Los Migrantes

Los Migrantes            February 25, 2019

When Bruce & I realized that our itinerary would take us through Tijuana on our way to San Miguel, I wondered if we would see signs of immigrants massed on the border.  Admittedly, we stayed close to the airport, but, no, we did not see any.  We kept our eyes peeled, and we did see the rusty metal slats of the border wall, but no throngs of migrants.  

When we arrived in San Miguel, I wondered if we would see the train that heads north, with desperate people clinging to the tops and sides of the cars.  No. We heard the faint rumble of a train passing through another part of town, but it does not stop here and we never saw it.  

Our first brush with an immigrant was at last week's Unitarian Universalist church service.  One of the American members had brought a Mexican man with her.  He had lived in Seattle for 30 years, had a wife and children, a painting business there - and one day he was snatched up by ICE and deported.  Back in his home village in Mexico, his life was soon endangered by gangs.  He had no way to make a living.  The UU member had encouraged him to come to San Miguel and was appealing for job and housing connections for him.  

Later that week, we happened upon a gallery show featuring the work of Enrique Chiu, a young Mexican-American artist whose ambition is to enlist community members to help him paint the whole border wall - on the Mexican side!  Citizens come together to paint messages of hope and humanity on this structure that separates families.  Included here are a few photos, including the first photo above, which I took from the video that explained his work.  I'm also including below a link to a short video that I found online.  (At the website, you'll need to scroll down to come to the video.) 

https://esbarrio.com/trending/enrique-chiu-pinta-muro-fronterizo/  

The most compelling encounter that we've had with this issue was a film called Walk With Us.  It tells the story of Rev. Ignacio Martinez, a local minister in nearby Celaya, who is helping migrants as they pass through town.   Most are men from Honduras, escaping gang violence or hoping to provide for their families in el norte.  Some arrive on foot, exhausted and dehydrated and dusty and hungry, with blistered feet.  Others are riding the train that passes through Celaya, a most dangerous endeavor.  A group has sprung up in San Miguel to support this work.  They travel to Celaya with fresh clothes and shoes and food for the migrants.  Through Rev. Martinez' organization, called ABBA, the travelers are invited to spend 3 days in a safe house, which he has rented to serve their needs.  The film begins with him massaging and bandaging the feet of one migrant.  It struck me as very Biblical. The screening of the film was sold out in politically liberal San Miguel.  The discussion afterward featured three speakers, one of whom was a dynamic 80-year old former kindergarten teacher who brings lip balm, playing cards, and hugs to the travelers, among other things!  I was fortunate to be able to purchase a copy of the film which I hope to share with our missions committee at First Parish, Gorham. 

Just this morning at church (only our second Sunday there) we heard from an American woman who was forced to move to Mexico to keep her family together when her husband was deported.  

The perilous plight of los migrantes is being played out close to San Miguel.  Our brief experience here has made more real the news that we've been hearing for months at home.  We wonder what our responsibility to our brethren is as fellow human beings.  

https://esbarrio.com/trending/enrique-chiu-pinta-muro-fronterizo/ 

Magical San Miguel

Magical San Miguel         February 23, 2019

    Typical cut paper banners (papel picado) in San Miguel

Where to begin in describing this "magical city", as it's been referred to?  Conde Nast has named it the top small city in the world for the past two years!  The Senior Nomads, a couple who travel continuously in their retirement and have created a widely read blog, have lovingly referred to it as "Disneyland for seniors"!  We didn't know all of that when we decided to come here for the month of February - only that our friends, Marge & Brian, had enjoyed their winter escape here a few years back and had a connection for a place to stay. 

Bruce and I immediately compared it to the other beautiful Spanish colonial UNESCO Heritage city that we are familiar with - Antigua, Guatemala.  It turns out that San Miguel is similar to Antigua, only more so:  bigger, more polished, more tourists, more traffic, more restos and galleries, better sidewalks (though we are warned not to become "fallen women" due to their unevenness), as well as more ex-pats, who are very embedded and influential.  

Like other colonial cities in Latin America, it is centered around a big church facing a park.  Parroquia de San Miguel Arcangel is so lovely, built of a pink stone that glows in the sun.

                  The Parroquia de San Miguel as evening falls. 

Like Antigua, the city is awash in other historic Catholic churches, too.  Many grand old convents have been turned into arts centers, restaurants, health clinics, etc.  The city streets are a photographer's dream - with beautiful images at every turn.  The lovely old architecture, the warm colors of the buildings, along with surprising details, amuse and delight us each time we set out for a walk.

