Logbook: South Spain Sprint

As the ferry docked in Cadiz at about seven Saturday evening, those of us who didn’t have cars were directed to gather on one of the car decks where a shuttle van was waiting to take us ashore. The briefest look at the number of people compared to the size of the van made it clear that many, many van loads would be required to get us all ashore. As usual, there was a crush to be first in line and I just wasn’t in the mood to fight my way through. Instead, I saw a guy who seemed to know what he was doing walking down the ramp with his bags so I followed him. As we walked off the loading ramp, we were accosted by a dock worker who basically asked us what the hell we thought we were doing: Pedestrians are not allowed on the pier. I played dumb and the guy who I thought knew what he was doing made a bit of a fuss. As it turns out, he was either a genius or just lucky because within moments a different van arrived to take just the two of us to the passenger terminal, well ahead of even the first van load from the ferry. Muy bien!

After a very cursory look at my gear, the security guard let me pass and I emerged onto the streets of Cadiz. I walked to a cab stand across the street and asked to be taken to the hotel that Vini had arranged for me from Tenerife. The direct distance to my hotel turned out to be just a few blocks -- I could have walked it -- but the drive was quite a bit longer due to the winding route the cab had to take among the narrow, traffic restricted alley-like streets. As I paid the fare, I was very aware that not having a map -- not knowing I could have walked to the hotel -- was clear evidence that I had “outrun my intel”: I have been moving so far, so fast, with so little time and internet connection to do proper “next step” research and planning that I was completely “blind” and wasting energy and resources as a result. (Note to self: It’s time to park yourself somewhere for a while and get sorted out.)

After a simple check in at a perfectly acceptable, nicely located hotel, I dumped my gear, grabbed my book and walked to the nearby town square where I had an excellent salad for dinner. It was still pretty early by local standards when I got back to my room, but I was tired and hit the rack for a solid eight hours of sleep. At about seven on Sunday morning, I found coffee at a little joint in the square and enjoyed two cups of pretty good “cafe con leche” in the company of a number of locals who had theirs with an astonishing array of alcohol chasers. You know I love my Scotch whiskey, but I just couldn’t get myself to “do as the locals do” and have it with my coffee at seven o’clock in the morning! I spent the day walking around and enjoying the old town of Cadiz, a pretty charming mix of old world and new. I at least glanced at most of the popular sights -- cathedrals, Roman ruins, palaces, etc. -- and had snacks along the way at a variety of typical places.

While Cadiz is one of the nicer places I have been in Spain -- and I think it could be a nice place to spend some time if you were in a “Spanish mood” -- I was still feeling ready to leave Hispanic culture behind me. So, I returned to my hotel by way of the train station -- verifying that it was within easy walking distance -- and called it a day. Yesterday morning I checked out then parked myself in a local internet joint for most of the day to confirm my immediate arrangements going forward, catch up on some personal business, Skype some folks and do a very little bit of advanced planning. At about six o’clock I walked to the train station, got on board my overnight train to Barcelona and settled in for the night. With my “not so great” experience of Spanish trains some years ago -- (Hey Ferit, can you say “Bocadillo”!) -- I had extremely modest expectations for this trip. Thus, I was pleasantly surprised that the ride was reasonably smooth, fast and quiet. I even got enough sleep to be able to function when I arrived here in Barcelona and pretty quickly found the right ticket window to get my tickets onward.

With a two hour layover on my hands, I stashed my gear in a locker and went outside for a quick walk about. I barely got to the corner before my “bad mojo meter” pegged the pin, reminding me of my previous negative feelings about -- and experiences in -- Barcelona. Some places in the world just don’t feel right. So, I walked right back into the train station and parked myself in a McDonald’s -- yes, I admit it, a McDonald’s -- where I am having some breakfast and a little quiet time. In a few minutes, I will board my train to the border and on to Montpellier, France. Thus, I have executed my “South Spain Sprint” and have no regrets about it. I am now also at the end of my “Atlantic Crossing” and ready to explore an entirely different part of the world. By the end of the day, I will have traded “no habla Espanol” for “no parlez Francais” on The Voyage of Macgellan!

Lost In Translation: Canaria-Cadiz Ferry

Ferry Door Sign

Trasmediterranea Ferry

Canaria to Cadiz, Spain

April 2007

All I can say is that I hope the door likes it...

