Goodbye FaceBook

A brief explanation for my having left Facebook, in case anyone even noticed. Actually, I haven't really left. I deactivated my page and created another hidden from everyone for one reason. I administrate another FaceBook page for a local organization and to continue administrating that page required that I continue to have a personal FaceBook page. It did not require that my personal page be public, only that it exist.

So, why did I abandon my public page? Good question. FaceBook is a tremendously popular medium for communication between friends, family and especially people you might not hear from at all if it didn't exist.

But I came to believe it also to be addictive and that it has contributed to an unhealthy freedom for folks to speak in ways they would never were they face to face with many of those who read some of their remarks. A lack of awareness of boundaries, of space seems to have disappeared too often in the world and is never more obvious sometimes than in the comments and postings on FaceBook.

Many of my FaceBook friends were students or former students from my elementary school, some as young as 10 years old. It was important to me, as a teacher, to keep the content and discourse on my page civil and safe for those children I knew were watching. Despite my occasional pleas on my page to please think of the children, too often I would discover entries I would need to hide and the habits of some even necessitated I unfriend them.

The last straw was when a "friend" I had asked not to use inappropriate language on my page continued to and I was forced to unfriend him, he began a series of abusive messages which were rude, mean and foul. He was angry that I was attempting to censor people, an accusation that, as far as the content on my page was concerned, was absolutely true. But even more important I was trying to encourage a civil discourse. I did not respond to his venomous comments but they continued. I reported his abuses to the FaceBook authorities but I had had enough.

It was a combination of things really. Everything I have mentioned above plus my concern that I just spent too much time on the site and began to realize that all that time kept me from being more active in other ways arguably more productive. So, the decision.

I am very concerned that some friends, including those I had actually re-discovered on FaceBook, might disappear from my life again. I am not quite sure what to do about that yet. E-mail and the telephone are certainly options. I am encouraging that. I don't know what I'll do exactly yet but I know that reactivating my old account just isn't an option.

An Okie Returns to Oklahoma--My 48th State!

I dropped Leslie off at the Sheraton Hotel in Dallas, Texas, the site of the 2013 national convention of the American Choral Conductor's Association. She has attended these biennial gatherings for many, many years. I've tagged along on parts of a couple of them over the years, the last being in L.A. where her choir from Western Washington University was invited to sing. It was an incredible experience to sit in an audience of her peers when they gave her and her choir a rousing standing ovation.

But today, I was headed north to visit another state I had never been to--Oklahoma. I am especially interested in visiting Oklahoma because my mother's side of the family left during the Dust Bowl era. My mother was born there and her parents, my grandparents, left there with my infant mother around 1936, having suffered through years of dust storms, loosing their farm and heading to California as a part of the Okie rush to the promised land of California. 

As I crossed the Oklahoma border, I noticed a visitor's center and pulled off I-35 to pick up some brochures and a map. I was greeted by a lovely women who chatted me up. On discovering my family connection to Oklahoma, she said, "welcome home," with an Oklahoma twang reminiscent of my grandma Welch, a voice I hadn't heard in some 30 years. 

She handed me a free map of Oklahoma, invited me to grab some brochures and a cup of coffee. I did as instructed and was soon back in my silver Jeep rental car heading back up I-35 towards Oklahoma City. Along the highway I could see here and there, oil derricks, some still gently rocking up and down pulling oil from the earth. Most sat idle and rusted.

Gene Autry, The singin' Cowboy

A noticed on the map a site for a Gene Autry Museum. It wasn't far off the highway so I made a detour. After about 7 miles a sign looking like Gene Autry pointed down a dirt road. I turned off and watched the red Oklahoma dust kick up behind the car. After another 2 miles another Gene Autry sign pointed to the left and indicated it was only another mile and a half. Feeling a little anxious, I nevertheless pressed on. What could be out here in the middle of nowhere that could have any interest?

Gene Autry for those of you who don't recognize the name was known as the Singin' Cowboy, hugely popular in America in movies, TV, radio and rodeos in the 30's, 40's and 50's. Check out the links above if you want to learn more about him.

The Gene Autry Baptist Church in Gene Autry, Oklahoma.

I nearly drove passed the little town and museum. I came into what may at one time have been a bit of a settlement but certainly wasn't much now. There was a Gene Autry Baptist Church, a Gene Autry community center and a Gene Autry Oklahoma Museum. It turns out Autry owned 1,200 acres of land around here known as the Flying A Ranch and the town actually changed its name in 1941 to Gene Autry. He visited several times over the years. I can't imagine anyone wanting to spend much time. But you know what they say, everyone has to be from somewhere. I suppose that there is always a draw, even if small, back to your roots. 

I arrived in Oklahoma City and checked into my hotel. Still having the bulk of the day left to explore, I remembered one of the brochures was about Route 66.  It contained a beautiful map and points of interest along the route. My mother and grandparents took this road all the way to California in the 30's. There was no freeway system such as we have today in America. It was a two lane road that stopped at every stop sign in every little town it went through from Chicago to L.A. I wondered if I would be retracing any of my family's steps to California if I drove even a bit of the old "Mother Road"? I decided I needed to take a drive up the old highway.

