Portree, Isle of Skye, Scotland, August 26, 2017
What a difference a day makes. We glided on glassy seas escorted by porpoises to the anchorage near the picturesque town of Portree arriving around 9:30 or so. Boarding the tenders was an easy operation compared to yesterday.
The population of the island is 12,000 but it was a lovely Saturday in August so I wouldn't be surprised if the visitors outnumbered the residents. We were the only ship in port but the island is reachable by bridge and ferry so is a popular destination. Every hotel and B & B had a "no vacancy" sign posted.
The island is beautiful, a combination of hills and valleys and mountains in the 2,000'+ range. What isn't a rich green is a pinkish purple as the heather is in full bloom. And sheep! When we first arrived I saw little white dots on the hills surrounding the harbor, grabbed the binoculars and confirmed they were indeed sheep. Not great flocks crowded together but spread far apart. It was so quiet that I could hear baaaaa baaaaa coming across the water.
We went on an excursion that took us to the northwest corner of the island and Dunvegan Castle, the home of the Chiefs of the MacLeods for nearly 800 years and still the family home. It looks like a castle should, perched high overlooking the Loch Dunvegan, surrounded by woodlands and gardens. It's yet another case of the Gulf Stream currents keeping the climate quite temperate as evidenced by the fuchias and hydrangeas in full bloom. We walked through a couple of floors of the castle, the walls covered with portraits of the clan Chiefs through the centuries proudly wearing the "loud" MacLeod plaid, the same bright yellow, black and red tartan adopted by our son Jay's alma mater the College of Wooster in Ohio. I told the woman in the gift shop that and she was tickled. Her eyes got very wide and she said, "Really?," and then told me what a delightful people Americans were.
We took the long way back to Portree along the western edge of the island. All the houses seem to be made of stone or cement blocks then coated with white plaster. Most of the houses are spread all over the hills with the occasional cluster in a tiny village. All the roads are two lane with the two traffic lights in Portree. And sheep, sheep, sheep scattered as far as the eye can see. Our guide, Chris, calls them "wooly maggots." He was trained as a biologist and had worked at various times during the 39 years he's lived on the island as a tree farmer. Once again an effort is being made to reforest Skye but it's successful only when the forests are fenced off. The sheep eat anything green.
The terrain is a result of volcanic action followed by glaciers. Despite the sun during our visit they get a lot of mist and rain which keeps it all so green. And the heather! August is the bloom month so the rounded hilltops are covered with purple mounds. There is a lot of fish farming (North Atlantic Salmon), scallop farming and oyster farming in the seas surrounding the island. When we walked through Portree to the pier you could smell fish and chips in the air. By that time we had spent all of our English pounds save a single penny coin so none for us. A HUGE cocoa brown Newfoundland dog seemed to occupy half of the pier. It was obviously his pier so everyone just stepped around him (he was much too big to step over!) to reach the tender back to the ship. Love me some quirky.
And speaking of, Chris told us all about the bridge that was built to connect Skye to the mainland. He grumbled that it was the government's first experiment with private funding of public projects which resulted in a contract guaranteeing the building company both bridge tolls and the elimination of the ferries there. Evidently the toll was the highest in Europe which didn't sit well with the islanders so they would take turns crossing the bridge and then refusing to pay the toll. It wasn't a criminal act so instead of being arrested the police would issue a ticket resulting in a fine which would also go unpaid. Chris said that eventually 80 of them were summoned to a court in Inverness (once again crossing the bridge and refusing to pay the toll) where the magistrate was not at all amused by the rowdy group that sang songs and generally wreaked havoc in his court. Sooooo they all received fines ranging from 200 pounds and up. Fines they ignored of course. Eventually the government capitulated and eliminated both fines and the bridge tolls. Chris said the problem remains that they all now have a criminal record and as such cannot enter the US but "Canada doesn't seem to care and in Australia we're practically royalty."
Jim and I both agreed that we wouldn't mind returning to Skye and staying longer.
Saturday, August 26, 2017
Friday, August 25, 2017
Douglas, Isle of Man, August 25, 2017
Douglas, Isle of Man, August 25, 2017
We left Liverpool last night a bit later than the posted 11 pm. The tides are so extreme and currents so strong that ship movement is dependent on the conditions. The captain told us he'd have to average 20 knots to meet our scheduled 8 am arrival time at the Isle of Man.
The ship arrived as intended but then things got a bit sticky. Douglas is a tender port. It's a big bay but wide open to the sea. The first group of passengers was loaded onto the first tender soon after 8 but as we learned later that night from our dinner companions who were on that first tender, they were bouncing around on that tender as the captain and others were determining if it was safe enough to take them to shore. That tender went but then operations were put on hold while the crew prepared a second tender stairway down to the loading platform on the other side of the ship. Depending on seas and currents we would leave either from the port or starboard side. Now that's something new to me.
The worker bees in the Shore Excursion department are young, efficient and charming so they kept us all informed and amused as we all waited patiently in the big Showroom until the tenders were ready. They took 80 or so at a time from ship to shore. We were supposed to leave at 8:30 but were delayed until about 10. It was a rocking and rolling ride to the pier and then another steep climb up yet another steep ramp (low tide again) where a group of Manx representatives were there to greet us. (Yes, the Isle of Man is home to the Manx cat!) We rode on a shiny new double decker bus along the shoreline promenade (beautiful flowers the whole three miles) to the Manx Electric Train station.
After yesterday's disappointing steam train trip we weren't very optimistic about the electric train but it was great fun. We clambered aboard cars that still depend on the original Victorian and Edwardian technology (124 years old this year) for the thirty minute trip up to the town of Laxey. Then we transferred to the Snaefell Mountain Railway, the only electric mountain railway in the British Isles. It's also well over 100 years old. We climbed up to the 2,036 foot summit of Snaefell, stopping motor vehicle cross traffic along the way. The summit is the highest point on the island and for our visit was swallowed up by low hanging clouds to we didn't get to see the six kingdoms visible from the peak. And then it was back down to the Laxey station and back on our bus for the ride back to town.
Every June a wild and wooly motorcycle race is held on the streets of the Isle of Man. The roads are narrow and curvy and have claimed more than one victim. The Island was full of motorcycles and I mean FULL of motorcycles. Did I hear 20,000? The first day of racing of vintage bikes was to begin the next day. The course was set up with barricades and big bales of hay to cushion the drivers in the inevitable crashes. We even saw a phone booth wrapped in bubble wrap! Everywhere we saw motorcycles parked and at the ready. The course would be opened later that afternoon for practice runs but drivers were already zooming along the roads. And thus the police presence. I can just imagine the noise when all those bikes take off. Poor sheep. They scattered when our little tram car rambled by them in the fields. They're in store for a rough week!
A fun day. The only disappointment was that all the souvenirs were geared to the race participants so no purchases. One more chance tomorrow on the Isle of Sky to unload British pounds before we head back to Iceland. Four port days in a row. We're all ready for a sea day R & R.
Funny British stand up comedian tonight. One couple ambled in maybe 15 minutes into his act and then sat near the stage. Of course he riffed with them at which point they got up, told the guy he was insulting to them and left. People! Do NOT arrive late for a comedian, sit down front and expect him NOT to notice you! The rest of the audience had a great time as did we.
