Rome, May 31, 2017
All roads lead to Rome and it seems that half the world's population decided to get on those roads today. The city is packed with tourists and it's still May. Howard set an ambitious schedule for us: Pantheon, Coliseum, Trevi Fountain, St. Peter's, Plaza Navaronne. Jim and I each tossed another coin in the fountain, so tradition says we'll be back. We tossed coins in a few years ago and here we are! Traffic in Rome is a pluperfect mess. A gazillion cars, no lane lines on the streets, cars parked and double parked with abandon and the Vespas, always the Vespas weaving in and out and around. It's fun to watch this moving circus but it makes getting from point A to B a challenge.
We arrived in Rome yesterday afternoon. Once again, the best laid plans... Our little bus was arriving at 9:30 to hover on that little street in front of our Florentine hotel long enough to load us and our considerable pile of luggage. He arrived, the luggage was loaded and four of us got on, then someone decided to make a pre-drive pit stop so went back into the hotel just as a city bus pulled up behind our little bus and laid on his horn. Luigi weighed his options, closed the door and off we want to go around the block and then back to pick up those left in the lobby. Wellllllll, between the one way streets and closed streets and traffic restrictions we ended up crossing the Arno and going on a twenty minute adventure to get back to the hotel. Getting out of Florence is no mean trick. It probably took us a good 30 minutes to get to the A1 highway to Rome. Three hours later we're now arriving at 1:30 instead of noon. Guess what? Our hotel is on a narrow, one way street! Luigi was having none of that so pulled up on the main drag, unloaded our luggage on the street and called the hotel to send Marco with a luggage trolley. Marco made the block and a half trek with his cart over the paving stone streets, took one look at the pile of luggage, took three bags and high tailed it back to the hotel with three people following him only to reappear with the hotel manager. After much discussion with Luigi, the remaining luggage was reloaded into the bus as were we and with the manager riding shotgun, off we went on an involved detour to get to the hotel which included a discussion with a driver who was double parked and encouraged to get the hell outta the way. Somehow Luigi and the bus made it to the hotel but it wasn't easy. But, then, nothing really is in Italy where bureaucracy is both blood sport and high art form.
Best meal in Rome? A piece of Four Cheese and Black Pepper pizza from a hole in the wall take out joint across the street from the hotel! The Marcella Royal is lovely and gracious. Our room small with no view BUT the shower is bigger than a bread box AND has a door that closes. The water pressure is non existent. Give and take. Give and take. The Marcella has a fabulous roof garden with pots of flowers and trees everywhere, the pride and joy of the owner of the hotel. It also has a bar. Praise be. It is overseen by Salvitore, a grin and a giggle and also the slowest mixologist ever. By now we have accepted that NOthing is done fast in Italy, not even opening a beer! Plus Salvitore always brings a bowl of chips and a bowl of peanuts with the cocktail and always runs tabs for the guests. Roof top bar, a good thing.
We're tired of touring, tired of pasta and ready to head home tomorrow. We have, though, thoroughly enjoyed our traveling companions. It's always a crap shoot and with just twelve of us could have well been a disaster. Many hugs and exchanging of email addresses and phone numbers tonight. We all scatter to the winds in the morning but we also all live within spitting distance of each other in Georgia so hope our paths will cross again. Mayu and Kgo, the absolutely delightful 30-ish children of Jin and Yoko, are heading back to Tokyo but will be in Georgia for New Years. Would love to see them again, maybe even adopt them. Surprise, Jay. You're no longer an only child!
Final musings tomorrow from the airport. Jim is big on getting there early so I should have plenty of time to write and post.
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Monday, May 29, 2017
Pasta & Cheese & Terraces & Gardens, May 24 & 26, 2017
Pasta & Cheese & Terraces & Gardens, May 24 & 26, 2017
We had a cooking lesson at Le Logge, the restaurant of the flaming desert. A series of tables were set side by side to form a long surface and each station had a board, bowl, fork and pasta maker. We donned aprons (had to give them back, rats) and then we made pasta! Old school: a couple of scoops of 00 flour (so fine), make a well in the middle like a volcano, crack a couple of eggs into the well then beat the eggs and gradually incorporate the flour until Massimo or another chef approves of the consistency THEN you knead it. Eventually it's formed into a ball, wrapped in Saran Wrap and set aside while we made another dough. This was done in the bowl--two big scoops of flour and a small dollop of water and more fork work until the results are approved. Two people added one egg to their mixture and then all of the dough went into a big pile on the chef's board. Lots of kneading and then the chef and Massimo rolled it out and sliced it into 1/2 inch strips and we made Pici -- looks like fat spaghetti but it's hand rolled. We used the pasta machines to prepare the resting dough into sheets we sliced into various widths and two sheets to make ravioli. Two of our classmates were a couple from San Diego who had been to class the day before and made the sauces for the pasta: sage butter for the ravioli and tomato garlic for the Pici and Papardelle. While the kitchen staff cooked our rather sad looking noodles and ravioli, our cooking table became a dining table so we could eat the results. It was not bad.
We did NOT make cheese! Rather we visited a sheep farm just out of Montepulciano where Pecorino and ricotta are made. The 1000 head of sheep grazed in pastures around the factory, if you can call a facility with seven employees a factory. The sheep are milked every day at 5 am and 5 pm except during lambing season. Every day the cheese makers make fresh ricotta. Oh, my. There is absolutely no comparison between what they make and what we buy in the grocery store. Their's is pure white, fluffy, with a consistency close to whipped cream. Besides that ricotta we tasted pecorino aged from two weeks to over a year. The young one tastes like a flavorful mozzarella, the longer the cheese is aged, the harder it gets. We also had a wee wedge of cheese flavored with truffles. And, of course, some local red just because.
The day we tasted at the modern Icario we also went to the gorgeous gardens at Le Foce. During WWII, Iris Origo, mistress of the estate at Le Foce, kept a diary later published as War in Val d'Orcia. She was one of those women with a backbone of steel who protected the people who farmed their land, took in war orphans, hid people during the German Occupation and on and on. One of her daughters still lives in the big house that oversees the acres of very formal Italian gardens that spill down the hillsides. The roses were in full bloom, their fragrance wafting over us. So special.
We've had so much glorious food at the wine tastings, really farm to table. Howard has used his extensive connections to arrange truly magnificent tastings. None of those belly up to the bar in the retail wine shop for us. At every winery no matter the time (11 am, 1 pm, 3 pm) we've had sit-down tastings with China and Crystal and heavy, cloth napkins sometimes in the cellar but more often in a private room or terrace so we shouldn't have to rub elbows with the riff raff! And every time the tasting and eating lasted close to two hours. Prosciutto and melon and bruschetta and bread, always the salt-free Tuscan bread to dip into the house made olive oil.
Every night we headed to dinner at 7:30. I counted three Michelin starred restaurants. The chef at each place chose the menu for us, presenting his best dishes that represent the local bounty. The most beautiful restaurant was Il Chiostra in Pienza. We dined on a terrace overlooking the endlessly beautiful Tuscany hills. The chef is 26 with one star and a kitchen staff of young lions. I had my first octopus, grilled and served warm over herbed mashed potatoes. Jim and I were sitting with the Yoshidas who are real foodies. They both agreed the octopus was the best they'd ever eaten and they know their octopus! Me, too. This was followed by shrimp risotto, grilled salmon served in a cucumber-flavored broth and then dessert and then vinsanto (a sweet dessert wine) and little, hard biscotti to dip and eat. As we ate the sun slowly set and lights in the distant farm houses started to twinkle in the darkness. It was just magical.
One day we went to Siena. It's a lot more crowded and accessible than Montepulciano ---lots of tourists following their guides or guidebooks through the narrow streets down into the huge central square where each summer that crazy horse race is held. This square is immense! It is covered with dirt and then riders representing the various neighborhoods ride bareback three times around the perimeter of the square with 60,000 screaming people looking on. There are no rules. Bumping, poking, knocking the other guy off his steed are part of the race. And the winner is....the first horse to finish, with or without his rider. Italians love a no-rules contest! As we walked through the square and into the cathedral with it's distinctive striped columns of white and dark green marble, Jim and I remembered a visit a few years ago. We also remembered the gelato. My mission on this trip is a taste comparison of cherry gelato. It's a true sacrifice for scholarship.
I'm writing this on May 29th in Florence. We're leaving tomorrow after a busy three days here for Rome. Jim and I are in the most magnificent room in the Hotel degli Orafi. We look out on the Arno River and Ponte Vecchio. Big fluffy towels, crisp linens and a hand written card on our pillow each night telling the morrow's weather. We hate to leave...And it has a fabulous roof top terrace and bar. Every night before dinner up to the rooftop for an Aeperole Spritz and the various munchies they bring under little glass domes. Did I mention we hate to leave?
More about Firenze from Roma. Our time there is short and schedule is packed so I might next be writing from the Delta Skyclub as we await our flight home.
We had a cooking lesson at Le Logge, the restaurant of the flaming desert. A series of tables were set side by side to form a long surface and each station had a board, bowl, fork and pasta maker. We donned aprons (had to give them back, rats) and then we made pasta! Old school: a couple of scoops of 00 flour (so fine), make a well in the middle like a volcano, crack a couple of eggs into the well then beat the eggs and gradually incorporate the flour until Massimo or another chef approves of the consistency THEN you knead it. Eventually it's formed into a ball, wrapped in Saran Wrap and set aside while we made another dough. This was done in the bowl--two big scoops of flour and a small dollop of water and more fork work until the results are approved. Two people added one egg to their mixture and then all of the dough went into a big pile on the chef's board. Lots of kneading and then the chef and Massimo rolled it out and sliced it into 1/2 inch strips and we made Pici -- looks like fat spaghetti but it's hand rolled. We used the pasta machines to prepare the resting dough into sheets we sliced into various widths and two sheets to make ravioli. Two of our classmates were a couple from San Diego who had been to class the day before and made the sauces for the pasta: sage butter for the ravioli and tomato garlic for the Pici and Papardelle. While the kitchen staff cooked our rather sad looking noodles and ravioli, our cooking table became a dining table so we could eat the results. It was not bad.
We did NOT make cheese! Rather we visited a sheep farm just out of Montepulciano where Pecorino and ricotta are made. The 1000 head of sheep grazed in pastures around the factory, if you can call a facility with seven employees a factory. The sheep are milked every day at 5 am and 5 pm except during lambing season. Every day the cheese makers make fresh ricotta. Oh, my. There is absolutely no comparison between what they make and what we buy in the grocery store. Their's is pure white, fluffy, with a consistency close to whipped cream. Besides that ricotta we tasted pecorino aged from two weeks to over a year. The young one tastes like a flavorful mozzarella, the longer the cheese is aged, the harder it gets. We also had a wee wedge of cheese flavored with truffles. And, of course, some local red just because.
The day we tasted at the modern Icario we also went to the gorgeous gardens at Le Foce. During WWII, Iris Origo, mistress of the estate at Le Foce, kept a diary later published as War in Val d'Orcia. She was one of those women with a backbone of steel who protected the people who farmed their land, took in war orphans, hid people during the German Occupation and on and on. One of her daughters still lives in the big house that oversees the acres of very formal Italian gardens that spill down the hillsides. The roses were in full bloom, their fragrance wafting over us. So special.
