Up the river without a ....

Up the river without a .... The Amazon is huge--initially we cannot see both shores at the same time. We see why it's called "the ocean river." The water is brown from the silt carried downstream. Captain Tim Roberts (our British second captain, as the first, a Norwegian first-named Dag, went home from Buenos Aires) has devised a better way to reach our next port, Belem, which will improve the visit. Originally, the ship was to be moored in the middle of the river, and passengers would have needed to take a 40-minute tender ride to shore followed by a 45-minute bus ride to reach the city. He has decided to wait for high tide in order to slide our ship over a sand bar and move up the tributary to Belem and anchor a mere 20-minute tender ride from the town dock. We cross the sand bar with just 6 feet to spare, and will have to leave 12 hours later at the next high tide. Belem is on the Guama river, which merges with the Amazon. In its prime this city of about a million residents was known as "the tropical Paris." (Paris appears to be the gold standard for comparisons in South America.) Belem's port area has modern buildings, food courts, and (a rarity) free, if balky, wifi. A large market along the water's edge, mercifully air-conditioned, sells vegetables, seafood, and meat as well as prepared foods. There's even a brewery selling Amazon Beer. We set out along the shore to find a mineral museum, shown on the map provided by our ship. We find the city's impressive cathedral, but no mineral museum. As we wander the uneven cobbled or tiled streets, we do find a fine arts museum, which has a current exhibit of contemporary paintings as well as regional art produced over the past centuries. The building itself is impressive with marble staircases and exquisite wooden floors on the second floor, striped with wide boards alternating dark and light woods--jacaranda and teak. Several art students welcome us in hesitant English, and guide us to the exhibits. The contemporary artwork shows talent and is far better than the garish paintings being sold to tourists. We wear special slippers to see the exhibit on the second floor, which features wooden furniture from several eras, all with caned seating and backs to be comfortable in the hot climate. Early portraits of "regular people," as opposed to the usual dignitaries, are outstanding. From the students we learn that the ship-provided maps are inaccurate, and the mineral museum will be too far away to visit. We spend some time walking through the busy town, dodging uneven pavement along its narrow streets and leaping over the deep chasms passing for drains when crossing at intersections. We share a Coke Zero in a local cantina--our second Coke of the trip--and it's refreshing indeed. We drink using a straw in the can, as one cannot trust the ice anywhere on shore, just as one cannot trust the water unless it's bottled. (By the way, we have not seen any Pepsi products in South America--not sure if Coke has monopolies, or if there's not enough business for two mega soft drink companies.) We arrive at the dock to catch the tender back to the ship, just missing a storm of heavy rain and lightning, part of the rainy season here. The next day we are in Santarem, a commercial city of about 200,000. Holland America has paid for a cargo ship to move so we can dock--no tender needed here. The agriculture giant Cargill has a large storage depot by the dock for soybeans, and we are told that the cargo ship will be unloading fertilizer for the cleared forest areas to the south, to be used to grow soybeans. Three-story wooden ships share the dock area, and each level is strung with hammocks provided by the passengers. It can take days to reach a town up- or down-river. The passengers transport their own belongings and meals, including the bedding. We learn that these trips can take five to six days each way. River travel is the best, and sometimes only, way to travel in this immense region. Just one road from Santarem leads to southern Brazil. Nearby is a national forest of 1,480,000 acres. Around the harbor, Santarem has many stands offering local handicrafts and souvenirs. Shellacked piranhas can be had for the equivalent of five dollars. Blowguns and darts are popular offerings as well. We board an ancient bus, windows open to the hot, moist air. We are transported to the downtown section along the seafront. Parts of a pedestrian walkway along the seaside are available for taking in the river view, but other parts are under repair. The Amazon water level is