Rainforest, ruins and raging seas

Rainforest, ruins and raging seas—this trip had it all. We are just back from ten days in the western Caribbean: Cozumel, Costa Maya, Belize, Jamaica and Grand Cayman. It’s been ten years since we had seen these places, so we were curious as to how things might have changed.

We were three hours late getting to the ship in Galveston, Texas due to thunderstorms in Atlanta and mechanical problems on one plane, so we made it on board thirty minutes before the ship was to sail. We had to take a bus to the pier, and it was a lively group, with everyone excited about our coming adventure. We started meeting people who were to become friends for the rest of the trip.

Kathy was thrilled with my last surprise—the fact that we were in a “suite” which amounted to a decent sized hotel room on the ship. We had an embarrassing amount of closet space, even room to store our suitcases. There was nice sitting area with a sofa and two chairs, and mini refrigerator under a bar. Of course, the best thing was a huge balcony, where we spent much quality time. The bathroom was nicer than what we have at home, with double sinks and a big tub and mirrors all around. Some people take an inside cabin reasoning that they don’t spend much time there anyway, but now we are spoiled and will be in suites whenever we cruise in the future.

The dinner table is always a challenge. We take our chances with a table for eight. Like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re going to get. This time there were some nice people and some well, different people. The nice people consisted of a couple in their fifties and the man’s parents. The younger pair live in Alaska, while the parents are still in Maine. Sometimes relatives at a table will only talk to themselves and ignore the rest of us, but these people were not like that at all.

Then there were…The Others. Bob and Loree, a couple in their sixties from Michigan who were rather snobbish and extremely concerned with status. You see, if you go on a certain number of cruises with Royal Caribbean, you move up on their “frequent flyer” program through different levels. Each level gives you more benefits. They happen to be “Platinum” members, near the top level. (Honest to goodness, my “Sea Pass” card—the card you use as a credit card on board and an ID card to get on and off the ship—said “Gold Member” on it. I am not making this up.

Since we were celebrating our 35th anniversary on this cruise, our cabin attendant (Allyson) left a bottle of champagne in our room. When we told the dinner table about it, right away Platinum Loree started in her chair and said, “Are you platinum?”, quite put out that they didn’t get a present like that. One night I ordered the Thai chicken and it came with a wing attached and sticking up like a little flag pole. Platinum Bob had ordered the same thing and when his came he said dismissively, “I’m not eating that! Take it away.” What’s the big deal? And how am I supposed to feel when I sit there and eat what he just rejected? That’s the thing, they would loudly proclaim their dissatisfaction with food or service, or their pleasure with their order. One night Loree said, “I love Osso Bucco!” so I leaned over and said, ‘You have all his albums?”

The thing that really tore it with me was the night that Nice Debbie from Alaska and I were talking about books and how she was currently reading ‘Memoirs of a Geisha.” Platinum Loree said, “Oh, I found that to be trite. I never like anything that I think I could have written myself. There wasn’t much dialogue in it.”

OK. Enough’s enough. “Memoirs of a Geisha” was more than a book. It was an experience. Golden created a wonderful multilevel story that moved a reader through a marvelous sensibility and sensitivity. You felt transported by the story. I asked her if she had ever read “Snow Falling on Cedars” (“No”), and I said you have to appreciate the Japanese sensibility to understand “Geisha”, but I stopped at that point because it was evident that I wasn’t getting through. Later in the week, Nice Debbie made a point of saying, “I’m sure enjoying reading Memoirs of a Geisha”—I don’t think she was trying to start something, though!

So I sat next to Platinum Loree as sort of a buffer zone between her and the rest of the table.

Nice Debbie and her husband Paul were staying in the “Owner’s Suite” on the ship, and this was a sticking point with Platinum Loree. She hinted around saying, “I’d sure like to see what that looks like!”, but Debbie and Paul didn’t bite. In fact, Debbie was embarrassed by the fact that they had that ostentatious sounding room and didn’t want to invite anyone in to see it, feeling that it might be seen as “showing off”. At the end of the cruise, she did invite us in. It was about twice as big as our space and even had a Jacuzzi. They explained that the only way they could have afforded such an opulent cabin was the big discount that Royal Caribbean gave them. They had had a problem on a previous cruise and they eventually settled with RCCL.

We set up a few excursions in advance and in some ports we didn’t do anything except shop a little. One of the things I always wanted to do was to do down in the submarine “Atlantis” that they have in several different ports. I finally got my chance in Cozumel, Mexico. It was very much fun, seeing the coral formations and the fish. We even saw a great big lobster and a barracuda. Kathy stayed on the ship, praying that I survived the submersible.