We left Liverpool last night a bit later than the posted 11 pm. The tides are so extreme and currents so strong that ship movement is dependent on the conditions. The captain told us he'd have to average 20 knots to meet our scheduled 8 am arrival time at the Isle of Man.
The ship arrived as intended but then things got a bit sticky. Douglas is a tender port. It's a big bay but wide open to the sea. The first group of passengers was loaded onto the first tender soon after 8 but as we learned later that night from our dinner companions who were on that first tender, they were bouncing around on that tender as the captain and others were determining if it was safe enough to take them to shore. That tender went but then operations were put on hold while the crew prepared a second tender stairway down to the loading platform on the other side of the ship. Depending on seas and currents we would leave either from the port or starboard side. Now that's something new to me.
The worker bees in the Shore Excursion department are young, efficient and charming so they kept us all informed and amused as we all waited patiently in the big Showroom until the tenders were ready. They took 80 or so at a time from ship to shore. We were supposed to leave at 8:30 but were delayed until about 10. It was a rocking and rolling ride to the pier and then another steep climb up yet another steep ramp (low tide again) where a group of Manx representatives were there to greet us. (Yes, the Isle of Man is home to the Manx cat!) We rode on a shiny new double decker bus along the shoreline promenade (beautiful flowers the whole three miles) to the Manx Electric Train station.
After yesterday's disappointing steam train trip we weren't very optimistic about the electric train but it was great fun. We clambered aboard cars that still depend on the original Victorian and Edwardian technology (124 years old this year) for the thirty minute trip up to the town of Laxey. Then we transferred to the Snaefell Mountain Railway, the only electric mountain railway in the British Isles. It's also well over 100 years old. We climbed up to the 2,036 foot summit of Snaefell, stopping motor vehicle cross traffic along the way. The summit is the highest point on the island and for our visit was swallowed up by low hanging clouds to we didn't get to see the six kingdoms visible from the peak. And then it was back down to the Laxey station and back on our bus for the ride back to town.
Every June a wild and wooly motorcycle race is held on the streets of the Isle of Man. The roads are narrow and curvy and have claimed more than one victim. The Island was full of motorcycles and I mean FULL of motorcycles. Did I hear 20,000? The first day of racing of vintage bikes was to begin the next day. The course was set up with barricades and big bales of hay to cushion the drivers in the inevitable crashes. We even saw a phone booth wrapped in bubble wrap! Everywhere we saw motorcycles parked and at the ready. The course would be opened later that afternoon for practice runs but drivers were already zooming along the roads. And thus the police presence. I can just imagine the noise when all those bikes take off. Poor sheep. They scattered when our little tram car rambled by them in the fields. They're in store for a rough week!
A fun day. The only disappointment was that all the souvenirs were geared to the race participants so no purchases. One more chance tomorrow on the Isle of Sky to unload British pounds before we head back to Iceland. Four port days in a row. We're all ready for a sea day R & R.
Funny British stand up comedian tonight. One couple ambled in maybe 15 minutes into his act and then sat near the stage. Of course he riffed with them at which point they got up, told the guy he was insulting to them and left. People! Do NOT arrive late for a comedian, sit down front and expect him NOT to notice you! The rest of the audience had a great time as did we.
Liverpool, August 24, 2017
Liverpool, August 24, 2017
While I slept the sleep of the near dead, the ship was averaging 20+ knots to reach Liverpool by dawn's early light. We were set to leave the ship by 8 am, so when I threw open the curtains a bit before 7 there was Liverpool! We were tied to a floating dock(the tide fall is extreme, up to 30 feet, so the dock bobs up and down) with the city right in front of us and, to no one's surprise, music by the Fab Four drifting down from the cruise terminal.
This floating dock means that the angle of the gangway between ship and pier and between pier and land goes from flat at high tide to damned steep at low. We disembarked at low. The ship's gangway was manageable (they moved it from deck to deck to keep it as flat as possible) but the long, covered one from pier to land looked like a steep, uphill climb. The trick was to get momentum going and then pull yourself along by grabbing the (very substantial) bar on the side wall. My Apple Health app gave us credit for three flights of steps!
While others traced the steps of the Beatles Jim and I went to Wales!!! We were delayed leaving (waiting for the late ones per usual) and then drove two hours from the city and then across the border which, depending on who you ask, is either a sign on the highway or the river a bit farther along into Wales. It's just gorgeous; all rolling hills of the greenest grass divided by hedges into pastures of either cows or sheep. A whole lot of sheep in Wales! We powered through valleys and over hills to reach Llangollen (Add Welsh to Gaelic and Icelandic as languages impossible to learn or pronounce) and a steam locomotive that powers a little train on tracks laid in 1861 along the banks of the River Dee. Because of our late departure we were hustled from bus to train and then off we went on a pretty short ride and then off we got and back into the bus. We never did see the steam locomotive pulling the cars. The bus took us a short drive to a bustling little town jam packed with tourists. I finally asked somebody why all the people were in this particular little spot and he looked at me like I was nuts. Evidently the town was Llangollen just across the River Dee from the railroad which is quite the tourist magnet. You needed 20p to use the toilets and the keeper of the johns would accept nothing BUT 20 p. I found a Barclay's Bank (closed. Only open 2-1/2 days a week) with an ATM which gave me paper money. Then in and out of the little shops until I bought a pattern for a needlepoint Welsh dragon and got coins in change. When I dropped a couple of coins on the floor the shop owner winked at me and said, "Better grab those coins. That's three trips to the toilet right there." By then it was time to get on the bus and go to lunch. Fortunately our lunch place was just five minutes up the road and even more fortunately we were the first to arrive and thus the first to hit the bathrooms a mere five hours after we'd left the ship. I swear my molars were floating!
After lunch we went to Chirk Castle. Way back when, Edward I of England built a series of castles in Wales. Chirk was built in 1310 as a border fortress. In 1595 Thomas Myddleton bought it to create a family home. It's quite the place. On top of a hill, built around a large central courtyard with acres of gardens surrounding it. I was surprised that the castle was furnished. It was continuously occupied for 700 years (no fewer than five of the owners lost their heads for treason) and so the interiors are decorated with paintings, decorative arts and furniture spanning those centuries. It's all rather lavish and very eclectic. It also has a dungeon! And a Tower! And battlements all around the top. A man dressed as a medieval knight gathered up all the little kids and drafted them into his army complete with drum pounding, screaming contests and marching around the courtyard. The little lords and ladies were having a ball while all the adults looked on rather wishing they could join in. The army was finally dismissed and headed to the ice cream shop on the ground floor.
We wandered through the gardens separated by immense topiaries of yews. Huge swathes of lawns bordered by perennials in full bloom and roses and specimen trees. The vines climbing up the stone walls of the castle were beginning to go crimson. Outside of the castle a John Deere was cutting hay to put up for the winter. Lots of sheep to feed.
Usually when we return to the ship our card is scanned to record our arrival then our stuff goes through a machine and we walk through a metal detector. Sometimes you have to show your cruise card and a "government issued ID" (driver's license or passport) to a local authority on the pier but in Amsterdam they had full-on, battle-dressed officers to check IDs, plus X-ray for stuff and metal detectors for us. In Dublin and Liverpool? Nothing special and no real police presence in the cities. Lots of police on the Isle of Man but that was for something else.