We've had so much glorious food at the wine tastings, really farm to table. Howard has used his extensive connections to arrange truly magnificent tastings. None of those belly up to the bar in the retail wine shop for us. At every winery no matter the time (11 am, 1 pm, 3 pm) we've had sit-down tastings with China and Crystal and heavy, cloth napkins sometimes in the cellar but more often in a private room or terrace so we shouldn't have to rub elbows with the riff raff! And every time the tasting and eating lasted close to two hours. Prosciutto and melon and bruschetta and bread, always the salt-free Tuscan bread to dip into the house made olive oil.
Every night we headed to dinner at 7:30. I counted three Michelin starred restaurants. The chef at each place chose the menu for us, presenting his best dishes that represent the local bounty. The most beautiful restaurant was Il Chiostra in Pienza. We dined on a terrace overlooking the endlessly beautiful Tuscany hills. The chef is 26 with one star and a kitchen staff of young lions. I had my first octopus, grilled and served warm over herbed mashed potatoes. Jim and I were sitting with the Yoshidas who are real foodies. They both agreed the octopus was the best they'd ever eaten and they know their octopus! Me, too. This was followed by shrimp risotto, grilled salmon served in a cucumber-flavored broth and then dessert and then vinsanto (a sweet dessert wine) and little, hard biscotti to dip and eat. As we ate the sun slowly set and lights in the distant farm houses started to twinkle in the darkness. It was just magical.
One day we went to Siena. It's a lot more crowded and accessible than Montepulciano ---lots of tourists following their guides or guidebooks through the narrow streets down into the huge central square where each summer that crazy horse race is held. This square is immense! It is covered with dirt and then riders representing the various neighborhoods ride bareback three times around the perimeter of the square with 60,000 screaming people looking on. There are no rules. Bumping, poking, knocking the other guy off his steed are part of the race. And the winner is....the first horse to finish, with or without his rider. Italians love a no-rules contest! As we walked through the square and into the cathedral with it's distinctive striped columns of white and dark green marble, Jim and I remembered a visit a few years ago. We also remembered the gelato. My mission on this trip is a taste comparison of cherry gelato. It's a true sacrifice for scholarship.
I'm writing this on May 29th in Florence. We're leaving tomorrow after a busy three days here for Rome. Jim and I are in the most magnificent room in the Hotel degli Orafi. We look out on the Arno River and Ponte Vecchio. Big fluffy towels, crisp linens and a hand written card on our pillow each night telling the morrow's weather. We hate to leave...And it has a fabulous roof top terrace and bar. Every night before dinner up to the rooftop for an Aeperole Spritz and the various munchies they bring under little glass domes. Did I mention we hate to leave?
More about Firenze from Roma. Our time there is short and schedule is packed so I might next be writing from the Delta Skyclub as we await our flight home.
Friday, May 26, 2017
Tuscany, May 22-23, 2017
Tuscany, May 22-23, 2017
It seems that prowling around medieval cities on the hills (All are rather small walled cities on hilltops, better to see the approaching hoards. Side note: we learned that the local citizens were the canon fodder while the real fighting was done by professional soldiers whose only loyalty was to the highest bidder. The most famous and successful was Guido de Ricci, or Guido the Rich), wine tasting and two to three hour dinners can just eat up the day with little time for recording it all.
Tuscany is gorgeous. Green hills divided neatly into farms that grow grapes for the wine, olives for the oil or wheat for the pasta. Each farm is watched over by a house that can range from modest to castle, always the terra cotta color with red tile roof. If the roof leaks the custom is to throw more tile on top and weigh it all down with large rocks or bricks. The distinctive tall, pointy, columnar Italian cypress line roads, driveways, hillsides. The roads all seem to be narrow and twisty. There is a reason the cars are small (a Mini Cooper looks like a stretch limo compared to the tiny Fiats and Opels), well maybe two obvious reasons: the price of gas is around 1.5 Euros per liter around here which works out to about $5 per gallon. Second reason is the width of the roads. Two American compact cars would have trouble passing each other. Amazingly I haven't seen a single side swiped car. The taxi drivers (the in town guy wasn't too reliable so we've used a couple of gypsies from around the hood) seem to enjoy flying through these zigs and zags. Definitely an E Ticket ride at Disneyland. As Howard told us and we've since witnessed, traffic signs and signals are regarded more as suggestions than law.
I'm writing this the morning of May 26th, our first free morning. We've spent time sitting in on an art history class taught by a KSU professor with the KSU students (the facility in the Fortezza is modern and minimal with all the technical bells and whistles). He was relating Renaissance art to Greek philosophers and had us and the students mesmerized. We had a chance to visit with the "kids", mostly 18 or 19 years old but with several non traditional more mature students. There are approximately 45 enrolled per session (two each summer). They attend classes on Monday and Wednesday and then go on THE best field trips on Tuesday and Thursday. The day before they had been to Rome and the Vatican with upcoming visits to Siena, Florence, Pisa and on and on. Seeing the art, cities, countryside in person reinforces what they've heard in class. I'm so jealous that wasn't available back in the day...
Lots of wine tasting. We've been to modest cellars in Montepulciano, one of the grand Frescobaldi estates and a relatively new, very modern winery just out of town. The Italians might not care about the rules of the road but they follow the ironclad rules of wine making in Tuscany to the letter. The grapes must be grown, crushed and bottled at the winery. There are precise rules about how long the grapes are fermented, and then held, first in stainless steel, then huge barrels and finally 50 liter barrels. The barrels are French oak. The big ones last 10 to 12 years, the small ones just two then they are sold to designers and decorators and to companies making balsamic vinegar. Cost of the new barrel: 700 Euros. Resale: 35 Euros.
Each January a blind tasting is held at each winery to determine how the wines will be rated, Rosso, Nobile or Reserved. Some years there is no wine determined to be dubbed Reserved. Even the labels have very strict rules. Make a mistake and the wine cannot be sold. At the very modern Icario winery our guide, Lucy, said she was in charge of labels, spending days and days making sure they were correct. Lucy has got to be all of 25, maybe, and the fate of the vintage eventually falls on her shoulders.
No matter the venue, our tastings have been elaborate affairs with a long table set with multiple glasses, water (still and fizzy), crackers, bread or these nifty round crunchy things that look like tiny bagels the size of a quarter, and olive oil. All the wineries also there own oil. These tastings have been overseen by winery owners, including the only woman who owns and runs a winery, the people who travel the world selling their particular wine and the lovely Lucy. These people know their stuff from varieties of grapes to types of soil to picking all the way to bottling and marketing. Most of the grapes are hand picked by skilled locals and seasonal workers from Siena. At the magnificent Frescobaldi Castelgiocondo in Montalcino (they own countless properties so one has to specify exactly which castello) we were greeted by the head of their public relations department. Giacomo told us the wineries are still in the family's hands after 30 generations. When the latest became CEO he had every employee, no matter their position in the company, work in the fields for three months. Not only did this improve everyone's knowledge about the product but each gained new respect for the other and especially for those who pick the grapes. Giacomo said the grapes he and the others who work in the offices picked did not pass muster from the professionals. "Ours would have made very bad wine."
So, back to the tastings. Each winery makes at least one white but the rest are reds. So we begin. But you don't just taste wine, suddenly platters of meats and cheeses appear so we can experience how the wines taste with real food. Quite good! Four of our group are Japanese. The parents, Yoko and Gin, live in Atlanta, but their adult children, Mayu and Kaygo, live in Tokyo. Let me tell you, these people are true students of wine, especially Mayu. She asks very good questions and takes copious notes and then ships cases of the wine back to Japan. She and her brother went to school in Pasadena when Gin and Yoko first came to the US so speak excellent, idiomatic English. They're both cute as buttons and very stylish in their clothing. The tastings are informative and fun. I can now confidently order Italian wine off a menu. Because of the manufacturing restrictions most of the wineries are small production so sell in small quantities to shops and restaurants around the world.
And then there is dinner. We generally go at 7:30, sometimes in Montepulciano but also in neighboring towns. Howard arranged for two minivans to transport us. Jim and I quickly realized that Simona's was the lead dog in this pack. About as big as a minute, she takes those curves like the professional she is. One night we drove about 30 minutes to a neighboring city on a hill to a restaurant outside the walls that is said to be one of George Clooney's favorites. It's one of those if you don't know about it you won't know it's there. Umberto, our host, was dubbed the Dreamy Italian by the women in our group: 60-something with silver hair and dark framed glasses and that nonchalance that can't be taught. He would ask Howard what to fix and then relay that to the two person kitchen who would comply, then we'd eat that course and then Umberto would repeat the process through four courses! The wine he served was so local it wasn't labeled. If only George had been there.......
Jim and I agree that our best meal was the first we had a Le Logge in Montepulciano. Massimo is the chef and owner. It's a small place with walls of brick and one small window. As Massimo explained, everything is historical and nothing can be changed, but who can complain about dinner by candlelight? The food was spectacular from the tiny bowl of scrumptious Tuscan bean soup that tasted of orange with half of a hard boiled quail egg floating on top,sprinkle with black salt. That simple dish might well be my favorite so far. We had a pasta course, then the meat course (Lamb) arrived under individual domes that were lifted to allow the smoke to disappear. Dramatic and delicious. The best was the desert course: a chocolate ball the size of a tennis ball perched on top of a small pillar of ice cream was placed before us with instructions not to touch it. Then Massimo stopped at every plate to pour flaming absinthe over the chocolate ball that melted to reveal an airy tropical mousse. Yowza! Spectacular and delicious. Lots of cameras clicking! Bravo Massimo.
Time to go taste cheese (for a change) and then more wine.
There's still more to tell.
It seems that prowling around medieval cities on the hills (All are rather small walled cities on hilltops, better to see the approaching hoards. Side note: we learned that the local citizens were the canon fodder while the real fighting was done by professional soldiers whose only loyalty was to the highest bidder. The most famous and successful was Guido de Ricci, or Guido the Rich), wine tasting and two to three hour dinners can just eat up the day with little time for recording it all.
Tuscany is gorgeous. Green hills divided neatly into farms that grow grapes for the wine, olives for the oil or wheat for the pasta. Each farm is watched over by a house that can range from modest to castle, always the terra cotta color with red tile roof. If the roof leaks the custom is to throw more tile on top and weigh it all down with large rocks or bricks. The distinctive tall, pointy, columnar Italian cypress line roads, driveways, hillsides. The roads all seem to be narrow and twisty. There is a reason the cars are small (a Mini Cooper looks like a stretch limo compared to the tiny Fiats and Opels), well maybe two obvious reasons: the price of gas is around 1.5 Euros per liter around here which works out to about $5 per gallon. Second reason is the width of the roads. Two American compact cars would have trouble passing each other. Amazingly I haven't seen a single side swiped car. The taxi drivers (the in town guy wasn't too reliable so we've used a couple of gypsies from around the hood) seem to enjoy flying through these zigs and zags. Definitely an E Ticket ride at Disneyland. As Howard told us and we've since witnessed, traffic signs and signals are regarded more as suggestions than law.
I'm writing this the morning of May 26th, our first free morning. We've spent time sitting in on an art history class taught by a KSU professor with the KSU students (the facility in the Fortezza is modern and minimal with all the technical bells and whistles). He was relating Renaissance art to Greek philosophers and had us and the students mesmerized. We had a chance to visit with the "kids", mostly 18 or 19 years old but with several non traditional more mature students. There are approximately 45 enrolled per session (two each summer). They attend classes on Monday and Wednesday and then go on THE best field trips on Tuesday and Thursday. The day before they had been to Rome and the Vatican with upcoming visits to Siena, Florence, Pisa and on and on. Seeing the art, cities, countryside in person reinforces what they've heard in class. I'm so jealous that wasn't available back in the day...
