Woke late again but feeling much better. Good to see the ocean flying by out the window as I woke. Excited last night to exit Mississippi Delta. Was able to sleep easily as we drove into the dark of the Gulf. But it was not so dark, due to the offshore rigs. Took a while to get used to eating and walking in motion. First noticed we were moving when the closet door closed by itself.

Today went to breakfast buffet and then down to kiddie pool. Did a lot of exploring on my own to see what there was to this ship. I felt as bad ordering room service as I did calling in landscapers last week. But it is something I could get used to. Unlike others on the ship, I am not here to pretend I am as Astor. Not interested in dress-up. I want to relax, explore history and nature, and prepare for a harrowing year of school.

This is why it was so pleasing to see dolphins playing beside the boat this afternoon. The Gulf has a lot of little patches of seaweed.

Just saw the sun set from my balcony. It is beautiful tonight. Avoided most storms and the hurricane, Irene, shifted north. Harvey left some damage in all of our upcoming ports. Tomorrow we plan to tour Chacchoben, Mexico. I know we are in the sea now close to Cancun but I see no land or lights ahead. Earlier we shared the water with a couple tankers but that was long ago.

I miss my bad habit of pop and will hopefully fix this at port tomorrow. Need dinner and to plan tonight. Andrew, surprisingly, is having fun. Wonder if that will continue.

We seem to be on cruise control. We are going 25mph and headed sotheast. In the river we went 11 to 17 mph as I could measure via my GPS receiver. Night is coming in from across the boat now.

Saw a sooty tern around sunset and a gull sized and shaped shadow. Last night locusts along the river near Venice were very loud.

[Written a few hours later.] Watched a few minutes of the Bears game after dinner. I’m now very sleepy. I can see lights in the distance out in sea to the southwest. It is a dome with a blinking red and a few brighter points of light. It is probably Cancun or Cozumel, Mexico. The first time I ever saw Mexico.

Written 8/22/11 about 11:15 p.m. in the Caribbean Sea

Woke up earlier for breakfast and then the boat tied up at the large  pier at a place the cruise lines call "Costa Maya", near the natural  old fishing village of Mahahual. The pilot boat was full of guys in fatigues calling to each other in Spanish.  Along with a few dock workers, the pier was patrolled by guards in fatigues toting an aging black lab and a couple of assault rifles.  These were veterans of the drug wars raging to the North.

I am used to this rocking world of the ship by now... It breeds a lot of its own culture, etc. It would be worth a ponder later. I actually got seasick today on a van and NOT the ship. We have been lucky to avoid horrible weather, Irene is hitting the Bahamas and heading northwest hopefully... selfishly, but hopefully.

I just took a shower and am sitting in the dark, shirtless, in the hot night feeling the breezes of the passing air as we cut through the Caribbean Sea. I can also feel a stream of cool ac escaping through the crack in the door. I see smoke from the diesel engines, the white  foam of the upset wake, a distant thunderstorm flashing far off in Belize, and ALL the stars and galaxies. Once in a while, I see a white gull fly around and mistake them for shooting stars…

The heat got me today. It was not so hot in temp, but there is a high dew-point and the sweat cannot go into the air. So it feels very hot. The shade only offers a tiny bit of relief. The air barely moved today save right by the harbor.

We docked and got off the boat. It was crowded but orderly. Then on the pier across turquoise water teeming with flashy fish schoolsThe cruise lines built a mall to net our cash on diamonds and fancy art. The world must think we are madly wealthy, but they might be right in comparison to the rest of the world. We may sit on piles of cash but we are surrounded by others who are doing likewise so we are hampered from living like the millionaires they think we are by our worries.

The mall was dead. We walked right through and out into real Mexico. NCL actually dressed a crew member as a Mexican ranchero to greet us in Mexico. Makes no sense in this part of the country… Real Mexico was a taxi stand. We met an older couple going on the same tour as us and we stuck to them unnaturally until we found the right van that took us and others into town.

The town seemed like a work in progress. This will be a place one day, but not yet. We booked w Native Choice, paid, and were grouped with others and off we went in Pedro's van. He seemed pleased that Jess knew Spanish. Francisco, our guide was curt, but friendly, and extremely up on his Mayan mathematics. He said he was Mayan, but did not live in the state. He introduced the tour and Andrew squirmed a bit.

It was hot so the van ride and free water was welcome. Passed over many topes where locals had fruit stands. Francisco got out and bought us what looked like dragon fruit. Pink and flaming on the outside, prepared white and packed with black seeds. Squishy and kiwi-like in taste. The stands were pathetic and beautiful. Frank’s shoes were the same. White and brown leather boots. He was something all right and he barely broke a sweat. We looked like pigs, especially me. Brought a sweat -rag I could not keep dry and wore at my belt. Shirt was useless here.

