Fall Waning Autumn Moon

NB  internet is slow onboard and expensive.  I’m dispensing with titles and have no capacity to edit photos right now.

Card on the pillow last night: a gentle reminder that the ship’s clocks will be set BACK an hour at 2 am. We’ve sailed west enough now to reenter the Central Time Zone. I have no idea why it was a gentle reminder? Is there a harsh one coming if we don’t comply? Odd.

Each night our cabin steward folds a towel into an animal shape complete with paper eyes. I’m not sure why he does this. I do like the piece of chocolate.

This morning we listened to a briefing on ports and excursions available through Valparaiso, Chile. One I”m looking forward to especially is the Cerro Tololo observatory, one of many in the Andes in Chile.

Today the ocean, rather the Caribbean Sea, has little surface disturbance, gentle ripples as far as the earth’s curvature. A light breeze blows along the deck, a light slight scent of salty water and a warm, not hot temperature makes it a perfect time for sitting in our deck chairs, reading, writing, relaxing. Kate’s knitting, a scarf for me for the cooler parts of our trip.

As we spend more time out here, certain people show up regularly, deck walkers doing a series of laps around the ¼ mile deck. Some walk with sneakers, arms pumping, folks who walk regularly elsewhere, others walk with a grim look as if their doctors have said, “Walk. You have to at leasts walk.” And so they do.

There’s the Australian couple, he in black and she in mauve, who walk at a brisk pace, sometimes doing multiple turns, perhaps 8. An older woman, dressed in a nice blouse, expensive sun glasses, wind pants and sneakers strides along a happy look on her face. A few walk at a pace that could be barely be called moving, strides so slow and deliberate that each movement seems considered.

I do my own walking, too, at a much faster pace than any of these, but early in the day, 6 laps this morning, 8 each day.

I’m writing this sitting on one of our deck chairs, the sound of the ocean laps against the hull, the thrum of the Veendam’s huge engines a constant low-pitched noise. Not a bad way to spend a morning.

Fall Waning Autumn Moon

All day Cuba has been on starboard and our cabin, also starboard, has made it easy to track its presence. In perhaps another 2-3 hours we will round the eastern tip of Cuba, sailing to the west of god forgotten Haiti and not far from Guantanamo. It’s a trifecta. An island so close to our shores made invisible not by stealth technology or magic, but by political decree. A quasi-military detention camp sequestered on a piece of land without sovereignty, a place where we store our most feared enemies, a place made impenetrable by the justly famous legal system for which we claim to fight. A nation so benighted and dismal that its catastrophe is a global scandal faces them both.

All three of these miseries lie well within the US sphere of influence, a doctrine announced by President Monroe, a founder become the nation’s chief executive officer. We claim the right to interfere—think Nicaragua, Guatemala, El Salvador, even Cuba during the Spanish American War, Panama—but not the right to heal. Cuba’s economy could be healed by trade with the US. Guantanamo could be healed by habeas corpus, by the very rule of law we abrogate there. Haiti could be healed by careful and long term support, foreign aid. Remember foreign aid?

I know people who have been to all three, I have not, but the time for action for all three is long past overdue. These are thoughts I had sitting on the deck tonight, watching the lights of Cuba twinkle ashore.

Aside from these solemn and gloomy reflections, perhaps unvacationlike, but there nonetheless, Kate and I had our first formal evening. I put on a blue dress shirt, a silk dragon tie, a navy blazer and gray flannels slacks. Kate made herself up with a deft hand, put on a silk blouse given to her by sister Mary, black pants and pointy shoes. We walked up through the casino, strategically located on the way to the Rotterdam dining room (the other path takes you past a long jewelry store), heading in next to many men wearing tuxedo’s and ladies in formal evening wear. Not my favorite scene, but there you are.

Afterward, we came back to the cabin, changed out of the dress clothes and sat down to read, Kate on the bed and me out on the deck watching Cuba.

One more day at sea then we hit Santa Marta. I’m looking forward to getting off the ship since we’ve been on board since October 16^th and will be again tomorrow. It’s fun, but I want to see something different now.

Fall Waning Autumn Moon

The day has slipped by, Cuba still lies off to starboard, now very visible as we come close to Puerto Perde. We had lunch on the Lido deck, an elaborate cafeteria with many choices ranging from starters to Asian, Italian and meat eater entrees. The Lido is on the famous lounging beach in Venice, but I don’t know the connection between the cafeteria style food and the Lido since I’ve not been there. In Venice we looked at Cathedrals, bridges, the Piazza San Marco, but never made it to the beaches.

I spoke with Benjamin, the travel consultant, who says for $5 we can get a ride into downtown Santa Marta’s colonial district and, of course, its renaissance style cathedral.

Anyone who has toured Europe has probably seen more cathedrals than necessary, but, who knows? Maybe this is the one with the can’t miss interior. Could happen, right?

Having the only walk around deck right outside our room has made staying on my exercise regimen easy, though I’ve yet to start doing my tai chi. Maybe later today.

We have come 400 nautical miles from Port Everglades now, traveling around 18 knots on a course of 115 degrees, ese.

Our next three stops Santa Marta, Colombia, San Blas Islands and Fuerte Amador, Panama, on the Pacific side of the Panama Canal, now show up on the map projected on our flat screen TV. It gives us our current position, shows maps at various close ups, our course, our speed, distance to the next port and current winds complete with the Beaufort scale. I love this because I like knowing where I am and how fast we’re going.

On each journey I take maps. This time I have a continental map of South America and a map of Patagonia as a whole plus a map of the Chilean fjords. On these maps I’ll mark the day and time we visited the place, perhaps with a note. I have these maps for several places we’ve been and when we go back I find them very helpful. They are also a cartographic diary of our travels.