Outlet shopping with a detour...

Outlet Shopping with a detour... This morning, I rose as I always do, around 5:30, took my vitamins, leisurely embracing the day. I went out for a longer than usual walk, because my knee was feeling better, the day was gorgeous and I was enjoying every second of being outside in the not quite yet hot summer sun. When I got home, I pondered how I could make this day even better. Why, a trip to Pucci would make for a perfect afternoon. I ate my breakfast, got dressed, and headed to Leccio, where the most marvelous outlets live: Burberry, Pucci, Tods, Gucci, Loro Piana. And that isn't even half of what all is there. But, I was on a mission: Pucci. I made it there in exactly one hour. Good time for the lunch hour. I pulled in to the parking lot and found a great spot at the very end of the line and started... Crash! I must have misjudged how much room I had because the next thing I knew, I was backing down from having mounted the curb. Well, no matter. These things happen all the time. I parked and got out, walking around just to look... I was certain I'd find nothing. Boy, was I wrong! The front right tire was completely flat. You could hear and audible shhhhhhh as the last whisp of air escaped the michelin rubber.  Great. Now what? I debated. Do I shop first then deal with this? Maybe I just change the tire to the spare myself and then deal with it later. Perhaps there is a nice man who will help me... Let me just interject here: chivalry is dead, at least at the Mall in Leccio. I asked a passer by and he ignored me. I walked up to customer service and asked a security guard... His excuse was his bad back. Right... So, my next series of thoughts was that I just needed to call the rental agency and let them handled it. So, I did. After two aborted calls which ended up as disconnects, I finally got through to a nice woman who said a tow truck would be there in 40 minutes. I could either get a new car or go with the tow while they fix the tire. At first, I got a little excited at the prospect of ditching what has got to be the unluckiest rental of all time! Then she clucked her tongue in the way only an Italian woman about to deliver bad news can: "Madame, you require an automatic? I'm sorry, but there is no automatic with which to substitute. You will have to wait with the car in Firenze." At least I had 40 minutes before the tow truck would be there. That gave me PLENTY of time to hit Pucci. I found a great top, two belts and the dress of my dreams ! I pulled out my Merrill Lynch to pay and the card was rejected. "you have got to be kidding me..." On top of everything else, I had to call Merrill in New Jersey, which, by the way, is totally frustrating because amongst all the menus there is not one which gives you the option to talk to someone!  After a 20 minute call during which it was discovered that no one alerted the account of my travel (although everyone knows I do this every year...) all was resolved. Now, all I had to do was wait for the tow. And on cue, precisely 40 minutes from the end of my call to Europcar, the tow truck arrived. A very quite man called Francesco got the car on the back of the flat bed and off we went to Florence to get a new tire. He spoke not a single word the whole way. I tried to make small talk, as I'm wont to do... He didn't bite. So, it was a very, very quiet drive to a section of Firenze Sud I had never ever seen before. Apparently, neither had the tow truck driver since he had no idea where he was going. We eventually found the tire place and after a series of calls, it was decided that the only thing to do was to trundle me off into a cab to the airport to deal with Europcar face to face. So, I collected my gear from the car and waited for my cab.   The next thing I knew, I was on my way. At the airport, I was assigned ANOTHER Mercedes A Class, but in true Italian fashion, it was not ready. They were cleaning it up. Where? I was unsure. Who? That, too, was a mystery. All I did know was that 5 guys were standing around, smoking cigarettes and talking on cell phones while one guy was rubbing down the same car for about 25 minutes. Now, I'm no professional, but Catherine and I can wash the Porsche inside and out in about 15 minutes. The A Class isn't that much bigger. So, I'm not sure what the hold up was. But, one full hour later, the same exact car as I had just left at the tire repair shop came lurching around the corner. The license plate number is even almost identical... I hopped in and raced, and I mean raced home. I think, tomorrow, I will just go to the pool, where I can do the least amount of damage. Oh: the other thing... sitting in the hot sun for an hour gave me a chance to scrutinize my car rental contract. It seems that I am prohibited from taking the car to Eastern Europe, so Croatia is out. I will spend the next 2 hours cancelling everything I booked yesterday. When it rains, it pours!

In Search of Pinnochio

In Search of Pinocchio... Anyone who has been in my house knows I have a quirky design flair. Either you like the monkeys on the chandelier or you don't. Either you love the Pinocchio paintings or you hate them. I happen to love both with all my heart. Many years ago, I happened upon the work of Eugenio Taccini, an artist working in Montelupo Fiorentino. He had a shop brimming with a variety of ceramic wares, from traditional pharmacy jars to ultra modern representations of Tuscan landscapes painted on tiles. I acquired a jar and a plate for my mom, a mirror as a wedding gift for my brother and sister-in-law, and two Pinocchio paintings done on tiles and mounted on rough wood. Whenever anyone came to visit me in Castel del Bosco, I always put Taccini's workshop on the regular tour route. His work is so exceptional and he is so open as an artist. When I took the Shaw-Bowdring family to visit Taccini about 6 years ago, Eugenio not only personalized one of the paintings, but he took a picture with Kathy. It is that sort of contact with the artist that makes the work that more meaningful. When I moved to Siena, I didn't have occasion to come this way much, other than to visit Vivetta. The guests I had coming were very short term guests and there just wasn't time to visit Montelupo. However, three years ago, when I was in Italy for Christmas, quite by accident, I happened upon Taccini's work again. He had opened a small sales space in the Coop shopping center in Empoli. I bought one piece (Pinocchio and Mangiafuoco) and saw another: Pinocchio and the Carabinieri. It was rather large, much larger than my suitcase and I knew it would never in a million years fit in the overhead compartment on my British Airways flight home. I stood and weighed my options... how could I get this piece home? I could get to DHL and ship it... but not during Christmas week. Everything closes intermittently and without prior notice. Could I really buy this painting without any real assurance that it would get home? I decided to leave without it. But, it bothered me. It gnawed at me for literally years. When I redid the curtains in the living room and rearranged, I took the brass rubbing down from over the couch. I knew that the Pinocchio needed to be there... but every year I went to Italy, I never made it to Montelupo. Other things came up along the way and it just never materalized. Until yesterday. I decided yesterday would be the day I ventured to Taccini. I looked on the internet to see if his website had an updated address. I knew that they would be leaving the shopping center; his wife had mentioned they were about to move back to their original spot as the rent was simply too high in Empoli. I found the address and google mapped it. (Google directions had done me right going to Villa Romana, why not try again?) I was a little less successful with my directions this time. I drove through the center of town, I drove around the western part of town, I drove through the northern part of town... it was on the fourth (and what I had decided would be my last) attempt that I happened upon the spot. In fact, what had happened was that the way I was used to going had been turned into a pedestrian, one way system, so google was sending me on an alternate approach. As soon as I saw the Arno and the parking along the river, I knew I was in the vicinity. I headed down the road into the little borgo and immediately saw the maestro at work in the street in front of his studio. I asked him where the shop was. He grabbed the keys and led me down the block and unlocked the door. He said, "have a look around" and started to leave, to return to his work. I interrupted his departure with, "Excuse me, but I am actually looking for something rather specific. I was in your shop three years ago and saw a painting of Pinocchio and the Carabinieri. I don't suppose you still have it?" He chuckled and said, "Ahhh... I had two of them. One broke. One is in Collodi." I clearly looked disappointed. I explained how this image has been haunting me for years and how I was fascinated by his Pinocchio images and how I had three already at home, and I even had a picture of one as a background on my iPhone... (I tend to babble in Italian once I get started. I feel sorry for whatever Italian finds himself in the direct line of fire of my verbal barrages...) I then went on to explain how I was here all summer staying in Castel del Bosco... at this point, the maestro interrupted me. "Wait... you are here for a while?" "Yes! I am here until August. I am going to France for a few days at the beginning of August, but I am leaving from Pisa on the 8th of August, or the 7th of August..." He interrupted again. "I can recreate the painting for you if you are here for several weeks. I am in the middle of preparing for an exposition in Florence on the 15th. I will be in and out of the studio after that. But I can definitely have what you want before you return to the United States. (At some point, I mentioned that I was a Latin teacher from Washington D.C. and that I used to live in Siena... as if he was interested in my life story...) He proceeded to fish through a paper bag of pictures, looking for the image of Pinocchio and the Carabinieri, so that we could agree on what he would paint, that it would be the same one I had in mind. He fished through that bag for a good long time without being able to find the image. Finally, he said, "I will just sketch out what I had in mind and you tell me if it was you saw..." and with that, he began sketching, "How big was it?" I pointed out a painting next to us which as about the same size. "So, 8 tiles... ok..." And the next thing I knew, he had perfectly recreated the image of Pinocchio being hauled away by two policemen. Overjoyed, I approved the design. The maestro and I exchanged email addresses, and he vowed he would get to work on it when he could but that he would have it done in plenty of time for me to organize the shipping home. He would send me a photo of it as soon as it was done so I could see and give the final approval. I could hardly believe that I was having a painting done specifically for me! It is one thing to go in and buy a piece and have the artist sign it to you, (which is what I did yesterday... I picked up a nice Pinocchio with the fox and the cat done on a pinkish mauve background which will be great in my new bedroom). But to have a painting done specifically for you, that is something special. You can find an entry on Taccini's Ceramics Shop in Fodor's. But, you would never know it by the lack of foot traffic in Montelupo. It is definitely a hidden gem of a place. This is the Italy I love. The secret, "I know a place..." or "I have a ceramics guy..." or "My jeweler is just terrific..." It is only by spending a long time in a place that you really get to know not just where things are, but where you can get the best panorama photo, or where the best onion marmellata is, or who can get you the best deal, or what artist is the best kept secret. The best kept secret artist is most definitely the maestro, Eugenio Taccini. For the other secrets, you will have to come visit to find out...