Dublin, Ireland, August 23, 2017
Dublin, Ireland, August 23, 2017
We ran into some bumpy seas between Rotterdam and Dublin. Once again the show featuring the singers and dancers had to be cancelled.
We arrived early, early the next morning at the dock in Dublin. It's another big, big commercial port. There were four cruise ships there tucked in amongst the freighters being loaded and unloaded. Nothing entertains a shipload of old patoots more than watching the big giant cranes grab ahold of a container on a freighter and then swing it around and deposit it onto the trailer of a waiting truck. Every time, "That's just amazing. How does that guy get that container on that truck?"
We had the morning free so we joined a three hour drive around Dublin. Jim had been here 35 years ago and me closer to 45 and the only thing either one of us remembered was the entrance to Trinity College and the repository of the Book of Kells. Like every major European city we've visited lately (Ireland remains part of the EU and thus uses Euros) Dublin was jammed with people, residents and visitors. School was just starting up again so add to that mix pre-teens in school uniforms (our guide, a mature woman, pointed out the girls in the mid-calf length skirts and matching burgundy sweaters as students at a Catholic girls school, the same one she'd attended a long while back in the SAME uniforms. No wonder the kidlets dye their hair green and get tattoos when they're out of there! Ugly, ugly uniforms. With white knee high socks and black lace up shoes.) and 18,000 students at Trinity.
We rambled around town enjoying the Georgian and medieval neighborhoods and the front doors. So many of the buildings have the same appearance that the doors are the only feature to set them apart. Every door has a different surround, a different fan window over it and a different shiny brass door knocker (We passed a shop called Knobs and Knockers selling just that!) AND is a different color. And I'm not talking just the expected green, red and blue but also bright yellow, Caribbean teal and Barbi pink! And fabulous window boxes filled with bright flowers spilling over the edges. Once again, you live in a northern spot, you take advantage of the summer sun.
That afternoon we went to the Guiness Brewery. Interestingly enough, of the numerous ship's excursions we've been on since leaving Boston we've had just one member of the crew join us on one tour. But to Guiness? Five of them! And our guide was a Trinity educated, stand up comedian wanna be. The whole trip was a hoot and a half!
The Guiness brewery in Dublin is massive--60 acres in the middle of the city! Evidently when the original Lord Somebody Guiness started it up 250 years ago he signed a 9,000 (yes, Nine Thousand) year lease for that property at 45 pounds per year. The price remains the same. He also secured water rights from a pure river (not the Liffey which runs through Dublin and does not look the slightest bit pure) for the same number of years for even less. They produce millions of pints a day at this Saint James facility AND they've converted one of the original breweries into the Guiness Storehouse, nine floors of exhibitions of how they make the stuff, plus a Guiness Academy to teach the proper way to pour a Guiness, plus a restaurant featuring food that goes well with Guiness AND at the top of the nine story building a circular glass bar, the Gravity Bar where you get your pint and then wander about enjoying the 360 degree view of Dublin. Now THAT was a lively spot. A big circular bar in the middle manned with multiple bartenders drawing endless pints of regular Guiness and the other beers they make. The line is that a Guiness drawn there tastes so much better than one you can get anywhere else. I don't like beer but my inhouse expert, James B. Fisher, was willing to take the test. And his judgement? It's true! The Guiness was fabulous! I also polled several of the hundreds milling around and got the same answer. Oh, did I mention that on the first floor is a massive store featuring anything and everything that is either made from Guiness or can bear the name Guiness. This was our last Euro stop so we kept adding merch to our pile until the adorable clerk said we'd spent it all. At one point I said, You betcha, which just tickled him to know end. He said he just loved American slang. I taught him a couple more that wouldn't cause his grandmother to blush.
The ship wasn't due to leave until 11 but I was a whipped puppy. No shower and change and dining room for me just a quick bite at the Lido and then I was in bed asleep by 7:30. Jim said he checked several times to make sure I wasn't toes up.
We ran into some bumpy seas between Rotterdam and Dublin. Once again the show featuring the singers and dancers had to be cancelled.
We arrived early, early the next morning at the dock in Dublin. It's another big, big commercial port. There were four cruise ships there tucked in amongst the freighters being loaded and unloaded. Nothing entertains a shipload of old patoots more than watching the big giant cranes grab ahold of a container on a freighter and then swing it around and deposit it onto the trailer of a waiting truck. Every time, "That's just amazing. How does that guy get that container on that truck?"
We had the morning free so we joined a three hour drive around Dublin. Jim had been here 35 years ago and me closer to 45 and the only thing either one of us remembered was the entrance to Trinity College and the repository of the Book of Kells. Like every major European city we've visited lately (Ireland remains part of the EU and thus uses Euros) Dublin was jammed with people, residents and visitors. School was just starting up again so add to that mix pre-teens in school uniforms (our guide, a mature woman, pointed out the girls in the mid-calf length skirts and matching burgundy sweaters as students at a Catholic girls school, the same one she'd attended a long while back in the SAME uniforms. No wonder the kidlets dye their hair green and get tattoos when they're out of there! Ugly, ugly uniforms. With white knee high socks and black lace up shoes.) and 18,000 students at Trinity.
We rambled around town enjoying the Georgian and medieval neighborhoods and the front doors. So many of the buildings have the same appearance that the doors are the only feature to set them apart. Every door has a different surround, a different fan window over it and a different shiny brass door knocker (We passed a shop called Knobs and Knockers selling just that!) AND is a different color. And I'm not talking just the expected green, red and blue but also bright yellow, Caribbean teal and Barbi pink! And fabulous window boxes filled with bright flowers spilling over the edges. Once again, you live in a northern spot, you take advantage of the summer sun.
That afternoon we went to the Guiness Brewery. Interestingly enough, of the numerous ship's excursions we've been on since leaving Boston we've had just one member of the crew join us on one tour. But to Guiness? Five of them! And our guide was a Trinity educated, stand up comedian wanna be. The whole trip was a hoot and a half!
The Guiness brewery in Dublin is massive--60 acres in the middle of the city! Evidently when the original Lord Somebody Guiness started it up 250 years ago he signed a 9,000 (yes, Nine Thousand) year lease for that property at 45 pounds per year. The price remains the same. He also secured water rights from a pure river (not the Liffey which runs through Dublin and does not look the slightest bit pure) for the same number of years for even less. They produce millions of pints a day at this Saint James facility AND they've converted one of the original breweries into the Guiness Storehouse, nine floors of exhibitions of how they make the stuff, plus a Guiness Academy to teach the proper way to pour a Guiness, plus a restaurant featuring food that goes well with Guiness AND at the top of the nine story building a circular glass bar, the Gravity Bar where you get your pint and then wander about enjoying the 360 degree view of Dublin. Now THAT was a lively spot. A big circular bar in the middle manned with multiple bartenders drawing endless pints of regular Guiness and the other beers they make. The line is that a Guiness drawn there tastes so much better than one you can get anywhere else. I don't like beer but my inhouse expert, James B. Fisher, was willing to take the test. And his judgement? It's true! The Guiness was fabulous! I also polled several of the hundreds milling around and got the same answer. Oh, did I mention that on the first floor is a massive store featuring anything and everything that is either made from Guiness or can bear the name Guiness. This was our last Euro stop so we kept adding merch to our pile until the adorable clerk said we'd spent it all. At one point I said, You betcha, which just tickled him to know end. He said he just loved American slang. I taught him a couple more that wouldn't cause his grandmother to blush.
