25
years of service
That’s what this trip should be called, “25 years of
service;” being married to me. My wife should get some kick back for toughing
it out with me. If you know the two of
us, you agree that I got the better end of the bargain. So since she has stayed
with me this long she should get a medal or better yet a nice trip since she is
the “Travel Queen.” I knew this was one of those times “up to bat” that I had
to do better than just okay, I had to hit that sucker out of the park. So how
can I go wrong with the Mediterranean?
The portal to Venice Italy is Wendover Nevada; well actually
it starts in Magna Utah, marked by the famous smoke stack of the Kennecott
Copper Mine. I’ll explain: before flying to the international city for lovers,
we drove from Cottonwood Heights Utah with our two youngest daughters to San
Francisco Ca. to stay with their two uncles. Later their older sister will fly
to San Fran to join them, while mom and dad enjoy the mediterranean.
This will be my second time to Venice; I went once when I
was a young teen with my parents and older brother. From Venice we cruise down the Adriatic to Dubrovnik
Croatia, then to the Greek island of Corfu, all along the Italian cost,
stopping at all the big spots in Italy, Marseilles France, ending on the
Spanish island of Palma de Mallorca.
Reno
Driving through the post apocalyptic looking desert of
Wendover and Reno I think this is such an appropriate way to start such a
romantic journey, through the butthole of a town named Reno. Actually though, I
have come to have a little appreciation for Reno because it is blessed with the
mighty Truckee River running right through it. I blow the Truckee a few kisses
to show her my love; my wife thinks me mad.
San
Fran
It is great to finally arrive in the city of Golden Gate, to
see the Uncles and to go on my customary walk up the trail that leads up the
lush hills behind their house. We have a
day or so before our flight so we spend most of it at Muir Beach.
Gene and the girls drop us off at the airport, and I so want
to grab Madeline and Jac and kiss them and hug them hard like I used to be able
to when they were kids. I don’t want to just say, Goodbye girls, I love you be
good.” I want to show them how much I love them and how much I will miss them.
I see in their faces that they will miss their mother; they hug and kiss her
goodbye. Every parent says this, but
they never realize that the day comes when their kids officially become big,
and no longer need them like they used to. I miss them and we haven’t even left
the airport.
Paris
We have a layover in Paris; Melis finds that the bums, the
dirt, the B.O wafting off so many people, and the men picking their noses, not
really conducive to the romantic reputation linked to the city.
Venice
We arrive in Venice, the city for lover, the capital for
romance. Here a person can’t help but being swept up by the city and the allure
of it all. For God’s sake, it sits on the ocean; its streets are filled with boats,
gondolas. When we go up to our room I can’t stop looking out the window because
I keep thinking “wow we are finally here, our first real stop in Europe
together. This is a great city to start in. The walks and city walls are cobble
stone, marble and fresco, this whole place is about romance. The streets bustle
with people from all over the world. Most of them are just like Melis and I,
from somewhere in the world trying to get a slice of Italian heaven. But it
also has some Italians here as well. It’s the locals that help keep the pace. You have plenty of time to take it all in. No
one in this city is in a hurry—no one. There is no such thing as going to lunch
or dinner to get a quick bite. When you ask the waiter for the bill, he has to
think about it for about 10 to 15 minutes, then he has to tell the other
waiter, Luigi, who then has to think about it himself, so maybe a half an hour
later they bring you the bill. But we didn’t care; we didn’t come here to go to
McDonalds.
We walk the streets sort of meandering our way to San Marco.
We just keep pointing ourselves in the direction the arrows say, although
sometimes the arrows point two directions—perhaps a local joke. You can’t get lost in Venice, but if you do, it’s
not for long. I am trying to take it all in, be in the moment. Venice is one of
those cities that you are so happy to get a chance to see, give it two days,
and you’re ready to move on to something else.
Dubrovnik
Croatia
“Eastern Block” say that out loud with a Russian accent.
This is one of those old world towns that you have always wanted to see your
whole life... The entire town is constructed out of cobble stone; it looks like
it has been this way for hundreds of years, and will last thousands more.
