Crossing the Ocean

The most anticipated part  of our journey had finally arrived. Embarkation day. After eighteen months of hard work, stress and more goodbyes than I care to count, it was time to board the ship that would take us across the Atlantic and one giant step closer to our new life.

The Queen Mary 2 was built in 2004 to replace the Queen Elizabeth II, designed to honor the history and majesty of the fleet.  It is the world’s only ocean liner and was built specifically for transatlantic crossings.  It was designed for rough open seas and moved faster than typical cruise ships.  There are four enormous stabilizers to manage the rough North Atlantic sea.  The funnel of the ship was specially designed to be able to pass under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge at high tide with a minimum clearance of 13 feet.  It also happens to be the only ship in the world with kennels.

So, why do I sound like a brochure for the Cunard Lines?  Well, because I had many, many months to study everything I could possibly find out about  the ship and the crossing.  I was obsessed with learn everything I could about the kennels and what Parker’s experience would be like.  I saw many shiny professional photos and videos but not much depicting real life. I finally found a couple of videos with people and their dogs in the kennels, but nothing in winter.   We would be sailing across the North Atlantic in January – pretty much the same route as the Titanic and that was the kind of stuff I needed to see!  After scouring the internet, I finally found a YouTube video from a cute young couple and their corgi.  Their video showed freezing snow and wind on the deck, the dogs having a bit of fun, and in their cabin, the bathroom door swinging  opened and closed over and over with the ship’s deep rocking.  The young woman in the video who looked borderline miserable said, “it’s like a ride at Disneyland that never stops”.  Now that’s the kind of information I was searching for!  I watched it over and over and over.  I really like seeing reality and not just the pretty, pretty people and their perfect, perfect vacations.

So, on that day, we said goodbye to my Uncle Tom and I set out to find out what to do and where to go.  It was a little chaotic outside the terminal building but I managed to find an agent who gave us our cabin number so I could fill out the million tags we needed for all of our bags.  We piled everything onto a cart and went inside the terminal building.   Inside, it was actually very calm and organized.  A few days before we were assigned our time to arrive at the terminal.  There were a lot of open service windows with hardly any people waiting.  Quite an impressive operation considering there would be over 2600 people boarding the ship that day.  

We checked in, our  bags and suitcases  taken away to be X-rayed and delivered to our cabin – the mountain of  our belongings now out of our sight for the first time since we left San Diego. Then we were told to take a seat and wait for the “Kennel Master” to come get us.  

We waited for what seemed like forever, but it may have just been 30 minutes or so – all the while people stopping to admire our handsome boy, who was sitting on a chair  like a proper gentleman waiting to board a fancy ship.  Finally, Oliver, the kennel master came to get us.  He apologized for the wait and explained that it takes some time to escort the dogs and their owners to the kennels and get the dogs settled in.  This would be the only time (besides disembarking) that the dogs would be allowed in the main areas of the ship.  We followed Oliver through the terminal, up an escalator, down long a hallway and then finally onto the ship.  We went up an elevator which opened on to the grand lobby.  We continued walking through the main throughways, passing by walls of dark polished wood and sculptured bronze panels.  We went up some stairs and into the main restaurant, weaving our way around the tables, then up more stairs and elevators, and down long hallways. After one last flight of stairs, we went out a door which opened onto a large open deck where the kennels were.  The ship was gigantic and it seemed like  we had been walking for miles, all the while I was trying to pay attention to Oliver’s directions and  instructions. But honestly I was so awe struck, I couldn’t absorb anything he was saying.  Would we ever be able to find our dog again?

The kennels were  on the 12th deck toward the front of the ship.  There were 24 kennels and 2 adjoining lounge rooms for visiting and meals. There was a gate that separated the large deck from the kennel area.  Just inside the gate was a fire hydrant and a lamppost – a humorous nod (and pee spot) to New York City and England, respectively. Beyond that, the deck wrapped around  the kennel area which was the outdoor area for the dogs.   Only pets and their owners were allowed in the kennel area. I had read that the dogs were sort of celebrities on the ship, and indeed we found this to be it true.  There were always people outside the gate trying to get a glimpse of the canine celebrities and they  always had lots of questions for the owners. 