Lots of wine tasting. We've been to modest cellars in Montepulciano, one of the grand Frescobaldi estates and a relatively new, very modern winery just out of town. The Italians might not care about the rules of the road but they follow the ironclad rules of wine making in Tuscany to the letter. The grapes must be grown, crushed and bottled at the winery. There are precise rules about how long the grapes are fermented, and then held, first in stainless steel, then huge barrels and finally 50 liter barrels. The barrels are French oak. The big ones last 10 to 12 years, the small ones just two then they are sold to designers and decorators and to companies making balsamic vinegar. Cost of the new barrel: 700 Euros. Resale: 35 Euros.
Each January a blind tasting is held at each winery to determine how the wines will be rated, Rosso, Nobile or Reserved. Some years there is no wine determined to be dubbed Reserved. Even the labels have very strict rules. Make a mistake and the wine cannot be sold. At the very modern Icario winery our guide, Lucy, said she was in charge of labels, spending days and days making sure they were correct. Lucy has got to be all of 25, maybe, and the fate of the vintage eventually falls on her shoulders.
No matter the venue, our tastings have been elaborate affairs with a long table set with multiple glasses, water (still and fizzy), crackers, bread or these nifty round crunchy things that look like tiny bagels the size of a quarter, and olive oil. All the wineries also there own oil. These tastings have been overseen by winery owners, including the only woman who owns and runs a winery, the people who travel the world selling their particular wine and the lovely Lucy. These people know their stuff from varieties of grapes to types of soil to picking all the way to bottling and marketing. Most of the grapes are hand picked by skilled locals and seasonal workers from Siena. At the magnificent Frescobaldi Castelgiocondo in Montalcino (they own countless properties so one has to specify exactly which castello) we were greeted by the head of their public relations department. Giacomo told us the wineries are still in the family's hands after 30 generations. When the latest became CEO he had every employee, no matter their position in the company, work in the fields for three months. Not only did this improve everyone's knowledge about the product but each gained new respect for the other and especially for those who pick the grapes. Giacomo said the grapes he and the others who work in the offices picked did not pass muster from the professionals. "Ours would have made very bad wine."
So, back to the tastings. Each winery makes at least one white but the rest are reds. So we begin. But you don't just taste wine, suddenly platters of meats and cheeses appear so we can experience how the wines taste with real food. Quite good! Four of our group are Japanese. The parents, Yoko and Gin, live in Atlanta, but their adult children, Mayu and Kaygo, live in Tokyo. Let me tell you, these people are true students of wine, especially Mayu. She asks very good questions and takes copious notes and then ships cases of the wine back to Japan. She and her brother went to school in Pasadena when Gin and Yoko first came to the US so speak excellent, idiomatic English. They're both cute as buttons and very stylish in their clothing. The tastings are informative and fun. I can now confidently order Italian wine off a menu. Because of the manufacturing restrictions most of the wineries are small production so sell in small quantities to shops and restaurants around the world.
And then there is dinner. We generally go at 7:30, sometimes in Montepulciano but also in neighboring towns. Howard arranged for two minivans to transport us. Jim and I quickly realized that Simona's was the lead dog in this pack. About as big as a minute, she takes those curves like the professional she is. One night we drove about 30 minutes to a neighboring city on a hill to a restaurant outside the walls that is said to be one of George Clooney's favorites. It's one of those if you don't know about it you won't know it's there. Umberto, our host, was dubbed the Dreamy Italian by the women in our group: 60-something with silver hair and dark framed glasses and that nonchalance that can't be taught. He would ask Howard what to fix and then relay that to the two person kitchen who would comply, then we'd eat that course and then Umberto would repeat the process through four courses! The wine he served was so local it wasn't labeled. If only George had been there.......
Jim and I agree that our best meal was the first we had a Le Logge in Montepulciano. Massimo is the chef and owner. It's a small place with walls of brick and one small window. As Massimo explained, everything is historical and nothing can be changed, but who can complain about dinner by candlelight? The food was spectacular from the tiny bowl of scrumptious Tuscan bean soup that tasted of orange with half of a hard boiled quail egg floating on top,sprinkle with black salt. That simple dish might well be my favorite so far. We had a pasta course, then the meat course (Lamb) arrived under individual domes that were lifted to allow the smoke to disappear. Dramatic and delicious. The best was the desert course: a chocolate ball the size of a tennis ball perched on top of a small pillar of ice cream was placed before us with instructions not to touch it. Then Massimo stopped at every plate to pour flaming absinthe over the chocolate ball that melted to reveal an airy tropical mousse. Yowza! Spectacular and delicious. Lots of cameras clicking! Bravo Massimo.
Time to go taste cheese (for a change) and then more wine.
There's still more to tell.
Rome to Tuscany, May 21 & 22, 2017
Rome to Tuscany, May 21 & 22, 2017
Buongiorno
A nice, uneventful flight from Amsterdam to Rome. There was neither immigration or customs to deal with in Rome AND our luggage made it, always a good sign. And sunshine at last!
Now comes the transition phase from someone to do everything for you on the ship to shifting for yourself ashore. We caught an airport shuttle bus that stops at all the staff parking lots and then the Hilton Garden Inn. By the time we'd checked in and gotten to our room it was nearly 6:30 and time for an early dinner. The TV had several stations in English so we caught up a bit on the news, mostly Trump's trip to the Middle East and scores of soccer matches in UK.
The big challenge was the next morning when we took the shuttle back to the airport and with annotated map in hand set out to find the coffee bar on the arrival of Terminal 3 where the members of the KSU group were to meet. Amazingly enough we found the coffee bar and six of our band. The other four were arriving on a (delayed) flight from Atlanta.
Let me tell you that the arrival terminals are bedlam. Endless streams of people popping out of one door to find hundreds more people to greet them, about half friends and family and half drivers and tour leaders holding up little hand lettered signs saying things like "Vatican Tour", "Bob Jones", and then the cruise lines meeting passengers arriving to board ships in the near by port.
As it so happened, Princess Cruises gathers their flock near that same coffee bar. Jim struck up a conversation with a couple from UK who were taking a Princess cruise from Rome to Singapore. Hundreds of Chinese were being shepherded to that meeting spot, given a bus assignment and then turned over their luggage to a group of burly men who loaded it up on trolleys and (hopefully) delivered it all to the ship. Quite an entertaining spot to people watch.
Eventually Howard, the KSU Professor Emeritus leading our tour, and the other arrived. And eventually our silver bus arrived and eventually we were off to Montepulciano (2-1/2 hours away), a medieval, walled village set high on a hilltop in Tuscany. This is where KSU has a foreign campus located in the old fortezza that guarded the town. And a hilly little burg it is. Quite charming with narrow, winding cobblestone lanes (they're much too narrow to be called streets) with small little shops and restaurants tucked here and there.
We'd been warned that it was hilly and the streets were steep but that is the understatement of the year. You need to be part mountain goat to navigate the place. Some lanes are so steep that there are metal hand rails on the sides of the buildings. We were late getting to our hotel outside the gates, at the bottom of the hill, and thus had about 15 minutes before our first wine tasting in town. One of the women, Beth, uses a cane. Howard took one look at Jim and me and said, "Do you want to take a taxi with Beth to the wine shop?" Uh, oh.
So Howard set off with eight in tow for the 30 minutes it takes to climb the one mile to the Fortezza. The three of us took the ("The" as in only taxi in town) unmetered taxi. Seems it's five euros a piece to ride with him. Whatever. We got to the gate of the Fortezza but didn't see the rest of the group. Jim walked up to see if they were inside but was told the wine tasting room was closed. Uh, oh.
I set off to walk down the main drag (when a car passes by you flatten yourself against one of the buildings that edge the lanes) to the square but didn't find them there either. As I was walking back I heard, "Susan!", turned and saw my Master Gardener friend Amy and her husband Joe. Joe is a professor at KSU and is the school coordinator for the summer which means riding herd over two groups of 45 or so who come for 4-1/2 week sessions. And evidently locating the three of us. We all walked up to the door of the Fortezza. Yes, the wine tasting room was closed but for a special tasting for our group. A little language gap.
KSU occupies the upper floors, a museum is on the ground floor and the wine tasting room is below. The floor is glass. Whenever an historic building is being renovated, Italian law requires that archaeologists be present. The Etruscans were here first so it is not unusual to find evidence but underneath the Fortezza was a mother lode of Etruscan relics and not just shards of pottery but entire columns, cisterns, wells, etc. Needless to say this brought the renovation to a halt. It was determined that all of that couldn't be removed without risking the integrity of the entire Fortezza so the compromise was the glass floor. You look down and see the old and then step out on the medieval terrace and gaze across the now.
Buongiorno
A nice, uneventful flight from Amsterdam to Rome. There was neither immigration or customs to deal with in Rome AND our luggage made it, always a good sign. And sunshine at last!
Now comes the transition phase from someone to do everything for you on the ship to shifting for yourself ashore. We caught an airport shuttle bus that stops at all the staff parking lots and then the Hilton Garden Inn. By the time we'd checked in and gotten to our room it was nearly 6:30 and time for an early dinner. The TV had several stations in English so we caught up a bit on the news, mostly Trump's trip to the Middle East and scores of soccer matches in UK.
The big challenge was the next morning when we took the shuttle back to the airport and with annotated map in hand set out to find the coffee bar on the arrival of Terminal 3 where the members of the KSU group were to meet. Amazingly enough we found the coffee bar and six of our band. The other four were arriving on a (delayed) flight from Atlanta.
Let me tell you that the arrival terminals are bedlam. Endless streams of people popping out of one door to find hundreds more people to greet them, about half friends and family and half drivers and tour leaders holding up little hand lettered signs saying things like "Vatican Tour", "Bob Jones", and then the cruise lines meeting passengers arriving to board ships in the near by port.
As it so happened, Princess Cruises gathers their flock near that same coffee bar. Jim struck up a conversation with a couple from UK who were taking a Princess cruise from Rome to Singapore. Hundreds of Chinese were being shepherded to that meeting spot, given a bus assignment and then turned over their luggage to a group of burly men who loaded it up on trolleys and (hopefully) delivered it all to the ship. Quite an entertaining spot to people watch.
Eventually Howard, the KSU Professor Emeritus leading our tour, and the other arrived. And eventually our silver bus arrived and eventually we were off to Montepulciano (2-1/2 hours away), a medieval, walled village set high on a hilltop in Tuscany. This is where KSU has a foreign campus located in the old fortezza that guarded the town. And a hilly little burg it is. Quite charming with narrow, winding cobblestone lanes (they're much too narrow to be called streets) with small little shops and restaurants tucked here and there.
We'd been warned that it was hilly and the streets were steep but that is the understatement of the year. You need to be part mountain goat to navigate the place. Some lanes are so steep that there are metal hand rails on the sides of the buildings. We were late getting to our hotel outside the gates, at the bottom of the hill, and thus had about 15 minutes before our first wine tasting in town. One of the women, Beth, uses a cane. Howard took one look at Jim and me and said, "Do you want to take a taxi with Beth to the wine shop?" Uh, oh.
So Howard set off with eight in tow for the 30 minutes it takes to climb the one mile to the Fortezza. The three of us took the ("The" as in only taxi in town) unmetered taxi. Seems it's five euros a piece to ride with him. Whatever. We got to the gate of the Fortezza but didn't see the rest of the group. Jim walked up to see if they were inside but was told the wine tasting room was closed. Uh, oh.
