Story Veta (Book 2) (complete)

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 137: May 30 – Thessaloniki, Greece

Whew. Lots of walking today. Derrick required a detailed review and asked a ton of questions. Why? Today’s port was Thessaloniki, the origin of the Thessalonian epistles of the Bible. Also where Saint Lydia, also called Lydia of Thyatira was baptized. The students were surprisingly mature and inquisitive and didn’t show any religious sensitivities. Their parents? That’s another story but it isn’t my problem and I leave that to the teachers and other in charge of that matter.

We started the day by taking a bus to be dropped off in front of the White Tower of Thessaloniki. The White Tower of Thessaloniki is a monument and museum on the waterfront of the city of Thessaloniki, capital of the region of Macedonia in northern Greece. The present tower replaced an old Byzantine fortification, known to have been mentioned around the 12th century, that the Ottoman Empire reconstructed to fortify the city's harbor sometime after Sultan Murad II captured Thessaloniki in 1430. The reason I know this is because our guide was exceptional and because I happened to have had a list of questions that I told the students might show up on their daily quiz of their excursion. The tower became a notorious prison and scene of mass executions during the period of Ottoman rule, several of the stories our guide told were rather gruesome but certainly got the students’ attention. The White Tower was substantially remodeled and its exterior was whitewashed after Greece gained control of the city in 1912. It has been adopted as the symbol of the city.

From there we walked to the Church of Saint Dimitrios - Patron of Thessaloniki. The Church of Saint Demetrius, or Hagios Demetrios, is the main sanctuary dedicated to Saint Demetrius, the patron saint of Thessaloniki. It dates from a time when it was the second largest city of the Byzantine Empire. It is part of the site Palaeochristian and Byzantine Monuments of Thessaloniki on the list of World Heritage Sites by UNESCO since 1988. Another fact our guide gave us. Not to be churlish but, while good, the man included many of us adults in his pop questions. I paid attention as I could because some of the adults were afraid of being embarrassed and did not pay attention to their security duties as they should have.

A short stop at the Rotunda was our next stop. Built in 306 A.D. by the Romans, the Rotunda is one of the oldest religious sites of the city. Going back to the late 3rd century A.D., after a number of long devastating wars, the Romans decided to divide the Empire into 4 regions, each with its own provinces , thus leading to the creation of a new form of leadership, the Tetrarchy. And didn’t the students get an earful about that. It was good for them, they were getting a little antsy with the end of academic term getting so close.

The Arch of Galerius (a Roman emperor of the 4th century) was close by and an easy walk … at least in distance. It is also known as the Karmara. There were enough tourists about from a real cruise ship that it had me on guard. The Galerius Arch and Rotunda were basic elements of the palatial complex. The builders’ original intensions were to use it as a mausoleum, although many archaeologists believe it was initially used as a roman temple. The dimensions of the main structure are quite impressive. It was built as a quadruple arch, meaning it is basically a square with an entrance (or arch) on each side. Only two of the four columns remain of this impressive stucture, the reliefs on which represent the Galerius’ victories against the Persians and the triumphal celebrations. Among others you can see scenes of war, mounted battles and victories, triumphs, ceremonies and sacrificies in four bands, separated by relief flowers and branches. Diokletianus, Maximinus and Constantius, the other three of the Roman Tetrach, can be also observed on the relief joined by gods and forms of the Roman tradition.

Our last point of interest with this guide was the Greek Agora and Roman Forum. The Roman Forum of Thessaloniki is located at the upper side of Aristotelous Square. It is a large two-terraced forum featuring two-story stoas, dug up by accident in the 1960s. I suppose that is how many important relics are found … by accident. There is some debate with it was built. The period in which the Roman Forum of Thessaloniki was built is argued to be between 42BC-138AD. During these years many forums were built in various Roman provinces, almost in an identical way. Another view indicates that the Roman Forum is a work of the Roman Tetrarch period (late 3rd and early 4th century AD). Bottom line? It’s old. I know that I sound like a jaded traveler but mostly I was getting tired of our guide who seemed to enjoy distracting the adults to make the students laugh.

It was at that point that we had an impromptu “picnic” of the bagged lunches each student was handed as they exited the ship this morning. This killed the time that we were waiting for the bus to arrive. Once it did we took the Egnatia highway, built on the path of the Roman 'Via Egnatia', and passed by Lakes of Koroni, Volvi, as well as the village of Asprovalta. We finally arrived at the place where Saint Lydia was baptized. She is also commonly known as 'The Woman of Purple' as that was her business when we are introduced to her in the Bible.

From there we visited the archaeological site of Philippi, the 'Forum Romanum', renamed after Phillip II of Macedona in 356 BC which is the year he conquered it from the Thasians. It has been an important place in history from the Roman era, the Early Christian era, and the Byzantine period. It was never quite the same after the Plague of Justinian (547 AD) and deteriorated from that point forward, only occasionally seeing periods of rebuilding all the way up to at least 1354 AD until it was abandoned, an event not recorded the exact date of.

We took a short drive around the town of Kavala, got to see the famous church of St. John and St. Paul, and more to the students’ enjoyment stopped at a Greek bakery. On our way back to the ship we visited the famous statue of Amphipolis, the statue of the Lion. It has been restored and stands next to the old bridge of Strymonas river at the regional street Amphipolis-Serraiki Akti. We were the last ones through security and I got some grumbled complaints by other personnel but since we were on time I didn’t worry about it. I did however note it in my report to Polina just in case and then went to find Vit … who I found had been called into work. That was disappointing but that is why I had the time to chat with Derrick and update – at his request – my vlog/blog.

I think some of my irritation is bleeding through in my journal entry here. I got a couple of snippy comments from a couple of the family. I suppose they thought I was reading them a sermon when I told them about Lydia and how she helped to support her family by having her own business. Hmmm. I think the financial pressures must be going up back home. I hope no one expects Vit and I to do all of the buying we did back in our Marchand days. We are no longer in a position to do that sort of thing and I don’t want Vit to be put in the hot seat like he was back then either. I hate to sound like a curmudgeon but the family isn’t the only one feeling the financial squeeze. I need to replenish some of our own supplies and it isn’t just back home that prices are going through the roof.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 138: May 31 – Athens, Greece (1) (Sunday)

My feet are killing me. And I have a headache the size of Mount Rushmore. And I get to do this tomorrow too. Whew. The sheer size and how busy Athens is was a complete surprise to more than half the people on today’s excursion. I led a mixed group today which was in part some of the problem. High school students with adult tourists mixed in. Plus the adult chaperones that wanted to play tourist. Gah!

I had some that became so stressed during the day that they wanted to go back to the ship. So solly Chahlie, but the rules are that once you start an excursion, unless it is a medical emergency, with the excursion group you remain until the end of the trip. Lucky for me it was Sunday and Vit came along. He was a bit distant to start with, or perhaps distracted is the better descriptive, but I was busy so it wasn’t as painful as it could have been. Several of the XOs and their SOs were along for the ride which gave Vit company so he wasn’t completely glum.

I will say that I enjoyed Athens much more when it had been just Vit, I, and the Baird children. We saw many of the same things but the experience was vastly different. First came the Temple of Zeus. I take that back, first came the bus ride to get from the port to the tourist area of Athens. It was as long as I remember it, but it appeared much more run down. Greece’s economic struggles have been going on for decades and then exacerbated by the refugees the EU had forced them to take in. Then the years of the Covid Virus pandemic made it all worse. Post pandemic there was the upsurge of Antifa violence combined with the migrants – legal and illegal – that made it all so much worse on top of the near brush with the next world war when North Korea was practicing irritating the world with their bomb making skills and did the whoopsie that hit China and Russia. Just thinking of that time makes the troubles we’ve faced during the Peace Mission worth it. It is so worrisome to see that some of the fire-bomb areas have never been rebuilt, have barely been cleaned up in a couple of neighborhoods. But I didn’t have time to sermonize and make pointed comments, I was there to keep an eye on everyone.

Located between the Acropolis and the Ilisos river, the colossal Olympian was one of the greatest ancient temples of Zeus and one of the most famous marble buildings in the ancient World. And speaking of the Acropolis, it is considered the greatest and finest sanctuary of ancient Athens, dedicated primarily to its patron, the goddess Athena. It has been dominating the center of the city for millennia. The monuments of the Acropolis (the Parthenon, the Temple of Athena Nike, the Erechteion, the Propylae, the Theater of Dionysus, etc), are all unique masterpieces of ancient architecture, and have influenced art and culture for many centuries and stand in harmony with their natural setting. Our group was there for two hours, in part because of the crowds, and in part because our guide tended to lecture on things the students found interesting but caused the adults to wander away and then have to be called back to regroup.

The group immersed itself in ancient and modern Athens, from the heights of the Acropolis to the intimate, yet some how busier, Plaka District. Our guide took us passed the harbor of Zea, with its dock dating to the 5th century BC, and the elegant promenade at Mikrolimano. We climbed the 80 steps to the Acropolis and through its grand entrance, the Propylaeum, to the plateau of the rock. Then we were put on a double decker tour bus to take a pandoramce drive passed the ancient athletic Panathenaic Stadium as well as the Hellenic Parliament, Syntagma (Constitution) Square, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the Temple of Olympian Zeus. We were once again put on our feet in the Plaka District—brimming with shops and cafés—where everyone was given free time to explore or linger over coffee in sight of the Acropolis. The adults were more than ready. The students knew they would be divided into groups and escorted with a chaperone and were jockeying to go around with friends. Everyone had a strict time to meet the bus but let’s just say it wasn’t the students that were late. Thankfully Vit made sure his group with the XOs and SOs were back with time to spare … and a glorious cup of tea for me. I thanked Vit a little too profusely perhaps as his friends gave him a strange look. I apologized quietly for embarrassing him and it was Vit’s turn to look at me strangely.

“You do not … embarrass me. Had I known I would have gotten you something to drink sooner.”

“You need a day off, not a day catering to me. Although I do wish it was …”

“Yes?”

I sighed. “Sorry. I guess I just miss spending time alone with you. The crowds are … oomph!” I had to stop and get our group on our bus. Luckily I had the presence of mind to not drop my tea or dump it all over Vit. Other tourists had mistaken our bus for one of the Hop On Hop Off busses and were crowding around.

Our first stop on the bus was the Ancient Agora of Athens. The Agora was the heart of ancient Athens, the focus of political, commercial, administrative and social activity, the religious and cultural center, and the seat of justice. Our guide kept everyone interested despite the crowded streets and pedestrians that would sometimes force the bus driver to slam his breaks. Thank goodness for seat belts. I was standing up on the top deck and wound up sitting in Vit’s lap a couple of times to the amusement of the students and a few good-natured wolf whistles. Had it bothered Vit I would have said something, but he chuckled at least as much as the others.

Last stop with that guide was the Temple of Hephaestus. The magnificent temple, one of the best preserved ancient temples in the world, was the place of worship for two important deities for many merchants and shop owners of the ancient era: god Hephaestus, protector of all metallurgists, and goddess Athena Ergani, protecting all potters and the cottage industries. It was after this point that I put some adult tourists on a second bus to head back to the B, picked up a few new adult tourists, and then headed out on a walking tour with a new guide.

We started our exploration by walking to the hill of Philopappos and our new guide shared some historical facts about ancient Athens and Greece. We stopped at the famous "Socrates's prison", then at the "Pnyx", where the great political struggles of Athens during the Golden Age were fought out, both verbally and physically as it turns out the ancient Greeks were as militant as their successors the ancient Romans. From there we headed to the Hill of the Musses and finally arrived at the top of the hill where the ancient Greek mausoleum: "Monument of Philopappos" is located. All in all very interesting and educational. But that wasn’t all of it.

Along the way our group had the opportunity to take really beautiful photos of the surroundings, the Parthenon, the temple of Athena and enjoy a great view of the whole city of Athens. Despite being in work mode I and Vit took some selfies. He once again gave me a strange look when I thanked him. He did it again tonight when I mentioned it. He hadn’t realized that I kept up with our personal electronic scrapbook and seemed to fall into it and mention that we would need to take more photos more often. He smiled when he realized how happy it made me for him to say that and then wanted to know where all my post cards were. That was a different conversation that I’ll go into after I have the rest documented.

The last place with this guide was the hidden art of the ancient Greek phalanx during the Persian wars (500-448 BC), the strategy, the equipment, the movement of every Greek hoplite that made him a unique soldier through the ages. The Spartan king Leonidas and his brave 300 soldiers, the clever and cunning Athenian Politician and general Miltiades used this fighting style and managed to defend the Greek cities and the Western civilization against the Great Persian invasion. The male students were more interested in this than some of the females but one in particular seemed to catch on quickly. She is also a chess champion and often plays with the adult chess league. I suspect her mind simply works that way because of this.

This is where I sent the students back to the ship with an escort of security personnel that had been waiting for just this purpose. I still had one more excursion to play security for. This one was strictly for adults since it was an evening event. Looking over the itinerary I realized it was the exact tour that I took with the Bairds and Vit. It was a very different experience however. We met our food-loving guide in Monastiraki Square to begin the tour. Only half of the XOs and their SOs remained but there were still enough of them – Vit included – that I felt at pains to hold in my irritation at some of the other adults who didn’t want to follow the rules, or made complaints in languages they didn’t think anyone else understood. The rudeness of some of them was breathtaking, especially given the B’s mission.

For the rest of the group I tried to remain pleasant and in short order I am thankful to say that things (people) fell in line. As we walked, the guide shared fascinating insights into Greek cuisine and explained the tastings that followed. First, we headed into a centuries-old cafe to try koulóuria, a traditional Greek breakfast item that is crunchy on the outside, but deliciously soft on the inside. Next came a pastry shop to sample custard-filled filo squares and loukoumades. The golden puffs of delight are unlike any donut you’ve ever eaten before. There is a place in Tarpon Springs, FL that has these delicious balls of temptation that are doused in sweet syrup and sprinkled with cinnamon and walnuts. Vit and I took a long weekend to the area the first year we were together. It was supposed to be a honeymoon of sorts, but it turned into a work weekend but it already feels a lifetime ago.

Our next stop was another calorie count buster. We had a sliver of Greek walnut pie then stepped next door to sample local cheeses from a cheese store. That’s right. An entire store dedicated to cheese. Yum. Vit laughed at my attempt to wipe the spit out of the corners of my mouth without anyone noticing. I was supposed to be security, but it was difficult not to lose concentration with all of the goodies being handed out. To go with the cheese we next headed to the bustling meat and fish market of Varvakios Agora. The guide took us passed many stalls, each bursting with color and aromatic produce. We were even offered the chance to taste some of the local coffee. Unique in its taste, Greek coffee is brewed in a traditional small pot and served with foam on top and grounds at the bottom of the cup. Not a fan – the grounds give me the shivers – but almost everyone else seemed to be.

Then came visits to some of the hidden specialty food stores in the area. We tasted fruit and many of the group, including Vit, purchased olives, cheese, ham and other sealed deli produce that would make it passed security. Another mouthwatering stop was at a small souvenir shop to sample Greek yogurt, local wine, aged aromatized vinegar, organic olive oil and honey. The shop owner was happy to see that our group spent freely.

We finished the excursion on Evripidou Street where the heady scent of clove and cinnamon perfumed the air. This exotic street is famous for the herb and spice shops that have thrived here since the early 20th century. Need I say there was more economic cheer being spread in the shops much to the appreciation of the locals. Many of the group members were weighted down like pack horses with their purchases, Vit included, and I spotted some pick-pockets as the group was waiting on our bus. Once alerted to the problem, the XOs and other security personnel helped me to wring our group and keep an eye on any local trouble. Thank goodness the bus soon arrived.

It was fun getting through security. Heavy on the sarcasm in case you can’t guess. A staff person that I had warned that only packaged purchases would successfully make it through the inspection process decided to try their luck anyway and then fussed when they found out I had been telling the truth. How long have we been on the Peace Mission and dealing with Customs rules around the world? Tower was there and volunteered to stay with them until they were finished eating the fresh grapes they had attempted to sneak aboard. I was about to tell him thank you anyway when Polina and Yegor showed up and she told both of us to go back aboard and she would remain. The way she said it made me think the conversation she was about to have with the staff member wasn’t going to be convivial.

Vit was in a good frame of mind as we put away his purchases, drank a glass of wine as I finished my report, then looked at our selfie collection. It was when we got to the issue of the post cards that he got upset.

“I get one or two sometimes,” I began.

“But …”

“Vit, I just … I can’t … I’m there to do a job. Every once in a while I run across a moment, a temptation, and I pick one up but mostly …”

Well he certainly became disgruntled and a little more besides when I reminded him I was there doing a job, not as a tourist. And then he reminded me we’d been working with the Marchands and Bairds and I still managed to get plenty of cards. It was a minor dust up over something silly but at the same time it feels like I’m missing something in translation. I don’t know and I hate that feeling of something going over my head.

