Funchal, Madeira, Portugal

The “lost continent” of Atlantis? Some think this island, 700 miles from Portugal in the Atlantic, might be just that. We board the tour bus and in 50 minutes we’ve climbed 6000 feet up steep narrow curving roads through charming villages to the top of the mountain. On the north side of the island we look down over the cloud covered ravines and the jagged peaks. To the south we can see all the way to the Funchal Harbor where our tiny ship is docked. A Peruvian musician plays the pan flute. The air is chill and the wind fierce, and the landscape reminds me of photos of Machu Picchu.
On our way down we stop for tea and cakes in a small hotel and then in town we sample the local Madeira blends at a wine lodge. After the tour, Richard and I catch the shuttle into town and walk the streets. The black and white mosaic sidewalks, old decorated buildings, abundant flowers, aquamarine sea, and interesting looking people provide a sightseer’s delight as we sit at a café sipping drinks provided by the Euros so generously given to us by Troupe Ala Nar. Obrigada ladies(thanks in Portuguese). Back to the ship we’re off across the Atlantic Ocean for five days at sea. Next stop Bermuda.

Lisbon, Portugal

So, our last stop in mainland Europe. I rush upstairs to see the sail-in and skid to a stop. We’re just about to pass under the Golden Gate Bridge. Am I dreaming? Then I see the buildings on shore and recognize them from my last visit to Lisbon. Later, I find out that the bridge here was designed by the same man who designed our bridge in San Francisco. Today’s tour takes us for a panoramic drive through sections of Lisbon and then out to a small resort town, Estoril. This whole area is just beautiful. I’ve run out of superlatives. You just have to come and see for yourself.

The Rock of Gibraltar

Yes, you know Gibraltar. If you’ve seen the Prudential commercial, I t’s really there—a giant rock. I look up from the deck as we dock and feel a bit trepidatious at the angle of the arial cable car. I’m escorting a tour and our first stop is to see the view from the top and visit the Barbary Apes. A short ride through town, then twenty of us squeeze into the gondola and up we go. It’s breathtaking, and I love to watch the city below get smaller and smaller—I feel like Alice in Wonderland. When we alight we’re greeted by the cutest monkeys, perched here and there, with not a thought of the perilous drops on the other side of the railings. We’ve been told not to feed them or reach out to touch them; they are wild animals and roam free. They are tailless because they live above tree level and don’t need them to swing from branch to branch, but they give us a show with their amazing jumping ability and zany antics. I lean near to have my photo taken with one of them. He reaches out and takes hold of my jacket collar. I gently take his little hand and he lets go. We go on our way to see several man-made sites, but they can’t compare with being touched by the nature.

Valletta, Malta

After our quick split from the turbulent waters of Split, we’re on our way to Malta. With the extra day, we were to have a leisurely sail down the Adriatic, but this morning the captain comes on the PA system to say we have a medical emergency and are moving full out and will get in at five tonight. All are on deck as we pull into the beautiful golden limestone colored port.
The gangway is lowered, the officials rush onboard to clear the ship, the ambulance speeds up to the gangway. We all wait to see who will be brought off on a stretcher. A woman, with a leopard skin hat pulled down over her ears, lies perfectly still under a stark white sheet. Her eyes are closed. They load her into the back of the ambulance. I can only see the bottom part of her body. I can’t see if she’s breathing. Her feet are uncovered. I see her toes move. I will the ambulance attendant to cover her feet. I still always need my feet covered in bed—a holdover from when I was a child and thought that snakes lived under the bed and would slither up and bite my toes if they were exposed. He covers her toes. I’m thinking how frightening to be alone and to be taken off the ship by strangers in a foreign country. Then a man, most likely her husband, comes off the ship and climbs into the ambulance. How lucky for her to have someone who cares. How sad and scary for him to see his love so still and vulnerable.
We take advantage of this extra evening in Malta. We stroll under the arch at the entrance to the walled city and walk the streets. Everything looks so much more interesting and beautiful when I think of the woman struggling for her life and realize that ‘there but for the grace of God go I’. If I knew this was my last day on this beautiful earth, I’d stay totally awake, not wanting to miss a thing. I’d be grateful for my blessings. I don’t want to fall asleep and miss the moment.

Split, Croatia

I pop out of bed and hurry to the Promenade deck to watch our sail-in to Split. I’m eager to see the area I’ll soon be exploring. I’ll be escorting a tour going up a mountain road to the small town of Omis, located on the estuary of the Cetina River. We’ll be boarding a riverboat to sail down the river, stopping for a stroll through the forest and then further on to a restaurant for a lunchtime snack.
The wind is so strong, I can barely push the door open. The waves are choppy with whitecaps. We will be dropping anchor and tendering in, which will be difficult in this weather condition. I go to the Queen’s lounge and wait to be called for our tour. The captain comes on the PA system to tell us that we’re not going ashore, as it is too dangerous. We are pulling up anchor and leaving. So instead of a great day on the river, we split Split. Bummer!

Lost in Venice

Up early this morning I go with Richard as he escorts a motor launch excursion around the perimeter of the larger islands surrounding the Venice Lagoon. Then we’re off again, on foot, to unexplored areas of Venice. They say the best way to see the city is to start walking and get lost. And we do. My usually unfailing sense of direction is no match for the twists and turns of this maze. We have no idea where we are but who cares. Everywhere we turn is more interesting than the last; every square inch of Venice is decorated and embellished, even the doorbells. At 5PM we sail out past the Grand Canal, through the lagoon, into the open sea. We’re on our way to Split, Croatia.

Ah Venice!

Istanbul, Santorini, and now Venice. We’re having a run on some of the most awesome sites in the world. These are places that I won’t even presume to describe, as even the great writers can’t come close to capturing their beauty.
So, I’ll just tell you about our activities. Sailing in this morning is enough visual stimulation to last a long time. We dock, and Richard and I decide to explore on our own. We walk non-stop for 5 hours up, down, and all around the labyrinth of alleys and open squares. Over bridges crossing canals and down the crowded waterfront, we stroll. We eat lunch at an outside café at San Marco’s square and goggle at the international tourists as they goggle at the sites. We lick our chocolate and mint chip gelato cones and watch the children laugh as the pigeons land on their outstretched arms. This evening we float down the canal in a gondola as an accordionist plays favorite Italian songs. An older gentleman stands in the front of the boat singing at the top of his lungs, almost falling out when the gondolier navigates a sharp turn between two closely placed buildings. Ah Venice!