Old filling station currently housing a motorcycle museum

I headed out of town in the general direction of Tulsa to the northeast since the map in the brochure indicated quite a number of historic buildings and sites from that era along that stretch. It turned out not to be as easy as the brochure showed to even find the old road. I cris-crossed farm roads for nearly an hour before finally stumbling onto the old two-lane. Just up the road a bit I found the first sign I was, indeed on historic route 66--a historic sign marker.  I headed east driving through small, run down communities, past old shacks, ruins of buildings that were probably thriving, well maintained places of business or homes or farms back in the hey day of the highway.

The Lincoln Motel in Chandler. Restored and open for business

Occasionally I slowed down and even pulled off the road to take a photo of a still surviving, or restored building. Many were marked as historic remnants of the era. In Chandler, Oklahoma I hit a gold mine. In this still thriving farm community I found one of the old motels. It had been restored beautifully. It was the Lincoln Motel and was open for business.

Old filling station being restored.

I also found a service station, now a motorcycle museum, a beautiful round barn from that era and several old downtown buildings that had been around in those days. At one end of town I found the old armory had been restored and turned into a very nice little interactive Route 66 museum.   I went inside and was given a brief tour by a lady who then sent me into the main room which was divided up into several places to sit and watch a video about the route.

Interactive museum in chandler, Oklahoma

After finishing in the museum I went into the gift shop to look around. I bought a Route 66 coffee mug and paid my admission fee to the same lady, the only employee.

I drove about 50-60 miles of the route, then turned around and drove slowly back the same way, this time taking it all the way back into Oklahoma City. The route heads straight at the Oklahoma capitol building in the city, then curves around it and heads west into the sunset.

I wonder whether I traveled any of the route my mother and grandparents traveled as they left their home and headed west. I'd like to think I did, that perhaps they stopped at that filling station outside little Chandler for a few cents of gas, or that they, at least, glanced at it. I'll never know of course, but it is a romantic notion to think that I may have retraced a few of their steps.

round barn outside  Chandler, Oklahoma

Back in town I began to wonder why it took them so long to leave this place. Even without the dust storms and tough life on the farm, this town is just ugly.  I went to bed with only one more goal in mind before heading back to Texas--visiting the Oklahoma City National Memorial. 

The next morning, I slept in, had breakfast and headed into town to visit the memorial. At this site, where the Murrah Federal building once stood, an American terrorist blew up much of the building. Today, a beautiful tribute to the victims, men, women and children stands in the building's place. A park, dotted with bronze and glass chairs sit on a grassy area, one for each victim and small ones for each of the child victims.

The grounds of the memorial. 

The museum is a moving, wonderful tribute to the victims. It transports the visitor through the events of that day and those following in chronological order. Beginning in a conference room mock up, you hear a recorded meeting of the Oklahoma State Water Board taking place near the federal building.  Suddenly, you hear the actual explosion, the wall in front of you lights up with photos of all the victims and the audible chaos continues. A door opens and you enter into a room where the chaos continues with aerial  film footage of the building and of the injured and the dead being tended to. The museum covers the investigation, the arrest and trial of the perpetrators and the aftermath of the tragedy both locally and nationally. It was a very moving experience and one well worth visiting if you should ever find yourself in Oklahoma City.

Each of these chairs represents a victim and where they were found

After my visit I headed back south the way I'd come. I arrived back in Dallas in the late afternoon and got the key Leslie had left to her room.

The next morning I decided to visit the one place I knew I had to see when I got to Dallas. I was only just 10 years old but this event had probably the strongest impact on the early lives of the kids of my generation. We all know where we were when this tragedy took place and it was super imprinted onto our consciousness due to the massive coverage it received on television and endless replay of certain key moments in the events that followed.

The old Texas Book Depository Building. The 6th floor
corner window above the entrance
was where the shots were fired.

I speak, of course, of the assassination of President John Kennedy. He was the first president of which I had any conscious knowledge. His  assassination shocked our nation, sent it into a period of mourning that left it reeling into a historic period of violence in our nation. We truly believed we could do anything. After that we descending into years of killing our leaders, race riots, cities being burned and, of course, there was that war over in Vietnam. I believe it also marked the apex of our country's confidence in itself.  It was a terrible, depressing era.

The grassy knoll. In the street is an X marking the first shot
that hit the president.

I parked the car and walked the few blocks over to the the site of the tragedy--Dealey Plaza. I turned the corner and there in front of me was the old Texas School Book Depository Building. My mind had always seen this place in black and white because that was how we saw it on TV at the time. Now, it suddenly shifted into living color. My eyes knew just where to move their gaze. The 6th floor, corner window. It was slightly open, just as it has been on that November day in 1963. I froze staring up at that window, then my gaze shifted to the left. There was the grassy knoll and the street down which the president's limousine slowly moved, with the president and Jackie in the back seat smiling and waving to their adoring fans.

The memorial to the president sits in Dealey Plaza.

