At Home Again: A Wrap-up

The destination that attracted me to this particular cruise was the transit of the Panama Canal but I found the actual experience anti-climactic, perhaps expecting too much or having read too much about the Canal from "The Path Between the Seas." The process of raising and lowering the ship through the locks was certainly interesting but I had been through locks before and there's nothing very mysterious about those mechanics. I was impressed,of course, by how tight the clearance is and by the electric locomotives that steady the ship as she passes through on what I was surprised to learn was her own steam. But more exciting was passing through the cut in the Continental Divide, the string of mountains that extends from Alaska to the south of Chile and realizing that men, using fairly primitive machines, cut through that immense mountain, moving all that dirt and rock aside, shovel-full by shovel-full (even if some of it was by steam shovel). Now that was really impressive!

I've traveled with Silver Sea before so the routine of daily life on the ship, and the luxuries that involves, was no surprise, but I was impressed even more than usual by the intimacy of the staff who grew to know us, and know our names, and seem to like us, very quickly. I learned at almost the end of the trip that Silver Sea takes a photograph of each guest and posts these in crew quarters so the crew can quickly identify us - depending on their memory (and whether we were memorable or not, and I like to believe that we were) - and the ship presents an award at the end of the cruise to the crew member who can remember the most names. Still, their friendliness and courtesy was outstanding.

As the cruise progressed, I was surprised to realize that I had chosen a cruise that I knew would go to so many hot places in the world when I also knew that I don't like it that hot (even though some do). But the ports were all interesting and we had a day at sea between almost every stop, which made it possible to recover from the burden of heat. I was sorry to have burned my legs so badly that I couldn't enjoy the sun, or the pool, but shade is not a bad thing at my age. And my legs are now slowly recovering.

I found the guests on this cruise friendly enough - almost anyone would speak to me if I spoke to them first - but as always happens when strangers are thrown together, they are much more likely to be open at the beginning than they are when the relationships begin to set and one becomes more reluctant to ask a stranger's name (or has forgotten it). Despite this, there wasn't anyone on the cruise interesting enough to me (nor, I'm sure, I to them) that I would want to pursue as a relationship. Oh, I have a few e-mail addresses and will send a few photographs to people who've requested them but by Christmas time, I'm sure I'll wonder who they are.

Now that I'm home, friends ask me the usual question: "What did you like best about the trip?" I always consider this a kind of shorthand for, "tell me something about the trip but not too much, please," and after all, they're interested, but only up to a point. It would be awfully easy to become boring. Usually my answer concerns some place I found fascinating or memorable. But this time, my most honest answer to what I found best about the trip was traveling with Ted and Bill, both lovely men who included me in their intimacy, left me alone with my solitude, and helped me up from the chaise on deck when I needed it. I loved sharing the experience with both of them.

I'll continue this blog when inspiration hits. I hope you haven't been bored by

Staying tuned.

Monday, April 25: Fort Lauderdale to Baltimore

As usual, I got up early, to take photographs of the sunrise. I wasn't about to let the end of my trip interrupt my routine. As it turned out, the sunrise was spectacular, rising up on the starboard side as the coast of Florida, marked by many twinkling lights, appeared on the port side. As the light blossomed, other ships and the outlines of buildings on the coast emerged from the dark. It was all very pretty and an almost spiritual experience, lifting my mood from the day before from the gloom of ending into the dawn of new beginning.

I met the boys for our last breakfast, where we got the royal treatment from Fritz and Harlan and Henry and Joselitto. They seemed genuinely sad to see us go. Or maybe that's only the professional in them. I'm sure they'll be just as happy with the new guests as they were with the old.

Getting off the ship seemed endless but was handled, as usual, with great efficiency, guides pointing us in all the right directions - "orange bags over here!" - and sheparding us into buses and on to the airport. Ted ran into Chanel (Muriel) and just to add to her mystery, when he hugged her, her blouse ran up and he could see tattoos around her waist. Our flights were on time and although crowded, they were routine. David met my plane and we went immediately to dinner at the City Cafe. Despite all the gourmet, Relais & Chateaux experience on the cruise, the Baltimore crab cake was delicious.