Once we got to the kennels, we had a short orientation and the visiting schedule was explained to us.  There were 4 different times during the day that we could visit, equaling 8 hours a day.   During these times, the dogs could be out of their kennels and could take walks around the kennel deck or hang out in the lounge areas with their owners.  We were told that the dogs responded best to a predictable schedule and it certainly made things more manageable for the kennel masters – Oliver and John.  The time came to put Parker in his kennel.  We brought a bed from home to put in his kennel to make him feel more comfortable, but of course he did NOT like going into the kennel.  The Pampered Pup protested – quite vocally.  He hated being confined and watching us walk away.  Seeing his pathetic little face looking out through the kennel door killed us!   Our grand voyage meant Parker would be caged for the next 8 days.  Really….who were we doing this for again? We were then “encouraged” to leave and go find our cabin.  Oliver said we could return to visit as soon as they got all of the pets checked in and settled in their kennels.  Oh boy… leaving our boy in doggy jail was tough. We could hear him whining and barking as we left.  Oliver and John assured us that this was normal, they knew exactly how to handle all of the animals – or more accurately, how to handle the helicopter pet parents.

 So, we went to find our cabin.  Originally, when I booked our trip, I reserved a cabin on the 6th deck, mid-ship.  I was very concerned about sea sickness, so being lower and in the middle of the ship would be  more steady in rough seas.  However, when we got our cabin number from the agent earlier, we were told we got a complementary upgrade to the 11th deck, toward the front of the ship. I’m sure they were thinking they were doing us a favor because it was much closer to the kennel deck.  Oh jeez.  But, since I had been so worried about sea sickness, I came fully armed with scopolamine patches, sea bands and every herbal remedy I could find.  I  decided I’d hope for the best and enjoy the upgrade. 

We walked down one flight of stairs and then down, down, down another long hallway and found our cabin.  It was compact but had everything we needed and was very nicely decorated in cream, navy and gold. We had a great covered balcony and there was a bottle of champagne on ice to welcome us.  But the very first thing that drew my attention was the huge king-sized bed.  All I could think of was how I could hardly wait to crawl into bed that night and sleep, sleep, sleep.  I had been dreaming about that for months…. no place to go and nothing to do except rest and recuperate for 8 days and 7 nights…..bliss.  

We went back up to the kennels the minute were allowed to for the first scheduled visiting time.  The three of us were able to be together as we departed the port.  It was quite awe inspiring to be standing there in the cold,  glass of champagne in my hand, whiney dog by our side as we sailed past the Statue of Liberty and watch the lights of New York City disappear behind us.  But wow….the highlight was when we were leaving New York Harbor and passing under the Verrazano Narrows Bridge.  Being almost at the upper-most level of the ship, it looked like the funnel was just inches below the bridge. It took my breath away.

After that, we were “encouraged” to leave again, with the promise that we could return soon for the last visit of the night.   We put the pup back in the kennel and he protested again, of course.  We listened to his whining and barking as we reluctantly left.  

We took a walk around the  upper decks before getting ready for dinner.  We were walking past the giant letters that spelled out Queen Mary 2 on the side of the ship and as I looking out over the water and back towards New York, I suddenly burst into tears – totally startling Skip.  I was simply overcome with emotion.  After a year and a half of dreaming of this day, I couldn’t  believe we were really on the ship.  I was elated, nervous, excited, happy, sad…..everything all at once.

Back to the cabin again, we found that our bags had been delivered….all 10 pieces.  We took some time to stow everything the best we could.  Way back in San Diego, when our daughter, Trisha – the packing czar – was in charge, she insisted that we have separate suitcases for the road trip and the ship, with all of the other bags for everything else that we wouldn’t  need until we got to France.  The czar was quite relentless all those weeks before, but now that we had to manage all of our crap in such a small space, I was truly grateful for her bossy foresight! We were expected to adhere to a dress code for dinner – “smart attire” was how it was described. I was so tired at that point, but did my best to meet minimal “smart” standards, enough not to embarrass myself or my dinner date.  