dropping, necessitating these changes because marshes are filling in between the walkway and the river. As we are in an area where the river is the major highway, easy access to the river is mandatory. We set out to walk to a historic church, one of the few tourist attractions, and cross narrow streets with even deeper gutters than in Belem. We count ourselves lucky that it's not rainy during this year's rainy season, but sympathize with those whose livelihoods will be affected without the expected moisture replenishment. Many stores are selling notebooks, as school will soon start now that summer is ending. We notice many stores selling fabrics, something rarely seen in the U.S. any more. After wandering the pocked streets and dodging few cars and many motorcycles, we find the church and its adjacent museum of sacred art, but they are closed and locked, even though it is Friday. The heat and humidity (about 96 Fahrenheit with 96% humidity) are as oppressive as they've been ever since Rio de Janeiro, and we soon gladly board the shuttle bus for the ride back to the ship. We could have taken a tour during our time in Santarem, but we canceled out because we didn't relish being in the rain forest for four to six hours in this inhospitable climate. We could have seen rubber harvested or gone fishing for piranhas, but instead rely on fellow passengers who did brave the wilds to report on their adventures. Their frazzled reports make us glad to have skipped the extended outdoor experiences, now with the added frisson of Zika. The next day our ship spends several hours visiting a native village of about 75 persons. A crowd of children in native dress are brought from all the nearby villages. They pose for photos with visitors and lead them around the village. We are expected to provide gifts of school supplies and/or cash for the children, who are not shy about asking for money for their services. Finally we reach Manaus, our westernmost stop on the Amazon, on February 28. We are now 880 miles of river from the Atlantic Ocean. We will stay here overnight. This is a bustling city with a population of about 2 million. Its free trade status has attracted companies that use cheap labor to assemble electronics and machinery, for example. The officially claimed unemployment rate is only 6%, but that is belied by the decay and poverty we observe (and smell!) on the streets. Manaus was once the center of the rubber trade, generating fabulous wealth for a few while bringing misery to their slaves. The rubber industry collapsed when rubber tree seeds were smuggled to Malaysia; since then the trees have been supplanted by artificial rubber. The city's attractive custom house, built during the rubber boom, was prefabricated in Europe, and its parts were assembled here. An elegant opera house, Teatro Amazona, opened in 1896, was constructed of lavish materials imported from, or fabricated in, Europe. We enjoy an excellent tour of this building, which would not be out of place in any major European city. Here in the distant outpost of Manaus, it is akin to seeing a spaceship. An added bonus: because the Amazon Philharmonic is rehearsing in the ornate five-tiered concert hall, we hear music by Mendelssohn in air-conditioned comfort. The symphony is comprised of Russian, Belgian and Brazilian musicians, we are told. Their average age might be around 35, contrasted with the white-haired symphonies in many U.S. cities. Our tour also takes us through parts of the city we cannot reach on foot, including slum areas with squatters' homes on stilts. We learn that in 2012 the city experienced massive flooding, while in 2010 there was an unprecedented drought. This year, too, is short on rainfall; the Amazon's depth is three meters less than normal. Our guide says the public schooling is minimal--only three to four hours of instruction per day for 170 days a year. Expensive private schools are far more rigorous. We pass a daunting moldering prison and imagine it is a fine deterrent to crime, notwithstanding the many warnings we are given about being wary of pickpockets. Although there is an impressive suspension bridge just east of the city, there are actually no roads between Manaus and the rest of Brazil. The bridge serves a few small towns, so they can reach Manaus without boats, but the road goes no farther south than these few towns. We are now retracing our path toward the Atlantic Ocean, 660 miles away as the crow flies. On March 1 we will be in Parintins for a preview of the Boi Bumba festival show. This will be out last stop in Brazil.