I set off to walk down the main drag (when a car passes by you flatten yourself against one of the buildings that edge the lanes) to the square but didn't find them there either. As I was walking back I heard, "Susan!", turned and saw my Master Gardener friend Amy and her husband Joe. Joe is a professor at KSU and is the school coordinator for the summer which means riding herd over two groups of 45 or so who come for 4-1/2 week sessions. And evidently locating the three of us. We all walked up to the door of the Fortezza. Yes, the wine tasting room was closed but for a special tasting for our group. A little language gap.
KSU occupies the upper floors, a museum is on the ground floor and the wine tasting room is below. The floor is glass. Whenever an historic building is being renovated, Italian law requires that archaeologists be present. The Etruscans were here first so it is not unusual to find evidence but underneath the Fortezza was a mother lode of Etruscan relics and not just shards of pottery but entire columns, cisterns, wells, etc. Needless to say this brought the renovation to a halt. It was determined that all of that couldn't be removed without risking the integrity of the entire Fortezza so the compromise was the glass floor. You look down and see the old and then step out on the medieval terrace and gaze across the now.
Saturday, May 20, 2017
Bonus Nugget from Schipol Airport
Because the G7 conference is soon to start in Italy, airport security is amped up. Had to take liquids and computers out of carry on, go through the 360 X-ray machine AND a pat down. Yet not a blink of the eye at knitting needles in my carry on. Now to see if our newly acquired Global Entry works in Rome. We're carrying a letter from HAL for immigration. Seems the Frenchies in Brest decided not to entry stamp our passports so we have not officially entered another country. This happened to us once before at this very airport. I think we finally showed the official our itemized bar bill from the ship to prove we really had traveled from the US to Europe. Another of my Susan Bourne experiences with passport control.
On to Rome, May 20, 2017
On to Rome, May 20, 2017
This is one of those hurry and wait days.
The Prinsendam docked 7-ish and then then the disembarking procedure began. You're given luggage tags to correspond to where and when you're going next. Those with flights after three could take excursions in and around Amsterdam that included an airport transfer. Our flight to Rome leaves at 2:25 and even though we all know perfectly well that those excursions would get everyone to Schipol by noon and probably earlier, the excursion manager wouldn't budge so the 9:15 shuttle to the airport it is!
It was a nice crossing, despite the detour. We never encountered any rough weather, thank you very much. As per usual the HAL crew is most accommodating. The Dutch running the front desk and excursions can be a bit stiff, but the cabin stewards and wait staff in the dining rooms are cheerful and enjoy interacting with the passengers. HAL is slowly updating onboard technology and now has the same offline info system as we had on Princess. You set up an account off line that takes you to a nifty website that lists all activities available each day both onboard and on shore, your specific itinerary, your account, restaurant reservations, etc. It's quite handy to have on phone, tablet or laptop.
Now we're in one of the very expansive KLM lounges (Delta medallion perk) with fabulous and free wifi as the breakfast buffet is changing to the luncheon buffet. This lounge is for EU destinations so many languages all around us. Maybe I should search for some Italians and get a crash course...Three hours until our flight so plenty of time to learn a phrase or two, Please, Thank You, How much?
I still cannot get pictures to link with this but I have been editing as we go along so plan to upload to Shutterfly as soon as we get home.
I just must take advantage of this wifi and send this now.
This is one of those hurry and wait days.
The Prinsendam docked 7-ish and then then the disembarking procedure began. You're given luggage tags to correspond to where and when you're going next. Those with flights after three could take excursions in and around Amsterdam that included an airport transfer. Our flight to Rome leaves at 2:25 and even though we all know perfectly well that those excursions would get everyone to Schipol by noon and probably earlier, the excursion manager wouldn't budge so the 9:15 shuttle to the airport it is!
It was a nice crossing, despite the detour. We never encountered any rough weather, thank you very much. As per usual the HAL crew is most accommodating. The Dutch running the front desk and excursions can be a bit stiff, but the cabin stewards and wait staff in the dining rooms are cheerful and enjoy interacting with the passengers. HAL is slowly updating onboard technology and now has the same offline info system as we had on Princess. You set up an account off line that takes you to a nifty website that lists all activities available each day both onboard and on shore, your specific itinerary, your account, restaurant reservations, etc. It's quite handy to have on phone, tablet or laptop.
Now we're in one of the very expansive KLM lounges (Delta medallion perk) with fabulous and free wifi as the breakfast buffet is changing to the luncheon buffet. This lounge is for EU destinations so many languages all around us. Maybe I should search for some Italians and get a crash course...Three hours until our flight so plenty of time to learn a phrase or two, Please, Thank You, How much?
I still cannot get pictures to link with this but I have been editing as we go along so plan to upload to Shutterfly as soon as we get home.
I just must take advantage of this wifi and send this now.
Brussels, May 19, 2017 Uh oh, Lost Two
Brussels, May 19, 2017
Uh, oh. Lost two...
Another marathon day. We docked in Zeebrugge at 7 AM and were en route to Brussels shortly afterwards. They allow 2-1/2 hours to get there in case of traffic, road construction or both.
Interesting port, actually two ports: one open to the sea, the other inner that connects to canals via a series of locks. Flat, flat country with everything from bucolic farms to tire stores and roadside commerce. Once again the Europeans are clueless about the concept of the rest stop. One learns to moderate one's fluid intake prior to shore excursions.
Today our guide is a rather humorless chap who is obviously quite proud of his country. Never did get his name. Flemish is absolutely indecipherable. Can't read it, can't understand it. As seat of the EU, Brussels is the true international city, an architectural mix of old and new, and very crowded. Gobs of tourists from all over the world, both adults and mobs of school age children and teens. Jim asks, "Doesn't anyone work or go to school?" And FYI, it seems that all the smokers have migrated from France to Belgium! And so many in their 20s and 30s.
We flew by this monument and that historical spot before finally stopping in the older downtown centered by the Grand Place. Our guide lead us through a labyrinth of narrow lanes and streets of endless shops and restaurants. At this point he left 18 of us in a splendid glass topped arcade with high end shops while he took two of the group ahead to the lunch restaurant. The ship ranks all excursions as either easy, moderate or strenuous. Ours was labeled as moderate with a lot of walking over uneven, cobblestone streets. However, HAL does not seem to keep those unable to handle the walking off the tour so we had this elderly couple; he shuffles with the aid of one or two canes and she is nimble but never pays attention to instructions. Thus they were walked directly to the restaurant. The guide returned and walked us around and into the splendid Grand Place warning us to watch for pick pockets, machine made chocolates and lace. About the chocolates and lace, it must be hand made. If the price is reasonable it's mass produced so take a pass.
There are so many chocolate stores with gorgeous displays of their goods. I was so tempted but knew that anything I bought to bring home would never make it through two weeks in Italy. No doubt I would just have to eat them before they got squishy in the Tuscan sun. Left the lace in the stores, too. Jim is now collecting key rings from each stop that he snaps onto the zipper pull of his back pack so we cruised through a rather nice souvenir shop. Lots of stuff with EU logos. Bred it be damned.
After a tasty lunch with plenty of vino, we were given maps and set loose for an hour or so with instructions to meet at the foot of a staircase in front of one of the elaborate buildings in the Grand Place. It was cool and raining a bit but this time I was ready for it. So many people! So many Selfie sticks! And so many waffle shops! The basic waffle, about six inches square, can be topped with anything from chocolate to some mysterious-looking stuff. At one Euro each probably THE bargain in Northern Europe. Every kid walking around had one. Lots of adults, too!
At the appointed hour, 1:30, everyone was at the meeting spot except for guess who. We waited and waited and then followed the guide over the river and through the woods to our bus. Departure time was a firm 2 PM to get us back to the ship by all aboard at 4:30. The guide then set out to find the MIAs, returning every ten minutes empty handed. Now the phone calls are starting to the tour company (we were given cards with an emergency number to call just in case) and then the ship. Finally at 3 the orders were given to end the search and head immediately to the ship. Originally we were all pissed but gradually we began to be concerned and I'm sure the guide wasn't at anxious to get back minus two peeps. That HAS got to be a black mark for him and endless paperwork. Ditto for the ship.
The driver took a few detours near the area where we had walked around and we were all noses to the windows looking for them. After 30 minutes weaving in and out of the traffic suddenly there they were, standing on a corner no where near our meeting place. Big sighs of relief from guide and driver and not a single word of apology from the MIAs! Points to the guide for giving them a proper scolding in English and God only knows what he was saying in Flemish. Went right over their heads. I guess they were just depending on divine providence.
Somehow the driver got us back to the ship just a bit after 5 and wouldn't you know that I got stuck behind that old geezer hobbling up the gangway. Ever so tempted to give him just the tiniest shove........
A regenerative cocktail as the ship left (immediately!), early dinner and then packing to get the bags outside our door by midnight. A stately speed of 10 knots will cover the 90 nautical miles to Amsterdam by early morning.
Uh, oh. Lost two...
Another marathon day. We docked in Zeebrugge at 7 AM and were en route to Brussels shortly afterwards. They allow 2-1/2 hours to get there in case of traffic, road construction or both.
Interesting port, actually two ports: one open to the sea, the other inner that connects to canals via a series of locks. Flat, flat country with everything from bucolic farms to tire stores and roadside commerce. Once again the Europeans are clueless about the concept of the rest stop. One learns to moderate one's fluid intake prior to shore excursions.
Today our guide is a rather humorless chap who is obviously quite proud of his country. Never did get his name. Flemish is absolutely indecipherable. Can't read it, can't understand it. As seat of the EU, Brussels is the true international city, an architectural mix of old and new, and very crowded. Gobs of tourists from all over the world, both adults and mobs of school age children and teens. Jim asks, "Doesn't anyone work or go to school?" And FYI, it seems that all the smokers have migrated from France to Belgium! And so many in their 20s and 30s.
We flew by this monument and that historical spot before finally stopping in the older downtown centered by the Grand Place. Our guide lead us through a labyrinth of narrow lanes and streets of endless shops and restaurants. At this point he left 18 of us in a splendid glass topped arcade with high end shops while he took two of the group ahead to the lunch restaurant. The ship ranks all excursions as either easy, moderate or strenuous. Ours was labeled as moderate with a lot of walking over uneven, cobblestone streets. However, HAL does not seem to keep those unable to handle the walking off the tour so we had this elderly couple; he shuffles with the aid of one or two canes and she is nimble but never pays attention to instructions. Thus they were walked directly to the restaurant. The guide returned and walked us around and into the splendid Grand Place warning us to watch for pick pockets, machine made chocolates and lace. About the chocolates and lace, it must be hand made. If the price is reasonable it's mass produced so take a pass.
There are so many chocolate stores with gorgeous displays of their goods. I was so tempted but knew that anything I bought to bring home would never make it through two weeks in Italy. No doubt I would just have to eat them before they got squishy in the Tuscan sun. Left the lace in the stores, too. Jim is now collecting key rings from each stop that he snaps onto the zipper pull of his back pack so we cruised through a rather nice souvenir shop. Lots of stuff with EU logos. Bred it be damned.
