Home Tonight

As Steven Tyler belts out in "Home Tonight", "Now is time to bid you sweet adieu!".  No post on Sunday or yesterday because bad weather forced us to sail from Colliouere directly to Monte Carlo on Sunday.   We barely ventured outside our cabin and, when we did for lunch, nearly got blown off the back of the ship.  Nothing quite like eating a near-gourmet lunch with a blanket wrapped around you in a good stiff wind!

On these types of trips, you always meet some people you really like (and some you don't).  In the former category, we met Jan and Ted Teasdale from Australia - he of the "She led with her chin" comment to which he added a few other colorful metaphors I won't soon forget (e.g., "crash hot" which means people who are pretentious).   They were absolutely charming and a ton of fun to be with, so they definitely make the Christmas card list and, perhaps a visit in Kewdale, West Australia someday.

Joining the Teasdales on the really like list were Dr. and Mrs. Schulman who you met in the "Cooling off in Colliouere" blog . . he as the post-stroke patient the underperforming travel company made walk up the steep hill only to go back down it.   Can't wait to fire up a letter to them telling them how ridiculous that was.  And, joining them was "the Brit" - Vic Duffy.   While it is true that there are different dialects in the UK, this one registered in the barely understandable category.   But he was so damn quick with a laugh and a smile, we found him absolutely charming.

Make no mistake, though, that there's no better traveling than with Mary Lee Hess and Ray Urban, so we're keeping our fingers crossed that ML gets well soon so we can start planning our next adventure.  Alas, I had no one to drink "Jim Bim" with this time.

On awakening yesterday morning (Monday) we were pulling into the fabulously wealthy Monte Carlo which you could detect the money by the yachts in the harbor. 

After a quick breakfast, we were off in a beautiful Mercedes limo to the Nice airport, about half an hour away, and boarded our long (9 hour) flight to JFK.   Did manage to get in a couple great movies (The Rum Diary, J. Edgar, and the fourteenth thousand viewing of Napoleon Dynamite - all highly recommended).  

Getting into the US at JFK proved an incredible hassle as many international flights seemed to arrive at the same time.  First we spent about 45 minutes in a 10 x 16 tunnel with hundreds of other people at a complete stop because of human traffic bottlenecking.  Another 15 minutes or so and people would've started passing out from claustrophobia, heat, or both - including me.  It took a full 90 minutes to get to where we had to recheck our luggage for the domestic flight to Columbus, only to find that this group of a billion people were being served by one scanner.   Got to laud that thinking of the TSA.

Finally on board about 7:30 p.m. and, as we were taxiing out to the runway, went right past the space shuttle slated for New York.  It sat astride the 747 which ferried it from Florida to New York and was preparing for its dismount this week (and that damn thing should be in Dayton at the Air Force museum!).  It was a beautiful sight, indeed.

Picked up by Pa Pa promptly at 9:30 and unpacked by 11 p.m.  With Italy et al being 6 hours ahead of us and me getting two weeks to warm to that schedule, was little surprise when, at 2:00 a.m EST I woke up like an alarm had gone off.   Fought my way back to sleep and finally decided to get out of bed at 4:30 a.m. this morning.  Cheryl thinks I'm crazy (is she right?) and she's still upstairs dozing as we approach 7:00 a.m.

So, in summary, here are my thoughts about the trip:

1.  Rome - fabulous, but don't have to go there again.  Would like to see other sites in Italy, though.

2.  Seabourn Cruise Line - an A+ experience overall, with C- for tour associations

3.  Transatlantic flights - aaaarrrrrgggghhhhh

4.  Home - priceless

Love you all, and thanks for following!  Until our next adventure.   JD and Cheryl

Cooling Off in Colliouere

We arrived overnight in Port Vendres, yet another beautiful seaside town in France, just inside the border with Spain.   The weather turned decidedly worse today (Saturday) . . . cloudy and cold after yesterday’s warmth and sunshine.  We understand that is to be expected this early in the tourist season here in the Mediterranean.  And, our attitude toward the tours we’ve taken has also grown a bit cooler, with today’s results topping the bill!

Mind you that we’ve heard 100 times this week from other travelers that the tours – which we booked online in advance – were either misrepresented, too expensive, or at the very least should never be booked online – only once on board.  I don’t think we agreed with that until today.   This tour was billed as “The French Expressionists of Colliouere” and was intended to showcase the works of artists like Matisse who painted in this nearby (yes, another beautiful) seaside town.

There were a couple problems evident from the beginning of the tour when we disembarked in Colliouere.  First, one of the thirty or forty persons on the tour was the physician from South Carolina who I mentioned in an earlier posting.  A wonderful gentleman, he’s post-stroke from 3 years ago, but our “guide” paid no more attention to this than if he’d been a Martian.  