Around me, tourists, parents with ill-behaving children running and screaming stood snapping photos and tried to explain to their bored children why this was such an important place.  Others looked around for the building, then tried to figure out which window it was. Another women asked me where the "X" was? "The X," I asked? "You know, where Kennedy got shot?" "Oh," I said, "that would be down the street that way." I pointed gesturing with my hand. I knew exactly where everything was. It was so indelibly etched in my mind 50 years ago.

I crossed the street and walked down the hill down which the president's limo had traveled and there in the middle of the street was--The "X." I stared at it, then up at the window, back up the street and saw the whole thing happen again in my mind. Across the street the grassy knoll stretched up to the same fence and parking lot, the overpass below where the president's limo sped him to the hospital with the secret service agent climbing over the back trunk of the car to get to the president's slumping body, the onlookers standing along the street wondering what was happening as the first shock settled in that some of them had just seen the president shot.  One of them, a Mr. Zappruder, had even taken film of that moment.

I couldn't bring myself to go into the Depository building. There was a museum, The 6th Floor Museum and they would take you up to that 6th floor. I just couldn't do it.

Out on the street I became aware of the circus-like atmosphere. Hawkers were selling souvenir newspapers. The worst offender was a guy who stood right in front of the depository building selling videos and books and lecturing the crowd gathered around him on the morbid details of entry and exit wounds and encouraging the old conspiracy theories.  It didn't seem to me at all appropriate. But our society does believe in the freedom of speech with little emphasis on any of the responsibilities that go along with it. Of course, a capitalist society shouldn't expect anything less, should it?

I walked away back to the spot across the street where I'd first laid eyes on the colorized version of this scene, turned and looked back one last time. The event played in my head once more. I lowered my eyes, turned and walked away.

I returned a couple of days later, this time with Leslie who hadn't seen the site and needed too.

______________________

We stayed at the Sheraton here in downtown Dallas. She was ungraded to an executive suite, an amazing room! It is understandable that you would stay in a downtown hotel since the convention is here and you want to be in the proximity of events. Beyond that it would seem it is nearly always a bad idea to stay in a high-end hotel.

As one example, I am sitting here in the hotel restaurant having lunch, if you can call it that. There is very little within easy walking distance of the hotel so I came downstairs to eat here. $18 for lunch. For that I am sitting in a spacious dining room, well decorated, with ambivalent service and looking out a window onto a patio area currently being used for storage. One item just blew over into the landscaping. Lovely view. The floor has not been swept for quite a while. There are bits of food here and there under tables.

The food? Terrible! The salad is lifeless, the sandwich has obviously being sitting around too long. No presentation. I could expect better in a Denny's for less than half the price.

Everything in these "high end" hotels costs at least twice as much as you'd pay if you simply drove a ways or stayed in one of the less expensive hotel chains.

I have mentioned before that we normally stay in a Choice Hotel property when traveling. Free breakfast, free wi-fi, free parking, free use of the hotel facilities and the price is half or even a third what you pay in these high end hotels. Yes, there is the convenience in this case to be near where the events are happening. But I have no wi-fi access without paying a high price per day. I am paying $21 per day to park.

Last night I accompanied Leslie down to the sports bar for a quick dinner, where they had a buffet for $14. The food was the same as they give away at most bar's happy hours--pizza, chicken wings, etc.

So think twice before choosing one of those fancy hotels. Think about the hidden costs?  We stay out on the edge of town. Even with paying for public parking when we drive in to see the sites, we don't come even remotely close to what we pay when staying in these big fancy places.

_______________________

We'll be home for only four days before heading out again, this time to Europe. The choir from WWU will head to Venice for a concert in Saint Marks, then by bus through Slovenia, Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina. It'll be a whirlwind tour by previous standards--only 12 days, but it will take us through territory we've never been. Three new countries!

Stay tuned for my blog report about our experiences there.

The Texas Hill Country

We have spent the last couple of days in and around San Antonio, Texas. We've walked the river walk, eaten some Tex-Mex style food and taken an open-air boat up the San Antonio River passed the shops and restaurants that line the river.

But today we left San Antoio and headed into the famous hill country, New Braunfels Luling, Buda, Lockhart, Seguin, San Marcos to name but a few of the little communities that dot this part of Texas.

We'd done some serious research before heading into this region because we knew it was famous for mostly one thing--BBQ. Texas style BBQ that is. Not the same as BBQ in other parts of the country. Every region has its own way of treating beef and pork and Texas is no different. Yet it still takes one unmistakable, fundamental thing to make truly great BBQ. Treat the meat right and that means low and slow! Low temperatures, slow, long roasting times. Then it is a matter of what kind of wood you will use and what you'll put on the meat while it cooks.

Here it is kept pretty simple. Wood fires, mesquite wood or oak,  slow cooking to get that red smoke ring as deep into the meat as you can. Then, sit back and wait. And wait...and wait.

When it is done those hours of waiting are so worth it.. The meat is tender, moist, smoky and melts in your mouth. When eating it you may add some sauce or not. Hot sauce like Crystal hot sauce or, better, give the locally made option a try, if there is one.

The City Market Sanctuary--The pit room!

