Bad photo juju

As I hefted my big green suitcase onto the bed to pack it, the plug-in charger for my camera batteries fell out.

To appreciate the irony of this, we must return to the Great Wall of China, where after I had taken a few pictures, my camera announced that it needed its battery changed, and turned itself off. "Damn!", I thought, "I know I didn't pack that recharger. Now what?"

But the concierge at the Beijing Sheraton Dongcheng was up to the challenge. He dispatched a minion to a camera store, got an all-purpose camera battery recharger (and a second battery), and got a half charge into one battery -- all there was time for. I repaid the costs and set forth confident that I had my camera woes resolved.

Fast forward to the overnight to the Taj Mahal. At the hotel, I raise my camera to snap the picturesque valet and once again, "Change battery, charge low." The next day, I was to see the Taj Mahal, I had to have a camera. But I'm now a seasoned world traveler, I can just ask the concierge to get me a battery charger or even a new camera -- it is, after all, my once-in-a-lifetime visit to the Taj. But midday in Beijing is not late evening in Agra. The concierge looked at me as if I were only the latest of a long line of crazy tourists with absurd expectations, and said in the slow enunciation one uses with a fussy child, "I am sorry, Madame, but no stores are open at this  time."

Unreasonably, I felt ill-used. "The Chinese solved this problem for me," I thought, confirming the Agra concierge's unspoken evaluation of me, and went off, pouting. Eventually I realized that I had my tablet with me, and that my tablet has both front and rear facing cameras, and schlepping the tablet through the security line got me a great conversation with one of the machine-gun-carrying guides, who was curious about my "iPad", which has apparently become the international generic for tablets, so that one turned out OK too.

When I returned to the ship, one of the first things I did was to try to recharge my camera's batteries with the universal recharger. I couldn't figure out how to make it work. No instruction manual, and all labels were, of course, in Chinese. After several days of failure, I went to the photography shop on board, and they were great, going far above and beyond, but they too were unable to make it work.

Photography was forbidden in the Valley of the Kings anyway, and I am (by the grace of God) not all that photographically oriented anyway, so the Suez Canal passed undetected. But by the time we got to Greece, I had decided I wanted a camera and went out and bought a new one -- cheapest model point-and-shoot, powered by AA batteries, adequate to the task of reminding me where I had been. 49 Euros.

Now we are on the tour of Barcelona. I know I put the new camera in my bag. The guide says, "Around this next corner is one of the most magnificent views in all of Sevilla, perhaps all of Spain." And he is right, we are staring at the gloriously elaborate facade of Sevilla's cathedral in the morning sun, I reach into my bag -- and cannot find the camera. I search frantically without success. I'd like to be able to blame pickpockets, but not even the most degenerate wretch on the street would bother lifting my el cheapo.

The tour winds to its conclusion, we return to the ship, I unpack my bag, and there's the camera with an innocent look on its face.

And now the recharger for my original camera tumbles out of the suitcase. And the original camera and its batteries are already packed away in the other suitcase, which has its snaps fastened and a pink strap wrestled closed around it.

I give up. If any irresistible photo op occurs in the 1412.2 nautical miles from here to Ft. Lauderdale, I will run for my tablet and probably miss it . Taking pictures with a tablet, by the way, is a damned awkward procedure. Maybe I will just beg some passerby to shoot whatever it is and give him my email address.