Monday, December 26, 2005
Navimag Cruise, Chile
We are fresh off the boat. This morning we docked in Puerto Montt after a three-day, four-night cruise through the Chilean fjords. It was a strange feeling to debark with our packs on our backs and our legs on dry land. We´d gotten used to the constant tilt of the boat;plus, we had to say good-bye to all the friends we´d made.
Our cruise was not a luxury cruise. We were not on the Love Boat. We were on a Navimag boat, an industrial ferry, and we had the ripe smell of livestock to prove it. Three semi-trailers of cows were parked on the bottom, back deck and on Christmas day, rumor had it a horse gave birth in the cargo hold. Yet as the boat clipped along and the wind blew, the smell drifted into the wake and far behind. Well, most of the time.
But we gave little thought to the cattle on board. We were busy eating and talking and eating and playing chess and eating and talking and eating. And we took our share of naps. There were about 250 passengers on board, plus a crew. We even had an activities director named Macarena. For the most part, we felt like we were at camp.
Because Quang and I went "third-class", we slept in cubby-hole bunk beds among a bunch of other cubby-hole bunk beds. We stored our packs in lockers. We shared a dorm-style bathroom. We ate in a cafeteria and carried our food to tables on plastic, blue trays which we bussed to a window when we were done.
When we weren´t eating, we were making friends. Quang scouted out the other chess players and soon a tight circle of men were vying to "play the winner". It turns out chess is a universal language. Even though all the players all didn´t speak the same language, this group of men could often be found huddled around a chess board wringing their hands. According to Quang, there were many "intense" moments.
And soon, more than "men" were playing the game. I even gave it a whirl. I played "team" style with Ali from LA. We discussed our moves in whispers before making a move. Kids got into the spirit, too. And why not? Outside, a monster chess board was painted on the top deck. The sun was shining. One day, the fjords seemed close enough to touch; another day they glimmered in the distance.
Neither Quang or I had ever seen a fjord. We weren´t exactly sure what to expect and the first day of our cruise, we didn´t find out. It rained on day one. Fog moved in and kept the scenery a secret. The rain kept everyone inside the boat.
On day two, we woke to sun and fjords. We were sailing through a flooded mountain range. The fjords were mountain tops; our boat creeped through the water-filled valleys. The mountain tops, the fjords, were sometimes massive and tall. Other times they resembled small islands. The highest were snow-covered; the shortest were tree-covered. Several times, while sitting in the cafeteria, we looked out the windows on both sides and saw nothing but rock. The boat was creeping through narrow passes.
By the afternoon of day two, which was Christmas Eve, we were sailing through the Golfo de Penas, the Gulf of Sorrows. The boat was leaning high and low, causing Quang and I to reach for motion sickness pills. By that evening, however, we´d adjusted. Disco music was blarring from the pub and we danced, swaying with the rocking waves. When it got too hot inside the pub, we ventured out to the deck for fresh air and an endless view of a cloudless, black sky. The Milky Way spilled across the night and we stood mute taking in a view we´d only seen before in a science text book.
Christmas Day, day three on board, brought a blue-filled sky and calm, shimmering blue water all around. It also brought Bingo night in the pub, and I won the very first game and a fuzzy hat.
And now that we are off the boat and back on our own, we want to wish a big hello to Paul and Daniel and Phil and Ali and Yael and Enrique and all the chess men. May all your travels be good!
Our cruise was not a luxury cruise. We were not on the Love Boat. We were on a Navimag boat, an industrial ferry, and we had the ripe smell of livestock to prove it. Three semi-trailers of cows were parked on the bottom, back deck and on Christmas day, rumor had it a horse gave birth in the cargo hold. Yet as the boat clipped along and the wind blew, the smell drifted into the wake and far behind. Well, most of the time.
But we gave little thought to the cattle on board. We were busy eating and talking and eating and playing chess and eating and talking and eating. And we took our share of naps. There were about 250 passengers on board, plus a crew. We even had an activities director named Macarena. For the most part, we felt like we were at camp.
Because Quang and I went "third-class", we slept in cubby-hole bunk beds among a bunch of other cubby-hole bunk beds. We stored our packs in lockers. We shared a dorm-style bathroom. We ate in a cafeteria and carried our food to tables on plastic, blue trays which we bussed to a window when we were done.
When we weren´t eating, we were making friends. Quang scouted out the other chess players and soon a tight circle of men were vying to "play the winner". It turns out chess is a universal language. Even though all the players all didn´t speak the same language, this group of men could often be found huddled around a chess board wringing their hands. According to Quang, there were many "intense" moments.
And soon, more than "men" were playing the game. I even gave it a whirl. I played "team" style with Ali from LA. We discussed our moves in whispers before making a move. Kids got into the spirit, too. And why not? Outside, a monster chess board was painted on the top deck. The sun was shining. One day, the fjords seemed close enough to touch; another day they glimmered in the distance.
Neither Quang or I had ever seen a fjord. We weren´t exactly sure what to expect and the first day of our cruise, we didn´t find out. It rained on day one. Fog moved in and kept the scenery a secret. The rain kept everyone inside the boat.
On day two, we woke to sun and fjords. We were sailing through a flooded mountain range. The fjords were mountain tops; our boat creeped through the water-filled valleys. The mountain tops, the fjords, were sometimes massive and tall. Other times they resembled small islands. The highest were snow-covered; the shortest were tree-covered. Several times, while sitting in the cafeteria, we looked out the windows on both sides and saw nothing but rock. The boat was creeping through narrow passes.
By the afternoon of day two, which was Christmas Eve, we were sailing through the Golfo de Penas, the Gulf of Sorrows. The boat was leaning high and low, causing Quang and I to reach for motion sickness pills. By that evening, however, we´d adjusted. Disco music was blarring from the pub and we danced, swaying with the rocking waves. When it got too hot inside the pub, we ventured out to the deck for fresh air and an endless view of a cloudless, black sky. The Milky Way spilled across the night and we stood mute taking in a view we´d only seen before in a science text book.
Christmas Day, day three on board, brought a blue-filled sky and calm, shimmering blue water all around. It also brought Bingo night in the pub, and I won the very first game and a fuzzy hat.
And now that we are off the boat and back on our own, we want to wish a big hello to Paul and Daniel and Phil and Ali and Yael and Enrique and all the chess men. May all your travels be good!