A wrap up follows.

Stay tuned

Sunday, April 24: At Sea

There's something about the last day at sea that's a little sad and poignant. You realize that the artificial world you've been enjoying and largely taken for granted for the period of the cruise is coming to an end. The places you've been, the friends you've made and especially in this case, the luxury you've enjoyed, will soon be behind you and you'll be going back to who you were, where you were, when you were. I find all that a little depressing. It's somewhat like the end of a day at the beach in summer, when the heat begins to fade and the sand grows cooler beneath your feet. Anticipation melts away. Reality returns. I find this especially true when I have to drag out the bags and pack up - although I must admit that I like packing at the end of a trip better than at the beginning; there are no decisions to make about what to include and I can just throw the shirts in any old way, not oh-so-carefully wrapped in plastic grocery bags a la Martha Stewart. The few souvenirs I bought on the trip fit easily into my carry-on bag and that bottle of Ketel One, given to me by Princess and Romeo when I came aboard and which remained unopened, fit very nicely, wrapped in old underwear, into that pocket in my bag between the two metal supports to the rollers on the bottom. I packed early in the day - to get it out of the way - and spent the rest of the day on deck, taking head shots of people I wanted to remember. It was Easter Sunday and we had a very special buffet lunch in the dining room, complete with anything you could possibly want to eat, arranged around a giant chocolate bunny rabbit. Romeo gave me a certificate for passing through the Panama Canal and Myra gave us all a diploma for graduating from her bar. I cashed in our collected points - we had enough for two Silver Sea hats, an alarm clock and a book mark (all with the Silver Sea logo). We said our goodbyes to our new friends - mostly the staff - and went to bed, our color-coded luggage whisked away by the porters, to reappear in the terminal the next day.

I was sorry to wake up in the night feeling pebbles in my bed. Closer examination revealed that the objects weren't pebbles at all but beads from a bracelet I bought (along with many others like it) in Turkey some years ago and distributed to the residents at my mother's then nursing home. When Mom died, I found the bracelet in a drawer and on impulse, put it on. I've worn it ever since. The elastic-like plastic thread that held it all together had finally given up and broken; I'm surprised it lasted this long. Still, I was sorry to see it go, like my mom, and my trip, into the past. I collected all the beads and when I got home (which I am now) restrung them on a wire I can keep with other mementoes - oh sentimental me - of my mother.

Stay tuned.

Saturday, April 23: At Sea

I promised myself before I left home, particularly since this may be my last Silver Sea cruise, that I would have no "shoulds" on this trip. I would do (and eat and drink) anything I wanted. And so it isn't surprising that my belt, after struggling so hard to stay in the same hole that the hole, dogeared and torn, has enlarged and given up holding me in, and moved to a new hole (which is three holes from where it was when I bought the belt in Africa some years ago). No surprise: margaritas, wine carbonara, roast beef, chocolate, ice cream. And all for lunch! What did I expect? There are far too many mirrors on this ship to remind me that a really strict diet - going back to many "shoulds" and "should nots" - will be necessary once I get home.

Since the rawness of my legs prevents me from sitting in the sun (or even wearing shorts or going in the pool) I have to amuse myself on deck by taking head shots of the many guests I will remember for their characteristic look or mannerisms: the manic horse lady with the flamingo clips; the walker-man who pauses every few steps: Elizabeth, the Alzheimer's sufferer in her sadly sagging pink bathing suit; the woman with enormouos breasts and badhair; Chanel of the face lift and balloon-y lips; Jorge, always smiling; Judi, cruising around in her colorful suits and impossible-to-be-natural hair; Sir Francis, always with a smile and always ready to bring me a bloody mary. I like to take these pictures secretly, for people are far more natural when they don't know they're on camera, but I've been caught a few times and one woman I didn't know from Switzerland asked me what "on earth" I was doing. "Just getting local color," I said, as I slunk guiltily away.

