Author: donhall930

In 1901 an American tourist and industrialist visited the island of Spitsbergen in the Archipelago of Svalbard. He was shown an example of coal from nearby coal mines, and the rest is proverbial history. Buying up the local claims and setting up shop on the coast of the nearby Adventfjorden, John Munro Longyear started up his new venture, the Arctic Coal Company and his base soon became known as Longyear Town, or locally as Longyearbyen, which is our next port of call and can now be seen off the starboard rail.

                                Rumor has it that this eclectic collection of international peeps has suggested that they change the name of their home twice a year to Longdaybyen and Longnightbyen according to that big yellow thing that is either above the horizon or below it every six months. Currently it is above, giving the region 24 hours of sunlight a day. In between, of course, there are days of a twilight kind of effect…… the light does not act as if the wall switch was just flipped!

                                Longyearbyen hosts a highly diverse, international community with nearly 50 (!) nationalities represented among its roughly 2,300 residents. This unique demographic makeup is driven by the Svalbard Treaty, which grants citizens of signatory countries the equal right to live and work on the archipelago without a visa or standard Norwegian Residence Permit. They just need to have a job and be able to support themselves.

                                But…… they cannot die here or be born here!

                                Yes, if you’re gonna croak best get yourself to the mainland since that’s where you will end up anyway because there are no burials allowed there. The permafrost preserves bodies instead of letting them gradually decompose. This is an issue because if you are carrying baddies in your body then they too are preserved, giving them an opportunity to inadvertently infect again!

                                As for being born….. there’s nothing to stop that, but the practice is to transfer to the mainland several weeks before your due date because the local clinic is fine for basic medical care but lacks any kind of specialty equipment. Hence the departure, and the hopefully joyful return!

                                Longyearbyen is considered the northernmost permanent settlement in the world sitting at 78 degrees North Latitude or 816 miles from the North Pole. In comparison, NYC is about 3500 miles from the Pole. There are other research settlements that are farther North, but none of them are ‘permanent’.

                     More later after our visit to a dog sled camp ….. woof!

And our First Port of Call

                                After a quiet morning walking around our local downtown section of Reykjavik, we headed for the ship! The Viking Neptune is considered, and falls into, the ‘Small Ship” category when it comes to cruise vessels. She is still plenty large enough to accommodate 930 passengers. Weighing in at about 49,000 GRT (Gross Registered Tons) and 735 feet long, she is quite a bit smaller than what we usually sail on. The smallest Princess vessels, the Island, and the Coral, are almost 1000 feet long and weigh in at 91,000 GRT and will hold twice as many passengers. But bigger is not necessarily better as smaller ships can access ports that either are off-limits to larger ones, or they would need to tender in to shore.

First, let’s look around Reykjavik!

Back to the ship……

                                Embarking only 930 passengers is far easier to do than the larger vessels and it shows. The entire process took about seven minutes! (of course, so much of the important stuff is done ‘online’ nowadays). The Neptune is only three years old and definitely not in need of any refurbishment any time soon. As you may imagine, Viking takes very good care of their vessels. Interestingly, all of their ‘Ocean Ships’ are built exactly with the same specifications and layout. The only differences would be style and décor, and then of course, age.

I would say that our stateroom is about average for a cruise ship, except for the bathroom. Here that category of ‘average’ goes off the scale! The storage for items is notably more than others and the shower may be twice the size!

One overnight and we arrived in our first Port, that of Isafjordur. It’s way up on top of Iceland, rather remote as you may imagine and its sole reason for existence is fishing. Its name does not include the word fjord for nothing as it sits nicely down in one of those deep, protective geological marine devices!

It’s crazy how the Cruise Industry morphs local economies, for good or bad……. only the locals can decide. Isafjordur began accepting cruise excursions around 36 years ago in the early 1990’s. Nothing was official until 1994 when a local tour operator opened up shop and prior to the Covid Stall, almost 100,000 passengers per year had made their way into town. While we were there an additional two ships were berthed and I counted a total of seven buses at the waterfalls that we visited.

That’s it for now, two days of “Day’s at Sea” coming up…… it’ll give me a chance to catch up on all of this!

As exciting as it was to see the waterfalls, geyser, and the rest of the Golden Circle on our first day, our second day was that much better because we experienced something of a novelty around here….. sunshine! Not that the sun never peeks out, but according to the locals, getting days in a row of it is a rarity.

                                We were happy for our one day.

                     Solrun picked us up at 8:30 and we were a bit more energetic than the previous day after the flight and time difference. That was a good thing because we had a FULL day in front of us. It’s not that Iceland is overly large, (it’s about the size of West Virginia) it’s that there is a definite amount of driving need to get from good spot, to great spot, to incredible spot! It’s a good thing that the landscapes in between are noteworthy in their own right.

                     Our destination for the day was the South Shore which has Black Sand Beaches, cool Waterfalls, views of the Glaciers, and PUFFINS! Solrun did a magnificent job of ferrying us from place to place, skipping some for later in order to arrive at a spot earlier than the other tourons, and then getting us back there after those same had vacated!

I have a confession to make.

I lied to you all.

It was innocent enough…..

I must have lost some brain function as of late because I promised you that there would be no Tectonic Plate discussions forthcoming.

