Day Fifteen: In Which All Good Things Must End.

Our last full day on the ship began with our docking at Castaway Cay.  While we heard it rained first thing in the morning, we slept through it, safely immured in our category 11 inside cabin.  By the time we got outside, it was actually fairly lovely weather, with the Flying Dutchman out to greet us, as always.

We took a tram out to the main drag with the family beaches and shops and things, and wandered around there for awhile.  Then, after spectating a little at the stingray experience, we (I) decided to walk down to the adult beach.  The heat and the length of the walk caused some of us (Mom) to decompensate a little, but we eventually made it there and found some beach chairs to sit in, while looking at the sea.

It's really a beautiful place, with the water incredibly clear and blue.  And yes, there was an interdimensional rift that made half the island a different hue when I took the photo.  I'm here to document these things for you.

After a certain amount of lolling about (with me keeping a careful eye out for bugs, because I got bit to the point of anemia last time here,) lunchtime arrived.  We grabbed some sodas and ice cream to ward off the heat that was becoming a tad oppressive, and then trammed back to the ship for a nice lunch at Parrot Cay.  They like to tell you that the food is the same on the island as it is on the ship--not so much.  There was a lot more variety onboard, beyond the usual barbeque and mahi mahi they serve seaside.  While we ate, we were seated at the next table over from where all the entertainers were sitting.  This was amusing, as Magical Danny seemed totally amazed that with all the food onboard, people still eat hunks off the gingerbread house they display on the Christmas cruises.  Welcome to America, Magical Danny.

More walking around the decks ensued after lunch, until people rebelled and retired back to the cabin for an afternoon nap.  We then found our next-to-last blanket animal for the cruise:

I'm going to go with "squid" for this one, but honestly, it's a little bit of a reach.

After napping and showering were accomplished, I went out on deck to see the stunt-bike demonstration put on by Kevin Robinson, who is an X-Games gold medalist.  They constructed a little ramp alongside the ship where he did a number of jumps and totally wiped out once, making a good case for the wearing of helmets in such activities.

We attended our last origami session with Ponz, the multifaceted CM, and then went off to our last show, "Remember The Magic" which was partially a variety show, involving all the entertainers we've seen in the last few days, and the continuation of a sketch started in the first day's show.  The family that was shown all happy and excited at the beginning of the cruise is totally depressed and dejected that it's all over and they have to go home, until Peter Pan and Anne-Marie come back from yesterday's show, and assure them that the magic will always continue, with "faith, trust...and a little bit of pixie dust!!"  I'm thinking a wad of cash doesn't hurt either.

We get our gratuity envelopes ready, and head out for the last night's dinner, entitled "'Till We Meet Again."  This had one of the best appetizers of the cruise, seared ahi, and I fall for the soup again which is a sort of watery chowder.  At least it was consistent to the end.

My entree was a seafood pasta which was billed as having lobster, but which looked a little more langoustine-like.  Nevertheless, it was pretty good, although the noodles were a little al dente...but maybe my taste has gotten corrupted since everyone else here likes their pasta mushy.

After the entree, they had the traditional parade of the baked Alaska, along with a parade of the servers, carrying their home flags.  Baked Alaska in general is not the most outstanding dessert, being just ice cream and meringue, but I always feel obliged to have it, given that they've gone to the effort of setting it on fire.  Ox was not as sensitive, and went with the sugar-free cappuccino mousse.

   

We race back to the room to get our luggage out by the 11pm deadline, and manage to make it, although not before Felindro asks if we're ready.  No, Felindro.  We'll be ready at 11pm.  He does make us one last towel animal however, and we admire it before going off to see the crew perform in their late-night goodbye cabaret.  As is traditional, it's a tad on the raunchy side, but I'm sure nothing like what it would be on another cruise line.

After making sure we have everything we're supposed to for the next day, we finally retire for the last time in our tiny cabin.  Not, however, before we close the circle on this cruise as it was always meant to be.

Thanks, Mickey.

Tomorrow:  Disembarkation...

Day Fourteen: In Which We Finally See Wall E, Ditch the Disembarkation Presentation, and Watch Disney Dreams.

Our last day at sea *sniff*.  We rouse ourselves and get downstairs in time for the Stage Works backstage presentation at the Walt Disney Theatre.