A Tale of Two Citties, and Two More

A Tale of Two Cities, and two more February 17 and we dock in Ilheus. We go into the town on our own after cancelling the booked tour; it didn't sound interesting enough to justify the $70 per person cost. Two shuttle buses later, we arrive at the San Sebastián Cathedral on the town square. The temperature is in the 90s, but the church is surprisingly cool, with a breeze blowing in from the sandy beach. The doors are open on three sides, and the seats in the pews have large open ovals which allow the air to circulate. We rest in the church before walking through the city streets. The city has a population of around 255,000, and was once part of the thriving cocoa business on Brazil's north coast. There are many small restaurants and shops selling clothes and school supplies. Alice photographs a noodle cake, menus in walls, artwork of tapioca specialties, and assorted sweets. We visit famed author Jorge Amado's home, a small, three-story place half a block from the church. The author lived here when he wrote his first novel; now it's a museum, complete with his typewriter, displays of his books and artifacts from his life. After we return to the ship, we become aware that the shuttle bus had free wifi, a missed opportunity to connect with our world. We are disappointed at the loss of this rare opportunity, but we decide not to walk a quarter-mile back to the shuttle bus area in 95-degree heat. We've found that even when wifi is "available," it can take many minutes to connect, and connections are unstable even if they occur. The next day we are in Salvador, Brazil's first city, founded in 1549, and also its first capital. Hudson Bay in Canada is the largest bay in the world, but the bay outside Salvador is the world's second largest. Now a city of 3.5 million, Salvador is relatively prosperous. It has lovely clean beaches, high-rise condos, and modern buildings. After a scenic drive through the modern section overlooking the bay, during which we see the first fort built when the city was established--now with a lighthouse on top--we visit the well-preserved historic city center. It is elevated from the port area and very picturesque, with cobblestone streets, colorful buildings and baroque churches. It is quite warm, but there is a breeze and we are often able to find shade as we walk. We are told that the temperature in Salvador, being near the Equator, varies only about 4 degrees Celsius all year 'round. It has just two 'seasons': rain and no rain. The historic district is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Colonial buildings, churches, and squares date from the earliest period of slavery that supported the sugar, coffee, mining, and other labor-intensive industries during the centuries when Brazil was a Portuguese colony. A statue of a Black man in a city square recalls a slave who managed to escape into the jungle for 35 years, only to be captured, hung, and quartered. Slavery was not abolished in Brazil until 1880. We are told that 85 percent of the population of Salvador are of African descent. We walk to the Church of Our Lady of the Rosary of the Black Man. Starting around 1700, this church was built by slaves over a period of 100 years. They could only work on the church at night, when they were free of their normal duties, and then only when the moon was full so they could see. They were forbidden to practice their religions brought from Africa, but this church, though Catholic, incorporates African gods. A Mass is underway when we arrive, including chanting and drums. The inside is embellished with gold sculptures and gilded woodwork, and there is an impressive oil-painted fresco on the ceiling. Among the colorful features of our visit is the presence of a number of hefty Afro-Brazilian women wearing traditional African dresses from 300 years ago--figure-concealing attire featuring very full skirts. Our guide says the slaves were forbidden to wear native dress, with one exception: slave women selected by masters's wives to work in their houses were allowed to wear their traditional garb because the masters then could not see their body contours and be tempted to stray. We move on to visit the Sao Francisco Church, with a sanctuary sumptuously decorated with an estimated one ton of 18 carat gold leaf on its baroque walls and ceiling. Wooden carvings of naked pregnant women among the balustrades are fertility statues that were added by the cathedral's enslaved builders. The blue and white Portuguese tiles lining the walls of the adjacent seminary courtyard are considered to be among the finest outside of Portugal. Finally we visit a restaurant with a "snack" of little fried muffins, shrimp, bean paste, and salsa, washed down by water, beer or the traditional lime-based sweet cocktail. There we are treated to a show of Capoeira, a very high-energy male-only improvisational acrobatic dance that looks like a martial arts contest on steroids, performed to the rhythms of drums and chanting. Next day we are in Maceio, a town known largely for its beaches. By now, Alice and Sumner are running down after many hours in the heat over several days. The temperature today is 98 degrees, and we, along with many fellow passengers, opted to stay on the ship. The next day is Recife--pronounced almost like "hissy fit," because the Portuguese pronounce R's at the beginning of a word like H's. We take a tour of the city (population 1.6 million) as well as the neighboring city of Olinda. The latter is a UNESCO World Heritage site, with grand homes, quaint churches, and handicrafts shops. The view from Olinda's heights overlooking the ocean are special indeed. Recife is the site of the first Jewish congregation in the Americas. The first congregation came here in the early 1600s to escape the Spanish and Portuguese Inquisitions. That was when the Dutch were in control of the colony, and provided a few decades of religious freedom. The initial congregation at one time numbered about 1,200 people. The Portuguese took control again, and sent inquisitors to rid the colony of Jews. The Jewish population was given 3 months to convert to Catholicism or leave. (Some converted, perhaps trying to preserve their Jewish heritage in private, others moved to Brazil's interior and assimilated, others settled in Curaçao in the Caribbean, and still others went on to New Amsterdam--now New York City--where they founded the first synagogue there.) The tour is accompanied by the ship's rabbi, who provides details. Recently, the site of the original synagogue was discovered, and, with outside funding of about $500,000, it has been rebuilt as close to the original structure as possible. Since it is a Saturday, we can't visit the interior, but Rabbi Edward has pictures of the interior. (Sumner and Alice have attended and enjoyed two Jewish services on the ship, and have also appreciated the camaraderie, good discussions, challah bread, gefilte fish and rugelach!) After visiting all these cities, we have two welcome sea days as we make our way to Belem at the mouth of the Amazon--the start of our next series of adventures.