Cobble stone is not these small rocks, it’s about a foot or two wide and a
couple foot long. The stuff seems like it will last forever, and in the town
square, this timeless stone is worn smooth.
We thought we were getting on a shuttle, but, it was one of
those damn tour busses. We got sucker punched, but it was 15 Euros each,
nothing worth going to war with a Slav over.
Those tour busses kind of suck though; the driver is some guy with a
name like Olaf who just looks forward to the next stop so he can have a smoke
break. On the bright side it only took a little while, and it did give us an overall
view of the town.
When we stopped we went through the town square, through the
docks to the beach. Their beaches are rocky along with huge boulders, and
virtually no sand. I wanted Melis to swim in the Adriatic Sea, which she sort
of did, but she was more interested I watching the teens play soccer to their
jams, and smoke weed. Apparently teens of all nations like to get stoned—odd.
The people in Dubrovnik were all very nice, and easy to talk
to. It’s interesting though how you can see cultural differences from the
people of Croatia and the Italians in Venice. Fundamentally people are so much
alike no matter where you are, but at the same time so distinctly different.
The Croatians were more direct while the Italians had a relaxed take it easy
demeanor.
Kotor
Montenegro
I can’t begin to say how disappointed I was that the cruise
company decided to cancel Greece and selected a place called Kotor Montenegro
instead. No, I have never heard of Montenegro, and honestly I don’t think a lot
of people have. To me it sounds like a country in Africa, not Eastern Block
near Croatia. The information available said it was formerly part of
Yugoslavia, up until about 5 years ago, and then declared its
independence. Its history dates back
actually thousands of years before the Romans, and has been invaded many times
over the years, and has been ruled by over a dozen empires.
So before we even get there I’m thinking “ok maybe this
place could be cool, it’s been controlled by the Romans, the Turks, Ottomans,
even the Nazi’s. Those rulers all added to constructing a fortress and a tower,
referred to as Saint John’s Fortress switch backing its way up the mountain
side. Additionally some of the guys that work on the ship said they have been
both to the Greek island of Corfu and to Kotor, and that Kotor rocks.
When the ship pulled into the port, Kotor looked a lot like Dubrovnik,
with one major exception, huge mountain peaks, rising right from sea level, and
towering straight up—I’m guessing around 2 to 4 thousand feet up. They looked a
lot like the mountains on the Wasatch Front, same color and type of vegetation.
We got mobbed by the taxi drivers, and they almost got me I
have to admit, but we got sucker punch by transportation people in Dubrovnik,
this time we were going to at least walk into the city and get our Barings. As you enter the city, just like Dubrovnik,
you go right back to the middle ages—cobble stone and stucco. All the roof are also bar tile, and the
churches have their own distinct look, influenced by the Turkish Ottoman look,
and also you could see a Venetian flair, but overall it had the old world
“Eastern Block” style. Compared to Italy
it was like a 10th of the cost, and was less commercial then Dubrovnik.
We decided to hike up to St. John’s Fortress, which looked
as if it was about 1500 feet or so up, with a lot of switch backs. I wasn’t sure how high Melis would want to
go, and if we got half way up and came back, I would be fine with that. I
really can’t describe how timeless and solid the stones of the steps looked.
They were smooth from all the countless feet sliding over them. Okay here I go
getting nostalgic, but I really could imagine all the soldiers throughout all
the different empires shuffling up and down them. It wasn’t hard; you could see
draw bridges, turrets and sheer walls that would make it almost impossible for
the enemy to scale—well not quite impossible. Most people turned around, Melis
kept on. We were sweating buckets, but I brought a lot of water in my back
pack. Water is a huge issue in all of Europe. You don’t just go to a restaurant
and have water served, you have to order it, and going into a restaurant is always
an ordeal. This place is mind-blowing,
one of those hidden jewels that you can never expect, which made it all the
better. From the top of the fortress we had an amazing view of the city as well
as the mountains that invaders scaled from inland. We finished the day off with
a nice lunch in the town square. We met some cool people who were also on our
ship from South Africa. Greece will have to wait, but no broken hearts here,
only sweaty beating ones.
