Although I must have missed any formal declaration of it, today was obviously the National Day of Decorating the House. At least it was in our neighborhood, and everywhere I drove this evening people were busy decorating their homes. Not every place, of course, but enough to make me think it's more than a coincidence, it's a conspiracy.

So I jumped in with my humble decorations: feeble battery powered candles from Taiwan are now shining dimly in all the windows and tomorrow we'll hang a wreath, a real one not plastic or battery powered, on the front door. (Memo to self: on trip to get wreath also load up on AA batteries.) We'll probably get a tree (also real) to decorate the back porch. That's it.

Others in our neighborhood are much more ambitious, with lighted trees and garland wreaths and pine rope spreading their holiday cheer. It's a pleasant custom that always brightens up some of these gray fall days.

Well, not always pleasant. The house across the street has a white wire reindeer and a white wire polar bear, both lighted, in the front yard. Oh, and both of their heads turn slowly from side to side. Perhaps it's a new take on the Biblical "lion shall lie down down the lamb" prediction. Or, more likely, perhaps they were on sale at CVS. The word we use down here is "tacky".

The other decoration, if that's the right term, is the string of lighted icicles which hang down from the eaves of the house. Lighted icicles? Please. This is coastal North Carolina. If you want icicles hanging from the home, move to Buffalo.

But calm down here, Scrooge. Whatever your spiritual disposition this time of year, a little color and light in the neighborhood are good things, and we can all feel refreshed and energized by the new scenery. Even the tacky stuff.

DAY ONE: THE CRUISE BEGINS -- Which actually began last evening, when son Jeff drove us to an airport motel in Raleigh, a pretty essential part of the trip since it began with stumbling aboad a Delta flight at 6:00 this morning. We aren’t terribly enthusiastic about doing anything that begins in a Terminal, yet despite all our misgivings it couldn’t have been a smoother trip: no lost baggage, no missed connections, no crying babies next to us, no bad weather, easy hookup with our transfer to the ship, no surprises.

Well, almost none. As we were jumping through the hoops at our ticketing check-in at RDU it was discovered that Ann’s driver’s license (her required photo ID) had expired, but after a short spurt in blood pressure we produced a passport which solved that problem. It was only a couple of hours later that we were walking onto the m.s. Ryndam before noon, (just in time for lunch!) and spent the rest of the day getting settled into our cabin, exploring the new home, and learning the cruise-ship style of life.

Our fellow travelers seem, at first glance, to be a nice bunch of folks, about as varied a group as you can imagine except, well, they’re almost all well-fed white folks and almost all old, older, at least, than us. (A friend reported that going on a cruise made you feel younger and thinner. She was right!) Since we’re pretty well-fed ourselves and we always get senior citizen discounts without asking for them, we should feel right at home.

At any rate, we’ve spent the rest of this day tied up to Pier 92 at the LA Cruise Terminal (there’s that word again), and it wasn’t until about 9:00 pm (a.k.a. 2100) that without any ceremony the lines were cast off and we eased our way into the San Pedro Channel and silently, almost stealthily, headed south and on our way.

We stood at the railing for the first ten or fifteen minutes, watching as we slipped by the huge and brightly lighted Port of Los Angeles. Scores of giant container cranes, flashing red lights on top, stood along the piers looking for all the world like giant metallic praying mantises. Then suddenly, as though a switch had been thrown, it was pitch dark and we were sailing in the Pacific Ocean.

It’s been a long day, and we fell asleep easily and quickly.

DAY TWO: SETTLING IN -- We awoke to the pitter-patter of feet and shadows flashing past our cabin window, and discovered that living on the Promenade Deck means we hear and see all the early morning walkers (no jogging, please) circle past our window four times to make a mile. Our window glass is fortunately tinted so we can see out but they can’t see in, hence have a handy and steady stream of entertainment.

We were at sea all day today, sailing south into Mexican waters far offshore Baja California. Occasionally we spy another ship, miles away from us, every now and then a pod of dolphin or other fishes surfaces, and once I actually heard myself saying, “Look, a sea gull!” A sea gull? For crying out loud, those things are usually a nuisance to be avoided rather than an object of attention. Funny how perspectives change.

We stopped by for a presentation billed as the “Port and Shopping Talk”, thinking we might pick up some tips on the cities we were going to be visiting. Instead, we got a fast-talking “shopping ambassador” tell us where we could get real values on diamonds and other jewels, Rolex watches and other trinkets. This is, apparently, a big deal on cruise ships, as I discovered as soon as we slinked out of the salespitch.