Speaking of survival, we saw lots of hurricane damage in Cozumel. Buildings with roofs torn off, beachside hotels gutted, fields of trees snapped off, rubble everywhere. I saw construction workers don wet suits and snorkel gear and wade out into the water. They picked up big rocks from the bottom and heaved them onto the shore. That was their way of clearing the beach. No heavy equipment, just manual labor.

Costa Maya was just a short way south of Cozumel on the Yucatan peninsula, and we had never been there before. Turns out it’s basically a tourist trap financed by Royal Caribbean. We did some shopping, and that was fun because you can bargain with people—no one expects that you will pay the asking price. One disturbing thing we saw was young Mexican men wearing fake Mayan headdresses posing with tourists. Just seemed like they were debasing themselves.

We saved our Mayan ruins tour for Belize, since we were acting on the advice of an Anthropology professor from the university. We took a bus ride for an hour out into the countryside, and then got on a small boat for a trip up the New River. The captain stopped periodically to show us iguanas, crocodiles, and cool plants along the shore. Belize was everything I hoped it would be: a walk in a real rainforest, amazing ruins, beautiful country.

I climbed one very tall temple with crumbling steps, with the help of a heavy rope that ran up the center of the steep steps. Kathy was having a private adventure in the woods (one which should put an end to the age old question: Does a tourist poop in the rainforest?), so she didn’t see me go up, but she returned in time to see me scoot down the side on my butt.

I have a feeling that they will probably close that particular temple to climbing at some point, because it is taking a toll on the structure. It was a great view of the jungle and the river from the top, though. The whole Mayan city in that area covered about thirty square miles, so of course we saw only a small bit of the remains.

We did have several misadventures along the way—the things that make a trip more memorable. For instance, one of our bags wound up on another ship! We eventually got it back four days into the trip, but it gave me a headache for a couple of days until they located it. Fortunately, I packed the way they tell you to: a little bit of hers and little bit of his in every bag. That way, if one gets lost, you will each have something to wear. It made for some great jokes at the dinner table, as I told the group I would be wearing Kathy’s underwear pretty soon.

Another gaffe happened on our way to the famous Seven Mile Beach in Grand Cayman. We looked for a taxi to take us out there, but the driver wouldn’t leave until he had found enough people to fill his cab. We stood on the sidewalk while he cajoled other tourists into taking a ride. Finally, I started to sell it too! When we had a quorum, we set off for the beach. We got out of the taxi and we were a few steps away from the place we had waited ten years to get back to, when Kathy said, “I want to change into my water shoes.” And I said, “Sure, they’re in the bag--that we left in the taxi! I was so mad—mad at myself! I ran back to the road, crossed over to the other side (Fortunately, they drive on the wrong side there), figuring that the driver would have to return on that road. I tried to remember what color the cab was; I kind of remembered what the driver looked like. After a few minutes, here he came around the corner and we flagged him down and retrieved the bag.

The beach was gorgeously sandy, the water gloriously warm, and we were so happy to be there.

The cruise ended with two days at sea. I had chosen the port side, thinking that the sun would be on our balcony for the return trip, and that worked for one day anyway. Then it clouded up and got chilly. Earlier in the trip, we had had twelve foot seas and a little bouncy ride. Neither Kathy nor I ever get seasick, so we didn’t mind. Made things more interesting. One thing I noticed this time, was that there is a small army of people whose sole job is to wipe down the handrails all over the ship. These days, the cruise lines are afraid of contagion racing through the passengers. They even have alcohol hand wipe dispensers at the entrance to dining rooms. When the seas were heavy, the rail wipers put out barf bags on the stairs, just in case someone needed one in a hurry.

No cruise would be complete without a trip to the casino. We did our best ever on the slot machines this trip, putting in a hundred dollars and coming home with $360. We would put in ten dollars and when we had doubled our money, we’d leave. Kathy a hit a nice jackpot once, and I would occasionally hit a small one, so we escaped as winners.

Our trip home was uneventful. Everything worked fine, all the connections connected, and we said our goodbyes to new friends at different spots along the way as we scattered to our homes. We arrived to temperatures near 60 and then typically, the thermometer dropped by thirty degrees overnight and it’s snowing. Typical Cleveland weather. It’s somehow just wrong, after ten days in paradise.

Thanks for all your good wishes!