Our first stop was at the City Market downtown Luling. A hole in the wall, it looked and smelled like the real thing. Its a place that has been here a long time. Even before walking inside the first thing you notice is the overwhelming smell of the BBQ. Heavenly! The walls were of knotty pine and seemed to retain a sheen of the years of BBQ build up. Long tables sat in rows with locals sitting around nawing on ribs and placing little squares of American cheese into a "samich" of brisket and thin slices of white bread.

A counter near the front sold the available sides--pinto beans, dill pickles, potato salad, cole slaw and drinks. But did I mention, we were after the BBQ?

Downtown Luring, Texas, home of the best BBQ we ate!

There, in the back corner of the main dining room was the pit room door. A line of about 20 folks stood waiting their turn to enter the sanctuary. There were two doors. one marked enter on the right and the other, the exit. Only a few at a time could fit into the pit room. Others must wait until someone exited. An ancient looking sign nearly unreadable hung in the smoke covered window.

After about 15 minutes our turn came and we swung open the door. A sign said, "please keep the door closed." We hurried in and shut it behind us. Oh, my god! The aroma!  A rotund, friendly gentleman with a deep Texas drawl greeted us. As if we needed to, we expressed our apologies saying this was our first time here. Without skipping a beat he guided us through our choices, answered our questions and set to work on our order as soon as we'd given it.

"A third pound of brisket, a third pound of pork ribs and a sausage ring, please."

City Market BBQ! Oh, yes!

3-4 pieces of a purplish butcher paper were quickly ripped off the roll and placed one on top of the other. Then another guy behind him made quick work of a couple of pork ribs, scooped them up and plopped them on the paper. Next, the beef brisket, blackened and glistening with moistness was sliced into a half dozen 1/4 inch slices. The red smoke ring was evident as these slices were slapped onto the paper. A quick movement brought our sausage ring into the growing pile. Finally, his request..."bread?"  "Sure, 2-3 slices would be fine."

He wrapped the edges of our package in toward the center and gently placed it into my waiting arms. Leslie paid the man about $20 and we exited the pit room. Glancimg around the dining room, we found a long table and took a seat. Leslie located a bottle of the house-made sauce.

I carefully unwrapped the purple packaging as if it were the Christmas gift I had wished for all my life. There, sitting atop a growing greasey spot on the paper was our first Texas BBQ. The first bite I took was of the beef brisket. Oh my! My eyes closed, my chewing slowed and I just savored the experience. A smile spread across Leslie's face as she watched me. "Oh, taste this!" I reached across the table and gentley placed a piece of brisket on her tongue. It was as if I were looking at my own expression in a mirror.

Wish I had smellivision!

How can any of the other places we intended to visit today and tomorrow possibly be any better than this? I couldn't imagine they were.


Before the day was out we'd also tried the brisket, ribs, sausage ring and prime rib at what was widely touted as one of the top two or three BBQ places in Texas--Kreuz (pronounced like bright) Market in Lockhart, Texas. The best part of this place was the prime rib. Unbelievable. Beyond that, we preferred our little hole in the wall in Luring. Kreuz was once a little hole in the wall, too, but is now in a huge barn-like structure (the biggest barn I've ever seen) and the pit room has over a dozen pits, most of them idle the day we were there. I can imagine the stadium-sized parking lot being filled with tour buses and all the pits running full blast. It has sadly become a factory. Then there was the BBQ. It was so salty and dry. Not like the moist meat at the City Market in Luring.

Leslie enjoying her rib!

The exception at Kreuz Market was their prime rib. This was amazing. The best prime rib I have ever tasted. Smoky, not overly salty as the other meats were and so moist. We got the end piece, too, and it was crunchy as well as moist. Amazing!


As if we hadn't had enough already, we had packaged up part of the Kreuz Market meat, we stopped in little Kyle, Texas along I-35 where we'd heard about the amazing things done with pie at the Texas Pie Company. The delightfully friendly owner greeted us and we chose a small piece of the Almond Joy pie and the Lemon Chess pie. We were only able to eat half so we wrapped the rest and hopped back in the car. Only another 15-20 minutes on up I-35 and we'd arrived at our hotel for the night. Sadly, we hadn't been told by our Choice hotel chain that the hotel had been bought out by Best Western, but they honored our reservation and we checked in. It was a completely refurbished hotel so our room was beautiful and clean.

Leslie, feeling restless, found us a movie to go see--Bless Me, Ultima. It was a beautiful story based on a young teen level book about a Mexican family and their community in New Mexico. Beautifully filmed, it told the story of a young boy growing up in a tight knit family being pulled apart after WW II. It also tells a second, more important story of the mysticism and understanding of native cures and how this is woven into their Catholicism.

Tomorrow we head north toward Dallas, but on the way we will drive around a bit of Austin, then head out into the country-side for more BBQ and a visit to Waco and the headquarters of Dr. Pepper.

Panama City and The Canal!

Day 10--December 23rd

A very early rise this morning. We had a shore excursion into Panama City, both the old "vieja" and the new. I'm not quite sure why this is called Fuerte Amador and not Panama City, but there you are.

The interior of the tender taking us ashore in Panama.

Old town Panama City.

