boat, an easier task in the calmer waters here.
Went to dinner at Lumiere. Not my favorite menu, the International, it all seems a little too dumbed down in taste. (And the serving teams vests really clashed with the restaurant). We had already eaten too much room service to make up for no lunch in C.A., anything tastes better when you are hungry. I had quesadillas, cold cucumber and mint soup (Gma too) and the roasted chicken. The mint soup was good, quesadillas just O.K. by Colorado standards. The chicken was O.K., fixed Tandoori style but was a pretty cheap cut of leg and fatty thigh. Rack and Peter ordered soft-shelled crab. Rack a bit taken aback, tried one bite, turned green and Adina traded it in on a quesadilla. Salads and prime rib for others. Enjoyed the Parade of Nations and a chance to applaud the staff. Whistler provided a quick demo of why we do not over-feed him (cheap trip to the toilet, this time). Adina fielded a later mini-reprise (what a doll). Peter had Apple pie for desert, Rack and Gma the sundae. None for me, too full. Another Anton mind bender, then out of there, Whsitler out for the night.
The program for the night was strange. It was not listed as a premier, but there was a showing of Calender Girls, PG-13. Was pretty sure the kids would not like that since everyone was so tired. There was the Sailors Tales going on in the Rockin Bar D, would have liked to see that, but we did not notice, I guess we were just too tired, and too confused about the schedule changes. Everyone returned to the cabins. Gameboy had been bugging me to go night swimming, so he got on his suit and I took him to the Goofy pool. It was not crowded, three siblings, unsupervised, with the rawest whopping coughs I have heard lately (first sign of sickness I had seen on the ship) and a few other lone kids and parents watching over. There was huge surf in the pool, three to four feet drops and splashes. Kids thought it was a riot; I was waiting for one of them to get knocked out on the overhanging ledge. Back to bed, where everyone else was fast asleep.
Next, the last sea day.
Tink
Rant here: Avoid if you want to. Then a really snotty father and daughter yelled at us that we were butting in line, they were ahead of us (he was the last at present, I guess, cant be the last, not good for the divorced-father-arent-I-wonderful-Im-taking-my-daughter-on-a-Disney-Cruise-dont-cha-know image). Little realizing that most of the group, including the rest of ours, was stacked in the stairwell, well ahead of him. I said excuse me, he said of course, really nasty. Jerk, hope he ends up in a wheelchair and experiences how hard it is to get around, may he experience the fact that you are limited in where you can go, that able-bodied he and his daughter and plenty more like him kept us waiting at many elevators, may he experience how hard it is to negotiate a wheelchair through a crowded lobby on plush carpet to make sure you are not butting in front of anyone, may he spend days down low watching everybodys sweaty armpits and butts, may his armpits be infested with the fleas of a thousand Oh, I digress. Then a whole larger group of the same excursion, plus a whole additional excursion came to join us in the elevator lobby. Funny, he did not then yell at the 50-100 or so of them. Then what must have been the final insult for him, we were all on the same tender, hed have known that if he had picked the Shrek-sized globs of wax out of his ears, thanks for the lady who saw this guys actions and empathized with us. Didnt matter anyway, that because we did have a wheelchair we were told to sit at the back of the tender (a good reason why anyone should never mind if a wheelchair butts in front of them, we always end up wherever they make us go), but glory, the tender unloaded from the back. So it must have really burned him up that he got on the same excursion boat after us and was such a lousy snorkeler he was even in the water well after us, and out well before us. Ha! There is justice in the world.
Anyway, we were finally on the Leylon Sneed 5-Star snorkel tour and leaving for St John over half an hour late, with everyone grumbling (i.e. Peter) about losing time on the beach. We had chosen the Leylon Sneed after seeing it go by on our last trip. The last time we brought Gma to St Thomas, no one I talked to at DCL, and trust me, I tried, could confirm accessibility for anything. We ended up going through Shore Trips and hiring a private boat to snorkel. Now DCL was able to confirm that the Leylon Sneed would be O.K. for Gma. Silliness, I was so excited, St John here I come. Our newspaper publishes pictures of travelers in front of unusual destinations, as long as you are holding the Sunday travel section. So starting out we took a bunch of pictures on the Leylon Sneed, Magic in the background, travel section before us, as we went through the Charlotte Amalie harbor. Everyone looked at us like we were nuts, not one person asked us why. It was a nice trip over, past beaches we had visited in the past. Most of the way over to St John they informed us that there was a northern swell on Trunk Bay beach and the visibility was lousy, (or maybe all the other cruise ships beat us to the anchorages, since we were so late, or maybe if we had gone there we would have had five minutes in the water?). So we went to Little Moon Beach on Greater St James, but this gave us two hours on the beach. Once again, three trips to St Thomas and no St John, so near and yet so far Someday, I swear.