Colorful ribbons soften the visual impact of the security bars, which cover all windows.

    Vendors near the central park, called "the jardin" in San Miguel.

                             Wall murals have a long tradition in Mexico.

One of the first things that Bruce and I noticed about the city is the high number of single gringo women "of a certain age" living here.   We wondered why.  After a couple of weeks and a few conversations with people we've met,  we think we've figured it out:  the weather (duh - warm but not hot during the day and cool at night, due the altitude of 6000 feet); the low cost of living (except for home purchases);  relative personal safety (the city works hard to maintain that);  the beauty of the place;  the plethora of good restos;  affordable healthcare;  and an amazing array of interesting things to do, from art to lectures & movies to volunteering to language classes to interest groups (anyone for "gringo bingo"?).  The city has a lot to offer, and American and Canadian retirees have discovered it, especially the women!

In our apartment complex, right above us are two women in side-by-side apartments, each with their dogs, each seemingly alone in the world, living here in their waning years.  

One of the most fertile centers of intellectual stimulation in town is the Biblioteca (library).  Housed in an historic old building, it now appears to be the bustling center of the ex-pat community.  Every week a listing of events at the library comes out.  Our first week we were lucky to hear the Senior Nomads, whom I have followed for several years, give a SRO presentation on their travel lifestyle!  I was thrilled to hear them in person and to be reminded of their checklist of requirements for continuing to travel:  learning every day; having fun; on budget; healthy; still in love :).  Pretty good criteria!    

Last week we saw a new video describing the work of a nearby local pastor who has organized an effort to meet some of the desperate needs of migrants passing through this area on their way to the USA (more on that in another post).  Also located in the library is a sweet cafe, with an open courtyard, serving delicious lunches, sometimes accompanied by live music!

                                      The Biblioteca cafe - with musicians.

Just as we were arriving in San Miguel, a festival of flowers was set up in a large park not far from us.  It celebrated Candelaria (Candlemas in old English tradition) and the beginning of spring, and I was eager to see it.  Bruce, in his illness, couldn't go, so I got up my courage to take an outing by myself, map in hand, to Parque Benito Juarez to find the flowers.  What a delightful experience!  It was a warm Sunday afternoon.  The park was filled with families strolling and admiring the amazing array of plants that stretched over this expansive wooded space.  I meandered around, up & down stone pathways, sitting on a bench for a while, settling in to the play of light and shadow, the colors and textures and sounds of voices young and old.  Before heading home, I bought a rosemary plant for cooking.  A few days later, I enticed Bruce there, where he discovered the monarch butterfly garden which delighted him.   The park has become one of our favorite places.  Just today, we ambled over there in time to discover a wedding celebration taking place, guests crowded onto the bandstand, along with a band, dancing to lively music.  Gigantes, giant papier mache people representing the bride & groom, danced around the crowd.  A burro, decorated with floral arches, was part of the procession.  Such a peaceful, pretty oasis in the city with the occasional serendipitous happening!    

                                  The wedding party dancing in the park!




Last Sunday we attended a UU (Unitarian-Universalist) church service which we had seen advertised.  It was held on the grounds of an old, pretty hotel.  We were shocked to find such a large congregation - 150+ people, all gringos looking like us - with a tiny handful of children!  That's a bigger crowd than First Parish, Gorham, has on a typical Sunday.  Two women from Portland came to say hello afterward.  The music (including a piano rendition of a song by Queen) and the message and the warmth of the congregation all made it a very pleasant experience.  We plan to attend this Sunday. 

One of the treats of living here is the access to fresh fruit and vegetables.  Just around the corner from our apartment complex is a tiny produce tienda where we can purchase such novelties (for us) as fresh papaya, pineapple, and ripe avocadoes by the handful.  Next door to us is a "mercado sano" (health market) with a focus on organic products.  That's where I buy my yogurt.  And what should be upstairs in the mercado but a sweet little theater showing all the Oscar-nominated films - along with a glass of wine and a tiny bag of popcorn, included in the admission price of $5!  Wowser.  We've seen Green Book, Roma, Vice, and Boy Erased - with a few days left to indulge ourselves with more great movies.  Who needs Netflix? 

                      The tienda where we buy fresh produce.

Our apartment is less than a mile from the center of the city so we walk everywhere, which we enjoy.  Without pilates, it's the only exercise that I'm getting.  An excellent guided walking tour of the city taught us a lot about its history and its pivotal role in the rebellion which led to the War of Independence.   