The next day I slept until noon; it was a day at sea so I
figured why get up. Melis actually had to drag me out of bed—that just never
happens. We are exiting the Adriadic and entering the Mediterranean. So, I
figure why the hell should I get up? The sea is a lot choppier here, maybe it’s
because we are not in a cove, but really out in a big ocean--I’m just spit
balling here, because I really don’t know if we have rounded the boot of Italy
yet or not. Tomorrow we are going to be in Naples, and Melis is ready to hike
Mount Vesuvius. I know when push comes to shove, she can hike, I’ve seen her do
it plenty of times; but she’s going Billy Goat on me.
Naples
Naples is the first city that Clay has decided to get off
the ship and venture on land. Let me explain who Clay is. Borne is his last
name, I met him about 2 years ago; he was with my brother-in-law, Lee. The two
of them seemed to be a good “fit” and they appeared to be comfortable with each
other. But Lee went back to San Fran and without a word left Clay behind. Melis
and I couldn’t figure it out. Clay is very handsome, and always popular at
parties. We decided that it wouldn’t be a big deal if he stayed with us, the
girls wouldn’t mind, he could just stay in the basement.
Since that time, we have been to a lot of places with him,
he even went to one of Melissa’s aunts funerals with us—it was out in the
Basin. I should tell you though that he does have, well two sides to him it’s
really like he has a twin. We decided to take him to Europe with us, and he
didn’t leave the ship until we got to Naples.
We were shocked at how big Naples is. In fact of all the
cities, it has been the largest one we have been to yet. It looks like a lot of
other cities in the world, except all the domes. American tends to build their big cities up
with tall commercial buildings. Italians like to spread their cities out, and
put classic domes on the top of their public buildings; they love the classic
dome. We didn’t spend much time in the city;
Melis was really looking forward to going to mount “V” and to see the ruins at Pompeii.
In Italy they say stop signs are an opinion, and I think
traffic lights are too. The drivers are crazy, but you have to give it to the
bus drivers. Driving up to Mount Vesuvius the road is so narrow the driver
would honk before going around each corner, and when he did, he would literally
take up the whole road. Our guide that day was great, she was a nice little gal
from Austria, and her native language was German. She spoke to the locals in
Italian, and I may add she even added the lilt the Italians do to the end of
each sentence, and then she spoke English to us.
After hiking up St. John’s in Montenegro, hiking up Mt
Vesuvius was a piece of cake. First off the bus takes you at least ¾ of the way
up, the trail is wide, and they serve wine and sparkling water half way up, and
again at the top.
The history of this famed volcano is completely fascinating,
and so is the view you get of Naples and Pompeii from the top. Hiking to Mt. V
is more of a historical or geological fascination, than anything else. The people
who live on the mountain now, are encouraged to move, in fact the government
will actually pay them to move, but if you have lived on an active volcano all
your life, what the hell.
From there it was on to famed area that was destroyed by the
Volcano—Pompeii. Our guide in Pompeii was so worth it. She pointed out some
fascinating details that even an educated foreigner would not know about. She
showed us how they cooked, prayed, bathed and how they went potty. People around
the world seem to be fascinated with poop and public baths. She also talked
about the sexual habits of the ancient people of Pompeii. I get the sex
fascination I guess even the public baths things, but I didn’t realize how much
people from all around the world like to hear about the poop and how it makes
its way down the sewers.
Getting off the toilet topic another fascinating detail she
pointed out was the ruts worn into the stone by the chariot wheels, and where
they would so to speak “park their cars.”
To wear ruts in the stone they used for streets is beyond understanding.
That tour was only half a day. We learned that doing a half day tour is really
the best thing for us. We were worried in certain cities that without the tour
we would not get to see the key attractions. As it turns out we need to give
ourselves more credit, we kick ass.