Hot in Many Ways

Hot in Many Ways: First Days in Brazil We arrive at the city of Santos, Brazil on February 13--an hour late owing to strong winds and currents going against our northerly direction. The port authority there sends 10 officers aboard the ship to inspect our passports and make sure we all have our required Brazilian Visas. It takes quite a while to check and stamp 750 passports, so we leave for our tours two hours later than expected. This is Saturday, the last day of carnival, so shops are closed near the port. Santos, the largest port in Brazil, was the center of coffee exports when Brazil controlled the market. A factory the size of a football field employed many women who made the jute bags for the coffee. Here the coffee was tasted and graded. There is a coffee museum in the town, located in an elegant building that was formerly the city's Coffee Trade Palace, a marketplace for buying and selling coffee. We visit this place on our tour, but find that the museum's exhibits are mostly explained in Portuguese, so we only get a general feeling for how important this place was, and how huge the coffee industry used to be in Brazil. Sumner and Alice have a cool drink made of coffee and orange juice, a specialty here. We plan to take a tram--a century-old electric streetcar in this case--through the city's old town section near the port. While waiting for the tram to arrive at the station, we step into the Pele museum across the street. It celebrates one of Brazil's greatest soccer players, who was born and raised in Santos. We don't have time to see the exhibits, but we find seats in the sunny museum café and immediately connect to their fast and free wifi, a rarity in this continent. We settle in for 10 minutes of email downloads and see that all must be well back home, but there is hardly any time to write anyone--a constant frustration on this trip. The tram ride is pleasant, but less interesting than it might have been since many shops are closed and the streets are deserted. Most of what we see is dispiriting: much graffiti on peeling paint, small storefront retail shops selling inexpensive tourist gewgaws that had the look of Chinese manufacture, mom-and-pop cafés, a few old buildings that might have been noteworthy had they been in good repair. Currently lacking industry and unattractive to prosperous businesses, our guide says Santos is attempting to remake itself into a tourist destination, as well as a bedroom community for those who work in São Paulo, the huge city about 40 miles north. The cost of living is much cheaper here than in the more urban setting. Once we get away from Santos's city center, we see the main tourist attraction: broad sandy white beaches. We visit Gonzaga Beach, lined with hotels and high-rise condominiums that are more prosperous-looking than what's downtown. The thong bikinis worn by the women leave little to the imagination, especially from behind. People of all sizes stroll around the beach nearly naked, but seem to think nothing of it. The flavor of Brazil is clearly different from Argentina; their respective national dances exemplify this: tango is precise, passionate, suggestive but dignified, and (most especially) stiff-hipped, while the samba and other Brazilian dances are anything but stiff-hipped. We visitors were agog, and snapped many pictures. We consider what muscles are used to create "the Brazilian walk," but are at a loss as to how one gets the sensuous piston effect. We are in Rio de Janeiro for Sunday and Monday, February 14 and 15. Rio has a breathtakingly beautiful harbor and a magnificent skyline. Sumner and Alice have scheduled a "Best of Rio" tour, which compresses the city's major sights into 9 hours of 95+ degree heat. Since Sunday is not a workday, the beaches are crowded, as are the lines for the cable car to Sugar Loaf and the cog railway to Christ the Redeemer. Not only are many Brazilians visiting these sites en masse, but several other cruise ships are in port, so we are competing with thousands of other visitors for a place in line. The contracted tour company handles things well, but long lines, waits and crowds are unavoidable. Midway through the exhausting and sweltering tour, we spend 90 minutes at a Brazilian restaurant that serves meat table-side from skewers. Of particular note: the barbecued chicken hearts, pork and sausage. Most appreciated, though, were the chilled beverages. Alice has a Coke Zero with ice, and to her at this point in the day it is better than champagne. Sumner has a Brazilian beer and tries the Brazilian cocktail specialty, the Caipirinha. It is a concoction of Cahaca (a liquor distilled from sugar cane), sugar, many slices of lime, and ice. We are allowed two drinks with the meal, and opt to take away much-needed bottles of water for later. Sugar Loaf is a stellar must-see attraction. It takes two cable car rides to arrive at the pinnacle overlooking the city and its surrounding environs. Many rocky promontories and islands punctuate the sparkling blue water; from here we can appreciate how huge the harbor is. We are struck by the ample greenery in the city, and note the favelas (slums) that seem to be pouring upwards in the valleys of the hills. From a distance, these look colorful and quaint, but later during the bus ride we see how unsightly and sad the derelict homes look close-up. The Christ the Redeemer statue is huge, but we're surprised how small it looks from most vantagepoints. It may be a symbol of Rio, but it is not at all comparable in prominence to, say, the Eiffel Tower in Paris. We get to the site on one of many rocky promontories by way of a very slow cog railway. The views from this point are wonderful, as they were from Sugar Loaf. Hordes of other tourists make the experience less enjoyable, especially given the extreme heat. We are told that Rio is usually 10 degrees cooler, but there has been considerable warming in recent years. Last week we hear that the temperature hit over 110 degrees Fahrenheit, unheard-of in the past. We drive along the fabled beaches of Impanema and Cococabana, both beautiful swaths of white sand, with impressive waves crashing to shore. All around them are upscale condominiums and businesses. Rio, we conclude, is a first-world city--except, of course, for those favelas. We learn that Rio's population is about 9.5 million; at least a million of that number live in slums. Since we missed Rio's fabled Carnival by a few days, on Saturday evening Holland America brings in a group of Brazilian dancers and musicians to perform in the ship's theater on Sunday night. There are Samba dancers, drummers, and acrobatic Capoeira performers, whose moves look like a no-contact judo fight. The show is spectacular and loud, very very very loud, with lots of skin showing--rather like a show in Las Vegas, but on steroids. On Monday, it takes a full day on our blessedly air-conditioned ship to recover after Saturday's exhausting tour. We occupy ourselves by reading, doing laundry, and attempting to access the free wifi available in the port terminal--a futile effort, because too many other people are also trying to use it. (Imagine waiting 30 minutes to connect online, only to get knocked off after a few seconds.) When we walk a quarter-mile to get to the terminal we are very glad we didn't go exploring; the temperature and humidity were again stratospheric. We encounter fellow passengers who also opt to stay on board the ship. This is a shame, of course, because there is much more to see. The art museums sound especially interesting, for example, but we don't feel too disappointed because we learn they are closed on Mondays anyway. We sail away from glittering Rio at sunset, and not long after we begin our northward path up Brazil's coast we are treated to a spectacular show of lightening during a heavy rainstorm. We now know how hot it may be as our trip progresses to the equator, and are reconsidering some of the shore excursions we've selected. Between the heat, humidity and the Zika virus threat, we just may pull back from some of our ambitious plans in the jungle!

