Cruise diary - Part I

Thursday:
I can't help but notice all the senior citizens on the ship. That is, people just a few years older than me. Many of them are hungry or, at least, they like to walk away from buffet spreads with large plates of hot food -- at 2:00, for a late lunch.
Two hours later, just before the ship is scheduled to sail, a P.A. announcement informs us that "a very serious medical situation" will delay our departure until an ambulance arrives. We also learn that a nor'easter will cause us to cruise towards Bermuda tomorrow in 12-foot waves. Passengers are encouraged to take their medication. Oh, joy!

My feet are moving, while I'm sitting still.
My clothes are moving, while hanging in a closet.
And the seas are still calm.

Cruise ships are a great place to be if you want to escape American workers. So far, we've met crew members from South Africa, Serbia, Belarus, Wales, the Philippines, Guyana, Jamaica, India, Nicaragua, Dominica, and Romania, but not one American. Come to think of it, it's just like being in the U.S.

Friday:
"It feels like I'm in a funhouse."
Those were among my wife's first words this morning. Not just because she was having a good time, but because she felt us swaying as we were laying still in bed.
Ever try showering in a fun house?
Among the other first words we heard were a reminder over the P.A. that seas would be rough today. An accented English voice advised us to exercise caution when walking around the ship and using the stairs. I sense most people on the ship need to all the time, even in still waters. But, thanks, captain.

I often tell my sons I want to be like them when I grow up. They are, after all, young men any father would be very proud of. It may not be possible, though -- I already had my chance at youth, took my best shot it, and have no regrets. But, I could've done more if I was the person my sons are!
After (re-)reading The Old Man and The Sea by Ernest Hemingway on the ship today, I now have a Plan B. I can be like Santiago, the book's protagonist -- an old, strong, crafty, resourceful, proud Cuban man. I think my sons and wife would settle for that.

After dinner, my wife and I returned briefly to the room and, to our surprise, there was a rabbit on our bed.

Different kinds of people were dancing at the night clubs on the ship: young, old...and very old. One elderly gentleman held his lady closely, shuffling slowly. She seemed to love it until, apparently exhausted, he walked her to their table. That left just a few other couples on the dance floor, and many more others wishing they were.

Saturday:
The first words on the radio, after the alarm sounds, are the last words from Don McLean's American Pie: "This will be the day that I die." Her eyes just opening, my wife declares, "That's not very encouraging."

The guide for our Bermuda catamaran excursion said his ancestors arrived on the island in 1630--just 21 years after the first settlers. At least, I think that's what I heard -- his voice had competition from the snores of a paying customer. The port where the catamaran and cruise ship docked featured an interesting mix of tourists and locals who just completed a 26-mile "End-to-End" bicycle race.

Among the interesting people on the ship are a couple with full heads of longish, albeit discolored hair, one of whom was wearing a Woodstock reunion t-shirt. I could almost picture them on Yasgur's Farm 44 years ago.

As the sun shone on the deck, a four-piece band entertained passengers lounging, wading, hot tubbing, many drinking tropical favorites, with a wide assortment of Caribbean covers, including reggae classics. Snuck in their set were Cat Stevens' "Wild World" and a song reminiscent of "Angel of the Morning." Then the sun hid behind the clouds and the wind kicked in, dropping the temperature 15-20 degrees. People escaped inside, but not a waiter balancing a bottle of rum on his head for the benefit of die-hard dancers.

Sunday:
At the table next to me during breakfast, a big man with a big scowl and loud New York City outer borough accent was going off on immigrants. He was spewing the usual venom, topping it off with, "I'm glad I'm not going to be around when my grandchildren are." Some people just relax more than others on vacation. I wonder what he sounds like after a day of work. I'm also curious what his immigrant ancestors would think of him. After he waddled away, I learned that a small part of India is a former Portuguese colony. A waiter from India with the name "Rodrigues" told me that.

While walking in from an outside deck, a middle-age man was startled as he bumped into an automatic door that started to close. Three young teenage girls walking by him broke out in loud laughter. I'm glad to bring so much joy to the world!

Blazing on a sunny afternoon, a partly sunny afternoon, in springtime . Waiters walk by every couple of minutes, offering the day's colorful rum special, or taking orders for other drinks. A live band plays Caribbean music, including a reggae cover of the Smokey Robinson '80s hit with the lyrics, "I love it when we're cruising together." A middle-age couple dances in a swimming pool. A young American slaps the butt of his red-headed female companion in a bikini. A stocky European man in a tight Speedo carries his 1-year-old son into a hot tub, his fit wife in a bikini behind him.
How decadent!

For the first time since boarding four days ago, it's a starry night. Well below, to the southeast, lightning illuminates a cloud every 20-30 seconds, like a fireworks show.

Monday:
Birds are finally visible, escorting us to St. Maarten. Either that, or they're looking for breakfast. We're still 3-4 hours away from land, and the birds rarely venture into the water for a fresh catch.

Orient Bay Beach on the Atlantic Ocean in Saint-Martin is magnificent. Clear blue warm waters and white sand, blue skies with just a touch of harmless white haze. Fresh grouper and rice and salad for lunch, a couple of rum punches, and it feels like nap time. And yes, in this half-French, half-Dutch island, some women joined men for a topless stroll on the beach. With no evidence of a Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue photo shoot taking place, it was about the only part of the afternoon scenery that wasn't particularly pretty.

Our St. Maarten tour guide was an English lady who retired with her husband to the island 11 years ago. A grandmother now, she visits her sons in London and New York three times a year. She said she works part-time to support her partying life style. Life is good!

Tuesday:
"Puerto Rico, my heart's desire..."
(West Side Story)
And the closest thing in the free world to the land of my ancestors, Cuba.
To be continued.