Logbook: Canaria To Cadiz

My plan to post the last Logbook entry on Wednesday night was quickly derailed by the hotel's non-functioning internet connection. I inquired about its status at the reception desk and was told by the cheery young woman on duty that she couldn't tell me because nobody had used the hotel's internet in as long as she could remember. (Reminder to self: A hotel's advertisement that it has internet doesn't mean it works!) I hit the streets and found an internet joint a few blocks away but was told that its wi-fi was not available at night -- yet another absurd new internet encounter on The Voyage! With the time being close to midnight, I decided not to pursue the insanity any further and abandoned my plan in favor of sleep. After breakfast on Thursday morning, I went back to the "no wi-fi at night" joint and was told that, in fact, they had no wi-fi at all. Perhaps the internet gremlins stole their wi-fi while I slept? After a half hour of fruitless searching, I remembered to "mind what I have learned" in my international internet intrigue over the past eight months and made an abrupt change in strategy: I hailed a cab and told the driver to take me to the best hotel in town. Ten minutes later I walked into the Las Palmas five-star hotel, opened up my Mac and was astounded to find myself on a 4-megabit pipe! I actually did a little happy dance -- which gave the lobby bartender a good laugh -- as I proceeded to update the website, download many backlogged podcasts, TV shows, etc. and have high quality video Skypes and iChats with a bunch of folks. I'd almost forgotten how fun the internet is when you're on a truly stable, hi-speed pipe!

After about four hours of internet bliss -- not to mention two cups of pretty good coffee, a Diet Coke and a club sandwich -- I packed up and walked down to the port to visit with my friends on Polar Star one more time before we all go our separate ways. They were all surprised but obviously happy to see me and we had yet another good round of laughs. As it happened, crazy chef Paul was just about to go in search of internet, so I said "Have I got a surprise for you!" and we wandered back to the five-star hotel together. Another couple of hours -- and beers! -- later, I had Skyped a few more folks, including a woman to whom I had been referred months ago as an excellent travel planner, guide and language tutor in the South of France. With all of my internet stuff caught up -- and with a good starting plan in place for France -- I bid Paul farewell and headed back to my own hotel for dinner and an early night.

Yesterday morning I got up, packed up, checked out and caught a cab to the port where I got my boarding pass and embarked on Trasmediterranea’s Fortuny ferry to Cadiz in time to set sail promptly at 8 am. The ferry is huge, with three decks for vehicles of all sizes, one deck of cabins, one deck for “common areas” and a top deck with a pool, gymnasium and kennel for dogs. It is at least ten times the size of Polar Star and quite possibly the biggest ship I have ever been on. Following the crowd, I made my way to “reception” where I was given a card key and directed down a long hall to room 326. I smiled and said “This is different” when I opened to door to find the cabin arrangement you see here. In fact, there are four bunks in total plus a bathroom and not much room for anything else. Mindful of my unusual amount of gear -- most people have vehicles where they leave their luggage and only carry an overnight bag -- I tried to take up as little room as possible by standing my duffel in a corner and putting my pack on my bunk. With my “check in” complete, I set off to explore the ship and figure out what is what. In brief, the “common areas” deck has a cafe in the bow and a bar/disco in the stern, a self-serve cafeteria amidship and countless sitting areas everywhere else. I had my first coffee of the morning in the cafe then went back to my room where I met one of my roommates, a Spanish man in his mid-sixties named Guillermo. I was able to convey to him my limited fluency in Spanish, but we hit it off well enough in pidgen to agree that it was time for more coffee and went back to the cafe. It turns out he is a retired chief engineer of a freighter that used to take oranges to Boston and bring bananas back from the Caribbean... or maybe vice versa. I don’t remember, but we had a pleasant visit.