Vit is in the shower, he has an early shift and won’t have time in the morning. I’m not thrilled that tomorrow is another day in Athens but I’m not setting the itinerary. I think I’m going to have a nibble of cheese with my whine and wait and see if Vit wants to cuddle. I’m not sure, he’s in a strange mood.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 139: Jun 1 – Athens, Greece (2)

I worked off some of the food I ate last night. Today I played security for an ebike tour of Athens. I had to be all over the place as, without my knowledge, someone in the media center on board let our itinerary get out to some paparazzi. Unfriendly paparazzi that don’t seem to understand personal boundaries regardless of whether there are minors involved or not. I wound up having to get Aiden and a couple of the other older students to buddy up with the 8th year students. It didn’t stop all of the reporters and a couple got so aggressive I took drastic measures. I thought the local law enforcement and our tour guide were going to wet themselves laughing. I did not find it amusing in the least. Today’s “reporters” were some of the most aggressive that I’ve had to deal with.

The overall description of the ebike tour was included in my packet of papers but it didn’t do it justice. I did my best to give the students the best experience possible despite the lunatics with camera lenses so long they could have been used to take pictures of Mars. A few could balance the lenses on the bike handles despite wearing the camera around their neck. I should have had some suspicion of what was coming after hearing the stories of what the other adult excursions faced the previous day but frankly I thought they were exaggerating since my three groups didn’t have any trouble at all.

We took a bus to where our tour started, close to Thisseio Metro Station. The students were given a general overview of what the day would hold and how to safely operate the electric bike assigned to them. The two 8th Year Drama Queens were very subdued. Edda told me that some of the older girls had “put them in their place” and reminded them they were no longer “top of the food chain.” It must have done the trick because even with the games the paparazzi was playing they didn’t give me any grief. Miracles do happen.

We headed out along the wide promenade that rings the Acropolis. Thankfully it was a bike-friendly route that gave the students the opportunity to do some sightseeing as they rode. Our first stop was at the Pnyx on Philopappos Hill where the views of the Acropolis Hill, Mount Lycabettus – where democracy started – were certainly worthy of the photographs the students were taking with their phones. I was using my body cam to reveal to those onboard the larger than normal number of media people following us and I heard many of the parents were not happy when they found out. Polina was in meetings all day – and I suspect intentionally so as a way to keep her out of the loop – and all her second could do was tell me to avoid trouble if possible. Well duh.

Our next stop was at Herod Atticus Odeon to see the impressive facade of this roman style theater. We circled the Acropolis Museum, not to go inside but to see the unique architecture of the building. We passed by the Theater of Dionysus for a glimpse inside what is billed as the world's first theater. We took another brief stop at the Temple of Olympian Zeus and seemed to pick up a few more reporters at the same time. Argh. We picked up even more at the Arch of Hadrian, a monument of Pentelic marble built in 131 AD.

At the Zappeion Conference & Exhibition Center, an impressive modern building, I began to get help from local law enforcement. Not because they were concerned for the students’ experience but because the reporters weren’t following traffic rules and it was creating an impediment to travel around the city. We seemed to have lost our tail when we stopped at the Presidential Mansion, a mere 10 minutes, but our next stop at the National Garden they were back with a vengeance. It was as we were strolling through the magnificent Gardens with flowers and trees from all over the world that I caught some being naughty and taking close up shots of the students’ faces. It forced me to have a quick reminder talk with everyone, including the chaperones, to have their facial expressions remain happy or neutral or risk them used out of context. I’m sure none of them wanted to become a meme.

When we biked to the Plaka to stop and get a bit of “fuel” to keep us going things really started to get out of hand as the reporters started to try and have one-on-one interactions with the students, calling out questions, some of them even being so bold as to team up and try and cut one or two students out of the group to corner them. Reminded me too much of what lions of the Serengeti do to prey. That wasn’t happening on my watch so I devised a plan of my own. I had the students finish their small meal then in unison mount their bikes and head out quickly down one of the narrow streets. It caught the reporters off guard and as they attempted to follow I drove a couple of the leaders into a large, street-side trash can causing a domino effect and bicycle pile up giving us time to get away. We didn’t lose all of them of course, I wouldn’t be so lucky, but it was enough. And that’s when the laughing local cops gave us a hand, if indirectly, by handing out traffic citations.

I didn’t know it at the time but my body cam footage was being piped to the main deck and Grover told me it was like watching an old Keystone Cop movie. I caused another minor pile up when we turned into the bike stop for the Tower of the Winds – an impressive wind tower and first water clock. Either the reporters had enough footage or they were growing tired of being thwarted and we were finally free of all but one or two of the paparazzi by our last stop, the Ancient Agora of Athens where the students got another look at the Stoa of Attalos and theTemple of Hephaestus.

There were still a few hours in Athens before the ship pulled out but I knew it would take us an hour to get back to the ship so I cut short the requests to do a little more sightseeing and shopping and told them they could shop the duty-free stores at the cruise terminal. It wasn’t the perfect solution, but I wanted the students out of the crowd of paparazzi that was reforming. Thankfully our bus was not late – something that I had worried about – and we were back to the cruise port in good time despite the horrible traffic.

I was counting students like ducklings when I heard, “Rough day?”

“Hello Grover. Do me a favor and wade in and get the boys out of the leather shop? We need to get in line for security.”

“Give ‘em a few more minutes. The line is backed up.” That’s when I learned about the body cam footage.

“That’s just great. And I didn’t get to warn Vit.”

“Dymtrus was laughing as hard as the rest of us when he saw you dump that one jerk so that he fell inside the trash can head first. But word of warning, while you made some fans today you might have made a few enemies as well. Those media hounds are up in arms and complaining about your treatment of their fellow reporters.”

“Oh they are, are they.” Anyone hearing my tone would have gathered that something was about to blow.

After getting the students and chaperones back on board I decided a frontal attack was necessary. And boy did I let the entire table full have it when I cornered them in the mess hall. I reminded the media personnel loud and clear that the minors were off limits and that if I caught them circumventing security and safety rules again I would make it my personal mission in life to make sure they paid for it. The Mess Hall was pretty quiet by the time I was through with my diatribe but for once I didn’t care who saw me or said what. They’d stepped way over the line.

I told Polina as well.

“That media stunt was absolutely unacceptable!”

“Yes, it was,” she agreed placidly compared to the octave and decibels my voice was reaching. “And you can explain to the parents your concerns and how you’ve addressed them. Chief Olney can help since he is the head of the Media Center.”

I knew who the man was and gave him the evil eye since he’d been trying to make a quick getaway out of the conference room. I blocked his exit thinking we’d have a private chat only to find a bunch of the students’ parental units in what Momma would have called High Dudgeon. I suspect Chief Olney will have unpleasant memories of that meeting for years to come, especially with the parents – most of them diplomats – throwing some serious weight around about the future of Olney and his other staff members’ future job prospects if anything like that was ever done again.

Afterwards I was not in the mood, but I had a report to finish and by that time I had a raging headache. Most of it was from the idea of having to replay the problems of the day for Vit. I was in the shower when the man in question climbed in with me and it turned out to not be such a bad day after all.

I still have a headache but at least Athens is behind me and what a thing to say. More and more I worry I am becoming jaded to all the great things I have the blessing to experience. By the end of July these types of experiences will be over, perhaps forever. I should appreciate them more instead of praying for the day to end all the time. I’m rather shocked at myself and apologized to Vit for having such a bad attitude.

“My Kokhana, you are tired. And you are not the only one. Many people are starting to have the … what you call attitude.”

“You as well?”

He gave it some thought. “This is similar to what was on the O’Meg. Sometimes life is simply work.”

“Well at least the overtime helps.”

Ouch. I stepped in it that time and I realized Vit was more tired than he was letting on to let something so paltry ding his pride. It seems that I am bringing in more overtime than Vit.

I snorted, “Oh please, it takes me making overtime to even come close to your normal pay. Besides, I’m only here to be with you. If it brings some additional benefit all the better but I’d be here whether they paid me or not.”

His mouth fell open for a moment then he fussed that people weren’t recognizing my full value and insisted further that I eat more, that I was too thin. I think Vit just needed to complain a bit and so I didn’t take it personally as I normally would have. Either way I’m glad to be following him to sleep. They played that ridiculous clip again on the ship-wide television of all the paparazzi falling over. That is not the kind of notoriety that I want and in hindsight there had to have been some way to handle it better. It hasn’t done my reputation any good I’m sure.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 140: Jun 2 – Corinth, Greece

First thing this morning I had to face censure and laughter both from Dylan. I nearly told him to stuff it since he hadn’t been there but decided to just let it go. Need to watch that drama gene Yelysaveta. Dylan actually had the effrontery to try and tell me that it was a metaphor for using violence to solve complicated diplomatic situations. Ugh. It’s not like I can’t grasp what he was trying to say but again, he wasn’t there and my more diplomatic approach had failed. As Ol’ Teddy would have said, sometimes you need to use the stick to make things happen. I was already dealing with a stoic Vit. Apparently whatever had bothered him last night was still bothering him. I’m not sure what to do but couldn’t stop long enough to find out or stroke his pride or whatever wifely thing I was supposed to do because we got into port early so our excursion time was also moved up.

The Port of Corinth is situated close to the NW entrance of the Corinth Canal. For a relatively small area, the travel times are deceptively long. I had the students organized and through security before most adults seemed to be moving. We boarded a bus for the approximately 75-minute drive to the Corinth Canal by way of a modern highway, passing Eleusis and Megara with views of beaches, rocky coves and the blue waters of the Saronic Gulf along the way. Carved into the massive rock of the Isthmus of Corinth, the 76-foot wide and 26-foot deep canal dramatically separates the Peloponnese from the rest of mainland Greece. There was a fantastic photo opportunity at our stop 200 feet above water, from the center of the bridge that spans its banks. Our guide explained that the Emperor Nero once ordered a canal built here, however, the project was abandoned; the Corinth Canal was built only in the last century. We really didn’t spend that much time … roughly twenty minutes … but the Canal area was already packed with tourists from the cruise ships already in port.

I gathered the students up and we headed to the next stop on the day’s excursion. Ancient Corinth. As in “Corinthians,” the epistles by that name in the Christian Bible. Wow. Derrick was so happy to get a “report” on it in my blog/vlog tonight that I’m wondering if he is, on a certain level, lonely. Maybe I am reaching because part of me feels that way as well. As irksome as some of the family can be, and as angry as I was at them for a while, I still miss them and the daily contact. I miss Derrick as was (and is) a sort of second father figure. Maybe he misses that from me as well. On the other hand, he has a nuclear family to expend that energy on and I don’t want to be an impediment to that. Goodness I am being philosophical. Enough of that. Next I’ll turn into a little old lady that wants to sit in the Amen Pew. Something is definitely up with me, and it is not hormones. Back to today.

The site of Ancient Corinth was inhabited as far back as the Neolithic period (5000-3000 B.C.). The peak period of the town, though, started in the 8th century B.C. and lasted until its destruction by the Roman general Mummius in 146 B.C. Representative of its wealth is the Doric Temple of Apollo which was built in 550 B.C. The city was re-inhabited in 44 B.C. and gradually developed again under Roman rule. In roughly 51/52 A.D., the Apostle Paul visited Corinth. The center of the Roman city was organized to the south of the temple of Apollo and included shops, small shrines, fountains, baths and other public buildings.

The invasion of the Herulians in A.D. 267 initiated the decline of the city though it remained inhabited for many centuries through successive invasions and destructions, until it was liberated from the Turks of the Ottoman Empire in 1822. Limited archaeological excavations were conducted in 1892 and 1906 by the Archaeological Society of Athens. The systematic excavations of the area, using modern techniques, were conducted by the American School of Classical Studies starting in 1896 and continue today. We were lucky to have the opportunity to see the agora, temples, fountains, shops, porticoes, baths and various other monuments that have all been revealed during these excavations. The investigations have also extended to the fortress on Acrocorinthos, the prehistoric settlements, the Theater, the Odeion, the Asklepeion, the cemeteries, the Quarter of the Potters, and other buildings outside the main archaeological site. We only got a glimpse of those but as part of the day’s activities, University of Athens gave each student (with enough left over for the adults) a gift of a tourist type book on each Greek Island that was factual and informative. It also came with a DVD with more information.

I suppose by way of an olive branch, I received a text from Vit reminding me not to forego post cards if I saw any that I liked. I turn my body cam off when I go to the lady’s room and used that time to tell him I’d received his message and to ask if there was anything else he thought I should watch for. He said perhaps some wine or pastries that we could share, and I kept my eyes out for it the remainder of the excursion. I realize some will consider my relationship with Vit – and his with me – to a be a bit, hmmm, archaic. But most of the time it has worked for us since we both seemed to get what we wanted and needed from each other. Perhaps we are going through a period of adjustment, but I still think there will always be something decidedly old-fashioned by most people’s standards.

I got a pointed looked from a couple of the chaperones, so I wonder if they knew what I had been doing. We aren’t supposed to have personal communications while on the job, and likely I am rationalizing my own rule-breaking. On the other hand, they might have just been irritated that I took an extra minute in my ablutions whereas Grover, my security teammate for the day, was less than sympathetic to the females in our group. He doesn’t care whether the lady’s room has a line or not. Typical male.

I think all of that was put aside at our next stop which was Kastria Cave of the Lakes. Wow. The cave of the lakes is an amazing natural phenomena. The location is actually three caves which are connected to each other with lots of corridors surrounded by surreal stalactite and stalagmite formations. In the winter the cave turns into a long, subterranean river which forms a lot of small lakes during the summer when it is drier.

The cave has been explored to about 2,000 meters but you can only walk the first 500 meters of that. As we walked along the designated trail, we passed through narrow corridors and crossed artificial bridges that hovered over the lakes giving us a close up view of the amazing geological formations. In winter, when the snow melts, natural waterfalls are formed. In summer, part of the cave dries and reveals every-changing formations. The natural entrance is right on the road, but we entered via the man-made entrance in a different location.

According to myth, some young girls lived in the area; Lyssippi, Ifinoy, and Ifianassa. They were quite beautiful, but in their vanity, they claimed to be more beautiful than the goddess Hera. When Hera heard their claims, she became angry and punished them by driving them insane. The three girls believed they were cows and would run wild throughout the area trying to persuade the local women to kill their children. As the story goes, they eventually came to this cave, and the ancient oracle Melambodas, who resided in the area, took pity on them and gave them their sanity back. A depressing story but one designed to warn young girls of the danger of vanity. Or so explained the guide about how the cave became synonymous with healings. Hera was rather fond of turning females she was jealous of into cows as she also did it to Io, someone Zeus had an affair with. Personally I was more enthralled to read about the human and animal fossils found in the strange gave, including the bones of a hippopotamus.

By the time cave our exploration was finished I could tell the students were growing hungry. They were in luck because the next stop was Kalavrita where we had a traditional lunch of souvlaki … basically skewers of meat with sides of tomatoes, onions, tzatziki sauce, and pita bread. Definitely hit the spot. We explored the village on foot after lunch and I managed to pick Vit up a couple bottles of wine and some packaged sweets from a local shop. The wine was from a local vineyard name Giannikos. I got him a bottle of Late Harvest Viognier which is a sweet white wine, a Swan rose’, a red wine called Lion Agiorgitiko, and a merlot called Eclipse.

Our last stop on the excursion was the Odontotos Rack Railway. Very interesting story. A little more than a century ago Greece was smaller and weaker, still shadowed by the Ottomans and dependent on the French for most of their engineering needs. Charilaos Trikoupis, prime minister of Greece at the time, wanted to create local railway networks starting from spots next to the existing commercial railway network with lines of 75 cm width, what we call a “narrow gauge” railway. Trikoupis promoted a small gauge because he could see that a small train was more flexible which was a real advantage for a mountainous country, and it was also cheaper to construct. Therefore, in March 1889 his government decided the construction of the railway track Diakopto – Kalavrita.

Because of the inaccessible ground and the poor technical advances of that era the entire project proved more difficult than what they had estimated. However, even today it is considered a constructive feat. Few people realize that the train is (and has always been) electric, relying on dams and waterfalls to provide current. There are also walls and tunnels dug into the native stone that make it a unique experience. The scenery is not to be missed and it looked very different from coastal Greece. The train cars are small and some of our taller students felt like they were sitting in preschool-sized chairs. Grover was really suffering but put up with it with a good attitude.

We are back on the ship and all of the yada yada is over with for the day. Vit was a little strange. He all but demanded to see my purchases for the day. While he was quite happy with the wine he wouldn’t let up until I showed him that I’d purchased some post cards. That pleased him as much as the wine did. Then he had to rush off because he had a late shift and I spent time uploading the pictures of Corinth to the family blog … and answering Derrick’s subsequent questions.