The ship wasn't due to leave until 11 but I was a whipped puppy. No shower and change and dining room for me just a quick bite at the Lido and then I was in bed asleep by 7:30. Jim said he checked several times to make sure I wasn't toes up.
Rotterdam, The Netherlands, August 20-21, 2017
Rotterdam, The Netherlands, August 20-21, 2017
We arrived in Rotterdam at day break. Once again I missed the two hour trip up the channel to our pier. And once again, it's one way in, same way out so I would see it when we left the next afternoon.
Rotterdam was completely destroyed during WWII so it's relatively new re-built. It was the busiest port in the world but now is number three after Shanghai and Singapore. It is HUGE! We're docked next to the Erasmus Bridge (aka the Swan Bridge) right in front of a modern cruise terminal and the more vintage former headquarters of Holland America. There is a non-stop parade of vessels going to and fro---water taxis and buses, tour boats, the distinctive low profile (have to fit under the low bridges) canal freighters and barges being pushed along by tugs.
A few years ago we took a Baltic Cruise that ended in Amsterdam, an Amsterdam that was in the midst of a heat wave and football fever. The Dutch soccer team was playing in the World Cup championship game while we were in town along with tens of thousands of beer-soaked football fans. We managed to do a lot of sightseeing but were disappointed that we did not see windmills or the Rijks Museum, closed for a multi-year renovation
This time we were determined to visit a working windmill and the Rijks.
Kinderdiik
An hour or so from Rotterdam is Kinderdiik, the site of 19 windmills built in the 1700s. One of the windmills is both functioning and serves as a museum (the miller and his family lived on the first two floors of the mill). Rather than grinding grain, nuts or chocolate, these windmills ran water pumps that moved the water through canals to the river and kept the village and fields dry. They were first replaced by steam pumps and then electric, still working to keep the water out.
What a beautiful site. The windmills are along both sides of the canal that's lined with reeds and water lilies. The reeds are cut, dried and then used to thatch the roofs of the windmills. A two lane "highway" runs along the top of the dike--one for walkers the other for cyclists. It's very still and quiet, other than the babbling of the multitude of visitors. Nowadays the "miller" is a volunteer who demonstrates how the vanes are moved to catch the wind. Our miller was in Carhartts and wooden shoes and performed his duty wordlessly. He turned this massive wheel to move the vanes then held them in place with chains looped around cleats set in the ground around the mill. We saw a movie explaining how the windmills worked way back when. The millers used the position of the vanes to communicate with each other.18th century Instagram.
We took a bus to Kinderdiik but a couple of days later learned that we could've gone by the waterbus that landed just across the channel from our ship. Next time...
Amsterdam
One could take the train from Rotterdam to Amsterdam but then one would have to get oneself from ship to train station and reverse so these ones opted to take the bus. It was more expensive but the bus picked us up at the ship and dropped us off at Museum Square, exactly where we wanted to be. Five hours later it picked us up and took us back to the Rotterdam in Rotterdam.
One of my few plan aheads was to buy tickets online for the Rijks. We hit the door just as it opened at 9 am. Gorgeous! The renovation seamlessly meshed the old with the new. The building itself is so striking. The facade looks like the Smithsonian in DC, all red brick and towers. Interestingly enough, a bicycle road runs right through the middle of the street level.
Side note here for bicycles in Amsterdam. Holy Moley. I remember from our first visit that it was expensive to learn how to drive, buy a car, insure a car and park a car so by far the preferred method of transportation is the bicycle. Bicycles for one, or two or kid in front, kid in back, you name it. And they whip through the streets in special lanes. The street layout going across is this: pedestrian sidewalk, bike lane, car lane, bike lane, pedestrian sidewalk. The bicyclists do not stop except for red lights so as a pedestrian you must, must, must look both ways before you step into that bike lane to get to the other side of the road. And these are rather narrow city streets. The first time we crossed the road we got right behind a man pushing a baby stroller figuring he must know what he was doing. Success! Oh, and no bike helmets.
Back to the Rijks. Its most famous painting is Rembrandt's immense Night Watch, which occupies an entire wall at the end of the Gallery of Honor on the second floor. At 9 am the museum was almost empty so Jim and I raced (well, hobbled) up the never ending stairs to the Great Hall and then into the GoH. It's a long, long gallery leading to the Night Watch. Walking through that gallery is like walking through the pages of an art history textbook. Vermeer, Hals, Steen and on and on. And why is it that so often a painting you've seen a thousand times in books is either much bigger or much smaller in reality. Vermeer's Milk Maid is actually a very small painting while that Night Watch. Lordy, Lordy, it is just huge. And at one time long ago a meter or so was lopped off both sides to make it fit between two doors! It is guarded with a capital G. Throughout the museum a low rope, maybe a foot or so off the ground, keeps you close enough to really look at the works close up but far enough away to keep wandering hands off the goods. The guards throughout are young, dressed in dark grey suits, and tall. They grow 'em tall in The Netherlands! All the female guards were in the six foot tall range, blonde and very fit. I'm pretty sure they could snap you like a twig. Two of them are inside the rope on either side of the Night Watch. And just outside the rope? A large fire extinguisher with a very long wand. Backpacks, large bags aren't allowed in the museum, same for those awful selfie sticks, which I'm sure cuts down the possibility of some nut job going after the artwork.
We spent a solid three hours enjoying the 17th and 18th century paintings, sculpture and treasures but by then the place was absolutely packed with individuals and tour groups following their guides so we took refuge in the cafe. You could hear a dozen different languages being spoken in the crowds yet the signage and menus are in Dutch and English. Tables in European cafes are just inches apart so we struck up a conversation with a couple of lovely ladies who had just finished a river cruise from Budapest. We told them we had seen a Viking river boat in Kinderdiik the day before and they said, "That was us!"
Back to the ship in the afternoon, arriving exactly at the 3:30 all aboard which meant no hanging about the terminal using the wifi. It's a solid two hours to move from the pier to the harbor entrance. Our departure was timed to slip through the constant traffic. Lots of horn tooting by us, the water taxis, barges and anything else floating in the vicinity. And then we passed the SS Rotterdam, now permanently berthed in Rotterdam and transformed into a hotel. Much tooting and waving from one Rotterdam to another. By the time we'd reached the open sea Jim and I were up on nine watching from the Crow's Nest. There were dozens of freighters of all sizes waiting there to enter the harbor.
One sea day and then Dublin.
We arrived in Rotterdam at day break. Once again I missed the two hour trip up the channel to our pier. And once again, it's one way in, same way out so I would see it when we left the next afternoon.
Rotterdam was completely destroyed during WWII so it's relatively new re-built. It was the busiest port in the world but now is number three after Shanghai and Singapore. It is HUGE! We're docked next to the Erasmus Bridge (aka the Swan Bridge) right in front of a modern cruise terminal and the more vintage former headquarters of Holland America. There is a non-stop parade of vessels going to and fro---water taxis and buses, tour boats, the distinctive low profile (have to fit under the low bridges) canal freighters and barges being pushed along by tugs.
