Spring Moon of the Southern Cross
25 degrees 38 minutes S 45 degrees 6 minutes W course 038 NNE
The winds continue to howl out of the northeast, 47 mph now and 9 on the Beaufort Scale. White caps and spindrift. The Veendam shakes in the wind and shudders when it hits a trough. The overall feel is one of stability, made possible by the stabilizers and a heading almost directly into the wind.
The end of a cruise has a particular atmosphere, organized, ritualized. Good-byes are said to crew and new friends. Packing happens, then the suitcases disappear. Debarking times come color coded and numbered. The bill, just like a motel or a hotel, can stay on the credit card so express check out is the norm.
In Rio we go down the gangway and have our key cards scanned for the last time. After that we cannot return to the ship.
It’s a little like the end of a year at college. People have come together from disparate places to share a common activity, but at the end of that activity, the semester, the cruise, any linkages made get broken when transportation for home comes. Minds turn away from the common life shared and begin to refocus on lives, children, homes, jobs, the usual.
Jerry and Marsha, our table partners since Ft. Lauderdale, have been splendid dinner companions each night for a month. An unusual experience, to find two folks interested in similar things and able to keep the conversational ball in play. We’ll stay in touch.
There is, of course, still Rio. We’ll see the statue of Christ the Redeemer, go up Sugarloaf in cable cars and see a performance of Carnival music and costumes. Walk on Ipanema beach. Enjoy the street life in the neighborhood around Ipanema.
We gave up Thanksgiving this year for this trip. It will be a travel day. Next year I hope we can Thanksgiving at Lutsen with our close family all in attendance.

Spring Moon of the Southern Cross

South of Sao Paulo 26 degrees 29 minutes S 45 degrees 47 minutes W Course 038 nne

Since we left the Rio de la Plata estuary after Montevideo, the seas have been high with winds ranging from 51 mph to 39 mph, Beaufort 11 to Beaufort 8. My episode of sea-sickness vanished over night and I once again have my sea-ears. The pitch requires sea legs, too, and those sometimes find me rolling when I should stand and standing when I should roll, but that’s fun. Sea-sick, not so much so.

The bags stand stuffed with clothes we brought, gifts and clothes we’ve purchased. We’re ready, almost, for debarking. Toiletries and tomorrow’s clothes, our Kindles, the computer, passports and all they await final packing in the morning.

We see Brazilian customs and immigration aboard ship before leave. Brazil is one of the BRIC countries, the rising future hegemons and now has some swagger. I’m glad the world stage has begun to fill with other countries vying for prominence and power. It will be interesting to see how Brazil handles its new role from the inside.

Speaking of the BRIC nations. Did the Confucian Peace Prize surprise anyone else? I haven’t googled it because internet minutes here are expensive, so I don’t know how official it was, but Vladimir Putin? A peace prize? Like awarding one to GW or a neo-con.

He got it, according to the news piece I read, for his 1999 stand against Chechnya, showing Russians he would defend them. Is this the new world order? Dictators and strongmen get the nod from others of their ilk? God, I hope not.

The final meal aboard tonight. In days gone by we used to get the parade of a flaming baked Alaska, the finishing flourish to many, if not most cruises. Now we get dancing and singing waters, waving napkins and introducing dishes with a song. Very odd.

Why not baked alaska? A fire hazard, apparently. Wonder who figured that one out?

Spring Moon of the Southern Cross

South of Rio, North of Montevideo rough seas

Wrote the above yesterday looking out the lanai windows. Watching the deck go up and down. Big mistake. So, I spent yesterday in bed recovering from an indelicate moment of sightseeing.

Last night we had winds that I observed at 51 mph or 9 on the Beaufort Scale. These were the strongest winds we encountered on the whole trip. The Pacific was just that.

I’m in the showroom right now awaiting the disembarkation talk. Getting on and off cruise ships is a logistical feat of some proportions and requires co-ordination.

Kate, with her superior spatial skills, has already begun packing. She doesn’t like it, but sees it as her job. It’s fine with me. I’m delegated to attend this briefing and take notes.

The mood, buoyed by up beat light rock, has a festive spirit. Oh, boy, we’re getting off! Less than half of us have been on since New York. The tech guy has carried the obligatory laptop out and placed it on the clear plastic lectern. The showroom lights are a glitter.

We’re getting off last since we are an independent disembarkation, taking a taxi to the Tulip Plaza hotel in the Ipanema beach neighborhood of Rio. We’ll spend two nights there before getting on a plane at 10:20 pm Rio time, headed for Atlanta, then home.

I’m ready to get home, perhaps a bit more than Kate, but we both miss the dogs and our digs, especially, at this point, the space.

That’s done. We’ve been given the info and the opportunity to clap for all the staff teams. Now we can get about arranging items for our departure.

Last night the Captain declared the health protocols lifted, so we have one full day with salt and pepper on the table and the option to select our own food at the Lido cafeteria. Our table mate Jerry wondered if lifting the protocols had anything to do with clearance for our ship in Rio. Maybe so.