Thursday, March 17, 2011
My computer still believes
it is the 16th. Maybe it is,
somewhere, but here it is St. Patrick’s Day.
Green beer will be served upon request only (It seems the Irish don’t
like it; although, they do like the NYC St. Patrick’s Day parade), and the
Irish are gathering for a special dinner tonight.
Coffee cups honoring the
marriage of Andrew and Kate have appeared in the gift shop.
The terrible news from
Japan continues, and while that is not my subject, it seems wrong not to note
it. It is devastation so complete as to
be nearly incomprehensible.
We are on the island Koh
Samui, basically a beach area, and John will go beaching. Not my thing, and besides, I am debating
staying on the ship and breathing the filtered air. I was told at breakfast that this is not a
polluted area—at least in the air.
However, at noon the
island disappears, rain streaks the windows, the ship rocks a little, and the
captain announces he will reposition the ship and meanwhile tender operations
will be closed down temporarily. I think
of my husband and his soggy beach day, stuck there on the island. Perhaps there is a good bar hide in. Suitable entertainment on St. Patrick’s Day.
The ship is repositioned,
and I see sunlight someplace. If I go up
and exercise, I can look for a rainbow.
That, alas, is as good as exercise gets.
But the rain returns; there is no rainbow, and no one will be allowed
off the ship. All the tenders will
retrieve passengers as fast as possible.
I can imagine the lines. Think
fifteen hundred wet people ashore, hundreds of them in the lines.
I go to get a
massage. John returns reporting the
waves were too high for swimming, but he sunned while he could, wandered the
town and endured the lines for bus and tender.
There will no doubt be sunning and swimming tomorrow on the ship. In this great big world, this is all very
trivial, but that is the essence of a cruise.
Nothing but the trivial.
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