There is a rhythm to the universe, even if it doesn't seem to be in tandem with our own.  Often, it is far better than we could ever have imagined.

For years, I'd been trying to take my husband to South America for his birthday.  What started as a flurry of planning a year in advance of his 60th, added up to nothing by Jan. 10th.  One thing after another, kept us from going—for years.  And then, by the time we were within days of his 63rd birthday, a miracle happened.  On New Year's Eve, I got a whim to try ONE MORE TIME.  Suddenly, like pieces to a puzzle, everything snapped into place.  By Jan. 2nd, we were en route to Santiago, Chile and a 16 day cruise aboard  Silver Sea's Silver Cloud.  I can only think that there is a strange perfection to the universe, and that maybe, just maybe we're not meant to plan out every moment of our lives in advance.  Maybe the message is that we have to live in the moment and embrace whatever it brings our way.   It's not always that easy, is it?  But, this time, it was an incredible gift.

Jan. 7th:  Puerto Montt, one of our first ports of call, is located about 42 degrees south by Reloncavi Sound and is the capital of Llanquihue Province and the Los Lagos Region. It is a German settlement and looks as if immigrants built it to remind them of the old country whenever possible.  German gingerbread buildings, pastries and wurst, are everywhere we look.  The German language sprinkled with Spanish permeates the streets of the city and is embedded in the hearts and DNA of the townsfolk.  

This is the older part of the city that reminds us of  when the government took less and the citizens got to keep more .  Today's Chilean homes are small, brightly colored boxes that appear as if they'd been stamped by a giant cookie-cutter factory.  Many of the people in Chile are poor, and yet not.  Most of them, except those living in the ghettos of the larger cities, have something that passes for a house.  Oh, it may resemble a playhouse compared to homes in developed nations.  It provides, though, a place to lie down, to cook dinner, and shelter from the rain in an area that receives it more than 325 days per year.    It isn't much, and yet it is everything.  
 
At five p.m., we are sitting on the veranda of our suite  (on the starboard side of the ship) gazing at mariner blue, school bus yellow and angry-orange fishing boats in the harbor.  Seagulls hover over them, hoping for handouts, while a small motor boat whizzes by, filled only with ten-year-old boys.  On the hill in front of us is a mammoth white cross made of steel trusses and anchored into place by Goliath guide wires.  We have seen giant hillside crosses in every city in Chile so far. 

The weather has been damp and gloomy all day.  Shivering,  I go inside to grab a jacket.  It is sixty degrees outside with sixty percent humidity.  In the distance are mountains flanked at the bottom by beached fishing boats and at the top by billowy clouds.  In the suite next door, a young Russian couple cranks up the Rap Techno music (is that a real category?) while the ship's engines begin to surge and we depart for Puerto Chaccobuco.

Finally, the sun comes out and reflects off the water, turning it into a sea of silver.  The white clouds remain in the distance, and I'm wondering whether this moment, repeated at some point in the past, is how the ship got its name?  Silver below.  Billowy clouds above.  Silver Cloud.