The land? Shallow water with mangrove-type weeds and egrets. Thin trees. Flattest land ever. No wonder the Mayan pyramids were a wonder to the people back then. Houses and shacks of varying states, some doubled as open air stores. Widely spaced corn and plants unidentifiable in yards. Mexican people wearing Indian faces all over here and there.

Got to Chacchoben Ruins and shopped a little straw market. Jess practiced Spanish with merchants. Then we followed Frank’s red flag before ruins, a once mighty pyramid. Lesson on numbers that I failed but learned another participant, pierced up, was a math teacher. Impressive trees here and might have heard a monkey howl. Then off to another pyramid with rooms. The next was a Mayan street with houses and former stores... Then off to a staircase in the jungle. Up to the top, a long climb, and there was a beauty of a tower, guide said dedicated to the sun. On the equinox the sun lines up with the top. Either the Mayans or Frank was obsessed with calendars and keeping time.

Frank explained it was about power. The people in charge even looked different, flattening their heads to look like jaguars and training their eyes to cross to better focus on stars.

Fellow travelers varied in age and intelligence and wealth. But everyone here was smart enough not to pay NCL for this. Substantial savings and value and only 11 of us. The oldest was annoying and probably a closet racist saying that the "Asians and Hispanics working on the ship are hard-working peoples...."  I mean, who says “peoples?” He often blurted out: "How interesting!"

After we went back where I bought Mexican Cokes and Jess got Andrew a wooden turtle whistle from an old lady. We returned and I felt sick on the ride, overheating and dizzy.

Dropped off at pier security. Gave Pedro and frank a decent tip and walked the main drag toward town where we found a great shop and  bought souvenirs and dry shirts and 2 liters of pop to smuggle onto the ship, since they charge $3.50 a cup.

Back to pier mall which was packed with our friends from the boat drunk as hell at a pool party. Nice pool and circuses. The Mexicans  hoped the partiers would stop and come into their expensive rented stalls to buy anything from blankets to diamonds. The Army guys and  their dog was there looking for smugglers. I held tight to my bag with the contraband pop as Andrew ran round a fountain. Then past some stalls to the pier with nice tide pool rocks.

Getting on boat no problem. The cabin felt like home, and more importantly was cool. A quick rest and then to dinner. I ate light, but still was feeling a heatstroke headache. Rested in room for long time and drifted into a nap. We used the ship’s babysitters and Jess and I enjoyed some alone time like in the B.A. era. Andy was sleepy when we got him. He fell asleep quickly and I bathed and now I sit here on the balcony. I am tired,  but interested in Honduras. We had to set the clock back 1 hour.

The slave ships cut through these same waters... I feel the ghosts here in the night. Beat south record set east of Ponce, PR. I'm at 17°40’. Just beat old record of 17°58’.

Written 8/24/11 about 8:21 a.m. in Coxen Hole, Honduras

Greeted by Garifuna drummers and dancers in the morning as baot was tied up. Jessica felt this was a forboding of some aggressive vendors on shore. They had an African beat and took turns dancing. The land is notable in that it is lush green and has a spine of small steep mountains. To the south you can see mainland Honduras. You would not know a hurricane passed here a few days ago.

For some reason we had to set clocks to mountain standard time, which is weird since I think we are east of Nola and Chicago. The sun is very hot here. I can see striped fish in the water beneath us.

Written 8/25/11 about 12:28 a.m. in the Caribbean Sea

Now tired and slowly going northwest toward Belize from Roatan. Distant lightning earlier but muggy and clear now. Stars are the attraction tonight, especially the North Star. The room faces northeast and the open Caribbean Sea.

Surprised this morning to see Roatan appear in window. Garifuna drummers and  dancers making noise before the “skyline” of little Coxen Hole.

Coxen Hole is a hole. It is poor and full of Garifuna and a Spanish speaking minority. People all over the narrow streets were looking for money, excited that 2,000 Americans were dropped off in their poor city. Many cruise lines ignore this place and dock miles to the East. Little bodegas and groceries called pulpiterias here and there on the roads. The city is made up of colorful shacks covered 
in cheap plaster.