After that I went to the cinema to see “The DaVinci Code” -- subtitled in English -- then went to the cafeteria for lunch. Ugh. Without a doubt the worst food I have had yet on The Voyage -- some kind of greasy pasta, a previously frozen breaded chicken thing and a pale white lettuce salad. I guess when you are the only game in town you don’t really have to compete on quality. After another little walk around I went back to the room to get my Mac pack and met my other two roomies: Juan, another sixty-ish Spaniard, and Jose, who grunted from beneath the blanket on his cot. Juan is a very outgoing and talkative man whom I was unable to convince of my linguistic handicap. Then again, perhaps my Spanish was just good enough to convince him that I was deaf, because he started talking at me in a much louder voice. After a few moments of nodding and smiling, I grabbed my pack and got the hell out of there. In the cafe, I spent the entire afternoon and early evening in iLife before going for dinner at about 8 pm. A culinary debacle of epic proportions is how I would describe that meal. Between a cheesy white dish that I couldn’t even vaguely recognize and baked chicken with chips, I chose the latter, Thankfully I was able to grab an apple for dessert because I could barely wash down the chicken with the half-liter bottle of water. Oh, I forgot to mention that the meals are included in the price of the ticket. Such a deal! I did some reading while I had a vino tinto night cap in the bar/disco then decided to hit the rack.

Upon opening the door to my darkened room, I could barely see three lumps in the other bunks. Guillermo was sawing logs in his bunk, Jose was still buried under the blanket on his and Juan started shouting in the dark, something about not being able to find his card key. I threw my pack on my bunk, quickly put in my earplugs and climbed on my bunk fully clothed, hoping this would somehow convey to Juan that I had an urgent need for sleep. Either my ploy worked or the earplugs did their job, because I was soon asleep and was awakened only briefly a couple of times in the night by bathroom door action before waking up at about 5:30 this morning. I figured that was about as good as it was going to get, so I grabbed my pack and sneaked out of the room in the dark. The hall was deserted, as was the entire rest of the ship. I didn’t see anybody, anywhere as I walked around, and decided to go out on deck to enjoy the sea air and the sunrise.

Although I faithfully adhere to the “one hand for the ship” rule, I nevertheless lost traction on the slippery aft gangway and proceeded to land on my ass and bump down one deck. I’m okay, though my tail bone occasionally reminds me of my adventure and my left ankle is complaining a little bit about its misuse. Seriously, I’m fine... It is a little funny though: I’ve made four trips across the infamous Drake Passage in a tiny ship with no problems yet I bust my ass riding a behemoth on the calm Atlantic. Go figure. Anyway, I found a comfy chair then did some reading and napping until the PA announced it was time for breakfast. With no small sense of dread, I proceeded to the cafeteria and was not disappointed: For your “no additional charge” breakfast, you get a package of toast crackers, a pack of processed sweet cakes, a roll, a slice of ham, a slice of cheese, a glass of juice and a cup of coffee. Yummy!

For the rest of the morning I read one of the crummy novels I picked up in Tenerife. I won’t bother to tell you how bad lunch was. Now, I am back in the cafe spending some quality time with my Mac. The trip hasn’t been as bad as I may have made it sound, but I will be quite happy to arrive in Cadiz in a few hours and have another memorable segment of “surface” travel behind me on The Voyage of Macgellan!

Lost In Translation: La Gomera, Canary Islands

Park Information Sign

Garajonay National Park

La Gomera, Canary Islands

April 2007

Those damn kids, even their noisy instrument are high... and I guess that means no "talk" radio...

Logbook: Canary Islands

Arriving in Las Palmas, Canary Islands early Saturday morning had the feeling of arriving in a proper port, with all manner and size of ships at anchor and a pretty densely packed city of office buildings, hotels and the like. Polar Star took its place at the dock and I had the morning to leisurely eat breakfast, do my final packing and make one more round of farewells to my friends among the crew. At about noon we disembarked and I grabbed the photo inset above which shows -- ironically to me -- our trusty little ice breaker in the company of a palm tree. Maybe you had to be there. From the dock, a bus took us across the north end of Gran Canaria to the ferry boat dock to catch our ride to Tenerife -- one of the mid-sized Canary Islands. The inter-island ferries are not to be believed. They are large and very, very fast at speeds of about 75 kph (45 mph). They are also comfortable, clean and run on time. If you visit the Canary Islands, the ferries are your best friend for inter-island transport. After a transit of only about 40 minutes, we reached Tenerife then transferred to a bus which took us to the south end of the island and dropped us off as our hotel.