The on board shops and hallways were filled with people looking at diamond bracelets, emerald necklaces, and $2,200 fifths (excuse me, liters) of cognac. Where did I go wrong? I must have missed the Conspicuous Consumption lecture. But it apparently lights some people’s fire.

We did some more exploring of the ship, and then settled down in deck chairs with a book and sketch pad to enjoy a sunny day. Actually, a hurricane (“Paul”) lurks just south of us, but we’re hoping to cross its path well behind it as we get closer to Cabo San Lucas.

I need to say something about the dining arrangements. There are four restaurants, from the casual pool side grill to the ever-formal Pinnacle Room, and we’re free to eat wherever and whenever we want, with one exception. The Rotterdam Room is a large, elegant space with servers equipped to anticipate your dining whims, and there dinner is served at an appointed hour and table. (Breakfast and lunch you can sit anywhere.) We are at the late seating, which they call the Main Seating, but when it’s at 7:45 we call it late!

After dinner we enjoy a nightly show, which this evening was a talented guy who regaled us with music of the ‘50s, Sinatra, Elvis, etc. He knows his audience. But it was a lot of fun to end a quiet sailing day.

DAY THREE: OUR SOCIAL LIFE? -- Another day at sea, coasting slowly south along (but out of sight of) Baja California. These two days have been good for us, affording an opportunity to explore the ship and settle into its routine. But first of all, let’s dispose of Tropical Storm “Paul”, which petered out (pun intended) just below Cabo San Lucas, and won’t be a factor in our trip. Close call!

Two events today deserve special mention. One is the Captain’s Reception and Dinner, wherein everyone, all 1,200 us, dons their grandest duds, stands in painfully long lines to be photographed two separate times, then has the privilege of approaching the Ship’s Master for a brief (very brief) welcome greeting, another smiling photo op with said Captain, then firmly ushered away and into a champagne reception. I was tempted to tell him his fly was open, just to test if he was really listening, but lost my nerve.

The Captain has already made it clear, in an earlier announcement, that he would not be shaking hands with everyone. Germs, you know. (I wanted to tell him that for many a year I shook several hundred hands every Sunday morning, but once again lost my nerve.) In his welcoming comments at the reception he went into a painfully detailed set of instructions on how we are to wash our hands, not unlike the lessons we gave to children in the St. James Day School. It was kind of embarrassing, but in his defense it must also be noted that this ship, on its last voyage, was hit by some sort of GI bug, and many, both guests and staff, became briefly but uncomfortably sick.

At any rate, folks really do dress up for this event, and (as the invitation said) tuxedos were “welcome”. I seem to have left my tux at home, but never fear - they rent them on board! Well, I wore my ordinary gray Sunday suit but, in a moment of rebellion, no socks. Tuxedos of all styles and colors abounded however, many replete with lapel military medals (memo to self: get Good Conduct Medal out of storage), and one fine Scotsman wore his kilt. The ladies, whose plumage always outshines ours, were stunning and beautiful. So it was a glorious evening, apparently continuing one of the grand old traditions of the sea.

The other thing I wanted to mention is the incredible variety of activities that go on aboard a cruise ship. I guess I knew there were some, but never did I suspect such a menu: a seminar on Detox For Weight Loss, Dice Gaming lesson, Watch Seminar (I assume that’s a wristwatch sales seminar), champagne art auction, bridge tournament, Tanzanite Seminar, AA meeting, Slot Machine tournament, Magic Makeover session, Blackjack tournament, and the usual religious services, various games, talks on shore excursions, special group luncheons, and many more. And that’s just today’s list.

I suppose a person might get bored here if they didn’t like any of the above, and wasn’t interested in sitting in comfy deck chairs to read, watch dolphin, or snooze, and didn’t need anything to eat at one of the restaurants that’s always open, and didn’t want to play any of the machines or tables in the Casino. I suppose there might be such a person, but I’d not want to have them at our dinner table!

DAY FOUR: A CHANGE IN PLANS - Nor was this a boring day, either, for the word of the day was “flexibility”. The original plan was for the ship to anchor off Cabo San Lucas, about a quarter of a mile from the pier, and then the ship’s tenders (a.k.a. lifeboats) were to ferry folks back and forth to land. The problem (or one of the problems) is that the seas are a bit too choppy to make a safe movement between ship and tender, so plans for going ashore were immediately scrapped.

