Here’s the Story – Part 2

Back in February 2020, right before the world got super duper weird, Rob gave me one of the best gifts EVER. He drove me to North Hollywood to see the Brady Bunch house.

I won’t go into detail – my February 6, 2020 blog about that visit can fill you in. Suffice it to say, I am a HUGE Brady Bunch fan. HUGE. Enormous. Big Time Brady Fan Girl right here.

Back in 2020, the best a superfan could do was drive up to the house and gaze at it from across the street. There was a security guard positioned in the driveway preventing any lingering, and absolutely no approaching the front door. But that was good enough, since visiting the interior was completely incomprehensible.  

Fast-forward to September 2023. HGTV decided it had gotten all the ratings it could from totally renovating the house’s interior to match the studio sets the series had been filmed on. The network put the iconic house on the market and a fellow Brady Bunch Superfan named Tina snatched it up for a groovy $3.2 million. Reportedly Tina’s husband, the former CEO of HBO, had only one question for her: “Have you lost your mind?” Apparently he thought his Gen X wife wanted to live in the house.

Oh, to be so lucky!

So what did Tina actually want to do with the house? Well, first she got it designated as a Historical-Cultural Monument by the City of Los Angeles. Then she decided to share it with fellow Brady Superfans.

The Bradys' house is the first property in
Los Angeles to get this protection
as a filming location outside of a studio lot.
The designation protects the outside AND
the inside. How groovy is that?!

WHAT?!?

Yes, you can buy tickets – with proceeds going to Tina’s favorite animal shelter – for a one-hour visit inside the totally furnished Brady Bunch house!! Truly! Yes, I pretty much bounced off the couch chanting, "Take my money!" when I learned this.

When I first read about this opportunity, I thought for sure it was only for fancy people. Connected people. Industry people. Not for a 58-year-old woman whose only Hollywood connection is once posing for a photo with Ted Danson and an alpaca.

Back in 2011 when we were all
much younger.

Because I have the most amazing and supportive husband EVER, today I was a passenger princess as Rob drove across the trafficky Los Angeles metro to make my dreams come true.

Yes, we spent an hour INSIDE the Brady Bunch House today! IT WAS INCREDIBLE!!

I was just a few yards ahead of Rob out of 
unbridled excitement to GET INSIDE!!

When I knocked on the front door as instructed, it slowly opened to reveal a friendly woman in a blue maid’s dress welcoming us inside. We were asked to take off our shoes, wear provided socks and booties, and not touch anything or sit on the furniture. “Treat it as a museum.” We could, however, take photos with abandon and wander on our own.

The door knobs are PERFECT!
It felt surreal just standing there.

Fortunately, all of this information had been provided ahead of time via email. Because once I was inside The Bradys’ house, my listening ears turned off. Instead, I heard the voices of my adopted TV family speaking a mishmash of dialogue from 117 memorized episodes. I spent the next hour walking around with an enormous smile, wide eyes, and a couple of times, tears.

OH. MY. GOSH!!!!!!!!!

I was not expecting to feel so emotional in The Bradys’ house.

I gasped at the sight of The Staircase. I smiled at the couch in Mike’s den where Jan sat and lamented, “Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!” I stared at the groovy 1960s rectangular art at the foot of the staircase, realizing how it is instantly identifiable by any fan. It was all absolutely perfect.

I wanted to touch EVERYTHING!

There it is!! Every Brady fan knows
that paneling!

The tears came when I entered the Brady girls’ bedroom upstairs. I stood in the middle of the room, taking in the three pink bedspreads, the giraffe stuffed animal in the corner, Kitty Karry-All on Cindy’s bed. It was so familiar, so comfortable, so nostalgic. Suddenly, it struck me.

“Oh my gosh. I grew up in this bedroom.”

This was after the tears. And please ignore
the fashion booties.

And that was it. That was the emotion. The Brady House was home. My home. I grew up there. I watched multiple episodes every day after school for years. When I told my mother-in-law a few days ago that we were going to see the inside of the Brady Bunch house, she asked if there would be a tour guide. My reply? “I don’t need one!”