We won enough points at Bingo to enlarge our total so we can earn two baseball caps with the Silver Sea logo. And big surprise: I won the Silver Sea quiz again. It was all about science, not usually my strongest suit. "What is the science of diseases of the brain? Of plants? Of animals?" The one I missed was the science of the history and development of language. The answer is 'philology. ' You'd think I'd remember that!

On our last formal night we were invited, by fancy printed invitation no less, to join the hotel manager for dinner but at the last minute he was "unavailble." In his place were the guest chef, who was far more interesting (even if he did spill the chou all over his demonstration table) and the beautician in the spa. Maike, from a farm in Namibia, an odd place in the world where I have actually been. She was shy and hard to engage. Sauteed fois gras with fig jam, pumpkin ravioli with walnut oil, Beef Wellington and of course, a chocolate/chocolate dessert. And back in our suites we each had an Easter basket filled with goodies and a towel bunny. What a finale!

Our last day aboard and my summary of the cruise will be sent from my computer at home, where it doesn't cost me 45 cents a minute.

Stay tuned.

Friday, April 22: Cartegena, Colombia

After mostly calm seas, I woke up this morning with the ship tossing and turning, its motion exaggerated by the position of my suite, which is far forward in the bow of the ship. I fought my way into the bathroom and took my morning pills in preparation to go topside, as usual, to photograh the sunrise, good, but not unusual.

At breakfast, I learned from Bill and Ted who knocked lightly on my suite door before going to the midnight show that it consisted solely of two drag queens, doing their number for the crew. Matthew looked more like a woman, they said, but the other guy, a wait staff manageer on deck, was a better performer. I guess I didn't miss much.

Cartegena, founded in 1533 and now a city of a little over one million, was once the major accummulation point for gold and silver and emeralds from all over the Americas destined for shipment to Spain. This made the city a natural target for pirates, hence the construction of its trademark walls and fortresses. In 1741 the city endured a large scale attack by a combined force of British and American troops led by Admiral Edward Vernon, who arrived with a massive fleet of 186 ships and 23,600 men against only six Spanish ships and 6,000 men. The seige was only broken at the start of the rainy season, after weeks of intense fighting. Heavy British casuaties were compounded by diseases such as yellow fever. The victory prolonged Spain's control of Caribbean waters which helped secure its large Empire until the 19th Century. Admiral Vernon was accomanied by Lawrence Washington, George's brother, who was so impressed by the admiral that he named his estate, Mount Vernon, in honor of the admiral.

I chose a land tour called "Panorama Cargegena," which I visualized as one catering to photographers. We went first to La Popa monastery located on the tallest hill - more a small mountain - where there were spectacular views of both the old and new cities. We also visited the fortress of San Felipe, named for King Philip of Spain. And we saw the San Pedro Claver church, its altar spectacular in gold leaf which, if you've traveled at all in Latin America, you know only the Spanish can accomplish.

The day was clear and the sites very photogenic but the day was very hot and I was relieved to finally escape back to the air conditioning on board. After lunch, I finally got to play a few hands of Bridge, with strangers from a variety of places in the world. The deck of cards they used, with artificially large numbers and little difference between the black and red suits confused me so that I bid hearts when I meant spades. My career with the Bridge playing group was not successful. We went down four, not a good beginning. I met Bill and Ted for Bingo where we added to our cache of points. We'd like to win three hats but at 90 points each - 270 points in all - that seems unlikely (we now have 167).

I won the Silver Quiz again today, naming the one word that can proceed three seemingly unrelated other words: "corn, peas, and tooth," for instance. The answer is "sweet." The hardest one was "heat, lie, and paper." I'll let you struggle with that one. (The answer is "white.")

At the bar, Ted had his usual - can you believe he's drinking? - not a cosmo at all but a Myra, which is made from 2 oz. of mandarin vodka, 1/2 oz. of Chambord, 2 oz. of fresh lemon juice and 1/2 oz of Mr. and Mrs. T's sweet and sour mix - named for its creator, Myra, from the Philippines. Oh. And shaken, not stirred.