Two Days in Buenos Aires

Two days in Buenos Aires We are moored, February 9 and 10, amid a dock full of containers being noisily moved about by giant mobile cranes 24/7. The first day is considered a holiday, part of the Mardi Gras celebration and a time for vacations. We are lucky because this means the traffic will be lighter than usual. We take a shuttle ride through canyons of containers to reach the dock terminal area. There we meet our guide, and board our bus. Our voluble guide for both days, named Marina, is super enthusiastic about the city. She says she sees herself as Italian and Spanish, not Argentinian--and certainly not South American, although she was born here. "I am a 'porteña'," she proclaims, meaning a woman from this port city. (The male counterpart is a porteño.) She says Buenos Aires residents are different from other Argentinians--the city folks have the reputation of being loud and brash. Buenos Aires settled by Europeans starting in the late 1500s. They quickly dispatched the native peoples, and made the city feel like the countries they came from. On this first tour day we stop at parks and lakes, and see a downtown racetrack for Formula One cars, which are now electric to reduce the noise. We marvel at a 75-foot-tall shiny metal flower in a park in the Recoleta neighborhood. Made of the same material that sheaths Lockheed airplanes, it opens and closes based on the sunlight, just like a real flower. The architecture in this area is predominantly classical Beaux Arts French. We visit the elaborate and extensive cemetery where Eva Peron is buried; she is a cult figure among Argentinians. Families maintain their own tombs in this cemetery, a major tourist attraction, and many of their mausoleums--built during the city's economic boom times in the late 1800s through the late 1920s--have elegant architectural features, such as glass doors embellished with elegant iron scrollwork, elaborate carvings, and interior steps to reach up to six levels underground. We visit the cathedral that was the seat for the Archbishop who became Pope Francis. His friendship with the Jewish community (400,000) is documented in the cathedral along with a memorial to the Holocaust. The rose-colored government house is in the same area--the president's office is here, and he arrives each day by helicopter. As might be expected from Argentina's volatile political history, there was a demonstration occurring while we are in this part of the city, with hundreds of people camped out in the square facing the government house and the cathedral. Signs and banners demanded justice and evoked Eva Peron's name. We are told the peaceful demonstrators had lost their government jobs and were seeking money. To get from point to point, we must go through police barricades. The public seems to ignore what is happening, taking it in stride. We drive along the widest avenue in the world, 9 de Juleo Avenue; again, it is very French in appearance. Later in the day we are taken to the Puerto Madero area. This was the site of an earlier port built in the city. It became derelict after the new, more modern port was built, but now it is the site of urban renewal. There are many upscale shops, condos, office buildings and restaurants in the area. We enjoy an Italian dinner with wine; our guide cautions that the portions are huge, so we split an appetizer and entree (a house specialty: chicken lasagne with rosy sauce), and have plenty of delicious food for two. Our window looks out on the canal which flows through the area, now partially covered with flowers that have come down the river. After dinner we are bussed to one of the city's many tango theaters (ours is called Los Angelitos--"the little angels") for a professional tango show. The music is live, and the stage is two stories tall; the orchestra is visible on the second level while the dancers perform on the stage below. The passion and footwork are impressive. We try to imagine being able to master some of the steps we see--such as the male dancer's putting his leg around the woman's back while they whirl about the stage at about 20 miles an hour! We are back on the boat by 9 PM. The next day we visit the colorful painted buildings in La Boca, which also gives its name to a favorite soccer team. The area, with streets of cobblestone, is crowded with visitors and street performers, including tango dancers, hoping for money. It reminds us a bit of the French Quarter in New Orleans. Sumner has an Argentine beer, and both of us enjoy beef empanadas--baked, not fried like they usually are. Alice is delighted to have a very cold diet 7-Up, a unique event so far on this trip. On the drive back to the ship, we get a glimpse of the Buenos Aires slums we've heard about. These makeshift homes are tucked under bridges. Our guide says the Argentine economy has been suffering since the year 2000; before that, the Argentine peso was on par with the U.S. dollar; now the exchange ratio is 14 pesos to the dollar. We are warned, not for the first time, to show no flashy jewelry or iPhones; these can be stolen in a flash by pickpockets. Indeed, we later learn that a fellow passenger's Rolex watch was grabbed by a thief who whizzed by on a motorscooter. When we leave Buenos Aires and head up the coast to Brazil, we will have two more days at sea, and lose another hour. We are now three hours ahead of East Coast time.

Uruguay Surprises

Uruguay Surprises

The voyage from the Falklands to Montevideo was often in heavy seas, but gradually the winds lessened and the temperature warmed. By the time we docked in the capital city of Uruguay on Monday, February 8, we feel like we are in "South America" again, in contrast to the chill, white, barren and magnificent wilds to the south.

We take a tour of Montevideo for several hours, followed by a trip into the countryside for wine-tasting and a lunch. At first glance, the city center appears to be down-at-the-heels. From the port, we ride by apartments above street-level businesses where, without air conditioning, residents have left their windows open and we can see unmade beds and tattered curtains billowing over the sidewalks. Yet as we progress a few blocks, we realize that many of the older buildings are in the distinguished French architectural style of the turn of the last century. The main square features several outstanding buildings in that style as well as some older historic ones and a couple of nondescript modern highrises. We note that there's not much trash around, a welcome change to some cities we've seen.

Our enthusiastic guide is very proud of her relatively small country--its population is just over 2 million, with about 1.2 million in the Montevideo environs. Uruguay has the lowest population density and lowest birth rate in South America. Our guide extolls the country's longtime democracy, its universal healthcare system (bare bones, though people can pay extra for private insurance), and its free education through university. Interestingly, Uruguay requires that university graduates repay the cost of their educations once they surpass a certain income threshold. The repayments currently start at $20 a month, and will continue, presumably with increases pegged to inflation, throughout one's career, so long as the income level remains above a certain level. We're told that taxes are relatively high in order to pay for social programs and infrastructure. For example, the value added tax is 22%, and cars are very expensive because they're subject to a luxury tax that nearly doubles their cost. Despite that high tax, we note a number of newer cars on the streets. We pass a large hospital that looks like a dreary prison, but later see a much nicer-looking one, called the Italian Hospital, that serves private patients. The large soccer stadium, of bare-bones concrete, is festooned with the ever-present Latin American graffiti.

We quickly move through the dense downtown, with its historic buildings cheek-to-jowl with modern and/or boring newer structures, arriving at close-in residential neighborhoods bordering Montevideo's outstanding white sand beaches. As far as the eye can see, these beaches front a wide expanse of the Rio de la Plata as it moves toward the Atlantic Ocean, overlooked by numerous imaginatively designed high-rise condominiums. It is a holiday today, and our guide says residents who haven't gone to the ocean beaches (a favorite Uruguayan holiday destination, especially the resort called Punte del Este) are probably sleeping late. Still, we see many people strolling or jogging in the parks and along the beach, using provided exercise equipment along the edges of public spaces, or sitting in groups on the grass having coffee or picnics. As we drive along the waterfront parkway, we see a yellow stucco building that looks like a mosque, but we're told it's their natural history museum. "It's a museum of dead animals," the guide said rather dismissively, to Alice's consternation. Sumner wisecracked that minerals are dead too!

