Back Home Again

Dear Diane and I were away from home for about ten days, visiting friends in Bradenton, Florida and then sailing off on a brief, five-day cruise in the Western Caribbean. The weather was perfect, and we enjoyed our two port visits to Grand Cayman Island and Cozumel, Mexico. Our ship, the Carnival Paradise, was, despite its name, most un-Eden-like. The 2,500 or so passengers were of the younger, party-hearty persuasion so I spent much of my time searching for quiet, out of the way spots to sit and read while sipping one of those oddly named, umbrella garnished drinks. The food was reasonably good, good enough at least to satisfy my humble tastes.

Carnaval Paradise at anchor in Grand Cayman

We had visited Grand Cayman a few years ago so we decided to spend just a few hours in George Town window shopping and strolling along the waterfront. After a lovely lunch at a local restaurant, we returned to the ship and simply relaxed.

Diane - Grand Cayman

That's when I caught sight of a yacht owned by Microsoft co-founder Paul Allen. The Tatoosh is nearly 300 feet long and comes equipped with just about everything, including its own helicopter. It reportedly cost Allen $160 million, but remarkably is not the largest of his yachts. Another, the Octopus, at 414 feet long is truly a mega-yacht. Octopus is the world's largest privately owned yacht and cost Allen $200 million back in 2003. It has a crew of 60 and sports two helicopters, one forward and one aft. And to think I spent several minutes in one Grand Cayman shop questioning whether I should buy one T-shirt or two. Apparently even Allen believes his two mega-yachts are one too many since he's put Tatoosh up for sale. If you're in the market, check out the details here.

Paul Allen's Tatoosh at anchor in Grand Cayman

I don't envy Paul Allen his wealth, but I do worry about where his salvation falls among his priorities. I suspect it would be very difficult to sail the Octopus, or even the Tatoosh, through the eye of a needle.


For me the highlight of the trip was a visit to the Mayan ruins at Coba on the Yucatan peninsula. Getting there involved a half-hour ferry ride from Cozumel to the mainland, and then an hour long bus ride to the ruins. Luis, our guide, is of Mayan descent and was able to provide interesting commentary along the way. After our arrival at the site, Luis led us on a one-mile forced march along a dirt road through the jungle. For someone who couldn't be over five feet tall, Luis could certainly walk fast.

Mayan Pyramid at Coba -- after my climb

The central edifice among the ruins is the great pyramid, reputed to be the site of human sacrifices of a truly horrific nature that involved heart removal and decapitation. We were told the Coba pyramid is the only Mayan pyramid visitors are still permitted to climb. Naturally I had to make the ascent. It wasn't as easy as it looks since it's quite steep and the steps are high, narrow and slippery, offering this aging body and its size-12 feet a definite challenge. The descent was actually scarier than the climb, but I was accompanied by a young Italian boy named Giacomo with whom I practiced my limited Italian. Like me, Giacomo was a bit anxious and so he and I encouraged each other and provided needed moral support on the way down: "Va bene, Giacomo, va bene."

About half-way up the pyramid

Another interesting ruin was the ball court, the site of highly competitive games with serious consequences. It seems the captain of the losing team would necessarily be sacrificed after his loss. I would guess the average Mayan preferred being a coach potato to an athlete.

The ball court where some very serious games were played

Skull-stone in floor of ball court -- added incentive to win

Since the infamous Mayan calendar ends on December 21, many people around the world apparently interpret this as a certain indication of an imminent, apocalyptic, world-ending calamity. I can say only that I encountered no eschatological signs during our visit. All was quiet and normal. Indeed, even the local vendors were busily selling rugs, onyx statues and other crafts, as well as snacks for our return bus ride. It would seem, then, that the Mayans themselves anticipate no catastrophe. And so when we returned home I saw no reason to delay putting up our Christmas decorations and buying gifts for the grandchildren.

Aren't you happy you weren't born in Yucatan 1,000 years ago? And happier still you don't have to worry about maintaining two mega-yachts? The very fact of our being is good, and we are all blessed by God in so many countless ways. Take some time today to thank Him for those blessings.

Pax et bonum...