Well, that's the gist of our time in San Miguel.  We are enjoying the warm weather, the chance to practice our Spanish skills and learn about the Mexican culture, so different from our own.  All of this is mingled in a comfortable gringo ambiance.  It is, indeed, pretty magical.   

Stay tuned to read about our peripheral experience with the migrant train and our overnight in Guanajuato!

                     Mexican art with traditional theme in the Biblioteca.

Calling Dr. Who?

Calling Dr. Who?                         February 16, 2019    

                                       The sign over the door reads:  
                         Sanatorio de Nuestra Sra. de la Salud
                             Urgencias Medico Quirurgicas 
                                     Private Medical Care



Our first couple of weeks in Mexico have been overshadowed with a nasty case of bronchitis which Bruce most likely picked up on the ship.  The crew on board had been attentive to health concerns, and hand sanitizers were placed conspicuously around the dining areas.   However, it was a sequestered audience  -  and it happened. 

By the time we arrived in San Miguel, Bruce was feeling quite poorly:  no energy, not much appetite, convulsive fits of coughing which interrupted his sleep, lots of napping.  That first night, as I lay awake listening to his belabored breathing, it occurred to me that we knew no one in San Miguel, we had no idea of how to contact emergency medical help, and I didn't even know our address. Not good. 

On our first full day here, fearing pneumonia, Bruce asked a kind restauranteur for a suggestion of a doctor.  She sent us off with the phone number of someone who speaks English and who could see him fairly quickly.  Sure enough, we were able to schedule an appointment with Dr. Gordillo for the next day.  

This is not Bruce's first encounter with a foreign medical system.  In fact, thirteen years ago, in France, he had intentionally waited until our arrival in order to seek medical help for a condition that had been plaguing him.  That experience had turned out very well and had prepared us for a different system of medical care, one with fewer layers of personnel, for one thing. 

Giving ourselves plenty of time and armed with a map, we found Dr. Gordillo's office in the old part of San Miguel, with a door wide open to the street, tucked in among stores and restaurants.  Its close proximity to the street meant that patients with mobility problems could walk a very few steps to get into the office.  The small entry area had seats for only 2-3 people.  A steady stream of patients came and went to see Dr. Gordillo and his brother, also a doctor.  There was a good mix of both natives and gringos.  Adjoining the space was a tiny pharmacy, very handy - and profitable? - where one could pick up the medications that had just been prescribed.  We waited for a short while.  Being a people-watcher, I had a chance to see who was availing themselves of these services.  Among them were a VERY old Mexican lady, assisted by a young woman, a grand-daughter perhaps; an American fellow, about our age;  and a spiffy young Mexican man who looked pretty healthy! 

Soon, Dr. Gordillo came out to invite Bruce and me into his office.  The first things that I noted were the art in his office - and his clothing.  Whereas Bruce's French doctor had been dressed all in black - jeans and a turtleneck, Dr. Gordillo was decked out in orange-red pants, matching sneakers, and a bright blue button-down shirt.  He was about 50 years old, tall and trim, and projected a breezy air of confidence.   We were ushered into a small office with high ceilings, not terribly tidy.  Dr. G. offered us chairs and took his place behind a large glass desk, empty except for a computer.   He was fairly personable but efficient, asking Bruce some pertinent questions, including his age.  When Bruce responded that he'd be 76 the next day, Dr. G.'s reaction was, "Let's not rush things.  You are 75 now."  I liked that.  Live in the moment.  

There were no nurses on hand to take blood pressure and heart rate.  As in France, it was a streamlined operation.  Dr. G. performed these tasks himself, along with listening to Bruce's breathing.  His conclusion:  "It's not too bad."  We were glad to hear that, even if it was a bit layman-like!  He went on to ask what Bruce had been doing to treat himself, including inquiring about "steaming" and gargling.  I was impressed that his recommendation included a combination of home remedies, such as these, with more medicinal prescriptions like naproxen.  I appreciated his suggestion that I take vitamin C, too, in order to ward off the virus.  We left with a printed list of products, to be purchased - at the adjoining pharmacy, of course.   He included an antibiotic, to be bought and taken only if these other remedies didn't work after a few days.  Well, they didn't!

      The birthday boy having pastries just outside our apartment.  

He managed to have a delicious birthday lunch at this artsy resto.  