Only two more days aboard, we are beginning to think about re-entry into the real world where we have to make our own beds, mix our own drinks and cook our own pasta carbonara. But one of the nicest things about vacations is returning to our real world, somewhat like putting on a worn but comfortable pair of shoes.

We've been invited at last by Gianni, the hotel manager, to our last formal dinner. John has promised his wife, Avi, to me for at least one last dance. She bought a very large rough emerald yesterday and is eager to wear it to a rumba, just to make the Latin environment complete. (And as a reminder of that other life I led on a Regent cruise in Caribbean waters just a couple of years ago.)

Since I am running out of time, bought at elaborate expense on this computer, I probably won't post again until I get home. Still, I hope you'll

stay tuned.

Thursday, April 21: Anchored for the San Blas Islands, Panama

This archipelego of more than 365 islands (one for each day of the year!) - most of them uninhabited - lies just off the Pnamanian coast in the Caribbean. The islands are governed by an internal group of Kuna Indians who have lived here since well before the Spanish Conquest, preserving their culture and language. We anchored among the islands and took a tender to a slab on concrete protruding into the water from a mass of densely packed thatched huts. We were immediately surrounded by little indian kids each holding up a watercolor drawing, obviously made by the kid, who offered them to us for "one dollah," the lingua franca of the Kuna where you can take a photograph of anyone but only for that one dollah price. While many of the men work on the mainland, the women line the narrow dirt paths wearing costumes with intricate designs called molas, fabrics with intricate stitching and appliques based on local themes, geometric patterns and stylized fora and fauna. Addtional molas, for sale, are hung on the fences everywhere in dizzying array and can cost from $5.00 to over $100.00 depending on the size and quality. Often a woman was accompanied by a very young child, many with a small green parrot on his/her head - or a small puppy or kitten or even a rabbit, anything to entice you to take their picture (for one dollah). I got a great shot of an old woman, dressed in her intricate designs, bead bracelets around her arms and legs, a tattoo (or at least a painted line) down her nose and smoking a pipe. One dollah, which disappeared immediately into the intricacy of her outfit. The sellers didn't seem very interested in serious negotiation even when Ted offered to buy 30 molas at $4.00 each instead of the asked-for price of $5.00 for one. After walking down most of the streets - it took maybe an hour - I grew extremely hot and weary and took the tender back o the ship where there were many indians, mostly children, in hollowed out canoes bobbing around near the ship, apparently waiting for a can of soft drink to be thrown down to them. (We've been warned not to do this. It could lead to serious injury to the kid.) Shortly after I returned to the ship, the Rotterdam, a Holland America ship, joined us at anchor. Imagining all those many more people in the small village made me happy I had gone ashore earlier.

After Ted and Bill returned we had carbonara outside at La Terrazza, in our favorite spot, with Harland and Fritz and Henry all vying to carry our plates. What a grand way to live!

The sun was blistering hot and since my legs are still raw and swollen, I tried, at the Bridge instructor's daily urging, to join a Bridge game. However this crowd has gotten to be a clique-ish lot, not welcoming to newcomers. Oh well, I guess it's more fun to play with those you already know.

We weighed anchor at 4 PM and sailed immediately for Cartegena where we will be tomorrow - leaving the Rotterdam, on a world tour, and the Kuna and their molas behind.

I had enjoyed the lecture on Puccini so much that I went to another opera lecture, this time on Mozart. Although I don't normally associate Mozart with opera, our lecturer considers "The Magic Flute" one of Mozart's greatest works, which like the composer himself contains elements from the bawdy to the sublime.

After great anticipation and the best of intentions (paving the road, as usual), in the end I missed the crew's show. After dinner, I needed a short nap and Bill and Ted agreed to knock on my door at 11:30 for the midnight show. I didn't wake up from that nap until 2:00 AM. I guess I needed the rest.

Tomorrow: Cartegena.

Stay tuned.