Back in Naples we visited a castle--incredible. But then
again how can a castle not be incredible? Probably because we don’t have them
in Utah; clearly castles were not a priority to the pioneers. Equally amazing
is getting across any street without getting wacked. The locals just go across the street and somehow
they don’t get smashed. We would sort of “jump in their stream” so to speak and
walk with them like baby ducks with their momma.
When we got back to the ship we ran into our new South African
friends, who could not believe the hiked again, a second day. They looked at us
like we were some kind of freaks. At the café in Kotor they thought we were
nuts for hiking to St. John’s fortress. I think they feel the same way about
hiking up Mount Vesuvius.
Rome
On to Rome the city we both have grand plans & starry
eyes for. For God’s sake it’s Rome the heart of the Catholic world and at the
same time home of the greatest city of the ancient Roman Empire—we both have a
lot of things we want to see. There are things in Rome I did not see when I was
a teen, and I also have such distinct memories of how I felt when we came into
town. A boy from any small town in
America sees things build out of practicality and build from wood and brick.
Rome is Marble, Domes, St. Peters, Coliseum, Caesar, antiquity.
Melis and I could not figure it out but Clay did not want to
take one step off the ship, even into Rome. We decided to go somewhere in the
middle ground in terms of tours, and we
picked one called “A taste of Rome,” half a day with a guide, half a day on
your own. We actually had two guides one named Erica, and I can’t remember the
second one’s name. It’s probably because she told us to call her Mommy, and
that we were her familia. We both decided that Italians have wonderful mommies.
Mommy was very catholic, and showed a real passion for her
faith, as well as pride and love of her Italian history and city. Before we would
embark on a church or basilica or significant work of art, mommy would bring
her children in close to her proverbial bosom, and enlighten us of the
importance of what we were about to see.
As she strolled through the streets in her eloquent Italian style,
she kept repeating “Alora, alora” in motherly way. I know it wasn’t just Melis
and I that loved mommy. Okay it was probably just me; I think Melis thought she
was just doing her job. I asked an Italian later what “Alora” meant, she said
it means something like “let’s go” or maybe even “move your asses.” I’m fine
with that it’s all in presentation.
We went to Peter in Chains; the chains signify his martyrdom
and his willingness to be crucified upside down. He requested to be crucified
upside down because he was not worthy to be crucified in the same way our lord
was. I actually knew that little factoid prior to going to Italy. Michelangelo’s
Moses is housed in Peter in Chains cathedral. It is so mighty and powerful
looking.
From there we entered St. Peters Basilica. Again this was my
second time, but I don’t care how many times you visit St. Peter’s there is
nothing you can do to prepare yourself for what you are about to see. If you
are not Catholic, or even religious, you are still going to be knocked out. You
can’t describe it in all its grandeur. Its size is one factor, its splendor,
and the fact that all the art is not paintings, but mosaics. You have to look
very close to see the miniscule pieces of tile to realize they are not
paintings. When you think of that kind of attention to even one piece let alone
an entire cathedral, it is an amazing human feat.
If you are in fact Catholic, it holds a great deal of relivance
because it holds the bones of the first Pope. The entire cathedral is centered on
his tomb. It’s sort of unreal to think about all you have heard and read and
been exposed to about the life of Jesus and his disciples. You read in the New
Testament about the keys to the Church and the establishment of the new
covenant, and here it all is—you are standing right at the spot that signifies
that establishment.
Before I get ahead of myself, I have to go back a bit, to
some Roman history. On the way we descended the steps to view the Coliseum.
That building also held some spiritual relevance for me as well. When you look
at the entrance, you play the movie scenes in your head of the huge Roman
crowds packing in to see battles to the death. It’s hard to believe that people
really did that. I don’t deny that they did, or that people loved watching it, it’s
just hard to believe. Could Gladiators really face their possible death like
that over and over, and equally deliver death over and over? Stupid question
right. Mommy pointed out that the holes in the sides were from previous Romans
picking out the various metals out of the structure to recycle it. Long ago it
was just an old building that held little to no significance to the people of
the time.