Plan B was to up anchor and have an improvised leisurely cruise for a half an hour
or so along the tip of Baja California, past some truly beautiful rock formations and several new resort communities, and then heading southeast across the mouth of the Gulf of California toward our next stop, Puerto Vallarta. It was pleasant and relaxing to sit on deck and watch the passing scene, at least it was after we dealt with another problem.

In the meantime, we had some problems ourselves. Ann has had, from time to time over the past several months, recurring incidents of pretty severe pain in her upper arm, between shoulder and elbow, and no one seems to get a handle on it to treat it. When she awoke this morning that pain was back with a vengeance, so our first stop of the day was to the ship’s doctor. He poked and prodded, gave her some medications and advice, but the bottom line for us is that it was a good day to just meander across the waves.

That’s just what we’ve done!

DAY FIVE: IN PUERTO VALLARTA -- We finally got a day off the ship, and spent it wandering around the Mexican city of Puerto Vallarta. It’s main claim to fame, apparently, is that it was the scene of the 60s movie, “Night of the Iguana”, with it’s attendant media circus involving the then-scandulous love affair of Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor, pretty tame stuff by today’s standards.

We engaged a bus tour of the city, including a couple of interesting stops. One
was at “the birthplace of San Tequila”, alleged to have been the bartender at the Last Supper, and where all who wanted one got a taste of freshly made tequila. The other stop was a tile factory where we picked up a few gifts for folks who are looking after things for us back home, as well as a Christmas tree ornament for ourselves. It’s an interesting town, with lots of variety, and we enjoyed the day’s excursion.

A couple of observations about this first shore visit in old Mexico. The gringo culture (white wetbacks, our guide called its purveyors) is pretty strong: our first sight upon leaving the ship was a WalMart SuperCenter, and everywhere were the usual franchises, everything from Office Depot to Blockbuster to Jiffy Lube, and including a very conspicuous Hooters. (Incidentally, I later got a wonderful picture from the deck of our ship of the Wally World with a large pirate ship docked in front of it; it was more symbolism than I could have manufactured!)

And talk about symbolism: we parked the tour bus across the street from a beautiful Catholic church in the historic downtown section of Puerto Vallarta. I went inside to look around, then retreated across the street and sat on a bench until our bus returned. While waiting there, I noticed that many people, old and young, men and women, blessed themselves with the sign of the cross as they passed in front of the church, even across the street from it. Maybe it was superstition, maybe it was mindless habit, maybe anything, but it was an impressive display by people who knew there was something special about that place, people who knew there was something/someone greater than they were.

The main industry in Puerto Vallarta is tourism, almost entirely North American
tourism, so the cultural assimilation isn’t surprising once you think about it, but it does come as quite a shock. All this we observed the day after Bush signed into law the border fence which so many of us find offensive as well as ineffectual. I can’t help but wonder what the Mexicans here think about it, if indeed they think about it at all. I’ve obviously got my familiar “gringo guilt”.

There’s such a gulf between our worlds, and it was demonstrated with wonderful
clarity on the tour today. Our very competent guide was telling us about life in his country, and made the point that in Mexico the minimum wage is the equivalent of USD$5.00 A lady in our group piped up that in the US it’s $6.00 (or whatever). He patiently explained that here in Mexico it is $5.00 a DAY.

On the home front, I need to report that Ann’s arm and shoulder pain is really no better, although it seems to be controlled for short periods of time with medication.
Otherwise it’s really bad stuff. She reports that on a 1-10 continuum (from “nuisance” to “more than labor”) she often scores a 9. Not much to do about it here on the ship, apparently, other than to give it topical and symptomatic relief, and enjoy
the pain-free periods.

DAY SIX: HOUSEKEEPING AT SEA -- Another day spent entirely at sea as we cruised down Mexico’s west coast (the “Mexican Riviera”), but first of all lets deal with the medical report. When Ann saw the ship’s doctor the other day he told her to come back if it didn’t get any better. It didn’t so she did. His suspicion now is that a nerve
root is probably getting squeezed between some bone pieces higher up on her spine
than her previous herniations, causing pain to radiate down her arm. To deal with it he gave her a steroid shot which seems to have had the desired effect. It’s a temporary remedy, of course, but that’s just what’s needed until we get back home.

One of the problems we’ve had with our stateroom and nearby cabins since Day One is the absence, or very minimal presence, of air conditioning. Everyone on the ship has been very sympathetic, but no A/C. One of the stewards gave us a fan which was a nice gesture but little real help, and as the ship moved farther and farther south what was at first a nuisance has become an uncomfortable problem.