We notice that, unlike in other countries we've visited north of the Patagonia region, there doesn't seem to be a fear of theft in Montevideo; throughout our visit, we rarely notice windows covered with bars.

Our guide tells us that Uruguay is striving to be environmentally responsible, and shows us the sand dunes they're constructing along the beaches, using organic matter like palm tree fronds to plump out the barriers to erosion and flooding. She says Uruguay's economy is primarily based on agriculture, tourism, financial services and mining. Its main trading partners are Brazil and China. It's been importing oil and gas from Venezuela but is working toward energy independence by harnessing wind power.

We move through the "Gold Coast" of waterfront into the Uruguayan countryside, en route to a winery. On the way, we see groups of slum dwellings that appeared to have been around long enough to have a sense of organization, with dirt roads and street layouts. Sometimes you could tell that the residents of these settlements were gradually improving their very modest properties. Still, the poverty we saw was disappointing. Our guide assures us that all Uruguayans, regardless of status, know that their laws protect everybody.

We reach the winery and we are in another world--an upper-class world, as opposed to the poor, middle and upper-middle class worlds we have seen so far. The winery, an outgrowth of a family bakery business started by Italian immigrants over a century ago, is beautifully designed and maintained. Our visit includes a tour of the owner's private museum of antique cars and motorcycles, a visit to the winery and the vineyards, a tasting of four wine varieties, and a lunch that includes sautéed vegetables, beef, lamb, wonderful breads, and dulce de leche (caramel) flan for dessert. Delicioso! The meal is accompanied by live music and tango dancing--we learn that Uruguayans and Argentinians share this lively tradition. Throughout our time at the winery we are able to observe Uruguayan and other South American visitors as they spend a day off in the beautiful countryside enjoying the music, sipping wine and dining on the region's simple but extraordinary cuisine.

We purchase 2 bottles of wine - including a Merlo Tannat - which has notes of berry, tobacco, and chocolate - one of the wines from the tasting. The ship has a policy that they will wave the "corkage fee" if you have been on a sponsored visit to a vineyard. The ship makes money by selling drinks, and if you bring in your own liquor, they charge you a service charge. Still, that's better than their holding the wine until the end of the trip. The vineyard is "Bouza". You may be able to find it in the US.

Alas, no wifi was available during our tour. We look forward to two days in Buenos Aires, coming up next, expecting that such a large city would surely be more connected to the outside world.

Stanley and Going North

Port Stanley and the trip North

There was excitement in the Drake Passage on Thursday, February 4 as we approached the Falklands. Waves were 20 feet high, or higher. Many passengers confined themselves to their cabins. A dramatic moment occurred when, with the roll of the ship, enormous waves crashed onto the deck outside the dining room on the 7th floor. Dishes and glassware went sliding. Alice managed to save her food, which was trying to make an exit from the table. The staff acted reflexively fast, and there was little breakage. The whole thing happened so fast that we were momentarily stunned by the drama: those were super huge waves! We broke out in spontaneous applause that we'd come through unscathed. And surely we were not the only ones to give a thought to the perils encountered by the early explorers to this part of the world, and be grateful for our seaworthy ship with its safety technologies.

On February 5 we arrived at the Falkland Islands and its capital, Port Stanley. We were lucky: it's possible for our ship to land in the Falklands only about 20% of the time, due to rough seas. The harbor area is too small for the ship, so we take the long tender ride into the town. Less than 3,000 people live in the Falklands, although it is the size of Connecticut. There are two major islands and almost 700 small islands, most uninhabited. About 2,500 people live in the little town of Stanley.

Stanley has modest houses with lovely English flower gardens; most homes appear to have greenhouse-like appendages, which we later learn allow the residents to grow their own vegetables, as it's very expensive to import them. We are on the island to visit a Rock Hopper Penguin colony. These small penguins are on the Murrell Farm, 20 minutes outside of Stanley. It's a "modest" farm, "only" 10,000 acres, with lots of sheep and cows roaming in sparse grasses. The penguins are quite a distance from the fields across barren, stone-studded, uneven terrain. To navigate this very rough 12-mile route, we are loaded into 4x4 vehicles for the one-hour ride (each way, meaning our speed was only 5 to 15 miles an hour) to the colony on the coast. Tightly packed on hard seats, we lurch and bounce over the peaty heavily-rutted moor. The low-growing Lee Bush--whose tiny bright red fruit, called Diddle Dee berries, is used by the locals to make jam--is the primary greenery.

The penguins are perched on dark gray rocky cliffs overlooking the sea. Since they don't fly, it's a long and awkward climb for them from the sea to their nests. We observe mostly fuzzy gray adolescent chicks, with a few black and white parents standing guard. These penguins, one of five varieties, have V-shaped white eyebrows that give them a fierce look. The majority of parent penguins are out fishing to get dinner for their young. We have an hour with the penguins; like them we are buffeted by chilly winds. Then we have another hour-long rough ride back to the farm, and then we go on into Stanley in the 4x4s.

