This is the second of several entries written while I was on vacation during the past couple weeks.

This cruise is pleasant, yes, and I'm grateful to be here, but after only a day aboard ship, it's clear that this is not the sort of vacation I would choose for myself. For the cost and length of this vacation, one could tour Europe, or Asia, or South America. The educational opportunities afforded by this sort of self-direct vacation far outweigh those available on board a cruise ship.

Then there's the financial aspect of the situation.

As I type this, I'm sitting on deck two, just outside the Louis XIV Casino. I can hear the electronic burbling of the slot machines. Somebody just hit a jackpot. The coins clink-clink-clink into the receptacle.

The casino is only one of the money-making services on board. Everything seems designed to part the traveler from his money. Most of the food is provided free of charge, but few of the drinks are. All sort drinks, and all alcoholic beverages, cost extra. The prices are reasonable, but still: unless one wants juice or milk or water at every meal, the costs can mount.

(Note: Despite what I'd heard regarding the high quality of cruise food, I've been unimpressed. My breakfast was bland. My supper last night was mediocre; I certainly would have been disappointed had I paid much for it at Caprial's or South Park. The slice of pizza I had at the 24-hour pizzeria last night was pathetic, similar to a frozen grocery store pizza.)

Other tools to part the passenger from his money include: BINGO, several times daily (which Kris and I may actually play at some point); the video arcade, where every game costs one dollar, even twenty-year-old Galaga; the mini-mall, where things are actually reasonably priced (I may pick up a new watch — I keep meaning to get Jeremy some nice Cuban cigars, but I don't know if they actually have any on board); internet access costs a fortune ($25 for 33 minutes, $50 for 100 minutes, and $100 for 250 minutes — I'm hoping to find free access at public libraries in each port of call); and, obviously, the excursions in each port of call.

The best thing about the cruise so far is the amazing diveristy, among both the crew and passengers. As I've been writing this entry outside the casino, I've listened to the boisterous laughter and strident voices of the Spanish-speaking group next to me. (They're from Spain, I think, not from Mexico.) These people are loud. I've heard other passengers speaking French, and German, and Japanese.

The crew is even more diverse. Each crew member wears a name tag indicating his or her nationality. These people are from all over the world: Columbia, Ecuador, China, Japan, Korea, Sweden, Finland, Spain, Belgium, India, Russia. They're all friendly. It's wonderful to hear them speak, whether in English or their native tongues. I feel like maybe I am touring Europe or Asia.

Then I look up and see the casino, and above it the Tanzanite sales event next to the mall.

I cannot help wondering what might improve the experience for me. What amenities do I wish I had? I'm not sure I know the answer to that question. Do they have cruises for people who just want to read? Cruises where you attend classes?

In the afternoon, we cruise through a narrow passage off mainland Britsh Columbia. Though the channel is narrow, the water is deep.

I grab the video camera and head the front of the boat, on deck nine. The sun is shining. It's a gorgeous day. Dozens of my fellow passengers have had the same idea: we crowd together, filming the passing trees and hills, looking for wildlife. It's beautiful.

Maybe this is what makes a cruise worthwhile.

On this day at foldedspace.org

2003 — Barefoot   In which the darkness is really very dark. In which we encounter a ghost dog. In which I am barefoot. In which we drive from evening into afternoon and then take photographs.