Well, we’re back on a ship. I have pretty much stopped writing about our journeys, which I may regret someday, Also have stopped snapping photos everywhere – the digital age is a curse in that regard. Remember when you had 24 – maybe a whopping 36 – photos on a roll of film and had to be choosy about what photos you took on vacay? Not anymore, but that’s another story for another time.

I decided maybe I should write about this one way back in South Carolina when we almost started off our month long journey with a major kerfuffle. We were flying Savannah to Atlanta, then catching a flight to Amsterdam.

Al usually checks us in to our flights, but because my new passport had not yet been entered, I got to do the honors. No big deal. Good thing I noticed the 4:00 boarding time in bold letters on the digital ticket. When Al said our ride was coming at 3 and would get us to airport at 3:30, I told him that even for him, who rather enjoys the excitement of the plane doors about to close as we run for the gate, arriving at the airport half an hour before boarding seemed like it was cutting it awfully close.

Panic ensued as we revisited the tickets and sure enough somewhere, sometime, Delta had changed the departure. Al was still working off the old itinerary. This out-of-character mistake on his part left us scrambling a bit to make sure or ride could come earlier and cleaning out the fridge took on a greater sense of urgency.

We made it fine, but it got me thinking – what other snafus might await us on this trip, and perhaps I should take note going forward. So here we are.

The flight from Savannah was so quick – literally thirty minutes – I felt had we missed the flight we probably could have driven to the airport. Our new environs in South Carolina have challenged my lack of geographic skills – for a year I really “felt” like Savannah was northwest of us, when of course it is pretty much due south/southeast. It doesn’t help that the ocean is now east when we’ve lived with an ocean to the west of us for forty five years, Took me fifteen years after living with Lake Michigan to the east all my life to get used to the ocean being west when we first lived in California. Now this again. It’s some kind of universal test of my patience, I’m sure of it.

Atlanta to Amsterdam was a mere 8 hours. I never thought I’d long for a good solid 12 – 14 hour flight but here we are. 8 hours is just not enough to get a good long snooze in before you land. Worse, for some reason our economy seats just seemed irritatingly cramped this time. Usually I can get my pillows set up, close my ears and eyes with whatever devices do the trick, and off I go into dreamland. I did sleep for a few hours but Al did the airplane version of tossing and turning. We arrived less than rested but no rest for the wicked didn’t seem to bother us when we arrived in beautiful Amsterdam at 10 a.m……