Vit wasn’t the only male in my life acting a little weird and as a result I’m a bit suspicious. Derrick was too good at avoiding my questions about how the family is doing. Something must be going on. I don’t get the sense that it is anything too horrible, Derrick couldn’t keep that from me, but it must be bad enough that Derrick thinks he needs to protect me. I need to reach out more to all my siblings individually. It is too easy for that to fall by the wayside when you are all spread out without daily contact.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 141: Jun 3 – Olympia, Greece

Today the students explored the cradle of the Olympics by participating in one of the most common tours for people visiting the area of Katakolon, the port on the island of Olympia. In my opinion only, Olympia is not the most scintillating locations. What you can do as a day-tourist is limited and mostly focused on the ancient Olympics. If you are interested in such, the day was well spent. If you aren’t … let’s just say I had to redirect a few of the students more times than I should have had to. They weren’t bad, they just weren’t as focused as one would hope. The tour contained the basic important spots one should visit upon arrival at Katakolon in just under four hours so that should tell you a little about this port.

The port is right there at Katakolon’s main street … one and only main street. There were several open-air cafes within an easy five-minute walk and the duty-free shops are right there on the pier. Even in ancient times it was only every four years that people flocked to Olympia. The student bus was waiting for us when we arrived, and I must say that our guide was a rather jolly man who was on break from being a doctoral student at the University of Athens. He was raised in Katakolon but at the age of nineteen he started his mandatory military service and afterwards decided to join his uncle in the field of archaeology. So as far as guides go, he has been one of our most knowledgeable. He was also entertaining and said if he can’t get a position at university, he has plans to teach secondary school. I believe he will be a well-liked teacher if today’s experience was any indication.

Our first stop of the day was the archaeological site of Olympia. The Olympia site visit only lasted an hour despite its purpose of seeing the birthplace of the Olympic games. While there we also saw the Zeus temple and the stadium. Each of us received nn English guidebook which we got to keep as a type of souvenir.

The stadium of Ancient Olympia was considered a holy place by the ancient Greeks, where all the sports activities were held dedicated to the god Zeus. Originally, the stadium was constructed in such a manner that spectators could view the events from the slopes of Mount Cronion, but the stadium was gradually moved further east, and eventually, it was placed outside the temple of Zeus.

The stadium had a seating capacity of 20,000 spectators and almost all seats were made of mud, a little difficult to imagine. There was a vaulted passageway that connected the stadium and the sanctuary. The ancient stadium also used to host the Heraia Games, which were games for women, held in honor of the goddess Hera. An ancient version of equal rights. The racetrack of the stadium is over 200 meters long and nearly 30 to 34 meters wide. The starting and finishing lines are indicated by two stone markers. The south bank of the stadium was the podium for the judges, while on the north bank there was an altar dedicated to the priestess of goddess Demeter, who was the only woman allowed to watch the games. In 2004, the ancient stadium revived its ancient glory, when the hammer throw event of the Athens Olympics was held here.

The Temple of Zeus, now a ruin, that stands today in the archaeological site of Olympia was built to honor the chief of the gods. It was probably constructed at around 470 B.C when the ancient Olympic Games were at their peak. In fact, there is an interesting story behind the construction of this temple. In 470 B.C, there was a war between Elis and Pisa, two neighboring powers in the area of Olympia. Finally, Elis was defeated and as a penalty, the town gave the funds for building a magnificent temple right outside the stadium of Olympia. It took almost thirteen years to complete the temple; till 457 B.C. When it was completed, the Spartans gifted a golden tripod for placing it on the top of the gable. This gesture on the part of the Spartans was to celebrate their victory over Athens in the battle of Tanagra.

The Temple of Zeus is what is called a hexastyle building, erected over three steps of stylobate. The entire monument was made of limestone and was covered with stucco. Parian marble was used for making the sculptures inside the temple and Pentelic marble was used to construct the roof tiles. The temple had thirteen columns on both sides and six columns each at two ends. The construction of the temple was never entirely complete. It went under renovation many times. While, for example, the floor was initially made of colorful mosaics with pebbles and stones, later these were covered by marble. The sculptures on the pediment and the metopes depicting the 12 labors of Hercules were awesome but unfortunately, we do not know their sculptors. Three different stories were sculpted on the east pediment, the west pediment, and the metopes. However, the most impressive part of the temple was a magnificent golden and chryselephantine statue of Zeus, which is still considered to be one of the seven wonders of the Ancient World. This 13-meters tall statue was made by Phidias, the most talented sculptor of ancient Greece, in his workshop in Olympia. Unfortunately, both the temple and the statue of Zeus were destroyed by an earthquake proving yet again, what man might propose, God will dispose.

Giving the ladies equal time we saw the Temple of Hera. It was originally a temple for both Zeus and Hera. In the 7th century, this temple was built of wood, but eventually, the wood was replaced by stone. One of the oldest monuments in Greece, the Temple of Hera became solely dedicated to the goddess when the Temple of Zeus was constructed nearby. Today, it is at the altar of this temple that the Olympic flame is lit and carried to all parts of the world where the Olympic Games are being held. During excavations on the site of the temple, a marble head of Hera was discovered and the statue of Hermes, created by sculptor Praxiteles, which is hosted today in the archaeological museum of Olympia. Located close to the stadium, the Temple of Hera was protected by a terrace wall. Dating back to 650 BC, historians believe that the original temple had only a room and a corridor, to which other structures were eventually added. During the Roman reign, the temple was transformed into a sort of museum, with invaluable treasures being kept inside.

We also saw the Philippeion (dedicated to Zeus by Philip II of Macedon who was Alexander the Great’s father), and the Palaestra (where athletes practiced for the Olympic games) before heading to the Archaeological Museum of Olympia to see all of the unique artifacts found during the excavation of Olympia including the famous statue of Hermes Praxiteles.

After the museum we left the topic of ancient Greece and went to a location that plays a role in local, modern Grecian economy. Klio's Honey Farm had a nice rural house and farming family that explained the process of the local honey production as well as showing a collecting of antique honey collection tools. We also got a chance to get some of the wiggles out by exploring the farm fields. Even better, while we were there we had a nice treat; local pancakes with honey. Needless to say they had a small gift shop – very small shop – and I had the pleasure of buying some of their products. They don’t sell online so it was a true opportunity that wouldn’t come around again. I was especially happy to get sousoura honey, made of the endemic plant called Halkidiki. You can’t really get it any place else but Olympia, at least not the real stuff, so I got several bottles.

From there we were taken to Agios Andreas Small Beach. The students kicked off their shoes and ran around like sea monkeys. However I will say they kept the horseplay under control and no one was too messy to get back on the bus.

When we got back to the pier the small group that I was supposed to guide had been cancelled and I was at loose ends until I saw Vit striding towards me. “Where is your group? I will join.”

Still looking at my communicator I said, “It was cancelled. I suppose I should call Barney and …”

“Ni.”

I looked up and he was less stoic than his tone and asked, “Have you eaten?”

“No. Do you want to go back to …”

“Let us go see what is here.”

Hmmmm. I think Vit was needing some retail therapy. Not only did we dine al fresco, but Vit hit the duty-free shops. We went back on board the ship with quite a load … and a huge grin on Vit’s face that made a few people talk. Even Polina gave me a wink which I know made me blush, causing her to chuckle and say, “We do what we must.” She used a teasing, sing-song voice so I know she didn’t mean anything bad by it, but it was still embarrassing.

Let’s see, looking at the inventory some of what we bought was Kumquat, a sweet liquor made of the namesake fruit; Limoncello, a similar drink made from lemon; halvas both with or without almonds; pine, orange, and thyme honeys; more olive oil soap; kitchen utensils made of olive wood; leather belts for both Vit and I; leather bracelets and hair bobs for me and a few to keep as gifts; and of course, wine. There is the dry white wine called Ekecheiria, a rose’ called Artemis that looks like the color of a pomegranate, a dry red wine called Pheidias, then a sweet white called Arethousa. I let Vit do the talking, he bargained for a mixed case and was willing to pay in American dollars which is what everyone seems to want as the Greek dollar is devaluing at the moment.

We met Henry as we were leaving the wine shop and he said if we could wait a moment he’d put Baird’s stamp on our wine so there wouldn’t be so many questions to get it back aboard. I gave a wide-eyed look at Vit and then slid the liqueurs into the case of wine and Vit gave me a wink right back. Like old times almost so when Polina laughed as I was turning in my report I didn’t let it bother me too much.

Vit got called back into work as we were pulling out of port and I nearly wanted to stomp my feet in frustration. No sooner does it seem like we are going to get time to relax together than we are pulled apart. Gah! So irritating. I managed to get most of our purchases into our storage locker in the hold but I need to take some time and reorganize in there. We may be accumulating too much wine. I wish where ever we eventually land, that Vit can have a place for his collection of bottles, both full and empty.

For now I’m going to put the journal away and take care of some personal tasks, including putting today’s post cards away. Vit simply got silly about it and, to be truthful, I wasn’t at all opposed. I found a 4x6 index box that was going to get tossed out and I’m organizing my cards in there from now on. I will wash my hair first however. Greek summers are not for the faint of heart and my hair needs a real scrub and not a dousing with dry shampoo.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 142: Jun 4 – Corfu, Greece

Vit did not have a good night at work or something happened. He was foul this morning when I got up to go to work. I hadn’t meant to wake him up certainly, it’s just that he left his shoes in the middle of the floor, something I’ve never known him to do, and I tripped over them as I tried to get to the bathroom to shower and dress. I put some of his mood to that but I now suspect that not to be all of it.

I admit I was looking forward to today’s excursion. For one, it was strictly for Juniors and Seniors that had their driving certificate. Secondly it was Corfu and we would be driving Vespas. I learned to enjoy driving one when a roommate was gifted one by her grandparents … in lieu of a car her parents could no longer afford to loan her. When I mentioned it to Vit later he demanded to know why I had never mentioned it to him. It just never came up, that’s all I can say. I’m sure there are things about Vit I have yet to learn. Perhaps that is what in part is making up constantly be at loggerheads. I really don’t understand this. I’d take all the blame but I honestly don’t think it is all me. We really need to get to the bottom of this but I’m not even sure how to broach the subject right now without making things worse.

The start of my morning was awkward but at least it was better than later. Had I know what was coming I certainly would not have enjoyed it as I did. We took a small coach to the vespa rental office where we picked up our guide, our rides, and our helmets. We also got a lovely complimentary cup of tea which was just the ticket.

Our first stop was at Lazaris Distillery & Artisan Sweets, a local factory where we got the chance to taste "Sikomaida" a traditional Corfiot sun-dried fig pie, Kumquat spoon sweet, as well as some soft handmade nougats and Greek delights in 4 different flavors. I picked up some extra for Polina as she doesn’t make a habit of getting off the ship very much. Yegor tries but rarely do their days off coincide.

Next came the Governor's Olive Mill in Agios Mathaios Village where we participated in an olive oil tour organized by the Dafnis Family, producers of the awarded olive oil “The Governor”. We explored the groves, learned how different oils are made, and enjoyed tastings accompanied by feta cheese, tomatoes, and local wine (adults) and grape juice (minors). My body cam wasn’t the only one being used to share the day with the rest of the students. The other two chaperones and my other security team member were also sending signal back to the ship. What I didn’t know at the time was that the media center was also showing what was being captured to the main screen on the upper deck.

We stopped at the Kaiser's Throne as the next part of the day’s excursion. Between 1908 and the first world war, Kaiser Wilhelm II spent his summers at Achillion Palace but his favorite location was the village of Pelekas where he wanted to build the Achillion palace in the first place. It’s not difficult to understand why. Standing at his “throne” you have a 360-degree panoramic view of the island of Corfu.

The legal public drinking age in Greece is eighteen so our next stop was not as unusual as one might think. Near Ermones beach at Ropa Valley we visited an organic farm known as Theotoky Estate. At the estate, we took a 20-minute tour of the winery facilities and cellar with a detailed description of the wine and olive oil production. The tour concluded with a tasting of the Estate's wines by the eighteen year olds and of raw grape juice for all others, or those not wishing to imbibe. I ordered a few bottles to be delivered to the ship on behalf of some of the students who wished to gift them to their parents, as well as a few for Vit. I had completely forgotten about the growly morning at that point.

We took a break from the vespas after that stop and I think more than a few of the students were grateful. At Mirtiotissa Beach the tour included a visit to a small local family-owned restaurant where the cook (restaurant owner) learned all the traditional Corfiot cuisines secrets from his mother and grandmother. The homegrown vegetables and poultry, the wooden oven, the original Corfiot cuisine recipes that passed from great grandmother to mother & son and the owners' passion for authenticity were evident before even stepping inside. The smell was divine and I admit to enjoying myself though thankfully I didn’t forget to remain situationally aware and caught a couple of reporters trying to join our group a little too unobtrusively for my comfort.

Then it was off to Corfu Old Town to admire the Old Fortress and take beautiful photos. We walked through the narrow alleys, grabbed a drink at 'Liston' Square, and bought our share of souvenirs from one of the many souvenir shops. The old quarter is a delightful patchwork of narrow lanes and beautiful Venetian and British neoclassical mansions. We passed the Town Hall and visited the elaborately decorated Church of St. Spyridon, where the island’s patron saint is entombed. We also explored the lively Esplanade Square, the largest square in Greece.

Our last stop before returning the vespas was Paleokastritsa Beach where we got in a boat to view Corfu’s astonishing natural wonders. At Paleokastritsa, considered the “Capri of Greece,” rocky promontories are cloaked in pine and cypress and sandy bays are kissed by turquoise waters according to our guide who was much more eloquent than anything I could come up with. In the boat we traced the scenic coast and saw some of its magical grottoes, including the caves known as Nafsika, St Nicolas and the Blue Eye.

Then it was back to shore and time to ride back to the vespa rental office and turn everything in. It was quite crowded and I was happy at that point to return to the ship. Had I known what was waiting for me I wouldn’t have been nearly as eager.

I had barely stepped foot in the cabin when Vit pounced. I’m not even going to record the conversation. I want to forget it. Essentially he saw some of the feed from everyone’s body cams. Normally my face is not recorded. This time however someone caught me laughing and cutting up with the kids. Oh me oh my. Vit laid into me about it being a job and not a pleasure cruise. I so rarely cut loose with the kids that I was both embarrassed and angry at how Vit took it. It was like a hard slap in the face but I refused to dissolve into tears as I might once have.

I looked at him and said with as much quiet dignity as I could dredge up, “I’m sorry you feel like I’m not doing my job.”

All I could do was turn to leave or risk saying something I would regret, something we might both come to regret. It was as I was existing the cabin that I saw my violin, something I haven’t taken the time for in ages. I grabbed it and headed to the education area where I knew there were “sound closets” where students can go practice without having the entire ship hear them. I sounded horrible at first, proving that if you don’t use it you lose it and it took me nearly an hour to get even close to a sound I was satisfied with. I was exhausted and starving at that point so I reluctantly returned to the cabin to find that Vit had gone out and wouldn’t be in until late. I know we shouldn’t go to sleep when in anger but I have an early day tomorrow and it feels like he is staying out late just to get back at me. Fine. I am off to sleep. Perhaps his majesty will be in a better frame of mind tomorrow.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 143: Jun 5 – Nafplion, Greece

Nope, he wasn’t in a better frame of mind this morning. I woke up to clothes strewn every which way which in turn made it obvious to me that he’d come in a little worse for wear. I said nothing but then Vit sits up in bed and demands to know where I was last night. I tell him but he acts like he doesn’t believe me.

My anger returned in a flash and I said, “Obviously you just want to keep insulting me. Very well. But before you go much further I suggest you check my body cam feed as you know I can’t leave the cabin without it on.”

Score one for me. Vit blinks and starts to say something but I wasn’t going to risk showing up to my job with bloodshot eyes and a red nose from the tears that I knew wanted to fall. I turned on my heel and left to catch up with the high school students’ excursion. No. I’m not proud of myself but I am at my wits end.

Had we driven the overland distance, our port was only 2 hours from Athens. Nafplion town has an intense Medieval atmosphere. A walk around the narrow, paved streets of the Old Town is like a trip to the past. On top of a hill above Nafplion, there is the fortress of Palamidi with amazing views to the sea. At the entrance of the port, there is a small islet with a fortress that used to protect the town from naval attacks.

Old Nafplio (or Nafplion) is considered one of the most beautiful towns in Greece. The former capital of the country, it reminded me of the Plaka in Athens, but it's on the sea. With two mountains crowned by medieval fortresses overlooking the town and the small island fortress called the Bourtzi that once protected the harbor, Nafplio is full of restaurants, shops, cafes, beautiful old buildings, hotels of all catagories and a beach that you can walk to in ten minutes. Nafplio has a mild winter (they grow oranges here) and is one of the best places to visit in the off-season.

