Dear Marian and Beth,

I’ve taken another trip. If I were to add this to my book, The Myth of the Yellow Kitchen, it would fit in either the chapter called “Challenge and Choice,” or “Resolution.”  But it is already in print so think of this as another chapter.

With some friends I planned a trip in early January to Costa Rica and the Panama Canal, a recreational trip, a trip to get away from the bitter, January Boston weather.  Boston was 2 degrees during the day and below zero at night.  What a perfect time to get away. I haven’t been away for a long time and really forgot what it was like to see new places, to taste new foods, to experience new cultures and the people.  We live on a large planet and there are so many cultures and differences.  On some level everyone is the same, they are born, grow up, marry, have children, work, and age.  But different people do it in different ways.  And that is what is so intriguing to me.

The ship, The Variety Voyager, is small by general cruise standards, with only seventy passengers staying more or less two to a cabin.  A Greek vessel, it has almost everything you could want on a vacation, appetizing food; spotless, comfortable and beautifully appointed cabin; a gym; cheerful and helpful staff; and great trips on land.

The trip begins in Costa Rica, with one night at the magnificent Radisson Hotel and then from  the ship we sample the city of San Jose, the wonderful, pristine beaches, nature trails, animals, birds, fish, the special food of Costa Rica.  On one unspoiled beach we snorkel, in the calm, clear water.  The staff provides barbecues. How they do it is a mystery to me.  How do they carry all that food and everything else that goes with a meal?

Everywhere we meet gentle and kind people.  As always when I travel, I am eager to learn what is different and what is the same.  Here in Costa Rica, there is no army, but people live in houses guarded by heavy chain link fences.

One day we are lost and a family asks a few of us in. They give us tea and tell us how to get to where we are going.  I am charmed by their hospitality.  Would that happen in America?  They are not afraid.  But the chain link fence is strongly locked.  These contradictions that I perceive and do not understand intrigue me.

The nights are wondrous, the ship moves gently through the Pacific.  Only two nights does the ship rock with the current and the waves.  There is music at night, by a wonderful staff member from Serbia, who can play classical music, pop, jazz and a million songs that we sing together.  Where did he learn this?  He did not begin studying music until he was seventeen.  The ingenuity of people amazes me.  We, the Americans, are not wealthy but rich enough to be on this ship and have our children study music at an early age.  I marvel at the staff, their lives are difficult, but they smile, are gracious and play the most wonderful music with joy and passion.

Finally we reach what we all came for—The Panama Canal.  It cost $17,000 for the ship to pass through it at night and we crowd the front deck as we watch the ship move through the four locks, pulled by small trucks, called mules.  Mules are what pulled the ships when the Canal was built in 1914.  How did they do it then without the modern technology?  The trip through the Canal takes eight hours and the hardy few of us stay to see us go through the last lock at 1:30 a.m.  I studied the Panama Canal a lot in school but I didn’t imagine largesse, the man-made lakes that feed it, the work crews, and the wondrous locks.  Who were these people that envisioned this feat in 1914?  So much to know and to learn.

One night, the Captain Andreas Sifnotis tells us about his life, he is Greek and met his wife when they were both young and working on a ship.  The sea is his life.  He explains  nautical terms, what he is responsible for, what makes a ship go.  We listen carefully, we learn about the life at sea, how the ship works, the many layers of life and pleasure and work.  The staff comes from many places, Greece, Serbia, Costa Rica, the Island of Mauritius, the Philippines, Indonesia and Egypt.  Some come for the love of the sea, others for work, to work hard and send money home.  A few have not been home for years but send money home.  Four young girls from Indonesia arrived a month ago.  They are struggling to learn English and yet are always kind and helpful.

The last day before the trip ends, we go by man-made wooden canoes to visit a tribe in the rain forest.  The bus takes two hours, the canoe ride through the rain forest another hour.  We arrive and are welcomed by twenty-eight families  living in the rain forest wearing loin clothes, dyes and tattoos.  The women do not cover their breasts.  They live on dirt and I wonder how come there is no grass here in the middle of the rain forest?  We eat fish they have caught and some herb they have grown.  Their arts are all around us, for sale, ranging in price from $10.00 to over $500.00.  Another contradiction.  This primitive group of people knows about money and American dollars. I’d been on a canoe so I didn’t have much money on me, but I did buy two $5 bracelets.

This is Epilogue 2 for my book.  In your imagination, add it to the Myth of the Yellow Kitchen as another chapter about life, work, pleasure and complexity.  Learning goes on forever—in seven days I learned about hardship, kindness, new cultures, the technology and magnitude of the Canal.  I could go on and on, but take the trip yourself, and, don’t forget, read my book.