After walking to the seashore in a cold, brisk wind, she promptly led the group up a pretty steep hill.   Graciously, he went along, step by slow step, with the aid of Cheryl holding on to his arm.  Of course he protested needing her help, but she insisted that you can't take the nurse out of the nurse.  After about a 20 minute climb to the top of this hill (during which we saw little more than a steep street with some colorful houses, he finally arrived at the top and then the guide starting leading the group down the other side of the hill – no rest for the wicked!

He managed, again with Cheryl’s help, to make it to the bottom where our guide dismissed the group for a couple hours of “free time”. . . wait a minute, aren’t we here to see French impressionists work?  “Oh”, she replied, and added “the museum here features only local artists.  The tour was designed to show you where Matisse and others painted.”   BFD.

And, the purported local art show she saw in the newspaper wasn’t there either!  Instead, we saw a rummage sale with blaring Spanish music, and a host of local shops with their doors open.   So, we parked our friend at a café and walked around for the rest of the time there.  An ice cream for Cheryl soothed at least her savage nerves.

I can say that there are many great things about the Seabourn cruise line .  . the staff is exceptionally friendly, helpful, and well trained to take care of any possible need often before we even realize we need it.  The ship itself is beautiful and the cabins are large and accommodating.   The food gets an A grade.   The tours would’ve been a B- before today, but the grade of F for today brings down that average.

You can tell from these postings that I like to write, and I look forward to telling the Seabourn folks who work in association with local tour sponsors that they need to pick up their game on this end of the vacation business.

Apparently the weather will keep us here overnight instead of a last stop on some islands for the day on the way to final destination Monte Carlo where we disembark on Monday morning.   Not sure if we’re going to get any walkaround time there or not, but I’ll see if I can spot the Prince if we do!

She Led With Her Chin

We sailed all night and landed in Menorca this morning, the second largest of the four Balearic islands, and the eastern most point of Spain.  The largest is nearby Majorca, and this one – Menorca – is only 30 miles x 12 miles, and very flat.  It is the second deepest natural harbor in the world next to .  . . you guessed it, Pearl Harbor.  Its original settlers were 3,000 BC, and it has seen many regimes come and go including the Romans, the British, and the Spaniards most recently.

Our tour guide today was a Brit, originally from London, who came here as a temporary tour guide 29 years ago and she’s still here.  As she explained it, “I went home for Christmas and it was raining and dreary.  Here I can do nothing more than sit and look at the beautiful ocean in beautiful weather year round.”  And, as well it should always be on Friday, it was sunny and about 75 degrees - just beautiful, indeed.

We headed west from our harbor port of Mahon toward Fornells, a seaside town of villas with most of the population there during their season – May through October.  Water sports are, of course, the main attraction although there was a lovely church (Saint Marti) with the main focus the sailors who would go to mass there before setting out for their catch.

After Fornells, we traveled to the highest point on the island, Monte Toro.   Here we were told a beautiful story about 14^th. century monks living at the foot of the mountain.  One night they spied a light on top of the mountain, so hiked up to see what it was.  It was coming from a cave at the top and a bull helped break through the wall where they found a statue of the Virgin Mary.   They brought it back down the mountain, but the next day when they awoke it was, alas, gone!  

And, guess where it was?  Back to the top of the mountain it had gone, so they decided it meant they were to build a church there, and they did in the 14^th. century.  The cave where the statue was found is visible but blocked by an iron gate.   The imagery at the altar features Mary, Jesus, and, of course, the bull who helped the monks uncover the statue lying at the feet of Mary.

 The focal point of Monte Toro is, of course, the large statue of Jesus with his arms outspread much like the one (smaller of course) that overlooks Rio de Janeiro.  It, too, is beautiful and, again, inspires one to think about things far beyond our small life here on earth. 

Back on the bus after enjoying our view and an absolutely delicious coffee at their small restaurant.  We were dropped off in Mahon in the middle of their – guess what – shopping district.  Cheryl managed to zero in on the “I-just-have-to-have-a pair-of those-oh-so-cute-shoes”.   And me, fool for her pretty face that I am, said “great idea!”

Tonight we’re having dinner with the couple I think we like the best of all we’ve met on this trip.   They’re a couple of 70-year old Aussies named Ted and Jan Teasdale, and their charm never ends.   We had lunch with them when we got back to the ship and Ted was telling me that he’d met an interesting American woman this morning who felt compelled to talk politics.  He described it as “she led with her chin so I smacked her” in his thick Aussie accent.  

What he meant was that she got off on a political rant, informing him that all other countries, including specifically Australia, were secondary to the U.S. (or something of that nature).    Didn’t get the full story but found his metaphor charming as if Paul Hogan himself had said it to me.