Two cars crashing in the night (evening)...

Two cars crashing in the night (evening)... When I lived in Siena, I did some translation work for a group called Radio Papesse (www.radiopapesse.org). It started out as an internship, and then I ended up taking various freelance museum audio guide projects. Some of them are attached to their website unde the archives. It was great fun, and work of which I am very proud. But, mostly, I am grateful because I met some really great people in the process. It is with these great people that I begin my tale today: I received a message via Facebook from Carola, one of the Papesse girls, inviting me to an art opening in Florence for the evening of the 5th. I couldn't say no. I love an art opening and I was eager to reconnect with old friends. So, on the 5th, I cleaned myself up, put on a dress and some make up and headed to Florence, armed with google maps directions to the Villa Romana (www.villaromana.org), where I would see an exhibition of the work of Gianfranco Baruchello. I followed the directions meticulously and when I thought I was almost there, I parked the car in a free (i.e. you don't have to pay) spot outside the walls of the city. I knew it was going to be dicey getting the car out, because of the traffic pattern behind me, but I figured it would be late and there would be less traffic then. So, I left the car and started off on foot. I walked and walked and walked. When I eventually found the Villa Romana, and saw that there was ample free parking on the street out front, I decided to go move the car. I had plenty of time, seeing as I was 20 minutes early (a feat which almost never happens). I set off back to the car, still with plenty of time. I got in the car. I secured my seat belt. I took a slug of warm tea from the bottle next to me. I was ready. I looked in the mirror and eased out of the spot. I got into the lane of traffic without any problem, and then I decided to make a quick u-turn. Wrong... As I turned the wheel, a little Opel Corsa came from nowhere and I hit her. It was totally my fault, since I was making this STUPID U-turn from the inside lane... What was I thinking?? In all honesty, I didn't think I had hit her. I didn't feel an impact, onlt the force of the car stopping abruptly. I got out and surveyed my damage. I had a rub mark on my front left bumper and that was it. I am going to pick up some rubbing compound and rub it out without any problem... Her car, well, there is a dent and a scratch and a HUGE rub mark. She is going to need some body work... I felt really bad, because it WAS my fault. But, geez... I have never had an accident in Italy before, and apparently neither had she. She called her husband and he instructed her to get me to fill in the CID which is an accident report you submit to the insurance when there is not much damage and you don't call the police. I think it is a great idea, and we should have this system in the States. It would make Judge Milian's job on the People's Court SO MUCH EASIER!! Anyhow, we filled in the report, as best as we could. The whole thing was in Italian, and much of it was asking information I could not provide, like in what State the car was registered... It wasn't on any of the little slips of paper I could find. At least no one was hurt. She was terribly nice, this poor Cristina B. who found herself in my path last night. And, maybe she will at least have a fun story to share with her friends and family about how she met this crazy American who rammed into her and kept nattering on about how she had never had an accident before... she couldn't understand what she was thinking... how it was totally her fault... (All things I would NEVER have admitted at home, but since the car has comprehensive insurance under their policy and I am not financially responsible for any of it, I figured I was in the clear.) In any case, I was able to get it all filled in, and get back on my way, now 20 minutes late for the start, but 10 minutes early for the presentation. I found a great spot right out front of the Villa, went in and met up with Carola and Ilaria. I had a wonderful evening, sipping wine, listening to an art historian have a Q&A session with the artist himself and then partaking in an al fresco dinner after. (Actually, I didn't eat, since I had eaten before leaving home, but I sat and enjoyed the company and conversation of long lost friends.) An evening that started with a BANG (or at least a CRASH) ended very quietly, and peacefully. I returned to Castel del Bosco around 1 in the morning, and waited an hour for my AP scores to post (the College Board was posting at 8PM US Time). Much as the evening was a net success, the AP scores were a net success. I had 5 pass, 6 not, but I don't count the one kid who got a 1 because he did no work all year and told me he wasn't even going to prepare for the test or answer the questions seriously. (Nice...) The scores that passed were good and I was pleased overall with the results. Just like my evening: serene, but with a few bumps along the way. Isn't that just like life?

The swimming pool

Today's installment is an entry I wrote last year, about going to the pool here in Pontedera. I am attaching it here now because it is timely, and I will have an addendum to it at the end. Enjoy! I have got a fun new game... we can all play. It is called, "Let's see what we can to to piss of the American swimming laps!" It is easy and fun for the whole family!! The way it works is this: when we see her swimming in her lane, not bothering anyone, we jump in front of her and stop. Or we send our kid to kick water in her face. Or, best yet, and worth the most points, jump in, cannonball-style, right in front of her as she is coming to the end of her lap. Sounds like fun, huh? Well, apparently, for the good citizens of Pontedera, at least those who frequent the 'piscina communale' or the public pool, it provides hours and hours of fun. At least, four hours, to be exact. I have been to the pool four times, each for and hour and I have had nary a quarter of an hour total of peaceful swimming. Now, don't get me wrong, I do understand that this is a pool for everyone, even the rude and obnoxious. However, where is the common decency? There is a lot of space. It is a HUGE pool. Perhaps the biggest pool I have ever seen. It is 50 meters long and at least 25 meters across, perhaps even wider. It is a gorgeous pool. The middle 4 lanes are roped off for adults to swim in, but that doesn't mean that kids don't play there. The first day I went, I was swimming along, minding my own business in a lane with three middle aged men, who were doing likewise. These kids were jumping in as each of these men were finishing their laps. Not one man said a word to them. When it was my turn to finish my lap, one of this 'young imps' dove into me, missing me by centimeters. I stopped, reared up and screeched in English, "Holy Christ, what the f do you think you are doing?" I yelled in English, mainly because it was instinct. I was frightened and shocked. However, it did the trick because they backed off for the rest of our swim. My question is why didn't one of the men say something? These brats will be brats as long as they are allowed to be brats. The next few days were more or less the same... bothersome, but not dangerous. A few fellow swimmers (women) not respecting the lane directions, or swimming backstroke with no idea where they were going. Stuff like that. But, the fourth day... it was an "all play!" I went to the pool knowing there was a thunderstorm brewing. It was cool (75 degrees) windy, and grey. Not a speck of sun. I thought that this boded well for me. The pool would be empty, I could get my swim in. Boy, was I wrong! The place was PACKED!! Kids everywhere. Adults everywhere. (I ask myself why the adults are not at work... and if they are out of work, why are they wasting their money on pool admission which is not cheap.) I got in the chilly water and started my swim. There was one boy who seemingly had my number from the get-go. As I approached him, he went under water and looked me in the eye and as I grew nearer, he swam in front of me and stopped. If I tried to avoid him, he zigged to stop me. I am not exaggerating when I say that this kid was messing with me. When I moved lanes, he followed. What was most shocking, however, was when his MOTHER got in the pool and started swimming laps, not respecting the lane directions and intentionally swam coming at me, when she knew that I was swimming there first and had been swimming to the right. About 5 minutes into this cat and mouse game, her kid started the "let's stop in front of the swimmer" game with his mother. Rather than chew him out for being obnoxious and rude, she just laughed it off. He continued, thinking he was being cute. He was at least 13 years old... far from cute. Now: Flash forward one year. I am no longer frequenting the piscina communale in Pontedera, because of the abysmal behavior of the local kids. I have found a better pool, larger and better equipped for both the swimmer for exercise and the swimmer for fun. Le Barbate is the name of the establishment. It is a private complex, not governed by the rules of the commune. It has two connected pools, one 25 meter lap pool with roped off, dedicated swimming lanes, and one huge kidney shaped pool with slides and big water gushers... everything a kid could want in a pool! I started coming here because I thought the issue of kids in swimming lanes would not be a problem, since they had the other, huge, and way more fun pool just to the left of them. Boy, I couldn't have been more wrong. Can I tell you-- they will leave the worlds of fun pool empty to stand, frolic or cannonball jump into the swimmers' lanes! This is not exclusive to kids, either. Older men will stand at the end of the lane, with arms crossed, blocking your lane turn, and glare at you in a menacing way, as you finish your lap. Older women will simply float in the lane on their backs, sideways. It is almost as if they have no understanding of the concept of DEDICATED SWIMMING LANES. And, the "life guards" do little to nothing to regulate any of this behavior. My only conclusion is that this IS a game that all Italians love to play, not just with Americans, but with swimmers, in general. Much as they do not respect the rule of standing in line and waiting one's turn for anything, they do not respect the rule of the swimming lane. They feel as if they are entitled to run rampant through the pool. They must feel as if they have paid their price for entry and, dammit, they are going to use every inch of the pool, no matter what it is dedicated for. Or, maybe it is not a game after all... The entitlement is their's: Adults here apparently don't reprimand their kids for obnoxious behavior. They often join in with the behaviors. This is why, when you go to a restaurant in Italy, you can spot the Italian kids a mile off. They are the ones running ape-shit-wild around the restaurant, while their parents are busy socializing and smoking cigarettes. The German kids and the Dutch kids are the ones sitting quietly, eating their meals, not saying a word. The American kids may be sitting at the table, but they are being loud, usually complaining that they want something else to eat, something that isn't on the menu. I am glad to see that the phenomenon of the little snowflake is not particular to the good old U.S. of A.

