After 9 months of waiting…and at least 9 solid days of fretting…we are here!! And without incident which proves once again what an utter waste of time fretting is. I really need to get that fixed.
It took us 32 hours of travel, almost half of which were layovers, to finally arrive at our haven-on-the-seas. We are unpacked and camped out on the Dolphin Deck of the Emerald Princess. WHOO HOO!
Half my life ago, I chatted with a woman my company was doing a project with. She told me that for her upcoming 50th birthday, she was going on an African safari. I remember thinking two things: 1) Man, she is OLD; and 2) If I ever make it to that advanced age, I shall go an an African safari, too.
No, Rob and I are not on our way to see elephants and giraffes. How about penguins instead?
Knowing without asking that an African safari will never ever ever happen with my somewhat risk-adverse travel buddy, I started pondering other exotic locales that would help me feel like I was still keeping my milestone promise to my young twenty-something self.
And that is how Rob and his 49-years-old-and-counting wife ended up in South America.
A couple of days ago we hung out in the minimally appointed Lima, Peru airport for a solid 8 hours. The airport was surprisingly populated from midnight to 8:00am. Despite the many hours spent looking out the window, I never got to breathe any Peruvian air. I wonder if it smelled like llama?
So what does one do for 8 middle-of-the-night hours in Peru?
We ate a very slow meal. We stared at the Departures board for our gate to finally be assigned. I did some Duty-Free souvenir shopping. I resisted the copious uber-soft products made from alpaca fiber (well, almost – I do have a lovely new scarf now that I bought because it looks nice with my hair). We noted the number of exceptionally athletic and hikey-looking people who had undoubtedly recently trekked Machu Picchu. We chatted with an older guy that pegged us as fellow cruisers and only asked questions which he himself wanted to answer (I henceforth mostly listened about his 26 cruises). And we both tried repeatedly to get comfortable enough to sleep across waiting-area chairs that thankfully did not have arm rests. Neither Rob nor I ever got relaxed enough to start twitching so I’m going to say we did not sleep.
I was surprised, though, how many other fellow travelers were totally zonked out. The international terminal was littered with layover casualties. The most popular areas were the ones around Samsung charge kiosks. Far as I could tell, they offered the only publicly accessible electrical outlets in the airport.
Travelers of all ages, sizes, and nationalities were horizontally sprawled out across faux-leather seats. Most used backpacks, purses, and other carry-ons as pillows. Some had feet propped up on other luggage. Most had totally unattended, unattached, unguarded bags nearby.
That is what amazed me the most: the utter trust that all belongings were safe under nobody’s watchful eye. Similarly, I observed a fellow diner during our 90-minute midnight snack leave his suitcase and jacket unattended at least three times as he left to check the Departures board, go to the bathroom, or debate whether to purchase an overpriced alpaca pashmina (I assume the last simply because that is what I was doing).
Finally boarding our final flight to Santiago, Rob and I saw a dejected man standing forlornly next to his fancy First Class seat that was all torn apart. Cushions were upended, the inner workings of his bed-in-a-seat exposed for all to see. We later learned that his iPhone had slipped between the seat cushion and the fancy bed contraption. The plane had eaten his phone. The seat was still torn apart when we disembarked three hours later. No idea if the guy ever got his phone back. Hashtag firstclassproblems.
Arriving in Santiago, we navigated several long lines, retrieved all our luggage with huge sighs of relief, and followed the nice people waving Princess Cruises signs. We learned we were two of the six people they were waiting for…and due to the length of the immigration and customs lines, likely the last six people who would be boarding the Emerald Princess.
And this is why we bought the air and transfers through the cruise line: they guarantee they will get us to the ship. So yes, we were rushing a bit but it was all an adventure without any stress on our part.
Our driver, Ernesto, however, was a different story. He likely had some sort of contract or bonus or something based on getting us to the ship before its official 5:00pm deadline. It was 3:45pm.