So today the very accomodating people of Holland American found us a recently vacated stateroom, helped us move into it, and things are vastly improved. It’s cool! And as a plus it’s much larger, being a handicapped access room, so we’re in really good shape with our lodgings now.

Those two activities, getting the shot and moving the cabin, pretty much occupied
our day, but we also found plenty of time to sit on the deck and watch the waves and the sun as we sail on towards Huatulco. Since it's Saturday I thought I’d catch some college football on the room’s TV set, but the only sports are, as son Jerry might affirm, real football, a.k.a. soccer. ESPN Deportes had broadcast the World Series, with Spanish graphics and announcers, but no US football. Perhaps we’ll have better luck with NFL football tomorrow.

DAY SEVEN: NEW AND OLD MEXICO, HUATULCO -- Our last stop in Mexico (last, that is, until we head home and move up the east coast) was at the interesting city of Huatulco. It’s an old town, for several hundred years a small, remote fishing village in the poor and sparsely populated state of Oaxaca, until it all began to change about 15 years ago.

It was then that the Mexican government made a conscious decision to develop the area in an environmentally sensitive manner. Only 40% of the Bay of Huatulco will
be permitted to develop, and even that is under strict supervision. Called Tangolunda, all of this is a Mexico that we’ve never seen anywhere else on this side of the border: wide and well paved, tree lined streets with equally wide sidewalks, street
lights with buried wires, attractive shops, no high-rise hotels, the works.

All very nice, except that it looked more like Naples, Florida or our Landfall resort in Wilmington rather than Mexico. The Mexicans who worked there all lived in the old town, La Crucecito, where we spent over an hour wandering through shops and stores on this lovely Sunday afternoon.

We first went to the local church for a few moments, packed wall to wall with citizens of Huatulco who made us feel right at home: a young girl stood up and offered her seat to Ann, we joined in with our Anglo version of the Lord’s Prayer, and then we shared the Peace with folks all around us. A nice experience, even if we didn’t understand a word of what was being said!

Funny but true story: later, as we wandered around the town square exploring shops and markets, I spied a pharmacy where I could get some prescription strength Naprocin for Ann’s pain. She also wants to work on her scrapbook, but needs some glue to do that, and tried very hard to communicate what she needed to the clerk, who asked Ann to draw a picture of what she wanted.

The clerk took one look at whatever it was that Ann had sketched, smiled and said, “Oh, si!”, and she returned with a large package of condoms! We’ll never know what the clerk saw in that Rorschach sketch!

Being a Sunday, the square and adjoining streets were filled with families in their
Sunday finest, and it didn’t feel like the usual tourist stop. We particularly enjoyed the music that filled the air, and took a picture of a family playing “Celito Lindo” over and over on a home made marimba.

Soon it was time to go, and with some reluctance we boarded our bus to take us
back to the ship for an early afternoon departure. From here to our next stop, Puerto Quetzal in Guatemala, we’ll be sailing through the Bay of Tehuantepec, a place notorious for high winds and rough seas. The ocean lived up to its reputation, so we quietly read in the library for the rest of the afternoon.

Dinner tonight was a special treat as the regular dining room crew was joined by the ships singers and dancers in a gala presentation of the meal! The entertainment
made up for the fact that our evening meal is served beginning at 7:45, an hour or more later than our back-home eating schedule. All in all, a festive ending to a delightful day.

DAY 8 (10/30) -- Sometime during the night both wind and waves calmed down so
that when we woke this morning we could watch the ship tie up to the pier in Puerto Quetzal, Guatemala. The elaborate choreography of arriving and departing is a fascinating process, and both of us enjoy being railbirds as we watch it unfold.
This port has a history very much like that of Huatulco in that for many years it was a quiet fishing village, then about 15 years ago the Guatemalan government thought it would be a good idea to establish a commercial port, and today it’s very busy with both bulk and container shipping.

But there was no place to dock cruise ships, so the government did the necessary
dredging and pier work, and now several cruise ships a week stop here. I suspect,
based totally on a hunch, that it also serves as an alternative to Acapulco where so many cruise ships tie up there isn’t room for one more. But whatever the reason, Puerto Quetzal and Guatemala now welcome cruise ships.

Now that the port’s all set up, another problem has surfaced. When a cruise ship
calls here, with several thousand passengers anxious to explore the countryside,
there’s nothing for them to do. Not even a tourist trap!

So the system now is for the ship to be met by busses to whisk the visitor away to whatever excursion has caught their fancy. In our case, it was riding a comfortable bus inland to the ancient city of Antigua, established in 1543. Once the capital of Guatemala, Antigua is now a city of some 25,000 people who live in colorful houses located on cobblestone streets.

