As we departed by train for Lyon, the second largest city in France with a metro population of about 1.3 million and where we would begin a river cruise, we talked about how great the trip had been and with no “incidents” to speak of. For some reason Embry had nagging fears that something was bound to go wrong. This was understandable given our recent track record of our ill-fated flight to the BVIs, our challenges getting to Costa Rica and Puerto Rico, and the horrid Covid cruise in 2020. We were batting 0 for 4 for the past four trips. However, these trips were not total disasters by any means, and we now look back on them fondly, but they all had “issues” (which have been described in previous blog posts). What would go wrong this time? But the most vulnerable part of the trip was over. We had zipped through the airports thanks to wheelchair support for the frail elderly and thanks to our son, Andrew, our volunteer guide, who had led the excursion to Brittany to visit our sister-in-law and then on to an Airbnb in Paris and the Olympics. We were flying high. What could possibly go wrong on a river cruise?

Going on a European river cruise had been on my bucket list for years and that is why Embry had booked this cruise following the Olympics. It was for a six-day cruise on a riverboat owned by a German, family-owned company called Amadeus. The company owns 19 riverboats, which cruise the various rivers throughout Europe. This cruise, which was billed as primarily a German speaking cruise, covered about 550 miles on the Saone and Rhone rivers. The first leg was on the Saone River motoring upstream from Lyon for about 120 miles, then back downstream to Lyon where the river merged with the Rhone where we motored south for another 150 miles almost to the Mediterranean before returning to Lyon. The cruise took us through some of the most beautiful country you will ever see—one bucolic countryside after another, luxuriant hillsides and vineyards, ancient villages with busy central courtyards, town squares, and outdoor cafes, castles, Roman ruins, chateaus, and Medieval churches—just what you would expect and more. There was surprisingly little river boat traffic, and the weather was perfect—partly cloudy, highs around 80 and low humidity the entire time. Since the boat motored most of the nights, days were available for excursions to visit by tour bus other points of interest not on the river. Our favorite was Cluny, which in the Middle Ages was the largest abbey in France and contained the largest church in the world at the time, predating St Peter’s in Rome.

The Amadeus Provencal was the name of our riverboat, which looked like all the other riverboats on the Saone and Rhine, due to the challenge of passing under scores of low bridges and through dozens of locks. The boat was over a football field long, but only 15 feet tall and about 30 feet wide and drawing only about five feet. Staterooms were small but attractive and had large picture windows, which could be opened. There was a large dining room, a lounge/meeting room about the same size, a vast roof deck, an exercise room, and even a tiny “infinity swimming pool.” The boat cruised at 12-15 knots. Maximum guest capacity was 140 passengers though there were only 90 on our boat, which also had a crew of 40. Service was excellent with three meals a day included in the price including a four-course evening meal every day with unlimited wine. Waiters darted about carrying three bottles, white, red, and rose wine, assuring no glass was ever empty. The food was good but not superior—after all, this was a German company, not a French one–but still, nothing to complain about.

The first observation we had after boarding was “Good heavens, this is a retirement community!” Only a handful of the 90 passengers lacked gray or white hair.

Since the cruise was billed as primarily German speaking, Embry and I were a tad concerned, I less than her since with my horrible hearing I can’t hear much anyway. To our surprise, however, three “official” languages were in use—German, Dutch, and English. This meant that all the land excursions included local guides who spoke English. This was surprising because there were only seven native, English speakers, the two of us, two elderly British couples, and Nancy, an expat lady my age who had immigrated from the U.S. to Rome 25 years ago. Since the excursions—and table seating– were organized by language, we English speakers were able to have our own small group experience. Of course, since most Germans and Dutch are multilingual, we were able to chat with some of them at gatherings on the boat.

