I used to be a slave to my watch. There were times I rushed back to my house after leaving for work to frantically retrieve a forgotten watch, missing my commuter train in the process. I simply HAD to know what time it was at all times.
The last day I regularly wore a watch was December 17, 2000 ~ the day before my first back surgery. Since then, I have gleefully abandoned my need for constant time awareness and keeping multiple appointments and meetings each day. That is, until I am on a cruise.
I learned on Cruise #1 that staterooms do not have clocks; therefore, a cell phone and its alarm are handy to make sure dinner reservations are kept and that shore excursions are boarded on time. I learned on Cruise #2 that cell phones do not always keep up with you geographically when traveling internationally and be-bopping across time zones, so it is much better to have a wristwatch for daily time keeping and a travel alarm clock for stateroom time keeping. So for Cruise #3, I acquired a small travel clock a la Radio Shack and dug out an old watch from my jewelry box. Predictably, the battery was long dead.
I couldn't remember which wrist I used to wear my watch on. I remembered that it was opposite what most people do ~ at least that's what my dentist told me once. I tried it on each wrist and settled on the left one. After three days now, I am still not used to it. It feels foreign and bulky.
It strikes me as rather ironic that the only time I wear a watch now is while on vacation. Isn't that when you are supposed to throw your schedule to the wind and just do things on your whim? And yet we've had quite a busy schedule to keep the past several days, what with a bus tour and tenders and a history presentation and dinner and the cupcake tea party. Not only have I been consulting my watch often, Rob is now getting in the habit of asking me what time it is. He hasn't worn a watch regularly for as long as I've known him. I've decided being his talking clock is good job security.
This morning we woke up in Halifax, Nova Scotia in the Atlantic time zone. Atlantic time zone? I didn't know there was such a thing. Far as I knew two days ago, after the Eastern time zone you just popped over to whatever zone Portugal is in. I'll research it later, but I suspect the Atlantic time zone only covers Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Newfoundland, and any other “new” places on the eastern coast of Canada. And so both my watch and my Radio Shack alarm clock were set ahead one hour last night in amongst the big waves we rocked through all night.
And how was Halifax? We liked it. A lot. Better than Bar Harbor in fact. It's a city of about 114,000 Haligonians with two major events in its history: it played a big part in the recovery efforts for the Titanic disaster; and in 1917 two ships collided in its harbor – one filled with ammunition for the war – and a huge explosion took out an entire section of town and several thousand residents. Aside from that, it's a beautiful little city with an English feel to it. We found a lovely public garden and a fascinating old cemetery during our several-hour stroll around the mildly hilly historic downtown area. The residents were friendly and unassuming. The sun came out and we found a wine shop. And we returned to our stateroom to find a plate of conciliatory chocolates from Vanessa and Lieke, our Telephone Concierges “...apologizing once more for the air conditioning concern...” All in all a great day.
Photo count: 80 Dramamine count: 4
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