Paul's Real Letter to Ephesians

If I had been St. Paul writing my letter to the Ephesians, I would have started it by saying, “Dear Brothers and Sisters, good luck keeping those souvenir shop vendors from trying to sell you Roman coins and fake Rolex watches.”

Seriously, Folks. These guys don't know the meaning of the word no. And we haven't even been to Egypt yet where the street vendors are supposed to be worse.

But what a great day we had overall. Through a website called cruisecritic.com (which connects cruisers to others on their same cruise and allows them to share ideas, etc), Bill had gotten us on a private tour of Ephesus. There were 25 of us, and the person putting together the cruise had gotten us a very knowledgeable tour guide (he actually had been an archaeologist and was retired from that career). We got started very early – meeting at 7:30 and on the road by 8.

Our first stop was at the home believed to be where the apostle John and the Virgin Mary had lived after the death and resurrection of Jesus. Remember in John's gospel, Jesus handed over his mother to the care of his beloved friend John (Mother, behold your son; John, behold your mother). Tradition holds that John and Mary went to Ephesus. When things became a bit too hairy and unsafe, they moved to a house in the hills above Ephesus. It is believed that Mary's human life ended in Ephesus (Catholics believe she was assumed body and soul into heaven). John eventually died a natural death in Ephesus, and is buried near there.

Most of the structure that sits at the site is not original, although the foundation is from the original house. The home is very small, and where the kitchen would have been is an altar with a bronze statue of Mary. The tour moves people in a line through the home and out the other side, where there is a picture of the Blessed Mother with all of the citations from the Koran written below (and there are many references to Mary in the Koran).

After the tour, you pass by the first of very many souvenir shops that we will see throughout the day. Bill had predicted that it would be “Mary's House and Gift Shop,” but in fact, it should have been “Mary's House, Gift Shop, Snack Bar, and Internet Cafe.” But at least the souvenir hawkers didn't bug us much there. And the bathrooms were clean and had the trifecta (toilet seats, toilet paper, and soap!). My single purchase was a scarf in case we went into a mosque (which we didn't). The vendor told me it was cashmere but since it was only 5 Euros, I'm thinking perhaps he wasn't telling me the truth.

Following the visit to the house of Mary, we went to the ruins of the ancient city of Ephesus. It was fascinating to see where people lived thousands of years BC. The city had, at one time, been home for 240,000 (not including slaves), and they were surprisingly advanced, with steam heat and rudimentary indoor plumbing. We saw their shopping area, examples of where they lived, a magnificent library, the public latrines (to which the rich people sent their slaves to warm up prior to their own visit), and the Grand Theater where the Ephesians watched gladiators, plays, and heard St. Paul make his case for Christianity. The theater held 24,000.

After seeing Ephesus, we ran into our first commercial event. Our next stop was to a Turkish carpet store. Our guess is that tour guides in Turkey get paid by store owners for bringing a busload of captive American tourists to see their presentation and get the sales pitch. Should anyone purchase a rug, they probably get a cut.

I must say it was interesting to see the women weaving the rugs by hand. The craftsmanship was amazing. The carpets were absolutely gorgeous with vivid colors, but quite expensive. I know that you can work out fabulous deals, but it was still above my price range. I have a house in Mesa to pay for! But let me tell you, it was not because the salesman didn't try. Usually if you don't make eye contact with a sales clerk, you're safe. Not in Turkey. Here was the best deal that one of our fellow tourists was offered: He lives in Canada and his wife isn't with him. The salesman said if he would put a $500 deposit on the carpet, the salesman would fly with him to Canada, bringing the carpet with him. If his wife didn't like the carpet, he would give him the deposit back. The traveler didn't accept the offer. We did get a beverage out of it. (Let me just tell you that there is a reason you don't hear a lot about Turkish wine. Still, it was fun to taste it.)

Following the visit to the carpet store, we saw the Church of St. John. The church is actually in ruins as well, but we were able to see the place where John is buried. And we were able to get a good idea of what the church looked like in its day.

After that visit, we were taken to Commercial Opportunity #2 – a leather store. The leather they make is gorgeous. It seriously feels like silk. We saw a fashion show, and were given another Turkish beverage – apple tea. That stop was actually fairly lucrative for our tour guide as several of the people purchased leather coats. I'm sure they got good deals. We tried to simply look at some of the jackets, but a salesman followed us around so closely that it gave me the creeps.

By this time it was 4 o'clock, and we were all very tired. So our tour guide took us back to the ship, with a quick stop to see the location of the temple of the Goddess Artemis (which was the goddess that St. Paul worked so hard to get people to give up for Christianity). In its day, the temple had apparently been enormous. All that is left is one column.

This was the stop that produced the most aggressive shop vendors. They stand in your way. They touch you. They ask you again and again if you want to buy this genuine ancient artifact for a euro. They accept American dollars. They accept Euros. I think they might have accepted Monopoly money. You have to just keep walking. But one store did advertise “Genuine Fake Watches.” Perhaps this was the only truthful vendor.

I was disappointed that we did not have the opportunity to try some local Turkish food. I would rather have tried falafel and foregone the leather and carpet stores. Sigh.

Tomorrow is a sea day, and we are both very glad. Everyone on the ship seemed tired tonight at dinner.

Greek Island Day

Our ship was scheduled to arrive at the Greek Island of Rhodes at 10 o'clock this morning. So I set a wake-up call for 8:30. I quietly dressed and went to the gym early, leaving Bill to sleep a bit longer. Much to my surprise, the vista out of the windows of the gym was magnificent! Our ship had docked early, and I was looking at the prettiest of towns jutting up from the Mediterranean Ocean.

It was a sight for sore eyes after the confusion and noise of yesterday in Athens. The island really does sparkle in the sunlight, and the skies were as blue as the Greek flag. It was one of the prettiest things I've ever seen in my travels to Europe.

After my exercise, Bill and I did our few errands and were off the ship by 10:30. Unlike yesterday, Rhodes City is just a very short walk from where the ships dock, so it was easy to get on and off the ship. No need for us to take a tour bus, or anything else, to get us where we wanted to go. There were a few people taking tours, but most everyone was doing what we were doing – walking to the old town center to shop and enjoy the tavernas.

We did what we like doing most – we quickly got off the beaten path so that we could see the back streets of the old town. We had an early lunch at a cafe that was tucked away from the more commercial area of town. Then we wandered and looked at the locals, the flowers, the churches and the mosques.

Bill hates shopping more than any other human being I know. I kept telling him that the ship was so close that he could go back and I could shop at my leisure. At first he said no, that he would prefer to stay with me. But I would go into a store, he would quickly get bored. We finally went into a wine store where he bought a couple of very nice cigars. At last, I was able to convince him to go back to the ship.

Finally! I was free from that person who ardently hates shopping. I was in a lovely Greek town that was full of things to buy and vendors eager, if not frantic, to sell me things. So I picked out a few things in the first shop I went into, with help from a friendly Greek sales clerk. I get to the counter to pay and suddenly I remember that I had absolutely NO MONEY. I had given all of my money and my credit cards to Bill to carry when we were in Naples, and he had never given them back. I seriously thought the sales clerk was going to weep.

I walked back to the ship and still had a couple of hours to spare before we had to be back on board. I gathered my money and my credit cards and was back shopping in no time.
We had a full table again tonight at dinner, and it was fun to hear about everyone's shopping adventures. One couple, who come from Toronto and are on their first cruise, actually bought a carpet that they are having sent to their home in Canada. No one could compete with that.
Everyone is excited for their next couple of port stops. One of our table mates said that seeing the pyramids was on his “bucket list.” The couple from Canada plan on riding camels when in Egypt. I can't say that is particularly on MY bucket list.