But here we are at Tectonic Central!

The Actual Place where we can SEE the convergence/divergence of two of the Earth’s basic plates in action! The Eurasian and North American Plates here in Iceland show that rift between those plates as makes its way all the way to the surface in dramatic fashion. Volcanoes, earthquakes, and tremors galore illustrate Tectonic Action better than I could ever do!

But I’ll save that for later and try my best to keep it to a minimum!

                                We departed Newark with little fanfare which is the sign of a good flight. The goal on these overnight flights is to try and get as much sleep as possible. ‘Possible’ being the operative word here. Lots of distractions on planes so some semblance of restraint is necessary. Movies, snacks, libations, and full dinners are the ones to try and avoid because everything else is also trying to keep you from sleeping. I was mildly successful…. no dinner, no movies, just a double Baileys and some pretzels!

                                The issue came after we had successfully (phew!) landed in Reykjavik and taxied up to the gate assigned to us. The usual hustle and bustle of us passengers disengaging our seatbelts before we were supposed to, just waiting for the opportunity to jump up, grab whatever and crowd the aisle. We did all of that with the precision of an F1 Team but then we waited….. and waited….. and waited…

                     The main door did not open. Never.

                     Looking outside we spied the issue. The Jet Bridge Driver was gallantly attempting to get that contraption to get close enough to the side of the aircraft to release us from our confinement.

                                Attempt after attempt was……. attempted.

                     It got to the point where we all wanted to get out and say, “Let me do it!” It seemed simple enough, just grab the joystick and maneuver it over and be done with it! But apparently it was more serious than that cuz even the maintenance guy could not get it to snuggle up! We watched for an hour. Yup…. one hour.

                                Eventually they rolled one of those old-fashioned stairways up to the rear of the aircraft and we deplaned row by row from the rear! AAAARG! Here we are in Row 4, anticipating a timely exit because we have a Tours by Locals tour beginning as soon as we can get ourselves through the system and off to the hotel. Needless to say, the one hour turned into two and then we still needed to get through Customs, etc. We were the first to arrive for the day, which means that we’d have been inside with zero lines in the Official Area, but now we’re mingled in with the ‘others’. More delays.

                                Finally, we made it out of the Airport courtesy of Viking’s transfer driver, Ollie. All this time I’ve been in contact with Solrun (she is our TBL Guide for the next two days). She waited patiently for us to arrive at the hotel and get ‘processed’ and have some breakfast. Introductions completed, she suggested a change to our itinerary as we had lost those two hours. Instead of trying to complete a tour of the Snaefellsnes Peninsula, which required quite a drive just to get to, she suggested the tried-and-true Golden Circle. This is the requisite tour just outside of Reykjavik which is sizeable in its own right. We were trying to avoid this as it could get quite crowded, but we yielded to Solrun’s advice and away we went.

                     Just as we had feared, the weather was not what would be considered ideal. But at least it didn’t rain….. much. I’m afraid that there will be no gorgeous landscape photography to ponder over as sunlight is a key ingredient of the same. But we did see some really cool waterfalls and geysers, and we had lunch at a unique spot…. a place that grows 40% of Iceland’s tomatoes, in huge greenhouses. And inside of them they serve lunch, most of which consists of several versions of their homemade tomato soup and incredible bread! As it turned out, all of this completely filled our day and we returned back at the hotel around 6:00 pm.

                                Dinner was had across the street at a place reminiscent of a food court but with a nice twist. Instead of a bunch of fast-food joints there were small individual high-end kitchens that were individually owned and operated. They shared the dining area, the plates and silverware were real, there was a bar for liquor sales, and each had its own ‘beeper’ system that allowed them to carefully prepare your meal without a long line queued up in front of them impatiently waiting for their dinners to be presented. I had a wonderful Linguini Carbonara that ruined any chances of me repeating that dish anywhere else because it was the best one I’ve ever had! So now I need to fly to Vietnam for a haircut and Iceland for Linguini Carbonara. I can see how this could get expensive!

Well, here we are……. In about sixteen hours we will be winging our way to Iceland, the first stop on our Northern Nordic Navigational Nirvana. I may have reached a bit too far in my Alliterative Attempt there but considering how long I’ve wanted to visit Iceland and Svalbard, maybe not!

We will be aboard the Viking Neptune for the next two weeks and if all goes nicely you will be seeing some stunning photographs of what we will be experiencing! The ‘stunning’ aspect has nothing to do with my ability to render a photo and everything to do with what Mother Nature has laid out in front of us, for our (and your) viewing pleasure. The only caveat is the projected weather forecast which, so far, is not working in our favor. We shall see. I may need to resort to dramatic Black and White photos that seem to look good when Color is not in the cards.

This will be our first Cruise aboard a Viking Ocean Ship so be prepared for some comments about that aspect of this voyage. This ship is smaller than what we are accustomed to as Viking operates at a different level than the larger ships that we are usually on with Princess. Last year we did a Viking River Cruise and found Viking to be as Top-Notch as their reputation insinuates, I’m quite confident that all of that will transfer nicely to their Ocean Ships.

The Voyage begins in Iceland and then goes waaaaay up to Svalbard before turning southward towards the Norwegian Coast where we will hopscotch down the coast visiting little fishing villages and the like. We disembark in Bergen, where we fly home to Newark via Munich.