Here we were required to take a tender ashore. These boats double as life boats and normally tuck nicely up above the Promenade Deck. They must hold a good 60-70 people. It took about a 10-15 minute cruise into the breakwater and then we disembarked onto Flemenco Island just adjacent to a rather ritzy marina with, conveniently, plenty of fancy shops and restaurants. This is the outer most of the islands that sit adjacent to the canal entrance and were utilized as bases for protecting the canal entrance until recently. They were catacombed with tunnels for everything from storage to a safe haven for officers and their families during the cold war. The Smithsonian uses most of one island as a research facility and museum. Each of these islands are connected by a causeway built of the debris excavated out of the canal.

 We were whisked around in a small, well air conditioned shuttle led by a very knowledgeable, english speaking guide. He took us through the old city which is mostly either ruins, run down or on its way towards being restored depending upon where you are and its historic significance. We went into an old church with a beautiful gold alter, then a souvenir shop, then a short walk through the historic French area, then passed more souvenirs, etc. We did purchase a lovely bird mask for the walls in our office.

It rained and rained. We were soaked to the skin but we walked anyway. Back on the bus, we headed through the high rise new town much of which has been built since the Panamanian take-over of the canal. It is truly amazing to see from the sea. It looks like a modern, cosmopolitan city and it is. A new subway system, new roads, a new sewer system and restoration projects of the historic sites, long ignored, are all going on at a fast pace.

By about 12:30 we were back at the dock where we'd been picked up. Leslie decided to walk around the area ashore. She managed to overheat herself as the heat and humidity do not agree with either of us. I hopped on the next tender back to the ship, had a bit of lunch and hauled my aching heel up for a rest.

View back towards the new Panama City.

Leslie arrived back onboard about 4, too close for comfort for me. I was beginning to get worried and imagined all the horrible things that could have happened to her. Safe and sound, she walked in with a smile and a bottle of champagne she'd purchased at the duty free store on shore.

A tender heading back to the Coral Princess.

We walked up to dinner about 5:30, tired and ready for the evening. The dinner tonight, I must admit after all my complaining in yesterday's blog entry, was a huge improvement over the previous night, though my appie didn't start things out well. I ordered a calamari  dish which arrived colorless (after all, calamari alone is pretty much white). Leslie got the Swiss dried beef , which in hindsight I knew I should have ordered what with a Swiss Executive Chef. It was fantastic. I also ordered a wagon wheel pasta with a deliciously rich ox-tail ragout.

Our mains arrived next. My roasted rack of pork was perfect. It was accompanied by artichoke hearts, asparagus, carrots and potatoes with a rich sauce.

Leslie ordered a coq au vin to die for. A generous pile of her favorite mashed potatoes was the accompaniment.

We ordered a French Pinot Noir to go with our dinner and as we had every other time, asked for it to be decanted and, as before, our wait person went off a bit confused. But she returned a short time later with the sommelier we had met on our first night. He came to suggest we not decant this wine as it is a French wine and meant to open a bit at a time. He explained it in terms only a sommelier could and we learned a lot from his discussing it with us. He was still willing to decant it if we'd like. We appreciated his suggestion and went with it.

The dessert, an apple strudel and cheesecake were disappointing. We had our coffee and called it a night.

By the time we got back to our room and got comfortable, it wasn't long before we had turned out the light. Morning was going to come early with our transit of the canal.

Day 11: December 24th--Christmas Eve 2012

The Bridge of the Americas, the Pacific coast entrance
 to the canal.

We heard the tooting of horns and Leslie popped out of bed and drew the drapes back. There outside our cabin loomed the famous Bridge of the Americas. It spans the canal near Panama City and the opening of the canal. This bridge is the access for the Pan American highway that runs all the way from Alaska to near here. There is no highway into Columbia and no plans for one. You'd have to put your car on a ship and transport it south before connecting with the highway again. I'd read that the problem really is one of the incredible terrain in the way.

We passed under the bridge and into the Mira Flores locks, a set of two locks before entering Mira Flores Lake at 85 feet above sea level. The process was amazing to watch and as we'd been directed into the west lock, we were able to see the entire operation from our balcony seats. Four locomotives, or mules, drug us into place and held us in position as we eased into the narrow chamber. Only two feet of water on either side of the ship kept us from scrapping the side of the ship against the concrete lined chamber. The little electric locomotives were connected to us by 1-inch cables that were tightened and slackened as necessary, holding just enough tension to keep our bulk in line.

One of the friendly drivers of the mules.

The ride up was almost imperceptible. I only sensed our rise because I looked out the door, across the balcony and to a distant object which I could see moving in relation to my position.

Following the two locks at Mira Flores, we headed slowly across small Mira Flores Lake to the Pedro Miguel Lock, a single lock, a kind of bottle neck on the canal, and a further rise of 31 feet putting us at the 85 foot level of the Culebra Cut that leads into the giant Gatun Lake for the journey to the opposite coast. This lock was really cool because from  our 8th deck balcony we were almost level with the top of the chamber. As we rose in the lock chamber, we could dramatically watch as our ship rose up.

Off to our port side in the distance, we could see the new locks under construction. This would also be evident as we neared the Atlantic side on the canal at the Gatun Locks.

