Arriving Home

May 29, 2012

It looked the same. I’m not sure what I was expecting but the house and yard looked essentially the same as when I saw it last. There were a few differences, of course, brought about by the change of seasons. The lawn was green and the trees had leaves that weren’t there in January but other than that things looked essentially the same. Being gone and living a fundamentally different life for almost five months, though, made me believe that things would have looked more different than they did.

But things felt differently. First, everything felt ‘too big.’ When you have lived on a ship for any period of time, where space is a commodity, you become comfortable with tight quarters and lots and lots of people. Frankly, everything in my house now seemed supersized, and with only three people living in it for the summer I was shocked by home many times I had large amounts of space to myself. My routine was also completely different and I tried to remember the rhythms of home life. Most of them felt comforting and welcoming, but they did require a conscious adjustment. Where others go on vacation so that they don’t have to make their bed, clean their house, or cook their own food, my vacations returned me to that responsibility. Also, my ‘community’ had changed to a much smaller and intimate one, requiring me to act with greater awareness and concern for the specific needs of two other individuals but able to give less consideration to the next 1200 people I met.

My actions and behavior had fallen into patterns that were tied to ship life. The simple act of greeting everyone I encountered with more formal greetings than a Coloradan would normally do was now ingrained ritual and would take some time to unravel. The phrases and words that were effective shorthand on a ship were sources of amusement to those on shore.

The bigger change was probably my simple state of mind. When I left in January I brought the stress of having not had secured income for several months and being unsure of what path might be unraveling in front of me. Now I brought with me the comfort of a job well done and the opportunity to do that or a similar job for many years to come. At the same time, I faced the question of wondering how long I would feel comfortable living on a ship. There are many, many perks to living on a ship. But it comes with a high cost as well, the cost of being separated from those with whom you have built a life for many years. Fortunately, in the 21^st Century one can reach out to people daily and ‘converse’ via email, Facebook, phone or even Skype. As a result, working on a cruise ship is mostly a young person’s game. I am the aberration, perhaps a fool on a fool’s errand. There are brief moments when I wonder why I would ever go back. There are other moments when I contemplate what difference I can make here and where the path might lead.

And so, for now . . .

. . . the adventure WILL continue . . .

A Night in Bucharest

May 28, 2012

There was to be no ‘rest’ in Bucharest. We completed the first leg of our journey and needed to book the next three for Rosie before we left there. My itinerary had me going from Bucharest to Frankfurt, Germany, then to Seattle, WA, and finally to Denver. To make this escapade even more fun I had awaken from my nap on the plane with the first symptoms of a head cold. After a virtually illness free contract my return to ‘real life’ would be in the grips of a virus. We now had a five hour layover until a 6am flight to Frankfurt and needed to ensure Rosie could match up my flights as best as possible. But not knowing the airport we weren’t sure what our communication options would be to make these plans.

Who knew that of all the airports to end up in we would be at one with a cafeteria opened all night that had excellent free WiFi connectivity! After buying a couple of cups of coffee we sat at a table in the corner feverishly working out the details. Ultimately we got Rosie onto the flight from Bucharest to Frankfurt, a different but essentially parallel flight to Seattle, and the same leg on the final part of the journey. We also spent time talking to the young adults working the restaurant in the middle of the night which reaffirmed the similarity of people’s hopes, fears, and dreams all over the world. This unexpectedly positive time energized us to embrace the rest of our journey.

The flights from that point on went off without a hitch. The oddest part was heading our separate ways at the Frankfurt airport but knowing that we would connect again soon after we each landed in Seattle. The itinerary, by opportunity and intent would give us an overnight in Seattle which allowed us to meet my sister, Sue, and her daughter, Suzy, for dinner as they both live in Washington. It was an excellent benefit of this rather circuitous routing. After a good night’s sleep in Seattle the final flight to Denver seemed almost anti-climactic. When we arrived in Denver, our good friend, Pat was waiting at the airport to drive us back down to the Springs. After almost five months away from home the mountains of Colorado looked both foreign and familiar. I knew that yet another adjustment was ahead of me.

And the adventure continues . . .

Leaving Rome Into the Unknown

May 27, 2012

We awoke on our last morning in Rome realizing we wanted to spend far more time here. However, we accepted the blessing of our short visit and simply knew we had to return. The last morning began with an attempt to experience a Papal Mass at St. Peter’s. However, the time posted the previous evening and the actual time the mass began was off by an hour. So instead of being 45 minutes early to get into line, we reached the Square seeing that the mass was already underway and the Basilica was closed to further entrants. Knowing we still wanted to get to mass we remembered that the Chapel of St. Monica was right off the main plaza. We entered during the opening rite and joined a simple parish mass only steps from the pomp and ceremony of the Basilica. Without question, this fit us better. Even though the mass was completely in Italian, the rhythms of the Catholic mass are so familiar to us that the language barrier proved no problem at all.

After a quick breakfast at the hotel we jumped onto the bus and got off at the Italian capitol building. We joyfully wandered down major boulevards and hidden alleys. We discovered the Pantheon quite by accident after having lunch at a café down at back alley. We ambled onward to the Piaza di Navonne which was an unexpected surprise. Eventually we made it to the Trevi Fountain for the mandatory picture and coin toss for good luck. There was so much to see and far too soon we needed to race back to the hotel to grab our bags and head to the airport. A taxi was called and we knew we would soon be winging our way back home. Or so we thought . . . .

The first problem was with the taxi driver who spoke no or little English. I handed him my itinerary and pointed to the name of the Roman airport. He nodded and quickly drove us to . . . the train station! By the time we corrected this misdirection we were now within an hour and a half of flight time when we reached the airport. We soon discovered the second problem.

My ticket had been canceled! No one can tell me why but while Rosie’s reservation was clearly in place mine showed that it had existed but had been canceled. When I ask who had done such a thing no one could explain it to me. I called our corporate travel assistance phone number and was immediately put on hold . . . for 20 minutes. As the time for departure was drawing closer I grabbed Rosie’s phone and called the number again. I re-explained the problem and was put on hold, again. By the time the phone call was picked up they had closed the flight we were intending to board. As a result, Rosie’s ticket was now cancelled and would need to be rebooked, and paid for again! To say I was furious was an understatement. Eventually, our corporate travel made new arrangements for me but now I had to book new tickets for Rosie, which would ultimately cost over $2000 to get home. Finally, we got her booked onto the first leg of the journey, a flight from Rome to Bucharest, and would only have time to book each segment after we completed the first part of our journey. Vacation was now starting to be more stressful than work.

And the adventure continues . . .

