Wednesday, December 9: Forteleza

At sunrise this morning, which wasn’t much to see, I met Mary Jane who was walking around the jogging track, my favorite place for early morning photos. I said, “good morning,” as I do with everybody I pass (or who passes me) and she stopped to chat. She’s on her way home to the Los Angeles area from charitable work in Africa with some organization labeled, like so much in our time, by initials: DVD, EKG, HOK, NAACP. She had red hair, square, black glasses and intense black eyes and interrupted me to say that I had an East Coast accent. What followed was an interesting discussion of accents she associates with various parts of the US.
After the desultory sunrise, I came here, to the computer room to post on my blog but after writing my post for the day, I discovered (by trying to sign on) that there was no internet service. Later, signs in the computer room said (and still say) that we are out of satellite range. I have to wonder if the captain is now navigating by the stars. Without the ability to post to my blog, I saved the document on the computer I was using – and anyone, if he were curious, could read it, a risk I felt I had to take – and printed it out just in case I should lose it. (This is also true today; the internet is still down and I will save and print out today’s post as well.)
At about noon, the captain announced on the PA (see?, more initials) system that he would soon make a hard turn to port and that the ship would list. We should all sit down or be careful to hold onto something during the process. I expected this to be a big event but it was nothing, really. We were just slipping into a berth dockside in Forteleza, our last port in Brazil. And the last of our journey in the Atlantic Ocean. After Forteleza, we’ll be in the Caribbean.
Forteleza, now a city of over two million, was founded by the Dutch in 1649 but like so much of the new world, the ground was contested by other countries eager to make footholds. The Portuguese snatched the area away from the Dutch and by the early 1800’s, Forteleza was a prosperous port, exporting cotton to places all over the world. Today, it’s the capital of the state of Ceara and because of its beautiful, broad beaches, the Brazilian government expects it to become an important resort area. I took the shuttle bus from the pier into town and walked through the local market, taking a few photographs and trying, without much success, to find a souvenir or two to take home. I was mostly just pleased to get rid of my remaining reais. To become a tourist destination, Forteleza will have to offer more than soccer T shirts and woven baskets.
The days have been very hot – after all, we are in the tropics – and I felt a little faint and dizzy, a sure sign of dehydration. So, I took an early shuttle back to the ship and guzzled as much water as I could hold. Then, sitting in the very front row of the ship’s theater, I watched (and photographed) an elaborate presentation of traditional dances by a local dance group that came aboard for just this reason. They demonstrated dances by areas in Brazil and when they got to Rio, of course their presentation was all about the samba. The women in the group were dressed in feathers and heels (and not much else) and, at one point in their frantic presentation, one of them came down off the stage and dragged me into the act. All I could do was try to be a good sport and jiggle my feet as much, and as fast, as I could. Could that have been my fifteen minutes – it was more like three – of fame? “Dance host fails at dancing?”
Heinz is still cool but by serious effort on my part to be obsequious, he’s beginning to come around. (Although I’m unaccustomed to slavishness and have never been very good at it, it does work.) And then, at cocktails and dancing before dinner, I learned that Margot (with the T) had put together a group for dinner at Prime 7, the steak house on the ship. As you may remember, I’m not permitted to go to the two gourmet restaurants on the ship without prior permission from Elsa and her boss. This had not been obtained but Margot (with the T) was quite insistent that I join the group and since she’s titanium (as well as rather large), I decided to go. This did not improve my efforts to placate Heinz, who was left alone with all the Solos. I had to make serious apologies later when he said, “Yes, boot you’re supposed to get Elsa’s permission virst before goink there.” Oh well. And then he dismissed the whole episode with, “Vell, it’s none of my affair.” Right, Heinz; it’s not.
After dinner, I was exhausted but had to sit through a magician/comedian act in the theater and prepare to dance later until midnight. I found a seat next to Patrick, from Australia, who likes his wine. He fell asleep during the act and began to snore, irritating the Japanese couple – she of the lifted finger when she dances – sitting in front of us.
Claudine #2 was tired and went to bed. But Claudine #1 came for dancing and Heinz and I alternated between Shirley, who will dance even with blisters on her feet, and Claudine, for the rest of the very long day. Now for three days at sea before we hit Barbados. Stay tuned.