American Venice on the Edge of a Swamp, or How We Sailed Away into the Caribbean Sea.

 

Gemini said

Gemini saiПосле трёх дней в Бока-Ратоне уплывали на круизном лайнере "Sun Princess" на Карибские острова. На семь дней! 

Gemini said

American Venice on the Edge of a Swamp,

or

How We Sailed Away into the Caribbean Sea.

After three days in Boca Raton, we were sailing away on the cruise liner "Sun Princess" to the Caribbean islands. For seven days! And this included visiting three islands, the first of which was Princess Cays—a private resort of the Princess Cruises company on Eleuthera Island (Bahamas). Then came the most wonderful day of the trip: a day in the port city of San Juan, Puerto Rico (the island's capital). After two days "at sea," or rather in the ocean, we spent most of the day in St. Thomas—one of the main islands in the U.S. Virgin Islands. This is how you sail—catching up on a missed education, learning geography and history unobtrusively. 

I’ll try to tell you about the cruise (though, better not to make promises here; my half-written stories about Japan are still lying around), so I’ll tell what I can, what I have time for... 

First, we have to sail away! And we sailed from Port Everglades, which is between Boca Raton and Miami.

The city of Fort Lauderdale itself is called the "American Venice," something I didn't know at all. It’s called that because of the vast number of canals (they stretch over four hundred and eighty kilometers here). Only now am I looking at the map, studying where we sailed from and where to, but back then I was simply admiring the view of the city from the top deck—the luxurious villas on the shore we were passing, the yachts parked at the villas...

I think if you were to advertise cruises departing from this port, these villas and these yachts are exactly what should be shown as the city's calling card; the departure from the port should be advertised as the first page of the journey.

We weren't the only liner in port.

Look at this photo, count the liners in the foreground, and then add those whose funnels are sticking out in the distance. They say Fort Lauderdale is one of the three largest cruise ports in the world. On peak days, up to ten or twelve liners, like the one we sailed on, can stand here simultaneously. "Our" liner, the "Sun Princess," is one of the most modern in this port. It is the flagship, the largest and most modern in the entire Princess fleet. (Well, I'll tell you about the liner itself later; not everything is as happy as, remember, in the state of Denmark. Forgive me, I'm not bragging, just for my own pleasure I’ll quote "Hamlet," as Evstigneev said, "swing at William, you see, our Shakespeare": "Something is rotten in the state of Denmark." Which in the translation by my favorite Mikhail Lozinsky sounds as "Something has rotted in the Danish state." Under Boris Pasternak's pen, the phrase sounded different: "Rot has settled in the Danish kingdom." It seems like the same thing, yet somehow I like Lozinsky better; he's more "Shakespearean," while Pasternak is more about Pasternak... Oh, I'll make enemies with my comments! Especially since, besides the analogies in my brain, the Shakespeare quote has nothing in common with the cruise and our adventures on the ship. And the "adventures" need a separate story; for now, we are just sailing away. And looking at photos.)

"Our" liner runs on liquefied natural gas, and special conditions have been created in the Everglades for such eco-friendly giants. We’ll praise the ship for that to start with. And the special conditions are an artificially built canal, very deep, specifically for giants with such displacement. 

The exit from Port Everglades is, I think, one of the most beautiful in the world. Although I wouldn't mind sailing from our Long Beach again. But there you sail past a huge industrial cargo port, which somehow grabs all the attention. When departing from Lauderdale, I quickly realized that the port is on one side, and all the interesting stuff is on the other.

Meanwhile, the ship was already living its own life: some were swimming in the pools, some had already settled down to lie for a bit, the crew was dancing—a traditional entertainment during departures—and most passengers on the top deck were either watching the show or wandering around...

The first day is a scramble, general movement on the ship; you just have to survive it and get into the rhythm of the vacation... I anchored myself on the top deck, chose a shooting spot—don't feed me bread, just let me watch and take photos. (No, no, feed me bread and many other things! This is a cruise! Smile.) From the top deck, the view is stunning: a panorama of the city, elegant estates on the shore with their docks and boats! Oh, yachts, of course, yachts, excuse me!

The most interesting thing is that very close by (well, relatively close, looking at the map) are the huge marshy plains of the Everglades (Everglades National Park)! These swamps, with their alligators and rare birds, begin very near the port. We weren't there, but we went to the artificial "swamp" in Boca Raton, so we have a rough idea, and we’ve read about the Everglades: it's the only place on the planet where alligators and crocodiles coexist. The water there doesn't stand still; it flows very slowly, creating a unique ecosystem. And in that swamp live the rarest Florida panthers and manatees—sea cows. And those pink birds with spoon-shaped beaks... give me a minute, I'll remember the name... no, didn't remember, had to look at an old story: roseate spoonbills! And also large grey herons and ibises in huge numbers... It would be good to see them with my own eyes! But... there are alligators, and even pythons... br-r-r, we’d better go to the Virgin Islands! However, looking at the map, on this ultra-modern liner we are practically on the border of two worlds: an ancient unique swamp and a cutting-edge city.