Costa Rica and Grand Cayman

Continuing my commentary on our cruise to the Western Caribbean, our next port of call was Puerto Limon in Costa Rica. Like Panama (at least the little bit of Panama we saw), the poverty of the people was evident in this part of Costa Rica. Once again we joined a tour we had booked in advance of the cruise. This particular tour was advertised as a train ride to a banana plantation where we would observe how bananas were grown, harvested and processed. The description bore little resemblance to reality.

Above: We passed this freighter -- the Hansa Magdeburg out of Hamburg -- as we entered Puerto Limon harbor in Costa Rica. I just thought it was a neat picture.

Our tour guide was an interesting enough fellow, a Costa Rican who worked as a realtor when he wasn't guiding tours. (I suspect, however, that he was as interested in selling vacation and retirement homes as he was in describing the sights.) The tour started badly when road construction forced our bus to take an alternate route. This in turn caused our train ride to start later than planned and left little time at subsequent stops.

Above: Our "banana plantation tour" train.

The train, probably 50 or more years old, wasn't a total bust. As it chugged along the track at the edge of the rain forest, we spotted a three-toed sloth up in a tree, and had an even more interesting encounter with a troop of howler monkeys. After perhaps a half-hour we stopped in the middle of nowhere and were invited to join our guide and his associates at a grubby little beach. There we were treated to a glass of soda or Costa Rican beer which we drank as we stood there looking at each other. All very odd.

Above: Diane and I standing around on the odd little Costa Rican beach

The train then returned us to our bus and we drove to the banana plantation. Unfortunately the plantation, for whatever reason, wasn't operating that day so we saw absolutely nothing. Indeed, I never saw even a single banana. We spent about 10 minutes there, looking at nothing in particular, reboarded the bus, and returned to the pier.

On the pier we wandered through a large flea market and bought gifts and other goodies and souvenirs -- the highlight of our brief stay in Costa Rica.

The photos below are of: (left) howler monkeys hanging out in the trees; and (right) one of the vendors at the flea market on the pier.

Leaving Puerto Limon we spent the next day at sea and arrived at Grand Cayman early on the morning of February 28.

Above: At sea, en route to Grand Cayman

Grand Cayman, as one might expect, is clean, neat and very British. Our prearranged tour there consisted of a trip on a glass-bottomed boat from which we could observe the undersea life that populates the local coral reefs. We also had a look at a old wreck from the early 20th century. The captain of our tour boat then donned scuba gear and dove under the boat so we could observe him feeding the fish. All very interesting.

Above: Diver feeding fish under our glass-bottomed tour boat

After our little boat ride, we climbed aboard a very uncomfortable bus for a tour of the island. Our guide, a local chap named Chico, apparently hadn't grasped the idea that tour guides are supposed to talk. He said perhaps 100 words during the entire tour, and most of those were in response to questions. In his defense, the fact that the bus had no PA system might have been a contributing factor.

Above: Diane holding a young sea turtle at the Turtle Farm

The tour also included a visit to a Sea Turtle Farm, where we observed these amazing and very large (up to 500 lbs.) animals. We also had the opportunity to hold some of the little ones. For Diane and me this was the highlight of the day's activities. Predictably, the tour included a visit to a shop that specialized in rum, rum cakes, and t-shirts -- probably owned by Chico's cousin. We also drove to a small town called Hell. You can imagine the kind of souvenirs offered there.

Above: Here I am at the gates of Hell

Afterwards, Diane and I had a surprisingly good lunch at George Town's local Margaritaville Cafe and then roamed in and out of the shops along the main street, eventually buying some serious bling for the beautiful Diane. We set sail that evening and 36 hours later were back in Miami.

Above: Fishermen cheating death off the Port of Miami breakwater

And that, folks, is the condensed version of our trip to faraway places with strange sounding names. Despite the less than stellar tours, the cruise was very enjoyable and provided both of us with some needed R & R.

Above: the Jewel of the Seas in port

I actually took over 900 photographs on the cruise, and posted over 100 of them online. If you want to view some of these, you can see them on flickr.com, either individually or as a slide show. Click here.

More on the Cruise

Okay, here's another chapter on our cruise to the Western Caribbean, I hope you're not tired of reading about it.

After Cartagena we headed for the Panama Canal and arrived early on the morning of February 25th. This was certainly one of the highlights of the cruise. The building of that canal almost 100 years ago was truly a remarkable accomplishment! Now operated completely by Panama it certainly brings some serious revenue to the Panamanian government. The cost for our ship to pass though the Gatun Locks and return was approximately $350,000.