They typically can't offer these sorts of backstage glimpses on the shorter cruises, as time in the theatre is apparently at a premium--the schedules are so tight, shows or rehearsals are nearly always taking place.  It's interesting to see how much stuff they can cram into such cramped spaces--all the props and sets are carefully and specifically filed/positioned/located so that they can be quickly located and retrieved for the next time they do that show.  They have representatives from each production department give a little summation of their area of expertise, and then they let us up onto the stage to wander about, gawk, and ask questions.  We are also amazed at the stairs leading up to the stage--each night, the performers bound up onto the stage, sometimes in huge costumes where they can't possible see their feet, with no problems at all.  In reality, the steps are fairly steep, and with no handrails, proof a little tricky for some of our members to mount.

The actors had said earlier that they have no one behind the scenes designated to help them with their costume changes or anything, so it's up to their fellow actors to fill the gap--one of them mentions that there's more activity going on offstage than onstage at the Golden Mickeys, trying to get everyone ready in time.  They also have a rack of costumes available for people to try on and model.  If you're that much of an exhibitionist, that is.

We duck out a little early to make a showing of Wall E.  It had showed earlier as the main evening show, but we skipped out on it, in lieu of standing in the rain, watching the Panama Canal pass by.  This was then the only other time that was convenient for us to see it, and it was apparently a last-minute addition as it wasn't listed in the movie schedule, but only in the daily Navigator.  We speculate that it was so last-minute that they forgot to tell the projectionist, as we all sit in the theatre for about 15 minutes after the schedules time, waiting for it to start.  Finally, after several phone calls, people come running, and the movie commences.  If you haven't seen Wall E yet...you must.  It's great, and like the kinder, gentler version of Idiocracy.  In any case, it's nice to know that, not matter what happens to the rest of the world, Costco (and it's equivalents) will survive, along with the cockroaches.

We go for lunch afterwards, and finding nothing terribly exciting offered at Lumiere's (jaded, much?) we head up to Topsider's Buffet, where we are pleasantly surprised to find an Asian buffet, complete with Sushi table.

The rice, is frankly, not very good, being by turns hard and mushy, but the fish is good, and they have ikura, so we are satisfied.  Amusingly, the CMs that get the food for you, do not appear to know what any of them are, and persist in saying anything with green is "wasabi."  A trend I notice is that at the beginning of any meal shift, everyone is bright and perky and accommodating...and while they try to maintain it throughout the mealtime, it is only natural that there is a little fading off by the end.  The CM that, at the start of lunch is going "what would you like?  This one?  That one?  Let me get that for you..." by the end is pretty much "...I don't know.  It's good.  You'll like it."

After lunch, we split up as Mom goes to origami class, and I take in a juggling workshop.  I don't think either of us reaches professional levels of performance.  Mom then carpe diem's a naptime, while I wander around more and take in the sites.  I think I tried to do some blogging on deck 4, but found the chairs entirely too sleepifying to be very productive.  While there, a parade of munchkins meanders by.

There are a lot of children on board, some of whom are unfortunately, only marginal in their behavior.  It's a crapshoot anytime you get in the elevator, as to whether someone will have punched all the buttons for every floor, and Christiaan has to make multiple announcements pleading with parents to stop their kids from congregating and running around in the hallways and public areas.  Towards the end of the cruise, there are rumors that graffiti has had to be removed off the murals around the elevators, which is unhappy, if true.

Tonight's show Disney Dreams starts at 6:15pm.  Getting ready for it, we find our latest fabric animal addition:

I can only think that the 15 days is really pressing his ingenuity, because I cannot tell what this is.  Mom thinks it's a seal.

Anyway, Dreams is the DCL signature show, probably because it's won awards for best cruise line show or something.  There's no denying that it's well-produced, but I find it a little hard to get around the 20+ year olds that are playing ~5-8 year olds.  The story is that Anne-Marie gets told by the Blue Fairy that she has to find her own magic by 0600, or...I guess you grow up and go into Marketing, or something.  Peter Pan comes by to help her figure out how to fly and we try not to let creepy thoughts enter in when he says he comes by to watch her through the window most nights.  On her way to finding her magic, there are many good production numbers and the regulation number of characters make their appearances to new and improved technical effects.