It was fascinating to me which rooms I felt the most drawn to. The girls’ bedroom was the strongest. The kitchen, too. And Mike and Carol’s bedroom. And the dining room table. And the couch in the living room.

I hate to cook and yet, I totally
wanted to hang out in this kitchen.

The screen behind us really got me. I have
no idea why. But wow, it was important
to me to see it.

Sadly, the best photo I have of the
dining room table. It was hard to balance
being present, being in awe, and being 
a photographer.

I wasn’t as emotionally drawn to Greg’s attic bedroom or the family room or the boys’ bedroom or the backyard. I have no idea why.

It took me about 30 minutes to take my first lap. I then sat on a step in the entryway and tried to be fully present in one of the most surreal moments of my life. It sort of worked.

I still can't believe I was there.

On my second lap, I tried to notice all the little Easter Eggs that were scattered around the house, each a reference to a well-known storyline.

The architectural drawings of Beebe Gallini’s powder puff-shaped factory. Marcia’s drawing of George Washington that was mistaken for Mrs. Denton. The box of Safe Detergent in the laundry room. The egg on the pylon at the front of Mike’s convertible. The stack of letters to “Dear Libby.” The book about Jesse James that got Bobby in trouble. The typewritten gossip column written by Peter. The silver anniversary platter. Alice’s white sneakers. Jan’s wig.

Mike's drafting table in his den!
The powder puff is on the left, the
plans on the right are HGTV's plans
for renovating the original structure.

Marcia drew George Washington.
Then Paula found it and added the unflattering
note about Mrs. Denton. Marcia was in 
BIG trouble when the teacher found it.
Luckily, Paula fessed up and all was well
within 24 minutes.

The letters each of the kids and Alice
wrote to an advice columnist.

Alice's Keds!

The recreation of the Bradys’ house was astounding. The attention to detail was incredible. I kept forgetting the series was not actually filmed in the house. It was so real, so perfect, so complete. I was even more incredulous when I was told that there was only one original item in the entire house; everything else had been tracked down through antique stores and online searches to replicate what had appeared on the show. The Love of Brady runs deep.

The red sleeping bag is the only 
original item. It was in the episode
where Marcia has a slumber party.

Rob and I were the last to leave. We found out that Tina allows a maximum of 8 people to come inside the house each day from 12:30-1:30pm. There were just two other couples walking around with us, equally mesmerized and lost in memories. We all looked about the same age, all giddy and appreciative. We were mostly quiet, with whispered, “OH, WOW!” and “Come look at this!” One woman softly laughed and asked, “Why are we so quiet?”

I smiled at her and answered, “Reverence.”

My 8-year-old and my 58-year-old
brains are both utterly flabbergasted
by this photo!!!

Birdless in the Canary Islands

Today’s port stop was the town of Las Palmas on the island of Gran Canaria. Gran Canaria is part of the Spanish island cluster called the Canary Islands. Las Palmas is the islands’ largest city and is co-capital with another town on a different island (Santa Cruz on Tenerife).

Yeah, I didn’t know that level of detail either until about 24 hours ago.

The Canary Islands are just off the northwestern tip of Africa. It is a collection of 8 main islands. We only saw Gran Canaria, which is a rather round island that would take about 8 hours to drive completely around. It has a busy port on the top right (northeast). The tourists – we were told they are mostly white and predominantly British – hang out on the southern and western parts. The tourist spots are apparently very resorty and expensive and not terribly representative of Real Life. And hardly any locals live there.

A local beach in Agaete, not touristy at all.
Also, observation suggests bikini tops are optional.

Las Palmas was very cloudy and reportedly stays
that way most days. The south and west part of
Gran Canaria get the sun. And therefore the tourists.

Today we took a tour to the top left (northwestern) part of Gran Canaria. We never did get to see the Fancypants parts of the island. Nor did we see any canaries. Nope, no adorable little yellow birds anywhere to be found.

Some of the mountains reminded me
of Kauai, but MUCH drier and browner.

Turns out the Canary Islands are NOT named for the bird. The bird is actually named for the islands, despite being conspicuously absent today. The name “canary” supposedly comes from the closest approximation for the Latin word for “dog” – especially the loud, barking variety. 

