Accents
Sea Fever: dreamy and groovy
Cape Canaveral, Florida, USA—May 31, last Monday of May, designated as Memorial Day, means a longer weekend for the workhorses in the family: Randy, our internist daughter, and her husband David, a CPA. And youngest daughter Raileen, a pediatrician, and her husband Nixon, the office manager of Raileen’s clinic. Four people you can’t hold a candle to when it comes to job commitment and dedication. Time out then for a much deserved weeklong break from the grindstone, May 29 –June 5: a cruise to Cozumel and Costa Maya of Mexico, Isla Roatan of Honduras, and Belize of the British Commonwealth.
(Above paragraph I scribbled as we took the long drive from South Carolina to Cape Canaveral where cruise ship Carnival Dream was waiting for a party of eight: the four workhorses plus four “grands” — granddaughters Danika and Raisa June and grandparents Rudy and his you-know-who. I had the post-it notes ready because I wanted to be computer-free for the entire week. No emails streaming to and fro. Just pure leisure, pure free time from mundane cares, free from the humdrum of existence. The result: a coalition of the wistful with the hip, the pensive with the cool, and the present intermingled with remembrances of things past.)
The sea has always held a special fascination for me—kind of a sea fever that started in childhood when father, the long departed Oton Mayor Simplicio C. Carreon, would bring us kids on a Sunday morning frolic at the beach of our beloved town by the sea. Thus in high school, I took to memorizing lines from John Masefield’s poem, Sea Fever: “I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky/And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by…/ I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide/ Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied…” Poetic lines that feed the wanderlust so much so that when the daughters said let’s go on a cruise, it was all systems go.
Never were sunrise and sunset more awesome than when Old Sol rose or set on a vast expanse of sea horizon unmarred by monstrous high-rises and jagged mountain peaks, the dazzling rays reflected in the water. The Sunset Bar in the Carnival Dream with its wide railings provided a secure place for viewing and the right ambience for contemplation, and believe me, for praying—the sea so calm, the movement of the ship so gentle, the hour so solemn it could beat any congested church for worship.
The younger set in the contingent were on their toes most of the time—stretch class, yoga, pilates, dance exercises, all sorts of physical fitness activities that included swimming. I tried the pool early one morning when it was empty of kids, only to find it too short for lapping — about the one downside this swimming aficionado found in the Carnival dreamboat. But its Jacuzzi was indeed most relaxing.
The large Jackpot Casino—open all mornings till the late hours with all the enticements of bringing home the big bucks—was a no-no to the eight of us. The smoke from the playing crowd was simply intolerable especially for this cancer survivor. The spacious Encore Theater was full of Bingo fans that we could join. Even so, strolling in the corridors and breathing in fresh air trumped the lure of the game of chance. I could while away at the Page Turner library, but why spend time with a book that you can have any day of the week in the house?
The Caliente, the ship’s disco pad, was for both the young and old. The granddaughters, the grandparents, and the in-between took to the floor. The rock and roll beat a la Michael Jackson was unstoppable and inviting, Rudy had to abandon his cane to rock with little Danika. Caliente offered the best exercise to shake off the calories accumulated in the buffet tables.
To us in the sunset, nay golden years of our lives, precious moments were in the Dream Atrium listening to the romantic music of the Cool Breeze by the duo, Rey and Judy, both Filipinos. Rey, the adept pianist, has ancestry from Palawan, Iloilo, and Negros and could converse with us in Ilonggo. We didn’t get to talk with Judy, the charming, young songstress. Two talented kababayans the Filipino can be proud of anywhere in the world.
The Dream Atrium has a dance floor that can accommodate those who would like to traipse the light fantastic. The hubby requested for the Anniversary Song which Judy politely refused, not being familiar with the song. Nonetheless, Rey, himself a songster, happily obliged as Rudy and I took to the dance floor and waltzed to the beauty of the lyrics, “Oh, how we danced on the night we were wed, we vowed our true love though a word wasn’t said…” Oh, how we swayed as the words floated. We were the only ones who danced to this music that when the song ended, we made a slight bow as the other couples clapped. A lady exclaimed Bravo! for us, and thanking her, I said 2010 is our 50th year of marriage bliss. Proudly Pinoy, I added, “We are from the Philippines.” She said she’s from Boston, and that they had nice Filipino neighbors. Gush, it was dreamtime and my only regret: the children were not around with their video cam to record it all. We weren’t able to make it to the YouTube.
Was it Rey or was it Judy who sang the Bee Gees song that I love? Words are all I have to take your heart away. We listened to song after song — I and the “Love of my Life.” Oh, well, let the cliché go when you mean it. Words were all I have before calling it a night before another day of Sea Fever: pensive and cool, wistful and hip. (Next week: The Overseas Filipino Workers in the Carnival Dream)
(Email: lagoc@hargray.com)
