Gaudi Ain't Called Gaudy for Nothing

Wednesday, 14 March 2012 - Boulder, Colorado, USA

Barcelona

The ship arrived Monday morning at Barcelona, the last stop of our 39 day cruise. As usual, Barbara and I were the first off the ship to take our own walking tour of one of the most interesting cities in the world, if by interesting you mean architecturally and by the reputation it has for pickpockets and muggings. The former is well earned, the latter is ridiculous. But the ship's destination lecturer--the Professor of GIS who had studied geology, according to his CV--thought that talking about how people can be mugged in Barcelona would enhance the guests' experience. Therefore, Barbara and I were the only guests who started on an early ambulation of this wonderful city. (The others who didn't purchase one of the ship's tours opted for the red "hop-on/hop-off" bus which was charging 35 euros per person to show what traffic jams look like up close)

With map in hand, we headed from the port to the Columbus statue. Barcelonians (?) claim a connection to Columbus, but the statue has the famous explorer/plunderer/poor or great navigator pointing at Algeria. We rambled up the entire length of the very long Ramblas pedestrian street and made our way to some of the most famous and interesting buildings. First two pseudo-nouveau (or is it post-modern pseudo?) buildings, one decorated in an umbrella motif which was curious since it hasn't rained in Southern Spain in quite a while. (The weather forecast on TV discussed that the seacoast was dry as the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plateau, or something like that). Then the famous kind of blue Casa Batllo, perhaps Antonio Gaudi at his most restrained, so to speak. Then further to the Casa Mila, perhaps Gaudi at his most, uh, melted, and then finally at the La Sagrada Familia. This is Gaudi's most famous work, a really big church that still isn't finish and the one where he was living in the construction debris when at 120 years old (something like that) he wondered away and was killed by a trolley car. But that was some time ago.

We returned to the ship to pack as we were set for a 5 am transfer Tuesday morning to the Barcelona Airport and the quick as a fox flights via Frankfurt to Denver. We arrived home at 5:45 pm and are walking into walls.


A Video of Our Accommodations On-Board Silver Wind

I've just posted to Facebook a video of our suite on Silver Wind and a look at the sights and sounds 500 miles out to sea between Namibia and Ghana as we approached the Equator.

https://www.facebook.com/video/video.php?v=3024303005398&notif_t=video_processed

More in a few days when the jet lag has subsided. Thanks for following along so far.

Soller Train Trip!

Sunday, 11 March 2012 - Palma de Mallorca, Spain

The tours offered by the ship have names for example like, "A Stroll in Dalt Vila" or "Biking on Formentera", meaning a ridiculously easy walking tour or a ridiculously easy guided bicycle tour, respectively. When the tour operator doesn't know what to say about an overpriced all day visit to a nearby city (with a very expensive lunch included), they just put an explanation mark at the end of the name of the city, for example, "Seville!". This is a put off for me since I think of real estate agents who advertise houses with small bathrooms and peeling paint with descriptions like, "Views!". To me except for the International standard symbol for "Warning" which is "!", I would like to reserve the exclamation mark only for something that is so good that you don't want to try to add anything better than the name. In other words, I'd not use the exclamation mark for most, even pretty good, tours.

Majorca is a vacation island well known to everyone and pretentiously bragged about by those Europeans on the ship who "have a place in Majorca". The ship spells the Balearic Islands' biggest island with the double "L". So I am using both spellings to show my je ne sais quoi. But I digress.

I've been to, Palma, the major (mallor?) city on the island twice before as port calls. The first time in early 2002 I took an all day tour, oddly enough called, "Valdemossa and Chopin". It was a long full day tour I remember with a short train ride in the rain, a visit to a monastery (which I don't recall), and a long visit to a house in a beautiful village where a 21 year old Chopin was the boy-toy of a middle aged woman oddly enough going under the name of George.

The second visit was limited to a very rainy Palma where I met a couple who couldn't tell me the name of the Crystal Cruises ship they were traveling on. This is reported on in a blog from a few years ago.