It’s a beautiful city, nestled on the shore with mountains and volcanoes surrounding it. One of the problems is that the three major volcanoes are still active and ready to explode, but obviously no one’s sure when. Earthquakes are another problem, but our Guatemalan guide said not to worry, they haven’t had one for several seeks. Small comfort that was. "Manyana" carried to the extreme. I tried to invoke some laws of probability, and again lost my nerve!

Our first several stops were to visit, coincidentally, several 16th century churches,
one of which had been almost totally destroyed by an earthquake. Only a shell remains. I stepped inside and offered a quick prayer to the Earthquake god or anyone else who might be listening. More than any other natural disaster, earthquakes terrify
me.

One of the less pleasant parts of this visit is having to deal with scores, hundreds,
of men, women and children trying to sell us jade bracelets and necklaces or flutes of every register or shawls or towels or aprons or just stuff. They just wouldn’t take “no” for an answer, and while the little kids were cute for a while, they became a constant nuisance. I guess it comes with the territory.

After a delightful lunch we went to a nearby coffee farm to learn more about their
product, and picked up some gifts to take home with us. We got back to the ship
about 6:00 after a long but fascinating day in this old city, and began to make
preparations to leave for Costa Rica.

DAY 9: TRICK OR TREAT! -- It’s Halloween, and the ship is keeping the tradition alive
with balloons and cardboard witches everywhere, but the scariest thing we saw all day was the towel animal on our bed! I had it in mind before we left to bring my “World’s Oldest Hippy” cap and Ann’s scraggly black wig, but neither made the final cut into our luggage. So we’ll just have to show up for dinner tonight without a costume.

Today’s been another “at sea” day as we continue our generally southward course
passing El Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua before pulling in to Puerto Caldera, Costa Rica early tomorrow morning. Since we’re about 70 miles off the coast we’ll be well out of sight of those countries.

So it’s a good day to do nothing without the first pang of guilt! Back home there
are always things that had to be done, people we had to call, plans to be planned, and so forth, and the idea of taking a whole day to do absolutely nothing is pretty scary. Even retired, there’s always something that needs to be done, but not here.

So we’ll sit on the deck chairs to watch the ocean move by us, reading until it’s
time to take a nap, strolling around the promenade deck, and in fact, I don’t even have to do these notes, and tomorrow will be much more interesting, so I’ll quit for now.

DAY 10: LOVELY COSTA RICA -- I think I’m in love! With Costa Rica. What’s not to love about this place:
+over 25% of the land has been set aside as protected areas
+the biodiveresity is awesome, with over a half million different species, +they have no army or military force of any kind,
+they’ve had a national health care program for 50 years,
+public education goes through high school, and generous loans are available to students wishing to attend college,
+the rates for unemployment, literacy, and infant mortality are inconsequential,
+there are only two seasons, wet and dry,
+it is almost entirely a non-smoking place,
+and the average life span here is 75 years.
No wonder they named it Rich Coast!

We spent most of the morning driving around the western mountains, and took a two hour eco-cruise in a mangrove river loaded with exotic birds and sleepy crocodiles, and never did make it to San Jose, the capital.

As in Puerto Quetzal, the cruise ship dock and the commercial port have been sited pretty far from civilization, so tourists like us who wish to explore the country
have to be bused to wherever they want to go. This is counterintuitive, and I bet that before too long the law of supply and demand will click in and tourist services will be built in Puerto Caldera.

Which reminds me of one of my pet peeves, and I’d best get it off my chest. Whenever we get on one of those tourist buses, the guide will eventually ask if anyone has questions, which opens the floodgates to tacky questions about money. How much does this house cost? How much does that house cost? How much do cars cost here? How much is gasoline? How much, how much, how much. I suppose it is, on some level, an interesting and appropriate question, but simply translating the answer into US dollars and US culture is at best a patronizing and impossible task.

There. I feel better already.

But Ann doesn’t. She’s had some tummy problems for a few days, and on the spur of the moment dropped in to the on-board Medical Center, where they put her under house arrest. No, not really, but they might as well have. She’s not to leave
her stateroom for 24 hours, and she’s to take all the yummy-tummy medications they
gave her I’m not sure how all that’s to be enforced, but we hope it will make her feel better.

The Ryndam will be pulling up the gangplank and getting out of here in a few hours, headed on south for the Golfo Dulce (“beautiful gulf”?) and the Panama Canal, all while we’re eating and sleeping.

