January 2015 Articles

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Cruising

Cruising
During the last week of December, at the very end of 2014, my mother, myself, and my two little sisters, Dana and Blair, traveled to Mexico on a five-day Carnival cruise departing from New Orleans. This cruise was my mom’s idea, and she was very excited about it. It had been thirty years since she had last visited Mexico; she loved the beautiful beaches, the crystal clear water, and wanted to return and visit. So, sometime in the fall, she bought cruise tickets and convinced my sisters and myself to travel with her. My dad, on the other hand, refused. He said “I haven’t lost anything in Mexico,” and my mom said, “Okay!” and left it at that. Instead, Daddy stayed at home to watch Boots, Mama’s cat, and Charlie, Dana’s dog. Later, Daddy said he wished he’d gone with us, but I’m sure the animals appreciated his feeding them, and we know how he likes to bond with Charlie, so hopefully he didn’t miss us too much.
On Saturday, December 27, the four of us drove through rain and cold to arrive at New Orleans at 1:00 in the afternoon. We then climbed aboard the Carnival cruise line, moved swiftly through security, and proceeded to enter the boat. As usual, my sisters were a handful. They made fun of my clothes (my cap, my cargo shorts, my t-shirt, my backpack) and said I looked like a typical tourist, and a dorky one at that. We had to take at least twelve separate pictures before boarding the boat (trust me, I counted), and if didn’t smile widely enough, Mama would fuss at me and tell me to straighten up. “Another picture? Really?” I’d say, but she’d just tell me to shut up and smile while the camera flashed, and then we’d move on to the next photo-op. Already, traveling with three girls was beginning to take its toll on me, and staying with Charlie and Boots didn’t sound so bad.
On the boat, however, things were better, because we could watch as we sailed down the Mississippi and on towards the Gulf of Mexico. The breeze was so strong, I almost lost my cap, but together, the four of us stayed on deck and watched the sun set over the water. It was very beautiful, but for the next day and a half, all we would see was water. It’s incredible how the Gulf looks when you’re sailing, the blue extends to the horizon in all directions and never seems to stop. Of course, despite the food and the many fun activities on the boat, I soon began to experience a little of what the old sailors once called “cabin fever,” except each time I returned to my cabin, I had to share it with three women, which probably exacerbated the symptoms. Indeed, the room was so small, that if Daddy had come, someone would’ve had to sleep in the bathroom, or on the floor. Daddy and I would probably have had to draw straws for that privilege, but once again, when you’re living with three women in a tiny compartment, well, that’s just how it works.
Finally, we reached the small island of Cozumel, and I was thrilled to leave the boat. Cozumel means “Island of the Swallows” and earned its name thanks to the many migrating birds that call it home during various seasons of the year. We all soon learned why the birds stay there: it’s hot, even in winter. In truth, it felt hotter than even New Orleans in summer, and we all wore shorts and t-shirts, sunglasses and sunscreen as we disembarked to meet our tour group leaders in a small parking lot next to the docks.
In the lot, we were divided into groups and each assigned a rickety Jeep Wrangler. As I could drive a standard, the girls designated me the driver, and we quickly lined up behind the other Jeeps and formed a convoy that would leave San Miguel, Cozumel’s only city, on the way to several different sites on the island. In my opinion, this leisurely drive was the best part of our visit to Cozumel, as we were able to gaze at the beautiful white-sand beaches, the gorgeous tropical forest, and the deep blue of the Caribbean Sea just a few yards away. The only hitch, of course, was when we ran out of gas. I had asked the guide at the parking lot if we needed to fill up, as the gauge said empty, but he reassured me with the typical Mexican rejoinder, “Don’t worry!” Well, wouldn’t you know, of all the Jeeps in the convoy, ours’ would go dead. It kept stopping, and I had to keep cranking it back up, and of course the girl’s blamed it on my driving, but just ask Mama, it was out of gas. Finally, we convinced the guide to switch Jeeps with us; he took ours, poured some Tequila in it, and afterwards, it ran fine for him.