What?  

Yep. Local lore says that early Roman explorers (the Latin speakers) noted a preponderance of loud, barking dogs on the islands, and they named their conquest accordingly. Except that there isn’t a history of dogs being on the islands back then. But…they did have lots of monk seals. And seals make a lot of noise, sort of like dogs barking. So, it is widely thought that the Canary Islands were named after noisy seals.

Isn’t travel fun?!?

Our tour today was a 45-minute drive around the northern part of the island to a winery. Yep, news to me, too – I had no idea wine is made on the Canary Islands.

Along the way we got to see lots of banana farms, and we learned how none of the locals can afford to buy Canary Island bananas. We also learned that although the Canary Islands are part of Spain, the Canarians only embrace their Spanish-hood when Spain is playing in the World Cup (like, right now). Otherwise, with a long history of various nations assuming ownership, the folks in the Canary Islands are fiercely proud of their island heritage and residency and concede to their Spanish roots only when necessary.

This is a banana field!
I desperately wanted to try a Canary Island banana.
However, our guide told us that almost all of them 
are exported. The local bananas are so expensive, 
the ones in the grocery stores are mostly from 
South America. Bummer!

The winery tour portion of our day was amusingly bizarre.

Offered by a family who seemed pretty new to the tour game, we received very little information about the wine, the family, winemaking, what grapes grow on the islands, anything winey, really. They didn’t even tell us how much a bottle of their wine costs (20 Euros – we had to ask in the gift shop. Spoiler alert: we didn't buy any). Like I said, tour novices by all appearances.

Instead, we sampled some particularly sweet wines after we learned how coffee is made. As you do.

This is the winery's only coffee roaster.
To be fair, the lightly roasted Arabica
coffee was some of the best I've ever
had, but I didn't trust her promise that
the caffeine was mild and wouldn't
keep me awake. $ure thing.

We sat at tables of six cruisers with a variety of snacks to share. We assumed they were for pairing with our wines but no instructions were ever provided. There was a glass full of forks but plates were never offered. We improvised with napkins and serving platters.

Photo taken while awaiting directions.
Still waiting...

As wine made from grapes we had never heard of was being poured, we were – naturally – told what to mix in a bowl to make a condiment of some sort (our tour description suggested it was a mojo – our “tour guide” never said). Cumin, paprika, oil, and “the sour one” (vinegar) were involved. Why were we doing this? We have no idea.

Rob smashed up a fantastic mojo!
I ate most of it, surprising nobody.

We were then given a plate of hot, egg-sized, boiled potatoes. Of course! Our table decided the potatoes were for the paprika sauce. We actually have no idea.  

My one souvenir from the Canary Islands.
The recipes look simple enough – except
for instructions like "1 nyora pepper to thicken"
and "1 coffee cup of olive oil." I'm pretty
sure they don't mean American coffee cups...

Our Funhouse Maze of a tour was – so predictably – capped off with some hand lotion dolloped on willing hands. We were assured it could be purchased in the nearby gift shop, for reasons that remain unknown.

Little of our visit to Finca La Laja & Bodega Los Berrazales made sense. And while I learned more about Canary Island wines from Google and by staring at a wine shelf in a portside grocery store, I absolutely got my excursion money’s worth in head-scratching entertainment!

The Basics of Canary Islands Wine:
Both reds and whites are made, there
are only a few producers, and they are
apparently known for reflecting the
minerals of the volcanic soil that
comprises the islands.

Rob and I agreed that despite the Spanish stew of a tour we found ourselves on, we enjoyed the Canary Islands more than Cape Verde. The mountains were beautiful, and I loved seeing all the banana plants. The locals seemed pretty chill, too. We agreed that while we won’t make any special efforts to return to the Canary Islands (Hawaii is MUCH closer), we wouldn’t be sad if a future cruise included a stop. We just might choose a more…conventional…tour. Or not!

Next stop: Casablanca/Marrakesh, Morocco!

The water was beautifully clear! And the breeze
was refreshing. I can imagine why tourists
flock here for sun and sand!