Mini-Vacation in Rome

May 26, 2012

When we awoke on our drive from the ship it felt like we had fallen down the rabbit’s hole in Alice in Wonderland. The car hit a bump and jolted me awake and the first sight to fill my eyes was the wall of Vatican City. During our 40 minute nap we had traversed the distance between Civitavecchia and Rome and were only minutes away from our hotel. But to transition from the view of ship and docks to the walls of this city-state in the midst of Rome was startling. In front of us lay the Tiber (Tevere) River, and less than a half a dozen blocks later we had turned up a small alley to find our hotel. The sign directed us down an even smaller alley to find Hotel La Rovere, but it was too small for our car to fit. So we bid our driver adieu and dragged our bags around the corner into this new adventure, a veritable wonderland. The hotel itself was charming and the proprietors spoke just enough English to make communication possible. This hotel had been recommended by my friend, Giorgia, was definitely off the beaten path and not part of a typical American hotel chain. Our room was a corner room on the fourth floor and the views were inspiring. On one side we looked out over the Tiber and the rooftops of Rome in front of us, with at least two churches neatly framed nearby. Out the other window was a small courtyard shared by the apartment buildings around us. Although there was no air conditioning, the cross breeze from opening the windows was marvelous although we sometimes wondered from our vantage point if we might end up with a bird as a houseguest.

As much as we enjoyed the room, we wanted to explore, and we ventured off back in the direction of the Vatican. In seven minutes we were standing in St. Peter’s Square. It was late afternoon on a Friday and the famous landmark was blessedly empty. We hoped to visit the Basilica, but Rosie’s skirt was just above her knees which barred access to the church. Saving that experience for another day, we sat and people-watched in the square for a bit and then found a nearby café for dinner. We continued our pattern of only eating al fresco and watched the flow of clergy and sisters pass to and fro not unexpected with our proximity to St. Peter’s.

The next day we dove more deeply into sightseeing. The hotel provided a wonderful complementary breakfast and properly fortified we headed back to St. Peter’s. When we arrived we saw that some official function was taking place on the stage set up in front of the Basilica. Since it was the Saturday before Pentecost, representatives of the Italian government were reading proclamations honoring the Roman Catholic Church on this feast of the Church’s founding. We watched for awhile but when we realized the presiding Cardinal was even looking bored we decided to explore the streets behind the Square. After a nice walk we returned to the Square to the sound of cheering and singing. Focusing on the big screens that display in detail all that is going on at St. Peter’s we saw that Pope Benedict XVI was blessing the crowd as he toured about in the Popemobile. We found a corner of the crowd closest to the barriers and I instantly recognized that where the Pope was shown as currently traveling would take him right in front of us in a matter of seconds. As I raised my camera the pope came into view less than 5 meters away. I accepted his blessing my snapping a photo, quickly making the sign of the cross after I had captured the moment for posterity. Excited by our good fortune we enjoyed the moment over another fine Italian meal and then continued playing tourist.

That afternoon included trips to the Vatican Museum and Sistine Chapel, both which are so jam-packed with things to see that it is simply overwhelming, and then a general tour on the Roman Open Air Bus to get the lay of the land. Just before we returned to the hotel we were able to make our way into St. Peter’s Basilica before it closed. We then headed back to the hotel only to be baptized by a gentle spring shower. We enjoyed the cooling effects of the afternoon rain until one block from the hotel the skies opened up in a far less gentle manner. We ran the remaining 50 meters but not before we were quite wet. However, our plan was to cross the river that evening to eat at one of the bistros in a nice little district across the Tevere. So, after a warm shower to take away the chill, we dressed in our finest threads, not wanting to be an embarrassment to our country while visiting this capital of fashion and with an umbrella for cover walked the wet streets of Rome. We found another lovely outdoor restaurant which had just enough umbrellas covering the tables so that we could enjoy the food and the street scene on this Saturday night in Roma.

Our last day in Rome would be the next and our plan was to re-board the Open Air Bus to tour more of the local attractions, far too many to count, before we headed back for the States the following evening.

And the adventure continues . . .

The End of the First Contract

May 25, 2012

Last night was the final night I would sleep on a ship for the next eight weeks. When I awoke this morning I had the right not to put on my uniform. However, there was still work to do and I wanted to run through the finish line. I had completed my packing last night so the morning routine was much as the same as it has been over the last 4 ½ months. After morning coffee and email I headed to SKY B to teach a Business Ethics class. With that complete I returned to my office to finish the paperwork associated with the class and began to ‘hand over’ the remaining tasks on my desk to my vacation replacement, Jackie. By then it was lunchtime and I knew that after lunch I would begin the translation to life ashore.

Setting my uniform aside felt a bit uncomfortable. I would now walk the ship looking more like a guest than a crew member. Or maybe not. I decided to travel in my suit with an open collar shirt. Since it was a very warm day in the port of Civitavecchia, near Rome, I was definitely overdressed to be a guest. But now the goodbyes needed to begin. Tim made our goodbye as simple as possible. He was going to his room for his afternoon siesta, so there would be no long goodbyes. He stopped at the door of my cabin gave each of us a hug with a promise to stay in touch, and was gone. We traversed the pool deck and bid adieu to crewmates who were working in a guest activity. We crossed Decks 5 and 4 past Café al Bacio, Bistro on 5, and then down to the Martini Bar to give hugs to many of our friends who were working. On Deck 3 we gave a wave to the Guest Relations officers who were as always busy dealing with guests. Finally, we began to walk the length of the I-95, stopping every few feet to say farewell to another crew member.

When we reached Lavern’s office, our Crew Administrator, to get my final sign-off paperwork the journey was near its end. Dwight and Lavern were both there and we took several final pictures before the HR team would change, again. With too many bags to carry down from Deck 6, one of our Celebrity Cleaners agreed to come up to our cabin and load our bags for the trip down the gangway. The last goodbyes were to the security guards and then with Lavern and Jackie as companions we headed off the ship and across the dock to the waiting car. It was unquestionably emotional for me. I told Jackie to take care of my crew, and then gave Lavern a big hug. As we finally got ready to close the door, Lavern dove into the car one more time to ensure a final embrace and then the door slammed and the car began to roll.

I didn’t know whether I wanted to look back at the ship or not. But I couldn’t resist stealing a final peak as we drove away. Our emotions and adrenaline were at full tilt, and Rosie and I began to talk rapidly about the experience, about leaving, about my returning. The conversation went on for several minutes as we kept our eyes focused on the road ahead. Words were spent and silence enfolded us, and in no time, we both closed our eyes and slept.

And the adventure still continues . . .