Needed to get to airport 2 km away. Asked at taxi stand and they said $20 and refused to negotiate. I said I would walk and did so. As soon as we left the port’s security gates, I was approached by a woman asking where we were going. I told her airport for $10, $5 more than I should have paid for so short a ride. She agreed to the 200% upcharge and did not insist on 400%. She introduced us to a talkative guy who led us down the street, through the rough town, and we walked for some time. I told him if we kept walking, I would not need a taxi and so he told me to wait and he would get his taxi. While waiting, a guy who looked similar pulled up and we got in his cab. I thought he was the same guy, but he forgot English and I soon found he forgot where we were going since he drove us to some  dark dreary store and told us "barato." Jess, in Spanish, told him to take us to the airport and he did. This is when I knew we had the wrong guy.

He pulled up and charged us $20. I told him no and Jess and him argued in Spanish until he agreed to $15. And then, probably guilty, tried to keep helping us. I told him to go away after he talked to a car rental guy who lied about the company we had reservations with. He said they were closed when they were not, in the hopes of getting our business. We asked the Avis people and they told us to go in the airport where I met the first Honduran who was not money-mad.

Got a discounted little car, but it was manual so we had to trade it and forget our discount for an expensive brand new SUV. It was so new it had no license plate. It was a nice car but definitely not worth the money. Avis agreed to drive us to the pier when we finished. The airport was tiny like the one in Charlottesville.

Finally on our own, the diesel semi-automatic took some getting used to as did the tropical road conditions and fellow drivers. Found ourselves in French Cay where we went off onto the dirt to visit Arch's iguana  farm. A family run refuge for iguanas, this animal is often hunted by locals for cheap meat. They are wild on the island. Some lizards here were more domesticated than others. There were hundreds of them, various races and sizes. Andy was impressed and eased into the situation. Chickens, turkeys, coati... Iguanas ate leaves from our hands. Very cool, but over-priced stuff. They also had a squirrel monkey in a cage. He was very curious about Andrew and rushed to get face to face.  His tail reached out to Andrew. A small pier was home to a fenced in collection of  fish, huge lobsters, tarpon, shellfish, barracuda. Staff pointed out which was which. Then Andy and the monkey played a bit as the tour buses showed up. The monkey tried successfully to impress Andrew by drowning his toy Ken doll.

Carnival had a 2,000 passenger cruise docked at Mahogany Bay on the island. That boat is behind ours as I write, following us to Belize.

Next we drove through the little towns and over topes in our air conditioned car to the east into a much less developed area.  A viewpoint on top of the spine of the isla was the last place I saw tourists. Locals sold trinkets to Jess and I was punched by a tiny girl trying to get donations "for school." I gave her a buck. When the pavement ended the Hondurans became less numerous and the Garifuna numbers picked up.  We drove by kids in school uniforms. The Garifuna towns had homemade topes made of ropes. Poverty was everywhere. It looked like a late-night ad begging us to spare $5 a month for some kid.

The road here was very rough but we had an SUV (by mistake) and it handled well. Livestock all voer the roadway: bulls on the road, chickens, skinny pregnant dogs, an ass tied to a tree. We came to a small resort about 7km off road in Payo Bay. Their beach was undeveloped and unimpressive. So we went up the restaurant.

We were greeted by an expat who sat us in the breeze next to an open window busy with feeding hummingbirds. The ocean slapped the shore below.  Outside another door was a deck with hammocks. Rocky shoreline. Rocks covered with tiny crabs and snails here and there. I had fish and it tasted perfect. The plantains were dry and the coke refreshing. Jess had a few tacos and our waitress gave us salsa with various chips because "there was a wait and Jess knew Spanish."  We were invited to enjoy beach, usually there's a charge for this.

We walked a rough path to a beautiful sandy turquoise Caribbean beach, totally secluded. The resort only had one guest. We sat on beach things under grass cabana and took it in. The waves, heat, sun, sand, green, tree fruits, lizards that might be Jesus lizards... I swam in my shorts. The water was clear and hot. I floated, trying not to look like prey to any passing sharks, and then dried off under the palms. Perfection, but I checked watch and we were slowly off, back to the west.

I found little I could do with the time left and so we drove around and saw the sites before heading back to Coxen Hole. I got gas, too much of it. Going for about  $4.25/gallon. As we drove into town, I was stopped at a checkpoint by a policeman and told to get out of the car. I grabbed the car registration, totally in Spanish, and showed it to the cop. He winked and let me go. I was pretty close to ending up in a Honduran prison, I like to think.

I drove into Coxen and across island to the West End, but time ran out. After a trip into a small grocery for 3L pop where American cash and limperas flew through the air in frenzy, got back to airport and settled bill and was driven by a girl-crazy Avis employee back to the pier. We walked to boat in good time and successfully smuggled in pop.