Today was a very unique tour, once again reserved for the oldest high school students that were sixteen and older. The younger two grades (fourteen and fifiteen-year-olds) had a different tour. The tour I was providing security for was called the Ancient Sunken City Tour. It was a combination of a Medieval Castles Nafplio Tour and a wilderness tour; it combined the famous Ancient Sunken City, the Small Ancient Theater of Epidavros, and breathtaking and wild scenery, pine trees hanging above the turquoise colored waters of Argolida’s coastline and wonderful secluded beaches.

Once on the bus we took a short drive and our first stop was the Small Ancient Theatre of Epidavros. It was built in the 4th century B.C. It was built by the architect Polykleitos on the side of a mountain and fits the landscape perfectly and overlooks the Sanctuary of Asklepius. For centuries, Epidavros Theater remained covered by trees, until excavations revealed the ancient monument towards the end of the 19th century. Despite repairs and restorations over the years, particularly to the seats, the stage itself has been retained as it was since ancient times. Today, the theater is a popular venue for the annual Athens Festival productions, which are held here every summer. In terms of its architecture, structure, and acoustics, Epidavros is widely regarded as the best ancient theater in Greece. In fact, its extraordinary acoustics mean that all 14,000 spectators situated in its semi-circular seating arrangement can hear every note played and every word spoken – even from the highest seats up on the 54th tier.

Then we headed back to the pier where we got into sea kayaks. The first site we visited was the famous fort of Bourtzi, built in 1473, on a tiny inlet right in front of the port. Our guide told of its importance throughout the years and the battles it has seen. From there we paddled back towards the old town of Nafplio, under the cannons of the Old Town’s 1st line of fortification, with the fortress of Palamidi dominating the view right above it. As soon as we exit the port, we paddle parallel to the ancient road of Nafplio, under Akronauplia fortress, and were rewarded with the breathtaking views of the cliffs covered in succulent vegetation with the fortress as its crown at the top.

Our guides then took us to the Ancient City which was underwater. Built in 1200BC, is is also known as Argolida’s Lost Atlantis. The shallowest part was only 2-meters deep and the students (and I) snorkeled and dove and took plenty of underwater pictures. There wasn’t a lot of underwater life in the area but some of the breakwater of the city was still visible and made for a lot of interest. I wore the waterproof body cam because I was hoping to get shots for the students to keep but they piped it into the ship as well. I got a few snotty and catty comments from adults on the ship but I was not in the mood to pay much attention to them. The trip had been for the students and to make a good impression on the locals and that’s exactly what we did.

After admiring the ruins of the Sunken City, we paddled to a place to grab our first snacks of the tour. At Athina Eco-farm we enjoyed local traditional delicacies, all produced the same way they were produced during the ancient times. The owner of the farm shared the way ancient Greeks produced their products and taste the difference to the modern way of production. In return we visited the gift shop to purchase such products as extra virgin olive oil, olives, wild blossom oregano, jams, and liqueurs. I was so tempted to just ignore what was available just to be spiteful but I couldn’t. I bought a bit of several items and texted Vit what I was sending back to the ship by courier since we had to continue on by kayak.

We continued along the coastline until we reached a small secluded beach where we paddled ashore for a short break and to enjoy some more refreshments. Once refreshed, we started paddling to Karathonas beach where we turned in the kayaks. Here the students enjoyed other watersports, such as water-cycles, volleyball, and sunbathing. However, finally it was time to transfer back to the port.

I haven’t got much more to say. Essentially Vit left the items on the bed in the cabin with a two-word note. Thank you. That’s it. I learned from Polina that his work schedule had been changed and wouldn’t be back to normal until next week. I didn’t feel like eating so I spent a few hours practicing. The only reason I am back in the cabin now is because I have to be fit to take the students ashore tomorrow in Santorini. I spent most of my emotions on my violin. I am going to sleep before things build up once again. I’m not even going to open and read the emails I got from the family. I just don’t have the energy.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 144: Jun 6 – Santorini, Greece

It should have been a beautiful day but all I could think about, when I allowed myself to think of personal things at all, was that Vit and I are breaking. Vit never came in last night. No note. No call. I assumed it was his wish. I got up, dressed, forced myself to eat a granola bar and large cup of doctored coffee instead of tea and then helped to gather the students up and get them on the tender crafts that would take us from the B to the island of Santorini. The reason why we used the tender craft is because there is no pier sufficient for a boat larger than a yacht and even most of those type crafts tender over in smaller boats.

Santorini (aka Thira) is basically the crater of a huge volcano. Actually Santorini is a group of islands consisting of Thíra, Thirassiá, Asproníssi, Palea and Nea Kaméni. Those islands came into existence as a result of intense volcanic activity. According to modern science twelve large and violent eruptions occurred, approximately one every 20,000 years, caused the collapse of the volcano’s center creating a large crater (caldera) that would back-fill with water. The volcano, however, managed to recreate itself over and over again after each eruption. However, the last big eruption occurred 3,600 years ago (during the Minoan Age) and changed that. The eruption is said to be what destroyed the thriving local prehistoric civilizations, evidence of which was found during the excavations of a settlement known as Akrotíri. We were to learn more about those people later.

We started at Oia's Main Street. The village of Oia is located at the northern part of the island. Unique and famous blue domed churches and panoramic views, it is one of the most photographed places in Greece. Oia is on the top of an impressive cliff and offers a spectacular view over the volcano. We spent an hour in the village viewing a few cultural sites such as the Maritime Museum, traces of a Venetian fortress, and the Captains houses. We also explored the shopping area and enjoyed a drink at one of the several open-air cafes. The drink was welcomed on such a warm and sunny day.

From there we moved on to Megalochori, a traditional village where we took a short walking tour. The settlement is made up of hundreds of small white painted houses with exquisite architecture, tiny alleys, tower bells, and beautiful blue domed churches. Our guide used the village as a focal point for teaching about local lifestyle and culture. We also visited an underground cave house. The cave house was interesting, but we didn’t stay long since it gets rented out to tourists and a new guest was trying to move in. The guests seemed excited to meet people from the Peace Mission. Apparently we are world-wide celebrities. I had no idea. Ugh. Not sure I like the idea of that at all either.

Further along the road in the southeast part of Santorini is The Lighthouse. Built in 1891, it’s considered one of the most beautiful of the Cycladic Islands. We walked by the cliffs around it and took several memorable pictures of the famous caldera. I made sure that there were several group shots and also that anyone that wanted a portrait shot was able to get one.

After the lighthouse we stopped at the archaeological site of Akrotiri. There we discovered the remains of a prehistoric city that remained buried for almost four thousand years. Most of the site is housed under a unique covered building that allows visitors to walk inside the excavated town. It gives visitors some unique and valuable information about the art, architecture, and everyday life back in 2000 BC. In a time when most European neolithic communities lived in villages of timber houses or simple huts, the Mediterranean civilization was already literate and living in brick and stucco dwellings. We saw paved streets, and the remains of large 2-3 story building complexes, kitchen and toilette facilities, unique wall paintings and a perfect drainage/sewage system every bit as “modern” as the Romans developed centuries later. Despite my depression I recognized it as an experience that most would not want to miss, or ever forget.

The students were a bit overwhelmed with information at that point so we made a stop at Faros Market. It was a wine farm which also offered high-quality handmade products that do not contain any preservatives or chemical additives. We tasted the local Fava bean, sun dried tomatoes, capers, caper leaves, tomato paste, traditional sweets and the family wine. The hostess escorted us around the property, from the volcanic vineyard to the family cellar. We also sampled four varieties of Santorini grapes and some traditional Greek coffee. Out of habit, and because it was expected, I and the other adults purchased some of the wine. I sent mine by courier back to the ship rather than risk the distraction of keeping up with the bottles.

Our next destination was Red Beach, the most unique natural beach of the island. It was only a short twenty-minute stop but we got some amazing pictures of the volcanic landscape and the steep cliffs with the uniquely colored sand. And from a red beach we went to a black beach. We went to the southernmost part of Santorini and spent a relaxing hour at Perissa-Perivolos Black Beach. Some students waded along the beach and I had Grover keep an eye on them, and other students such as the Science Gleeks chose to analyze the sand as part of a geology project. All of the students took time to enjoy a box lunch that had been packed for them as part of the tour. I wasn’t hungry and instead buffeted on my memories of “collecting” sand for Frankie by bringing it back in my shoes. Edda asked what I was smiling about and I’m sure my explanation was insufficient.

After the beach we had a different experience at the Monastery of Profitis Ilias. We headed up to the Prophet Elias Monastery and admire the most breathtaking view from the island's highest point. The Mountain's name is Profitis Ilias (Prophet Elias), coming from the Monastery with the same name on its peak, built in 1712. In the first two centuries of its construction, this monastery played a major role in the economic and cultural life of the island. Built in the style of a fortress, the monastery used to own a ship in the 18th century which carried out trade business with the rest of the Aegean and the Mediterranean, bringing prosperity to the Monastery. In the first half of the 19th century, it ran a school of Greek language and literature. The monastery started to decline in the 1860s and suffered a lot of destruction in the strong earthquake that hit Santorini in 1956. Today the Monastery of Prophet Elias hosts an important collection of rare ecclesiastical items, hand-written books, and Byzantine icons. It also has workshops on printing, shoemaking and candle making. From the yard of the Monastery, you get excellent and breathtaking views of the whole island of Santorini. The monks at the monastery also make wine and it isn’t too much effort to guess the adults were expected to buy a few bottles.

The students weren’t ready to return to the ship but that’s what time it was. I neither wanted to continue or return to the ship. I was in a complete funk. I sent everyone ahead with the other security and chaperones as they were shy one spot no matter how tightly packed they tried to get everyone. While the ship was pulling out a bus load of tourists showed up and it was obvious several of them were freaking out because they were late for their ship’s departure. It was not a ship-organized excursion, so their cruise liner was not obligated to wait for them. I tried to not allow the tourists’ anxiety affect me but it was a losing battle.

I nearly come out of my skin when my earpiece crackles with a familiar voice and I hear, “Chief Dymtrus? Do you read me?”

Slightly off kilter due to Vit calling me by my professional title I tap my comm and say, “This is … Dymtrus. Yes I read you.”

“To your left.”

I carefully scam to my left and see Vit waving from a small watercraft. I wave back cautiously.

“We will come alongside the pier. Be prepared to jump on quickly. Is there anyone else with you?”

“Nii … I mean no. I sent everyone else ahead.”

“Good. The three tender crafts at two o’clock are coming for the tour group. Can you relay that they need to get in line immediately? There is word of a migrant group wanting to create a disturbance heading this way.”

I had the tourists lined up – worse than herding cats – as the first of three tender crafts arrived. The crew of the ships took over from there and I peeled off and went to the other side of the pier to await my ride. They didn’t even tie off and I basically had to jumped in. I would have fallen if not for Vit who held me longer and more intimately than professionally necessary. Given what has been going on I wasn’t sure how to respond. I didn’t have long to contemplate it as I could see from the top of the steep hill that the busses drove down a group of people carrying placards and chanting and gesticulating. I couldn’t understand or really hear what they were saying but it was obvious they weren’t happy to see their targets getting away.

I noticed that there were some EBRs in the boat with security personnel standing by them but keeping them out of sight of all the smart phones and media types taking pictures. EBRs, for those that don’t know it, is a sarcastic acronym … “evil black rifles” … although the bad boys that I saw were neither evil, nor black. They were the newest adaptive combat rifle that folds like a piece of origami covered in the newest adaptive camouflage that at the moment were the tan of the boat’s interior. That told me as nothing else could how serious the situation was.

Then into the mix came a ship carrying the insignia of the Greek military. Then from behind that came some high-speed boats with uniformed Greek soldiers in it with their own versions of EBRs. They hit the pier and that was a signal for our boat driver to speed up and head towards the B. When we pulled up to the B, Vit and I as well as the other personnel quickly climbed aboard. We were herded to a conference room where, in essence, we were told not to get drawn into discussions of what we’d witnessed. If anyone forced the issue we were to tell them that the B does not interfere with the internal affairs of sovereign nations and if they would not let the topic go to report it to Security who would then report it to Admin. This was to be especially true of any media people, including our own from here on the B. I gathered from that, and my own experiences with them, that even the media onboard the B were not to be trusted not to create problems.

Grover was waiting for me when we were dismissed. “Chief Ivanov had me do the paperwork for today. She said not take a shower over it.”

Grover’s mouth was twitching. Polina’s weird take on phrases was well known. All I did was nod. “Thank you.”

Grover took off and that left me at a loss what to do next. Vit sensed it and was stressed himself. “You … wish to meet with your … er … Grover?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. He delivered Polina’s message. He’s probably off to have dinner with Margie to make up for all the bleeding his eyeballs did having to do today’s reports.”

“Er … Margie?” he asked ignoring the sarcasm over Grover’s well-known dislike of paperwork.

I shrugged. “She’s a new nurse down in the Med Bay. They’ve … taken an interest in each other.” Vit looked momentarily confused so I said, “Look, if you are trying to find a polite way to tell me that you have a meeting to go to …”

“Nii! No. I … wish to go to dinner with you … my wife … but … it has been a … difficult few days. Perhaps you do not wish to go to … dinner … with me.”

Not wanting another argument and still feeling some regret over my own behavior I told him, “Vit, if you want to go to dinner I’m fine with that.”

“You are … sure?”

“Yes,” I told him calmly, praying that we could at least eat in peace.

And that’s what we did. We went to dinner. We walked around the deck. We went back to the cabin and we shared a shower. I wouldn’t say we made up, but we certainly did something that seems to be going in a positive direction. Vit is in bed asleep and I will be as well as soon as I finish this. Tomorrow we will port in Crete. And … Vit is coming with me. Hopefully things will continue to improve.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 145: Jun 7 – Chania, Crete, Greece (Sunday)

Today has been a lovely day. I know I probably seem juvenile but I can’t keep the smile from my face. I’m not smiling like a lunatic but I’m definitely still smiling. And our shared shower – to conserve water of course – hasn’t hurt the mood either.

First off, yes Vit took a day off and came with me today during the teaching excursion. Second, I was in charge of a Science Club expedition so had my favorite students and the Science Gleeks rather than what Charlie would have called the whole kit and kaboodle of them. The small group was much less stressful and easier to manage. Third, we were on the island of Crete. Amazing place.

During breakfast I found out Vit had been invited by some of the other XOs to go do some manly activities like fishing and “pub crawling.”

“Vit, you don’t have to you know.”

“You … do not wish me to join you?”

“That’s not it at all. But you deserve a break too. Herding a bunch of teenagers around can’t be all that entertaining for you.”

His face cleared and gave a telling shrug. “Ah, but this group is not so bad. Not as easy as the Marchands … or even the Bairds … but certainly less herding of the cats that the full group becomes during a day.”

Vit’s grammar was a bit off so I knew something was bothering him, but I didn’t try to change his mind. I wanted some time with him even if I had to share it. He was obviously making an effort and I wanted to as well. I still don’t understand what is going on precisely but at least it feels like we are rebuilding some of the rapport we once had.

Today was not a tender port so we were able to walk off the ship and get straight into the van that was our conveyance for the day. We headed straight for Lake Agias, an artificial lake that is located near the village of Agia, west of Chania (our port). The valley the lake is in is considered the most humid of Crete. Agia lake receives water from underground springs originating from Lefka Ori and the river Xekolomenos. Try saying that three times fast. The lake was a swamp before the Power Public Corp converted it for producing hydroelectric power several decades ago. Today the power station is abandoned, but visitors still can see the old mechanisms and a relevant museum. The small lake hosts the largest variety of aquatic plants in Crete, but also hosts very important species of fauna, such as rare species of ferns and frogs. Moreover, the lake is a shelter for many migratory (and non-migratory) birds that fly across the entire Mediterranean and further every year. The ecological significance of Ayia is reflected in the fact that it is protected by international, and not just local or national, laws.

From the lake we headed to the Perivolia Municipal Stadium much to the approval of Aiden and Anton. After a brief scrimmage and tour of the stadium we headed to one of the stadium’s biggest sponsors. The company “Koukakis S.A” is a family business and has been producing olive-oil in Crete since 1979. The company is well-known for its guaranteed quality. In 1985 that the company up-sized and replaced the production machinery with ones of greater capacity. In addition, in 2012 they constructed a special space for the standardization of olive-oil in all types of packing. Simultaneously the company, which remains family-owned, has helped to standardize production and quality standards olive-oil and a national and international level. In addition to everything else, the company has a special designation known as “Protected Geographical Indication” which means all of their olive oil comes from a specific area of Crete. The tree variety is called “koroneiki”. This variety, in combination with the exceptional climatic conditions, the proper cultivation and harvesting in the right, traditional way, results in the production of the best olive oil quality that could be offered. We were given a tasting of the olive oil and I must admit it is quite good. Vit certainly liked it and the other chaperone who has a “nose” for olive oil similar to what some people develop for wine. He declared it the best he’d ever tried. Need I say that olive oil was purchased by our group?