Bruce continued to have his terrible coughing jags, along with the rest of his symptoms.  He became more and more discouraged as the days dragged on, and we saw our time in San Miguel evaporating.   True to our usual pattern, I encouraged patience;  Bruce wanted change more quickly and consulted with the internet for further guidance.  Finally, he decided to try the antibiotic and sent an email note to Dr. G., advising him of this.  The script was for 4 pills only, one a day.  And, yay!  He began to feel better almost immediately. 

                                   Entrance to our apartment complex.  

Suddenly, he wanted to eat; he had energy to take a few short outings.  His horrible coughing began to abate.  We could see the light at the end of the tunnel - and the prospect of getting out and exploring this beautiful city.  And, we had survived a medical "event" in a poor country.   Though not a terribly serious event, it had caused us to contemplate the tenuous nature of our visits to other lands - and to feel gratitude for the ability to purchase health care at an affordable rate.  

Bruce is still not feeling totally well, and we have our fingers crossed that he will be 100% by the end of the month when we go to Guatemala.  In the meantime, with only two weeks left in San Miguel, we'll do some "must-see" outings and keep you posted.  

Going Ashore

Going Ashore                            February 11, 2019

While Holland America's advertising touts its stops in various nations, these are really just a brief taste, lasting only a few hours.  Tours on shore are quite profitable for the ship, so there's lots of up-selling to lure you off on jungle tours or bird-watching outings or exploration of ruins.  When we stopped in Puerto Quetzal, Guatemala, buses began lining up on the pier early in the day, just after our arrival, to accommodate all of the various destinations and tour packages for that day.  We would be underway again by late afternoon, with a firm "all aboard time" of 4:30 pm.  The staff had made it clear, early on, that the ship waits for no one, so we were always very mindful of the time when we went ashore!

The large white buses on the far left took guests to destinations miles away in Guatemala.  The red "chicken buses" served as shuttles to the nearby visitor center.  

At each port, Bruce & I usually got off the ship to do our own exploring, which varied from dusty little towns, as in Costa Rica and Nicaragua, to lovely cities, such as Cartagena, Colombia, and Huatulco & Puerto Vallarta in Mexico.  All had their own interesting discoveries to be made.

Looking up at the ship from the pier.

Our first stop was Cartagena, and it was also the first time that Bruce and I had set foot in South America.  It felt a bit momentous.  Cristina, my USM Spanish profesora this fall, was a native Colombian, and her enthusiasm for her country of birth was infectious.  I looked forward to our very brief excursion into this historic city, which I had researched for a short class assignment.   Feeling pressured to make the most of our 4 hours ashore, we succumbed to an assertive van driver's invitation to join his group for a tour.  It was a very good decision.  Victor Manuel was an engaging host, spoke English well, gave his small group of gringos a whirlwind tour of this UNESCO Heritage city, and got us back to the ship on time!

First things first, before any touring - parrots & wifi in the Cartagena visitor center!  

                 Cartagena Castillo, built by the Spanish in the 1500's

Emeralds and coffee are two of Colombia's top exports.  Naturally, our tour stopped at an emerald operation, with jewelry makers and sellers.  

Cartagena sits on the Caribbean coast, and it has a beautiful public beach, within walking distance of high rise business buildings.  

Bourgainvillea, narrow streets, Spanish colonial architecture, sun-drenched colors - and HEAT & HUMIDITY!  That was Cartagena.  

Second stop was Costa Rica's Puntarenas.  Many guests were off to do zip-lining through the jungle or to cruise down a river, but Bruce and I were off to find an internet cafe and to see what Costa Rica had to offer in this tiny town.  It was another hot, humid day.  We walked the long pier and could see a few people swimming at the black sand beach.  Along the main drag, a couple of open air restos straddled the space between the street and the beach.  A shabby playground on one side of the street and a technical college, housed in a weathered armory, sat face to face.  As we moved away from the beach, we encountered the backbone of a functioning town with businesses such as hair salons, mechanics, doctors, restaurants - including several Chinese restos (what a disaspora the Chinese have endured) - as well as modest residences behind iron gates and the town church.  It felt quiet and safe.  We found a cafe with internet and settled down to catch up with home.  Immediately upon connecting to our Maine life, Bruce said, "Oh, no" in that heart-stopping way, and we learned that a dear friend had had a serious heart attack.  Checking our mail always brings the possibility of news that will shrink us into the shaky reminder that we are so very far away from everyone dear to us.  

                       Trekking into Puerto Puentas, Costa Rica.

                      Lovely venue for a skateboard park. 

               The sweet stone Catholic church, open to passers-by.  