Tomorrow (Saturday) we’re in Port-Vendres, France, but if Ted gets rowdy at dinner tonight I’ll be sure to bring you the full blow by blow soon!

If It's Thursday, Must be Barcelona!

A small and large public market bookended Thursday, our second day in Barcelona.   We began by visiting the smaller of the two, the one where locals go to buy from a mere 100 shops (as described by the guide, almost apologetically!). The Mercat de Santa Caterina was built atop the ruins of an ancient monastery.   Never have I seen such fresh fish, the most beautiful of vegetables, and the prettiest meat – they all abounded here and people were snapping them up!

From the market, we walked down a number of very narrow streets, many of which would have a variety of shops opening into the narrow passageways.  We saw the ancient walls separating the city into its components, with the lower part of the wall built by Romans early A.D., and the upper added a few centuries later by the Gothic movement. The earliest settlement of Barcelona was by the Romans 100 BC.

One of the narrow streets led us through a small door into a courtyard and exposed a 15^th. century “palace” that a wealthy family would have lived in., fronted by a small courtyard where the horses would enter.  Cheryl remarked that it reminded her of a Romeo and Juliet type place, and I could almost hear the horse hooves clapping on the stones.

The Santa Maria de la Mer church from the 14^th. century was next on the tour, and was built for and attended by the sailors who brought in the harvest of the sea.  As with other buildings in the area, gargoyles were readily visible near the top of the walls, and served the purpose of allowing water to drain from the roof through their mouths onto the streets.  Inside, the altar featured Mary and baby Jesus standing in front of a ship, again honoring and protecting the men of the sea.  That would’ve been a tough task in the 14^th. century!

From here we went to THE actual palace where the Queen greeted Christopher Columbus upon his return from “The New World”.   Nothing opulent, mind you, but certainly mind boggling to think about him striding up the steps to get his due from the Queen who had financed his very risky venture, as we all learned in our early school years.

On to another church, this one being the Cathedral of Barcelona, built in the 14^th. century.  I remarked to Cheryl how amazing it was to build a structure this large and beautiful back in those times, without the benefit of modern construction techniques and tools.  It had an area at its entrance where 13 geese are kept as they have some religious connotation but also function as the “guards” for the Cathedral and its many occupants in crypts.  If one of the guardian geese dies, the keepers wait until two are gone before replacing them, always as a pair.   The crypts tombs were covered with gilded gold – magnificent!

We emerged from the series of passageways and dark alleys onto a brightly lit and wide avenue – Las Ramblas.  And, quickly we were at the second market – Mercat St. Josep – with its 300 shops. This one apparently is frequented by both locals and tourists and it was jam packed.   We marched through from one side to the other and were treated with a small tapas of crab fried in batter and a local wine (mostly like champagne).   That was the end of the tour, so Cheryl and I chose not to take the bus back to the ship but to continue walking around a bit more.

We ambled down Las Ramblas (or was that rambled?) taking in the many sites on this tree-lined walkway in the middle of the avenue.  And, at its end was the monstrous statue of our pal, Chris Columbus.  Not ancient but put up in the late 1800’s, it was still very impressive.  The guide had earlier asked us where he was pointing and many on the tour shouted out “The New World”.  My guess was (for fun of course) "Columbus, Ohio".  He responded that BOTH were wrong, and that the "New World" was the number 1 wrong answer and, in fact, it is Genoa or India or somewhere else.   I still think he's showing the way to Cowtown, USA.  Nonetheless impressive.

Tonight we’ve arranged to dine with a long-retired oncologist from Charleston, SC and talk politics.  Unbelievably, he’s bent left like us – imagine that from a doctor? – so we’re looking forward to that.  As it turned out, we barely talked politics and more about he and his wife's adventures living on all 7 continents and in unimagineable places.   That's been one of the best parts of the whole trip, in fact, just getting to meet others who are different and have other experiences in life.

Tomorrow is Mahon, Menorca, Spain where we’ll drive to the fishing village of Fornells and on to the Toro Monastery, the highest point at Monte Toro from which I can shout "Tora, Tora, Tora" . . .oh wait, that's a different movie.

Gaudi not Gaudy

Today is Cheryl’s birthday!   As she wouldn’t let me buy her something extravagant earlier in our trip, she had to settle for two birthday cards I drug from home.   I thought they’d do something special for her tonight at dinner as I think I let them know when I registered us that it was a special day for her today.  

Alas, we finished dinner – a barbeque on deck . .  .in the rain – and nothing special other than the strange man greeting us in our room upon our return!