The island is independent, but it has a British military base to forestall another invasion. The Falkland war, in 1982, is evidenced by a memorial, abandoned watch towers, and a number of unexploded land mines left behind by the Argentines. Because we have visited the Falklands, our ship cannot go directly to Buenos Aires. Argentina not only will not trade with the Falklands, it does not allow ships that have visited the Falklands to come directly to Argentina from there. Ships carrying produce and other supplies used to come to the Falklands from Chile to Stanley before going on to Argentina, but now the ships tend to bypass the Falklands because, given the small market for goods, it's not worth a visit if the much larger Argentine market would not admit them. It was surprising that, nearly 35 years after the war, the conflict is still affecting the Falklanders so much. The subject is frequently in conversations. The Argentinians (called "Arggies" for short by some of the Falklanders) apparently coveted the islands' fishing industry and oil reserves.

We explore a supermarket in Stanley and observe how expensive produce is; it is no wonder that residents grow as much as they can. On the other hand, the meats available--especially the beef, lamb and mutton--look very good and are not much different in price than in the U.S. We are told that there was a shortage of eggs in the Falklands until the following week, and that our ship supplied all its extra eggs to help out. This will not be a hardship, as our ship will be able to re-supply in Montevideo. WiFi was sporadically available in Stanley, but at a ridiculous price; we continue to ask our friends' and families' forebearance, as we are not yet able to respond to your individual emails. (Maybe in Montevideo or Buenos Aires there will be liberal access? We can only hope.)

On Friday evening, we attend a Jewish Sabbat service on board, as we have become friendly with the ship's rabbi and his wife and are interested in learning more about the Jewish faith. There were about a dozen Jewish passengers in attendance and we enjoyed the service and the simple refreshments following, including, to our delight, gefilte fish, mandelbrot (delicious almond-based biscotti-like treats) and rugelach (crust rolled up like croissants, filled with nuts and honey). We later had dinner with this group in the main dining room and enjoyed the warmth of the people and their excellent lively conversation. Among them were two sisters from South Africa now living in Toronto, a retired Las Vegas-based pawnbroker named Henry who told an amazing story about finding his long-lost sister following the Holocaust, and a man named Nyron who, until retirement, headed the Far East office of the Associated Press. (When asked what news source he considers most reliable, he said The Financial Times--and expressed concern that the Chinese had recently bought it.)

We continue to play duplicate bridge when schedule permits, and are pleased to report that we are scoring in the middle of the pack, among some mighty strong contenders. There can be plenty of drama during a "silent" bridge game!

We are now sailing toward Montevideo, Uruguay--due to dock tomorrow. Then we'll backtrack to visit Buenos Aires on February 9. This is Super Bowl Sunday--and we will see the game if the satellite connection holds up. It will start here at 8:30 PM our time, as we are two time zones East of US Eastern time.

We are still in awe of the sights we saw in the Antarctic. In the Weddell Sea, for example, we saw a 130-mile-long iceberg that broke off from the Southern ice shelf. The National Science Foundation has placed a GPS on the iceberg, and has been tracking its movements for the last 10 years. We passengers still marvel about our astonishing experience, talking more about that than about our anticipation of the many outstanding (and warmer!) venues yet to be visited--though, of course, we do talk about the Zika virus, coming our way in Brazil. We will be traveling in the epicenter of the outbreak, and are ready with our DEET. The ship's leaders are keeping us informed, vigilant and as safe as possible. We learn today from another passenger that while 130 of our merry band, who enrolled for just the first half of the trip, will be disembarking at Buenos Aires, there will be only 30 new passengers boarding to take the second half of the South America circumnavigation. We wonder if this is because of the fear of exposure to Zika. If the problem is not brought under control, the economic impact to Brazil and other affected countries will be huge. We have heard that currently only Chile and Canada are considered "safe" in this hemisphere.

More Ice, Waves, and on to Port Stanley

The third day of cruising the Antarctic is fantastic. The absence of sea ice allows us to enter the Weddell Sea, where Shackleton's second expedition was caught in the ice. There's very little sea ice now because it's summer, but we see many large tabular icebergs floating around us, some of them hundreds of feet high. They have been loosened from the extensive Ice Shelf that covers the continent in the winter (our Summer), doubling the continent's size. By the end of the day, we turn toward Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands. Today we are in rough seas and gale-force winds in the South Atlantic), making our way North. We notice many fewer passengers around the ship. Many are staying in their rooms, perhaps uncomfortable with the ship's rolling, or maybe they're just reading and napping--favorite pastimes between the many activities available.

Although Antarctica holds 90 percent of the world's ice (70 percent of it's fresh water), it is the driest continent on earth. It has the highest average elevation of any continent. Because of these features, it makes an excellent site for a telescope. The 24-hour night during the winter, the height, and the lack of pollution make it almost the equal of the Hubble insofar as there are minimal atmospheric problems interfering with observation. NASA launches large balloons, which circle the continent in 40 days, following the prevailing wind currents. Research packages are then dropped for pickup, using small explosive charges. Antarctica is the engine for much of the southern hemisphere's weather and ocean currents. Research here holds the insights that we need to manage, and change, the rate of global warming.

Thanks to the Antarctic Treaty, the continent is managed cooperatively by those countries willing to undertake scientific activities for peaceful purposes. We have had daily briefings on the treaty, history, and ongoing research. it is clear from what we learn that the global warming issues are critical to resolve. The damage, according to our reports, may be reversible, but it will take 30 years or more to reverse course for the hole in the Ozone, and that will require concerted international efforts. As we undergo changes, warm-blooded animals (endothermic) adapt better and faster than cold-blooded ones (exothermic). If adverse change happens too fast, or we fail to correct ongoing warming, the endothermic creatures--such as the all-important krill in the South Atlantic Ocean, which is the dietary mainstay of the ocean ecosystem--will be harmed. We learned that increasing acidification of sea water can cause organism de calcification: their shells soften and dissolve. Our speakers are polite about addressing global warming, acknowledging that it is a controversial subject, but they lay out overwhelmingly convincing evidence that the Earth is in grave trouble.

