2 Sea Days, Mayotte and Madagascar

The seas were fairly calm from Richards Bay to Mayotte. Casey spent most of his time in the swimming pool. The tropical sun got away from us and he developed a nasty sunburn. He and the only other kid on board, Anthony, had a great time in the ship’s pool, but their yelling, splashing and horseplay got on the nerves of some of the other guests. The pool is located in the center of the main outdoor deck, and many passengers read, sunbathe and go out there to relax. I got a very apologetic call from the concierge asking if I could talk to Casey about trying to act a little more calmly. The ship handled it perfectly—Casey wasn’t accused of doing anything inappropriate—they just wanted to see if a balance could be achieved between Casey’s desire to play and other guests desire to have a calm, tranquil sea day by the pool.

Overall I am so proud of Casey. It’s hard to believe that just three years ago he was classified by the state as requiring constant line-of-sight supervision in his foster home and almost placed in a self-contained classroom by Tacoma Public Schools. He was suspended 9 times in the fourth grade for disruptive behavior, stealing food, lying and running when adults tried to discipline him. The combination of amphetamines for his hyperactive behavior, and lack of attention from any parent, mentor or friend created a monster. Now he is sailing on one of the finest luxury ships in the world. A wealthy couple from Palm Beach, Florida approached me yesterday and complimented me for raising such a well-mannered son. If they only know where he came from and how he has changed… I suspect most people on the ship assume he comes from an affluent background. They probably assume I am divorced like so many people my age traveling alone with 12-year olds.

The truth is I am a single, gay adoptive dad, raising a neglected “throwaway” kid, making one last trip with a father entering the gates of dementia, aging and death. I love that we are taking this trip, seeing the world, visiting Africa, enjoying Oceania. Every time I see Casey drinking another milk shake, or see an older couple smiling indulgently at his exuberance and youth, it warms my heart. Every time I see him with my dad I am grateful that my father lived long enough to see me become a dad—that he knows the example he set, the love he unconditionally gave me, and the values he lived are now being passed on by me to another generation. We live through our deeds, our love and our children. Not all of our children are biological, and not all our families are traditional. All of us can fill the role of mother and father for each other, and no matter how old we are, or how loved or unloved we were by our parents, all of us sometimes need a mom and dad. I believe the universe gives us what we need and when the child is ready—no matter what age—the parent appears.

The sea days passed too quickly. Casey is doing needle point with Sukey. My dad wanted to do bridge but I think the mental strain was too much so he chose not to try. I don’t blame him. It’s hard to be bad at something you used to be good at. We play trivia every day and our team either wins or is near the top. Unlike most previous cruises my parents and I aren’t the reason we are winning, we are just on a great team. There are intertesting lecturers, first-rate cooking demonstrations from corporate executive chef Wolfgang Meier, a fantastic magician, hamburgers by the pool and ping pong, shuffleboard and golf. I haven’t done too many activities other than read (I just finished Richard Bach’s ferret stories Curious Lives, they were breath-taking and inspiring), write and take shore excursions.

I attended Captain Jurica Brajcic’s lecture on piracy. Captain Brajcic was the commander the day Nautica was attacked by pirates in 2008. The CEO of Oceania, Frank Del Rio’s, parents were aboard during the incident. When Mr. Del Rio called the ship after the pirates were repelled to make sure his parents were OK, they finally located his dad at Waves Grill eating. When they handed him the phone he said, “Leave us alone Frank. This is the most fun we’ve had on a cruise!” When Frank told me that story I envisioned his father as the actor who plays Everybody Loves Raymond’s dad.

The captain discussed our change in itinerary and stressed that all the guests are safe. He did say that there are some security measures that are obvious, such as extra watches, and other that are present that we are not aware of. I am a military veteran and believe any observant law enforcement officer or ex-soldier paying attention will notice certain security measures on the ship. I’m not going to write about any of them as I want Nautica to every tactical advantage possible and though I believe we are safe, it isn’t in our interests for me to describe the security measures I’ve observed or suspect. I believe we are safe. I have no serious concerns and feel we are in good hands.

A few nights ago at dinner Sukey was trying to encourage Casey to try new dishes. “Would you like some red snapper, Casey? He shook his head no. “How about the free range chicken?” He declined. “What about this Casey. They have Colorado rack of lamb.”

“Lamb!” He yelled too loudly for the dining room. “Who do you think I am?” He looked so disgusted at the thought of eating lamb I burst out laughing. It’s a good thing he doesn’t know the origin of his veal meatballs or foie gras ravioli.