After a tasty lunch with plenty of vino, we were given maps and set loose for an hour or so with instructions to meet at the foot of a staircase in front of one of the elaborate buildings in the Grand Place. It was cool and raining a bit but this time I was ready for it. So many people! So many Selfie sticks! And so many waffle shops! The basic waffle, about six inches square, can be topped with anything from chocolate to some mysterious-looking stuff. At one Euro each probably THE bargain in Northern Europe. Every kid walking around had one. Lots of adults, too!
At the appointed hour, 1:30, everyone was at the meeting spot except for guess who. We waited and waited and then followed the guide over the river and through the woods to our bus. Departure time was a firm 2 PM to get us back to the ship by all aboard at 4:30. The guide then set out to find the MIAs, returning every ten minutes empty handed. Now the phone calls are starting to the tour company (we were given cards with an emergency number to call just in case) and then the ship. Finally at 3 the orders were given to end the search and head immediately to the ship. Originally we were all pissed but gradually we began to be concerned and I'm sure the guide wasn't at anxious to get back minus two peeps. That HAS got to be a black mark for him and endless paperwork. Ditto for the ship.
The driver took a few detours near the area where we had walked around and we were all noses to the windows looking for them. After 30 minutes weaving in and out of the traffic suddenly there they were, standing on a corner no where near our meeting place. Big sighs of relief from guide and driver and not a single word of apology from the MIAs! Points to the guide for giving them a proper scolding in English and God only knows what he was saying in Flemish. Went right over their heads. I guess they were just depending on divine providence.
Somehow the driver got us back to the ship just a bit after 5 and wouldn't you know that I got stuck behind that old geezer hobbling up the gangway. Ever so tempted to give him just the tiniest shove........
A regenerative cocktail as the ship left (immediately!), early dinner and then packing to get the bags outside our door by midnight. A stately speed of 10 knots will cover the 90 nautical miles to Amsterdam by early morning.
Friday, May 19, 2017
Cherbourg, May 18, 2017
Cherbourg, May 18, 2017
Another HUGE deep water port leveled in WWII, this time by the Nazis. The town is a long ways from Paris and the other major cities in France so the port is not used for trade, but rather for Cruise ships, ferries and lots of pleasure craft.
This is the stop closest to Normandy and the D-Day beaches, cemeteries, etc. We toured those a few years ago and remember vividly the experience so opted to go to Mont Saint Michel instead, about 2-1/2 hours away. The weather looked pretty gloomy but the Shore Excursion chick assured me it was supposed to break by 10 am so I set off with a light hoodie, leaving rain gear in the cabin. It didn't stop raining the entire day! Again, where's the Weather Channel when you need it?
Normandy is as green and lush as neighboring Brittany. It is the center of horse breeding in this part of the world and is famous for rich dairy products, especially the thick cream from the Normany breed of cows, white with brown spots around the eyes that make the creatures all look like they're wearing sunglasses, white cattle and shaggy sheep with black legs and faces. Although the drive was long, there were only 20 of us on the bus so we got to spread out and enjoy the scenery. Away from Cherbourg, the farm and village buildings are much older, made of stone with steep roofs to drain the rain. Rolling hills of picturesque green meadows. Beautiful.
Thirty minutes or so before we actually arrived there, suddenly MSM loomed in the distance. It is so distinctive - pyramid-shaped rising 80 meters above the sandy shore. Where once it was marooned at high tide now a series of locks controls the water flow of the tides which can be very extreme this far north.
Once upon a time visitors could drive up to the entrance but now that is also carefully controlled. There are car parks quite a distance from the Abbey. From there you walk a good half mile to the shuttle station and get jammed into a vehicle that looks like a subway car on wheels. It drives across a causeway and for some reason that only the French can understand the shuttle stops another half mile from the Abbey entrance and out you go to finish the approach. Nathalie told us so much about the history of the Abbey what she didn't tell us was that to reach it we got to climb 300+ high stone steps in the rain. Sometimes the passage was so narrow we had to turn sideways and then the stairs would be circular and then suddenly wide, usually with no banister. We'd hang on to the stone walls, suck more wind and carry on.
It's one of those "How did they ever build this a thousand years ago?" places. Long ago 65 monks lived there, dedicating their lives to copying the Bible in elaborate, bejeweled illustrated manuscripts, taking four years to complete just one copy. Along the way it was also a prison, a celestial Alcatraz. Now there are a dozen sisters and monks in residence plus another ten people in the village at the base of the island. It's a chaotic jumble of hotels, restaurants and souvenir shops lining a cobblestone "street" not even ten feet wide crowded with tourists from all over the world, shoulder to shoulder, attempting to make the climb or maybe settle for half way (it's a maze of twists and turns, all made of stone and always up, up, up.)
We did make it to the church at the top, a mixture of different styles depending on when each section was constructed. The refrectory adjoins the church, with more chapels and rooms below. We climbed up this staircase and down that and then around another bend and still there was more. We descended to the village on the "easy" route, enjoying the odd pocket garden along the way. According to my iPhone I climbed 24 flights of stairs that day. I believe it! When we got back to the ship we each popped a couple of Aleve and then you-better-believe-we-took-the-elevator up to the Crow's Nest in time to watch our departure and take advantage of Happy Hour, buy one get the second for two dollars! If ever there was a medicinal cocktail.....
Normally we would shower and change for dinner in the dining room, but we were pooped little sailors, so managed the one flight down to the Lido deck for the casual buffet. It happened to be Indonesian Night--the tables were dressed with batik clothes, the serving staff was dressed in more batiks and the chefs had prepared dozens of Indonesian dishes. I asked one to select what he thought I should try which delighted him. I have no idea what it all was but it was delicious! We finished in time for the early show so we waddled down to the theater and oh, no, the performer was a mime magician. Oh, well, we were seated and not climbing stairs so how bad could it be. Surprisingly the guy was very entertaining even though never uttering a word. So whadaya know, two checks on the bucket list this day: Mont Saint Michel AND a mime magician!
Another HUGE deep water port leveled in WWII, this time by the Nazis. The town is a long ways from Paris and the other major cities in France so the port is not used for trade, but rather for Cruise ships, ferries and lots of pleasure craft.
This is the stop closest to Normandy and the D-Day beaches, cemeteries, etc. We toured those a few years ago and remember vividly the experience so opted to go to Mont Saint Michel instead, about 2-1/2 hours away. The weather looked pretty gloomy but the Shore Excursion chick assured me it was supposed to break by 10 am so I set off with a light hoodie, leaving rain gear in the cabin. It didn't stop raining the entire day! Again, where's the Weather Channel when you need it?
Normandy is as green and lush as neighboring Brittany. It is the center of horse breeding in this part of the world and is famous for rich dairy products, especially the thick cream from the Normany breed of cows, white with brown spots around the eyes that make the creatures all look like they're wearing sunglasses, white cattle and shaggy sheep with black legs and faces. Although the drive was long, there were only 20 of us on the bus so we got to spread out and enjoy the scenery. Away from Cherbourg, the farm and village buildings are much older, made of stone with steep roofs to drain the rain. Rolling hills of picturesque green meadows. Beautiful.
Thirty minutes or so before we actually arrived there, suddenly MSM loomed in the distance. It is so distinctive - pyramid-shaped rising 80 meters above the sandy shore. Where once it was marooned at high tide now a series of locks controls the water flow of the tides which can be very extreme this far north.
Once upon a time visitors could drive up to the entrance but now that is also carefully controlled. There are car parks quite a distance from the Abbey. From there you walk a good half mile to the shuttle station and get jammed into a vehicle that looks like a subway car on wheels. It drives across a causeway and for some reason that only the French can understand the shuttle stops another half mile from the Abbey entrance and out you go to finish the approach. Nathalie told us so much about the history of the Abbey what she didn't tell us was that to reach it we got to climb 300+ high stone steps in the rain. Sometimes the passage was so narrow we had to turn sideways and then the stairs would be circular and then suddenly wide, usually with no banister. We'd hang on to the stone walls, suck more wind and carry on.
It's one of those "How did they ever build this a thousand years ago?" places. Long ago 65 monks lived there, dedicating their lives to copying the Bible in elaborate, bejeweled illustrated manuscripts, taking four years to complete just one copy. Along the way it was also a prison, a celestial Alcatraz. Now there are a dozen sisters and monks in residence plus another ten people in the village at the base of the island. It's a chaotic jumble of hotels, restaurants and souvenir shops lining a cobblestone "street" not even ten feet wide crowded with tourists from all over the world, shoulder to shoulder, attempting to make the climb or maybe settle for half way (it's a maze of twists and turns, all made of stone and always up, up, up.)
We did make it to the church at the top, a mixture of different styles depending on when each section was constructed. The refrectory adjoins the church, with more chapels and rooms below. We climbed up this staircase and down that and then around another bend and still there was more. We descended to the village on the "easy" route, enjoying the odd pocket garden along the way. According to my iPhone I climbed 24 flights of stairs that day. I believe it! When we got back to the ship we each popped a couple of Aleve and then you-better-believe-we-took-the-elevator up to the Crow's Nest in time to watch our departure and take advantage of Happy Hour, buy one get the second for two dollars! If ever there was a medicinal cocktail.....
Normally we would shower and change for dinner in the dining room, but we were pooped little sailors, so managed the one flight down to the Lido deck for the casual buffet. It happened to be Indonesian Night--the tables were dressed with batik clothes, the serving staff was dressed in more batiks and the chefs had prepared dozens of Indonesian dishes. I asked one to select what he thought I should try which delighted him. I have no idea what it all was but it was delicious! We finished in time for the early show so we waddled down to the theater and oh, no, the performer was a mime magician. Oh, well, we were seated and not climbing stairs so how bad could it be. Surprisingly the guy was very entertaining even though never uttering a word. So whadaya know, two checks on the bucket list this day: Mont Saint Michel AND a mime magician!
Musings at sea, May 16, 2017
At Sea, May 16, 2017
Musings
Seven days at sea is a long time. This group of passengers is well-traveled so have easily adjusted to the two extra days. The newbies are a bit antsy.
Even though the Prinsendam is small it still has the usual roster of activities, exercise classes, ping pong and shuffleboard, bridge, Mah Jongg, movies, Casino tournaments, trivia contests and, of course, Bingo. The three lecturers have each given at least half a dozen presentations and the "Digital Host" teaches three or four classes a day on computery stuff. Jim has read six or so books so far, including a couple off the Tuscany reading list. I read the intros to those and then busied myself working my way through the Mary Higgins Clark oeuvre in the library. I figure I'll have time in the Amsterdam airport and then on the flight to Rome to skim the highlights of the Italian stuff. Old academic habits die hard.
Ship's Time
We had a lovely chat with our favorite waitress in the Crow's Nest about Ship's Time. As she explained it, Ship's Time is whatever the Captain says it is. And the clocks are changed whenever he says they are. When traveling eastbound, to allow the crew a full night's rest, we've moved the clocks ahead at 2 pm. Makes no never mind to the passengers. Going westbound the clocks fall back at 2 am so everyone gets an extra hour of sleep. There is a five hour difference between Bermuda and Western Europe, seven days travel time. He explained that he is also trying to keep sunrise and sunset at a "reasonable time." The crew loves his consideration of them and the passengers haven't missed 2-3 pm at all.
Why not fly?
One of my favorite questions to ask fellow passengers is, "Why didn't you fly to Europe?" The usual answer is, "I hate to fly and besides the fare for this crossing is cheaper than airfare." Many are also continuing on either on the Prinsendam or another ship for cruises around Norway and Great Britain and then up the Baltic. I met someone staying aboard until August! Also met a kid who just graduated from Georgia Tech traveling with his girlfriend until they fly home from Munich in July--a graduation present! He didn't have a job and didn't seem that concerned about finding one.