The best part is Svalbard and to appreciate where this place is you will need to have map or better yet, a globe in front of you…. go ahead, I’ll wait……..

                     OK! Now find Iceland and then travel way up and to the east until you see a patch of islands that are too far north to support any kind of normal civilization. I say normal because there are a bunch of folks that call Svalbard home year-round. That fact might be considered abnormal only because they choose to live their lives in either total darkness or total daylight! We will be there in 100% daylight, no matter what time of day it is and you can bet you’re going to get a Lesson on this anomaly, sans (thankfully I’m sure you are thinking) any references to Tectonic Plates!

So get ready, meet us in Terminal B at Newark Airport, passports in hand, and you can board with us, we should all try and stick together for logistics sake. We will be disembarking in Reykjavik and immediately embarking on a Two-Day Excursion courtesy of or favs at Tours-by-Locals…. no time to waste!

Please be dressed accordingly.

“By the time we got to Woodstock we were half a million strong…..”

                        (Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young 1970)

                        So there she sat, alone in her NYC hotel room watching on TV the mayhem that would define the times, as it unfolded upstate in the fields of a local dairy farm. Joni Mitchell missed Woodstock because of a Dick Cavett Show commitment that same weekend. But she still managed to write the defining anthem of that experience, thus enlightening us again with her ability to bring life to musical notes. She recorded it on the album of hers that she was currently working on, but it didn’t strike that proverbial chord within us until her boyfriend, David Crosby of CSN&Y, suggested that they include it on one of the albums that we all had at the time DéjàVu.

                                    So, by now, you’re probably wondering where all of this is going.

                                    I will tell you.

                                    We’re going to Woodstock.

                                    This time we’re not “a half a million strong”, just the two of us and about 15,000 of our best friends and we’re going to see James Taylor at the Bethel Woods Performing Arts Center which sits smack-dab on the properties that were the site of the now infamous festival.

                                    The Backstory.

                                    It’s early 1969 and the promoters of this festival are getting a lot of pushback from the residents of the town of Woodstock, NY. The town of Woodstock was already a haven of sorts for artists and musicians (Bob Dylan frequented the hamlet) so the promoters wanted to capitalize on this and sought to build a recording studio (OK) and have a big, outdoor, three-day concert, (not OK).

                                    Now pressed for time as the deals had already been signed with the performers, they scoured the nearby towns for one that would allow them to hold their festival (nope, nope, and NOPE!) Until, about forty miles away, they came upon a child of God (like the way I wove that in???!!!) who owned a dairy farm. Max Yasgur agreed to let them use his 600-acre farm for the festival. If you mistakenly travel to that little town of Woodstock (which does have an exit on the NY State Thruway) and ask for directions to the concert grounds they will say, “Go West young man!” while pointing that way (about 50 miles or so) to the even smaller town of Bethel, deep in the area known as the Borscht Belt. (more on that in a little bit)

                                    And now it is really safe to say…. and the rest is history.

                                    My sleeping bag made it to Woodstock courtesy of my friend’s sister. She scoured the neighborhood for camping supplies to borrow. I never saw my sleeping bag again……. and now that I think about it fifty-seven years later, I never received an apology or an offer to pay for it. Oh well.

                                    I told you just a minute ago that we would further explore the Borscht Belt (and show our age at the same time) so here goes…… Henny Youngman, Sid Caesar, Jackie Mason, Woodie Allen, Joan Rivers, Mel Brooks, Rodney Dangerfield, Buddy Hackett…… and the list goes on, and on, and on……

                                    I am positive that you all remember them! The common threads that run through that list are several, the two main ones are that those folks are Jewish, and they cut their teeth in stand-up comedy at the various clubs and resorts in the Catskill Region that catered to vacationing NYC inhabitants, dubbed “The Borscht Belt”.  Note the past tense of the word ‘catered’ as these once world-renowned businesses no longer exist. Their demise was brought about by several factors, air conditioning being one of them as the City became more tolerable with this modern appliance. Jet travel took some more folks that instead of spending a few weeks up in the mountains, they jetted off to far-away places during their vacations. And of course, Time changes everything, including habits and norms, kids don’t want to follow what their parents did, so gradually the business eroded to the point of no return and now there are only a very small handful of old Jewish resorts left upstate, and these have evolved into a more modern version of their ancestors. I’m sure that you’ve seen Dirty Dancing, this movie takes place in the heart of the Catskill Region and toys with the idea that those days are numbered. Another good one that combines the bungalow life, and Woodstock is “A Walk on the Moon” set in the summer of ’69.

The Borscht Belt shares that nomenclature with other areas of the States such as the Bible Belt, the Sun Belt, the Rust Belt, etc. and as far as the borscht part is concerned, that comes from the traditional Eastern European (but mostly Ukrainian Jewish) dish of the same name. Plus…. it is nicely alliterative!

                                    I grew up in this part of the country (the greater NYC Metropolitan area), and I remember as a kid watching on TV all of the advertisements for the resorts upstate, each with its own jingle and motto. There was the Nevele, Brown’s, the Concord, and of course, Grossinger’s and hundreds of other Jewish owned and operated hotels, resorts, and bungalow communities in the area. There is a Borscht Belt Museum and many Historical Markers in that area. It is worth the drive if you are in any way local to see what was back in the day. The Museum does a fine job in bringing you back to those times.