Pizza in Naples

May 24, 2012

It’s hard to believe that this is my last port of call before ending my first contract. To celebrate this successful tour of duty, Tim, Karen, Rosie and I decided to go to lunch in Naples. Although Naples had done little to attract me on our last visit, I knew that I would have to eat the most famous dish from the birthplace of pizza. Fortunately, there is a great little pizza restaurant only a block from the ship. There are, of course, several great little pizza restaurants near the ship. But this one, in particular, is a favorite of ship’s crews which we would soon discover.

First we had to accomplish the simple task of crossing the street from the port to the shops. If it sounds like a simple task, you have never crossed the street in Italy. In Italy it appears that traffic lights are mere suggestions, and the key is to find an opening in the traffic, make eye contact with the driver or drivers and step boldly with more than a little faith that you won’t be run over. For Rosie, she had the added assistance of Tim escorting her through the traffic. Fortunately, Tim is not a small man which gave valuable mass to protect Rosie should a driver decide not to honor the pedestrians in front of him. Fortunately, we all made it safely across. Karen headed straight to the Money Change office while Tim negotiated to purchase a pair of ‘Faux Bans’ from a street vendor. With the preliminaries out of the way we headed up half a block to find our destination.

The restaurant is fronted by a small outdoor seating area, and on approach you are met with a clientele which is at least half comprised of crewmates. The waiter who greets and seats you looks like he may have been there as long as the restaurant, tall and wizened, with enough English skills to make every visitor feel welcome. We sat at an outdoor table and in no time our orders for pizza and a starter salad were taken, and wine was poured into small tumblers to lubricate our palates for the meal ahead. We looked around the garden seating and saw the trellis was adorned with pictures of various cruise ships. These pictures were signed as mementos by crews who over the years had visited this establishment. It made you feel ‘at home’ as if you were at the corner bar in Cheers, where everybody knows your name. It is at this meal I learned what the British call the leafy vegetable, arugula. They call it rocket. And now you can sleep at night. When the main course came it was definitely worth taking our life into our hands crossing the street. The pizza was crisp, savory, and flavorful. But realizing it was our ‘last supper’ together, we got a bit teary-eyed, which led for some melodramatic photos in order to capture the moment.

With the meal done, Karen and Tim headed back to the ship while Rosie and I went to take a stroll through Naples. Maybe it is that the city does not offer that interests me near the port. Maybe it was the realization that I would soon leave the ship that made me restless to get back onboard. Rosie agreed, and we headed back onboard Silhouette with our time on my floating home soon coming to an end.

And the adventure continues . . .

25th Anniversary and Ravenna

May 23, 2012

Sometimes new ports present unexpected delights. Other times you wonder what we are doing here. Ultimately, how you choose to engage the new destination results in whether you enjoy yourself or not. Such was the case in Ravenna, Italy. Rosie, Paola, and I decided to go out in Ravenna and explore a port that was new to our ship and definitely new to each of us. We went with no particular expectations and couldn’t check out the city from the dock as we would need to take a crew shuttle to get to the center of the town. As we walked down the gangway, though, we saw a beach right next to our ship. If this had been the Caribbean we would have been excited, as beach days are our favorite pastime during the winter months. But today we walked past the beach and got on the shuttle to head into Ravenna.

The ride took us about a half an hour and when we got there we were deposited at a bus stop directly in front of an architecturally intriguing church. We immediately explored the church grounds and then turned walked back out to the street to see what else there was to see. And honestly, there was nothing obvious that caught our attention. Fortunately, Ravenna had city maps placed around the town with the key sites marked. Not wanting to rip the signboard off of the building, Pao decided that the answer was to take a picture on her phone so the map would travel with us. Unfortunately, when you do that the point of reference on which the map is built is no longer in place. Still the street references helped us from getting completely lost. Our wandering did not present us with much more than several other churches. Nothing against churches but they are literally on every corner in some cities in Europe. Sadly, they are mostly empty. We finally made our way to a small café on a back alley in Ravenna and enjoyed the quaint eatery. With little more attracting our attention we headed back to the bus stop perfectly timed to grab the shuttle back to the ship. The best part of the day was what happened next. We all fell asleep during the brief ride waking up with a start when the bus stopped at the ship. Sometimes the greatest joys are the simplest.

May 23^rd was Rosie and my 25^th anniversary. It was still a work day, of course, as those never end. Additionally, the previous day my vacation replacement had signed on and I needed to focus on helping her prepare to take the reins. So, the focus of the night would be on dinner at Murano, the fine French dining restaurant on board. This restaurant defines attentive service with a ‘team concept’ that means that every course arrives exactly at the same time for each diner at your table. Rosie and I were greeted warmly by the Maitre D’, not only because we were known on the ship but the grapevine had spread the word that it was our anniversary. The Murano experience that night was all that it could be with each course delicious and each course building in flavor profiles on the one before. When it came time for dessert we knew we wanted to try the soufflés. After the order was taken, though, we were in for a surprise. The restaurant presented us with a complementary anniversary cake. However, this cake could easily have fed twenty to thirty people, which I think was the plan. We each had a small piece, as our soufflés were still on the way, and then asked the waiter to have the cake delivered to the Crew Mess so that the crew members could enjoy what we couldn’t eat. Once the soufflés came we looked at each other with the ‘what were we thinking’ expression, but dove in anyway. We left the restaurant stuffed and feeling very well cared for by our crew mates. It was a wonderful way to commemorate our 25^th.

Thank you, Tim, for helping make this visit and anniversary celebration possible.

And the adventure continues . . .

Dwight's Birthday . . . and Back to Malta, Barely

May 22, 2012

Today was the second act of our HR Celebration Week, as we recognized the anniversary of Dwight’s birth. Dwight is the ‘baby’ of the team, and we wanted to ensure we took care of him on this birthday. At the same time, it was a very busy day which is one of the reasons we had scheduled the dinner the night before at Tuscan. But I knew that I really wanted to get off the ship to buy a small gift for him. The question was going to be how.

My morning and early afternoon were packed with classes to teach, so I knew I had a very limited window, maybe an hour-and-a-half to get into Valetta, Malta, and back. Rosie took a tour of Malta in the morning and we agreed to meet and leave by 2:30pm. I had only been to Malta once but I was sure that I could easily find my way to the old city to make my desired purchase. After all, you could see the city directly up the hill from the port and finding the ship by going back down the hill appeared obvious.