This port call to Palma was very different. Barbara, I, and friend Bruce ventured out at 8 am and took a taxi to the very historic Stoller train station. This train—the one I must have ridden in the fog years ago—has been operating daily without interruption since 1912. We found the schedules we had obtained earlier to be wrong (as usual, hey it was on the Internet), but there was a departure and return journey that would allow for us to take the train both ways in spectacularly sunny weather and even catch the continuation of the rail line all the way to the sea via an equally beautiful tram train. The trolley must be older than the town of Soller since it goes right through the middle of the equally beautiful sideway cafes. We were successful in all counts, including having a nice lunch only interrupted by an occasional trolley car, finding the first class parlor car on the train was available without surcharge, and returned to the ship via a nice walk through the sleepy town of Palma since it was both Sunday and siesta time, two things taken very seriously in Spain.

So today's self made tour was Soller Train Trip!

Tomorrow, will be on our own in Barcelona. Will report when I'm back in Boulder.

An Other Balearic Island Fortunately Out of Season

Saturday, 10 March 2012 - Ibiza, Balearic Islands, Spain

Everyone has heard of Mallorca (Majorca), the major island (get it?) of the Balearic Islands in the Mediterranean Sea. Ibiza is not that island, but everyone in Europe knows about this one. We were told that "foam discos" were invented here and that the constant partying in the summer doesn't even begin until 2 am. Catalan is spoken but not by me. So, you'd might think that this would be a good place for an "in port sea day". Instead it was one of the nicest days on the voyage.

We watched the cathedral atop the walled Old City appear under the setting gibbous moon. As the little Silver Wind was almost as big as the hill the town is built on, we also watched a woman do her morning exercises and a peeping Tom watching her. It was fantastic to sail right into the downtown area, but the ominous construction out of town of what appears to be another cruise pier complex will destroy this port like so many others. The "Dalt Vila" within the wall is a Spanish National Monument because it is the only remaining walled, cathedral topped, medieval city with foam discos in Europe--if I got the Fodor's Guide's description correct. We bolted off the ship as soon the authorities--a small dog held by a policeman--cleared the ship and followed a stone faced local's direction to the top of the hill. The Old Town must be so old as to be deceased as it was very, very quiet. What fun! We took lots of pictures, found that most the town outside the wall had free WiFi with various speeds of Internet access and then walked outside the walled city to watch lots of sleepy European tourists clean the foam out of their discos at the wide boulevard cafes. We had a beer at the cafe with the best Internet speeds and returned to the ship after a lovely day in this sleepy town when the foamers are not active. 

Tomorrow we will join the Majors at Majorca and try to take the vintage train. Since it has been operating daily without interruption since 1917, this is a chance it won't be cancelled. 

Silver Wind in Ibiza, Balearic Islands, Spain live via nearby free port WiFi

Comments from friends on blog entry re Cadiz port call

SPANISH USAGE OF DOUBLE LETTER TITLES

Dear Michael:  The Spaniards and some Latin Americans use the double letter when they mean a plural.  Thus, Relaciones Publicas, I suspect they do it to indicate a higher status on a particular job. Something in plurals is more also important.  I also suspect that if they were to write Ps Rs  it would mean something else in their culture.

In Latin America should you mail an envelope to the U.S.but  instead of writing U.S.A,  you write EEUU, it means "Estados Unidos" de la America. I occasional receive letters from Brazil with the "Boulder - EEUU" destination on the envelope.

 

Best,  Marc

 

BODEGA VISIT

Dear Mike,

I'm delighted to have had you as a neighbour today!  (I live in the Province of Cadiz.)  I'm also very pleased that the bodega you happened upon was Lustau.  It isn't the biggest company – no, they don't make Harveys but they did buy part of Harveys cellars –  but for my money they make the best sherries in town, i.e. Jerez.   You did right to pay the small charge for their "premium" grade sherries, which are superb (I have some here at home).  Did they offer you any of their "brandy de Jerez"?  The generic Spanish word is "coñác" but they aren't allowed to call it that; I consider it (especially some like the Lustau super-premiums) superior to cognac, especially on a price basis.  For example, a Remy Martin XO costs well over €100, but the Lustau 1940 Señor Lustau costs about €38, and it's wonderful.