Our day began with docking in Barcelona around 9:30 a.m., and we spent our morning doing a whole lot of nothing before we headed off for our tour “World of Gaudi” about 1:15 p.m..   Suffice it to say that I hadn’t heard of Gaudi before today (can you say “Ugly American”?) but I should’ve.   This master architect from Spain worked around the turn of the century (he died in 1926) and produced many sites on the UN World Heritage list of sites that are, indeed, world treasurers.  Eight of his works are in Barcelona.

Our tour today took us to two of them, and on the way there we were clued into Barcelona being an architectural dream in many dimensions.  The streets are very wide, tree-lined, and everywhere you look there’s something to see, including a monstrous statue of Christopher Columbus as well as a Roy Lichtenstein sculpt which Cheryl recognized immediately as a quasi-Brushstrokes-in-Flight-Part-2.   Made me wonder if it was Barcelona was the city that Buck Rinehart was trying to bestow the Brushstrokes now found in the Columbus Airport (and priceless it is!).

The first Gaudi site we were taken to was the Basilica De La Sagrada Familia – the Basilica of the Holy Family.  Pretty tough to compare churches with each other, but if this one isn’t the most spectacular, awe inspiring one on the planet, I’m not sure what is.  It has been being built for the past 130 years, and is in the final push to have it ready for the centennial of Gaudi’s passing in 2026.

Four massive towers are in place today, and will eventually number 18 – 12 for the apostles, 4 for the evangelists (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John), and 2 for Mary and Jesus.   The tallest today is about 107 meters, and the one to be built to honor Jesus will be 173 meters! 

The building is funded primarily from tourist admissions fees as well as donations – no government money is involved.   The last phase of the building involves tearing down a block of apartments across the street from what will be the main entrance, a plan agreed to from the very beginning of the project.

Many of the interior windows are simple glass at this point, and will eventually become stained glass which is installed in some of the windows.  The exterior façade is comprised of many, beautiful statues including as shown the wise men adoring the Baby Jesus.   This side was the beginning and the other was the end, including the Judas kiss and crucifixion.   Magnificent, spectacular, awe inspiring – if you couldn’t feel the presence of God after seeing this, there’s no hope for you.

We hated to leave the presence of such magnificence and, frankly, I would’ve been fine with the tour ending right there.   But it was not to be as we went a few blocks away and visited a Gaudi-designed apartment building known as “La Pedrera”.  It was extremely unique and illustrated Gaudi’s love of curved surfaces, beginning with the rooftop design where the tour started.  It is said to have served as inspiration for George Lucas’ design of the storm trooper uniforms and Darth Vader’s helmet in “Star Wars” and you can certainly detect those types of lines. (Hope that’s the right terminology as I’m a radiographer, not an architect!)

Today the building is owned by a bank but still includes apartments in it where people live.  The inside was beautifully done with delicately curved moldings, beautiful parquet floors, and the like.  One very interesting feature was the upper level which featured very thin arches in all the corridors which were originally the servant’s quarters and chambers.

Tomorrow we go to the Old Market in Barcelona.  For me, this is the most beautiful city I’ve ever been in, right up there with Paris.   I’ll be back to you later with more from the birthplace of the art noveau movement – Barcelona, Spain!

Surf's Up!

Once again the “unusual weather” forced a change of plans and our normal docking in Sanary sur-mer was diverted to Toulon, France. Toulon is the site of the largest French naval base, and where the French fleet was scuttled intentionally in 1942 rather than fall into German hands. Between the bombardment of the city by, first, the Germans and, later, the Americans, not much of the old city remains. The result is a hodge podge of architectural styles and a lot of quasi-East German-looking buildings thrown up post-war and in the 60’s. In other words, Toulon isn’t much to look at . . . . . I’m sure the people are lovely.

We boarded another bus that took us to nearby Cassis, France, and it is a lovely little town on the Mediterranean. On the way there, we stopped at the tallest maritime peak (i.e., overlooking the sea) in all of Europe – about 1,300 feet or so – and nicknamed “Mountain of the Bad Men” because of rumored Mafia dealings held there.

The views were stunningly spectacular, but I rediscovered my hesitancy with tremendous heights and could only get within about 10 feet of the edge. Cheryl was quick, of course, to take advantage of me and kept purposely edging closer to the sheer cliff walls, and making lunging movements which scared the bejeesus out of me. I told her I could see the headline in the Columbus Dispatch . . . . “Pickerington Woman Dies in Cliff Fall in France”!

The topography in the area was really stunning, and there were tons of vineyards, often on terraced fields to maximize the space for hillside growing.

We eventually made our way into Cassis where we wandered around for about 90 minutes and perused the local shops and had our obligatory cup of cappuccino for the day. We saw lots of rich folks with dogs who spoke French (or at least we imagined they did), including a snappy little French bulldog named Pedro who reminded us greatly of our late and much loved Boston terriers, Maugwai and Paco T. Taco.