Yet it is the simplest paths that can be the trickiest. I knew we had to walk down the street in front of the port and then double-back up the next street that started to head up the hill. It would take us 20 to 25 minutes to reach Valetta providing us with just over a half an hour of shopping for Dwight. That would have been the case if I clearly knew where I was going. We set out at a brisk pace and quickly reached the point where we double-backed up the next street. Five minutes into the walk it began to seem not quite right. The buildings and pitch of the road didn’t feel right. However, since having been there only once I did not trust my memory and was sure we would come across the stairs that provide the shortcut to Valletta at any moment. But we didn’t. As is no doubt clear to you but wasn’t for me until we had walked for almost 15 minutes, we were on the wrong street and there was no path to take to get up to the old city. Apologizing profusely to Rosie we made a 180 degree turn and hurried back along the street to the point where our misdirection occurred. We walked two blocks further and lo and behold we found the proper street on which to turn. A few minutes’ walk up the steep incline and we saw the sign for the stairs that are the shortcut to Valetta. We headed up the stairs and quickly made it to the old city, but only after having taken 50 minutes when 25 should have sufficed.

We entered the city with only about 20 minutes to accomplish our tasks. Anyone who has shopped with me knows that this isn’t necessarily a challenge as I once bought six Christmas gifts in half an hour. Since we were only looking for memories of Malta to bring to Dwight, the first large tourist souvenir shop was our goal. I was in and out in less than ten minutes, which left us now with ten minutes to spare. We took off down a side alley and Rosie recognized the next street from the tour she took in the morning as leading to the government offices. We proceeded to the overlook over the port and marveled at our very modern ship amidst the ancient structures of the port city. We figured that there had to be a way down from this vantage point only to be disappointed. We quick-marched back up to the city center and then retraced our steps down the staircase finding the proper streets on which to return this time. We arrived exactly on time, amazed how we had done that even after losing the time at the beginning of the excursion.

On the way down the stairs, though, we met the Cat Lady of Malta. There is a local who I believe may work at the hospital that you pass at the bottom of the staircase, who is known as the Cat Lady of Malta. She has taken it upon herself to feed that stray cats in the area of the staircase. When we passed her the area was thick with cats. Not only did she feed them, she had built and put in place a series of small shelters back in the trees off the path to keep them dry if the weather turned inclement. St. Francis had nothing on her.

And the adventure continues . . .

Team Time Plus One

May 21, 2012

The Mediterranean is generally very calm this time of year. But there are still moments that this large body of water can reflect the influences of the elements and get a bit choppy. Since we had left the Atlantic Ocean we hadn’t encountered any rough water. There are many times when you are not looking at the sea that you could not be able to tell if we were sailing or at dock. But this afternoon was one of those times when you definitely can tell you are at sea. It wasn’t horrible, as we have had far worse days onboard, but it was enough to make it uncomfortable for a couple of hundred people on the ship, including members of the crew. Yes, the crew is not immune to the perils of seasickness.

Unfortunately, one of the people who the sea made queasy was Rosie. As she was doing Zumba that afternoon she could tell that the ship was moving, as it made it somewhat difficult to properly hit all the dance steps. But it wasn’t until she returned to my cabin and she began to get ready to go out for the evening that she fully started to feel the effects. This was not great timing as we had scheduled an HR team dinner to jointly celebrate Tim’s and Dwight’s birthdays, as well as Rosie’s and my upcoming anniversary. Rosie didn’t want to take any medication and grow too sleepy to attend but being sick was also not an option. I headed down to our Medical Clinic and grabbed a few sets of what we consider our ‘magic pills’ on board. Not only will it help you with motion sickness, it can also serve as an effective sleep aid. Rosie gamely took the tablets, finished getting ready, and bravely faced the dinner ahead.

If you ever cruise on a ship, remember the analogy of the pencil. The motion of the ship is worse at the ends and gentler in the middle. If you were to grab a pencil in the middle and begin to wiggle it back and forth you will see this property in action. Unfortunately, the restaurant we were going to this evening was the Tuscan Grille, as far aft as you can go on Deck 5. I knew it took full will power for Rosie to enter the restaurant the way she was feeling. However, Tim held out his arm to escort her to the table, and with Dwight and I in tow, she made it to the table. Lavern joined us later, making the other guests wonder who this guest was who was being dined by four ship’s officers. Fortunately, the pills and the distracting conversation both took effect at the same time and soon Rosie was talking and laughing with the rest of us.

Given the great food in Tuscan it is important that you come with a healthy appetite. In my opinion, and others may disagree, the filet mignon at Tuscan is the best on the ship. For starters the best bets for me are the Italian Onion Soup, which actually seems to improve upon French Onion Soup as it is creamie.  I followed it with a made at the table Caesar Salad  before my filet to create a perfect meal. The dessert menu is equally as scrumptious but we are generally too full to indulge in more than a nice bowl of gelato. Of course, if you are living large, you can ask for it in a waffle cone bowl, made freshly at our gelataria on Deck 5. As is often the case in our team dinners the food and ambience of the restaurant are great, but it is the companionship that creates the memory. Two hours later we had reminded ourselves how special our team was and Rosie had become part of the extended family.

Praise God for the little ‘magic pills!’

And the adventure continues . . .

Let's Do the Splits for Tim's Birthday

May 20, 2012

This was party week in Team HR. Not only was Rosie on board for our anniversary but we also had two birthdays to celebrate, Tim’s and Dwight’s. Tim’s was first and we would be at anchor that day in the harbor of Split, Croatia. It was going to be a busy day, but Tim, Karen, Rosie and I decided that we would feast Tim’s annual celebration on shore in Split.

Tender operations are quite different than when we dock. Tendering can happen for a variety of reasons. Sometimes the draft of the boat is too deep to get close to the dock due to shallow water. Sometimes there are simply too many boats visiting and all the dock space is taken. Split meets the first condition. So our boat sat safely in anchor on the bay and our ship’s tender boats were in the water to carry guests and crew from and to the ship. We boarded the bright orange boat and clambered up to the top deck to enjoy the view of Split as we arrived. The city has a lovely beach front charm to it. Knowing little about Croatia we were pleasantly surprised at what we saw. The look was that of some of the most upscale beach communities in the United States from the 50s and 60s. When we reached shore we were ready to explore.

But food came first. Not too far down the beach we found a collection of cafes in a small plaza that opened up to the beach. We saw a Croatian crewmate eating at one of the restaurants and took that as a sign that it must be good. We walked up to her table, asked her for her recommendation, and then found a table in a corner so we could take in the entire view of the plaza and shore in front of us. The food was great and the company delightful as we toasted the anniversary of Tim’s birth. We passed on dessert as we had seen a gelataria along the promenade. We made a beeline for the sweet shop as we finished our meal.