                                    The genesis of this trip is the James Taylor concert, this coming Thursday night.  James and I go way back, I think it was 1971. I was so enamored with him that I found out all that I could about him, both positive and negative, and even unearthed a rare recording of him and his group The Flying Machine from 1967. (this is not the Flying Machine that sang “Smile a Little Smile for Me, Rosemarie”) Anyway, I heard rumblings that this may be his last tour and that he may retire from Touring, so I hastened to my laptop, dug out my credit card with the most Available Credit on it and brought up Ticketmaster on the screen. I headed right up front, center, but not the first row as I have found that the first row is not the best seat in the house……  unless you are attending a Chocolate Concert and free samples are being distributed from the stage! I then went to the Camping Module and booked a spot for Miss Biggie so we’re going to take her up there. The Center has both a very accomplished Museum and a nicely laid out campground and RV Park.

Our plan is to then proceed west from there, out to DuBois, in mid Pennsylvania where Sherry’s moms Celebration of Life will be held on Saturday.

                                    We will return to Northern NJ on Sunday.

            In time for me to report to St. Barnabas on Monday.

                                    Film at 11.

                                    It’s always good when that proverbial Silver Lining sticks its head out. In my case this reclusive entity was sitting just north of my spleen on that CAT scan that was rapidly ordered when I made that hasty rendezvous with the guardrail on Rt. 24 a few weeks ago.

                                    Had I not made ‘contact’ and necessitated further investigations, then it may have been a while until the disruptive aortic valve in my heart was discovered. As it was, apparently this little guy is bad enough that it almost took precedence over the spleen, but what good is a heart valve if there’s no blood to pump through it, hence they stopped the bleeding first.

                                    The past week has been a flurry of Doctor’s appointments, each one checking off its own little box on the MDL (Must-Do List ) before valve replacement surgery. Luckily, I am a candidate for the MIP (Minimally Invasive Procedure) that has an IHSR (Incredibly High Success Rate), and I should be able to RTC (Report to Training Camp) the next day and resume a full workout regime. Well, that may be slight exaggeration because I will need to spend a night in the hospital with the Breakout scheduled for the next day…..unless. Unless I fall into the 10% of the peeps that end up needing a pacemaker. This is only because of the proximity of the Valve and the Circuit Breaker Panel that is really close to it. Sometimes they don’t get along and need a mediator to calm things down, and that guy is the pacemaker. If that happens, I’ll be in the Slammer for an extra day.

                                    Then…. watch out! ‘Cuz I will be at 100% and that will make all the difference! Apparently, my AVA (Aortic Valve Area) has been somewhat compromised. Also known as Aortic Stenosis this valuation is as follows:

                                    Normal: > 2.0 cm²

                                                Mild Stenosis:1.5-2.0 cm²

                                                Moderate Stenosis: 1.0- 1.5 cm²

                                                Severe Stenosis: < 1.0 cm²

                        I clock in at a whopping < 0.7 cm²

When we went to the Cardio Guy he had a nifty video to show us. It was a visual explanation of how the procedure was accomplished, from the initial incision, through the ‘balloon’ thing opening the bad valve, to the insertion of the new valve being nestled right in, on top of, the old valve, and it begins working immediately as it is really only a ‘check valve’ that works mechanically when the heart pumps blood out. Currently mine is not opening enough and is making the heart work harder to get the blood out. In hindsight, with all the ramifications of the lack of blood flow, I’m betting that a good many of my ‘issues’ (including the sleepiness) may be traced back to this.

                                                That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it!

                        All of these festivities are scheduled for Monday the 22^nd, This time I’ll be at St. Barnabas only because Morristown won’t have me any more after that failed break out attempt that had the S.W.A.T. team fully engaged!(see previous Post 😊)

                        I am sure that there are better ways to lose a few pounds but being the optimist that I am, I’ll put a positive spin on this! And ‘spin’ may be the operative word here because that’s what started my ‘crash’ diet a few days ago. Well, maybe not the spin as that came a few microseconds after my car whammied the center guardrail on Route 24 Westbound in Madison, N.J. and that whammerization came a few more microseconds after I fell asleep whilst driving.

                        For those of you that I have been around me over the past year or so and have had the pleasure (?) of having me nod off in mid-sentence, you know that this affliction can strike at any time. In this case, it was just a normal Sunday afternoon, on my way home from Chatham, where Paula’s son Matt and his family live. I did not get too far, maybe only ten minutes out when ‘Zzzzzzz’ happened (with no warning) and I woke up in time to witness the Honda slam into the guardrail after traveling from the right lane, across the left lane and shoulder to impact the guardrail. We (the Honda and me) then careened back into the two westbound lanes, spinning several times until we reversed ourselves (still spinning) and re-crossed those same lanes until we ended up back in the center median on some very nicely greened grass. The driver’s side window airbag deployed which hindered my unhasty exit from the vehicle as I was still wonky and I remember feeling bad because I was going to cause a traffic jam on RT. 24 and everyone hates traffic jams on that road. I was quite embarrassed standing outside the offending (but innocent) vehicle.