We went back up to the kennels before dinner.   We had purposely chosen the later dinner seating so that we could be with the pup for the last visit of the day. After a short visit, we kissed our boy goodnight and promised to be back first thing in the morning.  Oliver promised us he’d be ok, but Parker didn’t seem nearly as convinced when we put him back in his kennel for the night.  It was the third time putting him into the kennel for the day and it certainly wasn’t getting any easier – for all three of us.

Down to dinner we went.  We chose a table for just the two of us rather than a larger shared table, but the tables were still very close together.  Lucky for us, a lovely British couple, Sharon and Mike sat next to us and we hit it off immediately…..turns out they were dog lovers too.   We had a wonderful dinner together, delicious food and easy conversation.  It was our very first meal on board and we already made new friends. 

So, there was day one done.  We gratefully fell into our comfy bed….anxious to see the pup in the morning and to explore the ship some more.

I slept great that night – I’m sure partly from sheer exhaustion and partly from my scopolamine buzz.  But, our Parker Boy, I’m not so sure.  Oliver said he pooped in his kennel…..what?????? That was NOT normal. He never pottied in the house…ever. Oliver said it wasn’t unusual for the first night – the dogs protesting their new digs, but honestly, I wasn’t sure about that.  Poor boy, that must have been a rough night for him. However, we already loved Oliver and John. They were both adorable and clearly loved their jobs and the dogs seemed very comfortable with them.  We just had to trust them and hope things would get better of our pup.  

The Queen Mary 2 definitely lived up to all of the hype….absolutely gorgeous with a rich elegance and old world feel, honoring the historic ships of the past.  Dark polished wood, huge fresh floral displays, glass sculptures, art galleries, vintage photographs lining the long hallways, and gleaming teak decks.   There were endless  activities to participate in, entertainment every night, a planetarium, casual and elegant dining, a spa, a gym, art classes, game rooms, a library, specialty bars, coffee rooms, casino….everything you could possibly imagine on such a grand vessel.  However,  we didn’t experience much of it.    We just became Kennel People.  With 8 hours of visiting time each day, the majority of our time was spent with our pup and the other Kennel People. 

The Kennel People were an interesting group, as you might expect from overindulgent dog people.  As I’m writing this now, I can’t believe that I forgot most everyone’s names….even the dogs! But, we were definitely was an eclectic bunch. There was an eccentric older German woman who was quite salty and severe when we first met, but warmed up quickly. She and her little yorkie were on their seventh crossing together. Her dog was actually a certified support animal. She spent plenty of time with the rest of us Kennel People, but she said she liked that he could stay in the kennels – like having the nannies mind the baby. Oliver knew that little dog well and pampered him plenty. There was Chris and Chris and their sweet black lab, Charlie. They were a fun English couple – whom we would differentiate by referring to them as “Boy Chris” and “Girl Chris”….which was fine with them – they were used to it. They were relocating back to England after living in Florida for several years. Tragically, they had another dog who succumbed to advanced cancer on their drive from Florida to New York. They were just trying to get their beloved pup home. I can’t even imagine how painful that time was for them…..leaving Florida with two dogs and the devastation of losing one along the way. Their heartbreak was palpable. There was one family who visited their dog only once during the entire trip and that was on picture day. Oliver and John felt so sorry for that little pup and spent as much time with him as they could. I remember the look on Oliver’s face when he was telling me about that. He was so mad! He really loved the dogs.

We had plenty of time to get to know each other  in all of those hours. It was cold outside, so we often found ourselves piled up together in the small lounge areas.  We quickly learned which dogs got along together and the ones who needed more space. We all worked together taking turns out on the deck to keep the peace.  The dogs could be off leash in the right situations and got to run around a bit.  There was another couple with two large high strung dogs. They were very cognizant of the potential disruption to the group and mostly kept to themselves. They were very courteous and respectful and I felt bad that they couldn’t relax and hang out with the rest of the group. Charlie and Parker didn’t get along very well either, but we figured out how to keep them away from each other while still managing to allow us humans to visit a bit.