We meet up with the people taking our tour into Ephesus very early tomorrow, so we are having a early turn-in. We did see a very beautiful sunset from the deck this evening.

It Was All Greek to Me

Well, the Greeks sure caused a lot of consternation on a cruise ship or two because of their uncertain economic and political conditions.

In the end, after standing in a line for over an hour yesterday morning, Bill and I got on a short afternoon bus tour that allowed us to see some of the major sights in Athens. It was the only thing available, and that was only because many people just got too nervous or ticked off to go into the city and turned in their tickets.

The port where the ship docks is way too far from Athens to walk, and if, when, and who was striking was never made clear (through no fault of Royal Caribbean; I don't think anyone knew). We had been told that the metro stations and city buses would be running before 11 and after 5, but I was just too nervous to believe that. It had all been too fluid throughout the past few days. And if they weren't striking, they were demonstrating. At one point during our tour, they told us we would not be able to drive through the modern Athens City Center because it was closed (I assume due to demonstrations). About 10 minutes later, our tour guide received a phone call telling her that we were able to drive through the center of Athens. Drive fast before it changes again.

Having said all of that, it was a most interesting afternoon. Athens is where the large majority of Greeks live. It is pretty in a big-city sort of way. The buildings crawl up the side of the hill and the Parthenon sits like a cherry on top of an ice cream sundae – you can see it from very far away.

We drove to an area called the Plaka, which is the historical city center. It includes several streets that house shops and tavernas offering typical Greek food (well, typical for tourists at any rate). They freed us from the bus, and we had an hour-and-a-half to wander around a bit. While others shopped, Bill and I found a taverna and ordered gyros (what else?) and some white Greek house wine. It was good, and we enjoyed watching the people shop around us.

I'm pretty sure that the street on which the taverna was located was supposed to be a pedestrian street, but at one point, a UPS truck that literally took up the entire street (people were diving to the sidewalks) slowly drove down the street, with its sides touching the sidewalks because the street was so narrow. But, it was no wonder. The traffic around the city was absolutely crazy. I'm not sure if it is always that bad or if it was nuttier because of the political situation that day. I suspect the former. The UPS truck driver was likely looking for a quicker way to his destination. But, as can be expected in big cities, several others (including the inevitable scooters) followed suit. So the wacky parade went on for some time. We just sipped our wine and watched in wonder.

The entertainment last night was a comedian who was, unfortunately, not very funny. His material was very old. He was making jokes about Prince Charles leaving Princess Di for a homlier woman. Seriously? Didn't that happen a couple of decades ago? But the funny thing was that there was a couple sitting behind us who was apparently from Spain or Mexico. He spoke and understood English, but she didn't. So he was interpreting the bits for her. So Mr. Comedian would make his joke and then there would be the translation behind us. Furthermore, the man sitting to my left apparently couldn't hear well, so after each joke he would ask his wife, “What?” and she would repeat the joke loudly in his ear. It was a very surreal experience.

Our next stop is Rhodes, which is a lovely Greek Island. I anticipate less drama.

Unlucky Strike

Today we were at sea all day, making our way to Athens. It was very quiet, so I spent the day observing people and trying to note the differences between this cruise and the last.

The most noticeable thing is the number of non-Americans. While there are plenty of Americans, there seem to be many more Europeans and Asians this cruise than the last. Lots of Brits. In addition to listening to a variety of tongues in the elevator, I have also noticed that all announcements are made in English, Spanish, Italian, and German. Sometimes they seem to go on forever.

Of course, when you have more Europeans, you have more Speedos. Sigh. And you also have more men wearing capri pants and shiny pointed loafers.

Another thing I've noticed is that there are many more children on this cruise than there were cruising from Miami to Rome. I think on that cruise they said there were a total of 46 children. I haven't heard them mention a number yet, but I can see there are plenty more. It seems like kind of a funny cruise itinerary for small children, but I can tell you that they were certainly having fun today on the deck. It makes me more homesick for my grandchildren.

There are many more late-night activities. On the first cruise, our dining time was 5:30. The second dining time was 8:00. They would generally have two shows – one at 6:45 for the late diners and one at 8:30 for the early diners. Our early seating is now at 6 o'clock, and the late seating is at 8:30. They still have two programs, but the first starts at 8:30 or 9, and the late show begins at 11. Europeans dine late, so we weren't surprised at the change in dining time.

The overall age level of this cruise seems younger. While I still see older people, there were considerably more young adults out by the pool today. Lots of bikinis. Some that shouldn't have been there.

Tonight was our first formal night for this cruise. The first formal night is the most fun, because people really get gussied up. I noticed lots of long formal gowns this time. The other two nights will likely be less formal. Up until tonight, there had just been four of us at our table that is always set for 10. Tonight, two more couples showed up. There is a couple from Fort Lauderdale (though she had a beautiful southern accent and confirmed that she had grown up in Savannah). Also joining us was a couple from Toronto, who seemed very congenial. I'm not sure we'll see either couple again until the next formal night.

Here is the status about Athens: Up until tonight, we were told that the workers for the Ministry of Cultural Affairs were for sure going to be on strike (meaning no museums would be open) and there was a chance that the transportation workers would also be on strike (meaning no tour buses), but that taxis and the metro system would be working. Taking this all into consideration, Bill and I decided to just walk the 20 minutes to the metro and then take the metro into the old city center. We were feeling quite smug about not being impacted by the strike.

During dinner, they made an announcement that the transportation workers were definitely NOT going to be on strike; therefore all of the tour buses would run, but that some tours would need to be canceled. Then, a bit later, they made the final announcement: The workers for the Ministry of Cultural Affairs would NOT be going on strike so all museums would be open after all. Yay! EXCEPT, they went on to say that the metro system and city bus workers WERE going to be on strike (but only between 11 a.m. And 5 p.m.

Yikes! That meant that unless Bill and I could get onto a tour, we were not going to be going into Athens. That is the status as of my writing this post.

Our plan: We noticed that a group of people had organized a tour that was not affiliated with Royal Caribbean, and they were meeting at 8:30 Tuesday morning. So Bill and I are going to go down and see if they have room for us. If they do, we will join them. If they don't, we will need to decide whether or not we want to risk going into Athens before 11 and coming back after 5 (when the metro system workers are supposed to be working. Our other alternative, of course, is to just stay on the ship. I must say given all of the changes throughout the past few days, I'm not terribly comfortable taking their word that they will only be striking between 11 and 5. Our ship leaves port at 6:30, and I truly want to be on this ship when it leaves for Rhodes.
Stay tuned.

In Napoli

Any day that doesn't involve a grown man riding a unicycle made for a Barbie doll has got to be better than the last day. And, we were in Naples.

Bill and I had never been further south than Rome, and so we were eager to visit Naples, but somewhat apprehensive. Father David had warned us to watch our backs, Rick Steves' guide books said to make sure we stayed on well-traveled streets, and our cruise director reminded everyone to be careful.

Naples is the third largest city in Italy (after Rome and Milan), but it feels larger than either. It is crowded, dirty, intense, loud, and full of an energy like I've never experienced anywhere else. I would never choose to spend a lot of time in Naples, but we really enjoyed our day. We did watch our backs, we were very careful, but, as usual, we got lost and walked through local neighborhoods where there were absolutely no tourists. Oh well; two out of three ain't bad, and we made it through alive and with all of our belongings.

Two years ago, when we were in Italy, we had hoped to visit Naples. At that time, however, they had a garbage strike with garbage literally piling up everywhere, and we decided to forgo a trip to Napoli at that time. Bill and I agreed today that we made a good decision, because even today, the streets were full of garbage, but apparently not like it was then.