                        I got back in via the passenger side and looked for my phone which had beat a hasty exit from its windshield window holder. I found it hiding in a rather remote place in between the seats and console, I am sure that it was quite scared as it had a front row seat (until impact) of the whole situation.

                        Several cars had stopped across the road and with many gestures asked if I was ok. I gave them the ‘thumbs-up’ signal as I was sure that I was just fine, maybe a little embarrassed, and feeling quite guilty for making the event that we were afraid of come true.  You know that feeling, the “I told you so” scenario, dreading the facing of those that had muttered that phrase before. It’s funny the stuff that goes through your brain at times like this.

                                    My phone was begging to be made useful, so I calmly (?) dialed 911 and proceeded to report what happened. Luckily, I came to a stop exactly across from the 4.4-mile marker, so I felt quite official reporting my position to the dispatcher. It only took a few minutes for everyone to arrive and I mean everyone. I’m guessing that they all needed to get out of the house because I didn’t think that my little fender-bender required the level of response that was quickly arriving at the scene. It seemed as if they all materialized out of thin air because when I finished with my second call, the one to Paula, on scene were no less than five police cars, an EMT-ish-looking vehicle, a fire truck, a tow truck, and the official ambulance rig.

                                    The Officials convinced me that I needed to take a ride in that ambulance instead of having Paula just drop by and whisk me away from this mess. This is the start of the ‘Hindsight Episodes’ that only make sense in that vein, and when recalled later one asks themselves, “What were you thinking!!!???”

                                    It was a good thing that I took that ride, more on that a little later. In the meantime, I walked to the ambulance as they took the Honda away, clambered in and found a seat. The guys were nice and we had a pleasant conversation on the way to Morristown Medical Center. They suggested that I should lie down on the stretcher, I protested, and they then said, “We can’t pull up to the Emergency Room with you just walking out of the rig, believe us, it will go much better with you on the stretcher.” That was the second Hindsight Episode that occurred because they immediately got me into the Trauma Unit, which again looking back, made all the difference in what happened next.

                                    By then Paula had been dropped off and found me down outside Trauma Room 2 because I had my cell phone on me and had texted her my location. There I was in the hallway waiting my turn in a triage of sorts when Paula looked over at me and I said, “I don’t feel so good” as my eyesight dimmed and the edges of my vision darkened and moved inwards. She looked at me and quickly ran to find an official-type person who upon arrival took another look at me and quickly wheeled me into an adjacent trauma room.

“BP dropping! 50 over 30! No time to cross and type-match, hang a unit of O negative” It may not have been exactly like that, but remember I was somewhat compromised by this time. It turned out that after a CAT scan and a few other diagnostic tools being implemented, it was determined that my spleen had been put through an abnormal amount of physical abuse and had decided to bleed on me internally. I guess it’s what you can’t see that’s the scariest. (Just ask those swimmers in Jaws!)

                                    They ended up giving me two units of the good stuff.

                                    Had I just had Paula pick me up from the scene and gone home like I thought I could have……

                                    I guess I should apologize for the lack of pretty photos attached to this Post as there really are none to be found, except maybe this one.

                                    By now you’ve probably surmised that I was going to be staying in Morristown for a few days. I can personally attest to the Quality of Care slathered upon me by the staff in the ICU. I spent about three days there flat on my back waiting for hemoglobin numbers to be reported. Apparently, they are the bellwethers of internal bleeding. My numbers steadily improved thanks to the emergency procedure with a Fancy Name that was performed on me soon after it was determined that I had that internal bleeding issue. Its name is Radiational Splenic Artery Embolization, and it is a minimally invasive procedure that jams little coils into the bad parts which stops the bleeding (good) but eventually kills a part of the spleen (bad) but the spleen has a Pep Rally for itself and heals somewhat (despite all of this) in about two months (good). I am forbidden to do certain activities during this time period as further agitation of the spleen could hinder its recovery (bad). I cannot do things that are obviously trauma inducing but some other items are added to the list such as ‘ladder climbing’. This is not because the spleen is afraid of heights, it’s because if I fell off of the ladder, I would immediately be into that previous category of Trauma Inducing Activities. I was also forbidden to report to Training Camp until I got an All-Clear from my doctor. The Giants were not happy.

                                    I spent about those days in the ICU flat on my back, not moving at all. The scariest part of this was my Restless Leg Syndrome (RLS) which I am the Poster Child for that usually has me on the verge of Panic Attacks if I feel that I am in a position that I cannot get out of…… like the middle seat of  Regular Coach (sardine) Class with the Fasten Seatbelt sign glaring at me. Now not only am I unable to move (it hurts too much) but I’m confined to the bed with all of the ‘stuff’ attached to me.

                                    Ok, so go ahead and ask The Question.

                                    “Gee Donny, how do you go to the bathroom?”

                                    I’m glad you asked that Mr. Bedpan! Actually, since I was on a diet that inspired the title of this Post, (namely Clear Liquids) I was spared the need to use that barbaric instrument of embarrassment.

                                    “Well, what about, you know, going #1?”

                                    This activity is automatically taken care of by an even more barbaric instrument named Mr. Catheter. But I am happy to report that after some initial ‘discomfort’ (their term NOT mine!) things settled down and #1 was taken care of and I didn’t even think about it! For the time I was in the ICU, there were no numerous nightly trips to the bathroom!