One last Roman thing we saw, but only briefly was the place
where Caesar was done in by his homies. I wish we could have spent more time
here, because it has such relevance to our world. It may sound like I am going into my drama
mode, but the life and death of Caesar was a big deal. I think of reading Shakespeare’s
play and all the issues it brings up of democracy, betrayal and dictatorship.
There are also a lot of little trivial issues associated with him: he had epilepsy
and went into fits, now called seizures, he was cut out of his mother’s belly,
now called Caesarian Section. He even affects our diet, with a salad named
after him a little pizza chain.
There were many things on my list to see in Rome, but most
of all the Raphael Rooms and the Sistine Chapel. Much of the famous paintings
of the Renaissance are housed in the Raphael Rooms; and when we were here when
I was a teen, the Sistine Chapel was closed for cleaning. If I haven’t
mentioned it up to this point Melis has been amazing. I’m not just saying this
because this whole trip is about her, and our 25th; it because she
has been up to every challenge, hiking, crowds, you name it. But what she’s
about to do, blows the doors off all everything. Before we left mommy, we asked
her and Erica if they thought we would get into the Sistine Chapel and Raphael Rooms.
They commented that the lines looked pretty big, and that we may want to think
of other things to do. I was skillful and subtle in my “oh gosh, of all the
things I wanted to see here in Europe, that was it.” I just hoped Melis would
be up to waiting in line all day to get in.
She had no intention of waiting in line; instead she kicked
into this beautiful gear, and cut through all the tour groups. We went past
about 10 blocks of people in tour groups waiting in line and ended up at the
front of the line—“boom baby who’s you Mommy now!” The Italian tour guide was
calling herself “Mommy” but the real mommy was standing tall with me at the entrance
to the Sistine Chapel.
The Museum and Sistine Chapel was as crowded as any place
you could be; it was wall to wall people pretty much throughout the whole
thing. There were spots here and there that didn’t have as much of a crowd, but
you get the idea. Still with all that, the whole experience was again
spiritual. I won’t waste your time trying to tell you of the beauty; except
that that it didn’t look the way I pictured it. The famous part, where God is
touching the hand of Adam is sort of depicted like the center of a dome, and
sort of the center piece. It’s not in a dome, but a domed hallway, and it’s
just one piece of a much larger ceiling. So many famous paintings in one
museum—all the Ninja Turtles work and more.
Little traveler’s side note: having a guide can be great,
because they can show and tell things you probably don’t know, and you just
have to sit back and enjoy the ride. However once we did great on our own, in
fact I think better that with a guide service. Even in foreign lands we did
better that I thought we would, we were kind of Ninja Turtles ourselves—well
for sure Melis was. We sliced and diced through the city, going at your own
pace.
Florence
Florence--our last stop in Italy. We decided not to go to Pisa
which is close to Florence, but to instead travel through Tuscany and focus on Florence.
Big on my list is to see The David—I just have to lay my eyes on that stud.
Melis & the South Africans all decided I have a nice dose of gay in me
because of my desire to behold the Marble masterpiece. In case you don’t know
there are parts on his body that are oversized for his 18 foot body: exactly
what you were thinking--his hands and his feet! Michelangelo oversized them
knowing it would make him appear more powerful.
On our list was also the Duomo; so this day we booked our
biggest tour package of all. We have heard rumor that if you don’t book a tour
you probably won’t get to see the David. This tour guide did not rate so high,
in fact a lot of people with us were not happy with her at all—Melis included.
I will agree that she lacked the passion and love of Mommy, and she did not
give near as much good information as our Pompeii guide. We were clearly not
her “Familia” or if we were, we were the red headed step child.
Florence is one of those cities that I would love to spend a
week at. It has classic Italian charm, and there is more to see there that you
can possible see in 7 days let alone 1 day. We visited Santa Croce, the church
where Michelangelo, Galileo, Marconi, Machiavelli to name just a few are
entombed. I’m not sure why, but it was really humbling and sobering experience
seeing that. I think people want a tombstone so they can feel like they will
sort of leave a mark on the world, so people can visit their gravesite, and see
their name and a few facts about them. But a tomb, who really needs one? Well
people like Michelangelo do, it was amazing seeing the tombs of these huge
historical figures.