Oliver and John got to know all of the dog’s personalities and their quirks and knew exactly how to maintain harmony. This was an amazing feat considering there were 19 dogs and 3 cats in a relatively small space (the kitties had their own visiting times, when they could be out of their kennels to be with their owners).    Parker can be a jackass sometimes, but one of the dogs he co-existed peacefully with was Marcel the corgi.  Marcel was an unusually gorgeous and fluffy specimen, with an irrepressible personality to match.  His coloring made him look a bit like Parker’s mini-me.  They had a great time running around on the deck together. Marcel’s parents, a French couple, Pierre, a chef and Auralie a professional photographer were returning to England after two months touring the US. They were the first people – and dog – we met. We actually boarded the ship at the same time as them. We really enjoyed our time with them both and Auralie and took wonderful photos of our supermodel pups.   We found out later that Marcel was quite famous!  We joked later that he didn’t like to tell people because he wanted to make sure he was liked for himself and just for his celebrity status. Check him out – “lecorgi” on Instagram.  

Meals in the kennel were befitting of such a grand ship.  The ship provided the food of our choice, a pricey freeze dried raw food,  but on day one, Oliver asked us if it was ok if he gave him some other special food too.  The ship’s kitchen would send up chicken, steak or salmon and assorted steamed vegetables…..room service for our spoiled dogs!   Oliver took great pride in whipping up these fancy meals for his furry guests and knew exactly how to get everybody fed happily and safely.

Parker LOVED mealtime but kennel time, not so much.  Putting him back in the kennel was never easy for him – or us  On the third morning when we went to visit him, he had a dime-sized gash above his his nose – presumably from bashing his face on the kennel door in protest.  He did NOT look happy. We weren’t happy either.   Oh….the guilt was killing us.  We could see his anxiety amping up when he would anticipate the end of our visits. He would become so distressed, whining and carrying on.  Poor boy.  John suggested that he be the one to put him back after our visits.  He said he would take him for a short walk on the deck while we would sneak out.  This seemed to make it be easier for the pup.  I still don’t think he slept very well at night.   Oliver said that the dogs settled well and were quiet at night, but  when we’d spend those hours in the lounges with the Kennel People, Parker would lay on the couch next to us and sleep so deeply….like he finally felt relaxed enough to completely let go.  I don’t think he was miserable all of the time….he absolutely loved his meals and treats, and playing with Marcel and he clearly loved Oliver and John.  I don’t think he was in constant  misery.  But still…the guilt.

We started to get into a groove, a routine to enjoy ship life.  We spent every possible moment with Parker, making sure one of us were with him every minute we were allowed to be.  Sometimes Skip and I would take turns, allowing each other have time to ourselves and  to enjoy some of the activities on the ship.  Skip took a painting class that met a few mornings that week, which he really enjoyed. I went to a yoga class one morning. It was held wayyyyyy down in the bowels of the ship in what appeared to be an unused and somewhat neglected meeting room, complete with stacked up tables and chairs.  It was freezing in there, but still, good to get on the mat.  I visited the gym too….very well equipped with huge windows to enjoy the endless views of the ocean.  But with the ship heaving and rolling in the waves, both my feet would leave the surface giving me the oddest sensation of split second weightlessness.  We discovered  the best way to get our exercise was to take the stairs as much as possible and to walk the outdoor deck that went around the entire ship, each lap a quarter of a mile.  

Skip would usually go down for breakfast early, then go to the first visit of the day with Parker.  As for my lazy self, I would take my time in the morning and have my coffee and breakfast in my cabin.  After getting ready for the day, I’d take the late morning shift.  Later, we’d meet for lunch, take a walk, or explore the ship until the next doggy visit.  One of my very favorite things on the ship was afternoon tea. Skip would take his shift with the pup while I made may way down to the the regal  and ornate Queen’s Room.  The traditional tea was  served on fine bone china, the service excellent.   Tasteful harp or piano music played while I consumed the equivalent of my body weight in scones and clotted cream…classy gal that I am.  Thank god for the stairs and the laps around the ship.

The food aboard the ship was amazing.  As with any cruise ship, there was the opportunity to stuff yourself silly 24 hours a day, but mostly we stuck to meals in the restaurants. The portions were modest, so we  could indulge in all courses including dessert.   Dinners were always excellent – food, wine and service.  We’d have dinner each night with our new friends, Sharon and Mike.  In addition to dressing “smart” for dinner and there were two formal nights.  On one of the formal nights, we actually decided to participate in the evening’s entertainment – a Roaring Twenties theme in the Grand Ballroom.  After dinner, we went and took a quick peak at the festivities, saw the people dancing in all their finery –  which Skip said looked like the casting call for The Shining (what a smart ass) – and promptly turned around and went to back our cabin. Jeez!  It was 10:30 pm and my feet hurt from my dumb fancy shoes, so what more would you expect from us? 