And, finally, the outdoor bar where we sipped on limonadas and connected with home.  

Inspired by an intrepid woman who was traveling on Holland America alone, I decided to screw up my courage and walk into the port of Corinto, Nicaragua, by myself - along with a few other hardy passengers - since Bruce had other plans on ship.  It turned out to be a good experience.  I wandered through town, chatted a bit in my halting Spanish, fended off drivers offering rides around town for $1 - a simple "no gracias" did the trick - and saw real life, bustling on around me in the markets and little shops.  Before getting back on board, I bought a handmade wooden item from a man with 9 children, three of whom are doctors!

                     Market in Puerto Corinto, Nicaragua

The pedicabs used to get around Puerto Corinto - airy, relaxed        transportation!  

We had been told by our on-board expert that there was nothing at Puerto Quetzal, Guatemala.   After experiencing their lovely visitor center, I felt offended for Guatemala  The ship was berthed at a very industrial pier, for sure, but the above-mentioned chicken buses shuttled us off to a pretty, nearby welcome area, where marimba players greeted us and a beautiful lay-out of shops and restos made our trip ashore worthwhile.  Of course, most passengers signed up for long, pricey bus rides to Antigua or Lake Atitlan.  As lovely as those places are, we'll be visiting them in March, so no need to travel there now.  

  Bruce passing lovely Guatemalan wares with nary a glance, hoping I'll do the same :).  

                                           Los colores! 

                        Headed for a beer and Wifi!

After a couple of days at sea, we began seeing steep mountains falling into the sea along the shore.  Our two Mexican ports were a sharp contrast to the three that we had just visited.  The cities of Huatulco and Puerto Vallarta were larger, more developed, more touristy - and quite lovely.  At Huatulco, we walked and sipped coconut water and ... you guessed it, enjoyed a beer and internet.  This is a planned community, we learned later, where there is a cap on the number of condos and with a focus on eco-tourism.  Our shipboard friend, Barb, went on a tour to some villages in the hills behind the port.  There she saw corn being ground into flour, tortillas being cooked, and found out that the local government has arranged for the tours as a way for residents to supplement their incomes.  Part of the deal is that the families are given pure drinking water and toilets and the opportunity to sell crafts. 

Bruce loves to chat with the local bomberos (firefighters) through our mutual connection with son Matt's profession.  Invariably, they are interested - or at least polite!  

 Can you imagine worshiping in this open santuary beside the sea?

I'm glad that Mexico can have a sense of humor about this situation - and make some money on it!  

     My coconut drink - being prepared from the back of a pick-up!

Puerto Vallarta was the last of our stops before our final destination of San Diego.  This was a large city.  The Volendam docked across the street from a huge Wal-Mart & Sam's Club.  Bruce & I hopped a local bus, headed for the old town and the expansive seaside walkway, called the malecon.  Immediately we were befriended by a Canadian couple who spend their winters here.  They showed us the ropes of local bus riding and shared their reasons for loving it here:  the weather, of course, which stays at a comfortable 80 degrees, as well as safety, friendliness of the locals, ability to get around on public transportation, lots of things to do, and low cost.  Lots of positives there! 

We easily found our way to the malecon, a wide car-less walkway along the beach.  Four cruise ships were in port so there were lots of tourists.  We looked for the sculptures along the malecon and the voladores and the old Catholic church.  Found them all!  

All along the malecon (seaside walkway) were unique sculptures by individual artists.    

These are the Voladores, performing an ancient Mesoamerican ceremony which has been designated by UNESCO as an Intangible Cultural Heritage.  The four men launch themselves, upside down, off a platform at the top of the pole.  One foot of each man is attached to a rope.  The ropes slowly unravel as they swirl their way to the ground.  Just an everyday event on the beach in Puerto Vallarta!  

                             Another sculpture - I love the swirling dress!

So, those were the stops on the Volendam's cruise.  They offered a change from ship-board life and gave us a hint of the variety of Latino cultures waiting to be explored in more depth.  Each time that we returned to the ship, we felt like we were crossing a veil, going from real life to fantasy-land.  

Panama Canal

Panama Canal                   February 8, 2019

To be honest, the Panama Canal is not something that I had given much thought to until Bruce proposed making it one of our destinations for this winter's travels.  During my lifetime, the canal has always existed, a vague foreign fact of life.  I took it for granted, not that I had much need to ever think about it.  It wasn't until I began reading David McCullough's Path Between the Seas that I gave it the respect that it deserves as one of the engineering marvels of all time.