The more things change, the more things stay the same...

Here we are: Summer 2012. I guess I could entitle this blog entry: The more things change, the more they stay the same... So much has changed since I first started coming to Castel del Bosco for my summer vacations. I have lost 140 pounds, for one thing. I no longer teach full-time. My Italian is much better, having actually LIVED in Siena for 3 years. However, what has stayed the same? No matter how hard I try, I will always arrive in Italy, whether it is at the Pisa Airport, or into Milan or Rome... with at least one piece of luggage missing. This year, both bags decided to stay in London an extra night. I guess they thought that if I couldn't enjoy a longer layover in Heathrow, they would oblige on my behalf. I knew even before leaving Washington that I would arrive at Pisa without my bags. My 6:40 PM flight did not actually take off until after 8 PM. This delay meant that I would have precicely twenty minutes to deplane from flight #1 and board flight #2; inorder to do this, one must traverse terminal 5, passing again through passport control and security. As I left the plane (thank GOD I was in business class, so was at the from of the line to exit), there was a British Airways employee waiting with a sign for the Pisa flight. He ticked my name off and handed me a bright orange "express connections" pass. This is essentially a "fast track" pass, which I already had, since I was travelling business class. What I really needed was a "front of the line" pass, which I don't think exists, unless you are Sting or Madonna or Lady Gaga. So, I made my way through passports relatively quickly to the purgatory which is Terminal 5 A Gates security, only to wait and wait and wait. I do not understand for the life of me, nor will I ever understand, why people approach airport security as if they have never flown before. They are resplendent in fake metal jewelry, forgetting to remove belts and shoes, neglecting to take out computers and iPads... And, there is ALWAYS a half empty bottle of Diet Coke in a backpack or purse. When it was my turn to cross the threshold of the metal detector, I had to wait. Of course, they let 6 men pass through ahead of me. But, I had to wait, because the WOMAN in front of me was being patted down on account of the change she had left in her pants pocket. When I questioned the guy on the other side why they were letting me through, he stated it was because if I had a problem, he couldn't touch me. "You have got to be kidding me... I swear, I won't be a problem." He assured me it wouldn't be much longer. I kept explaining that my flight was LEAVING. He couldn't have cared less. When it was finally my turn, I raced through, collected my backpack and purse and took off for gate A-17 at a sprint! A-17 was about as far as I could have been from security, of course. I arrived just as they were getting ready to close the gate. Thankfully, I was able to board, however, my bags never made it on. The flight itself was rather unremarkable. I got to Pisa, went through passports and went directly to the luggage carrousel. I stood there, obediently, waiting to see if my mocha rouge Vera Bradley luggage was coming around the bend. Of course, I knew, logically, that it wasn't. However, there was some part of me, the obedient rule follower part, that stood and waited. When the last bag had been collected, I went to the 'lost luggage" counter to make my claim. I was not the only one who had a close connection, so there were several of us waiting. I took my number (76) and waited. They were assisting numer 41. I knew I was in for the long haul. We were instructed to wait outside the glass doors of the office until our numbers came up. We waited and waited and waited. About 45 minutes later, when none of us had been helped, yet the office was still full of people, I went in and asked what the problem was. I was shouted at and instructed to continue to wait outside by a rather severe older woman. So, being the rule follower I am, I returned to my perch. Another 15 minutes passed and the number was still 41. I returned to the office and went to the young man at the desk and said that we were waiting an hour now and the number had not changed. He instantly punched the number button all the way to numer 79 and called for 79. This was so arbitrary and random, I could barely speak. But, speak I did. "Whoa! I'm number 76!! What about me?!" He conceded that he had missed me and motioned me to come forward. Whatever. I just wanted to get my rental car and go get supplies for the interim... So, I went through the process of declaring my luggage lost. It was rather embarrassing because the young man asked what was in my bags... I couldn't bear to say that one entire small roller bag was full of 24 kilos of gummy vitamins, sugar free coffee syrup, Luna bars and other random supplements and drug store items. So, I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "you know, what you would expect..." To which he replied, "so, personal effects." To which I replied, "yeah, let's go with that: personal effects." "Anything to declare?" "Good heavens, no!" (Of course, if any of my quirky cargo was prohibited, it would never have made it out of London...) And, with that, I was released with a slip of paper outlining my rights and responsibilities as a BA passenger without luggage. I picked up my car (thankfully, there were no problems with that) and went to the IperCoop on the way home and picked up food, water and random sundry items to last me a couple of days (a cheap bathing suit, a couple of tshirts and some underwear...). In the end, my bags arrived the very next day. They were waiting outside my door when I arrived back from the pool. When my Mom and sister-in-law came many years ago, my mom's bags didn't make it. We did the same IperCoop run and went to the beach the next day. And, sure enough, the bags were waiting for us when we returned home that evening. So, the moral of the story is that if you lose your luggage, go to the IperCoop, buy a cheap suit and hit some sun and water. Like clockwork, your bags will be waiting for you when you get home. I should have applied that formula to the situation the last time I lost my bags coming in through Milan. I will definitely be testing the theory next year, when I arrive sans luggage!

Just when it was starting to get good

Just when it was starting to get good...

It is Saturday. The last day of our cruise. Today we got up early, went to the makeshift gym on board, which consists of one (1) elliptical, which doesn't plug in, but runs on batteries, two (2) treadmills, and two (2) bikes. We did our usual one hour of cardio, then went down to breakfast. The food onboard the Orient Queen really is superior to that which was served on the Cristal. After a lovely breakfast, we retired to our cabin and basically relaxed until it was time to eat again.

As an aside, you should know that housekeeping is rather over zealous on the Orient Queen. Yesterday, we were visited no less than six (6) times for various and sundry reasons. Today, in the three hours between breakfast and lunch, we had three (3) visits. Just when we had gotten comfortable, or had dozed off for a cat nap... Knock knock knock. "Housekeeping.". It was almost as if the Cristal had sent over a copy of our pictures and said : "Keep these two on their toes!"

When it was time for lunch, we headed up to the Horizon Restaurant and when we arrived, we were seated with a family we had had dinner with last night. Let me now take this opportunity to tell you about the assortment of people we have seen on this cruise, starting first with this particular family. We saw them the first day on the Cristal: a mother, about 60 and German looking, father, 60 and Persian, and a daughter. We figured our age-- early 40's. She had this far away look about her, and we were convinced that she was probably drug addicted, or a recovering addict of some sort. We immediately dubbed her AA in da house and her parents as just mom and dad. Everyhwere we were, they were, too. Every tour, every meal. Even in the lounge... Mom and dad loved a nightcap. AA always went right to bed. But, we never interfaced with them. It became something of a running joke to say, "Oohh, AA in da house" every time they surfaced. Little did we know that they would be following us to the Orient Queen! When I discovered this, Maureen was on the elliptical and I had gone to the disembarkation meeting. They were in the same figurative and literal boat as we were regarding the screwed up itinerary. As soon as the meeting ended, I nearly broke my leg running to the gym to tell Maureen that AA in da house and mom and dad were coming with us to the next ship. When we got to the new ship and had to register for table reservations, Maureen said, "wouldn't it be funny if AA in da house and mom and dad were seated with us for dinner?". I replied that it would be funny, but we weren't that lucky...

Well, as luck would have it, THEY WERE! And as luck would FURTHER have it, they are freaking from DC! They seemed as amused by the turn of luck as we were to be seated all together. It turns out that the daughter is not AA, but she is "special." Mom and dad are super cool and we had a great time talking to them at dinner, swapping warstories, as it were, about the Cristal. AA, well, bless her heart. She seemed still to live at home, and try as her parents have, she seems to have a job as a massage therapist. The dad is a retired scientist and mom seems to have been in the hospitality industry. It was less jarring to be seated together at lunch today, as well. We enjoyed the conversation and it passed the time until we were able to go up on deck and see the entry into the port of Istanbul, which happened about an hour ahead of schedule.

We went up and got some amazing photos of the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia from the Bosphorous. It made us a little sad that we were not going to see anything, since as soon as we disembarked we were going straight to the airport, as per the instructions of "mom and dad" who had told us at lunch that we were leaving during rush hour and that we shouldn't chance it, and go directly to the airport-- the traffic would be horrible. And, horrible it is. This traffic makes the beltway look like child's play. As I type this, I am in the back seat of a yellow fiat sitting in the worst traffic I have ever seen in my life. We clearly made the right decision to go directly to the airport. Hopefully, we will get in, get a coffee and I will be able to upload the last three blog entries. I know there are many people following, even if it feels like I am typing these out just for myself. I hope you are enjoying our trials and tribulations... And, Darla, send Donna D your address so I can send you your prize for identifying the Kellerman's reference ;) !