 

 

Traveling with Aussies - Volume 2

Cruise Day 14

We were at sea for seven days straight. I loved it – very relaxing! Plus more time to observe the Aussies On Holiday.

They continue to be a lively bunch. They are very participatory, too. Every show, game, activity, jewelry sales pitch – lots show up with great enthusiasm. A surprising number of tuxes and sparkly dresses on Formal Nights, too.

Even with the threat of a dead fish, the Aussies
were eager to fully participate in the maritime
Crossing the Equator ceremony.
Good on 'em!

They LOVE line dancing and “meet-ups.” Through the magic of Facebook, the self-propelled Aussies have arranged group gatherings for folks from various parts of Australia, people who were on last year’s World Cruise, people who want to knit together, chair yoga enthusiasts. A group took over my favorite quiet area today, complete with a whiteboard and handouts. I didn’t stick around to find out what they were doing. The lingering bartender was mystified, too. Rob later suggested it was a bridge playing group. Completely organized by the cruisers themselves. I'm hoping they asked Guest Services for the whiteboard, but I wouldn't put it past them to have toted it onboard themselves back in Sydney.

Photo snagged off the Facebook page.
I took a few photos of pool-side line
dancing but this one is better. From
my eavesdropping (much harder due
to their accents), at least half of the classes
are led by enthusiastic passengers.

The Aussies have kept our Cruise Director, Lloyd, very busy with all sorts of requests. He’s arranged special movie showings (requiring the Corporate Office to secure the licensing rights), added extra performances of favorite entertainers, and found locations for passenger-led activities and talks (Scottish line dancing taught by a passenger was niche but well attended as I wandered by). I even noticed two women who are clearly passengers now sporting name tags in the Library as semi-official Book Hosts.

The Australians also have been quite entertaining snarking at each other. There is a cruise-specific Facebook page where people post photos of their excursions, desperately ask about lost items, arrange the aforementioned meet-ups, and make a litany of requests of poor Lloyd. They also use the space to blast perceived poor cruiser behavior, call each other names for being rude, and provide dissertations on the proper way to eat a dinner roll (not even kidding; SO wish the post hadn't been deleted!). 

There is also a Communications Board in a common area near the Photography Department. I've never seen this on a cruise before, so I have no idea if it is a World Cruise thing, or if the Aussies requested it before we got on board. Either way, the bulletin board is supposed to be a venue for finding like-minded folks for activities, giving glowing shout-outs to crew members, and other happy public displays of encouragement. However, the board has devolved into an analog version of Facebook with all sorts of complaints and insults. I overheard one woman refer to it as the Bitch Board. She's not wrong! But wow, so much negativity! It's amusing...and sad.

The board had recently been cleaned out, which
prompted another set of complaints. Also amusing:
how often there are crowds gathered to read and
tsk tsk at all of the negative, gossipy comments.
Humans are so entertaining!

So, two weeks later, my initial impression of the Aussies hasn't changed. They are still loud and extroverted and demanding. But – at least for now – I am finding them more entertaining than annoying.

We went to Cape Verde?

After a week at sea, we finally set foot on dry land yesterday. Many of the crew were ESCTATIC. 

We asked a guy at the Future Cruises Desk if there are any Princess cruises that have more than 7 days straight at sea. He very wearily answered, “No. I’ve been with the company for 8 years and I’ve never been at sea so much as this cruise. And never for 7 days in a row.” I wouldn’t be surprised if he sprinted off the ship at his first opportunity.

Off the boat but still feeling sway-y.
I've learned to take my non-drowsy
Dramamine even on port days.

The ship was docked in port in Mindelo, Cape Verde off the coast of northwestern Africa for 8 hours. Long a part of Portugal, the island nation (there are 10 islands in total) has been an independent African country since 1975. Despite its small size and population (less than 500,000 residents), Cape Verde nonetheless is excitedly participating in the very imminent World Cup. Good luck to them!