                                    While I was in the ICU, I studied really hard so that I could pass those numerous Hemoglobin Blood Tests. Apparently, all of that studying paid off because the numbers improved enough for me to be transferred to a regular room ‘upstairs’. I was released into the custody of another Warden but not before they unhooked some of my apparati, and ‘untethered’ me from that nifty device that removed the need for those nightly bathroom visits, so FREE! I was to join the inmates upstairs.  

                                    They put me in a bed with one of those pads on it that signals when you get out of bed. Apparently Nurse Ratched determined that I was a Fall Risk. Couple that with the remaining assorted tubes and wires that would have strangled me if I had fallen and you can understand why they are so adamant about following their In Bed/Out Bed Classification.

                                     Unfortunately, I inadvertently tested their system. All I wanted to do was innocently dangle my legs over the side of the bed. This necessitated some movement that that ‘pad’ didn’t like. It took me a long time to even get into a position that remotely resembled an attempt to get near the side of the bed when all of a sudden screeching alarms sounded throughout the complex, automatic doors slammed shut, the Hospital S.W.A.T. team scrambled, and the team member stationed on the roof rappelled down and came crashing through my window. Meekly I wiggled my way back onto the “pad” and resumed the position. Unfortunately, my roommate almost succumbed to a Heart Attack when the guy broke through the window. He hastily requested to be assigned to a different room.

                                    The staff upstairs was equally as good as those in the ICU but a little more obsessed with my bodily fluids/ extracts that I was holding back until I got the All Clear from BMFC (Bowel Movement Flight Control) so that I would not have to use the aforementioned (and distained) Bed Pan. (How’s that for a run-on sentence!) There are no boundaries when it comes to this subject either. Questions like “have you pooped yet?” get asked in anyone’s company and after a while you don’t care anyway! And the term ‘pooped’ has somehow replaced the more refined nomenclature term of Bowel Movement (BM).

                                    This subject is bantered around with such regularity (pun intended!) that there are now random PA announcements ….

                                    “Attention everyone! Let’s all congratulate Mr. Hall in Room 139, Bed 2  as he has now won the right to claim his free extra dessert this evening for his first Post-op Poop Episode! Stop in anytime and give him a High Five if he’s not in the bathroom!”

                                    Now let’s talk about those ‘gowns’ that everyone is issued upon incarceration and are impossible to figure out how to tie closed. Apparently, there are five(?) ties involved, one is kind of inside, and attaches somewhere, but who would ever have figured that one out! Two up top, and the last two around back. And this all needs to be done behind you where you can’t see. Having an ‘assistant’ becomes mandatory and there’s not someone always around. Again, there is an air of informality that envelopes the premises because it is futile to keep everything ‘under wraps’ for long. Yes, the staff does a great job of being discreet and do their best to guard your dignity and privacy but after a while you just don’t care anymore. All you need to have is a uniform of sorts and an I.D. badge…. so even a custodian could be asked to help sew up that rear observation area!

                                    I started writing this two days before my release as I had Paula bring my laptop down to me. I set up my table and chair in front of my window, it looked like an ‘office’ of sorts, and I had many a comment on it. I was hoping to be sprung from the joint on Wednesday as I got the ‘thumbs-up’ from OT, PT, my local Floor Staff, the Cafeteria, and the Janitor. All I needed was the Spleen Squad to punch my ticket to freedom, but nooooo, they wanted another day just to be sure. By now I figured that I was fully healed (in relative terms) and wanted OUT! ASAP. That wasn’t happening until Thursday, so I sat down and started writing. I was gradually feeling better as I could get up now without setting off NATO alerts. It was still quite painful to move….. I can’t believe how much being slammed around inside a jammerized vehicle can hurt, even with seat belts and air bags keeping you relatively in one place! What did we do before these inventions were being utilized!!!???

                                    All in all, I can’t say enough about the care that I received in Morristown. Most of you know that I was in the Service Industry and my valuation and evaluation of personal service comes from many angles. The Staff at Morristown was so good that in that weird sort of way, makes one want to go back there just to experience their genuine care about your well-being.

                                    My Parole Board hearing went well on Thursday, the Warden did not even show up to escort me to the gate, all we needed to do was walk out the door. Yup! no embarrassing wheelchair needed, although it took an extraordinary amount of time for me to walk, but I need to do this as it was another step in my recovery. I fell asleep on the way home and no; I was not driving this time. In fact, my driving privileges have been revoked by the Board of Family and Friends until I get my sleep disorder under control.

                                    I can assure you that as much as I try and make light of this situation, I am fully aware of how fortunate that I am to have kept this a One-Person Incident and the thought of this happening on just a regular road with oncoming traffic is quite sobering. I still can’t believe that with all of the spinning and crossing of multiple lanes on Route 24 that this still remained a single car MVA.

                                    I am home in the motorhome behind Yetter’s Diner as I write this, feeling about 90% better than I did upon my release! But still CTQ, (Confined To Quarters) so if you’re stopping by the Diner for a bite, walk around back and see if I’m home, we can have a chat!