Dropped anchor in the bay. Gma waited on the boat while the rest of us did a short snorkel. There was a ladder, short swim to a reef, or a dingy to take to a much farther out rock or to the beach. Good fish at the nearby reef but nothing remarkable. Whistler got tired and wanted to return to the boat so we began to swim back, having lost Rack somewhere. Just as we got close to the boat we saw a large ray, Peter swam down to get a picture and lost his reading glasses to the bottom. After a few free-dive tries he managed to retrieve them. Back on the boat, where Rack awaited us, Whistler, Mr.-I-cant-go-any-farther-Im exhausted disappeared, and we found him back over the side of the boat in his float, by himself. Hed climbed down the ladder (we are talking 15 feet here) and just jumped in in his blow-up, fifty-nine-cent-Target-tube. Deep doo-doo. Really deep doo-doo. At least my kids are not afraid of the water.
We loaded everyone but Peter into the dingy and went to the beach. Pretty funky. This is a privately owned island, presently for sale, house and tennis courts included. The beach is totally ungroomed; full of old coral and shells, lots of seaweed and the omnipresent detritus of careless tourists. The dingy took Peter across the bay to snorkel by himself. Not smart according to PADI dive rules, but there were lots of guys from the boat on safety boards around the bay. We beach combed, found lots of large hermit crabs and found huge conch all over the shallow breakers. Peter came back a while later and we both went over to the rocky point and saw beautiful blue and purple sea fans, star fish and a huge trunk fish. Could have stayed here hours, but time was up. Swam back to the Leylon Sneed and then the Leylon Sneed headed back to Charlotte Amalie. Fresh water shower on the deck and the same ubiquitous mango-orange-rum punch stuff found everywhere. A nice trip. Very helpful staff. The dingy driver seemed to be pleased that we were pleased with the further out location he had taken us to. Tipped them.
The Leylon docked at Charlotte Amalie. I was very worried about this town. Had heard horror stories about trying to get a wheelchair around, and had been there before and remembered only cobbles and broken alleyways. Before we had been at Havensite, which was easy. We shopped a bit in town, a bit hard to get around with the wheelchair, but not the nightmare I expected. There are some ramps, not the best engineered, but still you can get around a bit. We bought sharks, flutes and Larimar, a lovely pale turquoise stone I had fallen in love with long ago in the Dominican Republic, the stones source. It is usually set in silver and used to be dirt cheap, alas, no longer, at least not in Charlotte Amalie. Looked around the market where Peter bought some music and we bought some liquor, bay rhum and treats at AH Riise. Then tendered back to the ship. We got cleaned up and pigged out on room service cheese plates, fruit bowls and pizza again. We watched our departure from Charlotte Amalie on the verandah, watching until we saw the harbor pilot jump back to the pilot boat, an easier task in the calmer waters here.
Went to dinner at Lumiere. Not my favorite menu, the International, it all seems a little too dumbed down in taste. (And the serving teams vests really clashed with the restaurant). We had already eaten too much room service to make up for no lunch in C.A., anything tastes better when you are hungry. I had quesadillas, cold cucumber and mint soup (Gma too) and the roasted chicken. The mint soup was good, quesadillas just O.K. by Colorado standards. The chicken was O.K., fixed Tandoori style but was a pretty cheap cut of leg and fatty thigh. Rack and Peter ordered soft-shelled crab. Rack a bit taken aback, tried one bite, turned green and Adina traded it in on a quesadilla. Salads and prime rib for others. Enjoyed the Parade of Nations and a chance to applaud the staff. Whistler provided a quick demo of why we do not over-feed him (cheap trip to the toilet, this time). Adina fielded a later mini-reprise (what a doll). Peter had Apple pie for desert, Rack and Gma the sundae. None for me, too full. Another Anton mind bender, then out of there, Whsitler out for the night.
The program for the night was strange. It was not listed as a premier, but there was a showing of Calender Girls, PG-13. Was pretty sure the kids would not like that since everyone was so tired. There was the Sailors Tales going on in the Rockin Bar D, would have liked to see that, but we did not notice, I guess we were just too tired, and too confused about the schedule changes. Everyone returned to the cabins. Gameboy had been bugging me to go night swimming, so he got on his suit and I took him to the Goofy pool. It was not crowded, three siblings, unsupervised, with the rawest whopping coughs I have heard lately (first sign of sickness I had seen on the ship) and a few other lone kids and parents watching over. There was huge surf in the pool, three to four feet drops and splashes. Kids thought it was a riot; I was waiting for one of them to get knocked out on the overhanging ledge. Back to bed, where everyone else was fast asleep.
Next, the last sea day.
Tink
