This evening, we had our first major political discussion at the dinner table. Marty declared that he felt that no tax money should be spent on a search for a cure to AIDS, and Susan and I vehemently argued the opposite. It wasn't a very well thought out discussion at all, though both sides were quite passionate in their arguments.
During dinner, the Cafe Concerto Strings played the Minute Waltz next to our table, then continued around the dining room with other pieces. The restaurant staff turned out after dessert to sing "Because of You", a Filipino love song, to the passengers in the restaurant. The people at the table next to us had a stuffed penguin toy with a valentine sewed onto the front, which they puppeted around with. It was a festive atmosphere.
I skipped the show (a Cabaret) in favor of finishing The Crystal Desert in the Polo Lounge.
I'm feeling pretty bored, without many people on board to relate to, and not much to do on my own. I definitely won't be cruising again on a ship of this sort, with such a huge proportion of elderly people. Other than Tarl, the very young grandson of Des and Jen Bartlett, I believe that I'm the youngest passenger on board. Most of the people are just here, "because it's the last continent I haven't visited." I'm not convinced that they really are interested in Antarctica as a place in and of itself. Instead, I think most of them are interested in it for what it represents: the ability to say that they've been on all of the seven continents, or at least one of the most inaccessible ones. Also, there are a very large number of widows on board who are now traveling a lot since their husbands never did. I suspect that the reality is that their husbands were more concerned about working and earning their livelihoods, and had jobs that didn't allow long vacations, though I'm sure that a lot of them genuinely disliked traveling. But I really have a hard time relating to this sort of traveler. It seems more like a conformist thing to do than a genuine interest. Of course, my grandmother is a different case, since she and my grandfather had always traveled when he was alive. And I'm sure that she is genuinely interested in the places and things that she was seeing. And there are a few people who I'm certain truly are passionately interested in Antarctica, such as Connie and Diane. And of course many of the special guests, who've made their lives center around Antarctica.
I'm not trying to suggest that there aren't people on board that I'm interested in, or that I can carry on a conversation with, but the age problem definitely limits the topics of conversations and my ability to relate well with the others. Most of the passengers see me as the grandson of one of their fellow passengers, and not as an individual. I wouldn't recommend this sort of traveling to others my age, with or without relatives. The way to go fow younger people is with one of the smaller travel companies that caters to young, adventurous travelers. Apparently, the Russian ships do this a lot, taking backpackers and other light travelers who aren't interested in the ship's accomodations so much as the destinations and the adventure. Of course, some of these are also probably more expensive, though I'd bet that the ones with poorer accomodations (like the former Russian research ships) aren't.
In retrospect, there seem to have been two drawbacks to this cruise. First, the size of the ship, which is both a plus and a minus. It's good because it allows us to go some places through ice that a smaller ship couldn't go (though that didn't seem to help much), but it's bad because it means there are more passengers, which is a hinderance in the landings. It also means that more elderly, pampered people were attracted to the trip, since the shipboard accomodations are so nice. Of course, for people of that sort, that's a plus, not a minus. Second, the schedule had us visiting the Antarctic a little late in the season, when things were starting to ice up again and the weather was more cloudy. The weather is always a toss up, of course, but I can't help but feel that we would have been a little luckier if we'd left earlier.
The advantages of this cruise, however, outweight the disadvantages significantly, though most of them will never occur again. I'm referring to the guests and lecturers, including Sir Vivian Fuchs, Sir Edmund Hillary, the Scotts, the Bartletts, Bob Burton, etc. These people will probably never be assembled together again on a public cruise ship for a trip like this. Having them here, in such a friendly and open situation where they were accessible to us and able to tell us about their experiences firsthand and often in one-to-one conversations, was a fantastic opportunity. Hearing Lady Philippa Scott reading the journal of her mother-in-law, and the others reading for Scott and his expedition team, with our ship right there at McMurdo Sound and Cape Evans where Scott's huts are located (we saw them both), was a memorable, thought-provoking, and emotional experience.
And of course, the itinerary that took us through both the peninsula and the Ross Sea was a definite plus. I am extremely happy that we managed to get to the Ross Sea, even if we only made one landing and had rotten weather. The weather and ice conditions themselves provided valuable and memorable experiences, which couldn't have been had anywhere else in the world.
So, next time it'll be a smaller ship or a different thing entirely. I'll avoid the armchair explorer cruises, and try for a better part of the season or a longer stay, which would hopefully allow for better weather.
All of the stories we hear about people who travel to and from the Ross Sea describe the "roaring 40s" and the "screaming 50s": referring to the sea's activity at the various southern latitudes. I don't think that we're having it that bad, but I can imagine how the names arose.
I went to Lars-Eric Lindblad's talk on the history of his traveling, which was in the Ambassador Lounge, and it was all amplified in that room. (Everyone has noticed this about the lounge and commented on it. It seems odd that they chose that place for the assembly hall where all of the lectures and performances occur.) The Ambassador Lounge is in the bow of the ship, so it's where the most movement occurs, particularly the heavy up and down motion and the faster bouncing. I had to close my eyes and let my body sway with the motion to keep myself from being sick. Lars is a very talkative person, and he spent an hour and a half on his talk. I thought he'd never finish. But when Nigel finally came up on stage to stop him, I was able to leave sedately and go to the purser's office for some Dramamine, and now I'm ok again. (Though I'm laying on my bed as I write this, just in case.)
Walking around on the ship is interesting. It's kind of like being drunk: things are moving all around you. Sometimes, the walls seem to move rapidly toward you on one side of the ship, sometimes you're suddenly much lighter, sometimes you're propelled forward quickly or stopped. I've found that walking faster and with a great deal of flexibility in reacting to the changing motion is a good way to work. Of course, there are still sometimes embarassing moments when you're walking in close quarters with other people and you're thrust into each other, but most everyone's good natured about it.
This still isn't as bad as the Drake Passage, and I doubt that it will ever get that bad.
When he told us that he didn't know much about the lifeforms near the black smokers, he added that we had in the room three experts on Antarctic biology that we could call on if we wanted to know more (Marie Buchler, Bob Burton, and Bernard Stonehouse). This emphasized the point that we have a significant group of Antarctic lecturers and explorers on board, not likely to be matched anywhere.