We rested a bit, now free from the hustling of Honduras and then went to Raffles for dinner. Took Andrew to the kiddie pool and talked to a crew member from St. Lucia about cell phones, climate, health. After a while, I got jealous of Andy and put on my swimsuit and joined him in pool and hot tub. A quiet night of limited TV watching and room service snacks.

Honduras is intense, but there are quiet corners where all is well. I will never forget those moments on the beach with my family.

It is dark around me. Nothing but the Milky Way and my clothes drying. I’m listening to Dwight Yoakum sing “ A thousand miles from nowhere.”  We are 1750 miles from Chicago according to my GPS. No sign in Roatan of Hurricane Harvey damage because of the poverty. There was one small tree in one of the roads.

Written 8/25/11 about 11:44 p.m. in the Caribbean Sea

 Tired. A very full day in Belize, the friendliest city on our path so far. Things feel like we are on our way home.

Awakened early by the tightly turning ship and the hot sun. Got breakfast quickly and then went down to get tender ticket. We were in the 7th group and had to wait a couple minutes.

Tender was like a bus on water and we were packed in and taken 15 minutes or so toward Belize City's Tourism Village: another mall full of diamond shops. Desperate guides and drivers all over the place... Ignored them. They were much nicer, less pushy, and more peaceful than in Roatan.

Tadpoles by the hundreds in the street gutters as we walked two blocks to the Radisson, where our car rental was located. Rate was pricey, but the SUV was up to any challenge.  A nice lady with an Afrikaner accent helped us here and even threw in car seat and helpful directions.

Off to a poverty striken version of Key West: Belize City. Streets organized the same way. Belize is a big Creole or Garifuna town, crowded with busy people who could care less about cruise ships. That was refreshing, as was the speaking English. Many people still spoke Spanish and Creole... I did recognize some Garifuna words being spoken in Bermudian Landing.

Drove out of town and past the suburb of Ladyville into the small subsistence farms interspersed with jungles and bodegas. Topes continued to haunt the driving. The Northern Highway was very good, but the Old Northern Highway was paved narrowly with steep shoulders or soft shoulders. Trucks never seemed to have control here and one dreaded seeing one oncoming on so narrow a highway. As we drove patriotic music played on almost every channel along with some very strange cooking shows.

The queen was on their money, Scotia Bank and Esso were in business here. Partly it felt like a really tropical part of Canada. Gas was about $5.30/gallon… also like Canada.

Far up the  Northern Hwy was Altun Ha, ruins from mixed civilizations over time, including the Mayans, who live isolated from the other Belizians. Altun Ha was interesting, but what I most liked the path into the jungle ending at a lake about 1 km down. The trees were old growth and beautiful and life abounded, especially lizard life.

It was very hot here at noon. 43 degrees according to the car thermometer. Shirt soaked... That is why the vendors at Altun Ha were falling over themselves to sell water to "Big Guy."

Went to Bermudian Landing to the locally organized Community Baboon Sanctuary. “Baboon” is what Creoles call the black howler monkey.  There were no tourists in the small Creole town... The sheriff here was sitting on a broken down porch, shirtless and fat. The people were friendly, but very poor from what I could tell.

The man in charge at the CBS had relatives in Chicago (Speaking of that I drove around trying to find Chicago, Belize, which I saw on a map, but only managed to find Belizian towns named Kansas City and Boston.) The other man at the CBS was hanging around and he turned out to be Robert, our guide. We may have interrupted his lunch of rice and Sprite. He explained the place and we hiked down  the road to woods between houses and gardens. Reggae was playing loudly from one of them.

In the woods Robert showed us plants with medicinal value including one that calms down people and seemed to melt when touched. He showed us wild cocoa, cashews, the later which he said was the base for a strong wine. He heard laughing hawks and kept his senses peeled for us. He found a woodcutter ant path with ants busily carrying their loads. Robert said that the workers are blind. Andrew thought the leaves were walking. Robert went up to the big ant mound a few steps away and proceeded to stomp on it until army ants came out with huge menacing heads. I tried not to crowd him so he could make his escape. He picked up one of them carefully and attached it to his shirt, pulling off the body as the mandibles clamped down.  The head stuck to the shirt. Robert told us this can be used to suture wounds.

Further, crossing barbed wire, he found a troupe of monkeys in a yard.  He spoke in Creole to the people inside: "Watina!" Then he pulled out  leaves and coaxed baby monkeys to come down. I fed them. One threw a papaya at him so he picked it up and gave it to me to hand back to the monkey. The monkey eagerly accepted the gift and devoured it.

