Crossed through the Canal today, and it was quite lovely compared to doing this in 2001. It was about ten degrees cooler, and there was a breeze, quite different than the last time I was here.
The crossing also seemed faster than in 01. Maybe there are fewer ships due to the global recession. Maybe I’m wrong. But last time, it took the entire day to make the crossing—we had dinner off of Panama City. This time we were several miles out before the sun set. No matter.
The Canal is, of course, one of the great engineering achievements of the world, and though a lot has been modernized, and new locks are being built that will handle larger ships (they’re being built in a place where we cannot see them), what we see today is very similar to what people have been seeing and sailing through for nearly a century. The lock doors are original. Much of the concrete is original. The electric donkeys are much different than they were, but they are recognizable.
Chokepoints like this Canal, or an important pass over a mountain range capture the world’s attention on occasion. It’s hard to overestimate the strategic importance of this canal to both commerce and military needs. It’s also a place of tremendous history, including the crushing disappointment of the French efforts and the incredible industrial might and hubris of the USA in its progressive era. Completion of the Panama Canal is one of the reasons why the US became a world power. Contemplating the sheer size of Culebra cut is just astonishing, considering when it was created. Even today, the thought of moving so much earth in such a hot and humid place gives me pause. How could man ever have enough confidence and/or ego to do such a thing?
Even with the nice weather, it’s still bloody hot, and the sun is brutal. I’m happy to have sandal marks on my feet again, and a bit of a red glow (I tan in an odd way.) It was funny to watch people trying to cope with the sun today, looking for shade on open decks. The Captain opened up the bow deck, which is normally off-limits, and hundreds of people were lining the rail until we got through the first locks, then they bailed to the safety of the Lido deck, where windows and a roof keep the worst of the sun off of you, and air conditioning is nearby. The shady side of the boat was lined with people in lounges, butts of people leaning against the rails, and an incredible number of seemingly infirm people.
People who never should have been allowed to climb stairs were trying to navigate them, as well as climbing through watertight hatches with 12” high thresholds that normally aren’t open. Able-bodied people were trying to crowd around them with little regard for other people’s needs. On the other hand, what were these fossils thinking? One old lady had to be virtually carried down a stairwell by a very unhappy looking porter. A woman in a wheelchair insisted on being carried over two sea doors, had her wheelchair brought over, was placed in it, and then decided that she couldn’t seen anything from the deck anyway, and had to have her and the chair carried back after less than five minutes. I probably sound like a bigot here, but sheesh!
One reason that I could never live in the tropics is that I need some daily temperature change, and there is none apparent here. Thank goodness for the stiff, on-shore breeze we are feeling tonight. I see Costa Rican lights off the starboard beam, and being on the stern looking landward feels actually pretty nice. At least the wind is stiff enough to carry off the persperation. Mid-deck, the wind is still, due to the size of the boat. The air is sticky, but not too hot. It just doesn’t feel right however. Keep me in a more seasonal climate, please.
One person has asked why I write nothing about the nightlife. Tonight is the Lido pool party, with a band and old people dancing or doing a conga line. In the casino are slot and blackjack tournaments. A movie replaced the live show in the Rembrandt Theatre—this must be the entertainer’s night off. DJ Ray is playing a tribute to the rat pack in the Crow’s Nest lounge, and on the fantail is “Cigars Under the Stars.” If I was with someone, it might be different, but I’m not, so it ain’t. My cousin seems to be kissing a lot of client butt on this trip, which is okay, but I miss spending more time with her.
My night life is to go up to deck 14, above the ship’s lights, and look at stars. The ocean isn’t the best for this, especially tonight when the air is noticeably heavy, but Orion is up, Cassiopea, Sirius, Mars, and a few other things. Haven’t found the Dipper or Polaris, but these are strange skies to me.
I do wander around the decks with other people on them, and watch them conga dance and drink and chat about their nonsense. I ran in to two guys arguing tonight about Tiger Woods. Honestly, who cares? I’m getting a fair amount of exercise running up and down these stairs—the top is deck 14, my room is on deck six, the Library is on deck nine, I think.
Clocks going back another hour tonight, so I should have more time to ramble on, but really, this isn’t all that interesting, and I’m not writing as well as I wish I were these days. Time for sleep.
No comments:
Post a Comment