Scylla and Charybdis
Between Haiti and Cuba
January 2, 2018
I don’t recall the last time I felt so full and so satisfied as last night when we pushed our chairs from the table, thanked our waiter, and walked out of the Pinnacle Grill.
Fortunately, this high-end dining option is located near the center of the ship, else the weight of lobster, steak, and volcano chocolate cake with which our table was laden would have disturbed its center of gravity and equilibrium. This very pleasant surprise from my mother and Jerry was a marvelous way to welcome a new year.
We followed it up with another one: enjoying Broadway and Opera classics performed by Natalie Toro, reprising selections she has many times performed on Broadway.
We know this because she reminded us ad nauseam between each of her renditions which, we also were repeatedly reminded, are collected on a CD that could be purchased after the show.
The shame of it is that the time she spent actually singing was terrific. Unfortunately, like blending tepid rainwater with a 1982 Château Margaux, the quality of the performance was diluted irreparably by the droning monotony and tacky solicitations of the interludes.
Today our ship and our thoughts continue to drift, the direction of one influencing the course of the other.
We are bisecting the channel between Haiti on the east and Cuba to the west. The outline of each is clearly visible, and to the poor souls confined to these islands this would no doubt be the preferred vantage.
Living monuments to state-engendered misery, they are the Scylla and Charybdis of the Caribbean, rocks and vortexes of horrible ideas and worse consequences that level-headed thinkers and right-minded mariners are advised to avoid.
We are fortunate that the type dilemma on whose horns we most often are caught are those such as fish or steak, white or red, John or Paul, Ginger or MaryAnn; what in a less politically correct age were called “First World” or “white people” problems.
But white people are people too, and this afternoon we are contemplative.
This trip is as long as any we’ve taken, what we thought a necessary tonic after a grueling year. We hoped and expected it would revive our spirits, excite our ambition, and incite our motivation to attack a rigorous year ahead.
Our spirits, thanks in part to those consumed on this voyage, are indeed lifted; we are slightly more tan, and much more rested. But are we ready?
After two weeks away, we still are not sure. The thought of leaving a ship and returning to reality is never appealing, but we have another day and a half to adjust ourselves to that eventuality.
First order of business is to momentarily lay first world problems aside and make full use of the first world opportunities that day and a half affords.
JD