We didn’t make any excursion plans before arriving in Mayotte. In hindsight I wish we had taken the ships tour that went to the botanical garden and perfume factory. The local tourism representatives onboard ship said we could hire a cab for four hours for 80 euros. From my cabin window, Mayotte looked beautiful, but as our tender grew closer I could see that the market near the pier wasn’t that clean and the streets were teeming with people. Despite the bright colored pier walls and a few modern looking buildings the people and the city looked quite poor. We had to walk though the market in the 90-degree humid heat to get to the cab station. Because so many other passengers were also trying to get cabs the rates were 100 euro for a cab if you could find one, and they were subcompact size. None of them seemed to have air conditioning.

“I want to go back, Dad. I don’t like it here.”

“What’s wrong Casey? This is the only time in your life that you’ll ever be in Mayotte and we’re only here for a few hours.”

“It smells bad, it’s too hot and the people talk funny.”

“They’re speaking French.”

“I still don’t like it. Why can’t they speak English?” Between the heat and his sunburn Casey was grumpy. I hoped it wouldn’t ruin our day.

We spent about 20 minutes hustling for a cab. We finally got a driver and set off. Casey was cramped in the backseat between my parents looking miserable. We passed many thin aluminum walled homes on litter strewn roads set against the picturesque ocean background. The people were poor, housing was primitive but the natural setting was fantastic.

“How much longer is this tour dad?”

“About two more hours.”

“That might be about two hours too long,” my mom whispered to him. Our “guide” was a sullen local who spoke no English. He seemed to delight in speeding up to get as close as possible to the car in front of him, slam on the brakes then watch my mother’s reaction. In the first ten miles he came within a foot of hitting a kid on a bicycle and almost rear ended a delivery while talking on his cell phone. I turned his radio down and attempted to discourage him from using his phone while driving. I wasn’t successful. We finally stopped at a beach. He pantomimed that we should get out of the car.

“Make sure you get everything Jack,” my dad warned.

“Don’t worry. You didn’t raise me to leave anything valuable unattended in the car.”

“I didn’t raise you to do lots of things—it didn’t mean you didn’t do them.”

The beach was surrounded by Baobob trees. Casey climbed the roots of the largest. He was at least 10 feet up before the roots came together. Some of the branches were as large as a small car. The tree was inspiring.

Unfortunately it was marked all over with graffiti. We left the beach and drove to a diving spot. Our guide stopped about a half mile from the beach where a man stood at a gate blocking the road to the sea. He motioned for us to get out of the car and walk down to the ocean. We trekked down and when I got to the bottom realized there were at least 30 cars there.

“That guy at the gate was collecting parking money!” I said. “Our guide made us walk down in this heat to save a couple euros!” I was really annoyed. It was bad enough for me, but my dad isn’t walking as well as he used to—his depth perception is poor—and I am trying to limit his motion and opportunity to fall as much as possible.

The beach was beautiful, but we are heading to the Seychelles and Maldives in the next few weeks, so I wasn’t eager to spend time at a beach. There were some lemurs there, and I watched a young girl climb a tree and attempt to feed them.

“Are we almost done?” Casey asked. He didn’t care about the beach or the lemurs.

“I think so. Aren’t you having fun?”

“No, not really. This place makes Tacoma look like a dream land.” I stifled a smile. One of my hopes in taking him on this cruise is that he could discover that as hard as his life in foster care and before was, that there are many people in the world living in far worse conditions.

As we made our way in the hot taxi back to the dock we could see Nautica floating like a jewel in the azure blue sea. “Looks like an oasis, doesn’t it Casey?”

“I don’t know… what’s that?”

“An oasis? It’s when you’re in a hot, boring desert and come to a place with water, figs and shade surrounded by sand as far as you can see.”

“Yep, it’s an oasis. Can I get a milk shake when we get back?”

I don’t know how much Casey absorbed about the poverty in Mayotte, but I know he saw it, and I know it made him appreciate where we live. That evening at trivia Karin asked me, “Do you know how many people are getting of the ship tomorrow?”

“Two hundred?”

“No. Four hundred! Four hundred passengers all getting off at the same time.” I winced.

“That’s as bad as when we went to the pyramids!” I replied.

“I know, it’s going to be crazy.” With two thirds of the ship tendering in to see Madagascar it was going to be a hectic morning. Our tours all began around 7 a.m. The ship needed to depart by 1 p.m. in order to have time to travel 700 nautical miles to the Reunion islands. This only left the morning to see Madagascar. I was disappointed by how short our stay was. As far as I was concerned we could have skipped Mayotte and spent extra time in

Madagascar.

The next morning the Nautica lounge was packed full. I waited about fifteen minutes to get our tender tickets. We were told to be in the lounge at 7:20. We were on time. We didn’t get called to leave the ship until 8:00 o’clock. When we reached the dock in Nosy Be I grew concerned. We had to take a small boat from Nosy Be to see the lemurs in Nosy Komba and the dock was rusted, missing planks and had no hand rails.