From the Gatun Locks we entered Gatun Lake. At that point we and our friends left the ship via tender and went on a pre-paid tour of those same locks, followed by a trip to the town of Portobelo. The visit to the locks, this time from ashore, was especially interesting. I've included a few photos below so you can get a feel for what we saw.

Above: the Gatun Locks as we passed through early that morning

Above: two small but obviously powerful locomotives towing a container ship through the Gatun Locks

Above: the locks from the observation platform. Notice the tight squeeze for these larger ships.

Our tour guide was a bit odd -- I won't bore you with my reasons for saying that -- but he next took us to the city of Portobelo where we visited the local church, famous for its statue of the Black Christ (El Christo Negro). (See photo below.)
We also viewed the town's old Spanish fortifications and met some of the locals intent on selling us their native handcrafts. They were largely successful. I've included a few photos (below) of the local folks I met as I wandered around.

One little girl was especially photogenic. She was selling small bracelets, but I think she made more money posing for pictures. (See below)

More tomorrow...

We're Back Home in The Villages

Well, we're home...back from our little 10-day jaunt in the Western Caribbean. Diane and I actually had a wonderful time, and we especially enjoyed the ship, Royal Caribbean's Jewel of the Seas. Our stateroom, with its nice little starboard-side balcony, was roomy enough for the two of us and there was a surprisingly large amount of storage space -- a good thing since we brought so much "stuff" with us.

While we were aboard we just took it easy, and enjoyed this rare opportunity to experience at least a taste of true leisure. We read quite a bit. Diane played cards with our friends (I'm not much of a game person). And, sadly, we ate far too much, an all too common vice for those aboard cruise ships. The food was excellent, even tempting me to expand my culinary repertoire beyond the usual meat and potatoes. I ate many things I could neither identify nor pronounce, all apparently prepared to perfection. Those of you who know me well would be proud.

The eight of us -- three deacons and our wives, plus another couple from our parish -- were seated together each evening in the dining room. Our waiter and his assistant, two very pleasant young Turkish men with the unusual (to us at least) first names of Eyup and Ayhan, took wonderful care of us during our time aboard. Eyup was the more controlled and reserved, while Ayhan was certifiably wild and crazy. But both were extremely competent and always helpful and cheerful. They made our evenings a delight.

This is our friend, Walter, and our waiter, Eyup.

...and here's Diane with Ayhan

The wines, too, were very good, as were the "drinks of the day" that I occasionally sampled after finding a nice quite spot to read one of the books I brought with me. The waiters and waitresses seemed to find me regardless of where I hid. Even the most obscure corner of the ship wasn't safe from those offering odd-colored drinks with little umbrellas sticking out of them.

The eight of us (above, left to right): Deacon Walter; my wife, Diane; Deacon Joe; Joe's wife, Anne; Ed's wife, Dot; Walter's wife, Ellen; Ed; and me.

Although I took one of my little Asus Eee laptops with me, I posted to the blog only once. First of all, at 55 cents a minute Internet access wasn't cheap, especially when the system was slow. And secondly, I really didn't feel like doing any more "work" than was absolutely necessary. I paid a few bills, answered a few emails, and that's about it. The result? I returned Monday to an inbox crammed with nearly 350 emails. Most were junk, but almost 100 deserved responses. Tuesday was a busy day.

In my previous post I described briefly our visit to Labadee, Haiti, so I'll move on to the other ports we visited and give you my impressions.

First, these cruise ships spend so little time in port that one can do no more than develop a vague impression of the place visited. A visit of only a few hours can easily distort one's understanding of a place and its people. For example, our final stop, Grand Cayman, is generally clean and relatively prosperous. And yet, I found the people there less interesting and certainly less friendly than those we encountered at other places that were, on the surface at least, far less inviting. Despite the obstacle of language, for me interacting with the people of Portobelo, Panama and Cartagena, Colombia was far more interesting than chatting with the Canadian salespeople or British ex-pats we encountered in Grand Cayman.

