A³

This morning at 5am I woke up; I suspect that it had to do with a change in the rhythm of the ship. Obviously, my aging prostate didn’t really mind either. It looked as if we had taken a turn into a tributary of the Amazon to dock in small a place called Santana, about 15 miles beyond Macapà. Small, in this case, means 100000 people.

Before moving on, let me dwell a minute on geography. Macapà has half a million inhabitants, is situated smack on the equator and is the capital of Amapà, the northernmost state of Brazil. An estimate, based on Google Maps, shows the state to be about 60000 square miles, of which 70% is primary, virgin jungle; only 2%of its native forest has been cut, a Brazilian record. Roads are virtually non-existent. The area is so isolated that there are no English-speaking guides. We had people from the nearest city, Belèm, on the southern bank of the Amazon delta, 200 miles away. That translates into a boat trip of 1 day, alternatively a flight of 40 minutes.

The climate is – what else did you expect? – equatorial. The diurnal temperature fluctuates between 24 and 36°C (72 – 96F). There are two seasons: a rainy season and a dry one. In the former it rains all the time (dec-jun), in the latter it rains every day, dixit Alvaro, our “branco” guide (whose English is exemplary). The difference, he says, is expressed in terms of intensity and duration. The dry season sees intense downpours of 5 minutes each; in the wet season the daily showers lasts longer and are more frequent.

Rather hen going overboard on factual data, I better turn to the remarkable events of the day! Well, around 8am all was ready to leave the ship and transfer to the city. We would visit the “Macapà Highlights”, that means: the “Fortaleza de São José”, de local indigenous Art(esinal) Market, the open air museum Sacaca and the “Monumento Marco Zero”.

Apart from Sacaca, there is not a lot to bend over for. To be honest, in Sacaca the fruit was hanging high and, consequently, bending over to get it was not productive either. Moreover, stretching to pick it off the branches was formally forbidden, as well. Anyway, there was an enormous diversity of exotic fruits, which are unknown in North-America or Europe. “Aisa”, for instance, is a small black berry with a lot of big seeds inside and precious little juice. However, these days it is feverishly chased by big international food- & pharmaceutical industries because it contains an inordinate amount of anti-oxidants. They would love to make a multitude of life-craving Westerners druggily dependent on this elixir, and reap the profits!

Which lessons did I learn today?

The first one, chronologically speaking, was that it is impossible to just point-and-shoot! I am taking photography here. My first picture of a Panamanian freighter that was loading wood chips off our stern was not exactly what I expected. It turned out a little steamy, to say the least! Condensation was to blame, and it wasn’t just a thin layer! Binoculars and reading glasses suffered the same ailment. Leaving any kind of cool place requires acclimatizing, and that applies to all bodies and materials. For glass you should count on a few minutes in Amazonas. With regards to getting out of busses, the problem has been solved: from here on, there will be no more air-conditioned buses along the Amazon! It will be sweaty but you can point-and-shoot at your leisure. As always, whether you are at the Equator or at the South Pole, every medal has two sides (I hope to reconfirm that within exactly two months).

The second lesson has to do with water. Rain forest experts don’t stop emphasizing that one has to drink a lot, preferably water. They claim that there are drinking techniques that assure that the water doesn’t run too fast in its natural direction – downward that is! Indeed, the purpose of the exercise is that the water hydrates the body and not that it wakes up a sleepy prostate. How do we accomplish this? Simple: you take one small mouthful of water, let it glide underneath your tongue, where it bobbles a few times from one side to the other, before you swallow it. In other words it is not cluckcluckcluckcluck but rather cluck—cluck—cluck—cluck. I have tried it and am not unhappy with the result. (And my prostate had a quiet, sleepy afternoon as well)

The third lesson has to do with language. Obviously, one day is too short to learn an indigenous language, isn’t it? Well, in the state of Amapà, one can make real quick progress. My attention was drawn to the fact that all local words for plants and some animals (not the Brazilian of Portuguese names) can be reduced to combinations of simple syllables, such as: ma, ca, pa, ba, sa, si, sai, bo, oia, po, ga, li, bi, waia, pi. This series is not exhaustive but quick & dirty math tells me that by combining them into two, three or four syllable words, you can already construct a few thousand words that people of Amapà will understand. The only problem is, most likely, that you yourself might not understand them which, at times, can be somewhat annoying.