The second you arrive in the resort area, you are almost overwhelmed by the density of hotels and condos which dominate the area. Interspersed throughout are an endless number of restaurants, shops, hair salons, tattoo parlors, etc. Think of Daytona Beach on steroids and you have some idea of Tenerife. After checking in and dumping my bag in my room, I went in search of internet and found a pretty good connection -- in what I have become familiar with as a pretty typical joint -- which I used for a considerable amount of time to check email, post a massive website update and download some podcasts, then had a late dinner in the “no additional charge” hotel buffet and called it a night. On Sunday, the group went on a bus tour of Tenerife which I skipped. After my last experience in Cape Verde, I just didn’t trust that it was going to be any good. Besides, I had a ton of stuff to do on the web and needed all the time I could get to catch up after six weeks of practically no online time. Thus, I spent the entire day back at the internet joint. I think the attendant was surprised at the length of time I was there because he kept giving me pained expressions and saying “mucho trabaho!” Its interesting to have people feel sorry for you when you are actually having fun. After a productive day, I treated myself to dinner at one of the many street side restaurants which I chose, I must admit, because of the fairly attractive young woman who was singing -- on key! -- some songs I could recognize. The food turned out to be pretty mediocre, but it was nice to have some live entertainment for a change.

On Monday I walked around until I found a fairly large, reputable looking travel agency and enlisted the help of Vini -- a nice young woman of Indian ancestry -- to make arrangements for my transit to and across Spain. From there it was back to the internet joint for a few more hours of online time, then back to the hotel for the night. Although Tenerife is a beach resort, I never actually went to the beach! For me, it was just a another crazy place with internet. Yesterday, because I had gotten pretty well caught up on Voyage stuff, I decided to re-join the group for a day trip to the small island of La Gomera. A bus ride to the port and a short ferry ride later, we boarded another bus for our day tour which, of course, consisted mostly of driving up into the hills, stopping for viewpoints and a brief visit inside the national park. The island is actually quite pretty and I can imagine spending some time there to walk some of the many trails inside the park. On the other hand, it looks like the trails all go through the same kind of terrain so it could get pretty boring. In other words, if you ever decide to visit the Canary Islands you would probably do well to spend a day or two on Gomera as a chance to stretch your legs while getting away from the resort milieu... But that’s about it. We had lunch at a tourist restaurant which featured a pretty bland meal that was made somewhat more satisfactory by the side show of “Gomera Whistling” -- of which I got some decent video that I will edit into a Report soon. From there, it took a few more roadside viewpoint stops to make our way back to the port for the ferry ride back to Tenerife. All in all, the bus tour was about as usual, but I enjoyed it more than I would have spending another day in Tenerife.

This morning I went back to see Vini to pick up a train ticket we had ordered, only to find that it had not been delivered from the office that handles train tickets. She said she was very sorry and would go get it, promising to be back in a few minutes. I asked if I could go with her and, after a moment of obvious surprise that I would want to spend my time running an errand, we got her car and went to the other office. There was some confusion about my ticket, but in due course it was sorted out and I ended up with all the proper documentation for my upcoming sprint to Barcelona. Thanks, Vini for all your help! After that, I stopped at the internet joint for a few minutes then made my way back to the hotel where I recycled a couple of books at the “guest bookshelf.” I traded in two pretty good novels for two pretty bad ones -- it’s amazing the crap people read on vacation -- but I at least have new stuff to read at no additional cost! At noon I gathered up my stuff and checked out then met the rest of the group for the bus/ferry/bus ride here to Las Palmas on Gran Canaria.

After checking in to the Hotel Parque, I met up with Betty -- who skipped the Tenerife tour in favor of staying on board Polar Star -- to retrieve my duffel bag which she was kind enough to bring over from the ship. I went for a brief walk around town then me Betty, Ross and Regula -- two other “good people” from the crossing cruise -- for dinner. In a moment I will go downstairs and try out the hotel’s internet to post this Logbook entry. I have tomorrow on my own here in Las Palmas, then Friday I take a day/night/day ferry to Cadiz, Spain where I will stay for two nights before catching an overnight train to Barcelona. Obviously, I have opted to blow right through Spain in favor of getting to the South of France as soon as possible. This is because, frankly, I have previously spent plenty of time in Spain and don’t particularly care for it. Besides, I have now been in Hispanic countries for about six months and, well, I’m ready for a change. Looking back at how I have spent the past five days in the Canary Islands I could say I haven’t really given them a fair shake. Then again, I could say I’ve given them what they deserve. I’m going with Option B on The Voyage of Macgellan!