From olive oil we went to a botanical park. The 20-hectare Botanical Park and Gardens of Crete grew from a disaster; a devastating fire in 2004 laid waste to the olive and orange groves around Skordalou village. A local family, the Marinakis, built the park to showcase the Mediterranean flora and fauna, and encourage hiking. There’s a citrus garden, a tropical garden, vineyards, and an area dedicated to aromatic herbs. Butterflies and birds abound much to the delight of the birdwatchers in the group. The White Mountains form a spectacular backdrop and it was here that we had a meal of finger foods and local fruit.

After lunch we were surprised not to return to the ship which was what our original itinerary indicated, but were gifted with a special treat since diplomatic meetings were running over. We were going on a private tour of something I thought we’d miss; Knossos, the ancient capital of the great King Minos and the largest and most spectacular of the Minoan Palaces.

The original Palace of Knossos was constructed around 1900 B.C., but a few hundred years later, an earthquake destroyed it. In its place, another palace was built on an even grander scale. In 1900, restoration undertaken by Sir Arthur Evans which was controversial at the time, offered great insight into the complexity of Minoan life nearly 4,000 years ago. The partially restored palace covers more than 200,000 square feet and consists of four wings spread out from a central court, a complex that once served as the administrative and religious center for the whole region. We saw the royal living quarters, rooms where state occasions were held, a theater area, storerooms and workshops, as well as indoor plumbing from more than 3,000 years ago.

Our bus driver offered another treat, saying we were the best-behaved tourist group of “children” he’d ever had. The students took his words good-natured but I’m sure a couple of them would have preferred being called something besides children. It was a photo stop to allow everyone to capture an astonishing view out to the sea with mountains at the same time. After the breathtaking panorama, we arrived at the unique Church of Two Rocks. Outside the village of Fres and inside a ravine in a beautiful location is the temple Virgin Mary (Panagia) of Two Rocks. To make a long story short, a rock detached from the mountain centuries ago and rolled down the slope and atop the rock the church of Panagia was built. Adjacent is another rock, both creating the amazingly beautiful scenery. The church was built in the late 13th century and is one of the most important Byzantine monuments in the region of Apokoronas. Like most churches of that period, Panagia has its own legend denoting people's faith.

According to the legend we were told, once a woman took her daughter and came to that place to allow their goat to graze. While the little girl was cutting greens from the cliff's edge to feed the kid, she slipped and fell over the side. When her mother saw the child fall she cried out "My Virgin Mary"! Panagia, aka the Virgin Mary, saved the child and her mother built the church in her honor. The Orthodox and Catholic religions abound with stories such as this and many of the early churches were built – or are said to have been built – in honor of such occurrences.

We thought to finish off our day of exploration with a visit to Aptera, another ancient Minoan city. One of the most interesting archaeological sites in western Crete, Aptera was inhabited since Minoan times. Its location above the Bay of Souda where our ship was anchored was strategically important. Close to its two seaports, Minoa (today's Marathi) and Kasteli (near Kalyves), Aptera could control ship travel in the area and it became a very important trading post in Crete and one of the greatest cities on the island. Aptera was destroyed in the great earthquake of 365 AD, and only sparsely inhabited afterwards, but a monastery dedicated to St. John the Theologian remained amidst the ruins and is now itself mostly a ruin.

With the diplomats still going strong we were dropped off in Chania for a short walking tour. Vit, and our other chaperone with the nose for olive oil, knew the area and I had a handy-dandy touring app. Between the three of us, and some local people more than happy to point us in the right direction, we took another two hours showing the students around before we were notified where to meet a bus to get us back to the ship as the diplomats were winding down and returning as well.

In addition to the olive oil from earlier, Vit and I were packing some other specialties of the area: thyme honey, carob products, Raki which is a spirit distilled from what is left over from pressing grapes so in fact it is more or less the same as Italian Grappa, and a Cretan dagger that I insisted Vit get for himself after I noticed him lusting for it in a shop window.

“Veta …”

“Everything you normally purchase is for us or someone else. Go ahead, you know you want to. It will go with your bottle collection once we get them all arranged to your liking.”

His smile was worth the wince I internalized after hearing the actual price he haggled for. Although it was a silver dagger after all so had intrinsic value as more than a knife. I just hope we don’t have problems with customs. That thing will definitely be going in the crate that Dylan will move on our behalf. So will the freakton of dried herbs I bought. You’d think we’d have enough except I heard from Angelia again on what the costs of imported items are at the grocery and it makes me itch to buy even more to give as gifts if nothing else.

Tonight Vit is asleep “early” because he has an early shift in the morning. I’m waiting for the last of the photos to upload because the blasted wifi was so slow earlier. They always blame the kids for the bandwidth usage but I’m not convinced. There are far more adults than minors on this ship.

I better stop writing and get to answering my email correspondence because I doubt I’ll have time to do so tomorrow. It is a sea day (yay!) and I will be translating all day long. Please let Vit and I continue healing whatever this breach is that we’ve been experiencing.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 146: Jun 8 – At sea

Today brought thoughts I suppose I have been ignoring on purpose. The students’ traditional academic year is coming to an end. What does this mean for my position? It is my main assignment. I wonder if I will be sent home. I wonder if Vit would be okay with that? Not that he’s indicated such. We are still going up the graph rather than down. But I still wonder. Our assignment aboard the B ends the the last of July. Does the students’ activities even affect my position at this point?

I asked Barney if she knew because technically she supervises my work on sea days in Baird’s office but she seemed preoccupied and barely acknowledged my question. Henry turned out to be more helpful later in the day. I’m still not sure about my position specifically but I did find out that the kids still need something to do, it just won’t necessarily be tied to academic lesson plans. The teachers and other educators already have a plan in place for their positions. Mr. Parnell and the teachers are going to continue recording and monitoring excursions. Also while the students will no longer be required to be “in class” for a certain number of days, the academic department members will be available for tutoring and will be working on portfolios that the students can take with them when they disembark the ship and return to a regular classroom setting.

I suppose that if the excursions continue so will my primary responsibilities. But I don’t like to assume anything. I’ve left a note with Polina requesting a couple of extra minutes when I turn in my reports tomorrow. Hopefully that will clear things up and I can stop stressing about it.

I would ask Vit but he pulled a double today. Or I assumed it was a double until I found out it was a first shift and then one of those training meetings that he professes to despise. When I got off my own shift I went looking for him and only accidentally found him in one of the glass walled conference areas on my way to get a salad. He was laughing.

He saw me go by like I was trying not to be noticed. He caught up with me around the corner.

“Is there an emergency?”

“No. Why would you ask that?”

“You are here.”

“I didn’t mean to be. I mean I admit I was going to look for you but …”

“You read my note that I would be in training.” It was a statement and not a question.

“What note?” I asked thinking I’d missed something he’d left in the cabin.

“I sent a note to Baird’s office.”

“I didn’t get a note,” I told him.

Looking for an explanation he said, “It must have come when you were out then.”

“I’ve been there the entire time.”

He gave me a forbidding look. “No lunch?”

“Nii … no. I was trying to unscramble someone’s cat scratch handwriting in Korean on a letter written in French. I’m not putting food on that kind of acid.”

He gave me a briefly sympathetic look as he knows that for some reason I have a block where French is concerned. “Ah. A difficult assignment.”

“Look, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

He shook his head. “Kokhana, you do not embarrass me. I will find out why the note was not delivered.”

“Don’t go to any trouble. Things happen. Things like that seem to happen a lot.”

He frowned. “More than is proper.” He reached for me but pulled back when someone stuck their head around the corner and called him back to the meeting. Instead he said, “I ask that you go eat. Yes?”

“Will you need dinner? I can order you something.”

He frowned. “I will be late. First is the training. Then a meeting on the training. Then the obligatory drinks to complain about the results of the meeting on the training. Bah!” Then his name was called again by a different person and he had to hurry off.

I do sympathize but at the same time … oh who am I kidding. Eighty percent of the personnel in that room were female and most of them were what Reggie calls smokin’ hot even in their uniforms. Bah indeed. I’ve got personal correspondence to complete and I need to review my assignments for the week. Go away you evil imp of jealousy. More trouble I don’t need.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 147: Jun 9 – Taormina, Sicily, Italy

For the next week we are doing a series of ports in Italy. I am a little concerned for the students in the Baird family. I don’t know who to discuss my concerns with but it will probably be Henry if I become more than just concerned. So far I’ve seen nothing that leads me to think I need to be more than concerned but we shall see.

Today we were in Taormina, Sicily. Very beautiful location. Vit made some comment that he wished we could go to the beach and do something by ourselves. It surprised me to be honest, he isn’t really all that fond of the beach after finding that his hair may be dark but his skin is still prone to burning even with sunscreen on. It also startled me that just as quickly he shook his head and muttered, this will all soon be over. I’m leery that whatever was going on is still going on in the background so to speak. It makes me nervous. He also seemed to be very distracted this morning. I’m putting it down to a late night and an early shift beginning. I hope that’s it.

Vit did make one odd request. He asked that if I saw any marzipan if I would pick up a box or two for him. He “owed” someone a favor and he wants to get it off his back. Hmmm. I didn’t ask questions. I know from Polina that it is an accepted practice on the B but it is just weird. You do favors for people just to do them, not to expect anything in return. I don’t think I like this “accepted practice” too much.

Vit was nice this morning, as in no growling, and he even made sure I had a cup of tea to go. Which came in handy as Vit wasn’t the only one with a late night. My concerns over my position wouldn’t allow me to sleep. Concerns I have found out are baseless which only makes the sleepless night seem even more foolish.

Gathering the students, I got them off the ship and onto the waiting bus. After a Sea Day they all seemed eager to go on the next excursion. Or maybe it was the location. Either or they cooperated and instead of herding cats they acted like reasonable young adults. Hurray. Although with a couple of them I was wondering if they were Pod People and if so where were their snatched bodies being held. And if I could convince them to stay there for a while.

Our first destination was an exciting one; Mount Etna. It is Europe’s tallest active volcano. We ascended the southern slope of the volcano, crossing the lava flows from the 1983 and 2002 eruptions. We made a brief stop to see up close their destructive effects. From there we continued up to an altitude of 6,500 feet where we visited the Silvestri Craters which originated from the eruption of 1892. Here we had the opportunity to walk along the edge of the lower crater as well as climbing the highest crater via an “easy” path for breathtaking panoramas. Easy being slightly sarcastic. I am not prone to altitude sickness but I must admit that I had a headache from the cold wind and thin air up there. I also got suckered into buying a sculpture of the last supper done in black, volcanic rock. And yes, it is beautiful but also a very touristy thing to do. Vit only kidded me a little. He said we can keep it with his dagger from Crete.

Coming down from the top of Mount Etna we stopped at Oro d'Etna, an appropriately named honey farm … Gold of Etna. We were given a tour and a simple explanation of the organic honey production process. We also tasted the varieties of organic honey and many other products like Extra Virgin Olive Oil, Wine, liquors, Olives, sun dried tomatoes, and local spice blends. And yes, we spread some economic cheer much to the pleasure of our hosts.

Finally, we arrived at Taormina itself where there was free time for the students to enjoy. Small groups were assigned to adults … combinations of chaperones and security personnel … and were given two hours to enjoy themselves. However, I also reminded them they were responsible for their own lunch today so to not leave it to the last minute. I was all over the place between groups while they walked around the city center, the beautiful narrow streets, the funny little shops, and the main attractions which included the Greek Theater, the Cathedral, and Belvedere Square. I spent a few minutes myself purchasing Sicilian Coppola hats for Vit and Derrick as well as the marzipan that Vit had requested. In a fit of silliness I also bought a handful of Marranzanos. In Italy these things are called the Jew’s Harp but back where I am from they are simply called “mouth harps.” I thought they were simply a very … er … backwoods type instrument but no, apparently they are Italian in origin and a serious instrument in Sicily. Who knew? My nephews will get a kick out of them, or the younger ones will. I simply have to make sure that their parents don’t kill me for the gift. Or perhaps they have all outgrown that sort of thing. I’ve been away from the family so much the last few years. Perhaps not even Benji would find that sort of thing amusing. Makes me sad to think about it.

I was gratified that everyone showed back up to the bus on time though several of them complained there hadn’t been enough time to both eat and look around. I told them that while I understood the sentiment, I didn’t set the itinerary and thank you anyway for showing up on time. Not sure it did any good but at least I tried to be sympathetic, because I was. I spent so much time running back and forth I almost forgot to get postcards. Luckily Edda reminded me. Vit has, oddly, been checking each day to see if I got any new ones for my collection.

Our last stop before heading back to the ship was at Castelmola, only fifteen minutes away from Taormina. It is a wonderfully stereotypical medieval village situated on top of a mountain. We saw the ruins of the castle, the main square with the Cathedral, and its wonderful view on Mount Etna. An almost compulsory stop is Turrisi Coffee Shop, where it is possible to taste a special almond wine according to our guide who is some type of relative to one of the women who played barista. I think she was his niece by marriage between cousins or something along that line. It is one of those colloquialisms that is lost in translation.

Back to the ship Vit met me as soon as I exited security and turned the students back over to their adults. He relieved me of my packages and took them to the cabin, allowing me to get my report done in near record time since there had been no problems or delays.

“That was fast,” Polina told me as I entered her office.

She looked pale. “Are you alright?”

She tried to return my look with the same stoic stare that Vit gets when he doesn’t want you to ask him something. But she couldn’t hold it for long. She pulled a Kleenex from her desk drawer and blew her nose. “You will think me weak.”

“No I won’t. Anything that makes you like this must really be something.”

She sighed. “I am … reconsidering.”

“Reconsidering what?”

“Children.”

All I could say to that was, “Wow. Is Yegor?”

She gave a short laugh. “He is not the one that …” She stopped a moment and struggled to bring herself under control. “I will never stop grieving our son but … I no longer think as I did. And I never want to be as my mother is over my brother. Perhaps, before I become too old, a child would be … a good thing. I may have left it too late however. And this job …”

“I think any job makes a parent … potential parent … think about how it affects those they have in their care. Or they should. To me your concern makes perfect sense.”

She shook her head and relaxed. “You would Little Sister. Yegor and I both have several more months before our tours are at an end but I think … yes … we will talk it over … and make one more attempt at having a biological child. If not,” she said then stopped. “If not we will discuss adopting.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“Yes. But Yegor’s family … and mine … they are against it. So many stories about warehoused children being there because of defects … of them … of the families they came from … and in Russia it can be difficult getting proper papers if they are not already blood related to you.”

“Stories like those of the Romanian children adopted during the 1990’s,” I said adding to her examples.

“Hmm. You would know if no one does.”

“I think … and this is only my opinion … that God will either open that door or not but even if you don’t adopt, or have children in some other way, you can still be a mother figure to a child who needs one. Try … try and be at peace with whatever happens. At the very least you make a great big sister. You and Angelia would make a great Tag Team and have everyone whipped into shape in no time.”

She gave a surprised but sad laugh and nodded. “True. And one day perhaps I will meet your Angelia. You never know. Travel is much easier than it once was and Yegor and I find …” More quietly she said, “More and more Yegor and I admit that Mother Russia is not the mother she once was for us. It is only our families that keep us tied there. There are other places we’ve considered …” She gave a worried look.

“Everyone needs to talk sometimes,” I told her quietly. “Doesn’t mean it goes any further.”

She surprised me by looking relieved. “You are too easy to talk to. Take care of that. It is a weapon too easy to abuse.” She shook herself like the discussion was over and I knew it was when she said, “And you wished to ask me something regarding your position.”

I explained about my concerns about the academic year ending and she said, “At least you are thinking, I suspect many personnel are simply avoiding the thought of returning home and the economics they will face there. As for now, your position is secure until the end of Vit’s tour. I know there is discussion in the highest Admin offices of things to come after the ship’s return to the US but until then they are refusing any shuffling. I will say that the original return of July 4th will not be happening. Probably closer to the first week of August.”

“Er … is that common knowledge?”

“Common knowledge? Nyet. But Vit should have heard in yesterday’s meetings.”

I carefully brought it up to Vit tonight and he admitted that he’d been wondering how to bring it up to me. He thought I would be upset.

“Nii, so long as we are together,” I told him which led to what you might expect. And now he is asleep and my preparations have been completed for tomorrow. Syracuse. Not New York but Sicily. I got a snooty little note from Human Resources that either I take a day off willingly or I will be forced to take one off whether I like it or not. That I had far too many over time hours and they’d be speaking with Mr. Baird about it. Well whoop-tee-do. I sent them a note back, more polite than theirs, that I did not set my work schedule and that if they had questions they could discuss it with my supervisors thank you very much. That I did not have a problem with the jobs and hours asked of me. I cc’d Mr. Baird and Polina and they can deal with it. What on earth am I going to do with a day off by myself?

