This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco…

So I remember when I was young, my grandparents would go on Scandinavia cruises aboard the so-called smaller ships. These are specialty ships, able to cruise into unique ports due to their size, and commanding hire fares due to their uniqueness. Generally they offer creative excursions and upscale learning experiences on board rather than the something-for-everyone concept of the traditional cruise lines such as Royal Caribbean. As a result, the itineraries are longer and the crowd tends to be older because, let’s face it, the old people are the only ones with the money and the time. Don’t worry, there aren’t any geriatric hairy leg contests, and grandpa isn’t getting jiggy with it anywhere that we can see. The passengers are under the careful governance of the cruise director, who dutifully points out sights not to be missed in 3 different languages, and, surprisingly, almost everyone is paying attention.

We joined a 7 day coastal cruise for just 8 hours, headed to Geirangerfjord and back, and had a chance to see the beautiful Norwegian landscape with about 300 international octogenarians. OK, they were probably septuagenarians, and let me tell you they were a rugged bunch. Sure, there were the select few that, when they awoke at 4:30 that morning, went up to the observation deck and installed themselves in the best indoor seats with a view. For the most part, though, the rest of the group was outside more than inside, despite the frigid wind whipping across the deck. These people could kick my ass for sure. I’d get so cold that I’d have to go inside for a bit, and sure enough, the same people were still outside when I got back. I’d see the tall, straight posture of their expensive parkas, the backs of their hooded heads held high to the wind, and I’d feel fine about having been inside for a coffee instead of watching the fjord roll by. I’d even get cocky for a minute, thinking about the rugged individualists that I am, until bam! One of the would turn around and, holy shit, it’s an apple doll! A shriveled up face, thin in the lips and tan but for the eyes, a living, breathing, apple head doll dressed in a 400 dollar parka. Scared the shit of out me.