Back on the bus toward Toulon, we took a detour through Sanary sur-mer where we supposed to dock, and could clearly see the reason we didn’t. People wearing wet suits were surfing LARGE waves into the very upscale beach area (not too unlike Cannes). I can see why the cruise ship wanted to dock there as it was significantly more beautiful than Toulon, but certainly would’ve been a lot more dangerous from the nautical perspective.

Tomorrow is our first day in Barcelona, Spain, and I heard it is going to be significantly warmer than it has been these last few days (which have been in the 50’s and 60’s). We’re keeping our fingers crossed!

Cannes, France and the Golden Corniche

I mentioned in yesterday’s blog that we were indulging in a massage in the afternoon, and for the immediacy of it, I couldn’t have felt better. Back to the cabin to shower before dinner, and things went downhill. Apparently the massage triggers all sorts of internal heating, and the hot shower, and warm room to follow made me absolutely wooky! That’s a combination of dizzy and nauseated which, the latter, was compounded by the ship tossing and turning in very rough waters.

Cheryl called the nurse who thought I should see the doctor, and he promptly arrived at the room – no telling how much THAT will cost! At least 6’6” and a Spanish-looking version of James Arness (Matt Dillon), he did a thorough physical after taking my history, and ordered some sort of intramuscular injection to calm my upset nature. Somewhere in the middle of that process I convinced him that I really didn’t feel great with a loud and vigorous vomiting.

So, we didn’t make it to dinner. Instead, we called it an early evening with some minor room service and waited for a new day.

That day arrived this morning with our docking in Cannes, France, and a bouncy tender (a small power boat) ride from ship to shore. Visible in the distance were the snow-covered Alps which we don’t see anything like in Columbus, Ohio.

Cannes is a busy tourist city in the French Riviera (Cote d’Azur – Coast of Blue) and famous for its film festival which is coming soon in mid-May. The “Man in the Iron Mask” was imprisoned in nearby Ile de Sainte-Marguerite, and the subject of countless films.

We boarded a bus and headed away from Cannes toward St. Raphael, a small seaside town about an hour away. After walking around there for an hour, and having a delicious cappuccino at a seaside café, it was back on the bus for a trip on the Golden Corniche.

A seaside road built by Napoleon near an ancient Roman road, it was windy with tons of switchbacks that promptly made Cheryl queasy. Mostly it looked over the Mediterranean down sheer cliffs. The scenery was spectacular, though, along with a “Scenic Overlook” (as they call them in the U.S.) for pictures, and also passing by a villa overlooking the Mediterranean once owned by Laurel and Hardy. And, indeed, the Mediterranean is a beautiful color of blue!

One very touching moment was our stop at the beachhead where, on August 15, 1944, the Allied Forces led by the Texas Division of the US Army landed in Southern France, aided by the French forces. 100,000 men landed over two days, with 1,000 killed – small numbers compared to Normandy, but still made me think of those same “swashbuckling Americans” who came to save Europe. There was a beautiful monument to them there, but alas no American flag and even a campground – sacrilege – next door!

Eventually the Golden Corniche led us back to Cannes, and Cheryl and I got off the bus midtown to look around. They’re about three weeks away from the big shindig – the Cannes Film Festival – and we saw the large auditorium where all the screenings are held. And, the availability of spectacular hotels and villas is obvious, as is the amount of money wrapped up in this resort town.

Cheryl’s birthday is in two days, and I finally divulged that it was my plan to buy her a Rolex watch, and I wasn’t too discouraged after seeing their price tags (which, gulp, ranged up to as much as $20,000)! Wonderful person she is, though, she told me that she really didn’t want a Rolex and, instead, the black pearl earrings on board the ship were much more desirable. We’ll see.

As we arrived back on board the ship about 3:00 p.m., the captain was making an announcement. He said that our stop tomorrow, scheduled to be Sanary sur-mer, France, is now off limits because of the windy weather and an alternate site is being scheduled. Just hoping we don’t get too much of that up and down motion when we raise anchor tonight at 10:30 p.m. See you tomorrow!

She Loves You, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!

Cheryl and I had dinner last evening (Saturday) at “the Captain’s Table”, not the Captain, of course, although he did stop by, but rather one of his underlings. He was a young, South African man serving as an officer on the Seabourn Legend, and clearly on his way up the chain of command although he looked like he was about 16 years old.

They did one of those boy-girl-boy-girl seating arrangements for our table of about 10, and I was seated between two very interesting women. On my right was Roberta Rosenberg, an elderly (early 90’s?) woman from Philadelphia, traveling alone, with whom we’d struck up a hallway conversation the day prior.