Florence holds so much history; you realize how important it
is even beyond art, beyond literature, science, technology…. It was a city of
international wealth and commerce. It was all about the Medici family, who
apparently brought so much money to their city that they had their own coin or
currency if you will... The local citizens reportedly said the family gave back
to the city in the form or art and buildings and to the common man as well.
Perhaps they realized that the flow of money would create a thriving economy.
Wow that doesn’t sound like any other wealthy family.
We had a traditional Florence lunch of Lasagna, string beans
and wine. We sat with a couple from New York who were just a little too much
like us--it was scary. Again it makes me say one thing I have learned from this
trip, which is how everyone around the world is the same. We met people from around the globe on this
trip. Their clothes, language, customs, culture differs a bit, but they all act
so similar.
Marseilles
Clay dug his heels in again and refused to get off the ship
at France. Today is Melissa’s birthday so my plan is to buy something French
for her. I made plans with our South African friends to sort of hang with them for
the day. I call them “Friends” Melis thinks I’m crazy, “We’ll see them the rest
of the week, then never again the rest of our lives, they are just people we
met on the ship.” I thought it would be fun to pal with our new friends in
France.
I really enjoyed talking with them about their home, and
their political situation and their government. I was really curious to hear
about how they see the issues with the black and whites, Nelson Mandela, apartheid
and all that. It was bizarre how much
they reminded me of Americans, and how their lives sound so much like ours; again
makes sense they too are a British colony. The more we talked to them, the more
you could see that the black and white issue is not so black and white.
We walked through the fishing docks, and Melis really loved
seeing the entire fisherman display their daily catch. It’s nice to see areas
like that, which are not so “touristy” if you will. They had some fish out on
display that I have never seen before, some of them alive. They also had some
eels and sword fish.
From the port you can see the Cathedral of Notre Dame up on
the hill, all of us including the Africans wanted to see it. I was really the
one thing on our list that we wanted to see. The issue was how to get there.
Melis suggested we walk—after hiking up to St. John’s Fortress in Montenegro,
and Mount V in Italy, this would be no problem for her. Cindy did not seem too
thrilled to walk, but agreed. Half way there, we reached a fairly steep street
she stopped in her tracks, “Greg I am not taking another step,” try to say that
in a South African accent which is a mix between British and native Africans.
“We should have taken the trolley with A-con.” We figured A-con is air
conditioning. Greg gave her the “don’t embarrass us in front of the super hiker
Americans. She plugged on and was rewarded greatly with a stunning view from a
top the cathedral.
In all of Christendom there are no churches more ornate and
more spectulacuar than the Catholic ones. I can’t imagine any of the Catholic
cathedrals being more stunning than St. Peters in Rome. Of course everyone has
their own taste, and ideal of beauty or what strikes your fancy, but come on
can you really top St. Peters? The
cathedral of Notre Dame is right on its heels. You really can’t compare things
of this nature. You can’t compare the Pieta to The David or the Sistine Chapel
to the Duomo. But when you take in the exterior of Notre Dame, with the gold
blessed mother on top, and the scale of it, and the placement; then you go
inside and see how every detail is almost unimaginable, you just can’t rate
things like that.
The view overlooked the whole beautiful city. Its style was
similar to the Italian cities, but yet different in the details. The lines of
the architecture were more clean and straight lines. All the European cities
had their own distinct style, but there were some obvious similarities. They
all build into the land. They follow more of a Frank Lloyd Wright design of
making their buildings fit into the landscape. We carve into the land and place
really pay little attention to how the building fits into the surroundings.
Also European cities were born when thick stone and block was what was
available. We build things to last under 100 years. The building, the court
yards, streets all look like they have been there for literally thousands of
years, and that they will last thousands more. European cities feel eternal.
We took yet another bus, one of those delightful city tour
busses. It was 18 Euros per person which is ridicules. Our plan is to stop at a
beach, and get lunch. The driver stops at the pier, tells everyone to get out
its time for his break, which lasted an hour and a half. I’m telling you the
Europeans know how to do the work thing. The thing is they work and they get
things done, they just don’t act crazy about it the way we do. We had a little
lunch there; it was nice to chill out. But no more getting on the damn tour
bus. Walking a city is the best way to feel a city.