Nautica staff has set up sun umbrellas and encouraged everyone to grab bottled water as we headed ashore. I appreciated their thoughtfulness as we waited a little over 45 minutes for our boat. I was in group 17—the last group. I don’t know how things were organized but clearly the size of our crowd overwhelmed the tourism resources available to transport us all to see the lemurs. The ships general manager, Carol Gunetti, personally assisted the ship excursion and local staff to try to accommodate all of us as quickly as possible. He apologized to us several times for the challenges with the dock and for the length of time we had to wait. Although the ride from Nosy Be to Nosy Komba was only twenty

minutes, it took us two and a half hours from the time we met in the Nautica lounge to actually arrive at the black lemur sanctuary. The local tender could only get about 15 feet from the shore, so we needed to take off our shoes and wade in. In the past this wouldn’t have been a problem, but I was worried about my dad. It takes him a while to put on his socks and tie his shoes, and if we had known that we would be wading ashore he could have brought his waterproof sandals instead of leather loafers. He did fine. And once my anxiety about getting him ashore eased I started to notice how beautiful Nosy Komba is.

The island was lush with green vegetation, clear blue water, and up and down the shoreline were small boats in front of grass and wood huts. It was as pretty as any postcard As we arrived children sang local songs and danced, welcoming us to their homes. Though the village was geared to tourists, it was where the people around us lived. As we passed different huts, most displaying hand embroidered table cloths or intricate island carving, I could see their

living quarters just beyond the goods on display.

We were one of the last groups to arrive at the lemur sanctuary. The hundreds of previous passengers that morning had already fed the lemurs. They weren’t interested in coming down and taking a banana from Casey, or posing for photographs. Although I’d hoped to see more lemurs—I only saw about ten total—I still enjoyed watching them in their natural habitat. Our guide did all he could to make the lemurs move, he even shook their tree, but it was soon obvious that the lemurs were having a quiet day.

“I don’t think this was worth the trip,” one lady complained.

“Those lemurs certainly aren’t very interesting,” her companion added.

“I think the ship should give us our money back if this is all we’re going to see. It’s certainly much more interesting to watch monkeys in Gibraltar than these lemurs!”

While I sympathized with them, I disagreed. We were in their home and if the lemurs wanted to rest, it really wasn’t our business to force them into putting on a show for us. I’m glad I went to see the lemurs. I’ll be the first to admit that if I really wanted a quality, intimate lemur experience that going into a small sanctuary with hundreds of other passengers is not the way to do it. But that’s part of cruising. There are advantages such as not having to pack and unpack every day, and disadvantages such as having limited time in ports and having to share that time with all the other guests.

Beside the lemurs the sanctuary featured boa constrictors and chameleons. Casey and I held a snake and he was fascinated by the green chameleon crawling up and down his arm.

While I heard a little complaining about the trip I heard far more compliments. “We loved it!” Anthony’s mother, Patricia, said.

“How did you like the lemurs, Casey?” Our neighbors asked him. Casey grinned and gave two big thumbs up in reply. All in all I recommend the tour. The villagers didn’t push too hard to have us buy things, the beach was beautiful and it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see lemurs in their native environment.

When we returned to the ship Casey couldn’t wait to check his Christmas stoc

king. Sukey brought him one and I mounted it to our door. Everyday different people put things into it. I secretly left him a leather Nautica bookmark

and a candy cane. My mom dropped in a few truffles. Yesterday someone left him three Godiva chocolates and today he got $5 and Hermes lotions and shampoo! Only on Nautica would he get Godiva and Hermes in his Christmas stocking. If I thought it would work I’d put out a stocking for me too!

My dad has good days and bad. Today I noticed my mom talking to a fellow passenger on the tender. The man looked a little older than my dad and they were having a pleasant conversation. She didn’t notice but I saw my dad watching them. He wasn’t jealous, but he was sad. He knows he has lost some of the qualities my mom enjoys, like intelligent conversation, and he knows he won’t ever be the person he used to be again. I want to hold him and tell him that no matter what happens, no matter how he changes, that the essence of who he is, his character, his soul, his spirit—all of these are intact. He could be drooling, incontinent and

mindless and my love for him would be unwavering. He earned our families loyalty and love decades ago. Yes, we are sad. My two brothers and sister that aren’t here are sad too. We miss things the way they used to be, but isn’t that the nature of life: birth, death, repeat? Things change. Things we love go away, new things arrive—we just have to look for them. I can’t take this walk for my dad. Not only that, he wouldn’t let me if I could. He wants me to live my life as best I can and allow him the freedom to meet this new chapter on his own. I can stand by him, I can support him, I can support my mom, but the journey he is on now is mostly a solitary one and though I’d ease the burden if I could, it’s his to walk alone.

Thanks for reading,

Jack