These observations summarize the events of the day, apart from a few lingering subconscious sentiments. For starters I felt relieved, happy or otherwise joyous, to finally see a street filled with youthful female charm, and comparable attractive attributes. No surprise, I hope?! The second is, in fact, too complex to explain in the time that I have left here (it is already almost midnight). It concerns a lyric impression regarding the tension between sea and river, Atlantic Ocean and Amazon.

Personally I find it quite moving but I lack the energy, at this moment, to delve into it. I will revisit the subject tomorrow unless … the planned Piranha Fishing would end in disaster but, for now, I won’t worry about that either!

Ah, I almost forgot! I stood also across the Equator, “Marco Zero”: one leg in the southern hemisphere and one in the northern. I have to admit that it creates a somewhat strange feeling between the legs …

Prinsendam, Tuesday January 13, 2011, 2345hrs

Towards the First Meeting of Waters, in Santarem

Uninterrupted days and nights of rough seas, as a consequence of heavy swells from the Northeast (says the captain time and again), intermittently enhanced by a stiff breeze, have been our share for many tens of hours now. On my balcony there was a carpet of filthy salt. It is caused by the spray from the waves that gets scooped up by the wave-razing winds as misty pellets, carried along and smashed into the ship, where they just drop dead – pun intended! The ubiquitous sun burns off the water and what stays behind are “the ashes of the spray”: a salty smudge – on the guardrails, on the ground and on the deckchairs…. Until a (fresh water) cloudburst rinses it out, such that we can start all over from a clean sheet, so to speak.

Welcome to the tropics! That is where we have landed meanwhile, and the “land” part was welcome after all the bouncing around. However, before we could enjoy the steadiness, we had to embark in the tenders who brought us to shore. Even in calm waters this ride feels like a bucking horse – with loopinglike ups and splashing downs. Luckily we were only a couple of miles out.

Les Iles fu Salut – the Salvation Islands, colonized in 1640 and turned into a penal colony after 1789. That was one of the accomplishments of the great “Révolution” with its “Liberté, Fraternité and Egalité”. Without a doubt many brothers, freed of the burden of Freedom, have indeed been treated here without Equal! When you approach them in the morning sun, you would rather think of them as Tahiti-next-door, full of lush life, Eden – with a grain of salt!

Apart from a platoon of Young French Légionnaires, a sober hotel and an office of ESA (European Space Agency), we find only a few morbid ruins and much terrestrial life. About the former, there is not much to tell. And the French tourist authorities seemed to agree because there was precious little Information. In the last building (the quarters of the Commandant), there was a picture of 19th century commander. He looked quite civilized and intelligent. I could not resist wondering what kind of man he was upon arrival, and what kind of man he had become at the end of his tour of duty. For sure, the apparent violence of this place does not leave anyone untouched, and unchanged.

The vivid life in this earthy paradise was much more interesting. The all-encompassing wealth of greens – low, high and very high, often carrying delicious looking fruits, was fascinating. The palm trees appear to touch the heavens, with ripening coconuts around their noble necks en wasted coco shells around their decaying feet. Part of the show was my first sighting of apes in the wild. The little morsels were alert and not shy nor scared, meandering around bushy branches and frolicking with their funny friends. My American companions called them “green apes”; I tend to believe that is simplification: lovely animals like that deserve a nicer name! Of course, there are colorful birds and surprisingly wild chickens. What some thought would be a mongoose, was later explained as an agouti, a scurrying vegetarian rodent. They obviously didn’t have as much fun as the apes!