DAY 11: SLOW CRUISING -- Actually, we’ve learned that Golfo Dulce means “freshwater gulf”, as many large rivers empty their water into it. But I like my definition better; it really is beautiful, and we’ll spend the morning slowly cruising its borders here in southwestern Costa Rica before heading on to our rendezvous with the Panama Canal.

And yea! Ann was released from her quarantine via a phone call this morning from a medical-type person. We finally convinced them that she was really not sick, just dealing with an upset stomach. At any rate, we’ve gotten the “All Clear” to resume normal activities, and took a turn on the promenade to celebrate. (Although we didn't know it at the time, Holland America kindly refunded us $300 for lying low that one day.)

We enjoy walking around this ship, but one of the things we keep doing is getting lost. Even though there are maps strategically placed on the walls (er, bulkheads), and even though we’ve been given and use handy pocket guides, we still have difficulty getting from point A to point B. It’s like living in a new housing development in which all the homes look alike, and it points out how much we need landmarks
to get us where we want to go.

That’s not the only source of disorientation. We also have a hard time remembering just what day of the week it is; all the days are alike on this ship! Again, all the usual “markers” are gone, and we’re reduced to the “if-this-is-Huatulco-it-must-be-Thursday” sort of calendar. Actually there is a clever hint provided by Holland American, for the floor mat on each of the eight elevators has the day of the week printed in large letters (see picture above; you may recognize the cane!). They think of everything!

Anyway, we’re at sea all day today, slowly headed towards our early morning check-in spot for the canal,
one of the highlights of the voyage. We’re ready!

DAY 12: TRANSITING THE CANAL -- It’s been a long day, a full day, and to do it justice I need to recapitulate (in a nutshell) what’s been going on.

We left a wake-up call for 5:30 so we could be out on the deck by 6:00 as the ship
arrived in Panama Bay and made its way into the Canal. It was a slow process, sometimes painfully slow, but I guess the brakes on this ship don’t work too well and it’s necessary to creep. Especially when there are dozens of other big ships around us.

Fortunately for our stomachs and nerves, coffee, juice and sweet rolls were served
on the deck, so we didn’t have to miss anything just to eat breakfast. We finally
entered the first (of three) locks, and began the slow process of being floated
up 85 feet, whereupon we eased out of the locks and entered the eight mile long
Gaillard Cut. We actually sailed over the Continental Divide, a landmark we’ve
driven across dozens of times; this was a first!

There's an interesting contrast here in the process of going through the Canal, the contrast between high tech and low tech. As you might imagine, this place is full of high tech electronics and hydraulics and other such wizardry, but it's also a place with its share of low tech: when the lines are delivered from the walls of the locks to the transiting ship, they are carried out by two men in a rowboat! That's the way they did that in 1914, when the Canal opened, and it still works today.

It was also moving to go through the tiered walls of the Gaillard Cut, a narrow and deep channel where so many lost their lives in the process of building the Canal. No one here seems to make very much of the complicated history of the Canal's construction, so it was helpful to have read David McCullough's "Path Beteen the Seas" to learn more about that. We did, however, have a very knowledgeable guide who described our passage over the ship's PA system.

By this time (close to 11:00) we were hot, tired, and hungry, so we headed up to
one of the casual dining rooms to take care of all three problems. Then a quick
nap in the cabin and back on deck to watch the process in reverse: locked down to
the Atlantic sea level and into the Caribbean Sea, on our way to Cartegna, Columbia.

We had a thought or two about going to the Catholic mass which was being held this afternoon, but it just didn’t fit our nap schedule. We haven’t been to any of the
church services aboard ship, the other alternative being a Baptist service, hence the Catholic mass looked inviting. Instead, we checked out the Robin Williams movie, “RV”, had another delicious dinner and were sacked out by 10:00.

Today has, for both of us, been the high point among many high points, the culmination of something we’ve talked about for years. We even, at one time, considered driving the motorhome down here, but now we’re glad we waited to do it this way.

Dreams do come true.

DAY 13: HOT TIME IN COLUMBIA -- Nothing like a good night’s sleep, a couple of decent meals, and a day in South America to perk up the spirits!

We traveled first to the top of the highest hill and visited an old convent, now a museum, with spectacular views of the city, both Old Town and new. From there we went to the old slave market (yes, they traded in African slaves), then climbed up the high fortress (picture above), loaded with a web of narrow tunnels that all looked alike! All this was surrounded by a well-preserved stone wall, sometimes 50 feet thick, that surrounds the Old Town.