Her husband of 65 years had died two years ago, and she wore his ring around her neck as my own mother did for many years. Without a lot of detail, and I didn’t press, she revealed her background on radio, TV, and stage in Boston and Philadelphia, and told us about meeting her future husband as a dashing B-24 bombardier at the end of World War II. She was very enjoyable to chat with, but quite a contrast to the lady on my left.

Her name was Susan, and her retired husband (David) sat next to Cheryl, across the table from me. He had owned some sort of pharmaceutical business and retired a couple years ago at age 47. While he was a Welshman (like Tom Jones she pointed out), she was English from Liverpool. Her father had known the Beatles there in their early days, while her mother was screaming for them from the front row at the Cavern Club. Her absolute favorite was Elvis, and she was very beautiful and charming. Needless to say, I found myself more drawn to conversation with her, but I did my best to balance it out. A few winks toward Cheryl throughout the evening were made just to let her know she is the proverbial number one with a bullet for me!

After dinner, we accompanied Roberta to her cabin, and saw a British singer/comedian named Nicky Martin perform. He closed his show with a tribute to George Formby playing a banjo/ukele that he’d bought from the Formby family on his death. As he was leaving, I asked him if it really did belong to George Formby, and he was surprised I knew who he was. I explained that I knew of him through George Harrison who cited him as a major influence (He was impressed with the Yank!) He told me of the many nights he’d spent in a local pub with George’s father and how he looked exactly like George. While John was always my favorite (and Cheryl’s too), we both really loved George and was sad when he died, but the discussion put a very nice nightcap on a wonderful day, dinner, and our love for the Beatles (greatest rock band of all time, tied, of course, with the Rolling Stones and The Who).

Now it is morning on Sunday, and we just pulled into port. Outside it is raining and we have no excursions planned. We are indulging ourselves with a massage this afternoon, so looking forward to that. Tomorrow we are in Cannes, France, and our overall cruise map is shown at the left.

Hope your Sunday is as relaxing as ours will be.

Napoleon Slept (and Partied) Here!

Last night was our first dinner on the Seabourn Legend and it was pretty great. We sat with two older British couples who were completely taken with Cheryl. The food was superb and after my afternoon of champagne, a couple Jim Beam’s before dinner, wine with dinner, and finishing off with a Remy Martin cognac, I was only too happy to call it a night.

We were underway just before dinner. Through dinner, we were not on relatively placid Buckeye Lake by any stretch. One of the British gentlemen we had dinner with was green, but gradually came back to some color of normalcy before dinner was over. In the morning, when we awakened and began pulling in toward our first port, the rolling of the ship was even worse! I know I felt like crap and Cheryl, who hadn’t had a sip of anything other than water, felt worse.

Still, I managed to drag her out of bed and to breakfast at 7:30, all the while having a hard time walking on the decks which were moving hither and yon. I’m sure the staff thought it was “no problem”, but trust me it was really an issue.

We disembarked about 9:00 and got on a bus headed toward our first destination – Napoleon’s “summer house” where he was exiled while on Elba. Of course he had 8 houses on the island, but the main one is under renovation so it was house #2 we got to see.

After his first major defeat, he was given a choice of three islands to be exiled to, one of which was Corsica where he was from, but instead he chose Elba (allegedly because it was the easiest from which to escape!). He spent 10 months here before slipping away, back to the mainland where he claimed back his emperorship of France and went on to the major defeat at Waterloo and final exile until his death.

The house was relatively modest which, perhaps it could afford to be as one of eight on the Island, one in each of the towns.

It certainly had a wonderful view of the harbor of Elba, and he had clear vision to the comings and goings from the island as this was the only source of information on what was happening in Europe and elsewhere. Apparently Napoleon was much loved by the local populace - kind of like having a rock star living amonst you. A crowd got wind of him leaving when he did and met him at the harbor with tears and fond farewells as he had done much for the citizenry . . . building schools, teaching Greek mythology, and throwing lavish parties.

One charming aspect of his life there was that his sister, Paulina, was the only one of his eight siblings to stand by him. She was wealthy and sold many of her own jewels to pay for his lifestyle on Elba, all while enjoying herself immensely, and was widely known as the most beautiful woman in all of Europe. She also had another nickname in French society where she was known as “The Great Horizontal”. Quite simply, she liked men and, unfortunately, ended up dying of venereal disease in Florence at age 45. On her last night of life, her husband held a party in the courtyard of her home in Florence, under the moonlight with an orchestera playing while guests greeted her with kisses in her bed placed under the stars. Love conquers all.