Just when you give up all hope...

When we arrived to Piraeus (Athens) the Louis Cristal terminated its service. That was a problem, since we needed to start and end in Istanbul. As a result, Louis Cruise Lines graciously offered to transfer us to another ship and take us back to our starting point. The transfer would happen at 8:00 AM to the Orient Queen, a much smaller liner. We were escorted over where nothing seemed to be waiting or ready for us. We also had been assured that we would have plenty of time in Athens to tour around and that we would be left with explicit directions how to get downtown. to the Acropolis, etc. All of the most important information. But, as I am sure you have guessed, THAT did not happen. We were left on the Orient Queen, much like the redheaded step child is left on alternate Sundays and at the end of summer vacation: feeling sad, alone and basically a burden.

We went to the excursion desk after going to our new cabin (#6051) A.K.A. the smallest coffin on the face of the earth... "How does one get into Athens from here?" And, I swear to God this was her reply: "You just go out the door and start walking." I didn't even know what to do with that comment. Maureen, who clearly was more on top of things than I was, quickly retorted: "Is it better to take a taxi or the subway or is there a better way?" "Oh yes, a taxi is best." "Ok. how much, about, will a taxi cost?" "I do not know. But there is list on the wall with the places and costs."

I was, actually, rather impressed that there would be a list of approximate taxi charges posted anywhere, because, in all of my travels, I have never encountered such a list. We came out of the port terminal and began looking for this glorious list. SURPRISE. No such list exists. Yet another lie we were told by the staff of Louis Cruise Lines.

However, within seconds, a man approached us. "You need taxi?" "Weeeelll, yesssss. We need a taxi. But, first, about how much will it cost to go to the Acropolis?" And, ladies and gentlemen, this is where it gets unbelieveable: (this was in pretty broken English)

"OK: how this sound? When you need be back? By one o'clock? OK. You see Acropolis, Parliment, Olympic Stadio, Plaka you be back here at one. That is 4 hour. You like I take you." I was a little wary of this... so I asked: "How much for that?" "One million... hahaha.... I just kidding... One hundred euro. Four hour." I looked at Maureen and I thought, 50 each not to have to fuss, hassle, navigate a strange city on my own... I was down with that. "What do you think, I think it is a good idea not to have to deal with the headache..." Thankfully, she agreed and the next thing we knew, we were getting into a cab. Costas, our private driver for the morning, began telling us in very limited English about how many people lived in Piraeus and Athens, a little history and pointed out things along the way. He even pulled the cab over so we could take pictures of Athens across the marina. At one point, he swerved into a side street that looked like at any time, a hoarde of criminals could ambush the car, drag us out and shoot us up with heroin and shove us into the sex slave trade... "It only just now occurred to me what we have done... My father would have a heart attack if he knew we just got into a non-descript cab in the port of Athens, never to be heard from again..." "Yeah, well you just won't tell him..." "Until he reads the blog..." So, Daddy, calm down now, this is the way it works in Greece, apparently... We met another group (that blog will follow, where we tell you about the typical 'cruiser' we met along the way...) and they did the same thing with their cabbie. It is totally value for the price: if you figure, we were spending 65 euro for the tour organized by the ship, and then we get left behind. At least with this, we were sure to see what we needed. But, I digress...

We got to the Acropolis and he pulls into a parking lot and says: "OK. You go there. One hour and a half. Come right back here at 10:30. OK. Bye." I looked at Maureen, shrugged my shoulders and we crossed the street. I said, "DO you not think it is weird that he didn't want us to pay him now something? I mean, we could totally ditch him, and have gotten a free ride in to the city. I mean, of course we are not going to ditch him, but HE doesn't know that..." Maureen figured that this wasn't his first rodeo and he was probably a good judge of character. We wouldn't be the types that would do that sort of thing. So, we headed up the very steep incline to the ticket office and then up further throught the Propylaea (the gateway into the temple complex). We spend the hour and now fifteen minutes walking around, taking pictures and basically admiring the spectacular views of the city from the highest point in the city. It was amazing, unlike anything I had ever seen before. And exactly the right amount of time to have spent. Clearly, Costas knew what he was doing.

We exited the Acropolis and went back to the cab. ANd, sure enough, Costas was there waiting for us. We hopped in the cab and we were off to the next stop: the Temple of Zeus. "You get out here: come back in 15 minutes. You no pay ticket. Use acropolis ticket. No pay. Ok?." And, like obedient school children, we went on our way. Sure enough, 15 minutes was the perfect amount of time to spend. We returned and Costas announced we would see parliment and then the presidential palace and the changing of the guard. And sure enough, we drove slowly enough past the parliment building to get some snaps and then we stopped at the palace. Costas pulled the cab over and we all got out. Sure enough, the guard was changing. It was like they saw Costas' yellow cab turn the corner and they started the drill. It took about 5 minutes and then Costas says: "You go stand there. I take picture." And, sure enough, we took a picture of the three of us: me, Maureen and the guard. The amount of time the whole thing took was exactly the same amount of time it took to smoke a cigarette. I personally think that Costas has timed this so perfectly over the years that he can build in breaks approrpriately.

Next, we whizzed our way past the Olympic Stadium (stopping quickly to take a picture) and then to the shopping area called the Plaka, where there was apparently another site (I think it was the Roman Agora, but I could be wrong, as we opted to have a coffee instead of going into the site). Costas gave us our marching orders: "You go there. Just walk. Plaka... 100 meters.... come here one hour. 12:30 here Alpha Bank. OK? Ok." And with that, he was off. We meandered through the shop-lined pedestrian walkway until Maureen squeals: "OH MY GOD! THERE'S A STARBUCKS!" And, with that, we declared that this had been the perfect day, by anyone's standards: sight seeing, beautiful weather, private driver, and now a grande skinny sugarfree vanilla latte. We ordered, hooked onto the free wifi and enjoyed a lovely coffee outside under the cloudlessly blue Greek sky. When our time in the Plaka was up, we went back to the agreed upon rendezvous point. And, sure enough, Costas was there waiting for us. We climbed into the cab and headed back to the port. When we got back, we paid him his 100 euros and exchanged hand shakes and hugs all around and we all parted company, us to the Orient Queen and him to his next victims, I mean, passengers. All kidding aside, I'd bet that he makes a pretty good living doing that: if he has 2 of these "situations" a day, 20 days a month, cash (i.e. tax free). You do the math! Costas is bring in some good drachma!

We returned to our new digs on the Orient Queen to get ready to get underway, and to relax after our whirlwind tour of Athens. It was a great day, totally unexpected on so many different levels. It was refreshing to see that somewhere in this world there is still someone (apparently an entire culture of 'someones') who is so unjaded by everyday life that he trusts complete strangers to do the honest thing. This sort of thing would NEVER happen back home. We are the land of "pay before you pump." I am probably the most untrusting person out there, and this experience would have shaken me had it happened under any other circumstances. I would have tried to pay before, or pay half now, half later. But, because there was a language barrier, I just went with it, trusting that the cabbie knew what he was doing. If only we could get back to that level of mutual trust. But, then again, Greece is a mess... maybe they need to trust less and be more jaded. Then, they wouldn't have to strike as much and they economy would not be a drag on the rest of Europe. Maybe we do have the right idea, afteralll, in the USA...

And on the seventh day...

And on the seventh day...

Sorry there was no blog posted on Thursday, but, frankly, we had had just about enough and could not bring ourselves to relive it via the written word.

We got up on Thursday morning and were marshalled to buses which would take us to the Palace at Knossos. I was, personally, looking forward to seeing this, as this is something I always used to teach: the story of Theseus and the Minotaur and Ariadne... Catullus 64 is such a favorite of mine. So, excited to see this mythic complex, reconstructed as it was, I boarded bus number 5, ready for anything. We drove a very short distance with all the other "English Speaking Passengers Traveling Individually" being led by a guide called 'Katarina.' She was a sight to behold, to be sure. She was a vision in brown... a belly shirt which revealed an ample belly, and sultan pants, think Units, circa 1988. She began giving us background to Crete, the population, the geography, you know, the regular run-down we had been getting from the other local guides. Then, I closed my eyes and just kind of nodded off. She had one of those voices which didn't really engage the listener nor did it inspire one to take notice.

