New Year's Eve Eve

Still catching up. We left Manaus and sailed downriver -- and it's  BIG FRIGGIN' RIVER -- to the much smaller town of Santarem (named after Portugese Saint Irene, who is revered, naturally, for killing herself after being raped. Duh.)  Manaus feels overwhelming, but Santarem feels very "do-able."  We took an all-day excursion, several busloads of us, to a stop at a native village -- a bit reminiscent of colonial Williamsburg, but not so much -- where we saw more native plants (mango, trees, avocado, lime & cashew trees and manioc roots) and saw how they process the manioc to eat it.  It's a multi-step process of peeling, soaking, draining, grinding, roasting to produce two different kinds of manioc flour, tapioca and farina.  Then we got to taste some manioc pancakes and fresh-off-the-vine fruits.

After the village we continued to Alter de Chao, "the Mediterranean of the Amazon," a small community on an Amazon tributary where many Brazilians holiday.  We boat-shuttled over to an island with beautiful sand beaches, clean river water, many many huts / bars. Swam in lovely water on December 28th, got lightly sunburned, watched birds, drank a Brahma beer, bought some gifts. Very few English speakers, but we managed very well with hand gestures and the Portugese phrases for "please" and "thank you" -- see, Captain Kangaroo was right about those being the magic words!

Boxing Day and after

Playing catch-up (what else is new?) after the last couple of days.  We arrived at Manaus at about noon on the 26th; it's a big city (1 1/2 million people, I think), and the only city, really, in the state of Amazonas. The next largest community is perhaps 200,000, I think, and then villages. (We have heard great lectures from the onboard faculty and our guest lecturer from Manaus, John-Paul D., who is only with us for part of the trip. But, since I'm on holiday and not rigorously taking notes, of course I forget a lot.)

Manaus, like all of Brazil, has a very mixed heritage: Europeans plus indigenous peoples (most of whom died after European contact) plus slaves imported from west Africa plus a large Japanese population (go figure). 

The day we pulled in Bibb came down with the virus epizootic that tends to prevail in closed spaces (like cruise ships); he stayed in the cabin all day while I was out and about, visiting the zoo and shopping. The next day he felt well enough (though still below par) to go along on the outing we had planned, a riverboat "bus" ride to the Ecopark, up the Rio Negro a few miles, including as options  lunch, a jungle trek, visit to island monkey sanctuary, and dip in the lovely set of pools separated by mini-waterfalls. 

What a glorious day that was!  Bibb opted to rest in a hammock after our introductory lecture, but I went on the walk, dip and monkey-visit with about 3o fellow tourists. Our riverbus guide, Paul, had commented extensively en route to the park and was very knowledgable; we had to divide into two groups for the forest walk, and I went with another guide, Marcelo, who speaks English and Portugese (and maybe other things too), and his Indian assistant, Jonelyn, who speaks Portugese, some Spanish and an indigenous language. We walked single-file on well-defined but not manicured trails; every five minutes or so, we'd stop and Marcelo, translating for Jonelyn, would point out a tree, vine or flower and describe its uses for life in the jungle. 

Jonelyn showed us a tree with a high pitch content; the Indians use a chunk of a branch as torches, and it burns for a really long time.  Also, when the pitch drips out of the flames, it becomes sticky when it cools, so you can use it as a glue. We looked a tree which, when tapped, yields a milky substance (tastes okay) and another whose smaller branches can be de-barked and then smoked -- not a high, just a pleasant taste. Palm branches can be worked into thatching for roofs or folded into many toy shapes, including caterpillars, bow & arrow, stars, and crowns.  Another tree's bark can be scraped off, using a broad leaf to catch it, and dumped into water to make a malaria treatment and, so they say, natural Viagra.  Much hilarity ensued. [Picture it:  14 middle-aged white tourists wearing crowns, asking for their own toys, sampling the jungle treats.  It was FABULOUS.]

Christmas Day!

It's December 25th on the Amazon, 82 degrees, humid, breezy (at least on deck).  Saw some cute kids dancing around the disco-lit tree in the lounge last night.  Another of the families on board with small children was gathered in one of the lounges, around an artificial tree, opening gifts this morning as I walked to breakfast. Several passengers are wearing Santa hats (or reindeer antlers), and I am sporting the Christmas-lightbulb earrings Pat gave me years ago. (No, they don't light up.) The intraship television station that charts our progress (latitude, longitude, course, speed, with a little map -- pretty interesting) is playing secular tunes: at the moment, it's John Denver doing "Please, Daddy, Don't Get Drunk This Christmas." 

Well, nothing's perfect.  :  )

High Seas, Trois

I should actually be doing the numbers in Portugese, as we are en route to Brazil, but I don't know any numbers in Portugese.  And since my counting in French is pretty limited too, I may have to change the way that I title posts!

Spent yesterday (was it just yesterday??) in port at Bridgetown, Barbados.  We found a cabbie, David, (or he found us) who squired us around, first to the Barbados Museum, housed in an old army prison, a well-done set of displays on the history, flora and fauna of the island. The setting itself is pretty impressive:  a hollow square surrounding a lush, shady courtyard, deep overhangs and shuttered windows that make even the non-air-conditioned rooms pretty comfortable. (Displays are climate controlled, though.) After reading about the architecture and rationale for "chattel houses" (chattel meaning simply "movable property or belongings"), we then SAW chattel houses as we drove through town. They have a steeply pitched roof to shed rain, symmetric door and window placement, and, frequently, a rear flat-roofed shed. A second (or third) unit can be added as the family's fortunes (and numbers) expand.

