UNPACKING

Sooooo, it’s been a month.  We’re back in Canada, have recovered from time zone hopping, survived the 2026 version of Covid, and are trying to get on with our lives.  In my absence no one volunteered to take over cooking meals for the rest of eternity so I’ve had to step back into that role, and as I am the only one who knows how to online bank around here I’m back to paying the bills too.  Give it another week or two and the whole experience of no cooking or cleaning or other duties will have swirled into a fantasy – a dream that I thought I had once upon a time.

Before that happens though, I’m going to record a few more memories.

Firstly, a little advice to my future self in case I ever take another trip: you know the line “dress for the job you want, not for the one you have?  Well, when choosing clothes for a trip, pack for the weather you’re going to have, not the weather you want to have.  And since, weather being weather, you don’t know what that will be, then pack for everything. 

I packed for spring in Europe, although I had never been to Europe in the spring, so what did I know?  I wore one warmer outfit there because I started out in Canada, and took another similar one because I would be returning to Canada, but everything else in my suitcase was a very poor choice.  The quandary every morning was how to dress warm enough while still managing not to look recycled.  T-shirts I had intended to wear on their own became the base of a typical three layer combo just to keep me from shivering all day.  On the dry days I wore my fluffy coat on top, on the wet days I wore my water repellent coat on top, but I wore them both at the same time several times.  The only thing that made this a little more bearable was that a lot of the other passengers seemed to be in the same fix.  We had all packed for the weather we wanted.  We were all in the same boat … get it?  Same boat? 

Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.

Secondly, remember it’s a small, small world. 

So you’re sitting there, in the ship’s lounge in the evening and you strike up a conversation with a couple with British accents.  The ship has a wide range of nationalities: Canadian, Australian, South African, English, Irish, and a few Americans.  You ask where they are from and find that they have had quite the interesting life – originally from England, worked in South Africa, lived in Montreal, retired to Florida and were headed to visit family in Britain after this cruise before they went home.  Then they asked where I was from.  My story seems pretty tiny after their travels so I just say Canada.  They say where in Canada?  I say Saskatchewan, thinking they might know where that is if they lived in Montreal.  They smile and say where in Saskatchewan?  I say the far southeast corner.  There say where?  I give them ‘close to the landmark place of the Moose Mountain Provincial Park’.  One more time they say where?  What’s the name of your town?  I say Redvers.  They laugh and say Virden!  They had re-retired to Virden to be close to their daughter and grandchildren.  What are the chances? 

Well, pretty high because less than 24 hours later I had almost the same conversation with someone from Vancouver who knew where Redvers was because her grandmother lived in Carievale.  Note to self- always behave yourself; your stories will follow you home.

I have to say though, the best part was sharing this trip with my sisters.  I mean this on lots of levels – the shared experiences, the time to be together and just visit, but the most fun this time was that in the casual atmosphere of fellow travellers on a ship for a week, people kept mixing us up. 

I will admit that even though there are 17 years difference in our ages we do look very similar.  Of course, Wendy and I are much happier about being mistake for baby sister Amy than she is being mistaken for one of us, but them’s the breaks, eh Amy?  One morning I walked up to the breakfast chef’s station to order my omelet and he tried to give me one already made.  I said I hadn’t ordered yet.  He insisted I had.  Then I saw Amy approaching and I asked the chef if I had been wearing a green shirt before?  He laughed and paid closer attention after that.

We do have matching sweaters, the potential to escalate was very real.

But, it’s back to reality now, and there really is no place like home – although this meal prep life sentence until the end of time seems a bit extreme.  I’m sure glad I’ve recorded all this so I can refer back to happier times while peeling potatoes or stirring chili or washing dishes or folding laundry or vacuuming floors ….