Rob and I didn’t have any plans other than to wander around. We got off the ship at around 9:30am. Less than 90 humidity-soaked minutes later, we were back on board, looking for snacks and collapsing in the blessed air conditioning. Even so, we felt like we had seen everything we needed to. Albeit sweaty, I enjoyed the photo-oppy walk around Mindelo's port, seeing locals and their fly-laden market, and purchasing a cool souvenir that looks like I visited Africa. 

Lots of pretty colors!

Open-air market. LOTS of smelly fish.
Excited to see a kitty, though!

A Shell gas station. Two pumps on the side of
the road. People just pulled over, sort of
like a pit stop in a car race.

So much fish. It was...stinky.
Not easily photographed:
soooo many flies.

I walked past another woman who was
carrying cilantro. It smelled wonderful!

The friendly guy who made my souvenir.
He said he lives in Cape Verde now but
is originally from Timbuktu. He was excited
we had heard of it. I didn't have the heart to
tell him we use his city's name to mean
"the middle of nowhere." In reality, Timbuktu is
directly east of Cape Verde by about 1,400 miles.
In other words, the middle of nowhere.

As we relaxed on our balcony and gazed upon the small city built on the edges of a volcanic caldera, Rob and I wondered if we would ever remember visiting Cape Verde. In all honesty, I had never heard of the island before it appeared on our itinerary. And then it made the news for a bit in early May as being the first “maybe we’re sick” port for those hantavirus cruisers that had just sailed from Argentina. I'm relieved to say, that plague-y-ness seems to be a distant memory now.

The shade, snack, company, and view were
exactly what I needed after 90 whole minutes
of melting.

By the time we left, the mountain
was largely covered by fog.

So, yep, we went to Cape Verde. We have one more African port to go – with a quick detour to a Spanish vacation destination first. I suspect both will be more memorable than Mindelo.

Next stop: the Canary Islands!

Proof we were in Cape Verde. Sort of.
Honestly, the photo is so generic, it could
have been taken in a lot of places.

A Week At Sea

Prior to this cruise, the longest Rob and I had ever been “At Sea” was five days. We quite enjoyed the leisurely treks across the Pacific to Hawaii and the North Atlantic to Iceland. So we were excited about the prospect of seven uninterrupted days surrounded by nothing but deep blue South Atlantic waters. And we were right to be!

It was so blissfully relaxing! So much much-needed sleep. And reading. And staring out at the endless, lightly undulating ocean waters. And breathing. And not worry about much of anything (eventually).

So what else did we do to entertain ourselves?

We walked laps around the Promenade (2.8 laps equals 1 mile), and kept an eye out for flying fish.

We started off with Australian 
bottled water. They just started
handing out South African bottles.

I streamed “The Longest Day” about D-Day thanks to Amazon Prime, a Wifi package, and 3 hours to fill.

I gave myself a manicure.

I wrote a couple of blogs.

I caught up on a 2-month backlog of our local newspaper. I hadn’t read the newspaper since April 8 because these days, that’s about as current as I can stomach. Nevertheless, I skimmed along and - for better or worse - I am all caught up.

The news on April 9

We tried the Irish Lunch at the onboard pub (O’Malleys), whereupon I remembered I don’t like Guinness out of a can.

We checked out the tablecloth-and-linens lunch in the dining room. I felt so rogue wearing shorts and sneakers in there (allowed at lunch).

I wandered many upper decks looking for a lounge chair in the shade. I learned shade is very hard to come by near the equator.

Tiny bit of shade at the bar. And
those smart folks weren't budging.

I browsed the ship’s boutiques and did not buy the lovely scarf for $70.48 US. I did, however, buy the colorful, breezy pool cover-up for $10.54 US that I can use as a head covering as needed in upcoming places of worship.

Follow me for style tips.

We attended several destination talks about upcoming ports.

We transitioned from Pollywogs to Shellbacks upon crossing the equator on the morning of June 9, 2026.

I've got some tweaking to do before I print it out,
but not too bad! HA on you, joyless Guest Services Desk.

We did our best to comfort Patricia, who was having a heat-related seizure on a stairway as we awaited so many of the ship’s medical and officer staffs. Her late-arriving husband, Phillip, gave Rob a hearty, “Good on ya!” as we confirmed Patricia was in trained hands and our presence was no longer needed.