The local people dress in dark clothes that match their dark coloring. They talk loudly and gesture with their hands. Many of them have dogs with them, so we had to walk very carefully to avoid the ensuing doggie poop. But you'd better not be looking down for poop as you walk, because the people of Naples will not move aside for you. They will walk right into you. They seriously walk as though they are playing chicken (Ah-ha! You flinched!).

Traffic was intense. We found that the only way we could cross a street was to get next to a local and just cross with them, which is never, ever in the crosswalk. You can get killed in a crosswalk. You just step out into the street and walk decisively. Honking, honking, honking.

Scooters are everywhere, and literally ignore traffic lights and signs. Scooters with three or more people on them. Scooter drivers talking on the telephone. Bill even saw a scooter driver reading a newspaper as he drove.

We had Neapolitan coffee, which is dark and delicious. And we had wonderful, wonderful, Neapolitan pizza. Rome and Naples are in constant competition over who makes the best pizza. I know I'm influenced by whatever pizza I've eaten most recently, but today's pizza was unbelievably good. The crust is chewier than Roman pizza, and the flavorings more powerful (not surprising in this city where everything is powerful). I had diavola, which was made with very spicy chunks of salami and a tomato sauce made with pepperincino. Bill had pizza with prosciutto, arugula, and parmaggiano reggiano cheese. We randomly picked a pizzeria which was off the beaten path, and our choice was good.

We saw a piece of art that was one of the most amazing I've seen anywhere, by an artist of whom I've never heard – Giuseppe Sammartino. The statue, carved out of a single piece of marble, shows Jesus lying on pillows on a bed, covered by a thin veil. The veil is so realistic that you almost want to touch it. You can see Jesus' nail wounds on his hands and feet through the veil. It was spectacular.

We got back to the ship early enough to rest some before dinner. After dinner, the evening's production featured the East Coast Boys, who are a take-off on the Jersey Boys, which is the story of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. They were very good, and we enjoyed the show a great deal.

We learned tonight that the office of Cultural Affairs in Greece is going on strike, so we will be unable to visit any of the museums in Athens. We are very disappointed. There was fear that there would also be a transportation strike, but that didn't transpire. That would have impacted all forms of transportation in Athens (and elsewhere in Greece).

Tomorrow is a day at sea as we make our way over to Greece and their striking workers. By the way, we had to turn our clocks forward one last time, so we are now nine hours ahead of our friends and family in Denver. We will stay here until we get Sicily, when we will have the hour back.

Cruise, Part II

Saturday was a very long day.

Our wake-up call came at 5 o'clock, because we wanted to get the heck out of Dodge before the other cruisers (those who were heading off the ship for good) started packing the hallways. We had gotten our new sea passes the night before and we were told we could leave the ship at 5:45.
When we awoke at 5, we noticed our voice message light was flashing. I checked the message and it was from the front desk, frantically telling us that the sea passes we had gotten the night before were no good, and that our stateroom attendant would give us new passes. Our attendant, Michael, dutifully gave us new passes when he arrived at 6 o'clock.

We caught the shuttle that took us from the ship to the entrance to the port, and then set off on foot for the 10 minute walk to the train station. Bill got our round-trip tickets, proudly using his Italian (“due biglietti termini e returno”) and the ticket agent said, in perfect English, “Here's your two round-trip tickets and you're on track 3.” Oh well. Usually they don't speak English.

The train ride took about an hour, and we got off at the Auralia station. Our plan was to take the 247 bus down Auralia Street in Rome until we got to the little restaurant where we enjoyed so many espressos, ciambellei (sugar donuts) and evening meals. We tried to buy bus tickets from the ticket seller at the Auralia Station, but he informed us that unless we had the right change, he couldn't sell us a ticket. I'm talking two tickets would be one euro each (2 euros), and Bill wanted to give him a 5 euro note. Nope. No can do. I simply will never understand why Italians hate – I mean HATE – to make change. So, as a result, we got on the bus without purchasing ANY tickets and kept our fingers crossed. We made it without a hitch. So they really showed us.

After eating our ciambelli, cappuccino, and machiato, we walked the few blocks to the metro station and took the metro train into central Rome. We walked around a couple of churches, and stopped into the big book store that sells English language books. They have a nice selection of English language books with Italian themes, so I bought a couple.

It was drizzling all day, and we, of course, had no umbrellas. So we purchased a couple of cheap umbrellas from a small store run by an Asian man. Before he gave us the umbrellas, he carefully showed us how to open them. Apparently he not only recognized that we weren't Italian, but thought we were from Mars and didn't know how an umbrella worked.

We then took the metro back to the Spanish Steps where we met Bill's nephew, Father David. You remember David who showed us Rome as only one who was very familiar with the Eternal City could show us. We had wonderful pizza and a liter of delicious vino rosso.

It was a quick visit, but we will meet him again at the end of our trip. In the meantime, we needed to begin our journey back to the ship. We retraced our steps – an hour on the train, a 10 minute walk to port entrance, and the shuttle back. We made it just in time before they closed the doors to the ship.

So, we walked up to the security gates, they ran our new and improved sea passes through the machine, and the picture that came up from our passes was neither one of us! They couldn't let us in because we might be terrorists. We were very tired and very wet. And if you think we weren't happy, let me just say all of the people behind us who had to wait as they ran the passes through again and again (with the same result) were also not happy.

They finally agreed to keep our passports and let us go up to the customer service desk to get new sea passes (this makes number 3).

Well, it's the first day of a cruise, and there are 10 million people everywhere, and twice that many at the customer service desk. To make matters worse, they had to send us the long way because someone had fallen down the stairs and they were taking him/her out on a stretcher. I tried to make myself feel better by reminding myself that I was having a better day than that person.

We finally reached a customer service person, they gave us new sea passes, and we made our way back to the security gate to retrieve our passports. On the way back, someone else fell down the steps. By this time I'm thinking, “What in the heck is going on here? We sailed across the Atlantic and didn't see one person fall down the steps. People here are dropping like flies and we haven't even set sail!” Bill and I held on to the railings on the stairs because we were beginning to suspect they had greased the steps as a practical joke.

We got our passports, made it to dinner, which was good. We're at a table for 10, and only one other couple showed up. They were nice, but they weren't like our last table. Sigh. Perhaps they'll all grow on me (after they finally show up anyway).

Finally, we decide to go to the show, despite being so tired. Alas, the entertainment was a unicyclist whose claim to fame was holding the world record for riding the smallest unicycle. He brought out a unicycle with a wheel the size of a quarter, and Bill and I got up and left.

Tasting Tuscan Wine

Today we woke up to what was really the very first terribly yucky day we've had on this entire trip. We docked early this morning in Livorno, which is a port in Tuscany near Pisa. It was very cold, gray, and raining to beat the band. It didn't look as though it had any mind to stop, and, in fact, it never did.

Our original plan was to get off the ship and take a train from Livorno to Certaldo, the Tuscan city in which we lived for a month in 2008. I'm not ashamed to admit that the primary reason I wanted to go to Certaldo was to have the wonderful pastry about which I've had many a dream in the past few years and have never figured out how to recreate.

About a month ago, Bill read in the newspaper that the Italian transportation people were planning a strike on, yes, you guessed it, April 23. We've been following that story since, and the plans have never changed – the strike was on. We simply couldn't risk getting on a train only to have the strike ensue while we were in some Tuscan town. So we bagged that idea and decided instead to do a quick four-hour wine tour. It turned out to be a great idea, though rumor has it that the strike never happened.

I was disappointed that the weather was so bad because the Tuscan countryside is so pretty when the sun shines. But we enjoyed the hour bus drive nevertheless. The little local vineyard was near Lucca. The tour guide warned us before we got there that their wines directly compete with the regional Chianti wines, and suggested we not even say the word Chianti. Remembering the battles between the Florentines and everybody else in the 1400s (and the grudges they hold), we decided to keep our mouths shut.