Which brings me to the thirty-somethings on board traveling with a parent while they are reassessing their options. Good grief! A rousing huzzah to all the grandchildren of James W Fisher who finished school and are gainfully employed.
That's Entertainment
The best show on the ship has been, hands down, The Uke Box, five Liverpool lads in their late 20s who have formed a Ukele Boy Band! As improbable as it sounds, they are trained musicians who absolutely brought the house down. They are also quite charming and adorable, catnip for all the grandmothers aboard who cannot resist telling them that they are charming and adorable. We've also enjoyed a very droll comedian who has Saturday Night Live on his list of credits, a trumpet "virtuoso", a very showy pianist and the ship's company of singers and dancers. These acts perform in the Showroom each night while a string trio, jazz quartet and piano man are playing each night in different bars and lounges. Something for everyone.
Siren song of Chantal
Ah, Chantal. She sits at the Future Cruise Desk conveniently located between the Showroom and Front Desk, pretty much the Main Street on board. She gives presentations most days about upcoming cruises, new itineraries not yet announced and waves a list of perks in front of you that are available only if you put that deposit down while on this cruise. (Cruise credits, free laundry, free Internet minutes, etc.) She printed out the itinerary for Jim for the World Cruise beginning in January of 2019 (the 2018 sold out within a month of announcement). I want to do the Singapore to Lisbon leg but not only has the cruise not been announced formally, the available segments have not either. Maybe when we're back on board in August. We were this close to booking the 68 day circumnavigation of South America beginning Jan 8th but we're going to be in California for a certain wedding March 3. A rare chance to see all of the Holdman Group in one spot. Wouldn't miss it!
Musings
Seven days at sea is a long time. This group of passengers is well-traveled so have easily adjusted to the two extra days. The newbies are a bit antsy.
Even though the Prinsendam is small it still has the usual roster of activities, exercise classes, ping pong and shuffleboard, bridge, Mah Jongg, movies, Casino tournaments, trivia contests and, of course, Bingo. The three lecturers have each given at least half a dozen presentations and the "Digital Host" teaches three or four classes a day on computery stuff. Jim has read six or so books so far, including a couple off the Tuscany reading list. I read the intros to those and then busied myself working my way through the Mary Higgins Clark oeuvre in the library. I figure I'll have time in the Amsterdam airport and then on the flight to Rome to skim the highlights of the Italian stuff. Old academic habits die hard.
Ship's Time
We had a lovely chat with our favorite waitress in the Crow's Nest about Ship's Time. As she explained it, Ship's Time is whatever the Captain says it is. And the clocks are changed whenever he says they are. When traveling eastbound, to allow the crew a full night's rest, we've moved the clocks ahead at 2 pm. Makes no never mind to the passengers. Going westbound the clocks fall back at 2 am so everyone gets an extra hour of sleep. There is a five hour difference between Bermuda and Western Europe, seven days travel time. He explained that he is also trying to keep sunrise and sunset at a "reasonable time." The crew loves his consideration of them and the passengers haven't missed 2-3 pm at all.
Why not fly?
One of my favorite questions to ask fellow passengers is, "Why didn't you fly to Europe?" The usual answer is, "I hate to fly and besides the fare for this crossing is cheaper than airfare." Many are also continuing on either on the Prinsendam or another ship for cruises around Norway and Great Britain and then up the Baltic. I met someone staying aboard until August! Also met a kid who just graduated from Georgia Tech traveling with his girlfriend until they fly home from Munich in July--a graduation present! He didn't have a job and didn't seem that concerned about finding one.
Which brings me to the thirty-somethings on board traveling with a parent while they are reassessing their options. Good grief! A rousing huzzah to all the grandchildren of James W Fisher who finished school and are gainfully employed.
That's Entertainment
The best show on the ship has been, hands down, The Uke Box, five Liverpool lads in their late 20s who have formed a Ukele Boy Band! As improbable as it sounds, they are trained musicians who absolutely brought the house down. They are also quite charming and adorable, catnip for all the grandmothers aboard who cannot resist telling them that they are charming and adorable. We've also enjoyed a very droll comedian who has Saturday Night Live on his list of credits, a trumpet "virtuoso", a very showy pianist and the ship's company of singers and dancers. These acts perform in the Showroom each night while a string trio, jazz quartet and piano man are playing each night in different bars and lounges. Something for everyone.
Siren song of Chantal
Ah, Chantal. She sits at the Future Cruise Desk conveniently located between the Showroom and Front Desk, pretty much the Main Street on board. She gives presentations most days about upcoming cruises, new itineraries not yet announced and waves a list of perks in front of you that are available only if you put that deposit down while on this cruise. (Cruise credits, free laundry, free Internet minutes, etc.) She printed out the itinerary for Jim for the World Cruise beginning in January of 2019 (the 2018 sold out within a month of announcement). I want to do the Singapore to Lisbon leg but not only has the cruise not been announced formally, the available segments have not either. Maybe when we're back on board in August. We were this close to booking the 68 day circumnavigation of South America beginning Jan 8th but we're going to be in California for a certain wedding March 3. A rare chance to see all of the Holdman Group in one spot. Wouldn't miss it!
Quimper, May 17, 2017
Quimper, May 17, 2017
We docked in Brest early this morning, our alternate port to Horta in The Azores. Brest is a HUGE harbor on the northwest tip of France. The city was leveled by the Allies prior to the Normandy Invasion in WWII so everything is new, well, 60+ years old which in the Old Country might as well be last week.
The Shore Excursion department scrambled to line up a few outings plus a shuttle to town. Because it is a commercial port, passengers can't just walk off the ship and then wander about. Security dockside isn't exactly air tight, but it is there.
We were met with cool temperatures and a constant light rain as we boarded our bus for the one hour drive to Quimper (kam-pare) that is far enough away from the port to have been spared bombing during the war. Our charming French guide, Nathalie led us through the cobblestone streets to the 13th century cathedral in the center of the oldest part of town. And what a nifty town it is! It's far enough off the usual tourist track that the town is actually a town for the residents with shops they use. Not a Diamond International or Del Sol T-Shirt store to be found.
This is Brittany famous for crepes and butter. They still speak Breton although French is the primary language. All the street signs are in French and Breton which is pretty indecipherable. Nathalie confirmed that. She told us that children are taught French in schools with Breton left to the older generations. She said her parents would speak in Breton when they didn't want her to understand.
It rains a lot in this part of France which means the countryside is very green and lush, very nice for the cows plus the Chesnut trees, hydrangeas and rhododendron which were all in bloom. All in all, despite the rain, a nice day.
We docked in Brest early this morning, our alternate port to Horta in The Azores. Brest is a HUGE harbor on the northwest tip of France. The city was leveled by the Allies prior to the Normandy Invasion in WWII so everything is new, well, 60+ years old which in the Old Country might as well be last week.
The Shore Excursion department scrambled to line up a few outings plus a shuttle to town. Because it is a commercial port, passengers can't just walk off the ship and then wander about. Security dockside isn't exactly air tight, but it is there.
We were met with cool temperatures and a constant light rain as we boarded our bus for the one hour drive to Quimper (kam-pare) that is far enough away from the port to have been spared bombing during the war. Our charming French guide, Nathalie led us through the cobblestone streets to the 13th century cathedral in the center of the oldest part of town. And what a nifty town it is! It's far enough off the usual tourist track that the town is actually a town for the residents with shops they use. Not a Diamond International or Del Sol T-Shirt store to be found.
This is Brittany famous for crepes and butter. They still speak Breton although French is the primary language. All the street signs are in French and Breton which is pretty indecipherable. Nathalie confirmed that. She told us that children are taught French in schools with Breton left to the older generations. She said her parents would speak in Breton when they didn't want her to understand.
It rains a lot in this part of France which means the countryside is very green and lush, very nice for the cows plus the Chesnut trees, hydrangeas and rhododendron which were all in bloom. All in all, despite the rain, a nice day.
Friday, May 12, 2017
This is the Captain.
At Sea, May 12, 2017
"This is the Captain. I have an important announcement."
It started out as a quiet day at sea. After breakfast I joined the other knitters and needlers up in the Crow's Nest to stitch and chat until it was time to go down three flights for "Ask the Captain." Once during most cruises, the Captain sets aside 30 minutes to answer questions from the passengers. It is always amazing, and comforting, to hear him answer queries about everything from technical to silly. And, as always, his number one job is to keep everyone safe and happy.
Someone complimented him on the smooth docking in some pretty tight quarters. The ship doesn't pull into the dock like a car into a parking place. Rather it pulls up parallel to the dock and then, using the thruster (learned that puppy has a 360 degree range) the ship slowly moves to the dock, still parallel, until the lines are secured. It really is an impressive demonstration of seamanship. He said the wind was the biggest problem. The dividers separating the stateroom verandas act like a multitude of little sails catching the wind and pushing the stern away from the dock. We've been on cruises when the wind is so strong coming straight at the ship that it bests the thruster making landing impossible.
This all comes into play later during lunchtime.
Yesterday was a bit gray with occasional showers but still in the high 60s. Woke up to the same this morning but the Promenade Deck was open for walking or deck chair sitting so no big deal. During the morning Q & A the Captain had mentioned that there was a low behind us and we were running close to 20 knots to stay ahead of it. Not two hours later the ding dong ding of the announcement bell rang and instead of the usual chirpy voice of V the cruise director we heard, "This is the Captain. I have an important announcement." Uh oh.
Evidently when he returned to the bridge he learned that the weather was worsening. The seas would be 2-1/2 to 3 meters high and of more concern to him, the winds would be reaching gale force. He explained that landing at Horta in the Azores would be way too dangerous so he secured a berth for us in a port in northern France on May 17th and had already altered our course. This means that we will steam past Horta and will now have seven sea days between Bermuda and our next stop. This also means that rather than a relaxing day on Sunday when most of the passengers are ashore, the Location Crew is now feverishly cancelling and refunding money for Horta shore excursions and setting up a menu of excursions for the substitute port. I think it's Brest, but I'm not sure.
The reaction amongst the passengers was pretty much, Meh. There wasn't that much to see and do in Horta anyway other than free wifi in the terminal. Probably the only disappointed person is Dr. Stuart, our Geologist on board. His scheduled talk this afternoon is, "Fire and Brimstone - The Origin of the Azores and the Myth of the Atlantis." The Azores are part of the Mid Atlantic Ridge, an underwater mountain range. Let me tell you, Dr. S was some kind of excited to be crossing that ridge and visiting one of the islands formed by volcanic eruption millions of years ago. Some say that the Azores could be the Lost City of Atlantis. I'm pretty sure that as a scientist he's going to debunk that but I could be wrong. Yesterday he had some pretty convincing scientific evidence that could prove the theory that life on Earth came from Mars as bacteria on a meteorite a bazillion years ago.
Tonight is the second Gala Night. Usually when the ship's itinerary is abruptly changed the Captain provides the wine at dinner to console the disappointed passengers. Remember, his Number One job is to keep us A) Safe and B) Happy. Altered Course = Safe; Complimentary Wine = Happy.
"This is the Captain. I have an important announcement."
It started out as a quiet day at sea. After breakfast I joined the other knitters and needlers up in the Crow's Nest to stitch and chat until it was time to go down three flights for "Ask the Captain." Once during most cruises, the Captain sets aside 30 minutes to answer questions from the passengers. It is always amazing, and comforting, to hear him answer queries about everything from technical to silly. And, as always, his number one job is to keep everyone safe and happy.
