On day #9 of our Trans-Atlantic adventure, lunch was a hot dog prior to stepping off the boat for a tour of hot, humid Recife – the furthest east point of South America. It has Dutch and Jewish influences but most of the old buildings are under construction or in need of repair. Our tour guide spoke broken English and we somehow got separated from the group, joined another, and prematurely returned to the Viking shuttle bus. It was frankly a relief to leave Recife. A nap, shower, Indian themed dinner at the Chef’s Table, and a poor ABBA performance sent us to bed early. While we slept, the Viking Jupiter started its voyage across the Atlantic.
Day #10 also marked my 10th week of recovery. I was craving a cheeseburger from the Pool Grill. Paradise, for me, was sitting on our deck in the sunshine with nothing to see but Sea. Dinner for me was another steak at The Restaurant. Violinist, Jakub Trasak, warmed up with Devil Came Down from Georgia and proceeded to WOW us with his string skills. Day 11 Walking the corridors of the ship has become my latest routine. Nine floors up and nine floors down to the morning lecture, where this morning I played on the phone, ignoring information on selecting the best binoculars for birdwatching. Next on the agenda were the somewhat silly Equator-crossing ceremonies, featuring our cruise director as King Neptune. Lunch at The Restaurant began the numerous birthday salutes to our Decatur friend. The clock moved forward an hour for the 2nd of five times before my wife and I sat in on “The Stars Above Us” presentation in the ship’s unique observatory, one of only three in existence. We enjoyed similar talks on the Viking Orion during our Alaska travels. Birthday cocktails continued at Pap’s in the Explorer Lounge and throughout dinner at our favorite, Manfredi’s. Chocolate cake, along with the rich diet and wine sent me to bed on a sugar high that disturbed my sleep all night long.
Day #12 began with clock confusion and sore shoulders from incision discomfort. I discovered in the midst of my morning walk that it was an hour later than what our phones indicated. I woke up my wife for her scheduled cooking class, and then struggled with lectures about NATO and Mass Extinctions between walks. Despite my continued weight gain, belly flab, and sour stomach, I somehow still had a lunch appetite. The afternoon called for a walk, a nap, and the documentary, Free Solo. Dinner was in The Restaurant, but just before we enjoyed the guitar and vocals of Paolo Polan and another impressive set of James Taylor hits.
Day #13 was not unlucky and a Good Friday. “Land Ahoy” loomed ahead and a third time change. I walked, read, ate and drank as usual. Paolo played by the pool and Jakob fiddled around as a night cap.
A full two weeks on the boat and I literally fell out of bed to start the day. Fortunately, I did nothing more than bump my head on the nightstand. We were docked for the day in Sao Vincente, off the coast of Africa. Busses took us to the peak of the island on twisting, bone jarring, cobblestone roads. Ponch, the local liquor was served by the beach, almost as a reward, once we rumbled down from the mountain. The guide proudly pointed out their soccer stadium. My wife and I then relaxed on the stern deck as the ship pulled away from the city of Mindelo just before sunset, had a cocktail in the Explorer Lounge as we headed back into Atlantic waters, and wined & dined at The Restaurant, as usual. I did get a brief glimpse of the sun through the powerful on-board solar telescope, but it appeared to be just a red ball in the sky. Mind Reader, Marc Paul, wowed us with his stage act.
The Easter Bunny apparently couldn’t find us in the Atlantic approaching Morocco, but there was a chocolate treat in our stateroom from the crew. Another time change, the fourth of five, has us all confused. I walked the hallways as the ship rocked, weaving along as if drunk. It’s the final day of March and I managed to reach 90 total miles, after just 28 and 18 respectively in January and February due to surgery. Presentations on Submarines and Weightlessness filled the time between the buffet and more formal Restaurant dinner. Tim Abel performed, Liberace style, on the piano. Good Night.
April Fool’s Day #16 and we remain just off the coast of Africa approaching the Tropic of Cancer and Canary Islands. Six days on the ship remain, including 2 docked in Barcelona. The rocking and rolling continues as I navigate the narrow corridors. Another load of laundry was in order after a lecture on “Majestic Celestial Ballets” regarding the upcoming Solar Eclipse, an event that we will miss while continuing our travels on this side of the Earth. We did visit the stars later, after dinner, a sparkling blanket on a clear night. The lights of the Canary Islands were in the distance as we passed by. Too much red wine and rich foods made for a miserable night’s sleep.
Day #17 began with a series of walks. Pauses in between for sips of decaf coffee, a bad habit I’ve picked up on this voyage. It’s certainly not the bad taste in my mouth that is attractive, but the warmth of the cup is comforting. My wife hates both the smell and taste, but the Coke Light is not satisfying. There is a cooking demonstration before lunch and I was running behind this morning, so no lectures to fill my pre-lunch schedule. Yesterday, the movie, “Everything Elsewhere All At Once” filled the bill of sea-day boredom. The scale is not my friend as I persist in trying to get a reading between wave swells that occasionally vary up to fifteen pounds from low to high. Could I have possibly gained that much weight? My gut and expanding waistline both tend to agree.
Continued …
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