On this very hot day we’ve wandered through forts and cathedrals and markets in Cartegna, Columbia, and have come to one conclusion: they make the best iced coffee in the world right here! Just about the time we were running out of steam and were ready to go back to the ship, we parked ourselves in a little shop and got a couple of iced coffees that were blessedly delicious. The coffee capital, for us, has been Guatemala, but this was a matter of the perfect caffeine solution at the right time.

South America, or at least this small part of it, does seem somehow different than
our experiences in Central America. While we certainly haven’t done anything more
than dip our toes in those worlds, it truly does feel less hectic and more manana-oriented here in Columbia. The traffic is manic everywhere, but here they actually stop to let pedestrians have the right of way. The street vendors, having spotted a
couple of gringos, actually leave us after one “no, gracias”. Shop owners are much
more gracious and patient as we try to make decisions. It just feels more comfortable.

Or have we changed and become more relaxed touristas?

A third possibility is that we’re ready to go home. Yesterday’s excursion through
the Canal was, in many ways, the highlight of the trip. We know, of course, that
we have two more stops to make, two places where we’ll explore Mayan ruins, and
that we also have another five days to cruise through the beautiful Caribbean Sea,
but even so all that seems almost anticlimactic to the Panama Canal transit. So
maybe we’re winding down.

DAY 14 & 15: TWO DAYS AT SEA -- Well, today certainly did nothing to upset the possibility of alternative #3. Although its been beautiful outside, the wind and seas have been higher than any other time during the cruise, and during the night we were doing a lot of rocking & rolling. We're none the worse for wear, however.

Since it’s Sunday we had the best of intentions of going to one of the worship services this morning. There are two clergy aboard, a Southern Baptist and a Roman Catholic, so we thought we’d go to the Catholic mass. It was held in the theater to accommodate a large crowd, but the PA system either wasn’t working or wasn’t being used, so we eased our way out rather quickly

I had introduced myself to the Catholic priest, who encouraged me to apply to Holland American for a cruise, and I did a rather good job of not laughing out loud! No, I don’t think so. For lots of reasons, the primary one being that I’m retired, as in, not being ‘up front” any more. But it was nice of him to suggest it.

The rest of the day was total relaxation: eating, reading, eating, napping, eating...you get the idea! There just aren’t many situations in life any more that allow for that kind of luxury. There are no chores I ought to do around the house, no phone calls I ought to make, nothing but nothing all day long. It’s a new experience
for us both, one we’re coming to enjoy more and more.

Actually, there is one chore which has to be done, here or at home: laundry They have a half dozen or so washing and drying machines here on the ship, and they always seem to be ministered to by Laundry Matrons who appear to be perfectly content to spend hours monitoring the place with loud voiced authority and instantly supplying advice and/or directions.

I had to do our final load and thought that if I got there fairly early in the morning I could be in and out before they knew I had been there. No such luck. I got there about 6:30 and they were well underway. That’s like 6:30 in the tropical morning! I wanted to suggest they get a life, but maybe this IS their life, so I maintained discrete silence and got my chore done with a minimum of hassle.

We’re pretty much “out of the loop” as far as news is concerned, but we do receive
CNN International on our room TV, which is filled with news of Saddam Hussein’s
conviction and sentence. Hardly a surprise, and also hardly a surprise that our Decider-in-Chief took credit for it, which somehow makes the world freer from terrorists. The upcoming elections are also a hot topic; we cast our ballots before we left home.

I should mention, on the subject of television, that we also get ESPN Deportes here, which means we see a ton of soccer games, an occasional NBA game, and Monday Night Football. So we aren’t completely isolated.

DAY 16: THE MAYAN WORLD -- Another day in port, this time visiting the small country and city of Belize, where I was particularly anxious to experience the Mayan ruins there. The harbor is too shallow for our ship to dock, so we are met by small (50 or so passengers) tenders that ferry us back and forth.

Being in Belize (that might be a good song title!) was different from all the other
stops we’ve made on this trip. For one thing it’s a smaller city than all the others, for another we had to be tendered in, but most importantly is the fact that the country was originally a Crown colony known as the British Honduras, hence English is the common language.

It’s amazing what a difference that makes to my comfort level, being able to talk
to people and to read the signs. Having to communicate in Spanish (or, for that matter, in any unfamiliar language) is an exhausting and often frustrating experience,
and I kept thinking about all the Hispanic guys working on the homes back in Wilmington, finding myself to some degree in their shoes.