We all felt like it was time to go back, due to time, no one
wanted to push it, so we did not get to go to the beach. Back at the ship New
Yorker Pete said we really missed out because it was a nudist beach. He kept
going on about all the young hotties, in front of his wife. He looked to be
about 50 years old, so I was shocked that he hadn’t learned to shut up about
hotties—whatever.
American’s always talk about how rude the French are, and
about how much they hate us. I can’t really say one way or another. We did not
get enough of a chance to interact with then to make a call. The few people I
did talk to were nice enough. I did ask a local a question and he looked at me
like was speaking Greek. He didn’t try to work it out with me; he just said
something in French and walked off. I translated it as: “Piss off American, I
am French and we don’t speak English, and if we do, by some freak chance, we won’t
speak it with an American.” But I only studied French a little bit in 7th
grade in Orem Utah, and they didn’t cover words like “Piss off American” and so
forth.
On a historical note, or rather on a literature history
note, we also saw the island made famous by Alexander Dumas’ book “The Count of
Monte Cristo” the island where the main character was imprisoned. I always loved that book, and he was a
Frenchman.
I would love to visit this city again. I think Melis really
liked it as well. I know she liked it more than she did the air port in Paris.
The smell of B.O wafting off all the people, all the men picking their noses,
and the bums lying all over the place didn’t do much for her—wonder why. I’m sure she’ll get over that and want to
visit Paris for at least a few days sometime in the future. Chances are though
we will never get the chance to return to Marseilles and that’s fine.
Open
Sea
The reality of the end of the trip is sort of peeking around
the corner, and telling me the party is almost over, “last call.” We still have
one day of cruising at sea, to get to Spain, the island of Palma de Mallorca
our final destination. I hear it’s a pretty good sized island off the coast of
Madrid. We also have another day and a half in Spain before we have to catch
our flight back. So, I need to be in the moment, and “Suck it all in,” as my
dad would say.
The roughest day at sea by far was our last one. I woke up
early in the morning, well before dawn and the ship was creaking and groaning.
You could feel the motion on the ocean, the bathroom door was left open and it
was swinging. Thank God I put my sea sick patch on. I put one on before our
flight out, and kept on one through the whole trip. I really don’t know if I
would get sea sick or not, I didn’t give myself a chance to find out. We met a
couple from Philly so I called him Philly. He and his wife was without any
medication. I told her I would share, but she thought she would be fine—this
was the day before rough seas. I looked for her to no avail the next day. After
about noon, the waves had calmed down a lot so all was well.
We hung out at the pool all day looking at the fat, white
Brits lathered in sun tan lotion. They can lie out in the sun all damn day. I
think they jump on any chance they get to soak in any sun they can. I of course
turned lobster red. I just need to stay out of the sun, or put sun screen on.
It turned out fine; it was just a little sore the next day—nothing major.
We really enjoyed our “Last Supper” ha ha. Melis really
enjoyed the kids—they were a young couple we sat with at dinner each night.
They were on their honeymoon. Each night at dinner, you have a sort of reserved
time to eat, and you’re seated with the same couple. Kyle and Kelly were the
two people we were seated next to. It was obvious that neither one of us was
all that excited to be seated with anyone, nothing personal; you just don’t
want to share your company with strangers. By the second night we had sort of
gotten to know each other. By the end of the trip Melis would say “oh I wonder
what the kids saw today.” Or “I wonder if the kids had fun…where they are.” It’s
funny how much people will tell you about their lives once they feel a little comfortable.
You know you will never see each other again, and so what does it really matter
anyhow.
As we were getting ready to get off the ship for the last
time, I was talking to Jeremy our room attendant, he said that about two hours
after all the people were off, a new group would be getting on about a few
hours later, then they would sail about 5 hours after that. He said he has a
family at home, two kids, but that he is away from them 7 months out of the
year. Another guy on the ship said working on a ship turns you into a fish, you
eventually can’t survive on land—wow what a life, like living in a strange
bubble.
