So, it’s 5:30pm. We have to be on the ship in less than 2 hours, but at least I’m outdoors now. In my imagination, Cartagena, Columbia would look like a scene from “Candide,” but the view out the porthole this morning looked more like New Jersey.

Both mental images left me disinclined to venture out, and consumed with desire to camp out onboard with my sketchbooks and a coffee. (I didn’t put it together that Colombian coffee comes from Colombia, and might likely be available nearby.) Anyway, I was really productive for several hours. By the time I thought about getting off the ship, everyone had gone out. But just as I was giving up, I bumped into Daniel and persuaded him out for a jaunt through the cruise terminal:

This is Matthew, the new trumpet player, Darryl the lighting guy, and Daniel, an activities staff (and Liz’s and my unofficial son). As you can see, my worries about getting new band members was unfounded. The new guys are fun.
It’s so humid out here, my COMPUTER was fogging up! On the bright side, I’m in awe of the gigantic leaves, various bird calls and the dimming powdery blue of the sky. I’ve noticed that on ships you get attuned to smells and to natural light. Remember that in the Caribbean, I usually have to be onboard by 5, and at work by 7. This is my first twilight since October.

So here are the lessons [re]learned today:
1. If you hear people say “There’s nothing there,” it will probably be right up your alley.
2. If the cruise director emphasizes the dangers of a port, and you’ve spent any time in a big city, you’re probably fine.
3. Get off the ship, if you haven’t seen the port yet. You won’t regret it.