There were probably 50 or so of us from the ship on the tour, and by the end of the wine tasting, we were all best friends. The wine was delicious, and they accompanied it with local salami and pecorino cheese, olives, and sun-dried tomatoes. Yum.

We got a kick out of the vineyard's dog, named Penelope, who wandered around the tables accepting all of the goodies offered by the tourists. Buona sera Penelope, I said, remembering that dogs in Italy speak Italian.

We enjoyed our last dinner with our dining companions, whom I will miss very much. I worried about 86-year-old Harry all day. He was so excited to show Babe Florence. They survived the tour, but didn't wait around for the tour bus to take them home. Instead, they caught a taxi back to the cruise ship from Florence! Such a New Yawkah.

We said our goodbyes to our stupendous waiters, Valentin and Dorin. I hope our next table will be just as much fun.

Day on the Cote d'Azur

Every day is a wonderful day in the south of France. Ooh la la.

Our wake-up call came at 7 a.m. but we took our time getting ready to go. The ship had to anchor away from port, so we had to be tendered in. Our tender boat took us to Villefranche, a little fishing village, around 9:30.

My husband is fearless. I kid you not. While most people got on tours that took them to Nice or Cannes or Monaco, we took off searching for the city bus that would take us from Villefranche to Nice. After walking around for 30 – 45 minutes looking for the bus stop, Bill finally said to me, “Maybe I should have followed those signs to the bus that were posted where our tender ship let us off.” Seriously? There were signs? Yes, but he thought he knew a shorter way.

However, having wagered that complaint, I have to say that it's the times we get lost that we see the prettiest parts of the towns. We wandered through the winding back streets of the little French village where we met local residents and their pets. “Bonjour, Messr. Dog,” we remembered to say, as we were aware that the dogs in France speak French.

We finally found the bus stop, thanks to the single nice person in France, who overheard me say something about the bus station and PROACTIVELY told us how to get there. In broken English! Without being asked! To Americans!

After getting off the bus in Nice, we worked our way over to the old part of the town that is just up from the beach.

We had spent two or three days in Nice two years ago when we traveled in Europe, and so we had a few things we wanted to revisit. We started out by having a cafe au lait in a cafe overlooking the market as we watched the cruise ship tourists frantically shopping. After getting refreshed, we took off to find our old stomping grounds.

We found everything we sought, and ate the following things in the following order: a baguette from the boulangerie that Rick Steves describes as the best in France, a gelato from what Kris described two years ago as the best I ate in all of Europe, a socca (which is fried ground-up chickpeas with a texture similar to a frittata), and a crepe filled with nutella. We ran out of stomach room for the moules e frites (mussels and french fries), so we'll have to come back in a couple of years.

We found the bus stop again, and took the bus back to Villafranche. Before we got back on the tender boat, we sat at a beautiful cafe right next to the harbor and drank some wine and ate some garlicky olives.

As could be predicted, we got involved in drama. Sitting next to us were two local French women, obviously rich and spoiled. I'm not sure what their problem was, but they were clearly unhappy with something – their food maybe, or the wind that at one point blew their umbrella open. They were having a serious confrontation with their waiter, and all of a sudden they began to try and involve me. Me! Me? She kept pointing to me and saying something to me in French. I seriously have no idea what she was saying. Apparently whatever was making her unhappy was supposed to also be making me unhappy. But I wasn't unhappy. In fact, I was very happy to be sitting next to the Mediterranean and drinking wine and eating olives as the sun shone down on me and my wonderful husband. I looked like a deer in the headlights as I tried to figure out what she was saying. I never did.

At one point, the waiter came over and asked us if we would like to move away from the women. We said no. Why miss the fun?

Each night there is a big production in the theater on Deck 3. Last night's show featured The Counterfeit BeeGees. I kid you not. That was their name. And sure enough, the looked like (and sounded like) Maurice, Robin and Barry Gibbs. The show was very entertaining.

Afterwards we came back up to our room and watched the Mardis Gras parade down the Royal Promenade from our window. It was colorful and fun. Afterwards, I went down and got us each a little sandwich from the cafe. It hit me as I was walking back: this is what happens to you when you're on a cruise. If, on any given night back at home, at 10:30, Bill was to say to me, “Kris, would you care for a ham sandwich? I'll be happy to make it for you and bring it up to you in bed,” I would tell him he was absolutely crazy. But somehow it seems like normal behavior. And I don't even care that much for sandwiches!

Barcelona

Today was a wonderful day from start to finish, even if my feet hurt.

We woke up at 6:30, and I went downstairs to get our coffee. I stepped outside on the deck to see if we had docked yet, and I couldn't see a thing, thanks to fog as thick as pea soup. Yuck, I thought. It's going to be a wet and nasty day.

We drank our coffee and went up to Deck 11 for our breakfast and to see how awful the weather was, and to our delight, the sky was blue and the ship had reached the harbor in Barcelona. Hooray! We watched as the captain turned the ship 360 degrees inside the relatively small space of the harbor. Nothing like flipping a u-ey with a cruise ship! It really is fascinating to watch them park a cruise ship the size of the Navigator of the Seas.

They finally let us disembark around 9, and we high-tailed it to our shuttle bus that took us the few blocks into the city, and to the foot of Las Ramblas, the main pedestrian street in Barcelona. We had walked up and down that same street dozens of time when we were in Barcelona two years ago, and it was fun to see some of the familiar sights.

We stopped in the large market to look at the displays of fruits and vegetables, fish and seafood, and unusual meats. We laughed out loud at the whole pigs that were in the display case. Wouldn't the grandkids love it if Nana brought one of those pigs out of the oven for Easter dinner.

We worked our way all the way down the Ramblas to a huge (and I really mean huge) department store near the other end. After wandering around that store for a bit, we began walking again. Many, many steps later, Bill asked me if I wanted to go see the Sagrada de Familia, which is the amazing church designed by Gaudi with the intricate sculptures all over the outside of the church. It is one of my favorite things of everything we've ever seen in Europe. HoweverI said no, that I thought it was too far. Bill pointed ahead, and I saw that we had walked so far that we were actually within a few blocks of the unique church.

By this time, my feet were starting to hurt and I was getting hungry, but I thought that we couldn't be that close and not see the church. The last time we had visited the church, it had been Mother's Day in 2008. It was very quiet that day. Today was not quiet. There was an unbelievable number of people – many school-aged. Perhaps they were on school trips.

We made our way back to the big department store, which had a supermercado in the basement. We bought a couple of sandwiches – good Spanish serrano ham on croissants, and two Coca Cola Lights. We ate them in a plaza outside the store, where the pigeons eyed our sandwiches with hungry looks.

After lunch, we made our way back to the shuttle bus, but this time we walked through the old part of the city – the Gothic section – where our apartment had been located when we spent four days here in 2008. We were not able to find the narrow street where the apartment was located, but we knew we were in the vicinity. We did find a little grocery store where we bought a half bottle of wine, which we enjoyed in another nearby plaza.

By time we got back to the ship, we were tired and our hips and feet were sore. I got into the hot tub and let the jets sooth my aching body.

At dinner, we all compared stories. Everyone enjoyed Barcelona. And almost as good – an unexpected second lobster night!

Crankiness

Our wake-up call came at 5 a.m., just as we had requested. My, that felt very early. We threw on some warm clothes and made our way down to the Royal Promenade to grab a cup of coffee to take up to the 14th deck with us. We saw one other person in the hallway, and I thought, “Wow. There is one other hearty soul that wants to see the Strait.”