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 148: Jun 10 – Syracuse, Sicily, Italy

Well someone certainly put some wim, wigor, and witality in Human Resources. Wowzer. I was all set to be stuck on my own today when the cabin door reopens not five minutes after Vit leaves and he looks surprised. “I am to have a day off. Or else.” We are only a few minutes into trying to figure out what to do with our imposed day off when Vit gets a call from Yegor begging for help. Apparently he and Polina also got the “or else” notes and Polina was not amused. We met them for breakfast before we docked.

“It is not that I do not want a day off. Who would not want a day to escape the asylum? But the way they worded it …” she growled and snorted.

Yegor turned the puppy dog eyes on me and I nearly laughed. I grinned and said, “I agree. That was completely unnecessary. So … let’s make them jealous and see what kind of trouble we can get into.”

Vit gives me a cautious look and finally realizes I am playing and relaxes. “My stomach will do better if we change trouble into fun.” To Yegor he says, “You do not want to know her definition of trouble.” He gives a theatrical shudder and Yegor belts out a surprised laugh drawing some looks.

Polina snorts and says, “Oh very well. I will not look a gift horse in the nose.” To Vit she says, “You travelled here with Diplomat Baird when you worked on his yacht did you not? What do you suggest?”

“Besides the wine which it is too early for? We can share a taxi and do a little sightseeing and then stuff ourselves with chocolate.”

“Chocolate?!” That was Yegor, not Polina though she looked at him indulgently.

So that’s what we did. First came Centro Storico di Ragusa Ibla, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and one of the nicest Baroque towns in Noto Valley. Or so said our taxi driver who we allowed to set the itinerary. It was completely destroyed during the terrible earthquake of 1693 but was afterwards rebuilt in a late baroque style. In other words it is full of narrow lanes, beautiful buildings and churches. We wandered there for about two hours, getting a morning pastry from our driver’s widowed aunt’s small bakery.

From there, since Yegor could not wait any longer, our driver took us to the Modica Visitor Center, where we took a guided tour of Modica city center. Modica is world-famous for its Chocolate, which if gossip is true, is made according to an ancient recipe developed by Spanish Monks. Good Heavens! We tasted chocolate until I was nearly ill. Of particular note is that we visited the first chocolate aging cellar in the world. I had no idea. They age chocolate in things like rosebuds, tobacco, teas, herbs, spices, and wooden casks with resins that flavor the chocolate. We tasted chocolates paired with marsala, vermouth, whisky, rum and beer and I was oh so glad I didn’t have to drive. Goodness. I was glad I didn’t have to walk very far or fast either. Even my cast iron stomach was reaching capacity. I thought Polina was going to have to club Yegor over the head and drag him away. She comforted him by suggesting he buy what he wanted and they would carefully lock it away and save it for as long as it would last. Vit and I wound up laughing so hard we had to step outside the shop, Yegor was so utterly serious about it all.

No one was hungry for lunch although Yegor insisted that we split a loaf of artisan bread to take the edge off the liquor we’d imbibed. We did so while on our way to Via Francesco Mormino. There we discovered the town of Scicli, located at the extreme southern point of Sicily. It became part of the UNESCO World Heritage list in 2002 and boasts its own beautiful examples of Baroque architecture kept within its historic center.

Back in Syracuse we thanked our taxi driver with a good sized tip and took a walking tour of the city stopping first at the Cathedral Square, another world heritage site. With its bright limestone buildings the Cathedral is the most important baroque monument in Sicily. From there we went to Palazzo Beneventano that used to be the site for the senate of the city. St. Lucy's Church is a Norman monument of the fifteenth century dedicated to the patron saint of the city. The tour continued to Arethusa Fountain whose legend tells that the nymph Arethusa was changed into a watercourse by the goddess Artemis (also known as Diana) in order to escape the attention of her unwanted suitor Alpheus (Alfeo).

Later we walked through the Jewish Quarter, Via Maestranza. It is also the street where the nobility of the town had their extravagant homes. It was getting late in the day so we ended in Archimedes Square to see the neoclassical Fountain of Diana whose purpose was to remind everyone about the glorious past of Syracuse.

We had just over an hour until all aboard sounded and by that time Polina was determined to use every minute of her “day off” possible. We went to the local fish and fruit market to walk around and got a real taste of Southern Italy sampling things from various stands. We also grabbed what I call tappas (finger foods) at a wine bar; bruschettas, meat and cheese delicacies, vegetables, cherry tomatoes, fresh bread, olives and olive oil. And we purchased the obligatory items including bottles of the local vino. You should have seen the look on personnel faces when the four of us went back through security with all those bottles.

I heard one man ask another what was going on. The first one shrugged and said, “They’re Russian.” At the same time Vit and I said, “Ukrainian.” We laughed like we were lit up on the newest vape experience. Oh my.

But all good things must come to an end. We weren’t halfway down the corridor before all four of us were being hailed on our comms. I’m not sure what Polina’s was but it caused her to get tight-lipped. Yegor growled something rude about idiots who couldn’t tell the difference between their IQ and wrench size. Vit sneered which is never a good thing. When I didn’t have much of a reaction the three of them showed they knew me too well.

“What?” Vit demanded.

“Mr. Parnell wants a word with me.”

Polina knows of my discomfort and said, “Tell him you can meet him in Security. Use the conference room. If he says anything tell him it makes it easier to find a solution to whatever his concerns might be.”

I nodded gratefully before they turned off to their cabin and Vit and I returned to our own.

“This Parnell, he is become a problem?”

I nearly shrugged then thought better of it. “He wants more authority than he is due over security matters. He’s a good administrator but … he misses the point in some areas that make things difficult.”

“There is not more to it?”

I looked at Vit and said, “I’ve already explained the situation as it was explained to me. Yes, the man makes me uncomfortable. Not because he has done anything in particular but because I know there is the potential for him to. I know you laughed but …”

“Nii. I should not have. But you will tell me if nothing becomes something?”

“Of course,” I told him and that was enough for Vit. I wish it was enough for me. It may not be very professional but I can barely stand to be in the same room as Mr. Parnell these days. He gives me the creeps. As I told Vit he isn’t doing anything inappropriate, but it makes me ill he may be thinking it. And I’m embarrassed in the extreme as far as his wife is concerned. I keep wanting to say something to her but I don’t know if that would make it worse or not.

Tomorrow we stop in Malta. It is not a place I have ever thought much about so I need to review my notes and prepare. I also need to respond to Dylan who for whatever reason is asking me if everything is all right. Good Lord, another mystery I do not need.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 149: Jun 11 – Valletta, Malta

Today’s weirdness? Cactus liquor. Seriously. I brought some back for Vit and Yegor. I don’t know what Vit will think of his but Polina got a laugh out of the bottle I handed her during my report. She is sure that it will get opened in the next day or two, assuming Yegor can wait that long. I suppose it will be tomorrow before Vit sees his. Human Resources may have given us an unscheduled day off yesterday but Vit and the Ivanovs are paying for it today. All three being XOs means the day offs are needed but at the same time all they are doing is pushing off what is inevitable … or so said Polina who was back to cursing HR and what she calls their interference.

Today’s port was Velletta, Malta. Part of the city looks as old as anything the Ottomans built or took over and part of it is terrifyingly modern … all stone and harsh lines. Or is in my opinion. Some people really found the architecture interesting. Well it is interesting, I just don’t particularly care for some of the historical facts that helped it to become what it is. It looks like a fortress, and for some of history that is what it was. Some of the older students seemed to understand the history that was being explained in a wider context, but some were too young and idealistic to grasp it.

Our first stops were outside Valletta. First came Mosta Parish, a central town famous for its Rotunda church. The Rotunda, also known as the Mosta Dome, is the third largest unsupported dome in the whole World with an internal diameter of 37.2 meters and walls nearly 9.1 meters thick. This church was built in the 18th Century and became known throughout the country in 1942 when during World War II, a dropped bomb failed to explode, thus sparing the lives of some 300 people who had sought protection inside.

Next was the Ta' Qali Crafts Village, located near what was once a British WWII outpost. Here we watched local artisans at work blowing elaborate glass art pieces, intricately assembling original silver filigree jewelry and much more. Of course this was the stop where we were to spread some economic cheer. I saw nothing that caught my eye enough to make me part with the money that it would cost but that isn’t to say the items weren’t beautiful. Maltese glass, lace, and silver filigree are known around the world. I know there were a lot of advanced holiday gifts being purchased by the students.

After everyone had shot their wad and spent their allowance we headed to the Mdina Old City. Mdina is built on a plateau in the center of the island. The city’s old Baroque buildings, cathedral, and magnificent bastion walls dominate the rural skyline. Mdina, once the capital city of Malta, has had many names including Melita (Roman Occupation), Medina (Arabic Occupation), Citta’ Nobile (Knights of St. John) and Citta Vecchia (after Valletta was built). Today it is also referred to as the Silent City since it inspires tranquility – or so our guide explained – at any time of the day or night. I am not sure I agree. I look at many of the older buildings and see the mark of Ottomans. Enclosed balconies may be beautiful to our modern eyes but it is also a sign that the muslims that once lived there kept their women nearly imprisoned.

The only way to really experience and enjoy this city is on foot, which is what we did. We explored the quaint alleys, narrow streets, ancient buildings and magnificent far reaching views from the high bastion walls. We started our tour at the Triton Fountain. Three grand bronze Tritons holding a huge basin of water above their heads stand proudly outside the main gates of Malta’s capital. The original statue, due to structural errors, collapsed in 1978. But thanks to the local artist and restorator, Kenneth Cauchi, the fountain was dismantled into 54 pieces and then brought back to life as an elaborate piece of art. That is what I call turning trash into treasure.

Then we stepped into the city of Valletta through the controversial yet grand Valletta City Gate. This fifth and the most modern edition of the gate, restored during 2011-2014, is often referred to as the ancient Egyptian temple of Edfu. The grand entrance will lead you across the bridge and onto the 1 km long Republic Street. This stretches the full length of the city from the gate, all the way down to the Fort St Elmo at Valletta’s waterfront. I’ll admit the gate is a little out of place but then again, many cities as ancient as this one seem to have artifacts that seem out of place.

We took a quick detour to check out Hastings Garden. This lesser-visited Valletta attraction sits at the top of St. John’s Bastion and St. Michael’s Bastion. Here we took in a panoramic view of the coastal Maltese towns Floriana, Msida and Sliema. It also overlooks the Manoel Island and Marsamxett Harbour giving us a geographical lesson to go with out historical ones. The recreational space is dedicated to the British General Francis Marquis of Hastings who was a Governor of Malta during the British period on the island. Today, it’s a nice spot to grab some rare peace in an otherwise busy city.

Next on our walking tour was a building I regarded as too contemporary for the setting. I found it very jarring and by reading some of the reviews by other tourists I was not alone. The New Parliament Building sticks out like a sore thumb. Built at a cost of around 90 million euros, the project has sparked anger and disapproval among many locals. Standing on stilts at Republic Square, Renzo Piano’s “masterpiece” blends with the rest of the monuments surrounding the area in color only. It consists of two massive stone blocks with laser-cut windows and solar panels covering the roof. The north section houses MPs’ rooms while the south holds parliament offices.

The Royal Opera House sits to the left of the Parliament building. This unusual Royal Theatre is another site brought to life after sitting derelict for years as a carpark in Malta’s capital city. Although it looks a bit like a Roman ruin, at least if you tilt your head a bit, the columns are the remnants of the once grand exterior. Before a bomb hit and severely damaged the site during WWII, the Royal Opera House was regarded as one of the most beautiful buildings in Valletta. It was built by Edward Middleton Barry, the British architect who also designed the stunning Covent Garden Theatre in London. Originally, the Maltese government proposed to clear the site for the Parliament buildings instead. Instead, Mr. Piano had a better idea. He revived the bombed site as an open-air theatre naming it after its origin structure, Pjazza Teatru Rjal.

Just behind the Royal Opera House is the Church of Our Lady of Victories. It’s the first church building completed in Valletta by the Order of St. John in 1566 following the Great Siege of Malta. The church served as the burial site for Grand Master La Vallette, the 49th GrandMaster and the hero of the Order. Later, his remains were moved to the elaborate John’s Cathedral.

Auberge de Castille sits proudly looking inland across the plaza area. It is just past the Church of Our Lady of Victories towards Upper Barrakka Gardens. The present building dates back to the 1740s in a Baroque style, and it has been called “probably the finest building in Malta.” It now houses the Office of the Prime Minister of Malta hence the security guards waving away any curious visitors.

We next visited the two-tier Upper Barrakka Gardens. The view from the upper level is probably the most exceptional on the island. We soaked up the vista across the Grand Harbour towards the “Three Cities” of Malta.

There’s the fortified Birgu jutting out into the sea closely guarded by Sanglea (Isla) and Caspiscua (Bormla). The Grand Harbour tour boats leisurely passed by showcasing the grandest of the fortifications of Valletta from below. We also saw tiny Traditional Maltese fishing boats bobbing up and down the harbor crewed by locals. The public garden at the top tier contains beautiful arches built by the Italian knights and a number of monuments commemorating several famous people including Sir Winston Churchill.

The lower tier of the Barrakka Gardens houses the Saluting Battery, overlooking Fort St. Angelo. It was originally used for the firing of the saluting guns but during WWII it was used for military purposes when needed. Today it’s used for its original purpose and, of course, for tourists’ amusement. Hordes of visitors gather at the upper and lower tiers to hear the loud bang and see the three cities disappear in a cloud of smoke. The guns usually fire daily at 12pm and 4pm but we missed being up close and personal but we heard it later.

Back on our self-guided walking tour, we head two streets over and back onto the main shopping drag of Republic Street. Construction of this “auberge” on Republic Street began in 1571. It is one of the first buildings to be erected in Valletta after the Great Siege in the late 16th century and therefore one of the oldest buildings in the city. It was originally a palace, used by the Knights of Malta, and now houses the National Archaeology Museum of Malta.

Heading a little further along Republic street we found the visitor entrance to St. John’s Co-Cathedral. Despite its relatively plain exterior, a quick look inside will show you why it is considered to be one of the finest examples of Baroque architecture in Europe. Adorned with intricate details, embellished dome ceiling and artwork donated by the knights, it was designed to rival the churches of Rome. The marble floor here houses tombs of around 400 Knights of the Order and so carries massive significance within Malta. One of the most notable works of art and the one tourists flock to Valetta to see is the Beheading of St John the Baptist by Caravaggio. Considered to be his greatest work, the painting offers a rather gory and elaborate retelling of the Biblical story. The canvas was commissioned by the Knights of Malta as an altarpiece for the cathedral and is the biggest canvas the artist ever painted. It was also Caravaggio’s only work which he signed.

We headed back towards the waterfront along St Lucia’s Street and hung a left on St Paul Street just before the steps. Here sits the Church of St. Paul’s Shipwreck, one of Valletta’s oldest structures, dating back to the 1570s. It is famous for the wooden statue of St. Paul, which is paraded on the streets of Valletta on February 10th each year during the celebration of St. Paul’s Shipwreck. From there we headed out of the church and further along St Paul’s Street and then left, down St Christopher’s Street to find Lower Barrakka Gardens which were a much smaller and quieter affair that the upper gardens. The view across the Grand Harbor from here is no less impressive though.

Right beside the gardens is a giant bell hanging in a simple memorial tower overlooking the Grand Harbor. It rings out every day at 12 noon in memory of all those who lost their lives during the incessant bombing Malta took during WWII, often known as “The Siege of Malta.” As the signs warn, the noise is very loud and many of us had to cover our ears as the bell rang out. Once we could hear without the background of tinnitus like ringing we headed back down the monument steps and along Mediterranean Street towards the Mediterranean Conference Center on the corner of North Street.

Hidden below the conference center is “The Knights Hospitallers,” an exhibition detailing the medical beginnings of the Order of St John. Sometimes also known as the Knights of Malta, history generally depicts them as a band of sword-wielding warriors. This attraction focuses instead on their work in the Holy Infirmary, which once stood on this site, treating the sick and injured of the Crusades of the 1500s. It was worth a look if for no other reason than to experience the spooky network of tunnels running deep into the Valletta rock.

A little further along Mediterranean Street, sticking out at the very end of Valletta, is Fort St Elmo. This former gunpowder magazine and armory is now home to a massive exhibition covering the history of Malta from the bronze age to the 1990s. Our guide had been keeping us going at a good clip so we had the time to stop. It’s a great place to get a handle on the complete history of the islands. There’s a heavy focus on World War II with the St George’s Cross which Malta received for its pivotal role in the allied victory, proudly on display.

We navigated our way back to the furthest end of Republic Street and began walking back towards the city gates. Just past St Dominic Street on the left, was Casa Rocca Piccola. Inconspicuous from the outside, stepping through the door here transports you into the 16th- century palace of a noble Maltese family. There are 50+ lavishly decorated rooms to explore and the included 45-minute guided tour took us down to the hidden bomb shelters and tranquil gardens.

