Christmas at sea. Two weeks of me claiming the best spot on the balcony. I’m in.
The Coral Princess, departing Fort Lauderdale, heading south through Mexico, Central America, and then the main event: the full Panama Canal crossing.
Nicholas picked this one specifically for the canal. He’s convinced it might close someday, or at least become inaccessible to cruise ships, and he wanted to do the full transit while he still could. Pokin was on board (literally) because the engineering of the thing fascinates her. Naturally, I was coming too.
The first few days were sea days, which suited us fine. Nicholas colonized the balcony with his laptop immediately. I supervised.
We docked somewhere in Mexico and Pokin found a spot to relax with me while Nicholas went exploring. Some things never change.
Meanwhile, back on the ship, a gingerbread house competition had been organized. The family got very into it.
I did not participate. My paws aren’t built for frosting work. But I did judge silently from afar. Solid effort. Could use more chocolate.
Then came Christmas, which on a cruise means one thing: formal night.
Nicholas made me a suit. A proper grey pinstriped blazer. Custom fitted for a 186-gram bear. I looked incredible.
Not a bad start. Mexico was fine. The balcony office was productive. The suit was a hit.
But the real reason we’re here hasn’t happened yet. Next stop: Costa Rica, and then south toward the canal.