On day six there was the Pet Parade and picture day. Oliver and John dressed in their formal red Queen Mary 2 regalia. The dogs were given their Queen Mary 2 jackets. The first one they gave Parker looked like an oversized bathrobe, but we  exchanged it for one that fit properly – befitting such a handsome gentleman.  Then the dogs and their owners were led in a circle around the large, open section of the 12th deck…the only time the dogs were allowed out of the kennel area.  There was a good size audience who came to watch their favorite canine celebrities parade around the deck in their royal finery.  Two of our favorite Kennel People, an adorable couple with an even more ridiculously spoiled dog than ours – if that’s even possible – came truly dressed for the occasion. One of them was in a tuxedo and the other in full Scottish Highland regalia….kilt and all.  They did a few extra rounds of the parade route, much to the delight of the audience. It was awesome.   The ship’s photographer came to take family portraits for us all.  My boy was extremely photogenic – I know I’m biased, but it’s the truth! But, as handsome as he was, that boy would NOT smile that day.  Parker could never hide his feelings.  His mood was always plainly written all over his face….peaceful contentment, big happy smiles, bared teeth when feeling scared (or just being a jerk) or the firmly set mouth when he was annoyed or unhappy.  He wagged his tail and gave kisses to his favorite people that day, but those lips remained tightly pressed together.  He’d done this many other times, when I’d try to make him perform for the camera and he just didn’t wanna.  I don’t blame him for being moody that day….or any other day on the ship.  He really tolerated a lot for those eight days and seven nights.  But still, it was a good time getting to chat with other passengers about our pups and to get to explore more with Parker.  It had to be more interesting for him after being in the small kennel area for all of those days.

Now let’s move on to the weather. Since we were crossing the North Atlantic in January I was fully expecting freezing temperatures and rough seas, but the power of the wind and the ocean had to be experienced to truly believe.  I mentioned before my fear of seasickness, but much to my surprise, I really did get my sea legs.  On day 3, I was getting tired of being so tired, so I cautiously removed my scopolamine patch.  Much to my extreme relief, I was ok! It became normal to brace myself on the hallway walls with the rocking of the ship, or to instinctively grab my wineglass during dinner without the slightest break in the conversation.   I also mentioned the four stabilizers that were designed to ship steady the ship during rough seas.  After a day or so, I became aware of the steady vibration of the stabilizers and when the waves were the highest, I could feel how hard they were working.  Live weather reports were always available and could be seen on the TV in the cabin.  On the third day of the trip, the weather report showed rain, rough seas and “force 7, near gale” winds.  It was pretty wild, but also exhilarating to watch the swirling snow and  the huge waves bashing the ship. I had no fear. I had complete faith in the ship and the captain.  Later that night, things got really crazy. The winds increased to “force 10, storm”.  The ship wasn’t just rocking from side to side, but also front to back.  While laying in bed that night, it felt like a gyroscope, like I needed to hold on to the side of the bed.  But still, no seasickness….amazing.  When we went to visit the pup the next the morning, John told us he was knocked out of his bed during the storm.  I really wondered how our poor pets tolerated the storm high on the 12th deck. Parker must have been terrified. (Ughhhh…..more guilt.)

Back on the second night of the trip, there was an unexpected stop in Halifax, Nova Scotia.  It was a surprise to see that we were approaching land when we were supposed to be out in the open ocean.  There was an announcement by the captain that there was a sick passenger who needed to be taken to the hospital. A little bit of excitement, but after just an hour or so, we were on our way again.    I’m not sure how far off course we were, but the captain made another announcement saying that it would be no problem to make up the time and he expected to arrive in the port of Southampton on January 10 on time, as scheduled. 