Anyway, I won't spoil it for you, but I'll just say that it doesn't end with Anne-Marie becoming an accountant.  At the end, Christiaan comes out and gives us last-minute information that he probably gave during the disembarkation talk that we ditched for Wall E (oh, we watched it on the TV later.)  He tells us we have to have our bags out by 11pm tomorrow night, and to make sure we don't pack everything, as every cruise there are families having to disembark in their nighties, with bare feet because they packed away all their stuff.  Now, I imagine the implications are more dire, as they now have direct airline check-in, which means the family that packs everything but their sleepwear is flying home in feet pajamas.

After a visit to the stateroom where we uncover our second animal of the day (and wonder where one of our pillows is,) we go down to dinner, which is the Captain's Gala menu tonight.

This is possibly our favorite menu of the trip, along with the Panama Canal menu.  For appetizers, we have the garlic shrimp and the Oysters Rockefeller which are excellent.  The entree is lobster tail again, and happily the green beans are a little more cooked than normal (perhaps the attacks at the Food Manager Q&A yesterday did some good?) If the rice is still a bit hard, well that's of little moment.  Dessert is a lava cake that resembles nothing so much as a Ho Ho, but which is pretty good.

We actually make it out in time for the adult cabaret which is somewhat underwhelming, and eventually take a turn around the big dessert buffet in Lumiere's.  This turns out to be more of an ordeal than I would have anticipated, as the line extends out the door, around the corner, and down the hallway.  As I'm waiting, one lady walks by jeering loudly "look at all the creepy people, waiting for dessert at a quarter to twelve!"  You Ma'am, are not magical. 

Inside, most of the desserts have been demolished in a surprisingly barbaric fashion--it literally looks like people have clawed chunks out of the cakes with their bare hands, which begs the question of how hungry do the people from early seating get?  Most the children in line seem primarily interested in the spun sugar/chocolate decorations that they pluck and cart off by the plateful.  It's an unholy mess, but everyone appears to have a wonderful time.

Plus, there's a chocolate fountain.  But no strawberries!  My God, Why Hath Thou Forsaken Me?!

Tomorrow:  Castaway Cay, and our last full day.

Day Thirteen: In Which We Enjoy Both Palo and Pirates.

Today we started the day off with our previously-designated character breakfast.  At the beginning of the cruise, everyone was given tickets with a certain date and time so as to make sure, I suppose, no one was overlooked by Mickey and his Gang.  Unlike the character breakfasts I've been to at the parks, where the characters circulate around multiple times, Mickey is apparently a little more pressed for time on the ship and only visits once.

On the whole, I think we find one time sufficient attention.  A Cast Member comes by to prep people, arrange them into groups, and then takes the photos with your camera.  I suppose it's more efficient, but as in so many instances, it loses some spontaneity. 

In an unfortunate example of counter-programming, most of the talks from the morning have finished by the time we're out, so we have a quick stroll and nap (discovering our new...blanket animal) before attending the Food and Beverage Q&A with the Food Managers of the ship. 

I thought this was rather interesting:  I was expecting questions like "how do you come up with the menus," but people apparently decided to use this as an opportunity to air grievances with the food, and ran more along the lines of "WHY DO YOU UNDERCOOK THE VEGETABLES?!"  "HOW COME I CAN'T GET FRESH SQUEEZED ORANGE JUICE?!"  Which was much more entertaining (Answer:  "Most people from the US like them that way," and "it's against Disney regulations.")  I consider adding "WHY ARE ALL THE CHOCOLATE-COVERED STRAWBERRIES GONE?!"  but decide that maybe one shouldn't say everything that one thinks. 

There were also a number of questions revolving around the masses of food we daily consume--I think they said it was something like 2000 cookies a day.  "They say it's the children," Executive Chef Patrick says, "but there are only 600 children on board..."  I think since leaving LA, we've polished off something like 20,000 lbs of chicken, and other numbers too horrifying to remember.  They mention that all the food they use must come from approved vendors, which mostly means all the food, even the food we picked up in Aruba, had to be shipped in from either LA or Orlando. 

After that was over, we fought our way through the masses of people lined up for the Ally and AJ autograph session (did I forget to mention?  They were the big, headliner act the night before.  Apparently they're super big amongst the teens.  Not knowing them, we skipped out on their show to save spots for those who would desire them more, and also our eardrums) to get to the towel folding seminar.  This was put on by a group of the cabin stewards, some of which seem to know quite a quantity of animals.  We like the pig.

