I grabbed the apple as we ran out the door for the airport. Sustenance if we got stuck in traffic. The next time I thought of it, we were unpacking in Amsterdam and there it was at the bottom of the carry-on bag. Unpacked, it found a new home on the apartment's kitchen table. Days of sight-seeing flew by; we gathered our stuff for the Norway cruise. Apple (it now had a name) was swooped up with everything else. Unpacked again on board, it sat in our cabin as we sailed north to Norcap, the northernmost town on the planet and while we cruised back south again stopping at port after port, finally arriving back in Amsterdam.
"Apple" experienced the midnight sun which turned out to be eerieer in the flesh than we expected. At 1 a.m. we were still puttering around in the cabin, thin sunlight glinting off the surface of the sea. Although we slept sufficient hours we felt exhausted and drained, our diurnal rhythms shot to hell. There was to be a burial at sea for Apple, but there wasn't sufficient darkness for cover. Throwing anything off the boat is verboten. Much as I'd like to ignore the rules, and to the great frustration of my husband, I can't help toeing the line - it's a Canuck thing.
A ding-batty, new agey Belgian woman we talked with at 1 or 2 a.m. told us in her limited English that the sea and the midnight light were exerting a strange power over us. I usually dismiss this kind of thinking faster than you can say Weirdo, but I had to agree there was something inexplicable about the feeling.
Back in the real world Apple spent another couple of happy days resting in our hotel near Schiphol Airport watching us train off to Haarlem one day and Der Haag the next. Could we toss it in the trash at the Airport Holiday Inn after all we'd been through together? No. Packed up again, Apple made the long ride home and has been resting on the kitchen counter now for months, slowly mummifying in an honorary spot alongside our De Kuypers souvenirs from KLM.
Will Apple hang in long enough to stow away to South India?
"Apple" experienced the midnight sun which turned out to be eerieer in the flesh than we expected. At 1 a.m. we were still puttering around in the cabin, thin sunlight glinting off the surface of the sea. Although we slept sufficient hours we felt exhausted and drained, our diurnal rhythms shot to hell. There was to be a burial at sea for Apple, but there wasn't sufficient darkness for cover. Throwing anything off the boat is verboten. Much as I'd like to ignore the rules, and to the great frustration of my husband, I can't help toeing the line - it's a Canuck thing.
A ding-batty, new agey Belgian woman we talked with at 1 or 2 a.m. told us in her limited English that the sea and the midnight light were exerting a strange power over us. I usually dismiss this kind of thinking faster than you can say Weirdo, but I had to agree there was something inexplicable about the feeling.
Back in the real world Apple spent another couple of happy days resting in our hotel near Schiphol Airport watching us train off to Haarlem one day and Der Haag the next. Could we toss it in the trash at the Airport Holiday Inn after all we'd been through together? No. Packed up again, Apple made the long ride home and has been resting on the kitchen counter now for months, slowly mummifying in an honorary spot alongside our De Kuypers souvenirs from KLM.
Will Apple hang in long enough to stow away to South India?
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