                                    Oh, and I can report that my Crash Diet was a huge failure as it appears that I actually gained a few pounds during my incarceration! Who knew that Clear Liquids for a few days (followed by real food) (minus no Exercise) could be so fattening!

Yes, I know that this is really late but between leaving for the airport at 3:30 AM, connections to Munich, and the arrival in Newark, then the sun was in my eyes, and I stepped on a rock, and then the dog ate the first draft, then we needed to pick up the Motorhome who received some pampering while we were away, then getting settled (groceries, etc.) and having a mild case of Jetious Lagium …… well, here it is anyway 😊

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Our last full day in Helsinki was spent roaming the countryside in a really cool Mercedes “Party Bus”! The seating was sectional, groups facing each other and in the rear the seats lined the perimeter, all facing inwards with tables in front of everyone. Our journey for the day was divided between two places, the little town of Porvoo and visiting with the Count of Malmgard…… Count Erik Cruetz. Yes, he’s a real Count, this particular Manor House goes back 14 generations and portions of the original land holdings still endure, albeit a tad smaller than it was a few centuries ago.

                        Let’s start where we did, in Porvoo. It was a gray, misty, Sunday morning when we arrived. The ‘Old Town” is obviously cute and has mostly wooden structures. This area used a lot of wood as the forests are thick and the masons are not, so the carpenters won out.

                        We arrived a bit early for a Sunday morning, which means that we had the town all to ourselves for a while. Luckily the bakeries and cafes were open as a cup of cappuccino seemed to be on everyone’s mind. Some of the other shops opened soon after we arrived and we were only scheduled for about two hours there as we had an appointment with the Count, and we did not want to keep him waiting! (because he had lots of things to …..count!  Sorry, couldn’t resist!)

                        The Count met us at the front door of the Manor House, which was constructed during the late 1800’s because the family wanted a more ‘modern’ home than was presently there. He was quick to explain that the family did not want the Manor to be museum, that each generation was free to add what they thought would be appropriate for future generations to see and enjoy. Having stated that, he assured us that wanton disregard for the past was not an agenda item either!

                        In today’s society, with its blurring of aristocratic levels and division’s, having a title such as a Count or Baron, Earl or Duke, may seem too be a bit archaic, but the titles do still exist and as long as the holders of these titles are nice, decent people who don’t flaunt their ‘status’ immaturely….. then why not have some fun? There’s a story that comes out of Tallinn. Tallinn with those teeny-tiny lanes and alleys….and the dress of the day included very wide, almost hooped skirts. And really only one of those outfits could be in these narrow lanes at a time. it seems that the courtesy in that day extended to another lady walking head on was to let the lady with the higher title proceed first. I’m sure that you can see where this one is going….. anyway, two ladies meet…. either of the same title or some other de facto issue that caused them to argue over who should give way to who. It gets messy when the escorts of these ladies (who just want to go home and have an ale) have to defend the honor of their lady…..like throwing their coats down over mud puddles and similar chivalrous actions. Arguments ensued, guys got impatient, and finally one of them said, “Since you both seem to be of equal title, why not let the older of you proceed first in recognition of your vast experience.”

                                    To my knowledge they may still be there because it would be a cold day in Tallinn before any Lady would admit that she was older than the other!

                        I’m sure that most of you are familiar with Downton Abbey (and if you are not, please run, sprint, or gallop to your TV’s, find Downton Abbey and sit and watch all six seasons plus the three ‘continuing’ movies, and do not get up until you are finished!) so the bantering about of these titles from that era will be familiar, but still confusing. Who is the Top Dog? And who is last among definite non-equals? (I’ve assembled a list at the end of this Post with the correct ranking of these Titles, just in case you bump into some of your local hob-knobbers and want to make sure that you curtsy in the correct order!)

            You will find that most of today’s ‘Families of Peerage’ need to have other sources of income other than just ‘being’ their titles. In other words, they’ve run their family’s ancient money wells dry and need even more income in order to keep their Manor Houses maintained. Have you ever tried to renovate an existing hundreds of years old home? Just stabilizing them to halt any further deterioration is expensive, never mind improving and bring it up to present-day standards. The Counts present day industries have been alluded to and will be further explained in a few paragraphs from now.

                        First we need to explain the why’s and wherefores’ of the Counts claim to fame (past) so we need to (very) briefly re-visit that Imperial Russian era because that’s when Finland was part of Russia, as an independent Grand Duchy (which means that good ol’ Czar Whoever-Was-In-Power-At-The-Time was  the actual head of state there.) This lasted until that fateful day in 1917 when, courtesy of Lenin and his cronies, there was no more Czar and Finland quickly took this opportunity to vamoose itself from the Russian Empire.

But before its brief inclusion in the Rusky Regime, Finland was part of Sweden for almost 700 years! That probably explains why in Finland signs are often in both languages!

            So, we find ourselves in front of the King Charles IX of Sweden, the year is 1606 and he is listening to the complaining Catherina Hess, a war widow who in a few years will marry Ernest Cruetz…..(there’s our connection to present day, same last name of the Count introduced to you earlier) So the King gives her a big slab of land, and a title that goes along with it, first an untitled ‘rank’, then as a baronial estate, and finally, Ta-Dah! as a  tippy-top Count-level part of Swedish nobility which survives the next 500-plus years and we find it today reinventing itself in more modern times as there are no more serfs, ladies-in-waiting, or footmen to do their bidding!

