TRAVEL BLOG 4

March 8 – 12

March 8: Natal

Natal, which in Portuguese means Christmas, is the capital and largest city of the state of Río Grande do Norte, very close to the eastern-most tip of Brazil. I’m attaching a photo of our itinerary to illustrate Natal’s position on the map.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think I can best describe to you how exciting Natal was for us (not!) by telling you that, besides its many sandy beaches, the thing this city is best known for, is the maior cajueiro do mundo, the biggest cashew tree in the world (yawn). We were told that it’s actually in the Guinness book of world records.

But Ed and I seem to easily entertain each other and ourselves when tourist attractions fail to fascinate us. This time, a quirky incident during one of our shore excursions made for a great conversation afterward. We had been observing a very large woman who consistently made her way to the front of the line and onto the front seat of the transport vehicles. She wore large, imposing dark glasses. Her shrill voice could often be heard above the others. And her considerable bulk seemed to exude dominance and entitlement. We’ll call her Ms. I-Deserve-It.

One of the bathroom stops along the way required a dollar to enter. Ed and I were standing near the entrance when we spotted Ms. I-D-I marching toward us.

“What?!” she yelled at the Brazilian lady who tried to explain the bathroom fee of $1 in broken English. Hands on her generous hips, she added, “I don’t have any change.”

When the hostess still didn’t open the door for her, she turned to us. “Can you give me a dollar so I can use the bathroom?”

Ed handed her a dollar bill and she strode into bathroom without even a thank you.

“I know. You hate entitlement,” Ed said before I could sputter out the words.

This prompted a lengthy discussion later in the day about entitlement, the belief some people seem to have that they deserve special treatment. Knowing very well how plugged-in I get about people who grab special privileges for themselves as though these are somehow their inherent right, Ed said to me, “You know, some level of entitlement seems like it’d be healthy. You know, a belief that you’re worthy of good in your life, that sort of thing. Part of your self-esteem?”

Our conversation then turned to the reasons why some people convey such an inflated sense of entitlement. It occurred to me that this behavior might not bother me as much as it does if I thought of it as compensating for the opposite of its manifestation: a fundamental lack of self-esteem.

The conversation (which Ed and I have had numerous times before meeting Ms. I-D-I) provoked enough thoughts and ideas that we’ve decided to write an essay on the topic. So thank you, Ms. I-D-I!

Oh, and as an aside, we’ve passed Ms. I-D-I numerous times on the ship since then, and she consistently fails to acknowledge that she’s ever seen us before. Of course, we never got our dollar back.

March 9: At Sea

The best part of the next day at sea was getting through at least the rudiments of one-third of the new Chen 36 tai chi moves we’re trying to learn as our ship dips and sways.

We also enjoyed a tour of the ship’s galley today led by the executive chef himself. He is Dutch and seems to have a very limited sense of humor. We imagined that it would not be fun to be caught making a mistake in his galley.

We were struck by how labor-intensive and manual the kitchen processes were. According to what he told us, the executive chef and his Number One each leads one of two kitchens that each provide food for one side of the main restaurant (there are other kitchens for the remaining three restaurants). The two of them personally read all of the 400+ ticket orders that come in from the restaurant. Each sous chef listens to and prepares the orders pertaining to his station (sic).

He told us there were no woman chefs on this ship, to which I said to the executive chef, “Shame on you.”

“It is not our fault,” he said, without smiling. “There is more turnover among women chefs than among men. I don’t know why.”

I wanted to tell him that I suspected why. Maybe they weren’t taken as seriously as their male counterparts? Maybe worse…But I bit my tongue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

March 10: Fortaleza

We were supposed to dock in Recife, but learned that there was insufficient fuel in that port for us, so our Captain made an executive decision to change the itinerary and take us to Fortaleza instead. The photo above of our itinerary shows the change. I was sorry to miss Recife since we recently learned that our cousin Dwight had spent some time there. It would have been fun to compare notes.

Our ship was scheduled to dock at 6:30 a.m. in Fortaleza. We were awakened by the Captain’s voice booming from our stateroom speakers.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. I apologize for the early announcement, but I have an unfortunate update for you.”

He proceeded to tell us that the port where we were attempting to dock was not up to the ship’s safety standards. Apparently, the ocean swell was so high that our ship, moored sideways, was bouncing off the dock, causing the gangway plank to slide up to two meters back and forth. Unfortunately, we had no choice but to stop here since we were low on fuel. The captain informed us that he was delaying disembarkation until he could put several safety measures in place. In the end, he used a tugboat to run at full throttle, pushing the ship against the dock. Our ship’s own engines also ran all day, with a full bridge crew kept on duty. Extra crew helped people disembark and re-embark.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later that morning, we watched the executive chef personally unload an entire truckload of produce and other food items. He handed each box to a man standing on the ground, and the items were then transferred assembly-line-style from man to man up the swinging gangway to deck 5 of our ship.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fortaleza has about 25 kilometers of urban beaches that look a lot like Miami Beach. Little wonder that Miami Beach is Fortaleza’s sister city!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

March 11:  At Sea

Today we attended “the galley lunch” we’ve been hearing about for days. It was definitely one of the big foodie events of the trip.

A crewmember oversaw the hand washing stations, which we were instructed to utilize each time we entered the galley. We made one round to inspect the feast and take photos. Buffets of every cuisine you can imagine were set up elaborately on the many counters of the ship’s galley. Whole pig. Whole salmon. Sushi. Towers of desserts that looked much too ornate to destroy by actually cutting into them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then we washed hands again and came back around to taste the delicacies. Waiters handed us plates and we toured the galley, choosing what we wished to eat, and returning to a restaurant table with our food. The vegetable curry was my favorite. It rivaled any curry I’ve eaten in India. Ed loved the lobster risotto. But what we both enjoyed the most was the gala energy with which the crew created and presented the event. At the end of the meal, all of the cooking and serving staff paraded around the restaurant to boisterous cheers and applause. I spotted the hotel manager (in charge of all aspects of hospitality on the ship) standing toward the back of the hall, a satisfied smile on his face.

March 12:  Crossing the Equator

Today we crossed the equator into the northern hemisphere, soon to turn southwesterly again to head into the Amazon, thus again crossing the equator into the south. See map above. The Captain informed us that from Fortaleza to the northernmost point, before making the 90-degree left turn into the Amazon, the depth of the ocean below the keel goes down from over 60 meters to just about one meter. He indicated the need to reduce the ship’s speed significantly in order to be able to navigate in such shallow waters.

At 2:30 this afternoon, as we were crossing the equator for the first time, we witnessed a time-honored historical tradition of navies from around the world, called the ceremony of “crossing the line.” It commemorates sailors’ first crossing of the equator. Originally, the tradition was created as a test for seasoned sailors to ensure that their new shipmates were capable of handling long, rough times at sea. Sailors who had already crossed the equator were nicknamed Trusty Shellbacks, also referred to as the Sons of Neptune. Those sailors who had not were called Slimy Polliwogs. A grueling rite of passage ceremony was carried out to appease King Neptune, the mythological god of the seas.

The ceremony enacted on deck 9 at 2:30 today featured The First Officer as King Neptune and his next-in-line officer as his queen. Even the Captain played a role in the ceremony. Executive chef Kurt appeared carrying a live whole salmon, which the polliwogs had to kiss before being pushed into the pool.

At lunch, a retired navy officer sitting to our right described the historical ceremony, which was taken very seriously in his day. “They’ve stolen it from the navy and trivialized it,” he said, his lips curling down with disdain.