That’s when things got weird. Karen and I are accustomed to being noticed by ship’s guests, either because of my guest engagement events like DWTS or Karen’s magnificent work in al Bacio. But this time, we were stopped by guests to talk to . . . Rosie! She had made friends with a couple while exploring the ship and when they saw her ashore they decided to chat her up. For those of us who represent the cruise line we found it amusing that the newest ‘guest’ on Silhouette should be the focus of attention for our guests. The conversation eventually included us all but the couple was chatty. When we looked at the clock at the end of this guest encounter we understood that there would be no time for shopping excursions or further explorations. We headed back to the tender boat and loaded for our brief sale back home. The top deck was full of crew all in great spirits from our short time ashore in Split. For most of us it was a first visit and we were glad we had.

Now you really didn’t expect that anyone was going to do the ‘splits’ in this entry, did you?

And the adventure continues . . .

A Need for Work/Life Balance Returns

May 19, 2012

Working away from family on a ship makes the total commitment to work quite easy. Work begins early in the day and generally finishes late in the evening. The mid-day break is dictated by the work schedule for the day. The time can vary, and occasionally it is simply skipped. Sometimes, since your office is only a few minutes commute by foot from your home, it is simple to make the decision to return to work in the middle of the night . . . and I have. There is not work/life balance because your work is your life. You never leave work behind. No need to ‘balance’ when the two ‘halves’ of your life are one and the same.

But with FOB (Family on Board) you need to find the balance that has been non-existent up until that point. Depending on the neediness of your guest this can be a major or minor disruption to the routine. I’ve had some crewmates indicate that their guests expected total attention from them and they felt the stress of fulfilling their duties while not disappointing their guests. On the flip side, some crew members laugh that their guests are totally independent and they rarely see them. Fortunately, Rosie’s visit fell somewhere in the middle. I wanted to spend time with her but she understood my need to get work done. So, the two halves were now separated and the need for balance returned.

The pattern we agreed on seemed to meet both of our needs. I continued to get up early and go to work, allowing Rosie to sleep just a little longer in the morning. My morning was mine to focus on all the tasks of the day. Rosie would use her comparable hours working out in the gym, joining a shore excursion as a Tour Escort, or curling up with a book or puzzles in the Hideaway. Sometime between 12:30pm and 1:00pm we would meet for lunch in the Ocean View Café. On days that I could get off for a shore visit then I would change and we would head out. That was not possible on all days so Rosie would pick up on whatever activity she had missed in the morning while I returned to the office. Whichever path we took through the afternoon I needed to be back at my office at 5pm where I would stay until 7:30pm, or so. Then, and this was the most important change, once I closed down my office I was done for the day. Dinner and a show or time with friends normally fleshed out the rest of the evening.

I almost felt like a normal working stiff, again. I was now ‘home for dinner’ and family time before bed. Undoubtedly a healthier lifestyle, but one I probably shouldn’t get used to.

That’s not how ship life works.

And the adventure continues . . .

Rosie Visits the Lawn Club

May 18, 2012

Finally I could share in person what I have only shared in print. So many things to share and only eight days to do it. Four specialty restaurants in slightly more than a week which means that we wouldn’t have a choice but to be like the guests and gain weight in the final week of my contract. Where to start? Why not start at the top? And so we did, with Rosie’s trip to the Lawn Club Grill.

If you’ve forgotten or missed previous posts, the Lawn Club Grill is exactly what the name implies. Sitting on Deck 15 next to the first lawn at sea, it is a chance to have a high tone and fancy barbeque under the stars. And these stars are over the Mediterranean. To understand the complete charm of the LCG you must know its Maitre D’, Karol Swerdon. Karol is from Poland but now lives in South Africa. His combination of charm, leadership, and creativity make him the perfect manager for this restaurant. From the moment you meet him at the entrance and he escorts the lady or ladies to the table you know that you will get rapt attention from the host. Once seated, we were introduced to our waiter who also guaranteed the same level of attentive service. The meal begins by putting the guests to work, putting on an apron, and beginning by preparing the dough for the flatbread pizza starter.

Rosie is very good in the kitchen but she was going to face the challenge of learning how to toss pizza dough. After kneading the dough and stretching it thin, she was taught the cross hand toss, and gave it a go. The fact that it didn’t go high or very straight were incidental to the experience of learning a new skill, all with the color commentary of Karol on the microphone. Rosie may tell you that it was the movement of the ship or the wind that caused the off the mark tosses, but I know the truth, and it is reassuring to know there is one thing I can do better than her in the kitchen. Once the dough was prepared she needed to dress it with her choice of toppings, the only request I had is that she employ our crew’s secret recipe, replacing the marinara with barbeque sauce.

The meal continued with the requisite salad course, fresh out of the oven pizza, and the mixed grill that we had selected. The sides included the delectable lobster mac and cheese, and yes, you have a right to wonder how we could eat all the food. The reason was motivation. We needed to finish our dinner so we could have dessert. But before the dessert could be served we needed a slight logistical adjustment. The wind had come up that night and Karol saw that Rosie was getting a bit cold. The first solution, offered to all our guests was to bring them a blanket to wrap around their shoulders. But as the restaurant started to empty, Karol took advantage of that fact by repositioning us to a table nearer the grill, the better to keep warm by.

There are a number of fine desserts at the Lawn Club Grill, but the standard is set by the simplest. We completed the meal with a ‘deep dish’ warm chocolate chip cookie, freshly baked in the pizza oven. With a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top, it was a veritable party in our mouths. Near the warm grill with the warm cookie in our bellies the cool night air wasn’t noticeable at all.

The night ended with Karol escorting us back to the entrance with our promise to return.

And the adventure continues . . .

My First 'Houseguest'

May 17, 2012

After four months of bachelorhood I need to quickly adapt to living with a ‘roommate,’ again. Today, Rosie has joined me to cruise my final eight days of my first contract together. This will allow us to celebrate our 25^th anniversary while onboard Silhouette. The day started with a call for all officers to be on the dock to help direct our guests to their desired locations in Venice. This port is so popular that only 40 out of 3000 guests would stay aboard our ship. That was why every available officer needed to help direct the crush of humanity. As the onslaught began to wane, Tim looked up into the sky and commented in a matter of fact manner.

“Oh look, there’s my computer.” Now, before you think he has lost his mind, you need the back story. Tim needed a new computer and the cheapest way for him to get it was to buy it online and ship it to my home in the US. Rosie agreed to pack it and bring it along with her. So, Rosie’s arrival meant that Tim’s computer had made it, as well. As Tim looked up he saw an Aer Lingus plane flying over the port on its way to land at the Venice airport. Since this was the right time for Rosie’s flight to be approaching he drew the correct conclusion that it was her. Less than a half an hour later I received the call from Rosie that she had collected her luggage and was at the car which was waiting to take her to the ship. Only 20 minutes after that, she was on the dock. After four months apart it was strange to see her walking along the dock. The two haves of my life were finally connected. I quickly led her onto my new home and welcomed her into this very different life.

