Sailing

I should say something about our trip. We had a 30-year wedding anniversary in February and so we took a cruise to celebrate. I read LeeAnn's blog about the trip and this one isn't going to be as extensive. She went to the Western Caribbean, and so it must have been her evil twin who was on my Eastern Caribbean cruise with me. I had lots of fun with whoever it was.

I was a little concerned that she or we might spend seven days being seasick because of an experience we had deep sea fishing in Oregon a few years ago. But neither of us were at all troubled, even when we traded the ship for a small boat to go snorkeling. Anyone want to buy $50 worth of scopolamine patches? Maybe we should go back to Oregon this summer and catch salmon.

Being on the ship was nice in a way. It was very comfortable and the crew was fantastic. If I could only get camp staffs to treat their guests half as nicely. (Of course their guests don't plunk down $$$$ for a week in the wilderness.) We got to see lots of places in a short amount of time: two US possessions and four sovereign countries in a week. And we only unpacked 3 times. (Once on the ship and twice in hotels on either end.) But there were so many things that would have been wonderful to see within 20 miles on each island that we had to pass up because the ship sails at 1700 hours every day. There were a couple of islands in particular that I was very reluctant to leave because I had the feeling that I was missing something spectacular. We could only choose one or two things to do at each port-of-call. Maybe we should try one of the "all-inclusives" on one island someday and visit every corner of it.

We beach-bummed on Antigua. Just hopped a cab to Harrison's Beach and sat the day away. LeeAnn kept asking if I was OK. Normally sitting in one spot, especially in a new place, will make me nuts. But I was really content. I listened to and watched the surf, watched the people, and just let the friendly climate envelope me. I was content for that day.

...salt air, it ain't thin. It'll stick right to your

skin. Make you feel fine. Make you feel fine.

--Tin Cup Chalice

Jimmy Buffett (Who else?)

I can see why people can get stuck down there. But there are two other things to say. First, I had an experience at the ship terminal in San Juan. We were coming off the ship and headed to US customs. Remember, we were only gone for six days--five really since our first island, St. Thomas, is a US territory. And we were only visiting the tourist areas of friendly countries while we were gone from the United States; but when I saw the flag on the shoulder of the Border Patrol agent at the bottom of the ramp I just teared up. The world is full of wonderful places full of wonderful people. But there is no blessing to compete with the blessing of calling the United States of America "home". I couldn't get stuck for long anywhere else.

The other thing that needs to be said comes with getting off the plane in Salt Lake. Mountain air is thin. And to be truthful, it scrapes at your skin. You can't say it's "friendly" at all. But there's a wild, free feeling out here in the mountains and deserts. The earth here gives no quarter; you forget to respect her and she'll slice and dice you and stack your remains on the pile where the rest of the unwary bleach in the sun. But there's also the smell of "anything possible" that I've never experienced anywhere else. (The South island of New Zealand came close.)

Yea, something in me loves living where you have to fight for your oxygen.

It's good to be home.

Besides. It's where most of the people I love are.