As we concluded our first day in the “wild”, with tasty venison, we had set sail for the Amazon, heading for the “Barrier”. Surprisingly perhaps, the Amazon doesn’t start where the land ends. No, it starts 200 miles out in the ocean: that far out the river still noticeably deposits some of its millions of tons of sediments. At its sole entry point, an opening often only 30ft deep, the Barrier seems to be the invisible demarcation of the “Silty brown lagoon”.

On our way to the first A in the A³ Grand Voyage, the captain had distributed a letter about conservation of water during the next 10 days, as the ship’s evaporators could not handle the Amazon water. When the toilet flush – same system as in airplanes – didn’t work this morning, I wondered whether he had meant it that strictly! Upon my inquiring with housekeeping, the friendly lady said that it was not the captain’s wish but a generalized, unforeseen problem, and the engineers were working on it! Great, because it meant that the cooks didn’t have to change their much appreciated menus!

Meanwhile we have navigated the entry point successfully, waiting for the high water at 1500hrs. I heard that we had 8ft to spare under the keel. As we steamed onwards, at much reduced speed, the propellers produced a brownish kaki trail behind us. Welcome to the Amazon!

Prinsendam, Wednesday January 12, 2011, 1600hrs

Looking the Amazon in the Mouth

Our first so-called “Day at Sea” was very long, and open wide. Cloudy it was too, threatening rain in the morning, literally held up by the heavy, moisture-gathering wind. And the humid heat took possession of the open decks by mid-afternoon.

Just before leaving the Caribbean, almost two days ago, the wind picked up and the seas become rough. All the water, the wind and the ship were headed for the small gap (25mi) between Martinique and Santa Lucia. As I had already experienced a few stomach-hiccups during the afternoon, which I had been unable to quell with Pina Colada in the quiet windless and open blue ‘Crowe’s Nest’, sleep came difficult and haltingly. I was sure that I wasn’t seasick (never been before) but took a pill nevertheless. Placebo usually works as well!

At 7am we were in Bridgetown, Barbados, and I was wide awake although not in great form! My stomach was not yet quiet bowl, but the waters looked like mirrors. I decided on toast and jam, no more but also no less, because I had to step ashore and did not intend to faint, neither to throw up!

“Barbados with a professional photographer, learning to deal with tropical light”. The excursion was billed for beginner, amateur and professional alike. The latter should have made me suspicious enough to forego it all together and opt for a straight tourist excursion. The guy was pleasant, knowledgeable and passionate about his island and entertaining, showing and explaining us nice pictures that he had taken! His mother of 92 for instance, who had stopped teaching last summer and looked a healthy seventy, without tinkering!

We got wiser about other Barbadian secrets. Did you know that Barbados is #2 in the world for centanerians? Sure, a dive in the ocean each morning, fresh fruits, plenty of fish and clean air, purified over 4000km.

It is evident that rum is the national drink and they say that “one glass of rum a day, keeps the arteries clean and the liver okay”. Good to know isn’t it? He also mentioned that Barbados is leader in the civilized world for amputees. Helloo? Toes, mostly!

As we sailed away under a setting sun I was still smiling at the riddle that we were given: one sour, two sweet, three strong and four weak, rara what is it?

Today has been relatively rough, 25knot winds have whipped up some creamy waves. There are a few hooky pitches and elliptic rolls now and then – unexpectedly of course! -, but in general I had the impression that we were either skating or, perhaps skimming the waves. Tomorrow Devil’s Island, to meet Papillion!

Prinsendam, Saturday January 10, 2011, 1800hrs

6° N, 55°W, finally on the map, in South American Waters,

Our first so-called “Day at Sea” was very long, and open wide. Cloudy it was too, threatening rain in the morning, literally held up by the heavy, moisture-gathering wind. And the humid heat took possession of the open decks by mid-afternoon.