The biggest challenge is when a small space that has been home to one person is now inhabited by two. I had tried to prepare by emptying half my wardrobe, but I soon realized how small my storage space really was. I left Rosie to unpack and get settled as I needed to go back to work. However, the amount she could unpack was limited, so she would need to rotate her clothes in and out of her suitcase which found a convenient resting place under my bed. The other limiting factor for space in my cabin was that our Chief Housekeeper had chosen to bedeck the cabin with gifts to celebrate her arrival: champagne, fruit, chocolates, robes, and towels were added to my tiny living space. I appreciated the thought even if the extravagance was less than practical. Even with the storage worked out to the best of our ability, the rhythm of the day would be different. Trying to get ready for work while not disturbing her sleeping will be a challenge in my tiny cabin. Arranging meals around a second persons schedule will need to be a reacquired skill. Getting ready for an evening out in a small space will have me yearning for the larger accommodations at home. None of these are insurmountable, of course, but a clear sign of how routines are so radically different on ship versus home.

But no question it is good to have her here. When you must be away from home and family, it is great when home and family come to you. Now I just have to figure out how three of us are going to live in this space when both Rosie and Dani come in October!

And the adventure continues . . .

Arriving in Venice

May 16, 2012

Just the thought of Venice . . . Venezia . . . can turn your mind to fantasy. To see the city in person, especially from the top deck of a cruise ship, may constitute one of the most memorable travel adventures of my life. It was Tim’s favorite topic of conversation for the last couple of days prior to arrival. As we were scheduled to dock in Venice at 9:00am this morning, he invited me to join him on Deck 14 at 7:30am to watch the sail in. It is an invitation I’m glad I accepted.

When we arrived on the top deck a good size crowd had already gathered and we were just entering the far end of the channel. We walked around the deck trying to determine which side would give us a better view and also determining where we could stand that would not block our guests’ preferred sightlines. Already bar carts were set up selling champagne and other morning drinks for guests to toast our arrival. Lightly in the background we could here Italian music playing through our pool sound system. What surprised me on this crystal clear morning was the amazing view of the snow covered Alps I could  see on the horizon. I never knew you could see them from Venice and the combination of an ancient seaport with these magnificent mountains behind was stunning.

Then the music soared! As we entered the Grand Canal we literally ‘pumped up the volume’ as Silhouette glided by the beautiful buildings, columns, towers, and churches. There was not a frame of what we saw that didn’t include several noteworthy items to photograph. What was slightly odd, however, was the angle at which we were viewing them. From our perch, the equivalent of a 14 story building, we were looking down on everything around us. This allowed us to also see the canals branching off in every direction, the waterways that connect this unique city. The effects of the high water table under the land was also clear from this perspective as you could easily discern that virtually no building was straight, all having been affected by some settling over time.

Some of the guests had one complaint, though. Quite visible around the city were construction cranes. Perhaps they are airbrushed out in postcards of Venice, but they are a perpetual reality. Work is always being done, either on the old buildings, or constructing new ones in this vibrant cultural and commercial center. Their presence reminded you that this was more than a picture postcard. A picture postcard that we would enter shortly.

And the adventure continues . . .

Carlo the Invincible

May 15, 2012

Some people are made for certain moments. Carlo, one of our Head Bartenders, is one of them. While he may be a very good head bartender, the moment for which he is made isn’t that. He is made for Dancing With the Stripes. Many of us had our opportunities to win this outrageous Officer Guest Engagement activity in Carlo’s absence. However, the man, the myth, the legend has returned, so we may be out of luck for a few months.

Carlo’s is one of those acts that just don’t get old. His shtick is fairly predictable, but it brilliantly captures his essence and that of the event. He is charming, he is funny, he is a showman, and he is light on his feet. It doesn’t matter if Carlo is paired with a statuesque young woman or a woman of more advanced years and less than impressive physique. For half an hour he turns them into a dancing queen! Tonight he was back and we hoped that it might mean that he’d be rusty from his vacation hiatus. Boy, were we wrong. From the opening notes to the final bow, Carlo and his partner owned the floor. He tends to build slowly, doing just enough in the opening waltz and tango to get through to round two. Then the costume pieces and props begin to be added with enthusiasm to the proceedings. You can bet that when he gets to the country music that he will be playing horsey to his partner’s cowgirl.

Then the third round comes and the heat is turned up. On the one hand he may crawl under the judges’ table with his partner. On the other he may mimic a ballerina as he crosses the dance floor on his toes. (Think of the hippo from Disney’s Fantasia.) This points to one of Carlo’s other advantages. He is not terribly tall, but he is not terribly thin either. As I’ve said on more than one occasion, you can’t beat a fat man who can dance.

And we didn’t that night. Sam and I made the finals with our partners as we had been consistently doing for months. But as we progressed through the finals we knew we were not going to be walking away with top honors in this competition. Before the final awards were announced, I leaned over to my dance partner and whispered, “I’m pretty sure this night belongs to Carlo.” And it did. Our applause was as loud as any of the crowds as we celebrated our crewmate’s triumph.

I guess I will have to hone my bocce game . . .

And the adventure continues . . .

Monkey in Santorini?

May 14, 2012

There are no monkeys in Santorini. At least none to my knowledge. The expectation that there might be was simply the result of a classic miscommunication worthy of Abbot and Costello. (Young people, look up the reference . . . ) I’ll blame it on my American accent. As is our custom, Paola and I were talking about the plans for the day as she worked and I sipped coffee in Café al Bacio. We stared out the floor to ceiling windows of al Bacio and took in the amazing sight of Santorini across the harbor. The city seemed to hang off the steep cliff in front of us. The rock face ran down all the way to the water and there were few choices on how to get from the shore to the city. The easiest is a gondola for which you can purchase tickets to take the picturesque ride to the top. You may also take the trail that climbs the hill. It is steep, but for someone who lives in the Rocky Mountains not incredibly daunting. Pao was feeling full of energy that day and suggested we jog up. I laughed, believing that was not a good idea to attempt, but told her if she was game, I was game.

And the third option was the monkeys. Actually, they were donkeys, but that is where the confusion set in. I told Paola that the third option was to ride up on the donkeys. She immediately heard monkeys and the confusion began. She kept insisting there were no monkeys, but I was adamant that there were donkeys and we failed to bridge the pronunciation gap for a full minute. At lot of confusion can take place in so short a time. I could see Paola trying to grasp the concept of riding a monkey up a hill. Finally, I caught on to what she was saying. “No, no,” I exclaimed, “not monkeys, donkeys! Burros! Burros!” The light went on for my Columbian friend and we dissolved in laughter. We agreed not to ride monkeys in Santorini.