Our drive consisted of three stops: first, to see a lagoon filled with saltwater crocodiles; second, to climb up in an old lighthouse and view the island’s scenic beauty from above; and finally, to snorkel underwater alongside one of Cozumel’s coral reefs. This last activity took the longest and required the most physical exertion. We were each given flippers, a life-jacket, a snorkel and some goggles, and then they turned us loose. They shouldn’t have. Mama and I had immediate problems just entering the water: I tripped over my flippers, and Mama fell down about ten times in the surf. “Sir, sir, enter backwards!” yelled the guide, so I walked backwards into the water and pulled Mama free from the sandbar and the seaweed and let her float out to sea. Now, the goal of this excursion was to have a leisurely swim and to gaze at the underwater beauty of Mexico’s coral reef, but although we did see a wide variety of fish, as well as a stingray and a starfish, navigating one’s way through the surf in all that cumbersome snorkel gear and alongside thirty other snorkelers turned this swim into something more akin to a stampede of elephants in a big splashing puddle. At times, I was so disoriented I didn’t know where I was swimming: I kept bumping into people, filling my snorkel and goggles with water, and getting those darn flippers stuck on the corral. Dana swam off with a different family, thinking it was us, and Blair bumped right into a pelican who was floating on the water; she saw his blue feet in front of her goggles when she hit him, and he squawked at her. As for Mama, I was deathly afraid that she would drown in this madness, and so I followed her as closely as I could, remembering the whole time Daddy’s words: “Take care of your Mother!” Oh, Lord, please don’t let her drown!” I kept praying, and I meant it, as I thought I might drown myself at any moment. Needless to say, we all got a great deal of exercise, and were happy to be out of the water. Afterwards, we ate a brief Mexican lunch and headed back to the Jeep, but then, just as we were about to drive off, Mama realized she had forgotten her hat in the surf, and we had to delay the convoy. Par for the course, I thought, but at least we hadn’t drowned.
Our next excursion, on Tuesday, was a little better. We docked this time in Progresso, in the Yucatan peninsula, on the mainland of Mexico. Our guide on this day was an old Marine Corps veteran who claimed descent from the Mayan Indian tribe. The Mayans built one of the first civilizations in the Americas; they are renowned even today for the accuracy of their calendar and their mathematical discoveries that predated similar discoveries in Europe and Asia. Today, in the Yucatan peninsula, there are hundreds of Mayan ruins, the remains of ancient Mayan cities dating back 1,500 years. Our guide, Julien, was taking us on a bus to Uxmal, one of the more beautiful of Mayan ruins. From the very beginning, the two hour drive south was informative. Julien told us about the Mayan civilization, about his own Mayan heritage, and about the Yucatan peninsula, while we stared out the windows at the tropical jungle. When we finally arrived at Uxmal, we followed Julien through the ruins and were amazed at the sophistication of this ancient Mayan architecture. Massive gray-stone pyramids loom over the verdant jungle, while iguanas lounge in the grass, sunning themselves on rocks. In truth, Julien provided us with more information about the Mayans than I can even hope to recount; the pictures of the site, however, may help to reveal to you the magnitude of Uxmal’s beauty. Finally, though, the excursion was at an end; we all did a little shopping for souvenirs and climbed back in the bus, beginning the two hour trip back to our ship.
The last day on the cruise consisted of choppy waves that nauseated my sisters and increased everyone’s cabin fever. However, we had a good time reminiscing about our excursions in Mexico and talking about how we’d love to go back. And so, although I have never been happier to get off a boat in my life, and even though there were a few times I sincerely worried for my sanity and for my mother’s safety, all in all, I enjoyed the time spent with my mother and sisters and the making of memories that will be cherished for years to come. Next time, perhaps we’ll get Daddy to come along, and maybe he’ll even snorkel, or (more likely) maybe he’ll just stay on the boat. Either way, though, if we go back, I think Daddy and I should get our own cabin. I know we’ll have fun with the girls, but somehow, I think we might need it. Living with three girls, that’s just how it works.