Well, as we got closer and closer to Deck 5, the sound rose. It turned out there were many, many other hearty souls, and apparently the ship's food management hadn't anticipated that kind of interest in seeing the Strait of Gibraltar. It was crazy in the Royal Promenade Cafe. They were out of regular coffee (Really? Decaf at 5 a.m.?) They had no sweet rolls in the showcase; instead they still had their sandwiches that they offer in the evening.

We got our decaf coffee and a cookie to get us going, and went up to Deck 12. As soon as we stepped outside, the wind hit us. I'm not exaggerating when I say that the wind nearly knocked me off my feet as we made our way to the front of the ship. I've never felt anything like it. Luckily there is a bar up on Deck 14 that remains unlocked even when it's not open, and that's where we parked (along with many, many others).

The trouble was, it never got light enough for us to see anything but some flickering lights in the distance. We knew the ones on one side were in Africa and the ones on the other side were in Spain. By time it was 6:30 and still no light, we went back up to our room and checked the ship's location on the GPS they have running on one of the TV channels. Sure enough, we were past the Rock of Gibraltar. So, we crawled back in bed and slept until 9:30.

It's very chilly out today. I find it interesting that it was so sunny and relatively warm as we crossed the Atlantic; however, as soon as we reach the Mediterranean Sea, it turned chilly. My guess is it will be somewhat cool in Barcelona, and then will warm up in Nice.

In addition to noticing the cooler temperature, I'm also noticing how cranky people have gotten. Seriously, everywhere we were today, we ran into people complaining about one thing or another, or simply scowling at each other. An example: After lunch, Bill and I got a little frozen yogurt cone from the wonderful soft serve machine. We stepped into the elevator, and there was a man already there. I grinned at him, pointed to my ice cream cone, and said, “Calcium!” He looks at my cone, snarls, and says, “Fat pill.” I kid you not. I was so taken aback that I said, “That was mean.” He didn't seem repentant.

Anyway, I don't know if it's the cooler weather, or if people are just getting tired of being on this ship and sick of each other, but I hope there is an attitude adjustment tomorrow after we enjoy ourselves in Barcelona.

But I'm happy to report that when we got to our table for dinner, all of our dinner companions were as cheerful as always. They really have been such a joy to eat with each night. Harry, who is 86, is totally dismayed by the fact that he hasn't been able to get any Mets scores. If anyone reading this blog can give me a rundown on how the Mets have been performing, please let me know via the comments and you will make a sweet man very happy. Don't bother with the Yankees, because apparently if you are a Mets fan, you hold your nose over the Yankees. It's the Mets and the Giants. A hex on the Yankees and the Jets!

Tomorrow we'll be in Barcelona.

Into the Med

We're back at sea, and it was a very quiet day. While the sun was shining, it seemed cooler today. For this reason, Bill and I spent most of the day indoors.

Last night was the final time change, and I can't say I'm disappointed. Having the time change take place at night instead of during the day doesn't work as well for us. It just makes us sleep later in the morning and so I feel as though we miss an hour of the day anyway. I imagine people who regularly enjoy sleeping later in the morning prefer it this way. At any rate, we are now eight hours behind our friends and family in Denver, and that's how it will remain the rest of the trip.

We worked out this morning and then had lunch. After lunch, Bill and I each read our books, but in different venues. Bill, as usual, went to the cigar lounge. I went to a bar that has a lovely view of the ocean, and had a martini that lasted me several hours.

Tonight was the final formal night – at least for this cruise. Bill looked at his suit, and I looked at my dresses, and we finally confided in each other that we had no desire to put them on. So instead we went to Johnny Rockets and had a greasy hamburger and a milkshake, and enjoyed the heck out of it. Others apparently don't share out feelings because there are a lot of folks around the ship dressed up.

While eating our hamburgers, we watched a couple of ships that were in the distance. One seemed to be coming directly toward our ship, and Bill speculated that it might be a pirate ship. “Do they ever attack cruise ships?” I asked. “It's been known to happen,” Bill said. So we made our plans about what we were going to do if the pirates attacked us. It had to do with the catsup bottle and a big squirt.

Captain Eric announced today that at about 5:15 tomorrow morning we will be entering the Strait of Gibraltar. During our transatlantic cruise in 2008, we passed through the Strait in the afternoon, but it was very cloudy and we couldn't really see anything. Tomorrow is supposed to be clear, but gosh, at 5:15 it will still be pretty dark. Nevertheless, the opportunity to see Spain on our left and Africa on our right is too tempting. We are going to leave a 5 o'clock wake-up call and will be sitting in the sky bar, coffee cup in hand, trying to make out land before sunrise. The captain told us there is a chance there will be enough daylight at about 5:45 to see something. We'll see how that works out.

Land Ho

We stepped on solid ground around 8:30 or so this morning. Bill had hoped to watch the ship dock, but by time we got up and dressed and outside, the ship was already tied down. I think I felt us shutter to a stop around 5 a.m.

The tour buses were lined up like ants, ready to take people on their assigned tours. Bill and I, just as we had planned, walked the mile or so into the city center of Santa Cruz on the Island of Tenerife. We had hoped to find a church where we could attend Sunday Mass, but while I'm sure they were all around us, we didn't spot one.

What we did spot, however, were televisions all over the place, all tuned to a Formula 1 race. Bill said there is currently a Spaniard that drives a Ferrari in Formula 1 racing, and so that has made the Spanish people much more interested in racing. We enjoyed an espresso while Bill watched a bit of the race. I, frankly, don't know how you tell a Ferrari race car from a Renault race car (if there is such a thing), and I never can tell who's winning. So I just watched the men chewing on cigars and watching the race.

I had forgotten that it was Sunday, and so most of the stores were closed. I always naively think that since it's a port city, they will disregard the Sunday store and restaurant closure. But that wasn't the case. There were a few souvenir shops open, but all of the nice stores were closed, as were a lot of the restaurants.

Bill and I did find a Valor Chocolate Shop that was open. One of the things they enjoy in Spain (or at least parts of Spain) is a cup of very thick chocolate (with a consistency somewhere between hot chocolate and chocolate pudding), with crispy fried churros to dip into the chocolate. Bill and I ordered one cup which came with four churros. We ate about half before our stomachs started hurting from the greasy sweetness. The waitress managed to spill chocolate on my white sweater, so that seemed to be a sign that we should go back to the ship.

It was very quiet, and I enjoyed reading by the pool before going down for the sail-away party that began at 3:30. We also attended Mass on the ship at 4:30.

As we prepared to set sail, the ship's captain, Captain Eric who hails from Norway, gave his daily report. I finally must admit that I simply don't understand a word he says. He seems very pleasant, but I always hope that he's not saying anything like, “I hope you don't mind that prior to taking over command of this ship, I never drove anything larger than a scooter.” He gives a lot of numbers – you know, latitude and longitude and Celsius – but I haven't a clue what the numbers mean. I finally confessed at dinner that I couldn't understand him, and I was pleased to hear that our table mates agreed entirely. Not a word.

Karma and Disco Balls

I think I might have slightly reversed my bad karma on Saturday, but I'm not sure.

Saturday was a really perfect day as far as the weather goes. It was sunny, in the 60s, and the winds were calm. Instead of working out in the gym, we took a long walk up on the 12th deck walking track, where five times around is a mile.

Given that the weather was so nice, we decided to play putt putt golf after lunch. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that we weren't the only ones with that idea. Still, it was fun to watch how others play on a fairly badly maintained putt putt course on a ship that is rocking back and forth. Turns out no one was very good, so I wasn't too embarrassed to play. Bill beat me by two strokes.

But here's where karma comes into play. You might remember how I unintentionally insulted the blind woman the other day. Well, just as we were finishing up the last hole, here come five or six women wearing sunglasses and carrying white canes. I kid you not. These blind women were going to play miniature golf.