Our second port of call was Cartagena, Colombia. We hired a tour guide named Blanca at $20 per person and piled into a rather ancient van for a rapid tour of the city. The tour wasn't too bad. We visited Cartagena's most famous church, that of St. Peter Claver, whose remains are visible at the base of the main altar. This remarkable priest -- the slave to the slaves -- devoted his life to ministering to and caring for the black slaves who were brought to the new world and sold in the human flesh markets.

The skeletal remains of St. Peter Claver (above)

Push cart in Cartagena's old section.

Following our guide, we walked through much of the old section of the city (see above photo), unsuccessfully dodging the ubiquitous street vendors, and buying little goodies along the way. This part of Cartagena, at least, is really quite attractive, but on our (rather scary) drive up the mountain we passed the homes of the very poor, squatters who live in the kind of shacks one encounters throughout the world wherever severe poverty exists. On top of the mountain, I was privileged (for a small fee of one US dollar) to hold a three-toed sloth who seemed completely uninterested in me or anything else. (See the photo below.)

I actually developed some small affection for the little guy, although any long-term relationship would necessitate surgical removal of whatever gland secretes the odor that surrounded him (and me).

I'll continue with a description of our cruise tomorrow. In the meantime, greet each day of this Lenten season with the joy that comes from being a people of faith. God bless you all.

At Sea in the Caribbean

Diane and I are aboard the Jewel of the Seas, a Royal Caribbean cruise ship of about 90,000 tons. We left Miami late on the afternoon of February 20, and so today is our fourth day aboard. At the moment we're somewhere south of Jamaica headed for Cartagena, Colombia, the Panama Canal, and other ports of call in the western Caribbean.

This is our first real pleasure cruise, although I've certainly spent a lot of time at sea. When I was just a lad, back around 1950, I sailed to Europe aboard the New Amsterdam, a Holland-American Line ship. Although it wasn't a pleasure cruise, I have some fond memories of that trip. My mother, brother and I were on our way to join my father, an Army officer stationed in Heidelberg, Germany. When we returned the next year we sailed on a former troop ship which wasn't nearly so pleasant. With those two exceptions, all of my time at sea has been aboard Navy ships, which were far from luxurious.

So far we've made one port stop, in Labadee, a peninsula on the north coast of Haiti. It's a rather strange place. The cruise line apparently leases it from the Haitian government and has turned it into a playground for their passengers. It has all the amenities: lovely beaches; all kinds of water sports and other forms of recreation; shops where one can buy local Haitian goods; and, of course, bars and dining facilities. All of this in an area isolated from the rest of Haiti, the poorest and most densely populated country in the Americas. The cruise passengers can't leave Labadee and very few Haitians can enter.

(The above photo shows Diane and me on the beach in Labadee, Haiti. I'm already looking a bit chubby thanks to the omnipresent shipboard food.)

This visit, then, has generated some mixed feelings. I suspect the money given to the Haitian regime goes nowhere but in the pockets of its corrupt officials. But some Haitians probably benefit from the arrangement, either through jobs or the sale of their cottage industry crafts and other products. On balance, however, I suspect it has little positive impact on the average Haitian and only enriches the regime and provides the cruise line with a cheap place to let their passengers relax ashore for a day. I've included a few photos so you can get a idea of what Labadee looks like,

The winds and the seas have picked up today and I'm guessing that we're experiencing 15-20 foot swells as a result of some pretty hefty trade winds out of the East. I'm actually sitting on the balcony of our stateroom, probably 75 feet above the water, enjoying the warm salt air and sound of the sea. And yet, despite the seas, the ship is remarkably stable and I had no trouble finding my sea-legs once again.

The ship has cellular service at sea along with a number of WiFi “hot spots” for Internet access. Of course, they charge for Internet access (they charge for everything) but it's not too unreasonable provided one doesn't spend a lot of time surfing the web. I've used it only for paying bills, checking email and posting on this blog. We also have satellite TV service so one can keep up with the world if brief isolation proves too painful.

I had forgotten how beautiful the sea is...and how awe-inspiring. At sea one can better appreciate the greatness of God's gifts to us. Watching the seemingly endless sea as our relatively tiny ship passes over it is not unlike the sensation one experiences when staring heavenward on a dark, star-lit night. Yes, God is great and, insignificant as we are in the face of His creation, we are blessed to be loved so much.

(The above photo of NE Haiti was taken early in the morning as we arrived at Labadee.)