Cadiz itself, at least the old part at the end of the peninsular, as an interesting and entertaining city: some great restaurants and wonderful architecture.  I'm glad you enjoyed your day.

Warm regards to you and Barbara,

Filipe 

There Must Be a Malaga Somewhere Here

Thursday, 8 March 2012 - Malaga, Spain

 

I visited Malaga on two cruises in the early 2000s. Both times the gateway city to the Costa del Sol was a bit dowdy but very charming. Charming because of the very impressive cathedral, the warren of little streets with authentic Spanish tapas joints, big boulevards along the waterfront, and especially for the seaside hill with a Roman theater at the base, an old fort on its side, and a lovely park on the top. The little cruise pier was at the base of the main street so you could walk off the ship and be right in the heart of the city immediately. OK, the portside park was kind of dirty, the streets were poorly maintained, and the residents of the town looked like they lived in a gateway rather than a destination.

 

Today we docked pre-dawn at the brand new cruise pier which is at the end of the brand new cement causeway which juts out from the band new cruise shopping mall complete with brand new artificial restaurants with names like, "Los Amigos", and brand new jewelry/diamond stores. In other words, it looks like any other cruise port in the world. Oh, and did I mention the huge, uh, brand new cruise terminal building with a bevy of security guards complete with x-ray machines, magnetometers, but oddly enough no ID check of any kind. The cruise port theater has come to lovely Malaga.

 

I came up to breakfast to bid Barbara a fond farewell for her 8:15 am departure for her all day tour to Granada and the "once in a lifetime" thrill of seeing The Alhambra. Since my ticket had been punched with that one in 2003 I took the long shuttle bus ride to where the ship used to berth downtown and wondered for 3 or 4 miles. The city, by the way, when you finally find it from the new cruise ship berths is now absolutely lovely. The profligate Spanish government has spent lavishly on restoring Malaga to a worthy destination in itself. The seaside park has been spectacularly restored, the streets and boulevards are clean and busy with happy looking locals, and school kids all tied together (as well they should be) are led up and down the streets to the delight of the few cruise ship passengers who actually make it to downtown Malaga.

 

After lunch I will take a 4 hour tour to the "white town" of Mijas up at the dizzying height of 1280 feet MSL. Barbara and I will reunite this evening after being separate for the first time since she took an all day tour of Jerusalem and I a half day tour of Tel Aviv. I am planning a celebration dinner for her Tennessee house no longer being her Tennessee house. Now we can afford gas for my 1994 Corolla and maybe another cruise (or three).

 

Mijas

 

As Barbara was immersed in Moorish excellence, I took the half day trip to "The Village of Mijas." It turned out to be one of those towns that look best when you're far from it. When you're close in, it looks like every other tourist trap. You can buy Chinese made back scratchers, pictures of Picasso (hey, it's his home area), and take donkey or horse cart rides. Although frequently washed and presumably Simonized, the horses and donkeys were as bored as I was when the very burnt out guide (who seemed to be wearing a equally very long dead animal around her neck) announced that we would have 2 ½ hours to "get to know the town". I took a long walk with a like minded fellow guest, and then we joined her husband for a beer which we stretched out until the time was over.

 

Mijas is actually very pretty, the church built into the rocks kind of spooky, and the views are knockouts. Rate the bus ride from Malaga an "B+", the views from the town an "A", and the guide a "D" which changed to an "F" when she suggested that we "know how to appreciate" her if we enjoyed her narration. From what I could tell, no on her bus knew how.