What the heck, I thought. They probably couldn't play much worse than we had played. Just then, one of the women said to me, “Miss, do you think you could help us?” (Apparently word about the evil blind-hating woman hadn't reached their ears yet.) Ah ha! Here was my chance to make up for my rude behavior a few days ago. “Of course,” I said. “How can I help you?”

She said to me, “As you can see, none of us can see very well. Can you tell me if this is the first hole?”

I said, “No, as a matter of fact, it's the last hole. Would you like me to show you where the first hole is located?”

She enthusiastically said yes, that would be great. I wasn't quite sure how to proceed, so I said, “What do you want me to do? Should I hold you?”

She said, “No, I don't think so. We just met!”

Seriously. I can't make this stuff up. Anyway, I led them over to where they get their golf balls and clubs, and pointed to the first hole, and walked away as quickly as possible so that I couldn't do any harm. So I think I might have done some karma damage control.

Now, there is only one thing that is more popular on cruise ships than lobster day, and that is the 70s Disco Party. Tonight was the night.

Bill and I got a very good seat, sitting at a bar in the Royal Promenade, where the party would take place at 10:30 p.m. At about 10, they started playing disco music, and people started getting excited. One thing in particular made me laugh. A couple suddenly began dancing. Now it wasn't as though there lots of people dancing; it was only them. They were not young. I'm bad with ages, but my best guess says that during the disco era, they were not young adults that hung out in dance clubs. In 1979, they were long married, and were in the midst of car pools and coaching little league. Today, they had to be in their late 60s or early 70s. But they were having a great time, and everyone was clapping and urging them on. I just kept thinking, wouldn't their grandkids be surprised to see Gammie and Poopah out dancing their butts off to a crowd of clapping people?

Everyone is feeling pretty happy that we will be in port tomorrow. We will disembark at 8 a.m., and must be back on ship by 3:30 in the afternoon. Most people have a tour, but Bill and I will just wander, as we usually do. The port is walking distance to Santa Cruz, the largest city on Tenerife. The first thing we must do is find an ATM because we have no euros. We do have our credit cards, however.

It will be good to have our feet on solid ground for a change. It's been awhile.

Groundhog Day

This morning Bill asked me, “Is it starting to feel like we're in the movie Groundhog Day?”

“Are you bored?” I asked him. “No, not a bit,” he replied. I know what he meant. Neither of us is bored, but our days have settled into sort of a routine that doesn't have much opportunity to vary. On our last transatlantic cruise, we were very interested in participating in all of the activities. I don't know if we're older or if it's more of a been there, done that thing. This time we are less inclined to attend any lectures or shows if they involve standing in a line.

I also am less interested in the lectures themselves. Last time there was a great lecture series on Hollywood stars that was nothing but fluff and fun. The lecture series this time is a much more grown up history and geography of the places we will be visiting. That should, for all intents and purposes, be interesting. I've tried a couple of the lectures, however, and the lecturer drives me crazy. He has some sort of speech impediment that causes him to pronounce his r's like w's. The womantic Wenaissance pewiod stawted in Flowence, which is neaw Wome. I feel like I'm listening to Ming Ming on Wonder Pets.

Since we didn't attend the show last night (a violinist – ho hum), we got to bed at a reasonable hour. So I was up early enough to bring coffee up to our room, enjoy a cup, and then go to morning Mass. The priest is a crabby Jesuit who appears to want us to feel sorry for him because he has this cruise ship duty. I don't.

Bill worked out early, and then we settled into our day. It involved breakfast, a short morning nap, and reading. I've been working out in the afternoon, since that seems to be a quieter time in the gym. After my workout, I always check the menu outside our dining room to see if there will be something yummy to eat for dinner. There always is. As I indicated before, the food has been very good.

Both our head waiter and his assistant are from Romania. I'm continually impressed at how good they are. They have, I think, two or three tables that they take care of for each dinner seating. This involves probably 20 to 25 people. They remember our names from the start. They pay attention to what we drink and eat. The first night Bill and I asked for ice tea. The assistant waiter brought our tea, and was taking away my first course plate. As he was doing so, I took my lemon from the plate he was removing and squeezed it into my ice tea. The next night, and every night since, he brought us tea without our asking, and mine always has two lemon wedges in it.

Similarly, Bill has taken a liking to these tiny little caraway seed rolls they serve. The first thing the assistant waiter does is bring by the tray of various, and all delicious, rolls. He immediately noticed that I like the French rolls and he always puts three of the tiny caraway rolls on Bill's plate.

When this cruise ship docks in Rome, the head waiter gets to go home to Romania for a while. He has been on the ship for six months. He told us the first night that he is engaged to be married, and Bill told him last night that every night that we get closer to Rome, he seems to smile more. He has an engaging grin, and he certainly smiled at that remark.

Tonight we watched the sun go down around 9 o'clock, and hit the sack early.

Lobster Night

Heavens to Betsy. We slept until nearly 10 Thursday morning. I woke up to find our room attendant putting a mirror under my nose! This nightly time change is going to kill me.

Having gotten up so late, Bill and I simply bagged breakfast and started our day with lunch. After lunch, we went to a lesson on beginning French. The young woman teaching the class handed us a vocabulary sheet, and we quickly noticed that she was teaching such phrases as “Where are you from?” and “How old are you?” Nowhere on the sheet did I see anything quite as useful as “Could I please have two glasses of red wine?” Now, Bill and I have spent enough time in France to know that there is not a single French man or woman who is going to ask me where I'm from because they couldn't possibly be less interested. And I can't imagine a circumstance under which I would ask anyone in France (or elsewhere, for that matter) how old they are. As for ordering wine, I guess I can hold up two fingers and say vin rouge.

The treadmills in the health club are lined up in front of a huge window in the front of the ship, so as we walk on the treadmill, we see the same thing the captain sees as he commandeers the ship. As I walked this morning, I noticed that the sea appears to be calm. I didn't see a single white cap. And yet, the ship seems to be rocking and rolling a lot more than it has been. I didn't hear the captain's noon report, so it might just be my imagination.

Anyone who has been on a cruise knows that there is no bigger occasion on the ship than LOBSTER NIGHT! And Thursday night was the big night. Clad in our dressy attire (it was the ship's second formal night), we enjoyed the massive lobster tail and shrimp that were laying in a pool of garlicky butter. It was immensely good. Nearly everyone in the dining room ordered it, and you saw plenty of people licking their fingers or dipping their bread in the flavorful butter.

Speaking of dinner, I will tell you a bit about our table mates for this first cruise. We once again lucked out and are dining with interesting and fun travelers.

There are eight of us at our table. Two of the diners are kind of hit and miss. In fact, given that they haven't been at the table for the past couple of nights might mean they have chosen to dine elsewhere. Peter and Tula are originally from Greece, but currently live in Florida. He speaks with a heavy Greek accent, and she rarely speaks at all. I see him daily in the gym, lifting massive weights.

Rich and Ellie are originally from New York City, but currently live in a town near Orlando, Florida. (It is interesting to note that Bill and I are the only ones at our table who don't live in Florida.) Rich and Ellie grew up a few houses from each other in the Italian section of the Bronx, and have known each other their whole lives. They were married right out of high school. He was a New York police detective, and then took a job in security for the Whitney Museum after retiring from the police force. She stayed home until the kids were grown, and then was in administration for IBM. He is a wannabe writer and tells wonderful stories during dinner.

The last couple, Harry and Babe (I think her name is Mary, but she introduced herself to us as Babe) also hails from NYC. Harry grew up in the tenements on the lower east side of Manhattan. He is one of 11 children. He told us last night that his father was a rabbi and his mother cooked. He was in the retail clothing business. He loves the New York Post and the Mets, and adores Babe. He was married once before, but his wife died. He met Babe a few years later. He told me the other night that he has only loved two women in his life -- his wife and Babe. Babe is a tiny woman who, oddly enough, also worked for IBM, and who lives to play tennis.