As with the weather report, the course of the ship and was always available too.  On the night of the wildly growing storm, I was switching between the weather and sea conditions and the course of the ship.  Over a few minutes, it looked like the ship was making a sharp turn to the left.  I thought maybe it had something to do with the storm, but it soon became clear that the ship was turning around.  Soon after, the captain made an announcement that there was another medical emergency that would require the ship to head back toward land to allow for a helicopter to land on the ship and take the passenger back to Halifax.  Further, the captain explained that he had to attempt to move the  ship away from the severity of the storm.  It was close to midnight, the storm was still crazy, and the captain’s directive was for all passengers to stay in their cabins to allow the emergency personnel to manage the situation.  Around 1:30am, we could hear the helicopter and my rebel husband tried to leave our cabin to get a peek of the action.  But there was a guard in the hallway who stopped  him.  Skip told him he needed to go check on our dog, but the guard wasn’t having it, and shooed him back into the room immediately.  I’m not sure how far we were from Halifax, but after the helicopter left, the captain must have made the turn to get us back on course, and back into that crazy, crazy storm.

The next morning, there was another announcement from the captain that the helicopter was actually unable to actually land on the ship, due to the severe storm conditions .  The passenger and the nurse had to be airlifted up into the helicopter.  Oh my god….can you even imagine?  That poor passenger must have been in very dire condition to have be rescued in such extreme conditions. The passenger and the nurse must have been terrified, I know I would have been. 

Everyday on the ship, the captain made his daily announcement.  I think it was the day after the doggy parade, I can’t remember exactly, but during the announcement, the captain said that despite his best efforts to make up the time lost by the second passenger requiring medical care and the rescue at sea during that wild storm, we would definitely be late getting into the port at Southampton by at least several hours.  This presented a couple of challenges for us. Please read on for my overly extensive explanation of these challenges.

Months and months before I had to work out another, surprisingly complex part of this voyage. How to get us from the ship in England over to France?  I spent a lot of time and brain cells trying to figure that out. It was almost a bigger dilemma to get across the English Channel than it was to get across the Atlantic.  

• Idea #1: Take a taxi from Southampton to Folkestone, then the train from Folkestone to Calais, via the Chunnel, then pick up a rental car.  Problem: dogs not allowed in taxis or trains in England.  
• Idea #2: Rent a car in Southampton and drive – either via the train through the Chunnel (in the vehicle car of the train) or ferry to Calais, return English rental car and pick up French rental car.  Problem: driving on the wrong side of the road on the wrong side of the car in England and exorbitantly expensive to return a car to another country.  
• Idea #3: One of us stay in Southampton while the other took a taxi and train  to Calais, pick up a French rental car then drive back to Southampton – via train through the Chunnel and pick up other person, dog and pile of luggage then drive back to France.  Problem: too expensive and leaving one of us to navigate this complicated plan alone, not to mention a big fat pain in the ass.  

So what to do?  

Early in our planning, even before I booked the Queen Mary 2, I researched pet transport companies.  Remembering this, I contacted one in England that I read about before.  I knew they transported pets from England to France – in fact, they transported pets all over the world.  They either provided the transportation themselves or organized the travel and accompanied pets from one location to another.  It got me thinking that if they could pick up a pet and transport them to another location, why not allow a couple of humans to tag along?  I emailed and asked if they could do such a thing, and they said they would definitely consider it.  After some long phone calls with very kind and patient people, they agreed to help us out.  It was going to be very expensive, but no more than my stupid and elaborate plan #3. Expensive, but so worth it.  A driver would meet us at the ship and take us all – dog, humans and our pile of luggage – to Calais, directly to the car rental agency.  Easy peasy.  A relief to have that settled. 

So, the day we found out our ship was going to be delayed, I remembered that our driver was planning to meet us at noon on January 10.  I had to figure out how to contact the company or the driver to let him know about the delay.  I had no wifi on the ship and I didn’t have any idea even how to make an international call, of if I even could make a call while still at sea!  So, I paid a ridiculous fee for 30 minutes of the ship’s wifi and quickly found the company’s information and sent an email, hoping they would see it and let the driver know.  We really didn’t know exactly when we’d get into port or how long it would take to disembark.  I would just have to hope that the driver got the message and would wait for us! 