The quartet this time was Tim, Pao, and I, accompanied by our Crew Administrator, Lavern. We decided to walk up the hill and a few yards up the trail Paola decided that she wanted to jog. I agreed and off we went leaving Tim and Lavern behind. This lasted about 100 meters until Pao realized that this was not a good idea. Given my high altitude lifestyle I was disappointed that I didn’t get the chance to try to make it to the top. But as we continued our climb we encountered the reality of this donkey trod trail . . . donkey poop. The trail was littered with it in a constant stream. This meant the entire climb would now be accompanied by the pungent smell. The other challenge was the donkeys, themselves. When they came up the hill with riders or down the hill returning to their handlers, they did so with no concern for who was in their way. So as not to get stepped on by heavy hooves, we took the precaution of jumping up onto the wall each time they passed. When they stopped on the trail and we had to pass I learned something else about my Colombian friends.

Just as with the parrots in Rhodes, Paola really didn’t like the donkeys . . . at all. Each time we passed she hid herself in the middle of my back and forbade me from talking to them as we passed, convinced they would take offense at my conversation. Needless to say this combination of a steep trail, the odor of donkey droppings, and my timid friend made this a rather interesting climb to the top.

But once we reached the top it was worth it. The view was stunning of the harbor where our home rested at anchor. Once again, Paola found a shop, this time with hand painted high heels that look stunning on her but for which she could not justify the cost. We celebrated the climb with a perfect gyro at a little walk up café hidden down a side alley away from the eyes of most tourists. We counted as good luck that we stumbled upon a bride and bridegroom walking from the church having just gotten married. Tim found a shop at which he had previously purchased custom blown glass decorative dishes for his home. As we walked down another alley, Paola found a sweet shop and insisted she needed to buy a piece of lemon cake on display. The procured dessert was huge but she swore she would eat the whole thing. About five bites later she offered me a taste and then placed the plate in my hand telling me it was now mine. After playing a frivolous game of hot potato with the cake while running through the narrow streets of Santorini we found two other crew members who were willing to take the cake off our hands and prevent the great Lemon Cake War of 2012. All too soon it was time to return to the ship.

We planned to take the gondola down, but when we approached we saw the wait would be at least a half an hour. Not feeling particularly patient we headed back down the trail, returning to the realm of donkeys and poop.

And the adventure continues . . .

Getting the Boot in Rhodes!

May 13, 2012

We were now on a roll when it came to visiting ports and today was not going to be an exception. The dock at Rhodes, Greece did not do too much to excite the imagination, but across the main road there was the wall of the ancient city only a few minutes’ walk. Tim was back in action today so our gang of four was now five. And then we were six, as Alrico, our South African production dancer, met us on the dock. Our expanding roving troupe dodged the traffic and headed into the old city. Once inside, I was struck by the counterpoint of the ancient and beautiful buildings and structures with the modern bustle of shop, café’s, and people. We all agreed that food would be the first order on the agenda today and so we headed straight for the center of the plaza. Even before we made it there, though, we lost Iaroslav. He felt he was long overdue in Skyping his mom and with laptop in hand stopped at the very first restaurant he saw that advertised free WiFi.

Moments later, as we entered the town square, the shouting started. No, we had not walked into a local protest, but instead into the maw of the competing vendors each trying to entice you to patronize his restaurant. It was the most aggressive sales approach I had ever seen. From each direction people were shouting and quickly closing the gap on the five of us trying to get us to sit at their restaurant. Tim was still not feeling in top form and was not taking kindly to the verbal assault. I quickly backed them off by loudly announcing that the first person who stopped yelling at us would probably get our business. True to my word I identified the first person who complied and we headed to his restaurant. That didn’t stop the other vendors who were now shouting criticisms at us for our poor choice. Our choice was the Parrot Cafe and two noisy and colorful birds squawked at us as we entered the outdoor seating area. We were very hungry when we took our seats, and unfortunately let our hunger direct our choices as we ordered WAY too much food. To top it off the experienced travelers among us said that we each must order a ‘Boot’ of beer. This is a local custom, here, and it is beer poured into a glass the shape of a boot. A boot, I might add, that could have matched the shoe size of Andre the Giant! My best guess is that this was the equivalent of 4 to 5 bottles of beer in this glass.

The meal commenced and the hilarity level was increased by the efforts to drink from the Boots. The trick is to drink it without an air bubble forming in the toe of the boot which would cause a mini-eruption of beer into one’s face when you attempt to tip the glass back down. This was not just a meal, it was an adventure. More pictures were taken of people drinking from these Boots than of any historic, cultural, or natural wonder on this itinerary. We never quite succeeded in either emptying neither one of our Boots nor the plates of food on the table. But the owners knew a good thing when they saw it, as we had obviously contributed mightily to their profit margin that day. A complementary round of ouzo arrived at our table and we toasted our friendship and fond memories.

Then there were the parrots. I told you this was the Parrot Café guarded by two of the avian sentries. As we departed the waiters offered us pictures with the parrots, which I guess will happen when five people spend close to 200 Euros on lunch. I was game and decided to convince Paola to do the same. She agreed, reluctantly, but only later did I realize how terrified she was of having the parrot on her shoulder. I also imagine that the bird’s claws on her bare shoulders were probably not the most comfortable moment of her life. After several more group pictures we found a quaint back alley out of Rhodes to the ship.

There were also the accordion players. It is sad when people in a nation need to beg for donations in some way. However, it takes on a strange twist when those who are begging are small children . . . playing accordions! Given the fact that there was one at every intersection and on every corner you expected to see Fagan from Dicken’s Oliver Twist hiding around a corner. I felt sorry for the children, but never quite reconciled this bizarre accordion addition with the typical picture of poverty.

And the adventure continues . . .

Shopping in Kusadasi

May 12, 2012

I shopped with a real celebrity today, if you believe the first local who I saw ashore. When he enthusiastically granted ‘J Lo’ who was walking next to me I thought I had fallen through the Looking Glass and just hadn’t known it. But, of course, it wasn’t the famous singer at my side, only an overly enthusiastic Turkish shopkeeper who had spied my friend, Paola, who had talked me into this excursion.