Following dinner, Bill and I changed into our swim suits and soaked in one of the hot tubs for a bit. We watched the sun set, then went to bed early (though we had to changed the clocks again, so we still lost an hour of sleep).

Friday is supposed to be cooler and rockier.

Faux Pas

My friends and family know that I always strike up conversations with strangers in lines. I feel awkward at social events, but put me in line next to people I don't know, and before you know it, I know how long they have been married and how many children they have.

So, Wednesday morning I was standing in line at one of the buffet counters and I hear the woman behind me (or at least I think I hear her) say, “I wish I had brought my glasses. I can't see what it is that they're serving.” The woman with her says, “Well, that bowl has fried squid.” “Yuck,” says the woman with no glasses.

Without a second thought, I turned around with a big smile and said, “See, you really should have brought your glasses, huh?” I'm waiting for her to smile back at me, but instead she looks at me with shock and says, “What glasses?” With a feeling of impending doom, I sense the conversation heading south very quickly. “Ah, well, you said you wish you had brought your glasses. You aren't wearing them and so you almost put squid on your plate. You can't read the signs if you don't have your glasses.” Am I talking too loudly, I wonder?

The woman continues to look at me with something close to horror. “I'm legally blind,” she finally says.

Sweet heavenly Jesus. I sputter my sincere apologies and go flying back to our table. Bill asks me what's wrong. I ask him to let me just wallow in my bottomless embarrassment for a bit. But I guess my embarrassment wasn't bottomless, because a few minutes later Bill assured me that I wouldn't see her ever again, and my response was, “Well, I know she won't see me!” Ar ar ar ar.

I told Bill, that was it; I simply was finished striking up conversations with strangers. As I was saying this, we were heading over to the soft serve machine (which, I'm happy to say, serves delicious low-fat yogurt rather than ice cream; I mean, it practically burns calories as you eat it!) and got behind a man making himself a cone. He made the cone flawlessly, and before I could stop myself, I said, “You work at Dairy Queen, don't you?” He turned to me, gave me a funny look, and left. At least he didn't have any disabilities that I could see. I have begun to realize that I am physically incapable of refraining from conversations with strangers.

The hour change got to us again. We slept until past 9 o'clock. In fact, I might still be sleeping if our stateroom attendant hadn't knocked on our door (apparently to see if we were still breathing). Perhaps that's how I can stay out of trouble – just keep sleeping.

We spent most of the day reading and relaxing. I did watch the salsa class for a bit. There's something just wrong about salsa being taught by a young woman with an Australian accent, but she did a fine job anyway.

Dinner was very good. We decided, as a matter of fact, that we think the food on the Navigator is better than what we had on the Voyager two years ago. But, my God! They are killing us with the cookies. What are you supposed to do when you are wandering around the Royal Promenade and the smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies hits your nose and you see a young woman carrying around a tray of cookies? Oh, and you're on a cruise ship where you stop thinking about calories? You eat a fresh cookie three or four times a day. But that's okay. I just go have one of those calorie-burning frozen yogurt cones to offset the caloric intake.

The show last night was ballroom dancing. While the entertainers on the ship are not quite as good as Dancing With the Stars, it was a great show anyway. And we were really grown ups and stayed up for the Adult Comedy Show at 11 p.m. With the time change, that was really midnight. We rolled into bed at 1:30 (taking the time change into consideration). That's later than I've stayed up in years! And, of course we had a fresh chocolate chip cookie on our way up to our stateroom.

People Watching

One of the realities of having an inside room (alas, our room is an inside room even though we over look the Promenade) is that you don't have any sense of the rising of the morning sun. As a result, Bill and I are sleeping later and later. This morning we were awakened by a telephone call announcing that our breakfast, which we had requested to have delivered to our room the night before, was on its way. We quickly flew out of bed and threw on our robes and tried to make it seem as though we had been up for quite some time. As though our room service attendant cared what time we awoke.

We have discovered that one of the best places to hang out during the day is in any of the bars that overlook the ocean. They are not open until after lunch, and they are quiet places to read and watch the passers-by.

And speaking of our fellow passengers, I have some stories and observations to report.

I have observed an inordinate number of couples holding hands. I think that is just wonderful. I'm sure this cruise is a honeymoon or a second honeymoon for many people. I have also been thinking about the stories behind each of the couples I see holding hands.

For example: Today we ate lunch in the formal dining room as opposed to the buffet. When you eat in the dining room, you are seated at tables of six, and you will be seated wherever they need two more people to fill up a table. As a result, you eat with different people each time, and if you like them or not is the luck of the draw. Today we ate with an elderly couple who, we learned, were celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary (and it had not a first marriage for either of them). He was 88, and she was likely somewhere near that age. The other four people were of Asian descent. I saw the waiter ask one of the Asian men a question, and he responded that he didn't speak English. I made the assumption, therefore, that none of the four spoke English.

We commenced to have a fairly lengthy conversation with the older couple who, we learned, was on their 46th cruise. Forty-six. Wow. Anyway, somehow Bill and he got to talking about being in the service, and he mentioned that he was a Marine, and had been stationed in Korea during the Korean conflict. Suddenly the Asian man sitting to my left, who I had presumed didn't speak English, said he and his wife were from Korea, and he asked the older man where he had been stationed. He told him where and what year he had been in Korea. The Korean man then, in the most beautiful voice and with the most beautiful choice of words, told us how, prior to that conflict, the people of Korea had been so poor and the country had been in such financial and political trouble, and that now it was a flourishing country with a strong economy. “We would not be where we were if it weren't for the Americans, and I want to thank you.” The table was speechless for a moment. It was amazing.

In the afternoon, Bill went to the cigar bar and I went first, to a cooking demonstration by the executive sous chef, and then to watch the swing dance lessons. The cooking demonstration was interesting, but it was the dance lesson that I enjoyed the most. It was packed with probably 20 couples of all ages, nationalities, sizes and dancing skills. Well, actually, the dancing skills were somewhat limited. What struck me, however, is how absolutely earnest the couples were as they watched, listened and then tried to carry out what they were being taught. Sappy as it sounds, it literally brought tears to my eyes (and not just because of the lack of skill!). They were so joyful and so eager and so self-confident. There was a woman among the dancers who didn't have a dance partner. She would dance the steps all by herself as others danced around her. In a million years, I wouldn't have the confidence to do that. She seemed so at peace with herself, and she seemed to be having so much fun.

After dinner, there was a comedian/magician who put on a wonderful show. While he does perform some magic, he mostly made us laugh. He really was very funny, and Bill and I enjoyed the show very much.

One final note, apparently each captain decides how he wants to handle the time change. During our last transatlantic cruise, the captain had us change our clocks at noon each day. This captain has us do it at night. I imagine he's trying to not take time away from us during the day. The consequence, however, is shorter nights, which also results in us sleeping later in the morning. But, it is vacation, after all.

Quiet day at sea

Our 3rd day at sea was perhaps the quietest of all thus far. We tried being outside a bit, but it was quite windy and uncomfortable. There were a number of hearty souls sitting out by the pool, and Bill did a couple of laps around the promenade deck.

As he did so, I walked around the ship and browsed in areas I had not yet seen. I stumbled upon a group of square dancers in the most unlikely of locations – a bar called the Dungeon. At night, it apparently is the spot for alternative rock music for hip twenty-somethingers. But amidst the gargoyles and skeletons that made up the décor, the cheerful dancers doe-see-doed. It was fun to watch. I recalled my neighbors when growing up in Columbus, Nebraska, who were square dancers. She had the most beautiful dancing gowns with layers upon layers of petticoat that I'm sure swished when she danced. But I digress....