On our final day, as we were coming into port, It occurred to me that we’d have to contact our rental car company and let them know we’d be late.  I didn’t know exactly how late, but I was estimating we’d get to Calais around 6:00pm.  You wouldn’t think that would be a big deal, right?  After all, we reserved and paid for the car months before, so I couldn’t imagine it would be a problem just to hold on to the car for a few extra hours.  Oh, but we were so wrong, so very wrong.  A few challenges here….first, as I mentioned before, I couldn’t even figure out how to call them.  I was moving to a foreign country and I don’t think I ever made an international call before….what a dork!  Plus there was that pesky problem of me not able to speak French!  Luckily, we made friends with Marcel Le Corgi’s parents, Auralie and Pierre, who are French.  Auralie was so kind and made the call for me.  Well, wouldn’t you know it, the car rental agency in Calais closed at 5:00pm and wouldn’t open until the following Monday. Wait, what??  It was a Friday, we’d be going to Calais, a very busy port city, where many trains and ferries came and went.  What did they mean they closed at 5:00pm on a Friday and would be closed all weekend?  I could not wrap my head around that.  This was also our first exposure  to this particular aspect of French culture…not terribly concerned about commerce….c’est la vie!!  So, dear Auralie – a very determined woman, I came to find out – made more calls and pleaded our case to any agent who would listen. She miraculously found another agency – 100km south of Calais that would be open on Saturday morning.  They had one car available and agreed to hold it for me.  I say this was a miracle because there was a train strike going on in France at that time – another fun quirk about France….strikes of one kind or another all the time.  Because of the train strike, rental cars were very scarce in France at that time.  Like I said, Auralie was very persuasive.  I really don’t know how she did it, but I am forever in her debt! 

We had to have most of our luggage ready and outside our cabin door by 10:30pm on our last night so it could be collected and organized for pick up when we arrived at the terminal the next day. The next morning we took our time to enjoy our last few hours in our cabin before heading up to spend the rest of our voyage with the Kennel People.  It was a cold but calm and beautiful day.  It was quite something to watch land get closer and closer after being out on the open ocean for so many days.  We could see the white cliffs on the coast of France in the distance as we entered the English Channel.  I remember thinking it would have been a whole lot easier if we could just be dropped off a little further across the Channel!  We sailed slowly past the Isle of Wight and a short time later, we docked at the Port of Southampton.  As soon as the ship was docked, the DEFRA officers came on board to check the travel documents that would allow the dogs and cats to leave the ship.  When everyone was cleared to go, Oliver and John led the gang of humans and dogs and cats back down all the hallways, stairs and elevators and through the Grand Lobby where some of the ship’s staff and many other passengers were there to watch the spectacle pass through.  Our friends Sharon and Mike surprised us there with a quick hug goodbye and promises to keep in touch (which we did). We were told that the Kennel crew was given top priority to disembark, even before the first class passengers….not sure if they approved, but we certainly enjoyed that perk!

After our of restful week of being pampered in the most plush surroundings, we were all spit out into a gigantic, ugly  hanger-like space with row after row after row of luggage waiting to be picked up.  We located most of our bags quickly but then spent another, very frustrating 30 minutes or so searching row by row for the rest of our bags.  Meanwhile, Skip went outside and much to our relief, our pet transport guy was waiting for us….thank god. 

Our long awaited adventure at sea had come to a very unceremonious end.

Into a pet transport van we went….10 suitcases and bags and our pup into a travel crate in the back of the van.  Oh, he was thrilled to be going back into a cage, but it was the policy of the company.  After whining in true Parker-like fashion for a few minutes, he fell into a deep sleep.  Our driver was a very friendly and talkative man – perfect for my friendly and talkative husband.  Skip sat in the front seat and I sat in the back near my pup….dozing on and off while Skip and our driver had easy, lively conversation.  Between dozing, I overheard a lot of chat about Brexit…he was definitely a proponent which I found both interesting and a bit disconcerting.  Almost three hours later, we arrived at the train station in Folkestone at entrance of the Channel Tunnel where the van would drive onto the train, into a vehicle transport car.  We went into the terminal for a pitstop and some snacks.  Imagine my complete surprise when I saw Marcel Le Corgi on a big screen at the entrance of the terminal in the informational video about navigating the train travel!  He really was famous!  

