I never thought I would see the Panama Canal, let alone be sitting at my desk watching it slide past the ship for the 5th, perhaps 6th time – and that’s not me purposely name-dropping, I honestly have lost track.
After all this time, it’s still beautiful. All stepped terraces and lush greenery, with the occasional splash of a red tile roof to remind you that yes, there is civilization here. In fact, there are moments today when we’ll be sailing right through the middle of civilization. I wonder if the citizens of the area even notice the ships anymore, of if they’ve become just another part of the scenery, like the rest of us would view cars or buses going by on the street outside our door.
The Canal has not changed much since it was built all those years ago, they say the only real change is that the mules that operate it are now electronic instead of living animals, which is a good thing in the long run – but the system has remained the same, tried and true throughout the centuries.
They’re expanding it to hold the new so-called mega-ships, and something in me just totally rails against that, though I can’t quite put my finger on why.
For the most part, this is a slow day for us. The guests are mostly up on deck watching the world slip by on either side of us, and the rest of us are happy to take the opportunity to catch up on work that well – work – has kept us from doing (there are rather a lot of levels of work here 😉 ). When I walked into the library this morning it was blissfully empty, but once we were through the first lock it started to gradually fill up, but for the most part it’s still just people staring out the window. One of those days where for the most part the world seems to be content with itself.
We really need more days like that…
Sitting here, enjoying the unexpected rush of peace in the office (which really doesn’t happen very often these days) movement outside the window caught my eye. At first there does not appear to be a breath of wind stirring outside, and yet a small patch of palm trees is tossing as if in a gale. In a place like this, where one feels so removed from civilization at the same time one feels so aware of it, it’s easy to imagine all kinds of things that might be causing such a tempest in the canopy. Is something jumping from tree to tree? Something running swiftly through the undergrowth in search of prey or shelter?
Or is it just the wind, dancing in the leaves like a child in sunlight?