World Tour II Postcards, Page 11:  Excerpts from postcards sent in EARLY MARCH, 1996
 

Antarctic Penninsula, 4 March 1996 -- Greetings!  Mount Kilimanjaro was the best $250 that I ever spent (back in 1987) ... the Galapagos Islands were the best $1000 (late last year) ... and for my pleasure, I can think of no better way to spend $2000 on myself than to be right here.  There's some kind of peace-of-mind that comes from witnessing for oneself such a vast area of unspoiled tranquility.  They call Antarctica a "World Park" now, one of the greatest examples of international cooperation and a great symbol of our hopes for world peace and for resolving global enviornmental problems that threaten us all.

In 100 years of Antarctic exploration, far fewer people have been here on this huge continent than attend Disneyworld on a single day.  I feel quite lucky to be in this very special place.

Antarctic Penninsula, 4 March 1996 -- Greetings!  The minke whales, up to 30 feet in length, encircled our little 10-person Zodiac raft.  It was the closest encounter our guides could remember having with that type of whale.  We wondered for a moment as one swam directly under us if we might soon be elevated out of the water.

It's been fun to learn about and to watch the several species of seals, penguins and sea birds we've been observing, but my biggest joy has been to listen to the cracking and crashing of enormous glaciers that tower over us, to see the artful shapes that nature has carved into the ice, to float among a forest of iceburgs wondering whether you'll be able to navigate through the touch-and-go obstacle course, and to feel the intimidation that part of a big glacier might give way setting forth a wave that could throw you into the icy waters.  You can feel the tension and the adrenelin rush of the Russian captain and crew in the ship's steering room.  At those times, it's best to stay out of their way as they navigate among the iceburgs.  We've successfully made all but two of our dozen scheduled landing sites -- never a sure thing anywhere in Antarctica.

Everything has been fabulous on this ship.  The other day we had a barbaque on the outside deck in 35 degree Farenheit temperatures (0 degrees F. where exposed to the wind) surrounded by breathtaking mountain scenery.  Very entertaining and enthusiastic lecturers have presented slide shows on penguins, seals, whales, glaciers, Antarctic history, laws and the race to the South Pole.

Love,
Tennessee Tuxedo

Drake Passage, 6 March 1996 -- We're crossing Drake Passage again on our return voyage rounding Cape Horn, the far southern tip of the Americas.  We're lucky so far again to have relatively calm waters, as they often are not here.

Of 12 attempted landings in Antarctica, only 2 were not successful, due to ice conditions or high winds.  The Zodiac landing crafts, though often providing us with wet, bouncy rides, were well suited to getting us in among and sometimes on top of the broken ice chunks.  Out last stop was on the South Shetland Islands at adjacent Russian and Chilean research bases where live about 100 year-round residents, including about 20 children.

The rocking motion of our ship, like rocking a baby, makes everyone feel like sleeping all day long.  Sometimes, it's hard to drag yourself up for the extremely interesting and enthusiastically presented slide lectures.  We all have our sea legs now, but more importantly, our inner ears have adapted to the motions in what is notoriously one of the world's roughest seas -- the "dreaded Drake".

There are a dozen or more incredible but true stories of survival and tragedy from this region, any one of which would make an epic motion picture if Hollywood would wise up.

I'm not sure what it is about this place that captivates my imagination so much, but even with the high costs of coming here, I think I'd like to return someday.  Last night, we partied hearty with some young folks in their honeymoon suite.

Ushuaia, Argentina, 8 March 1996 -- Queridas todos!  I wish I could say that Antarctica was the most fabulous travel experience that I've ever had, but unfortunately, I won't remember it quite that way.  It was well on the way to being worhty of such a declaration when the experience became severely tempered by some very cold treatment I received from some folks on our ship.  It was colder by far than anything I felt outdoors on the frozen continent.  I'm not sure when it began, but things seemed to worsen when I began to take a romantic interest in a woman from England whom I had know for several days.  She immediately rejected me, something which I almost always experience, but to which I'll never adapt well.  She said she wasn't ready for romance now.  I told her she didn't need to explain, but I was not surprised when she soon found a more charming, amusing, handsome gentleman to occupy her time on the ship.  It's a rather redundant story for me.  More significantly, a mutual acquaintance, for whom I'd helped to obtain the last available reservation on the ship, began to ostracize me completely, refusing to talk or even to look at me, and seemingly getting others to join in, all unexplainably.  What had started as cordial relationships became inexplicably cold, and for some reason, I became too depressed to muster the energy to break the ice.  Not a goodbye was said, and I'm glad to be back on terra firma.