The United States had wanted a path across the isthmus for many years in order, of course, to shorten the sea voyage between the east coast and west coast.  However, buoyed by their success in constructing the Suez Canal, it was the French who were the first to tackle the challenge during the 1880's.   They poured millions of dollars into the project and lost 22,000 lives due to tropical diseases, such as yellow fever and malaria, as well as other jungle related horrors.  Their persistence in trying to build a canal at sea level also led to their failure.  When they went bankrupt in 1889, a holding company took over and, after a decade and much lobbying, sold the land and equipment to the U.S. 

Forgotten in current times is that the canal was nearly built in Nicaragua.  Quite a struggle took place in Congress between those who favored Panama and those who favored Nicaragua.  Teddy Roosevelt had just become President.  He supported the Panama location, and the rest is history. 

With the American land grab in Panama, sometimes referred to as "gunboat diplomacy", the U.S. took on the challenge of creating a water route through the isthmus.  The first task for the Americans was dealing with yellow fever and malaria.  Dr. Gorgas, an Alabama physician,  had learned that these were mosquito-borne diseases.  He spent a couple of years taking steps to control mosquitoes in the Canal Zone, thus nearly eliminating the threat of these diseases.  However, even with this crucial improvement in work conditions, an additional 5000 lives were lost under the Americans, as a result of other diseases and accidents. 

The Americans upgraded the infrastructure in the Canal Zone as an enticement to attract workers.  

Among the unique solutions to the challenges presented by the geography in Panama, was the American decision to build a dam.  This would create a huge lake, Gatun Lake, and decrease the need for digging.  The French idea of a sea level project was dispensed with, and instead locks were built on each end of the canal, lifting ships up to the lake and finally lowering ships to the Pacific Ocean.  By the time the canal opened in 1914, this engineering feat had cost millions of dollars and thousands of lives.   The resulting marvel is what we experienced!   

Gatun Lake, the largest man-made lake in the world at the time it was made

Terracing and wire mesh help to keep the sides of the trench from sliding into the canal as a result of the torrential rainfalls in Panama.  

In recognition of the fact that many of the passengers on the Volendam had chosen this cruise specifically because of the Panama Canal transit, the company treated the event with a bit of festivity.  The day before, both a presentation on the history of the canal, as well as a documentary film were offered.  The sea schedule was to sail all night from Cartagena, Colombia, and arrive at the entrance to the canal around 7 am.  The front deck of the Volendam, usually off-limits, would be open for the day, beginning at 7:30, and "panama rolls", a Holland America tradition, would be served for the occasion.  We were left to wonder what sort of confection these would be - yummy yeast buns with a creamy filling, as it turns out. 

Bruce and I were up early to make the most of this event!  Shortly after sunrise, we emerged onto the deck at the aft end of the ship.  Scattered around the horizon were as many as 20 ships, all waiting for their scheduled time to enter the canal.   We learned that the canal is open 24 hours a day.   

           A ship on the horizon awaits its turn to enter the canal.

The first of three bridges that we went under, putting the continent back together!

Another special feature was having a Panamanian expert aboard, whose running commentary from the ship's bridge was broadcast all day.  This man had worked on the canal for many years and had a wealth of information to share.  The canal was turned over to the complete control of Panama in 1999.  

Early morning on the fore deck, enjoying panama rolls and watching the entrance into the canal.  

We had been encouraged to witness the voyage from different parts of the ship.  It was to take all day, not arriving on the Pacific side until   5 pm.  Going through the locks was definitely the most fascinating part.  The clearance on each side of the ship, once it was in a lock, appeared to be no more than 2 feet on each side.  Small trains on tracks, three on each side, pulled the ship through the locks.  

     Getting ready to enter the first lock, following another cruise ship.  In the channel beside us, approaching in the opposite direction, is a cargo ship.  

Looking down at the slim margin of space in the lock, as well as one of the small trains, pulling the ship.  

One of the fun activities was a "swim across the canal" - in the pool.  This one looks like a belly flop!   

            Panamanian tugs kept us on track as we exited the last lock.  

Finally, we could see the tall skyscrapers of Panama City in the distance as we approached the Bridge of the Americas and the Pacific Ocean.  It had been a fascinating voyage through what the American Society of Civil Engineers has ranked "one of the seven wonders of the modern world".  Bruce checked that one off his bucket list!  

                   Bridge of the Americas at the Pacific end of the canal.

One more post about the cruise and then we'll be into San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, where we are now!