Report: Gomera Whistling

During my tour of La Gomera in the Canary Islands, we stopped at Las Rosas restaurant for lunch and a demonstration of Gomera Whistling -- a communications system that was developed and used on the island prior to the introduction of the telephone. This was easily the highlight of the tour and a little something different that I think you will find very interesting from The Voyage of Macgellan!

Logbook: Cape Verde

I had my Wednesday morning coffee as we cruised into the small archipelago that is Cape Verde. My first impression of the dry, barren islands was not very positive and I said to myself, “I don’t think this is a place for me.” Looking at the hot, dusty landscape and the poor, ramshackle collection of half-built dwellings, I was tempted to skip the half-day tour on our itinerary, stay on board to hang out with the crew and join them in whatever spontaneous fun they would create. As it turned out, I should have -- as always -- followed my instincts, but I decided to be a dutiful explorer and give the tour -- and the islands -- a chance. Here is what happened: We took the Zodiacs ashore and landed at the dock in Porto Novo then boarded three mini-vans to begin our tour. The main road on the island is a two-lane, cobblestone monument to what you can build in ten years when you have plenty of human labor and no other available work. No kidding! The road goes for miles and miles, winding up and around the mountainous landscape, at times traversing the ridge line between peaks.

After driving at breakneck speed for about a half hour, we stopped to look from the heights down onto the clouds which covered the other side of the island. Ten minutes later we were back in the vans and screaming along the road for another half hour until we stopped again to view an agricultural area -- and one of only a very few sources of drinking water on the island -- in the basin of what appeared to me to be a volcanic caldera. Again, ten minutes later we were back in the vans and racing down hill to a small town where -- twenty minutes later -- we made a ten minute rest stop. I tried to buy a cold drink at the mini-mart but was unable to use dollars (or euros!) and didn’t have time to change money at the bank. So, back in the van again we drove a few miles down the coast to stop at a “grog factory” which was supposedly one of the highlights of our tour. I half laughed, half groaned when we entered the factory and saw nothing but a couple of cows yoked to a beam that turned a press that squeezed the juice from sugar cane into a concrete cistern in the ground. Oh, and there was a woman standing at a table with bottles of every conceivable shape, size, condition and product trademark full of foul looking liquor. No thanks. Ten minutes later we were back in the vans and racing non-stop, all the way back across the island to the port where we had thirty minutes to “walk around” in a dead-zone of the aforementioned “poor, ramshackle collection of half-built dwellings.” Oh, and let me add that during the entire tour there was only one half-English-speaking guide who changed vans at every stop and explained nothing of interest or value about the island.

My frustration about spending half of the four hour tour riding in a van and the other half making short, dumb stops was compounded when I got back to the ship and asked the crew what they did: “Oh, we went ashore and walked around until we found a market, goofed around with some locals, got some beer and snacks then went to the beach for a swim, some sun and silly water games.” Macgellan is an idiot. I know better than to go along on “tours” and I was mad at myself for not following my instincts. Really mad at myself. So mad, in fact, that I had to give myself a little talking to and get my head straight again.

With that accomplished, I settled back into my onboard routine and spent the evening enjoying life at sea. Yesterday and today have been days at sea en route to the Canary Islands, my last aboard MV Polar Star and probably my last for the next few months. I have packed up my gear, said my farewells to the crew and other friends on board, and generally gotten myself ready to get moving again. Oh, I also had a brief meeting with Gary to let him know that although I will be along for the pre-paid ferry ride and hotel stay in Tenerife, I will most likely not be going on any of the group tours over the next three days. Wise man that he is, he was not at all surprised. The learning curve continues on The Voyage of Macgellan!

Logbook: Equator Crossing

Saturday was a day at sea, highlighted by an equator crossing ceremony that almost defies description. The staff and some of the crew went all out, dressing up to play parts as King Neptune, Queen Neptuna, the Royal Daughter, pirates, mermaids and others. In true sea going tradition, the captain was seized by pirates and forced to kneel before King Neptune to beg permission to cross the equator and to have “polywogs” -- anyone who has not sailed across the equator before -- initiated into the ranks of “shellbacks.” In due course, permission was granted then a half dozen polywogs were brought before the King and Queen, anointed with raw eggs, made to drink a foul potion and splashed with a nasty yellow concoction of the chef’s creation. When the passengers had been initiated, it came to our attention that Chef Paul -- who was doing an excellent job as a mermaid in drag -- had never been initiated! He begged forgiveness for trying to “slip by” and then got completely hammered by everybody with double doses of everything.