A wander along St Christopher’s Street allowed us to reach Old Mint Street. We saw the side of The Basilica of Our Lady of Mount Carmel on the right side of the street. There’s no shortage of churches to visit in Malta but this one holds a special place for many of the locals. The iconic dome can be seen from far across the country and is easy to pick out of the Valletta skyline. There’s been a place of worship here since 1570 but the current structure only dates from 1958 despite seamlessly blending into the surrounding streets.

Pretty much next door to the church is Europe’s third-oldest working theatre. This stunning venue has been hosting performances since 19th January 1732. Nothing special on the exterior, all the magic is hidden inside. Despite multiple alterations over the years, the interior still holds true to the original stunning 18th-century design. It’s currently home to Malta’s National Theater and the Malta Philharmonic Orchestra.

Just a block away from the theater is the open space of St George’s Square and the imposing facade of the Grandmaster’s Palace. Built as a home for the “Grandmaster” (ruler of Malta) in the 16th century, it’s been used and altered by various occupants ever since. Today it is home to the office of the President of Malta. The public can visit the State Rooms and Armory exhibition areas run by Heritage Malta.

Right across from the Grandmaster’s Palace is Republican Square, called Pjazza Regina or Queen’s Square by the locals. This was our final stop on our Valletta walking tour. There we found a white marble statue located away from Cafe Cordina and in front of the National Library. It was erected in 1891 to commemorate Queen Victoria’s 50th Jubilee during British rule, despite her never having visited the country. It’s also a tribute to Queen Victoria ordering “eight dozen pairs long and eight dozen pairs short mitts, besides a scarf” made from Maltese lace. She’s therefore credited with single-handedly reviving the old tradition of lacemaking on the Maltese islands at a time of need. If you look at the ornate shawl covering Queen’s lap – it’s made from Maltese lace.

Everyone was fairly parched by that point and one of the chaperones had a contact that made a perfect opportunity for our group. From what was a small tea shop in Bormla in the 1800s, Cafe Cordina grew into a Valletta icon. With its striking interior, mouth-watering cakes and pastini, the cafe, located in an old palazzo, is a popular coffee pitstop for both locals and visitors. We celebrated completing our tour by pulling up a chair at one of the courtyard tables and grabbing something nice to eat and drink.

From there we walked back to the port area. It gave us time to take more pictures and review some of facts we’d learned as well as stop in some of the places that we’d been a bit rushed through. I even managed to find a few postcards though they weren’t a common item in the shops. I did find a small cookbook in English that was meant to be a souvenir. Let’s just say that most of them started with one large onion and several cloves of garlic and leave it at that.

Back on the ship I completed my reports, delivered the liqueur to Polina, and came back to the cabin to find that Vit is working a half shift on top of a full night shift. Ugh. I was thinking about it and I’m not sure what to think. Neither of us worked this crazy of a schedule even when we were full time caregivers for the Marchand and Baird children. As hard as we worked back in Pembroke we still had time for each other at some point during the day. Even when Vit was picking up crazy piece work to maintain his paid hours for his immigration status it wasn’t like this. Part of me feels as if I am just whining because I’m not getting my way and part of me wonders at how insidious this is, how eroding it feels. I don’t know. I do know that there are problems … or weaknesses … between Vit and I. Part of it I can put down to my insecurities and perhaps some can be put down to Vit’s. But something is nagging at me. Perhaps I should get out and socialize more, find out if these kinds of hours are typical or normal for everyone on board. Perhaps I should find out if this is a typical schedule for partners on board and if so, if they have any advice to impart.

I feel like there is something I should do, could do, might do … I’m just not sure what it is. And with Vit not here for me to interact with I suppose my imagination is going overtime. Nii. I am going to put the journal down and do something constructive. Instead of sitting around moaning about my confusion, I should try and concretely organize what I can control. I need to put away the postcards from the last couple of ports. I need to upload the pictures from my phone and post an entry on my blog/vlog. After that I’ll gather our uniforms and take them to the big laundry room and steam and press them. I’ll see what time it is then and if I still need something to do, my shoes and Vit’s spare pair could use polishing. There. How’s that for a plan for dealing with the heebies?

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 150: Jun 12 – Sorrento, Italy (Part 1)

I believe I have gone well over my recommended calorie count for the day including the limoncello that has been my last “dessert” of the day. One fluid ounce is 103 calories. My, my, my. Like drinking creamy lemon drops. And I believe I have had one too many of those creamy lemon drops. I am feeling … mellow. And very, very lemony. As in I made lemonade from the lemons I was handed today. I think I know how to deal with Vit’s insecurities but I’m not going to discuss it here. Suffice it to say he is sleeping with a particular look as if he was hit in the face with a frozen fish. Not terribly romantic but definitely giggle-inducing even without the one-too-many limoncellos.

Today we were in Sorrento, Italy. The name always makes me think Sorrento ricotta cheese that Momma preferred. Even after I started doing all of the grocery shopping for her and Poppa she would turn her nose up at anything but that particular brand. Me? I was never that picky. And honestly Momma wasn’t about most things but she just had a bug in her ear about store-bought ricotta. It had something to do with some cooking disaster when she and Poppa were just married and having family over for dinner. I never did hear the entire story. I don’t even think Derrick was born yet. Silly memory to pop into my head but there you go. Probably because Vit was like a bear with a sore head this morning.

“Every day. Every day. You leave the ship and I have no idea what you are up to.”

“Vit. How many times must I say it?”

“Say what?” he growled.

I picked up his phone where he’d thrown it on the dressing table, clicked it open, and pointed to the tracing app that I’d installed years ago. I just looked at him then at the phone and then backed to him. “Please stop doing this to yourself. And,” I added walking over to his desk space and picking up the florescent pink folder that was always on the corner. “I always leave you a copy of the itinerary I have for the day prior to leaving the ship.”

He collapsed half out of his uniform onto the corner of the bed. “Ignore your husband. He is an idiot.”

I went over and put my arm around him. “I will not ignore my husband and he is not an idiot. And please tell me we are not going to start talking in third person or I will worry about us both.”

“Nii. I … would talk about this but I must get a few hours sleep. I have a half shift starting at noon.”

It was my turn to growl. “Why are they scheduling you like this? Is it happening to everyone?”

“Do not worry about …”

“Don’t you tell me not to worry about it Vit Dymtrus. I was thinking about this just last night. Unless they have a good explanation this just isn’t right. And is it only happening to us? Do other partners on this ship have to suffer though schedules that always seem to run counter to each other? And … and this isn’t my insecurities bubbling to the surface. Mostly. But …”

He kissed me. “So you miss me?”

“Don’t ask ridiculous questions or I might back track on my husband not being an idiot. Of course I miss you. Desperately. This is just … I will not say insupportable but it doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“Nii. It does not.” Rubbing the back of his neck he said, “We are losing personnel. One here. One there. But they are not replacing them. They are coming to the end of their yearly budget and Admin thinks they can hold off until Miami so that security clearances are better and there is less salary overages.”

“Vit! That could be two months away! You can’t keep being worked into the ground like this!”

“Shhhh. It will be alright. I am not the only one working extra shifts. Yegor and Polina pull as many as I.”

“And here I am flittering away in port all the time.”

“You are not … er … flittering. It is a serious job you do. And you work with no days off.”

“There are sea days.”

He snorted. “Which you spend with Barney which is no day off. Don’t try and tell me otherwise. I remember what it was like working with her.” He was getting upset and said, “And I can do nothing to change it.”

I hugged him and gave him a kiss. “I’ll take the kids over the cranky adults any day. And have you seen all of the postcards I have collected?”

“You have new ones?” he asked, like it was he the cards brought please.

“Yes. And now I’ve kept you too long. Climb in bed Vit Dymtrus before I am tempted to keep you up even longer.” He gave me a surprised blink and then grinned and basically told me to scoot before I gave him ideas (in Ukrainian of course).

Had Vit known it he would likely have been more upset. My reason for not rushing off to be on time as usual was because of Mr. Parnell. I had gotten word that he intended on coming with the group today. I was hoping his wife would as well. I gave a quick call to security to find out who the chaperones would be and was surprised to be put through to Polina.

“You can relax. The object of your concern has found they will be in meetings all day.”

I knew she was wording it that way so that it wouldn’t come out quite so coldly on my body cam. “Thank you for letting me know. Are there any other chaperones that will be along I should know about?”

I found out that only half of my normal student group were going because the Italian mainland now requires immunization vaccines that several of the students did not have. About the same percentage of adult personnel were in the same boat. That would be rectified today or they would remain on board through Marseille as France had also started to require either an original vaccine or the booster for it that was less than five years old. I wanted to know how any student or personnel had gotten away with coming aboard without it as it was one of the required ones.

All this was running through my head as I picked up the day’s roster and tickets, rounded up the students and chaperones, and then headed down through security. We were going to be on a bus a lot but I think it was going to be worth it if the kids could hold it together.

“What is with the sour looks this morning?” I asked.

“XXX didn’t get to come.” “Yeah, and neither did XXX.”

After a few too many of those responses I said, “That’s enough. If they are really your friends, they aren’t going to begrudge you this excursion. Being crabby is something little kids behave like. Your friends and their parents were aware of the issue of vaccinations from the start of the Peace Mission. We don’t ask the countries we visit to make exceptions to their rules, we behave as good guests and abide by the rules they have in place. It is my understanding that a notice was sent around at the beginning of June about the booster shots. Correct?”

And little more whine, blah, yada, whine and everyone finally put away the mullygrubs as I reminded them that my bodycam would be tuning to the ship’s channel in about five minutes. And, so long as I got permission from security we would try and do something to include our fellow students in. That they needed to be looking for creative ways to do so because today we would be exploring the Amalfi Coast.

Our first stop was Ravello. Here we walked through a rural medieval village perched 1000 feet above sea level on the top of a cliff situated above Amalfi and Minori. Visit the most famous and ancient villa of Ravello. Also known as the City of Music due to several famous auditoriums and musical societies, Ravello, as befits a place with such beauty and history, has its fair share of legends and lore. Some of the legends have to do with St. Pantaleone, the patron saint of healing for whom the Duomo was dedicated. Local children are told that St. Pantaleone’s ghost resides along the coast in the form of a giant that still looks after them today. The churches in Ravello are filled with references to the story of Jonah and the Whale; the Ambo in the Duomo, for example, is decorated with two mosaics portraying Jonah being first swallowed by the whale and then being spat out.

Another popular legend holds that when the devil wanted to tempt Christ with the wonders of the world, he took him to Ravello. The most prominent legend of all, however, involves buried treasure. When Boccaccio wrote about Ravello in the 14th century he told the tale of a wealthy merchant, Landolfo Rufolo, who becomes a pirate and who, after surviving a shipwreck, returns to Ravello with a treasure chest. Over the subsequent centuries, a legend grew about buried treasure in the Villa Rufolo. Presumably, most people did not take the legend seriously, but in the mid-19th century some of the local residents sought to find the treasure by holding séances. At one of the séances a spirit reportedly told them that he would reveal to them the secret location, if they would first sacrifice a young child.

Acting upon that suggestion, one of the local residents ritually sacrificed a two-year old child. After the boy’s body was discovered in the walls of the Villa Rufolo, the culprit subsequently confessed and was convicted of murder. Quite gruesome and a story I was not happy that the students heard but as I was telling them earlier, they are not children. I just hope their parents don’t throw a fit.

The grottos, or caves, that dot the hills around Ravello have also spawned legends. For centuries, the caves have been very popular with foreign visitors. Some say that the grottos of Ravello inspired Hendrik Ibsen, the great Norwegian playwright, to write Peer Gynt, and for Edvard Grieg, the Norwegian composer, to compose the music for it.

Our next stop was Ceramiche Casola. This was one of the “money makers” for this excursion. We were show fine ceramic dishes, jars, jugs, decorative and functional objects of exquisite workmanship, hand-made and hand-decorated. Even I bought a set of four ceramic plates. More on that later. Not far away from the ceramic store we stopped for refreshments. Adults were encouraged to try the limoncello. Uh huh. The students drank lemonade made fresh from the family’s lemon orchard. I decided to sweeten Vit’s disposition a bit and bought a regular bottle of the limoncello and a cream version. I bought a similar set for Polina who rarely leaves the ship but seems to honestly appreciate it when I bring her things back from the excursions.

You’d think we are all alcoholics the way I talk about things but I’ve grown very “European” in my attitudes I suppose. Derrick mentioned it several times until I made it clear that I wasn’t turning into a swill, I just liked a glass of wine with dinner and the occasional liqueur. I still feel like he is counting glasses when I am drinking in his presence but I suppose that is just the big brother in him (the big pigheaded, over-protective brother in him).

After refreshments we went to the Grotta dello Smeraldo, also known as the Emerald Grotto in English. It is one of the gems of the Amalfi Coast in the bay of “Conca dei Marini”. The grotto was named “Emerald” for the incredible colors that filter from an underground opening and fill the cave with intense colors of green. Well-known in the 19th century, the grotto was somehow forgotten and only re-discovered in 1932 by a local sailor. The inside of the cavern is filled with stalagmites, stalactites and strange "work of arts" created by time and nature. For the Science Club we found out that the grotto combines the characteristics of both an inland grotto and a marine grotto. Until 6000 years ago (yesterday, in the geological timeline) the grotto was not submerged. Over time the level of the sea has risen and the grotto has filled with water. Another unique feature of the grotto is an underwater nativity scene, made by ceramics artisans from nearby Vietri in 1956. Since that time, divers from all over Italy come to pay a visit to the Holy Family at Christmas. The Emerald Grotto can only be visited on a boat. After walking down a long, panoramic stairway we took a 20-passenger rowboat to be given a tour of the famous location. Some of the photos I took with my phone are really beautiful and I may, at some point, have them enlarged and framed.

We needed another refreshment stop after the climb back up that staircase and our guide had a great one at Gargiulo & Jannuzzi for a tasting of a local olive oil brand. From the love for the land is born Frantoio Gargiulo , which for more than a century has dedicated itself to the production of extra virgin olive oil, keeping alive ancient traditions handed down for generations. Goodness that was good olive oil. Certainly on par with what I tasted in Crete. And they had an absolutely delicious balsamic vinegar to go with it. Er … yes … I got a bottle of both despite the fact I was becoming weighted down. I stored it in the bus and it wasn’t until we got back to the ship and I had to go through security that I realized I looked nearly ridiculous trying to carry it all.

We needed that round of refreshments as our next stop was Pompeii. Yes, I said Pompeii. As in THE Pompeii. It decided to rain during the first part of our guided tour but that didn’t stop any of us from being thoroughly awestruck. To make things even more chaotic our guide tried to lead two tour groups at one time and I finally told her that our group would take a self-guided tour and meet her back at the bus. Since the other group was a rather well to do bunch that was older, I could tell she was relieved after I assured her that it was not a problem and that we would be timely.

I downloaded a self-guiding tour when I first received our Italian itinerary and I’m glad I did. One of those “better safe than sorry” time-waste prep items that I often don’t need; however, this time I did. There were nine regions to the included map and following it we could have been there all day, but we only had three hours. I still tried to hit the highlights, even in the rain.

The Basilica stands on the left-hand side of a large square, which has the Forum at its center. It is the oldest Roman Basilica ever discovered and has stood here since the 2nd century BC. This was one of Pompei’s most important buildings, housing the town’s law courts, as well as halls for commercial and financial transactions. The main entrance was located on one of the building’s two short sides, behind a portico. The portico contains 28 columns, which are made of cut tiles. There is some debate over whether these thick columns held a complete roof, or whether the center of the building was open to the elements. It was impressive as a ruin, I am hard put to imagine what it would be before the explosion that destroyed Pompeii in 79 AD.

The Temple of Apollo stands next to the Forum in what archaeologists describe as the historic heart of Pompei. It is thought to have been the most important religious building in the city for much of its history. The cult of Apollo, a Greek congregation who worshipped Apollo, drew a great many followers from the 6th century BC onwards.

The Forum Granary is also situated near the Forum and the Temple of Jupiter, and initially it was a grain and product market. Now, it’s used as a storage of artifacts, including large number of amphorae, carts, pottery, clay ware and many petrified victims, among which there is a pig and a dog. This building had many shops and storage rooms and probably wasn’t finished by the time of the catastrophic eruption.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 150 - Part 2

The Macellum of Pompei was built alongside the Forum, in order to provide further space for the city’s growing central market. The existing building was constructed in approximately 130 BC, replacing the original macellum building. Built around a central courtyard, the north and south sides both hold twelve separate units for the sale of foodstuffs. The Macellum had three entrances – the southern entrance is notable for the checkerboard patterned wall adjacent to it. It is considered to be the finest quality wall constructed during the Roman era of Pompei. At the back of the market, there is a mysterious room, which was used as a shrine. There has been much debate over the paintings and statues found there. The latest and most widely accepted theory is that they depict Emperor Augustus Caesar, as well as local figures that commanded respect within the town.