The adaptation of animals to the environment here is impressive. Animals need to grow quickly to survive. A seal pup, for example, can gain 5 pounds a day by drinking his mother's super-fat milk.

Because of the weather, the show this evening has been changed. There is too much heaving to allow the dancers to perform their variety show. A pianist and a mime-comedian are being pressed into service. If things are not calmer by the morning, we may have to cancel our visit to Port Stanley.

We have now traveled 8,520 nautical miles on this trip, and we're just starting for home. What a wonderful adventure we are having!

February 2 - Antarctica Days

February 2 - Antartica Days

We are in the middle of 4 days cruising the coasts of Antartica. The first two days have been along the coast of the Antarctic Peninsula. Today we are in the South Shetland Islands.

The first day was overcast, with the cloud ceiling a few hundred feet above the ship, luminous and gray. We see icebergs of all sizes sculpted into fantastic shapes by the strong winds. There are large glaciers slowly gliding into the sea from the rocky snow-covered mountains on the shores of the mainland and the islands. Snow-covered cliffs disappear into the gray limitless sky. Occasionally there is a break in the gray allowing us to see some of the peaks beyond the shore. Antarctica broke off from the southern tip of South America, and the mountains we see are part of the Andes. We see whales and birds. The humpback whales we see are "logging." Although they are right next to the ship, all that is visible is their dorsal fin, which looks like a log on the water. The whales are here to feed on the Krill, and bulk-up for the trip north to their breeding grounds near the equator, opposite Ecuador. By the afternoon of the first day, snow begins to fall--so our view of the continent disappears behind a curtain of white. I guess we didn't escape the snow this winter after all. We cruise through Dalman Bay, Whilemena Bay, the Errera Channel, and Paradise Harbor. A quote by T.L.M. Sunter, a sea captain, in a guidebook provided by the ship summarized well what we are seeing: "....an unparalleled combination of grandeur, beauty, vastness, loneliness and malevolence...."

Antarctica, the size of the continental United States and Mexico together, is the highest continent on earth, due to the accumulation of snow. The center of this continent is the driest place on earth, but we won't visit there. We are cruising only the most accessible coastline. The second day is sunny and we see what we missed the first day. We are visited by 12 members from the United States' Palmer Station, one of three research stations the US maintains in Antartica. We have a briefing from the Station Chief, and a Q&A session with the team members. The station is part of the National Science Foundation's programs. For those who are interested, their web address is www.usap.gov. Some members of the team have been at all the US sites over the years. If the station at the pole had a tee shirt, one of them wisecracked, it would read "Ski Antartica: two inches of powder, over two miles of base." Under the snow base is the rocky continent of Antartica, compressed to about 300 feet high by the weight of 2 miles of snow. The team leaves in their inflatable Zodiac boats. Palmer station has less than 50 people during the research period--the Southern Hemisphere summer months. The South Pole is an excellent place for research, even particle physics. There is a study to detect neutrinos, the very small particles that pass through the earth, using holes drilled at the South and North Poles (to capture the particle's comings and goings.)

The largest terrestrial animal in Antartica is the wingless fly, about 4 cm in size. The larger animals, penguins, seals, whales, etc. spend most of their time in the water. There is an Antarctic ice fish, which has no hemoglobin; its blood is clear, not red. Most animals here have an antifreeze-like substance in their blood which stops internal ice from forming. Factoid learned yesterday during an hour-long lecture on penguins: they don't have short legs at all; instead, their legs are encased with skin and waterproof feathers down to their ankles, like harem pants, so their bodies stay warm while swimming.

We cruise by several Gentoo penguin colonies and are warned about the smell--but we don't detect that smell from indoors. The sights are lovely, with long days to allow for maximal enjoyment. The sun rises at about 4:30 am and sets at 10:27 pm. Sumner and Alice have drinks in the Crow's Nest watching the sun set while listening to Bert Bacharach (sp?) tunes on the piano.

We are currently on our way to the Antarctic Sound, which will have spectacular views, if the weather holds--and perhaps more whale sightings too. We expect one more day in the South Shetlands before we leave for the Falkland (Malvinas if you're Argentinian) Islands.

The outdoor temperatures are just above freezing; passengers willing to brave walking the decks in mid-morning are being treated to hot and hearty soups. A good number of people have colds or have been seasick (when the winds are high, bags for this purpose are attached to stair railings). We overhear occasional grousing by some passengers who think we are spending too much time cruising this gorgeous cold and barren scenery, but in the main the passengers, like us, are fascinated with this astonishing and very foreign place. We often wish we could look things up online to learn more--but alas, we can't do that. We are now at Day 29 of being without access to the Internet, with the exception of the few minutes needed to post these chapters to the blog. If we tried to include photos, this uploading process could take hours. Today in the library, Alice overheard a woman complain to her husband that she had paid for 20 minutes of satellite connection time to access one website that still had not loaded. But our 29-day regime of Internet isolation pales so much with the isolation of the many explorers to this region of years past who suffered enormously, often without even having sunshine with which to get their bearings. Now, at least, the ships traveling here have sonar and other navigational methods to allow us to wend our way safely through daunting icebergs as we navigate strong waves of 20 to 25 knots.