My Name Is Jasper

El Condor Pasa

Away, I'd rather sail away

Like a swan that's here and gone

A man gets tied up to the ground

He gives the world its saddest sound

El Condor Pasa (If I Could) – Paul Simon (164)

I fear death for I have seen hell.

I'm trapped on a cruise ship. My maiden voyage will lead up north from Vancouver to Alaska. The views of the mountainous coastline are magnificent, but are not to be enjoyed for long: the rays of the May sun are losing an uphill battle with the ocean winds and low hanging clouds. We're surrounded by the vast Pacific, taunting me with its horizon. The promise of ultimate freedom. I almost hear Poseidon's laugh booming up from the depths of the Great Ocean as he knows it will always stay out of our grasp.

The cold drives me from the deck back inside this floating mausoleum. I get sucked into a world of bells, rings, lights and a never ending buzz of people frantically playing slot machines or lining up for the 24-7 buffets. All set in a layout that would embarrass the tackiest casino in Las Vegas. Even if you find the occasional forgotten corner, music is playing from all sides. From one of the hidden speakers I hear The Eagles prophesize my fate.

"You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave" (165)

I feel very out of place in this demography of obese senior citizens and families who dragged their teenage kids with them against their will.

This is my first cruise, and I have a powerful feeling it will be my last. Don't get me wrong, I wanted to come on this trip. When Julie told me we were invited for a wedding of friends of her (166), that would take place on an Alaska cruise, it took me less than two seconds to enthusiastically confirm that I would be on board (167). I know I will have fun on this trip, I already had lots, thanks to the company and good times we'll have over a beer. Only right now I feel like putting a few bullets in my brain.

Julie and her girlfriends are enjoying some time in the whirlpool. They hope it will help them with their sea sickness that coincidentally was bothering them this morning after a first night of late-night partying.

My quest for a quiet spot finally ends 7 decks lower and many bars later. I nestle at the only place where it feels no jackpots are about to be won. The Red Frog pub is also one of the few place where you can't get any of the complementary food. That's probably why the Caribbean themed place is pretty much deserted.

From my table in the corner I can see the bride and groom to be, having a blast playing shuffleboard in the shadow of a fake palm tree. My hell is their heaven. I'm very happy for them.

Through the window at my table I look at the dark waves clashing against the hull of the ship. I haven't seen any see mammals yet, but my hopes are high. I expect a lot from this cruise, I hope Alaska will be as beautiful as I imagine it.

I try to block out the music that is playing way too loud, and clear my mind. Now bring me that horizon...

...

The next day the clouds and my initial feelings towards cruises have disappeared as the mountainous shoreline of Alaska takes my breath away. Fjords, glaciers, icebergs. All of it is even more beautiful than I ever imagined. And the best part: with the May sun out the deck is nice and warm, no need to spend a minute longer then absolutely necessary inside the plastic palace of bling-bling.

My gaze set to infinity, I almost lose myself in the wonders of nature all around me when a loud splash snaps me back to reality. 70 feet below me a humpback whale graciously jumps out of the water. I can hardly hold my excitement. The next few hours I scan the waterline as I see otters, dolphins and whales provide a spectacle I will not soon forget.