And the city, which arose at the beginning of the last century, has grown incredibly.

High-rise residential complexes with panoramic glazing. (I’m googling the names—these are the Las Olas condominiums.)

The Pier Sixty-Six hotel—a historical landmark of the city, easy to recognize by the famous revolving tower on top. Those same luxurious private villas I already wrote about. These are some of the most expensive plots of land in Florida. The Harbor Inlet area.

Interestingly, the villas are in different styles: some have red tiled roofs in the "Florida Renaissance" style, others are metal and glass—modernist. I didn't expect such eclecticism to look so wonderful. Moreover, the variety of styles is exactly what makes the houses individual: each house has its own face.

Did you notice that no one is swimming in the ocean? The beach, long, white sand, with umbrellas that decorate the beach so well... is practically empty. And in the ocean—not a soul! And many houses on the coast have their own pools.

Back then I thought it was related to the liners departing from here; now I've checked: yes, but not only that. 

Right at the exit of the canal (Port Everglades Inlet), swimming is officially prohibited and dangerous: there are strong currents here. Huge masses of water are pumped through the narrow channel during tides. This creates powerful "rip currents" that can carry a person into the ocean in seconds. 

When a giant like the Sun Princess passes through the canal, it literally displaces the water in front of it and "sucks" it in behind it. Near the shore, the water level can drop sharply and then return as a wave. This is a very dangerous zone for swimmers. Although ecology is strictly monitored in Florida, the port exit is where water from the internal canals mixes with the ocean. After rains, water from the city can carry all sorts of debris. People prefer to go about a kilometer north or south, where the water is clearer and more azure. 

Sometimes purple flags are hung on the beaches. This means the presence of dangerous marine fauna. In winter, winds often bring "Portuguese man o' war" to the shore—not little boats at all, but jellyfish (Physalia physalis), whose stings are very painful. (Very beautiful in photos, though.) On such days, the shore might be full of people, but for obvious reasons, no one will enter the water.

Many come here not to swim, but to fish from the rocks or watch the liners. In short, the vast ocean—majestic, beautiful, and cruel—belongs here to giant currents and giant ships, not to swimmers. 

I found another funny detail: our departure was in winter, in December, when for Florida residents the water is considered "cold." At this time of year, it’s mostly tourists sunbathing on the beaches, and few enter the water. Floridians themselves start swimming en masse when the water warms up to +27°C and higher. They live well! It’s "cold" for the residents in twenty-degree water... Actually, when my friends and I were at a local beach, the water seemed "a bit cold" to us too. 

Oh, I’ve started talking too much! Let’s sail on.

Two huge buildings right at the entrance to the ocean also have a name: "Point of Americas." They say people on their balconies often wave towels at the liners, and the passengers wave back. It’s a whole tradition!

I saw that our passengers waved to everyone passing and staying. And I, to be honest, couldn't resist either. But I didn't notice any greetings from the balconies of some of the most expensive apartments in Florida. On the internet, people write that they were seen off with powerful flashlights, the sounds of horns... 

Well, I don't know, maybe the well-wishers overlept us, or were busy—there are many of us sailing past them here.

But from the very beginning, several boats decided to escort us, competing to see who could sail past us faster, who, sailing next to the liner, could kick up the biggest wave with white foam spray on a turn.

If I were younger, I’d say they were showing off, preening, boasting of their boats and yachts, but now, having grown up "a little," I just think how great it is that people were getting pleasure from life, the ocean, movement, the beauty of the surroundings... well, and from the opportunity to "show themselves," why not? And it was pleasant for us from above to watch all these "competitions." 

And to wave our hands at those sailing by.

One of the boats accompanied us for a long time, going far out into the ocean. Before returning to port, it described a wide, beautiful arc with diverging waves and spray...

Which made all of us standing on the top deck and filming the departure incredibly happy.

The last to part from us with a farewell whistle was a tiny tugboat that had been faithfully guiding us into the open ocean.

And we were left alone in that ocean.

Alright, time to wrap up the narrative.

Lastly—photos of the sunset on the first day of the cruise, taken from our cabin balcony.

It was one of the most colorful sunsets of my life. At the very least, this sunset was the most colorful of the entire voyage.

(Where you see buildings—the photos were taken with maximum zoom.)

I can only compare it to the sunsets in Boca Raton itself, where the setting sun illuminated the clouds scattered across the sky in pink.

And it can also be compared to watching the sunset on Matador Beach, where I went this year.

But every sunset has its own "zest"... 

Here, perhaps, it was the special "bloodiness" of the descending sun that reflected the same color onto the clouds.

And for a long time, the silhouette of the city was visible, backlit by that sinking sun.

The silhouette of the city, looking as if it were standing on the water.

And also a little movie: from the moment "the sun is still here, just setting" to the moment "oh, it's already gone below the horizon" is just one turn of the camera, just a few seconds.

I was also surprised by the color of the water, which, as soon as the sun left, became dark-dark, inky. And when the last ray broke through the clouds, a pink path suddenly appeared on that inky water...

An absolutely fairytale view!

Then came the darkness. 

And then morning came. 

But that is another story.