After the visit there, we got back on the bus and went from one side of the island to the other. Cheryl was pretty much green on the hilly, windy roads. I thought maybe we’d have to stop and let her get rid of that breakfast, but she toughed it out. We got off the bus on the other side of Elba in the small town of Port Azzure, and her insides gradually calmed down. Perhaps it was the Italian chocolate ice cream that played a role. I had a lovely cappucino which had a special "message" in it - see below with the PS.

Back on the bus after about an hour to our docking in Portoferraio, the largest city on the island. We walked around for a bit and had lunch at a lovely seaside restaurant – Cheryl had spaghetti and I had a pizza. Both were, of course, delicious. Back to the ship, a short half hour laying in the sun, and a wonderful nap were to follow.

Tonight is the captain’s dinner, so count on a lot less alcohol – probably none – since I had more in one night last night than I’ve had in the past year at home! I’ll fill you in on the goings on when I post again tomorrow after our anchoring in Protovenere, a substitute stop for the normal port of call at Portofino. Apparently, the Italian government has instituted a restriction on anchoring in Portofino as a result of the Costa Concordia, so better safe than sorry.

More tomorrow. See you then.

PS – Happy 60th. anniversary to my wonderful in-laws, Ray and Joan Creamer, known within the family as Mum Mum and Pa Pa. They've set a great example for their five children, the most wonderful of which I'm married to . . . I can only hope we reach that number in years to come.

Shoving Off But Remembering Great Ones

Cheryl and I left our hotel in Rome about 10:45 a.m. today, and hopped aboard a shuttle bus for what was promised as a short ride of an hour. Unfortunately, there was a transit strike in Rome today, so make that 1 hour getting out of Rome, and it eventually was three before we made it to the port city of Civitavecchia to get on our ship, the Seabourn Legend.

The signs of excellence were everywhere from the moment we arrived . . . . the friendliness of the staff, the white glove service on check-in, and the stocking of my favorite alcoholic beverage ("Jim Bim" as they call it in Egypt) in our room, and a bottle of champagne, too!

If only my "Jim Bim" drinking partner, ML, were here to drink it with me. I did my best without her, though, and I was feeling no pain by the time we went a couple hours later to practice our emergency drill.

Suffice it to say that the passengers were paying rapt attention with the recency (and proximity) of the Costa Concordia disaster. We put out to sea about 5:30 p.m. and are headed for our first stop tomorrow at 8 a.m. in Portoferraio, Italy. Our excursion for tomorrow is Napoleon's summer residence and the village of Porto Azzuro. Should be wonderful, but dinner at 7:30 tonight stands between us and a visit to our favorite French emperor's digs.

Today is, however, a bit melancholy for a couple reasons. First, I am reminded of my dear friend, Marsha Tootle, who unfailingly let me know how much she enjoyed reading the blogs I write on our various excursions. And, with no comments back to our posts so far, I don't know if anyone IS reading them. We lost Marsha to a long battle with ovarian cancer last fall, and I know I would've heard from her at least a couple times by now. So, if you are reading - enjoying isn't a requirement - let us know. We miss everyone back home already.

Second, Levon Helm, 71, leader of the group The Band, died yesterday. And you ask, how is that related? The Band wrote and Levon sang one of my top five favorite songs of all time, "When I Paint My Masterpiece" from their 1971 LP titled "Cahoots".

It is a lovely song, full of optimism and hope, based on his experience many years ago in Rome. It has been sung by anyone who is anyone (at least in my book, e.g., Bob Dylan, the Grateful Dead, etc.).

So, caps off for lovely Marsha and wonderful Levon, and here's what he had to say . . . . .

Oh, the streets of Rome are filled with rubble
Ancient footprints are everywhere
You can almost think that you're seeing double
On the cold, dark night on the Spanish Stairs

Gotta hurry on back to my hotel room
Where I got me a date with a pretty little girl from Greece
She promised, she'd be there with me
When I paint my masterpiece

Oh, the hours we spent inside the Coliseum
Dodging lions, and a-wasting time
Oh, those mighty kings of the jungle, I could hardly stand to see 'em
Yes, it sure has been a long, hard drive

Train wheels are running through the back of my memory
When I ran on a hilltop following a pack of wild geese
Someday everything is gonna sound like a rhapsody
When I paint my masterpiece

Sailing round the world in a dirty gondola
Oh, to be back in the land of Coca-Cola

Well, I left Rome, and landed in Brussels
On a plane ride so bumpy that I almost cried
Clergy men in uniform and young girls pulling mussels
Everyone was there to greet me when I stepped inside

Newspaper man eating candy
Had to be held down by big police

But someday every thing's gonna be different
When I paint my masterpiece

Vatican City - A Whole 'Nother World

Day 3 in Rome centered on our visit to Vatican City. We had an early start with the tour beginning at 8:30 a.m., at least for those of us who bothered showing up on time (which was most of a large tour bus full of English speaking persons). Not that it mattered since we had all day, but the looks on those who were 15 or 20 minutes late and delaying the rest of us was irritating. But not half as irritating – no, not even a third – as getting stepped on and trampled for parts of the upcoming tour.