A few years ago we took a Baltic Cruise that ended in Amsterdam, an Amsterdam that was in the midst of a heat wave and football fever. The Dutch soccer team was playing in the World Cup championship game while we were in town along with tens of thousands of beer-soaked football fans. We managed to do a lot of sightseeing but were disappointed that we did not see windmills or the Rijks Museum, closed for a multi-year renovation
This time we were determined to visit a working windmill and the Rijks.
Kinderdiik
An hour or so from Rotterdam is Kinderdiik, the site of 19 windmills built in the 1700s. One of the windmills is both functioning and serves as a museum (the miller and his family lived on the first two floors of the mill). Rather than grinding grain, nuts or chocolate, these windmills ran water pumps that moved the water through canals to the river and kept the village and fields dry. They were first replaced by steam pumps and then electric, still working to keep the water out.
What a beautiful site. The windmills are along both sides of the canal that's lined with reeds and water lilies. The reeds are cut, dried and then used to thatch the roofs of the windmills. A two lane "highway" runs along the top of the dike--one for walkers the other for cyclists. It's very still and quiet, other than the babbling of the multitude of visitors. Nowadays the "miller" is a volunteer who demonstrates how the vanes are moved to catch the wind. Our miller was in Carhartts and wooden shoes and performed his duty wordlessly. He turned this massive wheel to move the vanes then held them in place with chains looped around cleats set in the ground around the mill. We saw a movie explaining how the windmills worked way back when. The millers used the position of the vanes to communicate with each other.18th century Instagram.
We took a bus to Kinderdiik but a couple of days later learned that we could've gone by the waterbus that landed just across the channel from our ship. Next time...
Amsterdam
One could take the train from Rotterdam to Amsterdam but then one would have to get oneself from ship to train station and reverse so these ones opted to take the bus. It was more expensive but the bus picked us up at the ship and dropped us off at Museum Square, exactly where we wanted to be. Five hours later it picked us up and took us back to the Rotterdam in Rotterdam.
One of my few plan aheads was to buy tickets online for the Rijks. We hit the door just as it opened at 9 am. Gorgeous! The renovation seamlessly meshed the old with the new. The building itself is so striking. The facade looks like the Smithsonian in DC, all red brick and towers. Interestingly enough, a bicycle road runs right through the middle of the street level.
Side note here for bicycles in Amsterdam. Holy Moley. I remember from our first visit that it was expensive to learn how to drive, buy a car, insure a car and park a car so by far the preferred method of transportation is the bicycle. Bicycles for one, or two or kid in front, kid in back, you name it. And they whip through the streets in special lanes. The street layout going across is this: pedestrian sidewalk, bike lane, car lane, bike lane, pedestrian sidewalk. The bicyclists do not stop except for red lights so as a pedestrian you must, must, must look both ways before you step into that bike lane to get to the other side of the road. And these are rather narrow city streets. The first time we crossed the road we got right behind a man pushing a baby stroller figuring he must know what he was doing. Success! Oh, and no bike helmets.
Back to the Rijks. Its most famous painting is Rembrandt's immense Night Watch, which occupies an entire wall at the end of the Gallery of Honor on the second floor. At 9 am the museum was almost empty so Jim and I raced (well, hobbled) up the never ending stairs to the Great Hall and then into the GoH. It's a long, long gallery leading to the Night Watch. Walking through that gallery is like walking through the pages of an art history textbook. Vermeer, Hals, Steen and on and on. And why is it that so often a painting you've seen a thousand times in books is either much bigger or much smaller in reality. Vermeer's Milk Maid is actually a very small painting while that Night Watch. Lordy, Lordy, it is just huge. And at one time long ago a meter or so was lopped off both sides to make it fit between two doors! It is guarded with a capital G. Throughout the museum a low rope, maybe a foot or so off the ground, keeps you close enough to really look at the works close up but far enough away to keep wandering hands off the goods. The guards throughout are young, dressed in dark grey suits, and tall. They grow 'em tall in The Netherlands! All the female guards were in the six foot tall range, blonde and very fit. I'm pretty sure they could snap you like a twig. Two of them are inside the rope on either side of the Night Watch. And just outside the rope? A large fire extinguisher with a very long wand. Backpacks, large bags aren't allowed in the museum, same for those awful selfie sticks, which I'm sure cuts down the possibility of some nut job going after the artwork.
We spent a solid three hours enjoying the 17th and 18th century paintings, sculpture and treasures but by then the place was absolutely packed with individuals and tour groups following their guides so we took refuge in the cafe. You could hear a dozen different languages being spoken in the crowds yet the signage and menus are in Dutch and English. Tables in European cafes are just inches apart so we struck up a conversation with a couple of lovely ladies who had just finished a river cruise from Budapest. We told them we had seen a Viking river boat in Kinderdiik the day before and they said, "That was us!"
Back to the ship in the afternoon, arriving exactly at the 3:30 all aboard which meant no hanging about the terminal using the wifi. It's a solid two hours to move from the pier to the harbor entrance. Our departure was timed to slip through the constant traffic. Lots of horn tooting by us, the water taxis, barges and anything else floating in the vicinity. And then we passed the SS Rotterdam, now permanently berthed in Rotterdam and transformed into a hotel. Much tooting and waving from one Rotterdam to another. By the time we'd reached the open sea Jim and I were up on nine watching from the Crow's Nest. There were dozens of freighters of all sizes waiting there to enter the harbor.
One sea day and then Dublin.
At Sea and Norway, August 14-18, 2017
At Sea and Norway, August 14-18, 2017
"We left 5:30ish for Norway, two sea days east. The seas have been so calm so far. Is that tempting fate to write that?"
That was my last sentence as we left Iceland and as it turned out it WAS tempting fate. We ran into our first rough water of the entire trip. Suddenly bowls of green apples and soda crackers are at the front desk, the after dinner mint guy is doling out little bites of candied ginger instead, lots of "Do Not Disturb" signs on cabin doors at dinner time and racks of little white barf bags outside of the elevators on every floor. It wasn't a full-on batten down the hatches drill, but walking in a straight line was a challenge. Not many people in the Crow's Nest for cocktails (every so often the ship would climb up a big swell and then bang down, rattling every bottle in the bar) or in the dining room for dinner. The show featuring the in house singers and dancers was canceled; it was just too rocky for them to be safe.
Gradually the seas settled a bit but the weather was just crummy alternating between grey and rainy or grey and foggy. Every one was pretty sanguine about it. The mantra continues to be better to have crummy sea days and sunny port days than the opposite.
Alesund
Our first port in Norway was the picturesque Alesund between Trondheim and Bergen. Most of the town burned to the ground in 1904 so it was rebuilt in Art Nouveau style although it looked closer to a Hanseatic Art Nouveau to me. The tops of many of the buildings had that distinctive stepped up facade seen along the canals in Amsterdam. On last season's Amazing Race TV show the contestants raced through Alesund to the island of Giske and then to the lighthouse on the island of Godoy. We went on HAL's version--a leisurely drive through the underwater tunnels that link the various islands that dot the harbor.