Before this slow newsday started though, the captain had decided to change “Ship’s Time” to EST+1, UTM-4, Brussels-5. For short, and for general understanding, it is called “Atlantic Time”, as if the ocean can be squeezed into one time zone. Let it be said that the captain’s decision was not based on a straw poll of the passengers. Getting up an hour earlier, largely unexpected and still unadjusted, was not their first choice. Knowing that democracy is only suited to run countries, they didn’t hold a sit-in either.

Before moving any further, an apology is due. Indeed, I announced that we would make the Hispaniola / Puerto Rico passage on the same day that we left the Bahamas. Did I imagine me riding in my BMW M5? Was it Inertia at work? Let it be said: the sea is not in a hurry, and speeding is a very relative concept for the Prinsendam! Therefore, add 24 hours to my estimate and blame it all on your inexperienced servant. Wiser now, I can confirm that if you add another 30 hours you will find us arriving in Barbados: at 6am on January 9.

Nitpicking through yesterday’s “events”, an example of my good manners comes to mind. There was this old(er)couple for whom I held a (non-automatic) door open, so that they could pass without having to worry about being pushed over, or back, by the hydraulic door pump. With “Thank you, young man”, they expressed their gratitude. How right they were, saying “Yong Man” on this ship and on this voyage. Within this context, it is self-evident that a man of 25 would nigh be considered kindergarten-grade. But, as there is no prep school (except for internet “proficiency”), there are no 25-year olds neither. Adolescence begins at 60 on Prinsendam.

On the second Day at Sea, the clock didn’t change but the sun didn’t know. Consequently, the passengers didn’t have to rise earlier and all were in synch on lunch hours and the like. The sun though, she rose much earlier, and climbed a bit higher in the sky. After leaving Barbados and steaming in a straight southeasterly direction for more than two days, we have lost 14° of length and 11° of latitude. Solar time, steady as a rock, tells the true story, no matter how much the captain fiddles around with his, and our clocks.

I have meanwhile come to realize two things. First, the essence of time changes down here, in these wide and empty expanses – there is tons of it, and the true length of this voyage is starting to sink in. It will definitely push me outside of my “comfort zone”. According to plan, so to speak! Second, all of sudden I got this strange idea, around noon today, that I was in front of a “Wall of Freedom”. Until know gym-ming, jogging, eating, reading and blogging have filled time and space, but today I was short of “filler”. A wall to scale: fata morgana? sunstroke? None of it, and no alcohol either. I have put on my climbing gear – so to speak – and went straight to the Crowe’s Nest, in the front, at the top. A cozy oasis of silence and calm. The Piña Colada went very well with my revisiting Spinoza’s writings about substance. It feels like the climbing has already begun …

At this moment we are sailing close to the gap between Martinique and Santa Lucia, to regain the Atlantic. The wind has picked up considerably and the target gap is just 25 miles wide. The waves are having a ball. An hour from now, when wind, water and ship squeeze through this little hole, rock and roll could enhance our dreams while we (try to) sleep!

Prinsendam, Saturday January 8, 2011, 2300hrs

On the Road to Barbados [better: On the Wave)

When I savored the fresh pineapple on Wednesday morning in the hotel, I hadn’t heard from Luggage Forward. For all I knew it could still be Luggage Wayward. After the pineapple, melon, scrambled eggs and accompanying bacon, had found a quiet place to convert themselves into energy, the agent called with the good news that my luggage had left Cincinnati Customs at 2347hrs, and that it had stante pede been transferred to a plane bound for Miami, where it had arrived at 0700hrs. The truck trip to Ft. Lauderdale was now just a formality, the M ‘am said.

At 11am we got on a bus, to the Sea Terminal.. When it was almost full, the lady in charge asked whether everybody was on board, and she meant it! From the reactions of various passengers it was obvious that Alzheimer had not seriously affected the group. The laughter encouraged her to start counting … As much as the passengers profile matched the cynical predictions of some cruise connoisseurs, I was personally surprised about and impressed by the courage and perseverance of many grossly overweight or unfortunately disabled guests! CONATUS in action!