With a “TH” At the End of Everything

Wednesday, 7 March 2012 – Cadiz, Spain

Cadiz and Jerez

After 30-something days, we finally arrived in mainland Europe. Seems like Cape Town is far away.  (I think there's a reason for feeling that way. I will have to study that further.)We docked pre-dawn at the Atlantic city of Cadiz (pronounced something like "ca-deeth"  by the locals, but they make everything sound like it ends in "th"). As the cruise pier is in the center of downtown—well, on the water actually—we walked the few minutes into the main part of this narrow island/peninsular and followed the correct color lineas along a number of self guided walking tours from the brochure given to us by the friendly (but typically businesslike) local tourist bureau lady.

Cadiz is a city of narrow streets, some of which must be very quiet despite the rowdy bars on them, and of course even this small city has the requisite cathedral. This one has a very nifty crypt with a portrait of Mr. Burns in it for some reason. We walked for a couple of hours, mostly in ever bigger circles.

Although our original plan was to come back to the ship for a rest and venture out after lunch to the nearby fort –there's always a nearby fort to take pictures of the ship down a cannon, a tradition observed only by the more sophisticated travelers—we chanced by the "renfe" station.  (Right, "chanced", like some guys just happen to chance by a dirty bookstore.) What a surprise, there was direct modern EU paid for train service to Jerez (pronounced locally perhaps as "hair-eth" but definitely not as the beleaguered city in Mexico since I was quoted 2400 euros when I asked for a return ticket to there. The actual cost to Jerez was about  5 euro round-trip.) And what a surprise that this nearby railway station had ½ hourly departures for the 45 minute ride, just like the printout I had brought from home said. We never did figure out how to pronounce renfe. It probably ends with a "th" sound, at least in Andalusia.

We wondered into the center of Jerez from the ok looking station there ("OK", like Picasso had showed promise) and walked another 3 miles or so up and down Jerez' narrow streets until we encountered a Bodega, which in Jerez means a place where they make sherry. Oh boy, what sherry. Since it was siesta time and no one was around, we got a tour of the Lustau bodega by the manager of the "Dept. RR. PP." according to her business card. Wow, I never met a RR. PP. person before.

Although Lustau appears (from a 20 foot high sign on the far end of their huge building) to make the popular Harvey's Bristol Cream, their real premium sherries are fantastic. The 10 euro tasting fee was more than well worth it as we tasted five of their best 40 proof products, and the folks on the train back much enjoyed my singing and dancing.

We got back to the ship in time for tea found that this evening's early show has been cancelled for curious reasons.

On past the Rock of Gibraltar during the night and into the Mediterranean.

I Was Shocked, Shocked

Tuesday, 26 March 2012 – Casablanca, Morocco

There sure wasn't gambling going on in Casablanca when I was there twice in the early 2000s. The port city, not the actually setting or filming location of the classic film, was dirty and the inhabitants appeared to consist entirely of unemployed very grumpy young men. However, since the king has instituted a number of West-loving reforms, it appears that the place has gotten a, uh, white wash. It is now a pretty desirable looking North African city! There are rich neighborhoods along the rebuilt Corniche, billboards selling products from home, apparently, and traffic jams that rival Paris.

Actually parts of Casablanca really do resemble Paris as does the street layout in the old colonial section. What doesn't, of course, is the street markets and the New Medina (new is relative here), the Habous (or Jewish) Quarter with its arch covered streets and shady looking pedestrians. Although Paris has a couple of nice big things it in, what Casablanca has is a big mosque, a really big mosque.

The Hassan II Mosque is the second largest one there is. The biggest is in Saudi Arabia in the city of Medina which is harem to infidels. So we had to settle with seeing this one here. The Mosque holds 100,000 folks during the Friday prayer days, and the 210 foot high square minaret is the biggest one of any geometric cross-section, round or square, in the world. We walked bare footed about 2 miles within the building after about that distance with shoes from the nearest place where we could get a picture of us and the entire minaret together. We marveled at the basement of the mosque's huge sink array for the faithfuls' ablutions before prayer.

We concluded our 4.5 hour tour when guide Achmed, a spry elderly gentleman who said we should call him "Scotty", changed to Obi Won Kanobi  and mysteriously disappeared about saying something about some force. We concluded the day by sailing out to a fantastic sunset.