The voyage has been amazing really from start to finish, but
I am also excited to get home. I miss the girls. We miss their faces. I think
about them and I know they are probably really missing their mommy. They are
used to me being gone either on a job or a fishing trip; they can totally deal without
me. But they are used to the constant stream of love that flows from their
mommy. I miss they way they joke, and their rude, crude cutting sense of humor.
Each one of them has it; it just varies with each one, and has its own spin. I
wish I could grab them like when they were little, but they’re not really into
that any more. Well Hannah is sort of getting back to being affectionate.
The time with just Melis and I has been great. It has given
us a chance to really connect—come on after all we have been in some of the
world’s most romantic cities. The cruise ship is actually quite romantic as
well. It’s nice to go for walks at night on deck.
Palma de
Mallorca
The city was a hell of a lot bigger than we thought it would
be, and a lot more like our big cities. It was still very European, but it also
had a lot of modern architecture. It looked like it had its roots in the
ancient world, but was also moving with time, and has grown in the last 100
years or so.
Our hotel was sweet—right on the beach. You walked out from
the lounge, past the pool, and hit sand and ocean. The best part was that it
was a beach that accommodated her needs, soft white sand, slow gradual tide and
waves, and warm water. The hotel its self was really modern and chic, we both
really loved it. It was really the perfect way to end the vacation.
Don’t ask me why but we decided to ride the city bus—not a
tour but just the city bus. We wanted to see one more holy place; you know one
more cathedral, as if we haven’t seen enough. We stayed on the bus way too long
and basically saw the whole city; which was a good thing really. We talked to
this nice old couple who told us which exit to take.
The cathedral was beautiful, but we were both done with
museums and churches. You can only take in so many of those things then you are
just done. There is a point where I
think you have to let your mind digest all that it has taken in, and just veg.
Now that we have been to each country and city, I can’t say
which one was my favorite. It’s more like, I loved this thing or that about
this country. I can say I loved the Italian people the most. I loved the way
they dresses, they way they talked with such a sense of humor, even the way
they carried themselves. I realize you have to spend a significant amount of
time with people before you can really say anything about them, but everyone
from guides to waiters to random people on the street responded to us in a very
polite friendly way.
The city that was the biggest surprise was Kotor. It’s been
independent from Yugoslavia for only about 5 years, and most people don’t think
about Eastern Bloc countries as a main area to visit. Everyone talks about
Italy, because it’s so rich in history and art. But Kotor was so beautiful and
different than the more “popular” places we visited. I would love to spend more
time there.
I really want to take the girls to Rome and Florence, and
spend at least a few weeks there. There is so much from history to art, not to
mention just the beautiful landscape and weather. I would really like to be
there when it’s not so hot, and there are less people. I’m sure Rome is always
full of people, but summer is its peak season, and take away some of the people
and you would get a chance to slow down a bit and soak it the treasures more.
The city I don’t need to go back to is Venice. Yes I had the
balls to say I don’t need to go back to Venice. I will give anyone that it is a
very romantic city. It is a city that evokes wonder and mystery in your mind;
just the fact that the streets are rivers, well actually the ocean in-between
the buildings is sort of unbelievable. It has so much history and it is quaint
and lovely. With all that said, I think a couple days there is enough. For me
it is one of those places that you only need a few days there, and you’re good.
Flying
back home
The flight was fine, but even if it goes well, but anytime I
fly over about 5 hours is long, and I get a bit stir crazy. The layover in
Atlanta was long, and we were both ready to be home. I was also sort of
dreading the drive from San Fran back home. But I am really excited to see the
girls and tell them all about the trip. I know Melis really misses the kids;
everyone once in a while she looks like she is going to break down and just
cry, but I see her shove in down. Thank God for Benadryl because the lady
behind us has a kid who is about 2 to 3 years old and the annoying one is not
the kid. I fade into an uncomfortable, cramped jet lagged sort of slumber.
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