I’m an introvert. Those who truly know me (and I can count their numbers on the fingers of a saw miller) know that I can sing and dance with the best of them but then I have to have a hole to crawl into. I know sympathy from you won’t come easy but, listen. I have no hole on this ship.
Our river barge is named the Monarch Empress. This week’s crew numbers 35 and its passengers number 135. There are 3 decks of cabins and a “sun”deck (as if). It is really nice. The cabins are roomy, the shower large, and the storage place plentiful.
Still. No hole.
I haven’t slept this trip. Hello, darkness my old friend. I was doing so well at home with Dr. Shawn’s regiment but eating before 6 and having no stimuli two hours before bed is not an option. I’m back on Lunesta for the time being. I’ve just started reading the Tiger Woods biography. Can’t wait to get to the part where he goes wacky on Ambien (like me on Lunesta, without the odd sexual behavior. I’ve been told).
Yesterday we did a canal boat tour and a bus tour of Amsterdam and the highlight was that Joan and I both slept on the bus. Joan’s not getting much sleep either and Tommy has the mother of all coughs. We’re a pretty banged up crew but for The Husband. His body does what bodies are supposed to do no matter the time zone. “Teach me how to sleep and poop in Amsterdam!” I beg. He just looks at me with doe eyes. Straight pity but no help.
We saw a windmill on the bus tour. It is one of only 1,100 that remain in the Nederlands today. Or that’s what I thought I heard while sleeping.
We went back to town on our own in order to visit the Bag and Purse Museum. I know. Sounds ridiculous but the burly sea captain of our canal cruise said “Do it” and our bus tour guide said “Do it” and my friend, Damien, said “Do it. So we did it. It was pretty interesting. Imma go back to buy a purse when we come back through.
Last night we left Amsterdam and traveled God knows where to God knows what. I can’t get Google Earth. We are somewhere between Amsterdam and Belgium in a town called Nijmegen. The others are currently off the barge taking a walking tour of this town which was hard hit during WWII. I will have The Husband tour me again later without aid of that stupid little listening device and the guide flag (though he might want to carry the guide flag, that’s just his speed).
I now have the whole barge as my hidey hole and hope to be fully charged for the afternoon trip to a museum whose name sounds like Roly Poly. Turns out Dutch is not my thing.
Here in my hidey hole, I opened the cabin windows to take in the beautiful sites of Nijmegen and was met with this. A wall of metal, presumably a dock? I’m in total isolation down here.
Careful what you pray for.