The submarine tunnel system is very impressive. The bus is zipping along and suddenly into a tunnel and down under the sea. I think the longest one we went through was 5 km or so and I'm guessing replaced a ferry. The islands are made of low mountains, dotted with farms and homes. Those who don't farm, fish. It's all green with lovely flowers in the gardens. Maybe 200 residents on each island. Along the shore are boat houses built with shared walls and peaked roofs. Each has an apartment above the boat house. Tiny house living right on the water. Giske island was the birthplace of the Viking Rollo who conquered Normany in 911and was the antecedent of William the Conqueror.
The famous lighthouse (it appears that ALL lighthouses on the Atlantic are famous) is another tunnel ride to the island of Godoy. The topography is like all the other islands, with a small fishing village, more small farms, pretty gardens and a very picturesque lighthouse on a windswept point.
On our way back to the ship we drove up to the top of Mount Aksla for a commanding view of the harbor and surrounding islands. It was still sunny but very crowded. We weren't the only ship docked that day and Mount Aksla seemed to be on everyone's itinerary. Like many cities on the seacoast, Alesund has tens of thousands of cruise ship passengers visit every summer. Our guide told us that because of the sea currents they didn't have snow during the winter. Hmmmm. Then why was every building topped by a tall, peaked roof with a row of metal loops along the edge to keep the snow from falling off and hitting someone below?
We'd thought about getting off in the town center to wander about and then ramble back to the ship but then the rains came discouraging wandering and rambling.
Bergen
Next port was Bergen. I remember visiting there 40+ years ago, especially the big seafood market on the harbor. Now it is still very pretty with houses climbing up the hills that surround the harbor and endless shops catering to tourists. It's a fairly easy walk to town, a packed town as a big P&O ship was also docked. We'd decided just to wander and amble (the weather was cooperating this time) rather than drive around the fjord to see yet another waterfall. Bergen is the largest port and the second largest city in Norway. I remember Norway being very expensive 40+ years ago and that certainly hasn't changed. Later people were exchanging "guess what I paid for lunch" stories. Probably a combination of where it is plus the captive audience.
Eidfjord
This little village (population 900) is at the end of a fjord. We cruised up the fjord a couple of hours ahead of schedule, arriving at 8 am instead of 10. Surprise, surprise! I wasn't awake to see it. But once again, we've gotta go back the way we came in and at a much more sensible hour (6 pm) so I'll catch the views on the flip flop.
The HUGE Viking Seas beat us in and so got the dock leaving us to hover off shore and a short tender ride to the pier. Being up at the end of the fjord, the water was absolutely flat so the tender trip was a breeze. Even the wheelchair bound could make it, helped by several stewards to carry the chair to the tender and then help the person down the 13 steps to the tender platform. Everyone knows the drill, murmurs "There but for the grace of God" and waits for the successful transfer.
Eidfjord is a tiny little place with several hotels and restaurants, a nice art gallery, a couple of grocery stores (so much fun to check out the prices--bananas approximately $1.50/lb) and shops. One had the usual touristy souvenirs but the other had only "made in Norway" merchandise, some of it handcrafted AND a yarn store in back! Jim assumed the position, standing out on the sidewalk in the sunshine with a bunch of other husbands smart enough NOT to go inside and just get in the way. The shop had the most adorable knitwear for toddlers and children but said toddlers and children would have to live near the Arctic Circle to ever wear it. It seemed to us that Eidfjord must also be a vacation destination for Norwegians. Such a lovely spot with fishing, sea kayaking and canoeing and glacier hiking just on the other side of the mountains.
Cruising out of the fjord was a treat, despite the rain which started just at the end of our stop in Eidfjord. We spotted single houses as well as small groups of buildings here and there along the shores. Some appeared to be accessible by road but others had small docks out front and probably got to and from by boat. It would be great fun in the summer. Not so much in the winter.
Sea Day on the 19th and then an early arrival in Rotterdam on the 20th. Some passengers are getting off there as well as the Captain. New people will board along with the new Captain and, let's hope, supplies! Our favorite waiter in the Crow's Nest said they ran out of peanuts a few days ago and were down to the last can of mixed nuts to ration out to the cocktail crowd. Can hard tack be far behind?
"We left 5:30ish for Norway, two sea days east. The seas have been so calm so far. Is that tempting fate to write that?"
That was my last sentence as we left Iceland and as it turned out it WAS tempting fate. We ran into our first rough water of the entire trip. Suddenly bowls of green apples and soda crackers are at the front desk, the after dinner mint guy is doling out little bites of candied ginger instead, lots of "Do Not Disturb" signs on cabin doors at dinner time and racks of little white barf bags outside of the elevators on every floor. It wasn't a full-on batten down the hatches drill, but walking in a straight line was a challenge. Not many people in the Crow's Nest for cocktails (every so often the ship would climb up a big swell and then bang down, rattling every bottle in the bar) or in the dining room for dinner. The show featuring the in house singers and dancers was canceled; it was just too rocky for them to be safe.
Gradually the seas settled a bit but the weather was just crummy alternating between grey and rainy or grey and foggy. Every one was pretty sanguine about it. The mantra continues to be better to have crummy sea days and sunny port days than the opposite.
Alesund
Our first port in Norway was the picturesque Alesund between Trondheim and Bergen. Most of the town burned to the ground in 1904 so it was rebuilt in Art Nouveau style although it looked closer to a Hanseatic Art Nouveau to me. The tops of many of the buildings had that distinctive stepped up facade seen along the canals in Amsterdam. On last season's Amazing Race TV show the contestants raced through Alesund to the island of Giske and then to the lighthouse on the island of Godoy. We went on HAL's version--a leisurely drive through the underwater tunnels that link the various islands that dot the harbor.
The submarine tunnel system is very impressive. The bus is zipping along and suddenly into a tunnel and down under the sea. I think the longest one we went through was 5 km or so and I'm guessing replaced a ferry. The islands are made of low mountains, dotted with farms and homes. Those who don't farm, fish. It's all green with lovely flowers in the gardens. Maybe 200 residents on each island. Along the shore are boat houses built with shared walls and peaked roofs. Each has an apartment above the boat house. Tiny house living right on the water. Giske island was the birthplace of the Viking Rollo who conquered Normany in 911and was the antecedent of William the Conqueror.
The famous lighthouse (it appears that ALL lighthouses on the Atlantic are famous) is another tunnel ride to the island of Godoy. The topography is like all the other islands, with a small fishing village, more small farms, pretty gardens and a very picturesque lighthouse on a windswept point.
On our way back to the ship we drove up to the top of Mount Aksla for a commanding view of the harbor and surrounding islands. It was still sunny but very crowded. We weren't the only ship docked that day and Mount Aksla seemed to be on everyone's itinerary. Like many cities on the seacoast, Alesund has tens of thousands of cruise ship passengers visit every summer. Our guide told us that because of the sea currents they didn't have snow during the winter. Hmmmm. Then why was every building topped by a tall, peaked roof with a row of metal loops along the edge to keep the snow from falling off and hitting someone below?
We'd thought about getting off in the town center to wander about and then ramble back to the ship but then the rains came discouraging wandering and rambling.
Bergen
Next port was Bergen. I remember visiting there 40+ years ago, especially the big seafood market on the harbor. Now it is still very pretty with houses climbing up the hills that surround the harbor and endless shops catering to tourists. It's a fairly easy walk to town, a packed town as a big P&O ship was also docked. We'd decided just to wander and amble (the weather was cooperating this time) rather than drive around the fjord to see yet another waterfall. Bergen is the largest port and the second largest city in Norway. I remember Norway being very expensive 40+ years ago and that certainly hasn't changed. Later people were exchanging "guess what I paid for lunch" stories. Probably a combination of where it is plus the captive audience.