I still think the towels may be starched or something, because no matter how many times we see them being made, they never come out quite as well with the shabby towels we have at home.  Still, it's diverting.

Another lull in the activities looms, forcing us to indulge in more strolling, shopping, and napping.  The weather continues fine, despite multiple storm warnings.  The Captain has announced that we will change our route, but not our itinerary, in order to miss the bad weather.

The internet connection, always touchy when we're far off from a port, only allows me to download but not upload today.  At least I am able to enjoy the air conditioning in the adult-only coffee bar, Cove Cafe while trying to connect.

This evening's show is the Crew's Talent Show which shows a broad range of abilities from many of the cast members and personalities we've met throughout the cruise.  Christiaan, the cruise director, does breakdancing and acrobatics; Amy, the art auctioneer balances a deck lounger on her chin; the guest services department re-enacts "Thriller;" Ponz, the origami instructor sings; and "Ducky" Williams participates in "Dancing With The Officers."

We make tracks after the show to get ready for our dinner at Palo, and our evening of gluttony commences.

The thing about Palo, is that they pretty much force-feed you.  Even if you try to keep your orders manageable, they'll just start bringing you extra stuff anyway.  We have a plate of antipasto, an appetizer of fried calimari (much better than the previous fried calimari from the main dining room) and a 4-cheese pizza which is excellent, then grilled pesto shrimp with portabello mushrooms and a tuna tartar plate. 

The shrimp is cooked perfectly...the ahi could be a little more flavorful, but that could be because it's sliced so thin as to be translucent.  Interesting to note that the portion sizes of all the food in general--Palo too--seems to have been reduced, perhaps to eliminate waste from people not finishing anything.  As an example, here's the shrimp salad from last December, and then from the December before that:

On the whole, although dinner at Palo is still an event you'd hate to miss, it's definitely dropped in value in the last 2 years.  Not only has the charge gone up from $10 to $15 per person, but before they used to say that the charge included the gratuity, which it no longer does--which increases the price a good bit as well.  Mom thinks the brunch is much better than the dinner.

We then have a mid-meal sorbet for the essential palate cleansing, and then have something of a lengthy wait for our entrees.  Apparently there's an APB alert out that we insist on taking at least 2 1/2 hours to eat dinner each night.

The lobster ravioli are terrific, notwithstanding the fact that I get a piece of shell in one, as are the lamb and the tenderloin.  Mom is taken aback at the onion rosettes, which she initially takes for mushrooms, but it's all delicious and overly-filling.

But don't think we're done--no one's going anywhere until we get our chocolate souffles.

Our server throws in a vanilla/mascarpone panna cotta just to make sure we explode.

It's also Pirate Night tonight, for which there is an after-dinner Pirates In the Caribbean deck party that involves about 30-60 minutes of high-energy dancing, followed by a short character sketch, and fireworks, accompanied by a Pirate buffet.  It's amusing that about this time in the dinner, you see all these formally-dressed folks flinging the checks at the waiters and dashing out yelling "PIRATE NIGHT" behind them, as way of explanation.  I overhear one person at a different table grousing a bit about the deck parties:  "...and then the cast members shout 'EVERYBODY DANCE!'...No! I want to see Minnie tied to train tracks!  Cannons going off!  Mickey flying in on wires!  This is Disney!  They can do this!"  There is, perhaps, some truth in this.

We go out to join the party and enjoy the fireworks.

It is a crowded, windy madhouse, but everyone seems to be having a raucous good time.  Mickey does swing in on a wire to save the day from Captain Hook who continues to have Chronomentrophobia.

We swing by the buffet to check out the decorations, which are fabboo, but are way too full to eat anything.  Besides, after the shrimp and lobster and steak and souffles, the tacos and chicken wings seem a little plebeian.

After a great deal of energetic dancing (some by Christiaan again--we wonder at his energy!) the party comes to an end, and we retire back to find our second blanket animal of the day.

We are not sure whether he's run out of towel animals that he knows, or if he's just taken to using the blanket in an effort to stop us from saving them, now that we've run out of room on the furniture to store them.  In any case, we collapse asleep, trying not to think of the rapidly diminishing days ahead of us.

Tomorrow:  Our last Day at Sea.