It began in the entrance area to the Vatican which was about half the size it should’ve been for the billion people meeting there. Our guide told us that until about 10 years ago it was also the exit point. A person on the tour later confirmed that she was there 43 years ago and it was “nothing” like it is now. Not only, but particularly Asian people, seemed particularly rude. As they shoved past us with knees and elbows flying, I took to calling out as loudly as the surroundings permitted “Excuse me!” and got a few blank stares back in return. Oh well, it was fun.

The Vatican is, as you probably know, a separate country from Italy, and home of the Papacy. Not sure how many acres it covers, but it is a BUNCH just on the west side of the Tiber River. We passed through the old (Aurelian) walls of Rome built early AD to keep out the barbarians. I imagined the hordes on horses, camels, or however those barbarians “barbarized” sitting on the outside wondering how the hell to get in! Anyway, back to the Vatican and dealing with the modern barbarians.

The treasures and art were simply glorious and everywhere. A friend had remarked how the Church had certainly been the “beneficiary” of a lot of Roman conquest (I think the word he used, though, was “plundered loot”), and it was clearly evident. An example was a fertility goddess from the Middle East who was well endowed with, not breasts, but bull testicles!

Through the sculpt gallery into the tapestry gallery into the map gallery on our way toward the Sistine Chapel. The stampede was alternately frightening along with the surreal of the glorious art. I heard more than one person exclaim that if it wasn't for what we were seeing they never would do it again!

One of the most beautiful pieces was Michelangelo's "Pieta" which was protected behind a glass wall. Some crazy Italian had a few years ago gotten up close and whacked off the nose (like that other crazy Italian who dumped red paint into Trevi fountain about that time!). It was simply glorious although Cheryl said the reproduction at Christ the King where she attended school early was almost as nice. I recall our guide from yesterday saying that "Michelangelo was really a carving man" (meaning he enjoyed sculpting more than anything), and this is certainly magnificent

Finally we made it into the Sistine Chapel famous, of course, for ceiling frescoes (painting on wet plaster) by Michelangelo and a host of other Baroque artists and their teams. Vatican guards were quietly yelling “Silence” and “No Pictures”, but I couldn’t help sneaking in one of the very impressive “Last Judgment” (Brief side story – doing this in China at the Tomb of the Terra Cotta warriors almost got me arrested, so only ONE photo was snuck in here!). The Chapel is where a new pope is elected from a conclave of Cardinals, so it was a very impressive and beautiful space.

From there, outside to the attached St. Peter’s Basilica built on the spot of the crucifixion of St. Peter (whose tomb is below, but of course that’s an extra ticket for a big dollar fee!). Our guide billed it as the world’s largest church and indeed it was HUGE. This is where the Pope says Mass, and the altar was beyond description in both size and beauty. Pope John Paul (now beatified), a veritable rock star of the Papacy, had his own chapel within St. Peter’s, while most had elegant statues of themselves. Some former popes were mummified and their remains were on display – strange but true.

The tour ended outside the Basilica which opens onto St. Peter’s Square. You see it on television and hear how it holds a million-plus people, and you can see how that is so. The place where the black/white smoke announces the voting on a new Pope was shown to us, as well as the balcony from St. Peter’s where the new Pope gives his initial blessing. We even saw where he lives with his bedroom and study windows identified. And, of course, no tour is complete without ending up in the gift shop as ours did. Again, a striking contrast was seen between the beauty (and expense) of the items offered inside while outside beggars – poor and dirty – held cups begging for coins. My lovely wife, Cheryl, couldn’t resist them any more than she can the poor fellows holding “Food for Work” signs on the freeway entrance and exit ramps in Columbus. I love her for that.

So at 1 p.m. we’re dropped off the bus with a long walk up a big hill and we’re wiped out already. Time to stop for lunch which we did at a lovely restaurant. The two ladies sitting next to us were speaking English and at the end of lunch struck up a conversation with us. Both were French, and one was obviously filthy rich and kept talking to her purse from which, eventually, emerged the head of a 2-pound Maltese named Mercedes. The second woman, her sister, was also her assistant and told us that her sister Muriel – the rich one - was renting a ”little place” just up the street for 3 months and entertaining friends from the US and France. We enjoyed our 10 minute conversation with them and she even remarked in impeccable English that “You are very handsome!” so I enjoyed that immensely.

Life is great, huh?