Monday, February 7, 2022 

The ship is docked in Puerto Caldera, Costa Rica, today.  As the name implies, the harbor ap-pears to have been formed in the remnants of an ancient volcano.  There is a ring of small and medium mountains/hills surrounding the port.  Puerto Caldera is the starting point for a variety of shore excursions to the interior; Costa Rica is one of the world's major eco-tourism destinations.  With an all-aboard time of 5:30, one can assume some of these tours are quite long and involve lots of time on The Big Bus.  No thanks. 

When we were here a few weeks ago, we stayed on board for the entirety.  The pier is long [at least 2 blocks] and the temperatures are relatively high. Again, no thanks.  Ken and Lois made the trek to the craft market at the end of the pier and said it was not worth the time and effort to get there.  We felt superior for not going. 

Today's visit presented a challenge of sorts -- finding chips and ramen noodles for the waitstaff.  If a shirt or two fell into the shopping bag, all the better.  The pier was still 1000 feet long and temperatures were announced as ranging from 76 to 86 as the day wore on, so D started out early to avoid the worst of the heat. One of the MDR waiters told us this morning that there is a shuttle from the ship to the craft market; either it wasn't running before or Ken and Lois missed it.  The Zoo Choo, for that is what it looked like, was waiting near the gangway when D walked off the ship and he was able to get right on once he had shown his COVID vaccination card.  After a brief wait, we trundled away.  The speed limit posted on the pier is 10 kph, approximately 6 mph, so this was, to say the least, a leisurely ride. 

At the market, D wandered around looking at the vendors' wares but not really looking for anything specific.  There were the ubiquitous t-shirts, hats, jewelry, wood products and a very few masks.  When he reached one side of the market, a woman tried to ply him with shirts but he said simply, "supra mercado?" [This was what the Wal-Mart in Puerto Vallarta called itself]  The woman thought for a second and then pointed to the adjacent street and said, "three blocks." So off he went.  

Walking through Puerto Caldera reminded him of other Third World countries we have visited.  Poorly maintained streets and sidewalks; wide-open gutters which may have at one point handled sewage; and run-down commercial buildings.  One one hand, it was a little depressing but on the other, this was the real town, not the touristy market. At the third corner, D looked for a supermarket [which is what "supra mercado" means] and saw a sign for MegaSuper.  There was a small parking lot in front of it a la Jakarta behind a tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire.  The store itself was not necessarily super, but it was a market and offered most of the products one would expect to find.  There were fewer American brands than at the Wal-Mart and, again, no one seemed to speak English, but D wandered the short aisles and found ramen noodles and chips.  We're not sure what the chips are but there 12 individual bags per package and he bought two of them.  He also picked up ten packages of ramen noodles.  At check-out, the clerk tapped his credit card, handed him a receipt and went on break without a word.  With no idea of the exchange rate, D is curious to find out how much this whimsy actually cost. [Later -- D looked up a currency converter online and then received an email from the credit card company to verify the purchase for $10.08.] 

On the way back, he went directly to the stand where the woman had given him the directions and bought a polo shirt for himself and a t-shirt for MA.  Now we can prove we were here.  There was a drum group playing by the market with two men dancing to the beat of the drums.  The noise seemed endless and made conversation with the saleswoman difficult, but we managed.  The band played on and on while D waited for the shuttle to reappear.  Dressed all in pink, the group looked like an amalgam of the Brazilian Boi Bumba dancers, the chorus girls from Havana's Copacabana and a gay rights parade. 

After putting up with the drums for as long as he could, D started to walk back to the ship and crossed the street.  After going through Security [show the key card, squirt some antiseptic], he found plastic chairs under a canopy.  This was the shuttle stop for the return trip for which he was grateful.  It may not have been faster, but is surely more comfortable.  Back home, he proudly showed his purchases to MA who approved.  

We were going to go to lunch around 1 p.m., but MA was a little unsteady.  We ordered from Room Service and she ate a protein bar while waiting in order to raise her blood sugar.  We watched Food Network while we ate and until the waiter came to collect the tray.  Then it was lights out and we were asleep without much effort. 

The evening was uneventful -- drink, dinner, casino with not much luck.  At dinner, D asked again about getting some Indonesian food for supper.  This has been an on-going request which was rebuffed/ignored by the MDR Suit.  Danan was able to get a commitment from the chef to fulfill our request on the last night, this coming Saturday.  This may be their way of saying, "Good riddance!" 

Speaking of food...We had asked the staff at the Pinnacle Grill to make a reservation for what is known as Rudy's Sel de Mer, a seafood extravaganza which is held once on each cruise.  When we asked during the first leg, we were assured that the reservation would be made but that the staff did not yet have a date.  Sunday, D found out that the Sel de Mer had been served on Friday evening and we had not been notified.  D approached/confronted the staff member involved about the reservation.  Yes, it had been made but we had not shown up.  How were we supposed to know when it was scheduled unless the staff notified us?  Oh, it was on the Navigator app which we barely use.  So, to them, it was our fault that we weren't there and they didn't even call the room.  Of course, Friday was the rock-and-roll ship and we would not have gone anyway, but that is not the point. We are scheduled to have dinner at the Pinnacle tomorrow for MA's birthday, but we're not going to show up again.  

Tomorrow -- A Sea Day as We Approach the Canal