In the hostal where I now stay is a disturbed young woman who paces the floor, seemingly uncontrollably.  I am reminded of how fragile we all are.

Torres Del Paine National Park, Chile, 12 March 1996 -- Buenas noches!  Though not as high, the mountains are more majestic here than almost anywhere in the Americas, jumping nearly 10,00 feet vertically from a base near sea level.  I spent a couple days and a night camping among the magnificent "horns" and "spires" of rock carved by glaciers.  It's summer's end, and I was snowed upon, but the skies cleared and the views were marvelous!

While you're "springing ahead" for daylight savings time in the northern hemisphere, we're "falling back" to standard time in the southern hemisphere for a net change of two hours.

I was luckier than I first imagined to be on what turned out to be the last Antarctic voyage of the season.  Once back at port in Ushuaia, the ship I rode to Antarctica was impounded, and high level crew members were arrested, allegedly for non-payment of certain expenses, notably for fuel.  Later that day, the same day we returned, the next set of 80 passengers, mostly folks who flew from the States and Canada only a day earlier, were allowed to get comfortable on board in their cabins.  Imagine the pandemonium when they were told just after finishing their desserts from their "Welcome Aboard" dinner (and the ship had begun moving, giving the impression that they were on their way to Antarctica, but actually only moved to another place on the dock).  Apparently, none of the crew had the courage to make the announcement, and they instead were handed a letter saying their trip had been cancelled.  It was not a pretty scene.  Many were sent back home on flights the next day.  I shared a short flight with a bunch of somber, angry, but stiff-upper-lip folks who were told that they would be fully compensated.  Of course, that didn't satisfy them.

Ushuaia has one of the world's most frightening airports, with one short runway and constant high speed winds from unpredictable directions; but the views over the mountains and glaciers of Tierra Del Fuego almost make the terror worth it.

I shared a dorm room with Nicky and Manuela, my estranged travel companions I mentioned in the previous postcard, and we made peace, more or less.
 
 

Santiago, Chile, 14 March 1996 -- Buenas tardes!  I'm back in the temperate climate of Santiago where it is forever springlike, but I found this postcard here of one of the Chilean military bases I visited in Antarctica.  Chile, Argentina and Britain all have claims over the Antarctic Peninsula, although the U.S. and most other countries have never recognized any claims on the continent.  The Antarctic Treaty since 1961 has prohibited any military use of the continent other than for logistical support of research for peaceful purposes.  40 countries have now signed on to the treaty, and most others officially recognize it, and it's been working like a charm.  Still, eight countries have established bases for what are probably more than just research purposes.  The treaty expires in 45 years, and if petroleum and minerals are discovered, all bets are off.

The winds are so strong and incessant in Tierra Del Fuego and Patagonia that it seemed almost every Chilean and Argentine flag I saw was ripped in half and shredded at the ends as they flapped in the breeze.

There is something eirily romantic about Antarctica.  I have a feeling that I will feel compelled to return someday.

Santiago, Chile, 15 March 1996 -- Buenas tardes!   Santiago, which enjoys a Southern-California type climate (almost always sunny and mild) also suffers from Los Angeles type smog.  As in L.A., the mountains to the east block the pollution and make them hardly visible except after infrequent rains.

Still, Santiago seems a very pleasant place.  Unlike L.A., it's not so sprawling, it's center is very pedestrian friendly with beautiful parks and street malls, and it has an excellent subway and public transportation system.  The downtown street malls stretch for a mile in multiple directions and are lively places with street entertainment every evening.

If Chile wants into the North American Free Trade Agreement, the transition should be an easy one compared to the experience with Mexico.  Prices and wages are not so different from the U.S., there's relatively little hardcore poverty here, and the majority of the people don't seem very far removed from living a U.S. lifestyle, although fewer have single-family homes and automobiles.

All over Latin America, city parks are crowded with very demonstrative lovers of all ages.  Perhaps it is because homes are often small, shared with one's extended family (including parents, grandparents, etc.), and even though you have lots of company in the parkes, they're likely to be less critical of public displays of affection because they're all doing the same thing.  Sometimes, every park bench is occupied, semi-private spots on the grass are hard to find, and it looks like one big love-in.

Of all the places I've been in Latin America, Chilean women appear on average to be the most tormentingly beautiful, although Brazilian women have a reputation for being deadly.  I'll see when I get there.

A subtle stir in the audience occured when Oliver Stone's "Nixon" talked about getting rid of Chile's President Salvador Allende.  When he died in the early 70s, it was said to be a suicide, but many likely do not believe this.
 
 

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