Eidfjord
This little village (population 900) is at the end of a fjord. We cruised up the fjord a couple of hours ahead of schedule, arriving at 8 am instead of 10. Surprise, surprise! I wasn't awake to see it. But once again, we've gotta go back the way we came in and at a much more sensible hour (6 pm) so I'll catch the views on the flip flop.
The HUGE Viking Seas beat us in and so got the dock leaving us to hover off shore and a short tender ride to the pier. Being up at the end of the fjord, the water was absolutely flat so the tender trip was a breeze. Even the wheelchair bound could make it, helped by several stewards to carry the chair to the tender and then help the person down the 13 steps to the tender platform. Everyone knows the drill, murmurs "There but for the grace of God" and waits for the successful transfer.
Eidfjord is a tiny little place with several hotels and restaurants, a nice art gallery, a couple of grocery stores (so much fun to check out the prices--bananas approximately $1.50/lb) and shops. One had the usual touristy souvenirs but the other had only "made in Norway" merchandise, some of it handcrafted AND a yarn store in back! Jim assumed the position, standing out on the sidewalk in the sunshine with a bunch of other husbands smart enough NOT to go inside and just get in the way. The shop had the most adorable knitwear for toddlers and children but said toddlers and children would have to live near the Arctic Circle to ever wear it. It seemed to us that Eidfjord must also be a vacation destination for Norwegians. Such a lovely spot with fishing, sea kayaking and canoeing and glacier hiking just on the other side of the mountains.
Cruising out of the fjord was a treat, despite the rain which started just at the end of our stop in Eidfjord. We spotted single houses as well as small groups of buildings here and there along the shores. Some appeared to be accessible by road but others had small docks out front and probably got to and from by boat. It would be great fun in the summer. Not so much in the winter.
Sea Day on the 19th and then an early arrival in Rotterdam on the 20th. Some passengers are getting off there as well as the Captain. New people will board along with the new Captain and, let's hope, supplies! Our favorite waiter in the Crow's Nest said they ran out of peanuts a few days ago and were down to the last can of mixed nuts to ration out to the cocktail crowd. Can hard tack be far behind?
Wednesday, August 16, 2017
Reykjavik, Iceland, August 13, 2017
Reykjavik, Iceland, August 13, 2017
Day Two
The Icelandic alphabet has 38 letters. No QWERTY keyboard for these folks. Icelandic is the official language and the first one children learn at home and at school. It's the root of most Scandinavian languages, especially Danish, so that's usually language number two. Then English. Then it used to be Spanish but now Chinese is quite popular. I still remember our guide Kevin in China years ago who was stunned that Americans (and evidently Icelanders) were learning Chinese. He just said, "Why? We're all learning English."
Unlike yesterday's Meanie Beanie (As we were wandering about she included a 45 minute screed on how tourists were ruining the island for Icelanders. Not exactly the usual upbeat, cordial representative), our guide on day two was a pleasant chap named something unpronounceable (Just call me Randy) who told us that it was a constant effort to keep the Icelandic language alive and unsullied by foreign phrases. "It's hard to learn and hard to speak."
As we set off at 7:30 AM on the classic, all day tour "Best of the Golden Circle: Thingvellir, Gullfoss & Geyser" Jim and I realized we had visited half of the scheduled sites the day before. I'm not quite sure how it happened but, oh well we didn't see the waterfall (Gullfoss) or Geyser yesterday so lead on. The Koningsdam arrived late yesterday afternoon. It's twice as big as the Rotterdam with twice as many people, most of whom seem to be headed on the Golden Circle, too. I counted at least eleven buses being loaded. It's also Sunday in the height of the tourist season. And it's sunny. Every place we visited was mobbed. Fortunately most of them are wide open and vast and can accommodate a lot of people. The parking lots? Not so much. But who cares? I'm not driving and neither is the put-upon Gregor from yesterday. Today's driver is a veteran who could probably handle this blindfolded and is more than happy to hem in the occasional rental car bold enough to park in a Bus Only slot. Hey, life ain't pretty on the lava fields.
Iceland has some cone-shaped volcanoes that spew and bellow but it has more volcanic rifts. They're literally rips in the earth's surface where the lava is released either as rocks or flow. This island is part of the mid-Atlantic range that stretches between the hemispheres. It is part of the constantly growing underwater range that has broken the surface. Geologically it's the newest place on earth. The land stretches out all lumpy and bumpy because those rocks have yet to break down. And in the thermal areas, here and there steam just drifts up from the ground.
The population lives along the coast. Not only is there ice in them thar hills, but Randy keeps calling it the uninhabitable wilderness. It seems that people are lost out there - forever! - every year. It's not that they're eaten by something ferocious. The only native mammal is a white fox. Randy says the wilderness just swallows them up. Yowza.
Geyser is an Icelandic word pronounced with a lot of rolling Rs and th sounds, but it means the same thing in English. The Geyser Geothermal Area east of Reykjavik is in the farming region. In the midst of the multitude of hot springs is a geyser that goes off every five minutes or so. This eruption is dependable enough that the park has enough visitors to support a hotel, restaurant and store. The thermal fields are quite extensive with endless paths to lead one safely around and over the hot water flowing in little streams. There is also a big sign at the entrance alerting that you are here at your own risk with 9 rules and reasons why you should NOT touch the springs, mud or water. The last on the list: The nearest hospital is 62 Kilometers away. I gave up counting the number of people walking through the streams or sticking their hands in the water. It's another Darwinian spot to wean out the idiots.
Hundreds if not thousands of people are wandering all around the park with a number shoulder to shoulder in a big circle around the geyser (ropes to keep everyone at an appropriate distance), cameras, phones and iPads (sorry iPad photo takers, but you always have your machine blocking the view of everyone around you. Use your phone, dammit.) ready to hit the button when it blows. It steams, it steams, it steams and then, boom! It spouts a fountain of water at least 50 feet straight up into the air. Click, click, click......and then everyone lowers their photographic equipment and watches the water fall back down and disappear. Bucket list: Geyser. Check.
There was a great store with tons of stuff but the prices were heart stopping. $50 US for a Tshirt. Made in Portugal! And anything either knitted or with fur was in the hundreds. Pass. I might just be leaving Iceland with memories not merch.
Onward to Gullfoss, which somehow in Icelandic is also pronounced with rolling Rs and Th sounds. However you say it, Gullfoss is rightly labeled the most beautiful waterfall in Iceland. The water is melted glacier ice that flows 180 km down the White River to this canyon with a wide and steep drop. It's clearly set up for the thousands of people who visit with firm gravel paths, wooden walkways and stairs that take you down to River level. Gullfoss means golden shower and when the sun hits the water as it goes over the edge it does look golden. Very impressive. Jim and I walked along the top of the canyon enjoying the sight, sound and mist. I think I like the sound the best. Before you reach the canyon you hear the thunder of the water hitting the rocks. One of the informational signs along the walkway told exactly how much water went over the falls every second or minute. I can't remember the number other than it was big!