Someone complimented him on the smooth docking in some pretty tight quarters. The ship doesn't pull into the dock like a car into a parking place. Rather it pulls up parallel to the dock and then, using the thruster (learned that puppy has a 360 degree range) the ship slowly moves to the dock, still parallel, until the lines are secured. It really is an impressive demonstration of seamanship. He said the wind was the biggest problem. The dividers separating the stateroom verandas act like a multitude of little sails catching the wind and pushing the stern away from the dock. We've been on cruises when the wind is so strong coming straight at the ship that it bests the thruster making landing impossible.
This all comes into play later during lunchtime.
Yesterday was a bit gray with occasional showers but still in the high 60s. Woke up to the same this morning but the Promenade Deck was open for walking or deck chair sitting so no big deal. During the morning Q & A the Captain had mentioned that there was a low behind us and we were running close to 20 knots to stay ahead of it. Not two hours later the ding dong ding of the announcement bell rang and instead of the usual chirpy voice of V the cruise director we heard, "This is the Captain. I have an important announcement." Uh oh.
Evidently when he returned to the bridge he learned that the weather was worsening. The seas would be 2-1/2 to 3 meters high and of more concern to him, the winds would be reaching gale force. He explained that landing at Horta in the Azores would be way too dangerous so he secured a berth for us in a port in northern France on May 17th and had already altered our course. This means that we will steam past Horta and will now have seven sea days between Bermuda and our next stop. This also means that rather than a relaxing day on Sunday when most of the passengers are ashore, the Location Crew is now feverishly cancelling and refunding money for Horta shore excursions and setting up a menu of excursions for the substitute port. I think it's Brest, but I'm not sure.
The reaction amongst the passengers was pretty much, Meh. There wasn't that much to see and do in Horta anyway other than free wifi in the terminal. Probably the only disappointed person is Dr. Stuart, our Geologist on board. His scheduled talk this afternoon is, "Fire and Brimstone - The Origin of the Azores and the Myth of the Atlantis." The Azores are part of the Mid Atlantic Ridge, an underwater mountain range. Let me tell you, Dr. S was some kind of excited to be crossing that ridge and visiting one of the islands formed by volcanic eruption millions of years ago. Some say that the Azores could be the Lost City of Atlantis. I'm pretty sure that as a scientist he's going to debunk that but I could be wrong. Yesterday he had some pretty convincing scientific evidence that could prove the theory that life on Earth came from Mars as bacteria on a meteorite a bazillion years ago.
Tonight is the second Gala Night. Usually when the ship's itinerary is abruptly changed the Captain provides the wine at dinner to console the disappointed passengers. Remember, his Number One job is to keep us A) Safe and B) Happy. Altered Course = Safe; Complimentary Wine = Happy.
Thursday, May 11, 2017
She broke my heart
At sea, May 10, 2017
"She broke my heart."
We left Hamilton 5-ish on Tuesday afternoon with the usual sonorous blasts of that deep, deep horn. The route goes parallel to the shore for a while giving me a chance to window shop as it were, trying to decide which house I would choose. The island is hilly, not mountainous, but definitely not flat, so the buildings cascade down to the water, all pastel with those white, white roofs. The stuff dreams are made of.
Ordinarily after the we're leaving tooooooot, toooooooot, toooooooot, that's it for the horn but as we were majestically heading across the HUGE bay towards open water, the triple toot sounded again and a couple of 30 foot or so boats under sail quickly tacked and got out of the way. Then more toots to encourage the kids in a dozen little sailboats to change direction, like NOW. And they did. However the three of the America's Cup contenders out practically flew across the water ahead of us. Quite the nautical send off.
Jaya from the dining room, our former busboy, has taken it upon himself to personally supervise our meal service at dinner. Previously we knew him as Dewa so tonight I asked why the name change and he tried his best to explain child naming in Indonesia with many lists and diagrams to illustrate. If I understood correctly, in each class there are four names for boys and four for girls. The first born is always named Name #1, second born gets Name #2, and so on. This means that all the Indonesians in the crew are called by one of those names. Needless to say, chaos would ensue so he was called by his surname, Dewa. And now he's Jaya.
Then we caught up on each other's lives. Seems Jaya had a serious girlfriend in Indonesia but the long distance thing didn't work for her. The crew are all on contracts lasting many months. It's common to move from ship to ship so they could be away from home for a year or more. In his case absence did not make the heart grow fonder. He found it harder and harder to reach her (technology makes these long absences a bit easier--email, FaceTime, Skype--to stay in touch with family back home) and when he finally returned home she had married someone else. Thus "She broke my heart."
But there is a happy ending to this tale. While home he stepped on something sharp playing soccer so went to the hospital where his injury was tended to by a lovely nurse practitioner. You guessed it. Like a "Cute Meet Rom Com" they're getting married in October!
"She broke my heart."
We left Hamilton 5-ish on Tuesday afternoon with the usual sonorous blasts of that deep, deep horn. The route goes parallel to the shore for a while giving me a chance to window shop as it were, trying to decide which house I would choose. The island is hilly, not mountainous, but definitely not flat, so the buildings cascade down to the water, all pastel with those white, white roofs. The stuff dreams are made of.
Ordinarily after the we're leaving tooooooot, toooooooot, toooooooot, that's it for the horn but as we were majestically heading across the HUGE bay towards open water, the triple toot sounded again and a couple of 30 foot or so boats under sail quickly tacked and got out of the way. Then more toots to encourage the kids in a dozen little sailboats to change direction, like NOW. And they did. However the three of the America's Cup contenders out practically flew across the water ahead of us. Quite the nautical send off.
Jaya from the dining room, our former busboy, has taken it upon himself to personally supervise our meal service at dinner. Previously we knew him as Dewa so tonight I asked why the name change and he tried his best to explain child naming in Indonesia with many lists and diagrams to illustrate. If I understood correctly, in each class there are four names for boys and four for girls. The first born is always named Name #1, second born gets Name #2, and so on. This means that all the Indonesians in the crew are called by one of those names. Needless to say, chaos would ensue so he was called by his surname, Dewa. And now he's Jaya.
Then we caught up on each other's lives. Seems Jaya had a serious girlfriend in Indonesia but the long distance thing didn't work for her. The crew are all on contracts lasting many months. It's common to move from ship to ship so they could be away from home for a year or more. In his case absence did not make the heart grow fonder. He found it harder and harder to reach her (technology makes these long absences a bit easier--email, FaceTime, Skype--to stay in touch with family back home) and when he finally returned home she had married someone else. Thus "She broke my heart."
But there is a happy ending to this tale. While home he stepped on something sharp playing soccer so went to the hospital where his injury was tended to by a lovely nurse practitioner. You guessed it. Like a "Cute Meet Rom Com" they're getting married in October!
Tuesday, May 9, 2017
Bermuda
May 9, 2017 Bermuda
We docked at Front Street in Hamilton this morning. Sunny, low 70s and low humidity.
Last night a group of women at the next table were planning their day on the island. We overheard much discussion about pink buses and blue buses, ferries and taxis. There are no rental cars, only scooters plus they drive on the wrong side of the road. Since I can't figure out which way to look before crossing the street in any wrong side of the road country, driving anything was out of the question. We opted for the Highlights of Bermuda tour.
Bermuda is 21 square miles with a population of 65,000. It's very clean and tidy with beautiful pastel painted houses. The roofs are steep and terraced made of slate coated with lime to reflect the heat. Downspouts capture any rainwater and feed it into huge cisterns (thousands of gallons) built under every house and building. The locals pride themselves on being courteous and polite to visitors.
Our tour group was just 20 people on a little bus. Three guesses who ended up in the back. We covered what seemed like every inch of the island, north, south, east and west. I thought we were going to stop at the botanical gardens but our guide, Winston, was so excited about the upcoming America's Cup competition ("Our Cup. Our Island") that we spent the allotted garden time stopping here and there to watch the boats out practicing. They actually reclaimed land near the Dockyard area and built a huge complex of docks and cavernous warehouses for all the boats and paraphernalia for each participating country. These boats are f.a.s.t. We watched them idling about and then suddenly the sails were trimmed (Winston says the hand operated grinders are now pedal powered. I envision a life or death spin class.) and the boat would just take off, flying across the water leaving a phalanx of chase boats and jet skis doing their best to keep up.
There are countdown clocks here and there on the island. 17+ days until the real competition begins. In another harbor the Tall Ships are beginning to arrive. The transient yachts (sort of floating snowbirds that follow the sun) are docked or moored, prepared to spend an extra month here to enjoy it all before heading north to the US or east to the Meditrranean. It seems there are countless harbors (harbours?) and coves each filled with every imaginable craft. Winston has already begun to plan an America's Cup Cricket Week End House Partty. We're all invited.
I've never seen so many beautiful beaches with water so clear you can see fish swimming in the coves from the road. I didn't think the sand looked pink, but if they say it's pink why burst that bubble. The island was formed millions of years ago by two volcanoes that have since collapsed and retreated under the water leaving the coastline protected by reefs. Two immense round bays are in what were the the craters of those long ago volcanoes. The guest speaker on board is an animated and enthusiastic professor of geology from the University of British Columbia. While he did his graduate studies in some wet and bleak part of the U.K., one of his colleagues spent six arduous years studying the geology of Bermuda. He readily admitted if he had it to do over again.... Since he'd read his friend's dissertation he thought he'd spend his day here tracing the origin of the Dark & Stormy and, if time and liver allowed it, the Rum Swizzle, too. All in the interest of advancing man's knowledge.
I must confess that, once again, I did not avail myself of the opportunity to watch the pilot arrive at 6 am to guide the ship on the two hour trip to the dock. I'm figuring one way in, one way out so I'll observe the reverse trip when we leave later this afternoon.
Once again the Prinsendam's relatively small size allows us to dock right in downtown Hamilton, quite literally along the main drag. The behemoths are parked way, way far away. We spotted a couple of them when we were out and about today.
4:30 pm. Everyone is on board, the deep, chest rattling horn has been sounded and we're beginning the departure. I'd definitely come back here. Lots of gorgeous golf courses on the island so I wouldn't have to twist Jim's arm very hard.
We're now heading across the Atlantic to the Azores, four sea days. Our idyllic weather might be changing a bit, too. The temperature will still be about 70, but a good chance of showers and higher seas, going from one meter to two, which is still quite tolerable.
Time to stop and send this while the wifi signal is still strong.
We docked at Front Street in Hamilton this morning. Sunny, low 70s and low humidity.
Last night a group of women at the next table were planning their day on the island. We overheard much discussion about pink buses and blue buses, ferries and taxis. There are no rental cars, only scooters plus they drive on the wrong side of the road. Since I can't figure out which way to look before crossing the street in any wrong side of the road country, driving anything was out of the question. We opted for the Highlights of Bermuda tour.
Bermuda is 21 square miles with a population of 65,000. It's very clean and tidy with beautiful pastel painted houses. The roofs are steep and terraced made of slate coated with lime to reflect the heat. Downspouts capture any rainwater and feed it into huge cisterns (thousands of gallons) built under every house and building. The locals pride themselves on being courteous and polite to visitors.
