San Blas -- Such tiny islands in a big ocean. That day the ocean was rough so we chose not to take the estimated 30-minute topsy-turvy totally tipsy tender ride there (and back).
My heart had been looking forward to buying at least one of the hand-sewn molas that the women on the islander take such pride in creating. Oh well, I thought. . .
Instead I spent most of the day on the promenade deck and letting the islanders come to me! Despite the rough seas, at least six boatfuls ventured close to the Amsterdam. One of them. A slender, dubious-looking craft, caught and held my eye. It held a family of four in what looked like a real dugout canoe. I watched them on and off for hours: the Mom a true amazon! She paddled furiously, bucking the waves while managing all the while to stay relatively close to our anchored ship. She (with some meager help from her husband or older son) would repeatedly paddle from bow to stern. Back and forth, back and forth. The two little boys were assigned to bailing -- the whitecaps keeping them quite busy and wet.
In the past passengers would throw coins or apples toward the children, but we were warned not to throw anything.
I was wondering why the family stayed so long. But the cruise director told us that evening how the family managed to get close to the tender platform. I think he said they were invited aboard; I know he said the children were given candy bars and that the happiness and awe in their big eyes were unforgettable.
Unforgettable to me is how much a mother--no matter how poor--will do to enrich her children's lives. That mother's determination and endurance--and yes, her cheekiness--is the memory I will take away from San Blas.
Plus, I did get to buy a mola--in fact two. The islanders delivered a bundle of them to the ship and they went on sale the next morning. I was assured that every penny would go back to the island.
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