The Good Life
In the morning of our cruise we had a very private transfer to the port. After an hour of standing around in several queues we made it to the ship – to join more queues. Chatting with our new friends I spotted that the guy in front of me held a Hungarian passport in his hands. In a Costa Rican port? No way! I found out he was staff just joining the boat. As my father would say Hungarians are everywhere. And he is right.
I thought the embarkation went pretty smooth. We were like tame sheep herded back to their night shelter, most of us obeying sheepishly while others tried to play the shepherd in a sheep skin.
The ship sat majestically in the port. The interior was elegant with a contemporary touch. No tackiness in sight. Staff are genuinely polite and pleasant. Great floating hotel indeed.
Standing in the queue I looked around. Well preserved people in their late sixties-seventies, or even eighties-nineties, tanned and moneyed. This is the silver generation who have been ambitious, dynamic, learnt pushy to survive after or through WWII. They have grabbed the unprecedented opportunities fuelled by prosperity and economic growth along their lives of which you cannot blame them. But they have reaped all the benefits, grown fat on it and sold out all their values of their youth to the corrupt politicians and thrown the world economy into the crunch of the multinationals. It sounds harsh but that is how I felt there under the shade of the marque, watered, cold towelled, driven around, luggage taken care of, lots of fuss around us to make sure that the service we receive couldn’t be faulted. I felt ashamed to be one of them.
However each of these people we met were extremely pleasant and grounded, great characters with fascinating life stories. They were proud what they achieved and worked hard for it. Not realising their contribution to the irreversible damage that has been done they would plead innocent. I wonder how history will reflect on that.