It's humid and hot asea cruising between Mozambique and Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. Beginning tomorrow we can't be on the decks after sunset - a shame because that's when the warm tropical air feels best. But we're moving into piracy country and we have new rules. There's a special emergency code that will be broadcast over the speakers. All we have to do is head to the interior of the ship, out of our cabins and off the decks. The captain has announced that he might have to make an evasive move. There's little chance of anything happening but we know what to do.
Last night everyone was in their best "bibs and tuckers" for New Year's Eve. For some that means their T-shirt with the least offensive printing on it. Overall, the crowd looked good. We're an old bunch —I've seen one child, a couple of teenagers and a handful of people in their twenties. Most of us are between 50 and 80. We are behaving ourselves. Sort of. Everyday there's a new bulletin and the admonishments are listed: no reserving deck chairs all day (the Europeans are champs at this), no sandals in the gym, only three books out of the library at a time—the infractions are minor, but some people are infuriated easily by their fellow man.
Blogging has been impossible. Most of my posts vanished or are stall somewhere in cyberspace. The photos I've posted are gigantic even though I've sized them at 600 x 400. As a result of this frustration, I've had three weeks away from the keyboard, reading instead of writing. A good thing. I hope I've shaken off some of the confinement of writing class rules and regs and can regress back to my own style, such as it was. I'm not worrying about having too many "ing" words in a sentence or about eliminating adverbs. After feeling frozen creatively for months, I'm thawing out and feeling fine here on the Indian Ocean.
Happy New Year!