Our tour group was just 20 people on a little bus. Three guesses who ended up in the back. We covered what seemed like every inch of the island, north, south, east and west. I thought we were going to stop at the botanical gardens but our guide, Winston, was so excited about the upcoming America's Cup competition ("Our Cup. Our Island") that we spent the allotted garden time stopping here and there to watch the boats out practicing. They actually reclaimed land near the Dockyard area and built a huge complex of docks and cavernous warehouses for all the boats and paraphernalia for each participating country. These boats are f.a.s.t. We watched them idling about and then suddenly the sails were trimmed (Winston says the hand operated grinders are now pedal powered. I envision a life or death spin class.) and the boat would just take off, flying across the water leaving a phalanx of chase boats and jet skis doing their best to keep up.
There are countdown clocks here and there on the island. 17+ days until the real competition begins. In another harbor the Tall Ships are beginning to arrive. The transient yachts (sort of floating snowbirds that follow the sun) are docked or moored, prepared to spend an extra month here to enjoy it all before heading north to the US or east to the Meditrranean. It seems there are countless harbors (harbours?) and coves each filled with every imaginable craft. Winston has already begun to plan an America's Cup Cricket Week End House Partty. We're all invited.
I've never seen so many beautiful beaches with water so clear you can see fish swimming in the coves from the road. I didn't think the sand looked pink, but if they say it's pink why burst that bubble. The island was formed millions of years ago by two volcanoes that have since collapsed and retreated under the water leaving the coastline protected by reefs. Two immense round bays are in what were the the craters of those long ago volcanoes. The guest speaker on board is an animated and enthusiastic professor of geology from the University of British Columbia. While he did his graduate studies in some wet and bleak part of the U.K., one of his colleagues spent six arduous years studying the geology of Bermuda. He readily admitted if he had it to do over again.... Since he'd read his friend's dissertation he thought he'd spend his day here tracing the origin of the Dark & Stormy and, if time and liver allowed it, the Rum Swizzle, too. All in the interest of advancing man's knowledge.
I must confess that, once again, I did not avail myself of the opportunity to watch the pilot arrive at 6 am to guide the ship on the two hour trip to the dock. I'm figuring one way in, one way out so I'll observe the reverse trip when we leave later this afternoon.
Once again the Prinsendam's relatively small size allows us to dock right in downtown Hamilton, quite literally along the main drag. The behemoths are parked way, way far away. We spotted a couple of them when we were out and about today.
4:30 pm. Everyone is on board, the deep, chest rattling horn has been sounded and we're beginning the departure. I'd definitely come back here. Lots of gorgeous golf courses on the island so I wouldn't have to twist Jim's arm very hard.
We're now heading across the Atlantic to the Azores, four sea days. Our idyllic weather might be changing a bit, too. The temperature will still be about 70, but a good chance of showers and higher seas, going from one meter to two, which is still quite tolerable.
Time to stop and send this while the wifi signal is still strong.
Tomorrow there will be no 2 o'clock.
May 6 - 8, 2017, At sea from Fort Lauderdale to Bermuda
"Tomorrow there will be no 2 o'clock."
We had a very uneventful journey from Kennesaw to the Prinsendam. It bodes well for the trip when we AND luggage arrive at the same place at the same time.
The Prinsendam is the smallest of the Holland America ships, only 793 passengers. It's been refitted, fluffed and buffed since we were last aboard in 2011. Fortunately the powers that be did not go for flashy but rather just enhanced the old school elegance. The time of year, size of ship and amenities on board are ever so popular with a certain mature demographic. No zip lines, water slides or rock climbing for this crowd. As one woman said to me, "I used to call them elderly until I realized I was now them!" Let me just say that the cane count is high. But it's a spunky , well-traveled group from here, there and everywhere.
We walked into the dining room the first night and ran smack into our busboy from the World Cruise in 2013, now a manager in the DR. If a passenger tells any crew member, "We've sailed together before" the crew member ALways says, "Oh, yes, I remember you well." Yeah, right. But this guy wasn't faking it. He asked "Mr. Jim" if he still drank a double bourbon on A rock. Evidently he remembered as lowly busboy about three weeks into that World Cruise being sent to search every bar, cupboard and closet for another bottle of Wild Turkey for Mr. Jim and then drawing the short straw and getting to tell Mr. Jim there was none left on the ship. The poor kid was quaking in his boots until Mr. Jim assured him that anything bottled in Kentucky would do. You betcha he remembered Mr. Jim!
The ship was scheduled to leave the Port Everglades cruise port (so conveniently located a rock's throw from the Fort Lauderdale airport) at 11 pm, our first ever night time departure. The captain announced that as soon as all passengers and crew were aboard we would cast off, so we actually pulled away from the dock around 10:20 with calm seas, balmy temperatures and the moon above.
Bermuda is a couple of sea days away. As I write this it's midday on Monday, the second sea day. The weather has been delightful, the seas fairly calm and the service top notch. With only 793 passengers (sold out cruise), you've but to ask someone with a name tag and your bidding is done. On the first night the water in our shower came out everywhere BUT the shower head. A call to the front desk brought an engineer within minutes who installed the missing do-hickey in seconds. Oh, that there was a "Guest Services" button on the phone at home.
We've had very companionable dining companions so far. If offered we choose "open seating" rather than fixed so we can meet more people. I sat next to a couple from Mission Viejo at breakfast. Turns out she is also an alum of Harbor High, but before my time. She lived in Costa Mesa back then so sort of bristled when she found out I lived in Newport. Old vestiges of the haves and have nots. I assured her I wasn't a Lido Isle kid (Big time "haves') but rather a Balboa Peninsula kid. It may be the land of the one percenters now, but in the 50s and 60s it certainly wasn't! We parted amicably.
Everyone seemed to spend the first sea day wandering around, scouting for the perfect activity or alternately a spot to do as little as possible. Jim made a bee line for the Explorers Lounge with the very comfy chairs with window views across the Promenade deck and the walkers to the seas beyond. I've still got a bit of wanderlust which is 90% accountable to my complete lack of a sense of direction. Trust me, on a ship this size you really have to work to get lost!
Last night was the first of three Gala Nights. HAL has ditched the term "Formal." They request that men wear a collared shirt and perhaps a jacket and ladies more cocktail than prom. Jim left his black Marrying and Burying suit at home in favor of a classic navy blue blazer, shirt, tie and khakis and blended right in. There are still some guys opting for tuxes or dinner jackets. I'd say that most of the women took the opportunity to wear something sparkly. One couple at our table was years younger than the rest of the crowd. They both worked in the Assisted Living field. A business trip? Research?
And last night was also the first performance by the house singers and dancers. (I'd met one of the singers that day at lunch when he was demonstrating how to put all your salad bar choices in one bowl, add dressing, then top with another bowl and shake. Just as I was about to say, "How clever of you," the top bowl slipped and the salad went flying just as one of the chefs walked by. If looks could kill...) The show was 45 minutes of covers of various tunes by British artists from the Beatles to Adele. The cast was energetic and sang on key. What more could you ask?
At the end of the show the vivacious cruise director, V, announced, "Tomorrow there will be no 2 o'clock." Huh? Some kind of Bermuda Triangle thing? Evidently tomorrow we would be setting the clocks forward, not in the middle of the night but at 2 pm. It's now tomorrow at 1 pm. One hour to go. Should be interesting.
"Tomorrow there will be no 2 o'clock."
We had a very uneventful journey from Kennesaw to the Prinsendam. It bodes well for the trip when we AND luggage arrive at the same place at the same time.
The Prinsendam is the smallest of the Holland America ships, only 793 passengers. It's been refitted, fluffed and buffed since we were last aboard in 2011. Fortunately the powers that be did not go for flashy but rather just enhanced the old school elegance. The time of year, size of ship and amenities on board are ever so popular with a certain mature demographic. No zip lines, water slides or rock climbing for this crowd. As one woman said to me, "I used to call them elderly until I realized I was now them!" Let me just say that the cane count is high. But it's a spunky , well-traveled group from here, there and everywhere.
We walked into the dining room the first night and ran smack into our busboy from the World Cruise in 2013, now a manager in the DR. If a passenger tells any crew member, "We've sailed together before" the crew member ALways says, "Oh, yes, I remember you well." Yeah, right. But this guy wasn't faking it. He asked "Mr. Jim" if he still drank a double bourbon on A rock. Evidently he remembered as lowly busboy about three weeks into that World Cruise being sent to search every bar, cupboard and closet for another bottle of Wild Turkey for Mr. Jim and then drawing the short straw and getting to tell Mr. Jim there was none left on the ship. The poor kid was quaking in his boots until Mr. Jim assured him that anything bottled in Kentucky would do. You betcha he remembered Mr. Jim!
The ship was scheduled to leave the Port Everglades cruise port (so conveniently located a rock's throw from the Fort Lauderdale airport) at 11 pm, our first ever night time departure. The captain announced that as soon as all passengers and crew were aboard we would cast off, so we actually pulled away from the dock around 10:20 with calm seas, balmy temperatures and the moon above.
Bermuda is a couple of sea days away. As I write this it's midday on Monday, the second sea day. The weather has been delightful, the seas fairly calm and the service top notch. With only 793 passengers (sold out cruise), you've but to ask someone with a name tag and your bidding is done. On the first night the water in our shower came out everywhere BUT the shower head. A call to the front desk brought an engineer within minutes who installed the missing do-hickey in seconds. Oh, that there was a "Guest Services" button on the phone at home.
We've had very companionable dining companions so far. If offered we choose "open seating" rather than fixed so we can meet more people. I sat next to a couple from Mission Viejo at breakfast. Turns out she is also an alum of Harbor High, but before my time. She lived in Costa Mesa back then so sort of bristled when she found out I lived in Newport. Old vestiges of the haves and have nots. I assured her I wasn't a Lido Isle kid (Big time "haves') but rather a Balboa Peninsula kid. It may be the land of the one percenters now, but in the 50s and 60s it certainly wasn't! We parted amicably.
Everyone seemed to spend the first sea day wandering around, scouting for the perfect activity or alternately a spot to do as little as possible. Jim made a bee line for the Explorers Lounge with the very comfy chairs with window views across the Promenade deck and the walkers to the seas beyond. I've still got a bit of wanderlust which is 90% accountable to my complete lack of a sense of direction. Trust me, on a ship this size you really have to work to get lost!
Last night was the first of three Gala Nights. HAL has ditched the term "Formal." They request that men wear a collared shirt and perhaps a jacket and ladies more cocktail than prom. Jim left his black Marrying and Burying suit at home in favor of a classic navy blue blazer, shirt, tie and khakis and blended right in. There are still some guys opting for tuxes or dinner jackets. I'd say that most of the women took the opportunity to wear something sparkly. One couple at our table was years younger than the rest of the crowd. They both worked in the Assisted Living field. A business trip? Research?
And last night was also the first performance by the house singers and dancers. (I'd met one of the singers that day at lunch when he was demonstrating how to put all your salad bar choices in one bowl, add dressing, then top with another bowl and shake. Just as I was about to say, "How clever of you," the top bowl slipped and the salad went flying just as one of the chefs walked by. If looks could kill...) The show was 45 minutes of covers of various tunes by British artists from the Beatles to Adele. The cast was energetic and sang on key. What more could you ask?
At the end of the show the vivacious cruise director, V, announced, "Tomorrow there will be no 2 o'clock." Huh? Some kind of Bermuda Triangle thing? Evidently tomorrow we would be setting the clocks forward, not in the middle of the night but at 2 pm. It's now tomorrow at 1 pm. One hour to go. Should be interesting.
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