QM2 had already passed Sydney head when I made my way on deck and was making its way ever so slowly into Sydney Harbor proper. The first thing that struck me was the majestic cliffs demarking the geographic chiaroscuro of land/sea. The scene reminded me of England's White Cliffs of Dover except Dover doesn't impress with magnificent mansions and palatial homes standing proudly upon its plateau.

What was most impressive, however, was the nautical welcome received by Queen Mary 2. Sydney harbor was awash in private vessels, yachts, ferry boats, fishing boats, catamarans, cigarette boats, tugs, water taxis, and even brave kayakers bobbing amidst the exuberant flotilla like human seagulls. Australian flags and naval ensigns blew in the morning breeze. As far as the eye could see: boats.

The seaborne flotilla was joined by at least five helicopters hovering overhead capturing this amazing scene for posterity. As impressive as was the visual banquet displayed before us, the accompanying sounds were equally amazing. It was still early enough for the city's cacophony to be subdued, allowing us therefore to bask in the intrinsic sounds of sailors and boats. Horns and whistles on board the smaller vessels blew repeatedly in hopes of coaxing QM2 to respond with her deep bass acknowledgement. When she did, cheers and delight arose from the water's surface. Aussies shouted out welcome and we could even hear the clinking of champagne glasses from the party boats.

My arm became tired from waving to the throngs gathered on the various vessels and quays, so naturally we ducked inside to chow down on breakfast. The feast continued nonstop even as our time on board ship counted down to its final moments, and passengers were - as usual - making the most of the available calories.

Queen Mary 2 is so massive that docking at the Overseas Passenger Terminal at Sydney's Circular Quay was out-of-the-question; besides, that was where Queen Elizabeth 2 was slated to dock later in the day. So, QM2 made for the Royal Australian Naval Base located on an adjoining but equally convenient spit of land. The really exciting aspect therein was the use of Aussie sailors to help dock QM2. Finally, my long lost memory of Cunard crew adorned in traditional sailor garb manning the docks was realized.

The scene on the docks was even more formal than normal due to the fact that Queen Mary 2 was undergoing a change of captains here in Sydney. Captain Rynd was disembarking to be replaced by Commodore Warner, and even though Cunard is a for-profit corporation with no real national connection, the Royal Australian Navy pulled out all the stops to make this ceremony worthy of its traditional naval significance.

It was a spectacular morning in terms of weather with a cool breeze canceling out the ubiquitous sunshine of this summer day. This stood in stark contrast to the cold, blustery weather that had greeted our departure from San Francisco just two weeks ago, but which now felt more like two years ago.

Departure day for any cruise is usually demise into individual fears and concerns. Illogical thought occurs of the cruise line somehow wanting to keep passengers from disembarking. Plus, the comprehension of the logistical difficulty of disembarking 2,000 people in one morning on a single dock vanishes from common sense, accompanied by grumbling, complaints, and unwarranted indignation. These realities, combined with the Australian paranoia towards product quarantine, did give me an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach as Jan and I made our way to the Royal Court Theatre to await the call to disembark.

Remarkably, this disembarkation proved to be one of the smoothest we had ever experienced on any of our cruise vacations. Chalk it up to the British penchant for organization, presumably. We waited no more than twenty minutes before having our color/number summoned, and was actually kept apprised of the current state of disembarkation by a courteous crew member.

Arriving on the dock, a requisitioned Royal Australian Navy pier, the aforementioned Cunard logistical marvel quickly disintegrated. The first step in getting ashore was in identifying and gathering ones baggage. That meant the same elderly passengers who had clogged QM2 corridors with walkers, wheelchairs, scooters, and canes, but who were now at least twenty pounds heavier, were expected to quickly identify and gather baggage and somehow carry these modern version of traditional steamer trunks. Porters were far and few between and passenger tempers quickly flared.

Jan and I managed to retrieve bags fairly quickly and, by a combination of gymnastic moves and track hurdling, we made our way to the Australian Customs queue. The only snag occurred when we tried to find the DHL section where we were going to drop off a bag for shipment directly to the USA. The Cunard representative I encountered on the dock told me to walk through a couple of tents looking for "Barbie." She would help me.

At last a dream I've had my entire life suddenly faced the prospect of consummation. Barbie, apparently, was real! So, off I went looking for an anatomically incorrect blonde woman who, despite a vacuous expression, possessed omniscience with regards to shipping bags via DHL back to the USA.

Barbie was nowhere to be seen. So, I asked a female version of "Ken" if she knew anything about DHL. I had never seen a more blank expression in my life. Meanwhile, I spotted what appeared to be a collection of suitcases sporting paperwork similar to that on our own DHL bag and suggested that might be the repository I was seeking. "Ken" assured me that wasn't the case, and then assumed a yoga-like visage, as if she was seeking divine intervention and enlightenment. I left "Ken" in this state of suspended animation, and resumed my hunt for Barbie.

Amazingly, I spied what appeared to be a miniature version of Barbie darting around assisting passengers. It was impressive to once again see someone whose name matched their appearance. I called out her name and, after briefly considering whether that was indeed her name, she turned my way. My question regarding the DHL drop-off point was immediately answered; lo and behold it was the collection of luggage sporting DHL tags, the same collection "Ken" had assured me was something else.

DHL bag jettisoned, Jan and I were free to make our way through Australian Customs and set off to find the bus that would take us to the Four Seasons Hotel. Here we would enjoy a final two-day stay in Sydney before Jan returned to Pittsburgh and I headed off to Adelaide for three weeks of meeting, greeting, and teaching at ETC-Australia.

Our Journey to the Southern Cross had come to an end. It had been, though, a journey worthy of being remembered for a lifetime. The anthropomorphic wand had indeed turned the behemoth cruise liner QM2 into a true 'Queen' of the ocean. This ship had indeed come alive to us. It had become a breathing, working, caring, yet untiring Pegasus of the seas. We loyal subjects had basked in her majestic glory for two solid weeks. In so doing we had established a bond with this ship that would remain forever.

As those of us who had boarded Queen Mary 2 in Southampton, Fort Lauderdale, or San Francisco commenced disembarkation, we saw on the other side of the quay busses drive up with a fresh allowance of eager, excited passengers. As with the sea itself, a new wave was undulating towards shore, bringing with it a whole new complement of souls eagerly awaiting transformation. And, as is usually the case when in the presence of royalty, they would no doubt become loyal subjects of Her Majesty Queen Mary 2.