So, back into the van we went and then we had to go through passport control, as it was considered that we were crossing the French border when we boarded the train. There was a tense moment when it seemed they were questioning Parker’s documents. I mean, really….imagine if we would have gotten all the way to that point and have something go wrong!  But, thankfully, the officer stamped our passports and Parker’s documents were approved and onto the train we drove.  The van was directed to a place where the wheels were locked in, kind of like when you go into a drive through car wash.  We sat in the van, ate our snacks and listened to the pup whine while we traveled way down deep under the English Channel for 37 minutes (I had to try not think about that part too much), and then came out on the other side into Calais.  Finally, we were in France.  

We were dropped off at an Ibis hotel a short way from the train staton.  After a group photo and goodbye to our friendly pet transporter, we checked into our modest, but comfortable room for the night.  This was definitely a huge step down from our luxurious accommodations on the Queen Mary, but for our Parker Boy, this was a major upgrade from his kennel as he settled himself onto the comfy bed and passed out for the night. 

The next morning, I got up and went to talk to the front desk receptionist to see if there was any alternative to going 100km away to pick up our rental car.  She confirmed that no car rental agencies nearby would be open on the weekend.  She told me the best way get to the agency – the one that Auralie so kindly found for me – was to take a taxi.  I have to admit that I was very nervous about going on this journey by myself (Skip was staying behind with the pup and the luggage), but I decided that I needed to pull up my big girl panties and do this for my family.  The receptionist called the taxi for me and after a few minutes, the taxi driver arrived – an older man who didn’t speak a word of English – but that’s ok – I was in his country after all. The receptionist explained my situation and we hit the road.  It was a long and somewhat uncomfortable drive since neither of us were talking.  After about an hour, we left the motorway and drove into a very small town. I was becoming more and more nervous as each minute passed.  I had absolutely no idea where I was and I was very skeptical that if the car rental agencies weren’t open on the weekend in a busy city like Calais, why would one be open in a tiny town like this….if there even was one!  Eventually, we stopped on a small street and there was a small sign that said  “EuropCar” over a garage  that was next to a small office.  Really? Was this it? I paid the driver, thanked him and said “vous être très gentil” (you are very kind) which I had practiced in my mind over and over on the long drive. I made my way into the small office as I looked back at my driver, who was standing next to his car, watching me.  When I made sure I was in the right place, I stepped outside and waved at my driver.  He waved back and got back in his car and drove away.  Barely a word spoken between us, and he still took the time to make sure I was ok.  Indeed he was très gentil. 

So, yes,  much to my surprise and enormous relief, I was in the right place.  A very kind and patient woman – who also didn’t speak a word of English helped me through the process, confirming that Auralie explained everything to her, confirmed that she understood the car and the insurance were prepaid. She showed me to the car that we would use for the next month – a Jeep SUV with an automatic transmission – pretty surprising for France.  I thank her profusely and used my new favorite French phrase, “vous être très gentil”, which made her laugh a little but I could tell she appreciated the sentiment.  Indeed, she too was très gentil.  

I took a big breath and got into the car and to drive the 100km back to the hotel. When I got back, the sweet receptionist asked me how it all went.  This was another new aspect about French culture I experienced – the absolute kindness of the people and willingness to help.  This is something I have experienced again and again over these last four years I have lived in France.  

I will end here for now…..on the morning of our first day in France.   When I started writing this post, I thought it would be pretty short.  I didn’t think I’d have a whole lot to say about the ship. How much could be said about being a Kennel Person?   Obviously, I found a lot to share – probably way too much.  Writing all of the details is actually quite revealing to me too.  Reliving it – all of the minutia – gives me a true appreciation for how far we have come.  Going back through my photos to help me recall these experiences makes me feel close to my pup – like he’s still right here with me.  It’s still hard to believe he’s gone.  I probably should change the name of this blog to “Parker’s Big Adventure” since the whole thing seems to revolve around him.  I still have more to share and he will always be a main player in our French story.  I’ll do my best to keep it interesting for the human reader and will try not to wallow too much.  Bear with me.

Much love to you,

❤️ Lisa