Saturday, December 5: Sailing, Sailing

Of course there was no sunrise to photograph. Although I get up early almost every day – usually around five o’clock; Heinz sleeps until eight thirty or nine – and rush from my suite on Deck 9 to the Pool Deck on 11, I’ve been rewarded with a sunrise only once. At that hour, my only companions are the deck hands washing down the ship with hoses and squeegeeing the water toward the deck drains. My Crocs are very handy then since they’re waterproof and won’t slip on the wet deck. But this morning, there weren’t even any deck hands. It was raining so there was no point in squeegeeing anything. Not wanting to be completely defeated, I tried to find something on the land side of the ship worthy of recording but try as I might, there just wasn’t anything. We’re docked at a part of Rio that isn’t very interesting. Deciding to give up and come to the computer room (where I am now, at 5:30 on Sunday morning – there was no sunrise this morning either), I turned around and saw a huge, white cruise ship just off the seaward side of our ship. It was enormous, and silent, like a ghost vessel, moving slowly as it turned around and then moved sideways to a position just behind our own ship. With its lights ablaze, it made amazing reflections in the water but it was moving and there wasn’t enough light to get photographs that were clear enough to save. Just as I was about to go below for this blog, another ship appeared out of the mist, and then another one. There was enough light now so they didn’t look as ghostly as the first one but each, in turn, maneuvered around in this part of Guanabara Bay and nestled up against our pier. I’m always impressed by their captains’ ability to move such a huge behemoth into such a tight position. But then, it is his job. Just as it is the job of over 400 members of the crew to make moving from place to place in the world a joy for the passengers. Each does his part, from the captain who slides the ship into position to the deckhands who clean the ship each morning. The SS Voyager: a small city, never asleep, always at the service of its passengers. organized tour of the favellas, as the slum communities of Rio are called. If the busses are not
After breakfast, I lobbied the destinations desk to join one of the tours going to the favellas, as Rio’s slums are called. It the busses are not completely filled, I can often get a place but I have to wait until the last minute. The woman who runs all this seems to dislike me, treating me like a peon begging for a favor. (Which I guess I really am.) This morning, however, I ran into Gabriele, who was also waiting, and she asked the lady to put me on her bus. There wasn’t space with Gabriele but I’m sure her influence got me space on another bus.We visited two favellas, communities crammed up against the hilly rocks around the city. I was surprised at how permanent they are, not tar paper and tin shacks as I had expected but substantial buildings of brick and stucco, with streets and alleyways and steps curving around buildings in a warren much like in Morocco. Our guide told us that the first favella we visited, with a population of over 200,000, was run by drug dealers. So long as you respected them, he said, and obeyed their rules – in a quasi-government of its own – you were okay. If you didn’t respect them, you were, quite simply, dead. When I asked him how large the drug organization was, he couldn’t really give me a number but suspected that the one running “our” favella had about 1000 members. He also insisted that we take photographs only of approved vistas; photographs of people were strictly off limits. One avid man took several photographs before this announcement was made and our guide insisted they be deleted. The photographer complied; respect to the drug organization also applied to us. It rained intermittently and by the time we returned to the ship, it was raining steadily. We all got wet running from the customs building on the pier to our ship.
Then, at one o’clock, the ship sailed. Just before sailing, there were several announcements asking for a passenger to contact the desk. I guess he still hadn’t re-boarded. How awful, I thought, to be caught in some jam and not get back to the ship in time for the sailing. I wouldn’t want to be stuck in some favella on my own.
Heinz told me that when he was ready to leave the samba club festivities last night, one woman had not returned to the bus. He was responsible for the whole party and insisted the driver wait but after twenty minutes, the bus had to return to the ship. The woman called the ship – she had become confused and couldn’t seem to find the bus – and was told to take a taxi; the ship would reimburse her. Scary. Heinz had to file a report.
The return to sea was rocky. The storm kicked up waves and the ship began to buck and roll for the first time. I was very tired and went to bed for a nap before resuming my host responsibilities for cocktails at 6:30. There are 40 some Solos on this leg of the cruise and keeping them all happy has become a full-time job. Ellie missed us at cocktails and had to eat dinner alone. She complained bitterly to the reception desk and asked for Elsa’s full name so she could take the matter further up the line. Needless to say, I danced with every woman Solo in the lounge before collapsing into bed at midnight. What a day!
(Getting on line here is very difficult. And very expensive. I’ve wanted to include photographs in this blog – I know it would make my comments more interesting – but the time it takes seems not worth the end result. And I’m always afraid I’ll lose the commentary in my efforts to include a picture. So forgive me. I also don’t really know if you’re enjoying this. I won’t stop; the blog will be my diary of the trip. But knowing that some of you are reading it would be encouraging. Getting to my email is even more time consuming and often unsuccessful so communicating with me that way is not very effective. Just a shout in the comments section of the blog would let me know you’re still there. As I am still here, now sailing northward up the coast of Brazil toward home.) Stay tuned.