                        And….. we get to visit his home, take a tour of the old place (which needs a ton of work) (which costs a ton of money) and take a look at what the Count and his estate are presently involved in and very proud of! They are continuing in two veins, one of organic farming, the other in making traditional ales. So far, so good. They have a good reputation for both, we sampled the ales when we were served lunch there and together with some other surrounding organic farms, this region is making headway into that ever-growing market.  

            Apparently, it is far easier to have an organic farm and use those techniques when your neighbor does. The Count informed us that he and the surrounding farms are all have the highest organic certification that can be had and they all cooperate with each other and since they all “do” organics, they can freely borrow each other’s equipment because it hasn’t been tainted with the nasties. Also, because their lands are contiguous to each other, they don’t need to fret about any over-blow from each other of non-organic pesticides, etc. And talk about ‘sustainable’ practices, they even have a historic hydro-electric plant that supplies their electricity!

            All of these efforts show up in the quality of their produce and of course, their brewery products. I don’t like beer, so I don’t drink it. This makes me the wrong person to write about the flavorful aspects of this ancient beverage. I can however relate the fact that they use some ancient grains like ‘emmer’ from which they derive their Emmer IPA, one of the fav’s.

            It was nice to meet an actual person of peerage that laughed with us, spoke about the realities of today’s world, and still needed to be practical when it came to the “Royal Treasury” as it is not as bottomless as it once was. He spoke about having to upgrade the heating system for the Manor House, they’ve decided on Geo-Thermal and also the fact that all of the windows need to be replaced, most of which are well over a hundred years old. And there are over a hundred and fifty of these historical components to be worked on! (And I don’t think that they just call up the local Anderson Replacement Window guy for an estimate!)

            And now, the real reason that you’ve gotten this far… the verily promised list that explains the different ranks in a peerage system! For your perusal and enjoyment…….

Ranks of Peerage

(Most “Royal’ type nations, some countries vary a little bit!)

King/Queen….. unless the Queen gets her title through marriage, in which case she is the King’s Queen, but not a Sovereign. In this case then first born will inherit the Crown.

(King Charles/Queen Camilla)

Queen/Prince Consort…. in this case we have a man married to a Sovereign Queen, he can never be King and is never granted that title.

(Queen Elizabeth/ Prince Philip or Queen Victoria/Prince Albert)

Duke/Royal Duke…. This title always is directly below that of the Monarch. In fact, a Duke/Dutchess may rule a specific area, usually a section of a country. In today’s terms there are not many of these left. There are two duchies in Great Britain, that of Cornwall and Lancaster. Presently the Duke of Cornwall is Prince William, his father King Charles was the previous Duke of Cornwall. This dukedom generates millions of pounds (dollars) per year in income for the Duke. This helps run their estates and provides a source for their philanthropic endeavors. If you are so inclined, there is an article from the April 2012 National Geographic that highlights parts of the Dutchy of Cornwall (particularly the Isles of Scilly) and the then Prince Charles. I remember thinking that he was a pretty good guy after reading about his involvement with the people of the dutchy. (You can just google that article, and Nat Geo should forward it to you)

Marquess…. We don’t hear this one too much, maybe because no one knows how to pronounce it! The holder of this title originally was a large landowner that had the responsibility of guarding the borders of a realm, nowadays it is mostly an honorary (but real) title. And by the way, it is pronounced mark-kwass

Earl/Count…. Used interchangeably by us, varies otherwise by country (Earl in the UK and Count in Sweden) Ok, if you do happen to be a fan of Downton Abbey, this is the title that Robert holds.  Traditionally these guys were larger land holders and as such, they managed the tenant farmers and the like, as well as commanding troops for the Crown. Like most of the others, today it is largely a ceremonial title, but again, a real one. It can be awarded but most of the time it is hereditary.

Viscount…. Here’s another tricky pronunciation for you, it is vai-kount, the ‘s’ is silent. These are quite often members of the House of Lords.

Baron….. the lowest, but still higher than you or me! These faithful servants of the Crown are very similar in scope to their members to the north on this list, the Viscounts.

So, there you have it…. Everything You Ever Wanted(?) to Know about The Peerage System But Were Afraid To Ask! This is the fun stuff, the stuff that you never know may someday appear on Jeopardy!…. now, aren’t you glad you paid attention!

Yesterday we left Tallinn on a ferry that crossed an arm of the Baltic Sea, the Gulf of Finland. It’s about 50 miles across and it takes about two hours or so to cross it. The ferry is BIG, not unlike a small cruise ship. It was quite comfortable being on it, restaurants, slot machines, video games, Sports Bars, Gift Shops, and Duty-Free stuff!

We entered Helsinki, our bus rolled out of the Ferry, and we boarded it for a ride to our hotel. This hotel used to be a prison. Complete with all of those prison-like amenities that one would expect…… solitary confinement, big, tall, long ‘cell blocks’, etc. An enterprising entrepreneur saw something in this and after some extensive renovation opened up as this hotel. Since it is Prison, I decided that a Black and White collection of photos would be approporiate!

An assortment of Prison Photos

Bread and water were served for dinner…… at least it was rye!