The drive through town was something of an adventure in itself, as David is a driver after my own heart -- frequent mostly-friendly honking, passing on curves, impatience with traffic. You go, David! 

At  our next stop, the Mount Gay rum tour, we walked through the history of the rum industry (and thus a big part of the island's) with about a dozen other tourists and our very personable guide, who admitted up front that an important goal of the tour was to ensure that we all purchased rum before leaving, and then proceeded to charm and educate us all.  (And we did indeed buy our quota of spirits.) You are allowed one six-pack or two bottles per person, per port, and the crew checks you in when you reboard the ship. Before sugar cane cultivation cranked up in Barbados and other Caribbean islands, the average British citizen consumed about as much sugar PER YEAR as is in one can of modern Coke. The islands, and slave labor, allowed that to rise and fortunes to be made in Britain, France, Portugal and Spain.

When we rejoined David after the rum tour, he had news from the hospital: his fiance had delivered their baby girl, Aria.  We look forward to Ms. Aria Williams being Prime Minister of Barbados in about thirty years  :  )

David then took us to a "local" place to eat, which was pretty near downtown and your basic down-home lunch counter kind of place, but with rice & peas and flying fish on the day's menu.  The plate also had an inch-thick triangle of some softish, pale yellow, somewhat fibrous, ahh, stuff. It tasted pretty good, but we have no clue what it was. (The flying fish was mild.) (And not flying at the moment.)

Then we moseyed back toward the port, carrying, unfortunately, our heavy rum, and made a variety of other purchases along the way (but I can't tell you what b/c some of you readers -- assuming there are any -- may be getting them as gifts).    More soon.    Another 24 hours or so to the equator! ! ! 

High Seas, Duex

Spent today (well, most of today) on St. Bart's, a small and somewhat vertical Francophone island populated by quite wealthy folk. We "tendered" to shore, which means that 60 or so people at a time take a small boat, like a ferry only faster. Then our group of 15 walked a few yards down the dock to our catamaran (which I now know is a double-hulled sailboat, the one that has "trampoline" canvas decks slung in the bow between the hulls. You know, those boats that look like they are riding on two parallel cigars.) Our captain was a faux-fierce French type, ably assisted by his 6-year-old son ("his name is Sailor") and wife Anique. (That's how I'm spelling it, and I'm sticking to it.)  All were tanned and friendly and helpful. We sailed around the end of the island to a beach -- I'm blanking on the name -- and anchored; then almost everyone snorkeled for about an hour. Then we lounged in the sun and sailed back to  port. 

This is possibly the most perfect experience I've ever had on a December day. Baby-blue skies, puffy clouds, turquoise water, gleaming white sand.... Violet, green and tiger-striped fishes below us. Silence, except for a few splashes and that Darth Vader breathing sound that you get in from the snorkel. Not to mention that our captain offered me his personal "noodle" when I asked for one 

Lunch in a bistro across from the docks ("la salade de poulet avec exotic fruits"), and tendering back to the ship. My skin is glowing with a faint sunburn, and the salt is washed off. Oh it was lovely.

I did take a bunch of pictures today, but Bibb uploaded them to his computer and I'll have to get them. (Don't try to "share" anything electronic with this man.)

We've met a few blowhards and spoiled travelers, folks who seem to have a hard time putting up with any inconvenience or discomfort, but have met many more nice folks. Our assigned seating for the four "formal" dinners put us with a sister and brother from Canada; he's still there, and she now lives in Louisville, KY. We also met (over dinner tonight) a woman who's just starting her EDD in elementary special ed.  Bob the piano guy. The Jennifers.  Couple having a long vacation before his knee surgery makes them immobile for a bit.  

High Seas, One

From aboard the MV Explorer, somewhere east and south of Puerto Rico, entering the Caribbean.

How strange is that? I have never thought of myself as the sort of person who goes on a cruise. (But then, who are they, and why am I not?) But here we are, and this is not a typical cruise or even at all a "cruise," as it is marketed by the Semester at Sea folk, who sponsor between-semester trips as well, as a "voyage of discovery." We're going to Brazil and up the Amazon -- excuse me, I meant UP THE AMAZON!!! -- and then back to Florida, stopping at half a dozen islands along the way. 

What have I discovered so far? Well, when I first saw our ship -- not a "boat" -- I said something like "wow, that's really big." It still seems large to me, as it has 7 decks to navigate and carries over 700 passengers and 200+ crew. But I've learned that it's not that large, as cruise vessels go and, more importantly, that the ocean is a whole heckuva lot bigger, as it can toss this baby about pretty easily. So my first discovery was "wow, the ocean is really big."

My second, on our first night out from port (Nassau), was that being seasick is no fun at all. I hurled pretty copiously, took a pill being dispensed right & left by the ship's doctor, and felt better very quickly. More pitching and lurching in the last couple of days, but I feel okay now. Maybe that rough initial period of acclimation really worked. (She said optimistically.)

We get to our first island port tomorrow, St. Bart's. More soon about the colors of the water, wave spray, jellyfish sightings, our fellow travellers, etc  etc.