After lunch, we went to the very top deck and looked down at the ocean and the ne'er say die vacationers sitting by the pool as our ship cruised along. It was quite relaxing. After a three-mile run on the elliptical, Bill and I went down to the tiny theater and watched the daily movie, along with 30 or so others. The little theater was packed to the brim.

For dinner, instead of going to the dining room and eating with our regular table mates, Bill and I elected to go to one of the premium restaurants on board the Navigator, the Portofino. It is a wonderful Italian restaurant, at which you pay a $20 per person fee to eat. We enjoyed a delicious four-course meal, and split a bottle of wonderful red wine.

We ate later than usual, and it was a two-hour meal, and as a result, the dining room was emptying out as we finished the last of our wine. The chef came out and introduced himself to each table. He was from Jamaica, and had quite a few months to go before he could go back home to his family.

I find the individual stories of the service people on board the ship to be very interesting. Our waitress, for example, is from the Philippines, and her husband is also on board the ship. He works on the housekeeping staff. She said Royal Caribbean keeps families together. Our regular nightly waiter is from Romania, and his six months (that's the length of the time they work on the ship) ends when we get to Rome. He is eagerly awaiting connecting again with his fiancée in Romania.

There was a dancing party by the pool that began at 11 p.m., but Bill and I were long since in bed.

Bubbles at Sea

If days had themes, yesterday's theme would have been champagne. We didn't plan it. It just happened.

It started with our Cruise Critic Meet and Greet at noon, where they offered us champagne to sip while we ate a few munchies and met some of our fellow travelers. Then, Bill was one of the lucky winners of the raffle drawing (I told him he should go put some tokens into the slot machine), and what did he win? You guessed it – a bottle of champagne. Finally, last night was our first formal dinner, and the Captain held his reception in the Royal Promenade. White-coated waiters offered us sparkling glasses of champagne. I felt like a grown-up in my cocktail dress drinking the bubbly wine surrounded by people in suits, tuxes and a beautiful array of cocktail gowns.

The weather was lovely, about 75 and mostly sunny. We attended morning Mass, and then spent much of the day enjoying the sun at the pool or elsewhere on the ship. We watched a father and son compete to climb the highest on the climbing wall. (It was a tie.) We watched some senior citizens play paddle tennis (and they were quite good). We observed the mandatory belly flop contest. (Two Germans against two Americans. Europeans men shouldn't even THINK they can compete against pot-bellied American men. The Americans won, of course.)

We did quite a bit of walking, and I spent 45 minutes in the gym while Bill did the stair-stepper for a bit. We're trying hard to stay ahead of our eating.

As I mentioned before, it was our first formal night. Everyone dresses up the most, I think, for the first formal dinner, and then it eases up. As we wandered around the Promenade sipping our champagne, I really did have a sense of being on a very elegant ship such as the Titanic or the Queen Mary back in the days. They even had a dance band playing hits from the forties. But, alas, pretty soon the disco ball came down and the music became more contemporary. Bill and I went up to bed.

One note: At Mass, during the prayers of the faithful, our priest suggested we pray for those taking a cruise to try and save a relationship, or who were taking what will likely be a final cruise, or for those suffering (or recovering) from a serious illness, etc. It made me think about the fact that everyone I see, standing behind them in the buffet line or watching them play golf or seeing them walk briskly along the track on the 12th deck, has a story. Realizing that makes me look at people a little differently. I hope it also makes me more patient. And it's fun to try to imagine their story.

Today looks to be a sunny and warm day again. Hoorah! We're enjoying them while we have them.

Setting Sail

It's midafternoon and Bill and I are getting settled into our little (and it is little) room on the 8th deck of the Navigator of the Sea. We got on early, feeling like smug worldly cruisers because we knew we didn't have to wait until the 2 o'clock check-in time. Sure enough, when we checked in at about noon, there was no line and we got onto the ship in short order.

Let's go grab lunch, we decided, since our room wouldn't be ready until 1 o'clock. Ah ha. We weren't the only worldly cruisers. The Windjammer Cafe was PACKED. Not a table to be had. So we did what needed to be done. We found a table by the pool and ordered a beer.

Let me just point out that the minute we got off the plane at the Miami airport, we knew we weren't in Kansas anymore. You could feel the warmth and humidity even as we walked through the tunnel from the plane to the terminal. As we took the long walk down the terminal to baggage claim, we saw a multitude of extremely thin women with enormous breasts carrying unrealistically small dogs. The wonders of liposuction and breast enhancement (the women, not the dogs).

I love Miami. I love the palm trees, the pretty flowers, the diversity of people you see and languages you hear, the pink, yellow, and turquoise buildings, and the unique downtown skyline. The buildings are seriously beautiful, all interesting shapes and sizes.

We went to the Bayside area for a late lunch, and then took the Metro Mover back to our room to relax before we got ready to meet some new friends at Versailles Restaurant in the Little Havana area of the city.

Bill connected with these new friends on Cruise Critic, an Internet site where people who are cruising can “chat.” He signed us up to join eight or 10 people, all who are on this particular cruise, at this famous Cuban Restaurant, which has been in the same location since the sixties. The food was delicious. Bill had roast pork and I had yummy sticky oxtail stew. We got to know some of the people who are on this cruise. Despite the fact that this ship holds 3,000 or so, it's funny how you do run into people over and over. In fact, I've already run into the lovely couple from Hershey, PA, that we sat next to last night.

Once we had lunch, we began exploring the ship. This is my favorite day of the cruise. I love walking around and seeing the different restaurants and lounges, finding the health club, seeing what shops are available on the Royal Promenade, which we see from our stateroom window. We got signed up for the Internet, we checked out the times that the health club is open, we located the restaurant where we will dine each night, and in fact, found the table where we will sit.

At 4:30, we have our mandatory muster drill, at which we will learn what to do in case the ship begins to sink. I will attend, of course, but I already know what I will do if said ship begins to sink – have a heart attack and die. Still, I love to put the life vests on. I look good in orange. Doesn't everyone?

Tonight we will meet our dinner companions, and see our first show. Let the fun begin!

Our bags are packed and we're ready to go....

Whew. We have worked so hard preparing for this vacation that I need a vacation. Luckily, seven straight days at sea should make me as relaxed as an old perm!

We have managed to fit 30 days worth of living into two checked bags and three carry-on bags. The two checked bags are less than 50 lbs each to avoid having to pay the excess weight charge. To compensate (after all, we had to fit our heavy things such as shoes, electronic equipment and, of course, books somewhere), our carry-on bags will likely result in one or more pulled back muscles. Still, we will have those seven days at sea to recuperate. So what if we are incapacitated and therefore unable to take paso doble lessons?

Packing for a trip such as this is a true test of marital tolerance. Bill managed to refrain from saying one word about the books I am bringing (not even once mentioning that there is a library on board the ship), perhaps merely feeling smug since he purchased an ereader a few months ago. I, for my part, also managed to bite my tongue as he packed more pants and shirts than he will wear the entire rest of the summer. To be fair, it is difficult to know exactly what to bring on a two-pronged trip like we are taking. We will likely experience all sorts of weather, from a chilly transatlantic crossing to the sunny climes of the Mediterranean during the second cruise.

In preparation for the vacation, Bill lost a total of 25 lbs., and I lost a total of 18 lbs. We are still flabby, and our skin color is as white as a clean cotton ball, but at least innocent children will not be diving overboard the second they see us in our swimsuits. We intend to walk plenty and exercise daily, but given the sheer amount of food available to us 24 hours a day, we will see how long we are able to maintain our current weight.

Our daughter picks us up at 5:30 tomorrow morning, and at 7:50, our plane takes off for Miami, where we begin our lovely adventure.