Wednesday, April 20: Panama Canal Transit

By the time I got up to deck 9 (topside) at about 5:30 AM, the rail positions at the bow of the ship were already claimed by those more eager to see the Panama Canal than they have been to see the sunrise. I elbowed into a comfortable spot where I counted more than two dozen ships in the morning twilight - can there be twilight in the morning?- seeming to wait, all pointed in the same direction, toward what we all presumed was an opening on the horizon to the Panama Canal. Panama City, just coming to life, twinkled off to the right, like some ghost city rising up out of the sea. By 6:30 the sun was up, the pilot boat had transferred our pilot for the canal and we progressed immediately behind a huge container ship toward the Miraflores Locks at the Pacific end of the canal. From running commentary on deck, I learned that rates for travel thorugh the canal are determined by gross tonnage and the value of the cargo. Our charge was about $150,000. I guess human cargo is more valuable that TV sets or refrigerators. As we passed through the first locks we were photographed by a web cam on the administration building. Bill called his office in Baltimore and told his staff how to find us, live, on the internet. I waved my white baseball cap madly so they could identify us. Isn't technology grand? (According to Stephen King, a worm inserted into a cellular telephone transmission program will turn all those who answer their phone into slaves. Sometimes I think we already are.)

The process of raising our ship 80 feet up to the level of the lake that forms most of the Panama Canal transit was very interesting. Moving into a narrow bin, locks closing us in and water rising to lift the ship, procedures in reverse when, later in the day, we were gently lowered into the Caribbean. The cargo ship, called a Pan-Max, for it is the widest a ship can be to squeeze into the locks, with literally only inches of clearance, preceeded us alongside, and our friendly sister cruise ship, The Europa, followed behind. I later leared that many of the ships that seemed to be waiting were really anchored here in Panama, waiting for cargo (for there is a huge cargo port at each end of the canal and a railroad that runs between them.)

We settled on Deck 8 by the pool in a spot I've found to be the coolest on deck, a funnel-like space where the wind blows across the pool andinto the shuffleboard court. Bill introduced himself to last night's entertainer, Aaron Shaw, to ask him if he knew Rachael, Bill's niece, a professional in opera. And he did, saying, "So you're Rachel Gilmore's uncle!" Bill realizes to his chagrin that now, with Rachael's success, he may be forever known as "Rachael Gilmore's uncle."

It's now even hotter than it has been and by early afternoon, I had to escape nside. Susan, of the Bridge instructor team, had urged me to join her accolytes for a hand or two but I preferred to lie down in my suite and cool off. I can't imagine actually living in this climate! I lost the Silver Quiz to Bonnie, the needlepoint guest - today was all cryptograms and Bill and Ted and I struggled for hours without getting the answer to No. 12, which was "circles beneath the eyes" - but I beat her at Bingo. Collectively, our little group of three now has 145 points but we're aiming for a total of 200 so each of us can have a Silver Sea baseball cap.

Before we met in the bar at our usual time (7:15) where Myra now automatically prepares a Grey Goose martini straight up, a Cosmo and a margarita, I went to the late afternoon opera lecture, this time on Puccini who wrote, the lecturer contends, the last of the popular, lyrical operas as entertainement, after which serious vocal music gave way to the hardness of Stravinsky and Benjamin Britton. Scottish, with a distinct burr in his delivery, the lecturer is both informative and very funny, punctuating his remarks with video clips of famous arias, one of which still unfortunatly continues to run in my head.

After wading our was through the heavy dinner - we've all gained weight, which at least I can ill-afford - we enjoyed the rather informal evening show where the singers, including Judie (who, yes, was on the QE2 when Dennis and I returned from Europe on the ship in 1983) belted out popular melodies from Cole Porter that now compete in my head with Puccini. At the beginning of the show, Judie, whom the ship troupe all call "Mum," announced a new engagement they were all celebrating, between Todd and and his partner, Matthew. As Todd, who calls our Bingo games would say, "How lovely. Well done!"

And yes; in response to a comment below, we did exit the Panama Canal, repeating the procedure followed at the beginning; a series of two locks, lowering us down gently to the Caribbean. More on this later.

As I said earlier, when I return home, I will edit all these entries for errors in spelling and grammar and add photographs in an effort to make this blog more complete and interesting. In the intermin, have patience with me and

Stay tuned