We arrived at the archaeological site within minutes, leaving the bus to enter the exhibition. All assembled, Maureen and I both turned out backs for a split second, (ok, more like 35 seconds) to snap a picture, and POOF! The guide and the ENTIRE group had disappeared. Like Brigadoon, they were a mere figment of our collective memory. We took off after them, or at least after where we imagined they MAY have gone. Nothing. We followed the paths through the palace complex, searching high and low. No sign of them. So, we kind of gave up looking and instead walked through, snapping pictures and imagining what the different things might be that we were seeing. The worst part was that we had paid 65 Euros each for the pleasure and privilege of being left behind and depreived of the tour. This was just the last straw. To say that we were (and, truth be told, still are) bitter is an extreme understatement,

We returned to the ship and began the journey to Santorini. This took about 4 hours, give or take. In the interim, Maureen worked out and I began the packing process, since Thursday was, effectively, the last day of our cruise on the Cristal. At 3:45, the Louis Cristal pulled in to the waters in front of Santorini. We disembarked on tenders, which docked up against the Cristal, which was not stopping because there was not a place to drop anchor (think mid-air refueling style). It was harrowing and not something I am looking forward to repeating any time soon. Upon arriving ashore, we took a cable car straight up to the top of a cliff where we found a very picturesque little resort village, a little like San Marino in the kitch factor. We had a latte in a cafe overlooking the caldera of the volcano, and then, as quickly as arrived, we departed.

Dinner in the main dining room was, communal, as always, but we were permitted to order from a menu tonight. I ordered the entrecote and Maureen had the perch. On the menu, it clearly stated that my meat would be "grilled to your liking." I ordered and when I was not asked how I wanted my steak done, I asked Maureen to mention to the guy taking the order that I wanted it 'rare.' He stated very quickly, 'it comes all the same. Is like a roast.' Hmmmm.... entrecote is a steak, not a roast. So, a moment later, he came back and asked me again how I wanted my meat cooked, apparently, he had never been told how to cook a steak before, and he didn't know what an entrecote was. Nice. Soon, our meals arrived, and along with my meat came a knife.... a butter knife. I was not able to saw my way through more than half of the meat on my plate. When he came to collect my plate, he was appalled that I had left so much. "What? Is no good?" "It was fine. I just couldn't hack through it with the knife you left. Had you been by to check on us, you would have known that." He just ignored my snark, took my plate and skulked off to the kitchen. Whatever. Again, it was simply the icing on the cake.

After dinner, we headed to our favorite seat in the Rendezvous Lounge for one last night of hits. The hits were less inspired than usual. The bloom was clearly off the rose and we were thoroughly disillusioned. We ordered the banana mocha latte, as we had done each and every night of the cruise. It came, not as a mocha, but sans chocolate. Yuck. I was just too tired to argue. Maureen, however, was not. "I'm sick of being treated like this." And she marched the coffees back to the bar. Shortly, they came back right. But, we were done.

We went down to our cabin at about 11, ready to sack out, because we had decided to get up before 5 to work out early. This was essential, since we had to vacate the cabin no later than 7 AM. We came down to the floor only to find scads of teens congregating in the hall. We gave them a few minutes and then turned out the light, hoping they would simmer down. They didn't. I opened the door, and announced in my loudest, bitchiest voice, "Ok ladies, let's take it into our rooms and turn out the lights. We all have to be up early tomorrow." They turned, ostensibly to disperse. Boy, was I wrong. The phone rang about 20 minutes later, about 10 minutes after I had finally drifted off to sleep. "You called for a wake-up call?" The heavily accented front desk worker was asking. "No!" I hung up abruptly. About 5 minutes later, the phone rang again. "You call for wake-up call?" "NO!" Slamming down the receiver. This scenario played out 3 more times before I threatened: "I am not calling for a wake-up call. If youcall one more time, I am coming up there!" That was it. No more calls. But, the damage was done. I never did get completely back to sleep.

We did get up early, get our work out done and checked out from the M/V Louis Cristal in record time. When we met Elizabeth, the cruise director (think Dawn French with 80's hair), and told her the tale of our woe, from the screwed up reservations to the unruly kids, she just stared blanklt at us and offered an empty apology. We both filled in comment cards with extensive and detaoled commentary on our cruise experience. I don't expect to get a follow-up communique from the Louis Cruise Lines, but at least I feel better for having gotten it all off my chest.

It is like deja vu all over again

It's like déjà vu all over again

My favorite Yogi Berra truism is "it's like déjà vu all over again." Every part of today felt like something we had done before, even though we were on a vacation we have never before taken. Let's begin with how the 4th of April, 2012 officially began:

At the strike of midnight, we were awoken by the stampede of teenaged feet, followed by the sound of drunken voices. Maureen and I shot up out of our respective beds, (the cabin is really comfortable, except the beds are a little like cots...) and Maureen bolted for the door. The next thing I knew, she was down the hall chewing out a bunch of 16 boys and girls: "Listen. My friend and I are both teachers. We've taken kids on these trips... We know what goes on...". She didn't have to say another word. One of the boys just said, "yes, ma'am." while the girls threw some relatively dirty looks. Regardless, we didn't hear another PEEP out of them. I wish that was all it would have taken to get Langley, Spring Break 2006 under control. I still have nightmares about the night we stayed in Siena...

Eventually, we fell back asleep until 6:15 when we got up, dressed and went up to breakfast. We eat breakfast in the same dining room each day, Asia seems to be the nicest-- a buffet. The downside is that they seat you family style with people you don't know, or care to know. There seemed to be 10 workers for every diner this morning. If one more person asked me if I wanted another coffee, I was going to scream! I even took another coffee, thinking that would keep them from asking me, and it didn't. A full cup in front of me, and I still got asked if I wanted more. The theme of this cruise seems to me more, more, more. My dad would have loved this in his heyday... It is all you can eat, 24/7. We used to joke that he could put a smorgasbord into receivership in one visit. But, I digress...

We got our exercise out of the way, early, and got cleaned up. At about 10:30, we headed off the boat and into the port city of the island of Rhodes. As I mentioned before, our organized tours were canceled due to planned strikes of whomever... I'm not sure what public sector was disgruntled today. So, we were left to our own devices. As soon as we exited the port area, we saw up ahead a hop-on, hop-off tour bus. "Hot damn! A tour bus!". For those who are new to following my travels, let me tell you one thing you need to know about how I roll: I love a hop-on hop-off bus. Thank god I travel with someone who is equally appreciative of a semi-organized tour. It was like God himself was watching over us, as the bus was just sitting there, empty and waiting for us. We paid our €9 each, and boarded. There was no brochure so we had no idea where we were going,mor what we would see. I popped down to ask for a map, and was given just that: a map of the island... Hmmm... This didn't bode well. But, we were on and it didn't matter much. We took off and kept waiting for the commentary to begin. Just music. We drove past interesting sites, still just music. We went up the hill, to the acropolis, still music. Soon, there was a little information, badly placed, about the ethnic and cultural origins of the island. Then, more music. Soon, the voice came back and thanked me for my attention, and informed me that the tour ended here. Huh. I knew nothing about the island. I would even dare to say that I knew even less after the tour than before. What was funny was that up on the acropolis, we saw another bus, from another company, and Maureen said, "Hey. I think that's the bus we wanted..." It did look much more reputable, and I'd be willing to bet that they got commentary and maps. But, at that point, in for a penny, in for a pound. Right? Soon, the bus dropped us at the gate to the old city. We disembarked from the bus and started down the road. We walked up and down each and every little side street, snapping photos along the way. We went tot the museum in the Knights' Palace, which houses some of the most beautiful Roman mosaics I have ever seen. (it reminded me a lot of Ferrara and the fortress-castle we visited last year.) After our museum visit, we did some souvenir shopping and grabbed a little lunch. Maureen ordered a Greek salad and mussels saganaki. I had some feta cheese. The feta was the smoothest, nicest feta I have ever eaten. Maureen declared her Greek salad to be the "Greek-est" she'd ever had. After lunch, we meandered our way back toward the boat. Maureen looked at me and said, "You know, it is weird that we are going back to a boat. It feels like we should be going back to the car. Today feels like it was any other day of any other vacation we have taken. It was kind of nice to have a familiar day like that.". I have to agree with her. It really did feel like a day we have already lived, but lived in another skin. The tour bus was kind of like Coimbra. The lunch, kind of like Merida. The museum, Ferrara. The souvenir shopping, like the Amalfi Coast. The difference is that those trips were another lifetime ago.

Tonight is the captain's cocktail hour and "elegant dress" dinner. We have decided to take advantage of this by booking in to the restaurant that doesn't serve the masses boarding house style. I expect we will round out the evening with some hits, a piña colada and a banana mocha latte. Because, as the saying goes, the more things change, the more things stay the same... And we are both creatures of habit, if nothing else!

Turkish Delights

Day four of the cruise brought us back to Turkey this morning. We had a show time of 7:15 AM for our tour of Ancient Ephesus, so we were up and out by 6:45 for breakfast and bus boarding. We boarded bus number 22, along with all the other "English Speakers Not Affiliated with Other Groups" a.k.a. the adults not chaperoning EF tour groups... We were led by a very nice turkish man called Oz, who spoke absolutely impeccable English. (As an aside, it embarrasses me to think that so many non-native English speakers exists outside our borders and so many Americans refuse to learn a second language with any sort of proficiency...) Our bus took us about 30 minutes inland to the archaelogical site of Ephesus, a Roman city which thrived between the 2nd century BC and 2nd century AD, and then finally was abandoned in around the 7th century AD. On the road, we passed an arena which is used for CAMEL WRESTLING. Yes, you read correctly, CAMEL WRESTLING. Oz advised us to Google it on YouTube and we would see the phenomenon of the sport. Apparently, two festooned male camels are led into a ring. A female camel is led in and is "introduced" to the males. They are sufficiently "aroused" then they are muzzled and the female is led out. They then fight until one gives up and the other proudly struts around the ring the victor. It is unclear if he actually gets the girl in the end... But, nonetheless, it sounds dazzling! I cannot wait to get home to see how it all works!