Ernesto hurried his travel-weary ducklings to his van. We quickly stuffed six cruisers and luggage for 14 days in a minivan and jetted off for the 90-minute (without traffic) drive to the port of San Antonio.
As we left the airport, the guy from Cleveland asked why there were so many police lining the streets. I know countries have different customs and ways of keeping their citizenry safe, but the couple hundred police standing along the freeway and along exits seemed a little extreme. Ernesto told us the Pope was in town and the guards were in place along his route.
Suddenly our 90-minute ride seemed like it would be a LOT longer…
As Ernesto slalomed around slow-moving buses and cars, paying only cursory attention to the white painted lines on the highway, I noticed he was driving a stick shift with his right hand and communicating with dispatch via smartphone with his left. I wisely spent most of the time looking out the window the opposite direction.
I only got to see downtown Santiago from a distance. It had no sky scrapers and most of its tall buildings were the same height and a yellowy cement color. It honestly wasn’t a very interesting sky line.
As we drove outside of town and southwest towards the coast, I kept remarking to myself (Rob was two seats behind me; otherwise he would have heard all my commentary) how much the scenery reminded me of central California and Mediterranean places like Italy and Israel. It’s summer here so the landscape is golden brown. There were small rolling hills in a valley that eventually juts up against the Andes.
The valley soil must be very rich because there was all sorts of agriculture. We passed fields of grapes (so many billboards for wine…mmmm!), orange trees, olive trees, tomatoes, and corn. The corn was interesting because the stalks were not planted in rows. Instead they were just in close clumps like grass. It was actually quite beautiful to see all the corn tassels swaying in the breeze like ocean waves. I had never thought of corn stalks as beautiful before. Organized and precise, yes, but beautiful no. Although precision does have its own beauty…
As we approached the coast, the moist sea air rushed through the van’s windows. Eucalyptus trees and California poppies lined the road. Add in some gulls and sea otters and I would have sworn we were in Monterey, California.
Ernesto got us to the port in record time…five minutes before 5:00pm. I have no idea how fast he was going (I was looking the other way, remember) but I do know that we passed quite a few vehicles including a police guy aiming a radar gun behind us after we whizzed by.
We were clearly the last six passengers to arrive. All the Welcome Aboard signage and smiley greeters and eager assistance were long gone. We had our choice of the two dozen registration agents watchfully waiting to clock out. As our paperwork was being processed, the card key holders were turned upside down and shaken to confirm all keys had been issued. We were that last.
We rode the shuttle bus to the gangway with two cruise employees – one to retrieve the other. The one that was already working asked the other how many days he had been traveling. He wasn’t sure; he thought maybe three. He had started in Bali and had made stops in Dubai and France before arriving for duty in Santiago. Suddenly our 32-hour Portland-Los Angeles-Lima-Santiago trek didn’t seem nearly as exhausting. Plus, well, we didn’t have to work today.
Indeed we didn’t.
When we finally left our cabin this afternoon at 12:30pm, we assured Roger our room steward that we will not be so late every morning. 14 hours of sleep is not a typical, we promised.
It’s an At Sea day today. The sea is a little rough (official classified as Rough with 12-foot waves and Force 8 gales. Not sure what wind speed that is but I can tell you the pools are like wave machines and my hair is a windblown swirl of silver).
Both Rob and I have both popped meclizine (non-drowsy Dramamine). Mine took about an hour to kick in. When it did, I felt a blissful tingly swath of bubble wrap envelop me, absorbing all the nauseating sways and swells and dips that are making the ship creak. Goodness am I thankful for medication!
We are sailing south to our first port called Puerto Montt which is still in Chile. We have an excursion planned tomorrow involving a city tour and horses and beverage. We have to report for our tour at 9:05am. Roger will be pleased.
[NOTE: Due to slow internet that is paid for by-the-minute, I don’t plan to post very many if any photos while we are traveling. I will do a final post when we got home of my favorite shots from the entire trek.]
No comments:
Post a Comment