Crossing Lines: The Equator and International Date Line

"In June, the Samoan government passed a law to move Samoa west of the international date line, which separates one calendar day from the next and runs roughly north-to-south through the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Under a government decree, all those scheduled to work on the nonexistent Friday will be given full pay for the missed day of labor." -NBC News story dated 11/30/2011

Dear friends and family in the U.S.:  Yesterday our clocks were 2 to 5 hours behind yours (depending on what is your time zone), and we were to the west of you.  Today, our clocks are 15 to 18 hours ahead of yours, and we are to the east of you.  And yesterday was February 5 to us.  Today is February 7.  We kind of skipped February 6 (but only kind of—see below).

Time travel?  You could call it that.  We crossed the international date line.  This is an arbitrary line on the globe, assigned in the 1800s by the British, where the day is designated to begin.  It’s all very confusing, particularly as we moved back and forth between dates yesterday. 

Our clocks and calendars indicated that it was noon on Friday, February 5 when we arrived at the port of Apia in Samoa. But we were advised that when we went ashore it would be noon on Saturday, February 6, in Apia. And when we got back on the ship, it would be Friday the 5^th again.  However, when we went to bed last night (Friday) we were told to move our clocks back one hour, and that when we awoke it would be Sunday.  So we gained an hour but lost a day.  But did spend a few hours in the missing day while in Apia. Then we went back to sea and into a different day than in Apia, Samoa.  See the quote above for the reason.

Before crossing the dateline, we crossed another line:  the equator.  While, in that moment when we crossed the line we went from winter to summer, we saw no change in the weather.  It’s just hot.

But when a ship crosses the equator, a strange ceremony occurs to mark the occasion.  It involves “Kind Neptune” (in our case, the World Cruise Hostess, Stacie, dressed as Neptune) and the “Judge” (the cruise director, Rick, so garbed), passing sentence on the “pollywogs”—anyone aboard who has never crossed the equator before. 

On sailing vessels of old, pollywogs would be tormented some, then made to kiss a fish, then thrown overboard.  On cruise ships, the tormenting is minimal, the fish is still kissed, and they are thrown in the swimming pool (which at that point has been colored by various gross-looking fluids). 

For a variety of reasons, our ship skipped the torment and the pool-toss, keeping only the fish-kissing.  Beth and I were spared even that, as we had crossed the equator before (and thus were aware of the usual proceedings).  But they added some fun entertainment—dancing, singings, comedy, etc.  It was a lot of fun, and the crew seemed to have a great time acting goofy.

 Once all the lines were crossed, we celebrated with an Elvis-themed evening.  Because, well, why not?  The dinner menu was, shall we say, unique.  The crew was attired in the Elvis mode.  And the entertainment was, well, you can probably guess. 

Next blog:  Apia, Samoa (we’ve already been there—it was in the midst of the line-crossing, as you can see above.  But I’ll be giving it its own entry).