About 9:00 our breakfast was delivered by room service. We'd ordered it the night before figuring we'd be too wrapped up with the transit to go sit down in the dining room. So we watched the canal go by as we sat out on the balcony and ate our breakfast of mueslis, coffee, croissant and mimosas. Not a bad way to spend a morning.

Into the Culebra Cut we sailed next. The shoreline was so close on our starboard. I would judge the distance from our hull to the buoys marking the edge of the channel at no more than 25-50 yards. The land stretched away in a terraced fashion in order to cut down on the land slides which are, nevertheless, fairly common here. Evidence of the most recent one could be seen on our starboard.

Lining up the lock and preparing to enter.

Another site of interest to me were the many range markers that lined the shore. Lining up two or more of these in your sight line helps keep you in the middle of the channel.

Gatun Lake, at the time of its creation, was the largest man-made lake in the world until the Hoover Dam was built to contain Lake Mead.

The weather for our transit was bright and sunny, hot and humid. But at least there was no rain or clouds to muddle the photo ops.

Gatun Lake, the 2nd largest man-made lake in the world.

Along the way, as we entered Gatun Lake, the channel widened and our distance to those buoys lengthened to a more comfortable distance in some places. As we passed through the lake, along our port side, was a Celebrity cruise ship and one of the Windjammer ships--all in very close proximity given our sizes.

We came upon several types of dredging operations. The first was the oldest dredge on the canal which was outfitted with a grinding head that could crunch up harder materials and send them down a pipe system that lead to shore and into an area in the jungle. The water would eventually end up back in the canal while the sludge stayed ashore.

The oldest dredge in the fleet and the pipeline that carries
debris off into the jungle. 

Another dredge just dredged material off the bottom that had either sloughed off the shore or that had been dynamited by another rig whose job it was to drill holes in the bottom and pack them with the dynamite. After detonation, the dredge would come in and scrape the newly loosened material off the bottom.

Around noon the clouds began piling up and humidity increased markedly. It became just intolerable for me to be outside on the balcony for more than short periods. I could see the water vapor in the air, I swear.

The arrow indicates the lock the next ship is to enter.

The ship had a guide who spoke over the loudspeaker system and the TV system to let us know what we were seeing and what to look for. As he pointed something out on the starboard side, I would runout on the balcony and shoot a few photos before ducking back inside the cool cabin.

A view of the excavation for the new locks being  built.

After an hour or so of sailing across Gatun Lake, we finally arrived at the Gatun Locks near the old city of Colon. Here we stepped down to the Atlantic in three steps of 26 feet each. Our little locomotive mules tied up to us, as they had at the previous locks, and began to gently guide us into each of the three chambers.

After an hour or so and would exit the canal and enter into the Caribbean where we would sail on to Cartegena, Columbia tonight. It is supposed to be even warmer there.

Nav aids indicating the channel location.

Speaking of warm, if you are coming down here to get away from the snow and frigid temperatures of your current location, do think twice. It can get damn hot down here. The temperature might not even be so bad if it weren't for the double whammy of the humidity. That one-two punch is enough to overwhelm a lot of people who don't take proper precautions. One word. Hydrate! Do NOT underestimate the importance of drinking plenty of water every day. While it may require more toilet stops than usual, it is far better than having to be picked up off the sidewalk and hauled off to the infirmary to be intravenously hydrated. In some extreme cases it can be deadly. So, if you don't have a bottle of water and it costs $3.50 for a half liter, as it does aboard our ship, shut up and pay it. THEN, don't toss the bottle. Keep it and refill it everyday. Put it in that little fridge they provide in every room that really has has no other use. In the morning before you head out on your next adventure, put the ice cold bottle in your daypack and take sips every few minutes through out the day. If you run out, take time to slow down and stop in a cafe along the way for a drink and to sit in some shade.

Water flooding into the lock.

At exactly 2:20 pm we exited the last lock and sailed out into Limon Bay, past the cities of Colon and Cristobal.  A short distance later we exited out through the breakwater and into the Caribbean Sea.

It was an exhilarating day, fun, hot, educational, a once in a lifetime experience and a great way to see this amazing wonder of the world.

Gatun locks. The mules have to descend 26
feet in each lock.

The icing on the cake was having dinner at Sabatini's on board. As I reflected earlier, we have been very disappointed in the dining aboard. The main dining rooms, which are white table cloth, with waiters and menus, etc. are so very inconsistent with the quality of service and the food. Not what we'd remembered years ago on our last Princess Cruise.

But there are two dining options available aboard that cost extra. We elected to try Sabatini's just to see what it was all about. Oh my goodness! So that was where the service and food I remembered before had gone. It turns out now that you have to pay $25 each plus tip for the privilege of a wait staff who are truly attentive, don't race around the room at high speed and encourage you to take you time. And the food! Oh, my! We tried several appies that were to die for and our mains were exquisite. I had a 10 ounce grass-fed steak that was cooked to perfection. Leslie had lobster cooked three ways including a risotto and two lobster tails. Even the desserts were wonderful. The tables weren't on top of each other, the service was wonderful and we just had a beautiful time there.

The site where the canal ends on the Atlantic side.