The rest of the day was filled with good news. First, they bumped me to a better “stateroom”, although they didn’t know about my extra space requirements for my shoulder rehab. Secondly, once on board I quickly realized that I was young enough to be a crew member rather than a passenger and, thirdly, bag after bag, my luggage trickled in. It could have been worse.

The ship sailed around 6pm, on our nocturnal way to Half Moon Cay, Bahamas. When I looked outside my cabin in the morning, I noticed that the balcony floor was quite wet. Had we had rain or a storm? The latter seemed unlikely because I didn’t notice any unbecoming leftovers on my pillow.

It had been rain all right. In fact, the wind blew at 20kts and the waves were about 6ft. Putting out the tenders to go ashore required extensive maneuvering. When I stepped out to have a look, I noticed the Maasdam opposite from us. Listening to the Cruise Director’s message one could safely assume that the bridge officers had noticed it too! No panic.

American combativeness doesn’t linearly decrease with age. I knew, but got another example early this morning. Indeed, as I politely let an older gentleman and his wife pass in front of me at the gym entrance with the words: “Age before beauty, Sir”, he quipped back: “You consider yourself beautiful?” Taking the high road, I padded him kindly (and prudently) on his frail shoulder and realized that I hadn’t shaved! That explains …

Tomorrow night we have our first formal dinner, at sea. I admit that my dark suit doesn’t sit comfortably; I had a pre-boarding plan to improve on that. The concerted effort continued after the fitness, with the breakfast: two slices of rye bread, two tranches of peppered tomato, some raw salmon and NO butter, NO eggs, NO chocolate, NO croissants. It is a tall order but you can’t say that I am not doing my very best, for now.

Tomorrow will be a day at sea, between Hispaniola and Puerto Rico and then on to Barbados. Now that I have mostly recovered from the race-to-get-there, I will spend some time on the subject of “Conatus”.

Prinsendam, Thursday January 6, 2011 at 2300hrs

North of Hispaniola (where Columbus discovered “Americans”, so to speak)

Rather ordinary was my sending off: flight DL 125 to Atlanta. I must have taken it fifty times over the last twenty years. When Carine dropped me off at the Kiss&Ride I had trouble, shrouded in the pregnant darkness, to withhold a tear or two. Surely, that was out of the ordinary, as was the solar eclipse (of which the darkness was pregnant!) I took quite a few pictures but realize that the upload wire travels with my “big luggage”. No pictures then!

The flight itself was uneventful, with one exception. My neighbour in 31G happened to be a young lady, dressed in black. As soon as we were close to cruising altitude, she got rid of her black sweater, not without ostentatiously making neighborly waves – so to speak. I couldn’t NOT notice it. Underneath she was wearing a summer “cloth” with a plunging neckline that made me think of the Gironde Estuary: her nude shoulders represented the mouth at the Atlantic and her navel had to depict Bordeaux (invisible, by the way, from the river mouth!).

Cool it was, and also in the plane it was relatively cool. To top it all off she grabbed a paperback entitled: “How to Marry a Multi-Millionaire”. Let’s be clear, even though one could interpret all her moves as “seduction” ,I don’t think she was targetting me. She looked smart enough to know that her prospect base was in the front of the cabin, not in row 31 of Economy Class.

Anyhow, without my having discerned any goose bumps on her “exposés” – I admit that I stole a few views and had already turned down my own ventilator – she huddled up after a short while, covering her whole body in a black bear parka, with cap … dozing off in quasi-hibernation.

In the aftermath I was pondering two questions: 1) who writes, and who publishes, such a book? And, 2) why does someone buy and read such a book? By the way, the book contained a list of the top separated, divorced, single or widowed Billionaires (no less), with Paul Allen heading the list of prey. Luckily I had a chance to discuss it all with her, but won’t take your time here to expand on it!

