What goes around...comes around

The end of the Odyssey:

by Aditha Dissanayake

An advertisement for an airline I saw in a newspaper found in the subway at Forest Hills, Queens, New York, sums up everything I have seen in the USA for me. "If you don't like the weather today you have 120 ways to change it." Said the slogan sprawled on one whole page. To me, this is America. At home, if you don't like the weather all you can do is grumble about it.

From the moment I landed at JFK thirty-nine days ago with Nishantha, I was eager to pursue the assignment my Editor had given me before I left...to discover America and write about it for the Travel pages of the Sunday Observer. How I did it was entirely up to me. Thus began our Odyssey.

Experiencing the charms and perils of free choice, for the first time in our lives, without plans, research and advice we flew, we sailed, we sat on buses and trains for hours on end, and above all walked till we got blisters on our feet exploring every nook and cranny we came across, in this land of our favourite movies, books and songs. Here is the last of the series of articles you have been reading since we embarked on this voyage of discovering America.

The End? Well... yes... almost. By the time you are reading this I'll be back at home, in Colombo amidst the dust, the heat, the mosquitoes, enjoying every moment of it, as if I am in heaven. Distance sure makes the heart grow fonder.

Right now though, I am seated in cabin 1274 of the Carnival Victory, writing my last article home from the middle of the Atlantic ocean. OOPS. Hold on.

All my pens and pencils went crashing to the floor a second ago...let me retrieve them...O,K where were we?. OOPS. There go the pencils again.

The waves must really be rough for the ship to sway like this...Did you hear that sound? The sound of a sick crow calling his mate? Could that be me being seasick? No.

This is my fourth day at sea and never once have I felt queasy. Though walking in a straight line is difficult and occasionally things topple to the ground according to the assurance given in the welcome aboard guide book the ship has stabilisers that ensure smooth sailing however rough the weather might be.

Rough it has been on the first and the second day of the cruise as we sailed to our port of call, St. John, Brunswick, Canada. Yet, with almost all our fears of meeting a Titanic-like tragedy at sea dispelled by the life boat drill given before the ship left the shores of New York, the weather was no cause for worry, nor did it dampen the fun on board, for Malcolm Burn, the Cruise Director and his staff made sure everyone was laughing and shouting YOO-HOO, every minute of the day and well on to the night as well.

From the Welcome Aboard Show given by Malcolm on the first day to the last show on the night before we sailed back into New York, every event proved to be worth seeing even though this meant cutting down on sleep.

We would often stumble to our cabin at around two in the morning after sitting through a spectacular Las Vegas style show with acrobatics, dancing and pyrotechnics, followed by the antics of stand-up comedians, wondering what animal might be on our bed tonight.

An elephant? A kangaroo?Made with towels, the animals were a part of the excellent stateroom service provided by cabin stewards who kept tidying our cabin and making our bed almost every half hour on the hour.

Every morning Carnival Capers, the newsletter slipped under our door would inform us of the events scheduled for the next day and rarely did a day pass with us sitting on the topmost deck counting the waves (though this would have been a fun thing to do) yearning for home and the feel of solid ground under our feet.

After seeing the Newly Weds Show in which three couples were asked among other things what the atmosphere in their cabin was like, the previous night A) was it like fourth of July meaning fireworks B) Halloween (scary), C)Thanksgiving (sleeping next to a turkey) or D) Memorial Day (sleeping next to the dead) the teasing among us intensified with everyone wondering what the other's answer might be.

It was good to speak in Sinhala, for like Chaucer's trip to Canterbury, we were part of a group of Sri Lankans, led by Wimal, our cruise coordinator, who took over the entertaining whenever Malcolm flagged.

Having read up to this point about the perfections aboard the cruise, if you feel nausea you should better stop now. It gets worse. Especially when it comes to the food. Imagine having salads, fruits, breads, hot entres, pizzas, tea, coffee, juices, and ice cream anytime you want them regardless of whether it's two in the morning or two in the afternoon.

Each night at the Atlantic Restaurant we got a new menu - starter salad, snails fried in butter, main course, which included lobster, desert, the melting ice cream should not be missed and coffee, served by Pittu our waiter and Srima (his assistant).

Meanwhile the Lido deck on the ninth floor provided twenty-four hours of food from full-fattening delights to sensible dishes to low-fat and vegetarian fare. No wonder the Cruise Director teased the passengers saying 'even by the third day, you people still can't find your cabins, but you sure know how to make your way to the food.'

Could this be due to some strange power the waves instill in you? Anthony Acosta, one of the comedians had a better explanation. He seems to think the passengers had left their brains on land when they started the cruise. Why else will they wait twenty minutes for the elevator to take them to the next floor?

There it is...an announcement from Malcolm asking us to come to the disembarkation seminar. Better go 'cos this guy knows how to make even the most boring formalities look like the most fun thing to do.

Will stop writing now and catch you later...YOO-HOOO! There goes Malcolm's tribal call. How I envy him, and all the staff on this ship. If I get fired from the Sunday Observer, this is where I'd like to find my next job - as a staff member of the Carnival Victory and hopefully with Malcolm as the Cruise Director...

Taking on from where I left off, to talk about the day we spent on land before sailing back to New York...well...the weather proved to be sunny and bright when we sailed into St. John, the largest seaport in the Province of New Brunswick,Canada. 'I arranged it with God to make it sunny for you' said our taxi driver, Max, as he drove us to a park twenty minutes away from the town.

Which park? Where? The details are in my diary, which was in the bag we lost upon our arrival at the Katunayake airport.

May SriLankan be able to trace it, for, no amount of money can replace the value of my faithful old diary, which I hope is not lying in a gutter in an airport in Timbuktu by now) But I do remember the road on which we found the Old City Market, which proved to be not so old, when compared to the ruins we are familiar with, in cities like Anuradhapura.

The market running downhill from Charlotte street to Germain street is said to have withstood the test of time - from The Great Fire of 1877 which devoured the city around it only a year after it opened, to the twentieth-century urban renewal that built a brand new city right outside the heavy wrought-iron gates.

This was about all we had time for in Canada and we were glad we skipped a visit to the Reversing Falls, the major tourist attraction in St. John because it appeared the low tide and the high tide had refused to coordinate on this day to make the water reverse.

We sailed back into New York, catching a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty against the rising sun, on Monday morning. This was our last expedition in America.

When does a journey end? When you pack your bags and bid farewell to the wonderful people who had looked after you with tears of gratitude glistening in your eyes? When, having arrived at the Katunayake airport, staring at the luggage belt you realize you have lost your bag? Or does it end after four days of waiting in anticipation when you realize the lady in the red sari at the Lost Baggage Service counter at the airport had been bluffing when she assured you your bag is in London and will be delivered to your doorstep the next day? I hope you would never have to say yes to the last two questions.

As for me, even though I still languish over my diary and my lost bag, I prefer to think our journey came to an end as we checked in to the British Airways flight bound for London at JFK on Wednesday. The lady who gave us our boarding passes asked us about our stay in New York and when we said we loved it smiled saying "Come back".

Nishantha and I promised ourselves that we would.

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