We attended two wine tasting events, including one at which Rob won a raffle. Cheers to that!

He got to choose the bottle, so he
selected a red from Italy. Dedicated
to not bringing any wine home with 
us, we shall enjoy this with dinner
sometime soon. Hopefully there's
no corkage fee.

We got to play a short game of Laundry Switcheroo. One of Rob’s t-shirts is still enjoying an unsanctioned tour of the ship.

These fine shirts belong to a 
Mr. Woodcroft

Thanks to the wonders of technology, we got to virtually celebrate the arrival of a new nephew! Welcome to the world and family, Henry!

Trust me when I say that William, James, and
Henry are absolutely adorable!

While we are eager to explore land and remember what it is like to walk without swaying, we are both sort of sad that our week of lazing about the ship has ended. We truly could have used a few more days of blissful nothingness. But onward we go! To Cape Verde!

No Longer Pollywogs

Apparently the ceremony – in some form – dates back to the late 1400s but it wasn’t really “a thing” until the 1700s. Charles Darwin wrote about his participation in 1832 while on the HMS Beagle. The ceremony morphed into a pretty brutal hazing event at one point, but now it’s more of a fun, memorable rite of passage amongst sailors who are commemorating their first sailing across the equator. Sailors, and cruise ship passengers.

The ceremony involves a loose storyline of Pollywogs (people who have never sailed across the equator) seeking the favor of King Neptune for safe passage. There’s a trial in which the Pollywogs are accused of various misbehaviors and are found guilty by the attending Shellbacks (people who have crossed the equator before). 

The Shellbacks exert punishment on the Pollywogs until King Neptune decides they have properly atoned for their bad deeds. There is much celebration and, in the case of cruise line passengers, photo ops and commemorative certificates. One US Naval Officer I know suggested his ceremony started in the weeeee hours and lasted until nearly lunch. Our ceremony was about 45 minutes and ended just as the buffet was opening. 

We weren't going to buy any overpriced
Princess photos and yet...

Rob and I (and Piglet, who shall have his own certificate thanks to photo editing trickery, no thanks to the Guest Services Desk who has no sense of fun and whimsy) became Shellbacks on June 9, 2026. We celebrated a bit before noon and it was HOT. And humid. Without much shade to be found.

We were slathered with SPF 50 and 
we still felt exposed. So we repurposed
a pool towel and a napkin on the fly.
Equatorial sun is no joke!

Two tables of colorful goop and a dead fish were set up, along with a LOT of plastic sheeting and towels placed on a large swath of the Lido Deck to assist with clean-up. A number of the ship’s junior crew (i.e. those who were voluntold they would be participating) dressed up in togas and formed The Court. Two others dressed as King Neptune and Queen Neptuna. Our cruise director was a lawyer of sorts. The Captain dropped by and gave a short speech.

The Queen and King

About 50 passengers volunteered to be tried. They were all found guilty of their misdeeds, which included complaining a lot, pushing all the buttons on the elevators, and going back for fourths at the buffet. As punishment, the Court threw goop and noodles and flour at them in a one-sided food fight.

The Court and good-sports 
passengers. We were not among them.
Someone needed to take photos, right?

It might have been pudding or whipped
cream. And then cooked noodles, topped
with flour to make it all stick.

The Court kicked into Revenge Gear when the Pollywogs among the ship’s Officers lined up in front of King Neptune. With the-tables-have-turned gusto, the Shellback junior crew doused their superiors in foodstuffs without any effort to contain their glee. This was after the Pollywogs had been forced to kiss the dead fish.

The fish was very floppy. And oozy. ICK!

The most proximate swimming pool
was closed the rest of the day for
extensive cleaning.

The ceremony ended with King Neptune proclaiming all in attendance to now be Shellbacks, regardless of whether they were wearing pink pudding and spaghetti. Rob and I quickly retreated to the blissful air conditioning of Sabatini’s for an international wine tasting event and to toast our newly bequeathed Shellbackery. 

Huzzah!

Back in our natural habitat.
The Austrian Grüner Veltliner was
my favorite. Rob liked the Italian
Nebbiolo.