Meanwhile, US Customs in Cincinnati seems to have a party looking at my forwarded luggage! Rumor has it that it has been cleared in late afternoon. That means it would arrive here tomorrow morning, after a 10 day journey. However, with prudence prevailing, the luggage people advise me to pack “a small bag” to cover a couple of days! And to think that all this stuff doesn’t even get used in the States!

Anyway, in order to find the strength to write this particular entry, after I arrived at the hotel at 2030hrs, I decided to order a Cesar Salad. I may add that the Zinfandel (Napa Cellars, 2005) went down well with it! Now I can wish myself a good night’s sleep.

D-day is approaching fast. It is tomorrow, Jan. 4th. And winter has retreated somewhat in Brussels so that planes are back to a normal schedule.

Once again, as I have done at least twice in the past for new jobs, and new friends, I will take Delta 125 out of Brussels to Atlanta. This Grand Voyage will thus begin on a familiar note, with a stop at Hartsfield Int’l. My first visit there dates back to 1982. It was much smaller then, and the southern drawls seem to have been longer!

As soon as I will have passed border control though, it will be different: instead of MARTA to the north end of Atlanta, I will be getting off the Airport Metro to catch a flight to Fort Lauderdale. Last time I was there, was in 1985 – for work, of course, conducting a reference visit at Bendix Avionics with Volvo Cars from the Netherlands. Both companies have meanwhile been subsumed in the grand globalization drive.

This time around, Fort Lauderdale will be the real beginning of the Grand Voyage, right at Port Everglades, where the ms Prinsendam and, presumably also my forwarded luggage, will be awaiting me to board, on Wednesday, in the afternoon.

This morning I did the “final hand luggage packing”, medicines, computer and photo gear, some underwear and a shaving machine: twelve kilos maximum, peanuts, so to speak! As you can see from the accompanying picture, I am prepared for the worst: Malarone against malaria, Imodium against any King’s Revenge and … Postaphene. Not directly a common name I gather. The fact that it comes in tablets and in “sputniks”, gives away some of the mystery. The sputnik is indeed the brute force weapon of choice against sudden sea sickness, especially when your timing was off!

I will be prepared for the Drake Passage!

Another severe winter in Brussels, 4°C below normal, causing the normal rain to turn into blushy snow, somber skies without even a glimmer of hope, i.e. sun! ? That is our share again this year. Skin is suffering from the ubiquitous low humidity and, once you have entered into the second half of life that shows: red spots all over, continued itching and apelike scratching. Apart from the dreamy scenery after a fresh snowfall, it isn’t a joy-instilling sight around here these days.

Luckily I don’t have to make a rash decision to flee this mess; that decision was made months ago and I reap additional benefits today. My skin will undoubtedly recover quickly on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean and the Tropic of Cancer.

After many days of diligent preparation I got the website in good-enough working order and got my luggage sorted, administered and shipped. If all is well the luggage and I will meet again in Fort Lauderdale on January 5, on the pier. “All is well” has many “ifs” attached to it. Obviously there is the weather as an “if”. There is also the Homeland Security in the USA that might decide to have a closer look. Where is the time that we could just take a plane and fly? A mere 10 years ago I flew all over the world without too many serious inconveniences or nagging uncertainties. These days it is one big hassle. And sending your luggage “solo” so to speak doesn’t solve all the problems.

Moreover, it is more expensive to send my luggage to Florida than I pay for my plane seat. It reminds me of the year that I paid less for the plane ticket from Brussels to London City Airport than I paid for the taxi from the airport to our London office. In all fairness: the 8 mile drive also took as long as the 200 mile flight. Aristoteles will like it: a sillogism turned inside out!

The next days I will celebrate the end of 2010 and waltz into 2011, with family and friends. And I will pray a little bit: read my lips – NO MORE SNOW (at least until Jan 4th)