Fjords of Patagonia

Anza-Borrego Desert State Park Wildflowers Photo Gallery

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When the boat began loading at 9:30 on a Thursday evening, there was a mild stampede to get on, especially for us economy-class (also known as dungeon-class or burro-class) travelers. My girlfriend, Signe, and I didn't want to end up in one of the top bunks of the triple-decker beds, which require elaborate climbing equipment to reach. Once you get there, there's only three inches of headroom, so passengers with large noses have to wedge themselves in.

I managed to grab a middle bed, which was just fine. Sheets were not furnished, but there was a blanket with a slight urine smell, a pillow with a slight vomit smell, and a reading light.

There were two 24-occupant dungeon-class barracks, each equipped with two toilets and one shower. (If you work out the bathroom math and factor in the typical peak usage times, this translates roughly to a waiting period of just long enough to wet your blanket and vomit on your pillow.) The barracks were located at the very bottom of the ship, scattered alongside the engine room, the generator, the anchor-chain-dropping room, and the rock-concert-amplifier-testing room. It was loud.

The boat left port early Friday morning without fanfare while most of the passengers were sleeping. We were awakened by the first of many announcements at 9 a.m., alerting us that something vaguely resembling breakfast was now being served.

After lunch, the captain called a meeting for first-class passengers in the lounge, which also served as the main dining room, video room, non-duty-free shopping room, a la carte cafeteria, smoking room, non-smoking room, bingo parlor, bar, and discotheque. I crowded in unnoticed while the captain and first mate made eloquent speeches about the voyage, explained safety procedures, and answered questions—in Spanish.

The captain then asked, in Spanish, if anybody needed to have anything explained in English. Naturally, the 40 or so passengers who couldn't understand Spanish failed to speak up. And this information was never conveyed to those who couldn't understand Spanish or to the people without first-class accommodations, leaving most passengers clueless in the event of an evacuation.

But that didn't mean the crew couldn't communicate with us. When there was a bingo game or a whale sighting, they also made announcements in English, French, and Portuguese. But by the time the captain had translated the whale sighting from Spanish into the other three languages and people straggled out to the decks, the whales were gone.