Ann’s shoulder and arm were hurting pretty badly this morning, so she opted to
stay with the ship to do some reading, some sketching, and treat herself to a pedicure. That turned out to be a wise decision, for we had a one hour bus ride, at breakneck speed, over a single lane, potholed street which tested the endurance of everyone, let alone someone nursing a bad back.

I was looking forward to visiting the ruins of Altun Ha, a tremendously impressive
site which housed 8,000 to 10,000 inhabitants 200 years before the birth of Christ, and I certainly wasn't disappointed. Over 500 structures are still evident, and was an important link in the coastal trade routes. It was in many ways a well-developed, wealthy, sophisticated culture which created engineering feats far more complex than anything else in existence at the time.

To stand in the middle of one of the two ceremonial yards or plazas, surrounded
by stone “bleachers” rising over 100 feet, it didn’t take much imagination to conjure
up thousands of townspeople gathered in that plaza for some ceremonial purpose.
Our guide did make clear that it was not a ball field or park, but scholars differ as to its primary purpose. Many of the structures were tombs, others were for purposes
we’re still not certain, but it was obviously “home” to many generations of people, and it gave me cold chills to reflect on all this.

I’m sorry Ann missed all this, but since we have a similar stop tomorrow in Costa
Maya she may get that opportunity, and perhaps her pain won’t be quite as debilitating as it was today. A day of painting and pedicure, she reports, is good for what ails a body!

DAY 17: COSTA MAYA -- On second, third and fourth thoughts, we decided to forego today's planned shore excursion to the Mayan ruins. It wasn't all that high on Ann'’s agenda, and I really didn't have a lot of enthusiasm to take another hot bus ride back into the country. It was one more steamy day, and we're both obviously running close to empty on the energy scale.

We decided instead to stay on the ship and explore the town of Costa Maya on our
own. This is our last port on the cruise, and we thought it would be fun to see what this Mexican village had to offer, and the clear blue Caribbean water looked inviting.

What a monumental surprise awaited us.

We had puzzled over the fact that Costa Maya was not to be found on the map of
any atlas we had, and the reason for that was simple: it did not exist just two years ago! The cruise ship companies, apparently looking for an alternative to Cozumel, built this "resort"” completely from scratch. It consists, right now, of a concrete pier extending far into the Caribbean, and a collection of small shops clustered around a crowded swimming pool. No one goes to the beach or the water. That's it. Costa Maya is a non-town!

We found out later that within a year or so they expect to host four or five cruise
ships every day, each of them pouring thousands of shoppers into the "“town"”. A
Carnival ship, with nearly 4,000 passengers, was already tied up when we arrived, so together we put a lot of credit cards loose!

I know I'’ve commented on this before, but this shopping phenomenon is still an
amazing one. Here on our relatively small ship we have several jewelry and gemstone
shops, and on every dock there are always more. They do a steady business, too. Shoppingis a big deal, a huge deal, on these cruise ships.

Since it isn't such a deal for us, we made a quick run-through of the Costa Maya shops then returned to the ship and spent most of the remainder of the day reading, happily watching the election returns, doing e-mail, sketching, napping, and (our old favorite) eating! But no shopping!

DAY 18: THE LAST MILE -- All good things must end, and we’re rapidly approaching that point here on the Ryndam. Packing has begun, accounts are being settled, books
returned to the library, but we still have a few more meals to go! This company (Holland American) has an interesting solution to the question of tipping: they add $10 per person per day to your bill, and that's the tip for all the crew. It seemed like a lot when I first read it, but when you analyze it it's reasonable. A whole lot of people wait on us, and having to tip them all individually would be a mess, so this seems fair.

We’ll spend this whole day crossing the Gulf of Mexico, docking early tomorrow morning in Tampa, where we’ll disembark and shuttle to the airport for a flight home. (As it turned out, that part was a cinch: we breezed through customs without slowing down, and our flight from Tampa to Raleigh was right on time. All the details of this trip have worked out perfectly, which may set some sort of record!)

It’s been fun, but we’re ready to let go of the cruise ship life and get back into
the familiar routine of Wilmington and Holly Glen! Nineteen days of this has proven to be a bit much, and while it's been interesting it's also been, well, boring. Rather like a horse race: two minutes of excitement followed by 30 minutes of waiting! Also, if we ever do undertake a cruise, it will be on a smaller, less elegant ship.

So we say an earnest goodbye to the Ryndam, to Mexico and Central America, the Panama Canal, and all the sites we've visited and people we've met along the way. We're ready for Home Sweet Home! (pictured above)