As often happens in these kinds of things, chaos ensued and the ceremony degenerated into a cross between a food fight and a mud wrestling match. When ammo and energy had been depleted, the ABs hosed everybody down, the deck was cleaned and a barbecue commenced. It was an excellent ceremony and proof that small ships have big fun. Because I had already been initiated, I did my part to dress up as a pirate extra by letting my beard grow, donning a bandana over my head, and wearing a pair of big, pirate-style hoop earrings that I borrowed from one of the girls. Because all of the staff was in the production, I volunteered to be the photographer and did my best to catch as much as I could in the fast moving free for all. When it was over, I did a quick mash-up of a movie which I showed on the big screen after the barbecue. Even though it was a pretty rough edit, everyone enjoyed it and more than one person was surprised how quickly I was able to put it together. All I could say, as always, was “Macs Rule!”

Sunday morning we awoke to the sight of St. Peter and St. Paul Rocks, a tiny cluster of rocks -- actually the tips of mid-ocean mountains -- in the middle of the Atlantic. Our itinerary listed the possibility of a Zodiac landing, but sea conditions made that impossible. So, the captain made several circuits around the formation to view fishing boats, spinner dolphins and waves crashing against the rocks. It was a brief but very worthwhile little excursion, and the Photos pretty much tell the story. From there we set sail on a northeasterly course and have spent the past two days steaming into higher latitudes and -- thankfully -- cooler climates. I have spent most of my time at sea in the usual way, doing some iLife, editing a couple of Reports, etc.

Because my time on Polar Star will be coming to an end this weekend, I have also begun the process of sorting and packing my gear. It’s funny how even my small amount of stuff has gotten spread out and chaotic in my little cabin! This is by far the longest I have been in any one place for the past eight months and I have taken advantage of it by being decadent in my disarray. As I have packed up my cold weather and storm gear, organized my Mac stuff and begun to put it in order, I have a sense of movement. It is a good feeling and -- although my time on Polar Star has been very good in almost every way -- I will be ready to “go solo” again. We will make a stop in Cape Verde tomorrow then have two more days at sea before we reach the Canary Islands and make a three day excursion by bus and ferry to various islands there. After that, I will need to spend some quality time figuring out the next phase of The Voyage because I will have completely run out of planning, arrangements, etc. With any luck, there will be good internet in the Canaries... See what I mean? My mind is getting back into “go mode” on The Voyage of Macgellan!

Logbook: Brazil

Those of you who have been along on The Voyage for a while may recall my “Brazil Visa Gambit” back in December wherein I spent three days -- not to mention the $100 fee! -- in Costa Rica getting my Brazil Visa in anticipation of landing there yesterday. Well, I can now report the net result of that effort as follows: I woke up early yesterday morning and did my usual routine. With coffee in hand I went to the bridge, looked off the port beam and was a bit shocked to see miles and miles of coastal beaches backed up by miles and miles of high-rise condo/apartment buildings. After being at sea for ten days, the sight of land alone would have been novel enough. This was just astonishing. Recife, Brazil looks like the coast of Florida somewhere around Miami or Ft. Lauderdale! Anyway, I recovered enough to have breakfast and be ready to hit the streets as soon as we cleared customs -- yes, my visa passed muster -- at about 9 o’clock. Although our expedition included a morning tour of Recife, I was so desperate to get online and try to finish/fix my website update that I told Gary I was going to bail on the tour -- which involved visiting a lot of old churches -- and find an internet connection. I think he was a little nervous about me being on my own, but he just said, “Make sure you’re back at the ship by 12:45... We sail at 1:00 and don’t want to leave without you.” I promised I would, got their tour guide to tell a cab driver the location of a nearby internet cafe and we went our separate ways.