So, we arrived at the archaelogical site and toured the ruins in about an hour and a half. It was the perfect amount of time. My friends are forever surprised that I am not such a fan of touring ancient sites. The truth be told, I don't watch movies with ancient themes or high school kids as protagonists, either. I find that I spend all my professional time with the ancient Romans, I need some other interests. Also, I find that the tour guides usually screw up facts and I have little patience for misinformation and cannot stand to keep quiet. So, rather than look like the obnoxious Latin teacher, it is easier to steer clear. That said, we went from there back to Kusadasi, the port, where we were taken to a rug and jewelry gallery.

The were led into a shop and upstairs to a staging area where there were 4 long cushioned benches. A rotund man came in and introduced himself. At this point, I wasn't really paying attention, because I had no intention of buying anything, and really was fixated on heading back to the ship to work out before our spa appointments. This man then asked who would like "refreshment" (insert appropriate Borat accent). Maureen, who by now has fully imbibed the kool aid, ordered a Turkish coffee, I ordered nothing, not wanting to get bogged down by the "extra." the next thing we knew, a gaggle of 20 year old guys came from nowhere and started unfurling carpets onto the hardwood exposition floor. The whole while, the emcee was talking about the ways in which the rugs were made, the women who tied each knot by hand, the goats who supplied the wool, etc. it was dazzling to see the speed with which these boys slapped the rugs one on top of each other. Then one came out and caught my eye. With that I got sucked in. The emcee kept inviting the audience to "please. Come touch carpet. Stand on carpet.". I walked over to the one I liked and felt it. It felt like a rug... But, I was mesmerized by the colors; they really were unlike anything I had ever seen in a Turkish/ oriental carpet. Then, another rug came out, (by now, there had to be 150 rugs on the floor) and Maureen made a bee-line over to that. With that, the round man came over and asked me if I like. I said I did, and the next thing I knew, I was being led into a back room where I negotiated in a culturally appropriate manner. Maureen soon joined me and, she, too, settled on a good price for her rug. After the paperwork was finished, we were led downstairs into the jewelry gallery. We were then shown a myriad of pieces, all beautiful, but, again, one spoke to me as soon as it came up: a rose gold bracelet with rubies and diamonds. So gorgeous. Likewise, Maureen heard the siren song of a beautiful ring. It is absolutely the perfect ring, interesting and one of a kind. The designer of both pieces, the wife of the young Turk who was behind the counter, was there to ooh and ahh with us over her creations. We decided we couldn't leave without these pieces and again produced credit cards... I am very pleased, however, with my purchases. In both instances, as soon as I saw them, I knew they needed to come home with me. The rug is absolutely gorgeous, and unlike any sort of rug I have ever seen in my life. It is blue, orange and yellow and will go in my bedroom. It is 4x6 and they were able to fold it up into a little attache case size for easy transport home. It was really surprising how the whole operation works, however, I shouldn't be surprised. But, the prices were excellent and really were deals I couldn't pass up.

After we collected out booty, we high tailed it back to the ship in time for our honey massages and rejuvenating facials. Wow. They basically drip honey on your back and knead it in, removing toxins along the way. I have no idea how it works, because I slept through the whole thing. It was the most relaxed I think I have ever been in my entire life! We went from the spa to the gym, then from the gym to the cabin to clean up for the afternoon's tour: Patmos. We boarded bus number 10 with our guide, Sakki, who had a perfect Australian accent. It was a little distracting, but he, too, spoke perfect English, albeit Aussie English. We went to the town of Choros to see windmills and breath taking views, the grotto when St. John the Apostle wrote the book of Revelations, and breath taking views, then to the other side of the island for, you guessed it, more breath taking views. Patmos is what you think of when you think of Greek island: white stucco homes, rocky hillsides, bright blue cloudless skies. It was without a doubt some of the most picturesque photos I have ever taken

We came back into the port for an aperitif and then headed back to the ship, tired and feeling like we had accomplished so much: up early, tours, retail, exercise, relax... it was a day with EVERYTHING!

After cleaning up just a bit, we headed up the stairs for dinner from the buffet. After dinner, we went to the Rendez-Vous Lounge for some hits from our favorite Filipino singing couple. Tonight, we had a new entry into the repertoire: an ABBA MEDLEY!!! We also had "We are the World..." I cannot comment on that choice without appearing elitist, so I will just say that I sang along, wishing I had a cigarette lighter to send up...
But, in the end, I was so excited to hear the hits, especially some oldies but goodies! By 10PM, the banana latte was clearly NOT keeping my eyes open, so I made the decision to head to the cabin and type the blog. Even as I am typing this, drunk 16 year olds are making their way, noisily down the hall to their rooms. Maureen poked her head out and decided that they were going to their rooms, waaaaaay down the hall, so didn't scold them... yet. We are hoping to get a nice quiet night's sleep so we can get up early and get the gym out of the way. Our tours of Rhodes and Lindos have been cancelled on account of planned strikes. I guess that is how it goes in Greece. I suppose I would have been disappointed if there hadn't been any striking.

We are planning a full morning on board of exercise and yoga. Then we are going out on our own to walk around Rhodes. Wish us luck that we make it back for the 'all aboard!' We are having a great time and today both admitted that we were getting used to the idea of cruising and that we would both do another cruise again. I think that now that we know how the whole process works, and that we know what to expect, the set backs and disappointments are less devastating.

I leave you with this: "It's true we make a brighter day, just you and me..." Hearing the chanteuse sing these words tonight made me reflect on the veracity of those words. We need to make our own destiny and stop being victims... when we decided just to roll with it, baby, our entire attitude changed. This has been a great vacation so far. Hope yours is equally peaceful!

Yummy Kool-Aid

2 April 2012

My days always begin very early. By very early, I mean that I usually awaken by 3:45AM. Being on vacation is typically no exception. This morning, however, I slept in a little. I stirred at about 5:30. I looked out the window and saw the most glorious thing: a bright orange disk on the horizon illuminating and reflecting all things around it. I thought to myself, "Golly. That is the most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen... I really am very lucky...." I stayed in bed another few minutes, wanting to savor this beautiful sunrise. After about five minutes, I decided to get up and grab my camera and take a photo of this miracle of nature. But, as I got closer to the window, I realized that the orange disk on the horizon was not the sun. It was a street lamp attached to the embarkation terminal of the port at Piraeus. I felt like a complete dumbass... Why am I sharing my "duh" moment with you on this blog? Well, even though the the miracle was not really a miracle at all, it still made me remember I am very lucky to be on this trip. It may not be what I thought it would be, but it was something totally worthwhile and I needed to suck it up and acknowledge that.

So, today we had an epiphany. When we came back from breakfast first thing (it was first thing because we had an announcement on the PA that said that breakfast was from 6-7:15 and we jumped up in a panic lest we miss...) I looked at Maureen and said, "Listen, I think we (and by we I mean me) I think we have been a little bratty about this cruise. I mean, we are on a ship in the Greek islands. We should try and make the most of it." Maureen replied, "Yeah. You are probably right... we just need to drink the kool-aid and be done with it.." So, that's what we did. Today, we drank the kool-aid.

After breakfast and our workout in the gym, We got a latte in the Riveria Lounge, (think LIDO Deck of the Love Boat, where Isaac mixed up yummy cocktails for Charro and where Kristy MacNichol and Scott Baio frolicked in the pool....) and pulled out a copy of the cruise news in order to look over all the days events. "9AM-Noon Spa orientation; 1:30 Friends of Bill W. (AA); 3:00 Greek lesson; 3:30 Greek Dance Class; 4:00 Yoga; 5:00 Greek Mythology Trivia Quiz; 6:00, Mykonos; 7:30 Dinner..." So much to choose from, I am not even going into the origami, teen get-together (more on that to follow), scavenger hunts and walk-a-thons...

"God, this cruise is so Kellerman's!" (A prize to the person who can name the reference...) "Let's choose what we are going to do today. I vote for a spa orientation and let's book some treatments... then maybe the Greek lesson, yoga, the trivia quiz..." So, we did. We booked in to the spa, one treatment today, two for tomorrow. At 10:30, we had to participate in the life boat drill. The "emergency siren" blasted at 10:30 AM and we headed up one deck to the back of the ship wearing our orange life vests. For future reference, we have been assigned to boat #9. When we finished there, we had our treatment, a lipoactive massage which was meant to massage away cellulite. Not sure whether it works, but by virtue of it being European, it has a lot more credibility that what you get at the Red Door.