I wasn’t going to go ashore in Kusadasi. The port is most known by cruise ship guests as the gateway to Ephesus. Since I would not be able to travel to that historic location I decided that I would stay aboard and keep focused on work. However, late in the morning Pao called me and asked me to accompany her ashore. Honestly, I was the third choice as two of her girlfriends had already turned her down. But she wanted to go shopping and didn’t want to go alone. After initial reluctance I agreed to go ashore with her for an hour or so. The shops are literally right off the dock and packed as densely as you might expect in this modern Turkish bazaar. Not being a big shopper, my job was to simply ‘accompany,’ at least that’s the way it started.

My real role, or so it seemed, was to help Paola find ways to not make a purchase after she had gotten roped into the sales picture for another expensive item. Her mission was to purchase gifts for her sister and mother, and she began with great efficiency and success. Then at the sight of a beautiful leather coat hanging in a shop window we were quickly sidetracked. It was a gorgeous garment, apparently hand stitched, and beautifully blending many complementary shades of leather. The shopkeeper saw her looking at it and before I knew it he had hustled her into the shop and up the stairs to where the more expensive products were. I followed somewhat bemused at how quickly that had happened. By the time I reached her side the owner had her already trying on the coat. It looked amazing on her and she knew it. When she asked the price he was the very picture of the stereotypic Middle Eastern trader. “It is normally 350 Euro, but today we have a special of only 225!” he exclaimed. This price, still over US$350 was not something that would happen on an impulse buy. Pao blanched and then indicated it was too expensive for her. He immediately countered at 200 Euro. He then looked at me and asked, “You think she is worth 200 Euro, right?” assuming that I was buying it for her. I wasted no time in correcting that impression. As Pao and I inspected the coat carefully she whispered the question of how to get out of there. Having been in more than one small shop with a high pressure salesman I told her to ask him if it came in any other colors. Of course he did and he allowed her to slide the current jacket off. As he turned to head into the next room to select the new garment Paola and I rapidly descended the stairs and headed out of the shop, thus ending the negotiation.

We decided we needed a break and found a small kiosk selling waffles covered in fruit. Both of us being fans of waffles we ordered our afternoon treat with great expectation. Sadly, the waffle had the consistency of a thin piece of rubber and the fruit did nothing to improve the lot. The only therapy that seemed to be left for Paola was to go back to shopping. She collected a few more gifts and trinkets and we headed back to the ship from what I know understood was the crew’s favorite shopping port. For most crew members, it seems, Kusadasi trumps Ephesus. Of course, not every prized purchase makes it back onto the ship.

Did I mention the two hookahs she bought?

And the adventure continues . . .

Magic in Mykonos

May 11, 2012

I have dreamed about going to the Greek Islands since the first time I saw the movie Mama Mia. The azure blue water, the white cliffs, and the clean white and blue houses are the stuff of postcards and movies. But today I was assured that they really do exist. As is our custom, we went ashore mid-day, as close to the noon hour as we could assemble the troops. Today our composition was slightly different as Tim had been bit by the flu bug. But the Four Musketeers still needed a fourth, so Karen, Paola, and I invited along the irrepressible Ukrainian Mr. Bean. If you have read the previous blogs you will recognize the reference to my friend Iaroslav who has branded himself with his talent and personality as an expert bartender and barista. Of course, as is our norm, the ladies were late, and we almost ended up having to wait even longer while they changed outfits. Why?

They both had chosen to wear pink tops and black bottoms. The laughter of recognition as we assembled on the gangway was at first engaging until it devolved into the conversation as to whether one or the other might change. Since Iaroslav and I did not match we proceeded to the gangway and Karen and Pao soon followed. The dock, itself, was unspectacular, but we were able to see directly around the cove to a beautiful beach lined with shops within five minutes walk. The town rose up directly from the shore. As it was lunchtime I assumed we would simply stop at one of those many establishments right on the beachfront but as we reached that area Karen’s destination did not match up with my growing hunger. Since she was the one of us who had been in Mykonos before we trusted her instincts as we continued our walk. However, our conversation soon turned away from food.

“Didn’t they have any other color paint than white and blue?” Iaroslav asked. He had noticed the limited color palette of all the buildings and we weren’t sure whether his question came from impishness or the perspective of one who grew up in what was formally Communist Europe. We laughed at his question and each added our own explanation as to why the painting was this way. Was the predominance of white to reflect sunlight and keep houses cool? Was the white with blue to emulate the Greek flag? I chose to wax poetic claiming that the white and blue represented both the brilliant sky with its beautiful clouds or the sea with its frothy waves. Far from reality, of course, but I got points for poetry.

We made a quick turn off the wide promenade along the beach and found ourselves winding through the narrow, curvy lanes of Mykonos. These tiny alleys were barely two people wide and paraded us past tiny shops with even tinier doors. I had the feeling that Tolkien could have modeled the Shire from his classic tales from this charming town. Iaroslav and I found plenty of picturesque vistas to capture on our cameras while the ladies found the same beauty in the shops. But Pao quickly found out that the tiny shops did not always result in diminutive prices. When one miniscule Grecian style party dress listed at 350 Euro, we knew this wasn’t going to be a major shopping day. Like magic we turned one more corner and popped out on a wider lane that led us directly to an unexpected sight.

Windmills! Not surprising when you think about the wind that blows on this sea coast, but a vision I only associated with the Netherlands. We couldn’t resist posing for many, many pictures in front of that fantastic façade, but then our need to feed won out. We returned to the bottom of the hill at the base of the windmills and collapsed into the closest al fresco café. We let Karen order to gain the wisdom of her experience and we were glad we did.

This was my introduction to Saganaki. Forget about, fried cheese sticks at your local neighborhood establishment. Saganaki kicks fried cheese up a notch! This fried patty of gooey deliciousness has a salty tang that is balanced by squeezing fresh lemon on it. It is probably one of the worst heart attack inducing foods you can eat, but boy was it delicious! Beyond the Greek salad I really don’t recall what else we ordered. However, once the meal was done we did agree to have Greek coffee. When Iaroslav asked if it was like Turkish coffee, he was loudly corrected, ‘No, it’s GREEK!” The coffee was strong, sweet, and tasty, but then we were told that we could tell our fortunes by reading the grounds left in the cup. Of course none of us knew how so the rude comments that accompanied our reading of the dark brown oozing mass on our saucers was best left unreported.

However, we soon learned that the owners didn’t want us to leave the café. Why? Because every crew member or guest that walked by and recognized one of us would ultimately stop for food or drink. As the best advertisement they seemed to have, we found that complimentary glasses of ouzo had appeared. This anise flavored liquor will never be my favorite beverage, but given the cold liquid on this hot day and the company of wonderful friends made it by preferred beverage of the moment.

Magic happened that day in Mykonos, as I lived my Mama Mia experience.

And the adventure continues . . .