Then Robert began bellowing and growling at a large monkey who was uninterested in us. That monkey, the chief, began howling loudly. The lady in the house screamed out to us and she was quote upset, I assume about the noise. Soon we were off back to store. Tipped Robert and then moved on to the Western Road. This road had lousy signage.

Passed the "beach" and came back to find it was nothing notable. We continued past a curious cemetery with graves in  
the road median. Returned car downtown after refueling.

On ship relaxed, ate room service, and dinner and swam a bit with Andrew.

Written 8/26/11 about 11:52 p.m. in the Gulf of Mexico

 Tired again and succeeded thanks to luck in a challenging schedule. I like this area very much and will probably come back.  Today stopped at Isla Cozumel's Pumta Lagosta pier in San Miguel.

From here we we assaulted by vendors and guides as we walked out, as usual. The assault took place all day though. "buy something you don't need!" "Hey, don't you speak English?"   "Hey, amigo, come see my shop!"  "Big spender!"   "Rent a scooter!"  "Taxi!"

We were on a mission to see Tulum. Cab drivers offered to take us for $45, expensive... So we kept our cheap rental agreement.

Got off pier. Another ship, seemingly an industrial ferry, was docked.  The town was large with two church spires and a long strip along the harbor. Walked through the "net" of hustlers and caught a ferry to Playa del Carmen.

We took the 10am as the published schedule noted, but a ferry did leave at 9 and I wish I was on it so I could have another hour at   Tulum. The ferry was simple and used mainly by Mexicans with very few cruise passengers, despite fact there were two ships on the island.

Half hour later we were on mainland Yucatan. Playa del Carmen was a bonafide city with a huge tourist district. Most vacationers seemed to be from Mexico with a healthy number if Americans and Europeans (the later you can tell by their swimsuits). Vendors were excited everywhere and I would not have minded shopping, but I was on a mission.

Got to cars and had to walk further to pick it up from a very careful guy. His care worried me that they were already planning to find damage on the car when I returned and I was right.

Drove through the crowded city to the federal highway 307, which was surprisingly high quality and high speed limited access road. Only a few topes. The road was a straight shot south to Tulum with many hotels, beaches, and tourist traps on the way. Took about 50 minutes and the limited ferry schedule gave us a very tight time budget.

After heading through another net, we found the train to the ruins, a modestly priced alternative than hiking the 1 km in the tropical sun. There were men hanging upside down and spinning in native dress. Then they began a stomping dance before exiting. We followed their exit to the park entrance where we discovered they did not take foreign currency, but Jess got them to make an exception using her secret powers of looking cute and knowing Spanish, and we walked in, greeted by tons of iguanas and large lizards.

The ruins lie within a wall, and vary in age. They were well taken care of and were never buried in the jungle like the other places. The Spanish under Cortes saw the site on their way to conquer this country in 1520. Faces still adorned walls and murals were visible, but crumbling, on some walls. It was a handsome sight. The ruins were no longer home to the Indians but now a bunch if lizards. A cloud kept us cool enough and we descended the cliff via some sketchy steps and found a perfect little Caribbean beach. Warm but cooling water. turquoise in color. Sticky, fine light sand. Swimmers were everywhere... It is the weekend. Andy was pleased as punch which is why he was full of anger when we left. He grunted as he does.  We were a bit late but we could not afford to miss the ferry or else we had to visit the airport. So we raced back along the road after only scratching the surface of the wonderful site. A bit sad... But I can return, especially if the drug wars settle a bit.

The dark new-moon out here on the balcony is making the stars above the Gulf quite a sight!

Drug wars are bad. Photos of murder victims bloodied and in pieces on the front of the local paper and seem to be a continual fodder for news. This area was nice but there is a war going on between the narcos. I observed that the narcos are a bit heroic to some...

The American press which we get by satellite is upset about the fact that Irene turned north and is hitting North Carolina today and NYC on Sunday. Lucky it stayed put of the Gulf. I parked behind a concrete wall in Nola expecting it's fury to hit the city.

I dropped Jess and Andy near the ferry and I continued to the car rental. The guy checked it suspiciously hoping he could find damage and he thought he did. I showed him it was a dirt mark and fixed the dent with a rub from my thumb. I settled bill a block down and began running down the drag to meet the ferry, but not before stopping for some Pepsi. Reached ferry in time to board.

This ferry was way better than the other, clean, well-staffed and had a rock band to entertain. It was way better than staring out the window for 30 minutes. The band poorly played American music. I loved it.

Off pier in Cozumel with worries melting away. It seemed despite the odds we would make it back to sprit before she sailed off. Many others were late and we had a long line to get back on ship.