The only issue was Nancy. She was the American expat lady who asked me on the first day how old I was and proudly announced that she was born one year after me. She looked to me like she was closer to 100. The assigned seating for meals placed the two British couples at one table and the three Americans at another. The first evening meal together was a disaster. Nancy talked incessantly about herself and neither of us could get a word in. We got her entire life history—graduate of Vassar, PhD from Penn, accomplished college professor in biochemistry, Trump hater, and a bitter, outspoken critic of the U.S.—and an authority and know-it-all on whatever subject you might bring up to try to broaden the conversation. Well, one meal with her might be tolerable. Three meals a day for the entire cruise? As we left the meal the first evening, we looked at each other in dismay. Embry replied, “No worries. I told the head waiter that they had to put us at another table,” which they did, giving us our own table next to Nancy’s table, who except for the last day sadly remained alone at her table throughout the cruise. This was an unfortunate situation, which many guests on the boat let us know they were aware of. Never married, no family, lived alone in Rome, and alienated from her Trump-supporting siblings. In fact, she had partitioned the two British couples to allow her to join them. They turned her down.

The thing is that not only was her mealtime behavior intolerable for more than one meal with her, but she was also not playing with a full deck. Because she was one of us seven native English speakers, she joined us on most of the excursions. Several times she would initiate a conversation with us asking, “Do I know you?” or “Do you know me?” And she routinely asked questions to our guides which made no sense. We took a deep breath and asked the waiters to put us back at her table for the last meal, which they did, and which we endured but felt sympathy for her, for surely for her it was an imperfect river cruise.

The cruise concluded on a Saturday. The evening before there was a huge goodbye banquet followed by entertainment. I felt fine. However, around two A.M. early that Saturday morning I woke up with chills, fever, and an aching body. By the time for our last breakfast on board I knew something was wrong. I had no idea what disease I had, but whatever it was, there was nothing I could do other than gut it out on the long train ride from Lyon to the Paris CDG airport, spending a painful evening at a Novotel at the airport, and finally enduring the long slog on the flight home, fortunately in business class, but feeling worse every hour of the seven hour flight. Embry had searched in vain to purchase a face mask for me at the train station and airport so that I would not infect others but could find none. We did not see a soul wearing one on the flight over or anywhere we went in France.  After we landed the frail elderly wheelchair routine worked again, allowing us to avoid the massive line and go through passport control at Dulles in only a few minutes. On the cab ride home, all I could think about was collapsing into bed.

Of course, how could I avoid asking the question: Could this be the dreaded Covid? This would be my second episode. The first one in 2020 involved a rebound lasting almost a month.   After stumbling into our apartment, I immediately took a Covid test. It came out positive. Hardly a surprise, but still…. Someone on the boat had to have infected me but who? And how many people might I have infected? I coughed incessantly on the flight home and felt guilty about the harm I may have caused. Sadly, hardly anyone wears a mask nowadays, and Embry could not find a mask for me when I needed one.

After one full week, ending last Saturday, I finally started to feel a tad better and gave myself another Covid test.  Negative for Covid! Hurrah! I am now beginning to feel better and to get my strength back. I would not describe my Covid experience as a light case. I was miserable. Maybe I should have taken Paxlovid, though the doctor I talked to at Kaiser advised against it. But the good news is that Covid did not kill me.  I read in The New York Times today that 600 people are now dying every week in the U.S. from Covid—mainly seniors who have never been vaccinated. The Fat Lady hasn’t sung yet to celebrate putting the nail in the coffin of   this horrid disease. With so few people masked nowadays, it is only going to get worse.

Then I think about what could have happened. What if I had come down with Covid during the river cruise or at any time on Our Last Big Trip? It would have been a disaster! So, I am the lucky one. I am profoundly grateful finally to start to get back on my feet and to have made it through Our Last Big Trip before Covid nailed me. Embry’s intuition was right. Danger was lurking in the shadows, but we made it. Even if barely. And fortunately, she never got Covid despite being exposed.

If asked the question, “Other than that, Mr. Howell, how did you enjoy the cruise?” my answer would be “immensely” and ditto for the entire Howell’s Last Big Trip. Bottom line: If you have not done a European riverboat cruise, put it on your bucket list.