On not going into Montevideo

We're docked in Montevideo. For the first time since Barbados, we are not bombarded with "Ooo, watch out for the pickpockets and muggers, this is a dangerous place, do not venture forth from the ship in groups of less than ten including two heavily armed guards" warnings. We're docked in a semi-industrial area, but the downtown area is within sight, and it is apparently OK to walk around once one exits the ship.

So why am I telling you about it instead of setting off to have adventures? Not entirely sure. Probably a collection of small dissuaders. I slept badly last night and a nice nap in a deck chair sounds real good. Coming back from a Buenos Aires yarn shop yesterday (nothing special, unfortunately, about a dozen people from the "Sit and Stitch" group on board went to buy yarn which we all expected to be really good and really cheap, and it wasn't either), my right knee decided, as I was exiting the shuttle back to the ship, that it wasn't going to play any more. I tumbled to the pavement, doing no particular damage except to my dignity. (If the shuttle bus had stopped five feet further on, I would have landed in a rather oily puddle, so on the whole, I think it has to count as a win.) Still, this morning the knee feels tetchy. And it's almost lunch time.

On the other hand, when will I be in Montevideo again?

On the other other hand, it's almost lunch time. Maybe I should wait and see how I feel after lunch. And a nice nap. By which time it's nearly too late to go anywhere. (Yesterday, two couples were not back at the time set to raise the gangway. The PA announcer asked a couple times for them to call the front desk, and finally the Captain came on to reassure us that they had been found -- they had disembarked the shuttle at the wrong ship! I can totally see how one could do that -- the ships are so huge, all you know is that you're next to this enormous maritime entity whose actual name is written half a block away. No one from the ship's staff waiting on the pier would be so discourteous as to suggest they had never seen you before until you try to go through security on the MSC Opera with your ms Amsterdam room key. I suppose at that point some sort of confrontation would occur. But I saw the dining room steward ask someone who was improperly dressed to leave, and it was a masterpiece of diplomacy. I'm in an open parenthesis. I'd better get out while I still can.)