Cruisin' 2019: Day 0 - Unfamiliar Territory

A little over a year ago, my father and stepmother offered everyone in the family an incredible opportunity. After a recent and successful Alaskan cruise, they wanted to do a "New England Fall Colors" cruise down the east coast of North America. Incredibly, they were willing to pay the cruise fare of anyone who could get themselves to port. The only catch was that they were going when it suited them best –anyone who couldn’t make the dates being offered would just have to miss out. Fair enough – when you’re paying over £1000 per room and offering to pay for enough rooms for 14 people, you get to make that call. When the dates were announced, it turned out that my wife (who’s a teacher) and kids couldn’t go. Well, to be brutally honest, it was only my wife that COULD NOT go. But the thought of being a single parent on an 11-day cruise with eight ports (including New York) and three young kids was not very appealing to me, in the most hideously selfish way imaginable. I could make the argument that as the Chair of Governors for a small rural school, taking 3 kids from 30 away for over 2 weeks was an unacceptable precedent to set – and that IS true. But that was the second thing that came to mind when we realised that my wife couldn’t go, and that taking the kids would mean me taking the kids on my own. The first thing to come to mind was, ‘Oh, Hell no.’

My kids are great, but it’s a lot of work just getting them around Aber – I can’t imagine being able to drag them through Hell’s Kitchen on Day 8 after being stuck on a boat for a week. That’s on me, I get that. And I have lots of guilt about it. As the departure date got closer, I felt increasingly terrible about denying my kids this trip, especially when my nephew (who is the same age as my eldest) is going. But he is one kid. And, despite my eldest’s suggestion that I could just take her (nice try), I know that it was everyone or no one, and that I’m nowhere near skilled or patient enough to attempt taking all three kids on my own. So they’re staying home. To be fair, there hasn’t been much complaining about it. I think they kind of get it, even though they’re clearly disappointed not to be going. I’ve pacified them by promising to take them on other adventures soon. The more immediate plan is to come back with a shit-ton of souvenirs so that they forgive me. Early indications are not looking promising, but I’ve been given a list of items that will help secure their favour.

So I have a lot of mixed emotions about this trip. Of course, I’m excited and grateful that I get to go. I realise that not everyone gets this opportunity. And, in general, I love travelling. I love the planning, the packing, the driving to the airport, the sitting in the airport, the recycled airplane air, the airline food... all of it. And I love exploring new places. I’m the kind of person who doesn’t mind being reasonably lost in a new city, as long as I feel safe. So all of these things are great, and I’m thankful that I’ve been given an opportunity to experience them again.

The mixed bit comes as, for the first time in a very long time, I’m taking a good chunk of time away from home without my family. Yes, of course, my wife and I have each taken short breaks with friends over the past 10 years or so without each other or the kids – but this is 2 weeks, on my own. No kids, no wife. And it’s had some unexpected consequences.

For starters, this by far the most unprepared I’ve been for a trip in forever. Yes, I booked the flights and hotel, and first night in an AirBnB in Quebec City months ago... but that’s about it. I checked train prices from Montreal to QC six months ago, but never booked. That was a mistake. Train ticket six months ago: $36. Same train ticket as you’re landing in Montreal: $110. Well, of course it is. We do that in the UK. Why on earth I didn’t realise that is beyond me. Luckily, the bus was cheaper and faster, and there’s no discount for advance booking. Yes, I checked –  I need to know just how much of an idiot I’m being at any given time (spoiler alert: it’s usually A LOT).

But it wasn’t just the transfers. I didn’t pack until the afternoon that I leaving. That’s crazy. I forgot stuff, and had to nip home on my way to the airport to get it. That never happens. I’m always the one in charge of packing – and in charge of incredulously saying ‘HOW MUCH!?’ every time I see what Carol has laid out on the bed for me to pack for her and the kids. But it’s always done at least a night in advance, and to a checklist. Not this time. I left it late. I made no lists. This was the wild west of packing. No rules! I still rolled my clothes of course. I mean, I’m not a sociopath. The plus was, of course, that my entire 2 weeks of travelling needs fit into one carry-on bag. Maybe the reason I kept thinking that I was forgetting something was that I was carrying about 30 fewer bags. And I was actually forgetting things. Either way, it felt weird and liberating and deeply unsettling.

Our usual weekend packing

And it’s not just packing. As I was looking into things to do in each port city, I found myself automatically thinking about things for families. Whale watching, kids museums, playgrounds, restaurants that serve chicken nuggets... anyone who’s traveled with smaller kids knows the drill. You plan for the lowest common denominator, and everyone else sucks it up. It was only after a few minutes of scrolling that it hit me that I wasn’t obliged to do any of those things. Escargot in Quebec? I’ll give it a go. Museum of alpaca knitting in Nova Scotia? Sounds cozy. Pub crawl at 11am in Boston? Why not? I could do any of these and there would be no one to say no. The world was my lobster roll. Will I actually do any of these things? Probably not. I’ve had escargot – they are gross. I’m not a huge drinker and genuinely fear that I would forget to get back on the boat. And I made up the knitting museum. If I’m honest, I’m at a bit of a loss without the kids to guide my planning. Imagine Mel Gibson’s character in Braveheart yelling ‘Freeeeedom!’  Now imagine that same exclamation with a question mark at the end. I’m excited... but I have no clue what to do.

Legitimately, the only things I’ve planned are the places or things I want to eat (other than Taco Bell). That’s it.

Now what?

So we’ll see. I’ve just spent the night in a cozy one-bedroom flat in Quebec City. It’s 0800 locally, so I imagine that all the fresh bread is stale by now, so we’ll need to get up and get some breakfast somewhere at some point.  My brother and his son are snoring at an ungodly volume in the living room (it really IS hereditary). Between now and noon – when I’ve booked us in for Poutine – I honestly have no idea what I’ll be doing. Yeah, it’s exciting – but I’m not sure yet whether I like it.