To wrap this day up, I must say I am concerned about the canal's future. New canals are being built for the bigger ships being built today and, though managed by the Republic of Panama, it is truly an international project. But, what of the old locks which they intend to continue using? The idea here isn't to replace the original locks, but to increase capacity. No construction holds up well and certainly not forever in this kind of environment. Everything is eaten away by termites, salt water, plants that root almost anywhere here and phenomena I'm probably not even thinking of. But as I look at the infrastructure I see signs of wear that should have long ago been repaired or replaced. Some buildings look pretty worn out while others look well maintained. I don't know, it just looks like it needs some serious work. My concern is whether Panama has the money or the political will to keep it maintained, or will things begin to break down and at some key international crisis, will the necessary ships and their cargo be unable to get through. Panama doesn't exactly have a great track record avoiding coup d'etat or dictators taking control of the government.  Or, will Panama skim income from the canal off to build other civic projects it wants built such as their new subway and monorail systems and many other projects mentioned to us while we were visiting. Will Panama allow the canal to fall apart until someone else has to step in to fix it and what nation will that be?

I wonder if the U.S. didn't find it easier to give the canal to Panama because they saw the writing on the wall and didn't want to be responsible for continuing to maintain this vast, amazingly expensive facility. Only time will tell.

Costa Rica and On To Panama

Day 8: December 21st

Costa Rican beach

The coast of Costa Rica appeared off the starboard bow this morning, a bit disconcerting until I realized we were just coming about in order to approach the Puntarenas dock into the wind. The pilot came aboard and performed an amazing feat docking this 900 plus behemoth. The channel is a narrow crooked channel passage. Red right return is what we learn in seamanship class. I found the red nav aid ahead. I watched as we crept up on it slowly, slowly, until I was sure it was too late to keep from taking it out and the pilot boat that had tied itself to it. Our forward momentum seemed too much to avoid a collision. But slowly, carefully, at the very last moment, our bow came to port just enough to get right around the buoy.

The Coral Princess docked in Puntarenas, Cost Rica

Almost immediately our bow came up on the end of the pier. Again the bow was on a heading that I would ensure we would take it out and once again the pilot brought the enormous ship right around the obstacle. There was still 900 feet of ship to get wrapped around the end of that pier and somehow, using the wind, current and I am sure not a little help from the thrusters, the pilot skillfully brought the Coral Princess right along side the pier. It was a thing of beauty. I don't know that I could have done what he or she did so gracefully and flawlessly if I had to do it in my little 31'.

We headed down to our muster station for the shore excursion and soon after, we descended the gangway to the bus for our shore excursion.

Our Mangrove forest tour boat

We were driven only a few blocks to a waiting tour boat. About 40 of us were herded onto an fairly unkempt but floating eco-tour motor catamaran.  We wound up in the front row with no real view. Leslie took it upon herself to move out on the bow with the permission of the captain. She grabbed our camera and propped herself up on the bow in a perfect position to take photos of the wildlife along the Mangrove Forest we headed into. Our capable guides pointed out whimbrells, herons, pelicans, hawks, iguanas and the occasional crocodile.

The tour lasted about an hour and then we cruised back to the dock to catch the bus to our next stop--the Macaw Sanctuary upcountry.

Every color of macaw were being kept, many with the idea of releasing them back into the wild after they'd been healed from the abuse they'd suffered.

Besides the macaws we saw toucans, parrots, as well as a couple of orphan tapirs and a few species of monkey.

An orphaned tapir

We were back to the ship around one, tired, and exhausted. We headed to our cabin and washed our faces, drank plenty of ice water and collapsed on the bed. After a nap, Leslie decided she'd walk down the pier into the town to see what she could see. She returned after an hour or so declaring the town pretty run down and trashy, but she had found a new mask for our office mask collection. We headed up to the Lido Deck for dinner and to watch a James Taylor concert on the jumbotron.

Immediately after the concert they began the film The Dark Night--a Batman movie. After about 45 minutes we'd had enough and we headed back to our cabin in time to watch the dockworkers cast off the lines and our ship slowly pulled away and out to sea toward our next stop--Panama!

Day 9--December 22nd

A lovely sleep in day. Still managed to wake up early but just rolled over and did another hour. Another hour was also added to the time overnight as we sailed into the eastern time zone due to the fact that there is no need for daylight savings time here. What with the amount of daylight and night nearly equal at the equator, daylight savings time would just be silly.

The sea has been only slightly impacted by the wind. Small white caps here and there to the horizon. The ship gently rolls with hardly a bump ever. The temperature in the morning is wonderful as is the evening. From late morning through the late afternoon, the temperature and humidity combine to make you really slow down and seek a cooler spot in the shade or air conditioned space aboard.

The occasional tanker or container ship sail by in the distance. Otherwise, the sea seems so vast and empty from our vantage point on the starboard side. The port side, facing land sees more shipping and the occasional fishing boat.  Just the nearness of the land makes the sea seem so much smaller. I chose the starboard for this reason. I wanted the feeling of being far out at sea.

It is nearly 10:15 now and I'll be heading up to breakfast. I plan to keep it light this morning. Last night's German-style dinner was as heavy as you might expect what with the sauerbraten and four kinds of bratwurst and  sauerkraut and spetzel and on and on. Heavy German food all. Time for some oatmeal and juice and coffee!