After the spa, it was time for lunch. There are several different dining options on this cruise. You may eat by the pool from a pasta and pizza buffet. Or, you may eat off of one of two cafeteria style buffets consisting of hamburgers and hotdogs. There is one buffet which is what I would deem healthy, adult food. Mthis is where Maureen and I have been eating. When we got to the buffet of healthy options, we were turned away: "no seats, go to another buffet.". We asked if the food was the same on the other lines, as we hadn't seen the others. "Oh, yes. The same.". So,mew headed across the way to option number 2. It was the most revolting looking crap I had ever seen. Kid friendly food. We went BACK to the original line. After standing for just a few moments, we were permitted entry. Thank God for it. We had a lovely meal of spiced lamb meatballs, peas and cauliflower and salad. All very nicely prepared. On our way out, I said to the man at the door who originally told us all the lines were the same, "just so you know: the lines are not all 'same!'". The S.O.B. wanted to argue with me! "Yes, they are all same!" "Are not!" "Are too!". The conversation had officially degenerated into a playground squabble. We walked away and went to the 'Welcome Aboard' orientation since we has missed the one the day before.

Later, Maureen did the Greek lesson, we did the trivia quiz (I got 11/15, beaten by a table of high school kids by one point...) and then we went in to Mykonos.

Mykonos is an island that appears to be largely abandoned by any sort of productive trade. Instead, it seems to depend soley on tourists for its revenue. I said to Maureen that I thought there must be a real love-hate relationship between the indiginous people and the American tourists. "I'll bet they see that cruise ship coming across the horizon and the entire town heaves a collective 'oh, shiiiiiit...'" Maureen agreed, saying, "I'll bet it is like Fantasy Island: the mayor comes out and announces, 'Smiles, everyone, smiles' and the town idiot comes running out shouting 'da sheeep, da sheeeeep!" And, sure enough, it was just as we expected: street after street of tatty crap being sold to the highest bidder. Not quite as bad as San Marino, but close. It was picturesque, to be sure. However, there were TONS of storefronts and houses that were boarded up, and not just for the season, I fear. We walked every inch of the town, snapped some pics and then headed back to the ship.

Once we were scanned back onto the boat, we went to our cabin, which I haven't described heretofor. So: this is where we are staying: cabin 4226 is a spacious room with two twin beds, an oversized love seat and a refrigerator. There is a 36 inch flat screen and plenty of closet space. The bathroom is the only negative about the cabin: there is no real hot water, and the bathroom floods when you take a shower since it has no pan. Just a drain in the ground. There is a squeegie provided to rake the excess water to the many drains in the floor. But, I digress...

We sat and watched a few minutes of L'eredita'. When the dinner bell (figuratively) rang, we headed up to the restaurant for dinner. We were seated with a very sweet young couple staying in Athens for the semester. They are students enrolled in a bible college in Arkansas (?). We had a very nice conversation with them, nice even though the young man kept calling me 'ma'am...'
As a side note:
The cruise is inhabited by group after group of college, mostly, high school aged student tour groups. They are mostly EF, but was have on this leg some Explorica and ACIS groups. They are mostly underage barefooted kids buying alcohol at the many bars. Tonight on the phone, my dad suggested that Maureen and I should be in our element on this vacation. Maureen suggested that we had gone to the other side of he world to GET AWAY from high school aged kids. I reminded my dad of the concept of a busman's holiday. For those who don't know, or have never heard the term: a busman's holiday is when you do the same thing on your vacation as you do when you work, e.g. When a man who drives a bus for a living goes to his destination, on a bus.

Anyhow... After our dinner of Greek mezes, we retired to the Rendez-vous Lounge where we each had a pina colada and a banana mocha latte. The hits were not so widely attended, which was disappointing since last night, she had us standing in the aisles. But, if tonight was supposed to be quieter since we have to be up with the chickens, then that explains why we were two of about 6 people in the audience, I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the hits myself. We stayed through one set and then decided to call it a night.

So, the theme of today: make the most of every day. As WHAM said in their seminal hit of the early 1980's "Make the most of everyday/ don't let hard times get in your way/ give a wham, give a bam/ but don't give a damn..." Never have truer words been uttered...

Izmir

Day 2 or 3 depending on when we are starting count...

This morning, we got up at 6 and went for a run, a Starbucks and breakfast in the hotel, (btw: the breakfast was the best hotel breakfast either one of us has ever eaten. Beautiful eggs and cheeses. Even the coffee was good. The juice... Well, it can't all be perfect...) we needed the sustinence after our run. We went from the hotel up to the main drag and ran down the hill, back up the hill and to the traffic circle and back twice. On our first trip to the traffic circle, two drunk and unkempt Turks appeared in our path and started cat calling. One actually reached out and grabbed Maureen, while I was able to elude the other. Maureen threw an elbow and got away. It was a little scary. Neither one of us had ever been so aggressively "pursued" before so that was a new one for the both of us.

Nonetheless, we were feeling like we had accomplished quite a bit by the time we made it to the airport at 11:00 for what we were told was a 1:00 flight. We had another Starbucks, ate some nuts, listened to a bunch of American school kids sing while they were waiting for THEIR flight... We did this until 1. At 1, we queued up to board the flight. We were on by 1:15. It was only then that the ground crew began loading the bags. They scanned every bag before loading them on. At 2:15, we were STILL sitting on the tarmac. Our cruise ship is underway at 5:30, from Izmir. At this point, I am thinking we are NEVER going to get there. Maureen, who has typically been the optimistic one is also starting to doubt whether or not we are going to have an actual vacation that does not involve sitting in airports around the globe. As it stands, we have spent more time in airplanes/ airports since Friday at 4, than outside of them. It is Sunday. We did have a bit of excitement when we saw Hilary Clinton's big "United States of America" plane on the tarmac of the Istanbul airport. Had I known she was in town, I would have asked to hitch a ride with her... it wouldn't have hurt to ask, in any case...

In the end, the plane took off at 2:40, the same time that a baby began screaming. We listened to this new born squeal for the entirety of the 1 hour flight. I said in a rather loud voice, "If this were America, TSA would have escorted this screaming brat off long ago." Just call me a 'goodwill ambassador...'

We landed, collected our bags, which we were forced to check against our will, and exited the airport. (Did you know that you have to clear security as soon as you enter the airport in Turkey, and once you exit, you cannot re-enter, even the public spaces, without being scanned again?) There was no nice man holding a sign with our names on it. We waited and watched the clock. We had no number, no address, no instructions how to find the cruise ship. Now, it may be obvious to some, er, many of you that you just go to the port and there is the cruise ship. I am not a cruise-taker. While I might assume that the ship would be in A port, I wouldn't ever presume to know WHICH port, especially in a place where I do not speak the language. So, we waited a little longer. The ship was meant to set sail at 5:30. By 4:15, we were still weighing our options. Maureen went up to the taxi captain, who spoke very little English, and asked where the port was. He really understood nothing. At one point, a taxi, excuse me, taksi driver came up. He also spoke no English, however operating on the assumption that two Turks who speak no English make one who does, they began trying to crack the code of the two American women before them. At a certain point, the captain made a phone call and then handed me the phone. I spoke a very tentative "hello" down the receiver, to which I heard, "yes, where do you wanna go?" in very clear but heavily accented English. Thank GOD! I explained the situation. he asked if I meant to go to Izmir or Kusadasi. I said Izmir and he said, "well, then, you want to go to the port. Hand me back to my friend." In 30 seconds, we were in a cab and headed to the ship. We all agreed that the cab ride wouldn't cost more than 45 Turkish Lira, and sure enough, it came in under bid at 42.50. We got on board, into our spacious (I'm not being sarcastic, it is bigger, nicer than several of the rooms we have stayed in on our journeys...) cabin.

We have fallen into school trip, beach week on the med hell. Everywhere you look you see 16 year old scantily clad kids swilling alcohol or running down the halls of the ship. We even encountered a set of bare footed girls who wanted to use the exercise equipment in the gym today. Maureen chased them out at one point, but, like a couple of bad pennies, they were back in a few minutes, still without shoes, and testing the boundaries. We just let it go... Dr. Phil's 'would you rather be right or happy' mantra came to mind.

We ate dinner in one of the buffets tonight. Not exceptional, but passable. We are looking forward to eating one night in the 'you pay extra for actual good food' restaurant here on board, and then eating in our favorite restaurant in London on Sunday, Cecconi's. (Note to self... make a reservation for Sunday!)

After dinner, we picked up a bottle of Bailey's from the duty-free gift shop and came back to the room. We watched a little TV and had a little nip, then at 10:30, we went up to the "Metropolitan Lounge" where we were serenaded by "The Cristal Entertainment Team," which consists of, what I assume are an Asian husband-wife team, husband who plays the synth and wife who sings the hits. Sipping a pina colada (yes, insert Rupert Holmes here) and a chocolate martini, we listened until 11:30, when "Billy" came out for a sing-along of modern and traditional Greek melodies. We retired to the "Stars Lounge and Disco" and enjoyed some more hits for a few minutes when we decided enough was enough, and called it a night.