My cab driver spoke no English -- nor, apparently, any of my dialect of Spanish -- so we used single words and hand signals to communicate. A five minute drive took us to the location he’d been told about, but we couldn’t find the cafe. We laughed when he asked a bunch of guys standing on a corner about internet connection and got nothing but shrugs. With the clock ticking -- the “time available for internet” clock that is -- I tried a Plan B and said, “Holiday Inn?” in the assumption that my old stand-by would have internet. He perked up, nodded his head, said something like “Yes” and off we roared... to just about the other end of the city of Recife! After a wild ride we pulled up at the Holiday Inn where I paid him $10 US for the fare and went inside. “Yes, we have internet. No, you can’t use it unless you have a room with us.” Okay, Plan C. “Yes, there is an internet cafe down the street.” Great! Walked down the street. Nope, that cafe wasn’t open yet. Walked around the corner... Yes! An open internet place! Went in, mimed “wi-fi?” and got a connection. By then it was about 10 o’clock and I really had to hustle. One by one I posted the videos that I couldn’t upload in Ushuaia, then had barely enough time to reply to a few priority emails and make just a couple of quick Skypes. At exactly noon I paid for my time -- $5 US -- and ran outside to hail a cab. I found one around the corner at a convenience store, and after several rounds of pretty comical communication got a $10 US white knuckle ride back to the port.

At 12:30 I ran up to the security gate with my passport copy in hand, flashed it to a guard who shrugged like he couldn’t care less then continued on my way the length of the dock and bounded up the gangway at exactly 12:40. Whew! Rita saw me and said -- as always in here lovely Hungarian accent -- “You are the first one back!” I stood on deck for a few minutes then pointed at my watch when Gary and the gang returned at 12:50 which gave us all one more good laugh. A few minutes later, a van arrived with about 15 new passengers -- almost all American -- and embarkation commenced. I had gotten so happily accustomed to the peace and quiet of an almost empty ship that the subsequent ado prompted me to go hide out in the ship’s library. Shortly after one o’clock we set sail, had a welcome briefing and a lifeboat drill, then dinner, etc. Betty and I sat together throughout and alternately bemoaned the loss of our “private yacht!”

We sailed overnight and all this morning to Fernando de Noronha -- a lush, green island that I had never heard of -- a few hundred miles off the Brazilian coast. Our itinerary was to include a full-day tour of the island, but sea currents -- and perhaps a little bit of error in calculating distance when the expedition was planned -- prevented our beloved but not very swift Polar Star from reaching the island until about noon. We took Zodiacs ashore, boarded a typical island tour boat and set off for an hour long cruise down the coast to a beach where we were to swim with dolphins. Of course, the time for dolphins is early in the morning so we only saw a few of them along the way -- and none at the beach -- but we got to swim for about 20 minutes before we made the hour long cruise back to the town dock. There, we boarded some funky little buggy vehicles and drove to a place for sandwiches, a lecture on local wildlife conservation projects and, of course, some shopping!

From there it was a short drive to a viewpoint overlooking a turtle-spawning beach, then another short drive to another such beach. What happened next was troubling to me. We were met by a naturalist who explained that a turtle nest had “erupted” the night before, with most of the baby turtles making their way to the sea. Now, they were going to dig up the nest and “release” whatever baby turtles might still be there. So, while we looked on, they dug up the nest, found about 100 baby turtles, measured them, put them in a box and then released them en masse for our amusement. I will admit that it was fun to see the little guys make their mad dash to the sea, but I’ve got a funny feeling about it. I wonder if it is such a good idea to dig up and release -- let alone measure for scientific purposes -- the turtles that don’t, can’t or won’t dig their own way out. Doesn’t that amount to interfering with the natural selection process? It is the same kind of concern I had back in the Galapagos: Is this “helping” the species? Or, is this “preservation science” for the sake of tourist dollars. I don’t know, but I’m troubled.

Anyway, by the time the turtle show was over the sun was setting so we all returned to the ship for dinner and a prompt departure from the island. My time in Brazil has amounted to a hectic morning on-line in Recife and a troubling afternoon in Noronha. Upon reflection, I’m not sure the time, effort and expense of my “Brazil Visa Gambit” was worth it. I might have been better off staying on board, hiding from the customs man and taking a swim off the back of the ship. That’s what the crew did, and all evidence indicates they had a lot of fun. As in most other ways of life, sometimes “less can be more” on The Voyage of Macgellan!

Report: Run Yertle Run

During our stop in Fernando de Noronha we visited a turtle conservation area. Here is my Report. (Thanks yet again to Stephen Jacob for another fabulous piece of music -- I wish I knew what the name of it is!)