There are a lot of sheep and horses in Iceland. 500,000 of the former and a whole lot of the latter. It seems that every field and pasture has horses. Yesterday our guidette kept telling us the sheep were for wool and the horses for recreation. Hmmm. Waaaay too many for wool and riding. She finally conceded that they ate both sheep and horses. And Puffins. Not the Puffins! Intellectually I know that hamburgers come from cattle (finger in each ear, "la la la la la") but the sheep are shaggy, the horses beautiful and the Puffins just too cute for words. I saw a KFC along the way. I can only hope it really is KFC not KFP.
Our last stop was the same power station we visited yesterday. Since I hadn't gained any scientific enlightenment overnight I decided to chillax on the bus while the others went in. After about five minutes or so I decided to turn on my phone and see if there was wifi available. Surprise! Yes! And a strong signal. Let the mail reading and podcast downloading begin. It was all just arriving at lightning speed and then, gradually it slowed to a crawl. I looked up and counted 13 buses that had arrived while I wasn't paying attention. No doubt at least half of them had seized upon the wifi, too. I do hate to share.
We arrived back at the pier on time and in time to watch the Koningsdam slowly pull from the dock and head out. We left 5:30ish for Norway, two sea days east. The seas have been so calm so far. Is that tempting fate to write that?
Day Two
The Icelandic alphabet has 38 letters. No QWERTY keyboard for these folks. Icelandic is the official language and the first one children learn at home and at school. It's the root of most Scandinavian languages, especially Danish, so that's usually language number two. Then English. Then it used to be Spanish but now Chinese is quite popular. I still remember our guide Kevin in China years ago who was stunned that Americans (and evidently Icelanders) were learning Chinese. He just said, "Why? We're all learning English."
Unlike yesterday's Meanie Beanie (As we were wandering about she included a 45 minute screed on how tourists were ruining the island for Icelanders. Not exactly the usual upbeat, cordial representative), our guide on day two was a pleasant chap named something unpronounceable (Just call me Randy) who told us that it was a constant effort to keep the Icelandic language alive and unsullied by foreign phrases. "It's hard to learn and hard to speak."
As we set off at 7:30 AM on the classic, all day tour "Best of the Golden Circle: Thingvellir, Gullfoss & Geyser" Jim and I realized we had visited half of the scheduled sites the day before. I'm not quite sure how it happened but, oh well we didn't see the waterfall (Gullfoss) or Geyser yesterday so lead on. The Koningsdam arrived late yesterday afternoon. It's twice as big as the Rotterdam with twice as many people, most of whom seem to be headed on the Golden Circle, too. I counted at least eleven buses being loaded. It's also Sunday in the height of the tourist season. And it's sunny. Every place we visited was mobbed. Fortunately most of them are wide open and vast and can accommodate a lot of people. The parking lots? Not so much. But who cares? I'm not driving and neither is the put-upon Gregor from yesterday. Today's driver is a veteran who could probably handle this blindfolded and is more than happy to hem in the occasional rental car bold enough to park in a Bus Only slot. Hey, life ain't pretty on the lava fields.
Iceland has some cone-shaped volcanoes that spew and bellow but it has more volcanic rifts. They're literally rips in the earth's surface where the lava is released either as rocks or flow. This island is part of the mid-Atlantic range that stretches between the hemispheres. It is part of the constantly growing underwater range that has broken the surface. Geologically it's the newest place on earth. The land stretches out all lumpy and bumpy because those rocks have yet to break down. And in the thermal areas, here and there steam just drifts up from the ground.
The population lives along the coast. Not only is there ice in them thar hills, but Randy keeps calling it the uninhabitable wilderness. It seems that people are lost out there - forever! - every year. It's not that they're eaten by something ferocious. The only native mammal is a white fox. Randy says the wilderness just swallows them up. Yowza.
Geyser is an Icelandic word pronounced with a lot of rolling Rs and th sounds, but it means the same thing in English. The Geyser Geothermal Area east of Reykjavik is in the farming region. In the midst of the multitude of hot springs is a geyser that goes off every five minutes or so. This eruption is dependable enough that the park has enough visitors to support a hotel, restaurant and store. The thermal fields are quite extensive with endless paths to lead one safely around and over the hot water flowing in little streams. There is also a big sign at the entrance alerting that you are here at your own risk with 9 rules and reasons why you should NOT touch the springs, mud or water. The last on the list: The nearest hospital is 62 Kilometers away. I gave up counting the number of people walking through the streams or sticking their hands in the water. It's another Darwinian spot to wean out the idiots.
Hundreds if not thousands of people are wandering all around the park with a number shoulder to shoulder in a big circle around the geyser (ropes to keep everyone at an appropriate distance), cameras, phones and iPads (sorry iPad photo takers, but you always have your machine blocking the view of everyone around you. Use your phone, dammit.) ready to hit the button when it blows. It steams, it steams, it steams and then, boom! It spouts a fountain of water at least 50 feet straight up into the air. Click, click, click......and then everyone lowers their photographic equipment and watches the water fall back down and disappear. Bucket list: Geyser. Check.
There was a great store with tons of stuff but the prices were heart stopping. $50 US for a Tshirt. Made in Portugal! And anything either knitted or with fur was in the hundreds. Pass. I might just be leaving Iceland with memories not merch.
Onward to Gullfoss, which somehow in Icelandic is also pronounced with rolling Rs and Th sounds. However you say it, Gullfoss is rightly labeled the most beautiful waterfall in Iceland. The water is melted glacier ice that flows 180 km down the White River to this canyon with a wide and steep drop. It's clearly set up for the thousands of people who visit with firm gravel paths, wooden walkways and stairs that take you down to River level. Gullfoss means golden shower and when the sun hits the water as it goes over the edge it does look golden. Very impressive. Jim and I walked along the top of the canyon enjoying the sight, sound and mist. I think I like the sound the best. Before you reach the canyon you hear the thunder of the water hitting the rocks. One of the informational signs along the walkway told exactly how much water went over the falls every second or minute. I can't remember the number other than it was big!
There are a lot of sheep and horses in Iceland. 500,000 of the former and a whole lot of the latter. It seems that every field and pasture has horses. Yesterday our guidette kept telling us the sheep were for wool and the horses for recreation. Hmmm. Waaaay too many for wool and riding. She finally conceded that they ate both sheep and horses. And Puffins. Not the Puffins! Intellectually I know that hamburgers come from cattle (finger in each ear, "la la la la la") but the sheep are shaggy, the horses beautiful and the Puffins just too cute for words. I saw a KFC along the way. I can only hope it really is KFC not KFP.
Our last stop was the same power station we visited yesterday. Since I hadn't gained any scientific enlightenment overnight I decided to chillax on the bus while the others went in. After about five minutes or so I decided to turn on my phone and see if there was wifi available. Surprise! Yes! And a strong signal. Let the mail reading and podcast downloading begin. It was all just arriving at lightning speed and then, gradually it slowed to a crawl. I looked up and counted 13 buses that had arrived while I wasn't paying attention. No doubt at least half of them had seized upon the wifi, too. I do hate to share.
We arrived back at the pier on time and in time to watch the Koningsdam slowly pull from the dock and head out. We left 5:30ish for Norway, two sea days east. The seas have been so calm so far. Is that tempting fate to write that?
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