I am about half way through The Path Between the Seas by David McCullough; the story about the Panama Canal. I spent the better part of the day reading it. In between we checked out the art auction preview which was nothing but glicee prints, nothing much more than a fancy poster of an original, sometimes signed but unnumbered. These prints, artistically speaking, have little value yet they are selling from $500 on up. I suppose that pays for the fancy frames that surround the print. Oh, and they are including free shipping. Right! We passed.

The Lotus Pool area on the Lido deck.

We did spend a bit of time in the Lotus Pool area. I read, Leslie paddled around the pool a bit and read. About 4:30, we headed back to the room and dressed for dinner. On the way to the dining room we stopped and listened to our favorite musicians who were playing in the atrium again.

Dinner? What a disappointment. We thought it the worst food yet from the formal dining room. I ordered an Irish Stew and Leslie the Yorkshire Pudding. She did like the fresh peas, but the Yorkshire Pudding hadn't any gravy in the pudding and the roast beef was machine sliced into 3-4 thin slices. My Irish Stew had plenty of lamb, but the broth was thin like a soup, flavorless and there was little else in it in the way of vegetables. Just sad.

We ordered dessert, Leslie the Drambuie Soufflé which had no discernible Drambuie in its sauce and I ordered the Cherries Jubilee. The waiter said it would be flambeed but later said it was done ahead of time rather than at the table. So what came to me was a bowl with a spoon of vanilla ice cream and what looked like cherry pie filling. As with the Drambuie, there was no discernible liquor in the cherry sauce.

I am not sure what is going on with the food service on this ship but we are both very disappointed. The service is too fast, the waiters walk at high speed everywhere. They often forget parts of our order or left out courses we'd ordered. The service stations which were everywhere in the dining room became places where dishes piled up and waiters scrapped plates. The waiters were also the bussers so one minute they are serving fresh plates of food, the next they are scrapping dirty plates with no hand washing in between.  Our wine would sit out among these dirty plate stations, even be decanted there before coming to us as would the food when it came from the kitchen on its way to tables. Just not very appetizing. Speaking of decanting, we had to ask for this to be done every time and the waiters acted as if they didn't know what to do. They had to ask a head waiter what it was and then go find one. They did it, but it was obviously something they seldom did. We even had to ask for red wine glasses. Again, that vacant stare as if they'd never been asked for such a thing. Our water glasses were often empty which to me is the number one no-no of any restaurant considering itself outstanding.

All of this reflects on the training these guys are obviously not receiving and their high-speed movement and the lack of any bussers, shows the lack of concern by the cruise line for its clientele who, I suppose, the cruise line figures are in a hurry to eat and get on to whatever they next have planned.

I should say that the servers are generally very friendly and want to please. They are just in high gear all the time and this seriously takes away the joy of fine dining.

We have come to the conclusion that this is not our preferred method of travel. It is not what we had hopped. It has been relaxing in that we have not had to make up our room. Our cabin attendant, Domingo, has done an admirable job of keeping the room neat and tidy. But most of the shipboard activities are not our style. We don't gamble or party. We loved the art auction we attended on our first Princess Cruise, but the art on the last two cruises we've taken has not been our taste at all. We enjoyed the idea of the Movies Under the Stars concept but most of the films were not our taste or were films we've already seen. The stage shows aren't our style--just tacky in our opinion. So, that really narrows down the attraction of cruising for us.

I still think that the cruise was probably the best way to take in these four countries, none of which I would have probably come to individually. I felt the same way about our Alaska cruise, so I suppose there might be some advantages to this type of travel and I can see how for older travelers this could be a trouble-free way to see bits of places they might otherwise feel uncomfortable traveling to or find it too difficult due to language, culture or other perceived issues. Plus the cruise line does bend over backward for those who have disabilities making these places accessible to folks who might not otherwise even attempt it.

So, for us I think it will be back to road trips and land tours such as our Thailand tour last year. Each of these has its own draw backs but our experiences with land tours has been that we have more exposure to the locals, the culture and the cuisine. Our road trips require us to do a great deal of planning and research, but we enjoy doing that so it works for us. Perhaps in another 10-20 years, god willing, we may revisit the cruise again or if there is a cruise that takes us to a group of places that might otherwise be too difficult or expensive to do on a land tour, maybe then.

I did notice a Princess Cruise that goes out of Southampton, England and has ports of call in Russia, Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania, Finland, Sweden, Norway, Scotland, Iceland, Greenland and ends in New York City. There might have even been a couple of other stops in there I missed, but what a dream trip!

Off  Fuerte Amador and Panama City, Panama

Well, next morning we anchored near Fuerte Amador near the Panama Canal and got tendered in to shore for another shore excursion. The ride to shore was about 15-20 minutes. Tomorrow morning we head into the canal for our transit, what I hope will be the high point of the trip for me.

Me on our balcony and a balmy evening off Panama

It is only supposed to be about 82 degrees tomorrow but the humidity will probably be up around the same so it will be warm and muggy but not as bad as it surely could be.