Tomorrow, we are not really sure what is going to happen... the latest edition of the "Cruise News" hasn't appeared under our door yet. But, regardless, we'll be up at 6 to hit the gym by 7 and breakfast by 8. We will be in Piraeus tomorrow, but only for a very short time. It is my understanding that there are no excursions tomorrow, so we will be on board for the duration. Not really sure how that is going to work. But, at least there is a gym with an elliptical machine and we can get our exercise in. AND, neither one of us has been seasick yet. Although, we are both wearing the little wrist bands. I am afraid to take them off, as they seem to be working. But, unless I take them off, I won't know if they work, or if I simply don't get seasick. Better to be safe than sorry!

Maureen and I are having fun, even though it sounds like we are doing a lot of complaining. It is just that it is not what we expected, However, it is ALWAYS and adventure. We hope that you are enjoying your Spring Break/ Holy Week, even if it is adventure-free!

kalispera!
(good evening in transliterated Greek)

Istanbul was Constantinople, but that's nobody's business but the Turks...

Travel Day: Day 1

Friday, 30 March 2012

Today is D-Day. The day Maureen and I had been looking forward to for months. Our Turkish adventure, which has been nothing short of marvelous (and I mean "marvelous" in the most literal sense of the word) up to now, and we haven't even left the Beltway, is about to begin.

Let me back up and tell you how this adventure came to be: My Latin teacher buddy, Liz, and her husband, Ryan, went on a Turkish/Greek cruise last year. She raved about it enough that I, too, wanted to go to Greece and Turkey for Spring break. I got her travel references and began the booking process.

I should have known that the trip would be ill-fated when the day I booked, paid, etc. was the day that the Concodia went down off the coast of Italy. I had no sooner submitted the payment when the phone rang and Donna D instructed me to turn on the TV. "Awwww... shit. The idea of a cruise is not so appealing now as it was 5 minutes ago..."

Fast forward 3 weeks: I get an email from my buddy at the cruise department of the Turkish travel agent I'd been using (as per Liz's recommendation), Güçlü YAMAN. I have no idea whether this is a man or a woman, and I have, for the first time in my life, no mental image of the person with whom I am conversing on the internet. But I digress... The latest correspondance is to communicate that the starting time, date, and location of the cruise have all been chnaged by the cruise line. Instead of leaving at 9 am on Sunday, 1 April, we will be leaving at 7:00 pm on Saturday night. This is a problem. This is a serious problem, as we are not set to arrive in Istabul, the original orgination point of the cruise, until 7:40 pm on Saturday night. I was asked if I could change my travel dates to the following week. After a mini-meltdown via email, and after I had thrown around some legal terms I learned from my YEARS of watching my judges on TV, (terms like 'material breech of contract...') the cruise company had agreed to comp us a night in a hotel in Istanbul Saturday, and pay for our airfare to Ismir, where we would meet the cruise and continue on our merry way. Until Athens, when we will have to change boats, because the cruise line had also decided to change the origination point. What a mess! But, alas, it would work out. We (well, really, just Maureen) were confident that it would be just fine.

Fast forward to Friday, 30 March, today, D-Day. Maureen started her day with a bomb threat at Annandale HS. Not the way you want to start the day you are FLYING half way around the globe, It was my turn to be optimistic: "Maureen, look at the bright side: at least you are not teaching anything today :) "

Maureen finished her day without a hitch, Donna D came to pick us up and transport us to Dulles, and we were off!

The flight between DC and London was rather uneventful except for the fact that we were travelling first class. When we booked, we wanted to use a companion ticket. The only non-black-out date that had ANY sort of availability was also a first class ticket. So, we paid for it partly in miles partly in dollars. When we checked in at Dulles, Maureen got a "Welcome, Miss Hunt, to first class!" My miles and my companion ticket got us there, and I didn't get even so much as "welcome back." Oh well. No worries, I think. We will be airborne soon enough and it won't matter one whit who got what sort of welcome. We go to the lounge and wait over a couple four glasses of pino grigio: all is right with the world... for the time being.

I did not sleep one bit, fending off leg cramps from hell. Maureen slept only a wee bit better than I did. We arrive in London, terminal 5 of Heathrow. Since we did not check our bags, we were able to de-plane and move quickly to our next destination: terminal 3. But, first, we had to take the people shifters across. We got to the bottom of the escalator, where we found a young girl barking orders: "PICK A SIDE. YOU WILL HAVE ONLY 20 SECONDS TO BOARD THE TRAIN!" I turned to Maureen and said, "Golly, I close my eyes for just a moment, and I wake up in Nazi Germany!" The train eventually comes and we head to Terminal 3, home of the 3rd world airlines. There is, however the requisite duty free shopping, Starbucks and Pret-a-Manger, which was a very good thing, since we had a 6 hour layover. I cannot remember why we didn't opt for the 11AM flight to Istanbul, other than the price may have been much higher. But, we took full advantage of the time by both getting make-up makeovers at the Bobby Brown counter in the Duty-Free. When it came time for lunch, we opted for Pret, which was a terrific choice, since all I wanted was a hard boiled egg. When I asked the young man arranging sandwiches if I could have just an egg, he went to the back and moments later appeared with an egg, peeled and in a small cup. "No charge, ma'am." Really? That was the nice surprise of the day. It is a good thing I got my egg, since the meal on the flight was a HUGE disappointment... But, I will get to that in a moment...

As we ate our respective lunches, Maureen kept watching the gate board. Our 2:00 flight had a "gate opening at 2:15" notice. Hmmm... not a good sign. Then, at 2:15, the message came up that the flight was delayed to 3:00. We went to the gate, and boarded at 3:15, departing at 4:00. The flight was missing only the chickens in coops in the last few rows. The entourage assembled was exactly what one would expect on an Eastern European flight... I will leave the description with your own imagination. I will say this: think of extreme stereotypes of everything you know about Turkey and there you have it. It was a bit of a culture shock for us. And, yes. It was a full flight, and I took one for the team and sat in the middle seat.

I had ordered special meals for the two of us at the time of booking: one fruit platter and one raw vegetable platter. I figured this would be the safest alternative, food-wise. I knew that BA would feed us well, especially in first class (we had poached lobster over asian slaw starter and hot chicken over lettuce for a main. Both absolutely amazing...). When the meal arrived, two fruit platters came, except Maureen's had a banana. They were identical. I said to the flight attendant, "Excuse me, but we had one raw vegetable plate and one fruit." To which she replied, "Yes, one fruit, (pointing to my plate which had a sticker saying 'fruit') and one raw vegetarian, (pointing to Maureen's vegetarian sticker)." I said, "excuse me, but these are the same." "No, one vegetarian, one fruit." "Noooooooo. Two fruit." "One say fruit, one say vegetarian." I was getting frustrated at this point, not having slept in what felt like DAYS! "THEY ARE IDENTICAL!" Then the flight attendant walked away. Just like that. We were left with our very sad looking fruit plates. However, I am glad I opted for the fruit as opposed to the crap they were serving to the masses. What upset me was that she was trying to convince me that the two were different when they were the SAME! Even my four old niece can tell the difference between SAME and DIFFERENT. It was a simple case of 'don't pee on my leg and tell me it's raining.'

We eventually arrived in Istanbul, de-planed, went to the visa line, paid our $20 US and got a nice sticker and stamp for our passports (Maureen and I are always disappointed when we go somewhere and don't get a memento for the passport so this made up for all the trips to Portugal without any record.)

We emerged from the arrivals hall and found a man holding a sign with our names on it. He drove us across town, through all the sites lit by urban street lights and the big bright moon to our hotel, which happens to be in the most vibrant section of town. I am grateful that we were not stuck out by the airport. We actually feel like we have been to Istanbul now, if even for just 12 hours.

We came in, decompressed for 5 minutes and then set out to explore. We ended up in a lovely bistro and had two mezzes of aubergine-yogurt and red peppers and chilis to go with our lamb entrees. So good. But, when the bill came, it was just a slip of paper with the number 80 written on it. In no position to argue, and not knowing what the conversion rate was, we slapped down a credit card, declaring that it was the best meal, no matter the price. It was only the next morning that we discovered that the conversion is $1 to 1.78 Turkish Lira. So, the meal was about 45 bucks. Totally worth it!

We headed home with full bellies and fell into our respective beds, only to be woken at 6 am by my alarm. Time to get up and embrace the day! We went for a 3 mile run in the city center here near our hotel. It felt really good to get out and moving and the weather was perfect running weather: not at all cold! After our lovely run, we found a Starbucks (another time, I will write about the idea we have to do a book about all the Starbucks around the world we have visited...) and had a latte, feeling so self-satisfied for having run and having been productive on a Sunday morning, of all days!

Now, we are waiting for the driver to take us BACK to the airport for our flight to Izmir, where we shall meet the ship. Then, the real adventure begins...

Reflecting on this first leg of our Spring Break, I cannot help but be very thankful that I have had the opportunity to take this trip. I am very aware how very blessed I am. The week prior to the trip was a very bad week. I tend to forget how lucky I am, getting bogged down by the stupid details of life, forgetting to look at the big picture. Sitting in the Starbucks this morning, in FREAKING ISTANBUL, having run, having lost 143 pounds in the last 16 months, I had this overwhelming feeling of happiness. My life if very full and I am lucky to have such good friends and close family with whom I may share my life. A great way to start Holy Week, indeed.