The Forum, a feature present in many Roman settlements and central to many other buildings, was a public space found at the center of Pompei. It stands in the middle of a square, which contains several of the town’s most significant buildings. But all things made by man eventually come to an end. Now a square of grass, the Forum area appears to have undergone many changes during the history of Pompei. Prior to the earthquake in 62 AD, the floor was receiving an upgrade – it is still partially paved with travertine. It is thought that a market was held in the middle of the open space. There are also a number of marble bases missing the statues that should sit upon them, and a half finished suggestum – the Roman equivalent of a soapbox for public speaking.

The Forum Baths are one of four bath houses discovered in the ruined city of Pompei. Along with the Central, Stabian and Suburban Baths, they give a fascinating insight into the importance of public baths in Roman life. With little in the way of bathing facilities found inside private dwellings, it appears that bathing in these buildings would have been a daily ritual for many citizens. The Forum Baths were not the largest or most decorated in the city, but survived the 62 AD earthquake relatively unscathed, and as a result were the only baths still in use when the city was destroyed. I asked the students if they could imagine bathing the way the Romans did and many of them giggled in embarrassment. I’ve seen other ruins in my travels but the baths of Pompeii overshadowed them all.

Pompei’s largest bakery is located in the Vicolo Storto area, a market place area similar to the Forum, which is also known for housing the only known brothel in the city. Boy didn’t some of the students get another embarrassed giggle out of that. The building is one of a remarkable thirty five mills and bakeries discovered in the ruins of Pompei; by contrast, no other sufficiently preserved Roman bakeries have been recovered anywhere else in the world. An amazing fact. It is thought that the majority of citizens would have travelled to bakeries to collect bread, as there was no facility to bake it at home. The machinery used to produce bread here consists of millstones, formed from igneous rock, which were turned by mules or donkeys, grinding grains that fell through an hourglass-shaped funnel and through the millstones. It has been suggested that whilst this appears a fairly primitive method, there may been improved techniques in operation within larger cities such as Rome and Naples. The mills of Rome – which was part of the curriculum I used with the Bairds – were hard places to work. Apuleius, a Roman author, recorded the hardships of the women, slaves and animals that were put to work in bakeries. The playwright Plautus himself worked in a bakery at one time, and wrote about the struggles of life in the mill. Aiden surprised me by recounting much of that lesson from memory.

The House of the Golden Cupids was first excavated between 1903 and 1905. It is situated on the via del Vesuvio, and is believed to have been owned by Gnaeus Poppaeus Habitus, a wealthy local figure. Hidden behind an unremarkable façade, the house is renowned for several ornate third-style artworks discovered on its walls. Dating from the end of the reign of Augustus Caesar, the third style is defined by delicate, colorful frescoes, influenced by Egyptian art. The walls of the house feature a number of red and yellow panels with elaborate paintings at their center. In the atrium, the only surviving panel is a fresco of Helen and Paris meeting at Sparta. The exedra, an alcove off to one side of the atrium, features a number of large panels depicting scenes from Roman life. Both the exedra and tablinum, or main living room, have what would have been fine mosaics on their floors. They are still stunning despite age and destruction by time, so I can just imagine what they would have looked like in their prime. The building gained its name from two glass discs, found in a cubiculum, with cherubs etched onto them. Many of the rooms also feature frescoes on their ceilings, making the house one of the most heavily decorated in the city. Or at least what remains of the city. With the near total destruction of Pompeii it may very well be that other buildings were even more ornate.

The Central Baths are located on the corner of two main streets in Pompei – via Stabiana and via di Nola. They were built as part of the city’s regeneration plans following the earthquake of AD 62 – a precursor of the volcanic explosion of 79 AD. The relative “modernity” of the building is shown in the use of skylights and a larger outdoor gymnasium – hallmarks of later Roman bathhouses. The baths were designed with many of the features found in most Roman bathhouses. They included a large central palaestra, with an adjacent apodyterium for changing and relaxing. The bathing rooms themselves consisted of a lukewarm pool (tepidarium) and two hot baths in the caldarium. One unusual feature was the laconicum, a room with an intense, dry heat – similar to the modern saunas thought to have originated in Scandinavia.

The Stabian Baths are the oldest bath complex discovered in Pompei. Covering 3500 square meters, they are also the largest in the city. Like the nearby Forum Baths, they are divided into men’s and women’s facilities. The two newer baths in Pompei, the Central and Suburban Baths, both had one large changing facility. At the entrance to the baths, there is a courtyard, which would have been used as a gymnasium. The yard is surrounded on three sides by colonnades, with a 1.5 meter deep swimming pool on the other side. A door in the right-hand corner of the longest colonnade leads to the men’s bath house. The frigidarium, a room for cold bathing, is round, with four corner niches and the bath in the center. This is the only room for which there is not an equivalent in the women’s section.

The Lupanar is the largest brothel within Pompei. I know I will likely get a few emails from parents over this one. While it has been established that prostitution was in existence during the Roman era, there has been some debate over the prevalence of brothels in a settlement like Pompei. A number of homes and bath houses in the city featured erotic artworks on their walls. That I am sure will be the highlight of several parental emails. Early excavators initially believed any building with erotic frescoes to have been a brothel. When thirty-five buildings with erotic artworks were discovered, it became apparent this couldn’t be the case. Further investigation has led experts to suggest that the Lupanar was the largest of ten brothels in the city, with many of the others single room establishments. The Lupanar has ten rooms, all plainly decorated, with brick platforms serving as beds. It is thought that brothels were mainly frequented by ordinary townspeople, rather than rich or well-known figures. Graffiti found on the walls gives an insight into the activities that went on here. The term ‘lupanar’ is derogatory towards prostitutes – it means ‘house of the she-wolves’, a nickname given to prostitutes, who were considered predatory in Roman times.

The Temple of Isis is a small Roman temple, though unusually, it is a place of worship for an Egyptian goddess. Isis was worshipped in Ancient Egypt as a form of universal mother goddess, benevolent to all in Egyptian society. She became worshipped by many Roman communities, like Pompei, which had strong trade links with Egypt. One of the first buildings discovered in the excavation of 1764, its origins were revealed upon the discovery of an inscription one year later.

The Quadriporticus is a large four-sided courtyard, flanked by colonnaded buildings. There is some uncertainty over the function of the buildings here, although it is known that portions of the complex were used as barracks for the town’s gladiators. The courtyard was also used by the gladiators for training exercises, and was located immediately next to the Great Theatre, where gladiatorial games were held regularly. It is shown in an ancient painting, now housed in Naples’ National Archaeological Museum, with a swimming pool in the center of the courtyard. Gladiatorial games are one of the most notorious rituals of ancient Rome. Graffiti carved by the gladiators in the columns of the Quadriporticus hint at public opposition to the violent games they took part in – and even call for wider condemnation. A large quantity of gladiatorial armor was also found at this site, including helmets, belts and shoulder protectors.

Pompei’s theater was known as the Large Theatre during its use, to differentiate it from the Odeion, a nearby arena. The theater was built in the 2nd century BC in the style of ancient Greek amphitheaters. Set in a natural indentation in the land, the theatre features tiered stone seating on sloping sides, leading to a central horseshoe shaped performance area. During the reign of Augustus Caesar the theater reached its peak. Following the earthquake in 62AD the theater was damaged, and its marble was removed. The stage had to be rebuilt, and a grand façade was added, complete with columns and statues. The Large Theatre could host 5000 people within segregated seating areas. Now open to the elements, the theater was at the time covered by a large canopy, protecting the audience from the Mediterranean sun.

The House of Menander is a large villa built in the Classical Greek style. An unusually large property so close to public amenities, it is believed that the owner, who remains a mystery, may have been one of Pompei’s wealthiest residents. It is notable for the large columns in the peristyle, a hallmark of the Doric style of classical architecture. It is also entirely possible that the owner was a tourist, and the house is a very early version of the modern holiday home. Tourism played a major part in Pompei’s development – the Greek influence on architecture stemmed from Greeks visiting the city from the 6th century, while residents of Rome would visit Pompei in summer due to its hot Mediterranean climate. The house features a number of intricate frescoes, including, in a niche on the peristyle wall, an image of Menander, the Ancient Greek dramatist. He is pictured seated and reading, against a red and yellow background typical of artworks in many wealthy homes in Pompei. A neat slogan, of the type for which Menander was renowned is inscribed, in the atrium by the owner – it simply says ‘welcome, money’. That caused a few chuckles by the students.

The House of Julius Polybius is located on the north side of the Via dell’ Abbondanza. Only fully excavated in 1978, it has two entrances from the street which lead into two separate parts of the house. The western side, which once had an upper story but is disconnected from the peristyle at the centre of the house, is believed to have been used as servants’ quarters. The eastern side was used by the owner, named in an elaborate fresco as C. Julius Polybius. The house features artworks in a number of different styles, which suggest the building was redeveloped during its history. Rooms to the east of the atrium are decorated in the first and second styles, but these paintings had been covered over with plaster, suggesting the rooms were only used for storage. Think of it as renovations the same way modern homes are changed over time. Rooms around the peristyle are decorated in the later third and fourth styles, and the art works here are much better preserved. The building has a number of rooms on its eastern side, including a master suite separate from the main triclinium. The House of the Vettii has a similar side room, believed to be reserved for more intimate gatherings with friends and family. A number of artifacts were unearthed in the triclinium, including a bronze statue of Apollo, and a number of lamps and drinking vessels, also cast in bronze.

The Great Palaestra is a large rectangular building, flanked by porticoes on three sides, with a pool at its center. Like many buildings in the city, it was commissioned under the empire of Augustus Caesar. It was used as an exercise complex by the youth associations which he set up, a Roman version of the youth branches of political parties we still see today. There was even a room in the center of the western portico set aside for worship of the emperor. Typical politician if I might say so. Behind the portico, a double row of sycamore trees provided a shaded area for attendees to relax and unwind. The tree roots have been recreated with plaster casts. Like many natural organisms, from plant life to human beings, the roots were buried under the ash layers left by the deadly volcanic eruption and decomposed. This left behind air pockets which were filled with plaster, creating exact replicas of the tree roots. At the time of the eruption in 79 AD the eastern portals and north wall were being restored, having been damaged in the earthquake of 62 AD. The complex even had toilet facilities – a latrine, served by water carried from the pool, can be seen on the south side of the building.

The House of the Venus Marina is a domus horne – a dwelling designed for a single family. It is typical of the more conventional dwellings found in Pompei, alongside the larger, more heavily decorated villas owned by the wealthy. More compact and understated than the other notable houses found in Pompei, it is still centered around an atrium and peristyle. This suggests that these features were present in all Roman architecture, and not reserved for the wealthy alone. The house has earned its name from the spectacular fresco found on the rear wall of the peristyle. It depicts Venus, the Goddess of Love, in an aquatic scene. Reclining on an oyster shell, she is pictured wearing jewelry and a shawl, and has golden curled hair. On either side of Venus, Cupid and a Nereid on a dolphin are pictured. This version of Venus, as an aquatic creature, was widely worshipped in Pompei. Described as the ‘protectress of Pompei’ in inscriptions found elsewhere in the city, it is perhaps ironic that, while much of Pompei was destroyed, her likeness has survived almost entirely intact.

The Pompei Amphitheatre is the oldest building of its kind to have survived from the Roman era. The Amphitheatre, one of Pompei’s most well-known attractions, predates the Coliseum in Rome by over a century. It is believed that the success of the Pompei Amphitheatre, the first stone arena built within the Roman Empire, was the inspiration for a larger stone-built arena in Rome itself. A circular structure with arches and stairways creating several entrance points, the Amphitheatre is still considered by crowd control analysts to be a near perfectly designed venue. Built around 70 BC, it was initially known as the Spectacula. Twenty years before the eruption that destroyed Pompei, games were banned at the Amphitheatre, following a brawl between locals and residents of nearby Nuceria. A fact the students found interesting is that the UK progressive rock band Pink Floyd became the first people for almost two thousand years to perform at the arena, filming a live concert there.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 150 - Part 3

Of course there were many other houses and businesses we could have touched on in the ruins but it was time to go and especially so as I watched the thunderheads building in the direction that I knew our ship was in. It had been a while since we had faced rough weather, but it looked like we were in for some nasty weather. I wasn’t sure if we were even going to be able to leave port on time … or leave port at all.

I hustled everyone back to the bus and in fact were there before our guide could shed herself of the groups she had been taking around rather than us. Finally the bus was moving despite the large crowds making a break for it themselves and we got back to the pier and on the ship with only moments to spare before the sky opened up.

I felt too much like a pack mule (and looked like a wet, bedraggled pack mule) so before going to security to fill out my daily report I carried my packages to our cabin. I was in such a good mood – Pompeii had been the icing on the cake that day – and then I walked into Vit’s mood, nearly physically.

“Oomph,” I said as we both tried to enter and exit at the same time.

“So, you finally decide to see me first.”

“Uh …”

“You will do what you will. I need receipts for your purchases.”

“I already sent them via the scan app directly to your phone,” I responded, nearly cross-eyed at his unexpected tone. “And I got this for us … limoncello and balsamic for when we want to …”

“You … you did?”

“Yes. And I just got back on the ship. I thought you would still be on your shift or I would have texted to let you know.”

“Er … it was cut short. Human Resources.”

I snorted. “Then maybe they are good for something. You are getting dark smudges under your eyes and you haven’t done that since you worked that barge for Dev. Which by the way I don’t want to see happen again. We’ll stay in and …”

“Nii. I will take you to dinner.”

“Vit …”

“Veta …”

“Grrr.”

“You need to make your report if you have just come aboard.”

“Grrrrrrrr. You are not getting out of this Vit. You need some rest.”

“We will … speak when you have returned. You … will return to the cabin?”

“If that is where you are going to be then yes. Or I can meet you somewhere else.”

“Nii. Here.”

I hurried off to file my report which I’d started already because we had some much time on the bus today, and then turned it into Polina who asked for a moment of my time.

“A word of warning Little Sister.”

“What now?” I nearly whined.

She smirked a bit. “Perhaps I am too late but you look ready to face it.”

“I’m running into something but count me clueless and just tell me,” I asked as nicely as I could but still managed to make Polina laugh for some reason. She later told me I had a tad bit of shark in my “polite” smile.

“Very well. In a word Parnell.”

“Oh … er … dear. Him or someone else or …” I sighed in resignation. “Just tell me.”

Apparently he and his wife had a spirited discussion. She did not trust him. She was jealous. She did not understand him. The ‘discussion’ was overheard.”

“Oh my lord. He did not bring my name up. Please say he did not bring my name up. Please say that someone was not ever so helpful and took it to Vit.”

“Parnell did not. His wife did.” I blanched completely sick to my stomach. “Parnell did not deny it.”

“You know if I did not like his wife so much I would toss Parnell overboard. AND whomever was ever so kind to run and tell the story to Vit.”

“So you are not amused?”

“Amused?! I’m embarrassed to death. And to think someone would bother Vit is just … is just … ARGH! He works so hard and then has to put up with that ever loving musor! Meni tse treba yak zuby v dupi. I’ll tell that little zhopa exactly what he can …”

“Veta!” I jumped a mile despite being in the middle of a tantrum as I had not heard Vit open the door. He stood there with his mouth hanging open. Mine was hanging open on even more curses that I wanted to rain down on Parnell and his wife. Vit wasn’t the only one staring at me in surprise. Nearly everyone in security was looking my way and blinking.

“What is everyone staring at?” I growled. The sound of shuffling paper and people quickly going back to their work met my question.

Polina was still smiling and said, “I did not mean to make you elude your religion Veta, only apprise you of a potential problem.”

“It’s been a ‘potential problem’ for months. I’ve done everything I know except for direct confrontation to redirect that man into a healthier outlook. I’m sorry for his wife but this must stop.”

“I agree,” Polina says continuing to grin. “He and his wife are now in counseling. So long as they handled their peculiarities in private I allowed that they had the right to deal with it themselves. However, they have pushed the boundaries too far. This will be the end of it … or further action will be taken. Perhaps you and Vit should go unclog the air” The way she said it should have brought me some comfort but I was too busy trying to reign in my Cossack temper that I so rarely allow out. However I glanced at Vit and saw he was grimacing.

“What? Why?!” I asked.

“We will discuss it in the cabin,” he answered giving Polina a suspiciously ice-cold glare.

I wrapped my “Ice Queen” persona around me both to protect myself and to protect those around me from the molten words that wanted to fall out of my mouth. Vit has rarely witnessed this side of me but he has seen it a time or two and recognized I was in the middle of trying to behave like something other than someone with a Shashka where their tongue should be.

“That is over with. Let us go to dinner.”

“Nii,” I responded like a sulky child.

“Tak.”

“Nii.”

“Tak. You will feel better with at least something in your stomach.”

“I will puke if I eat.”

“Nii. We will eat slow.”

“Nii. People will be staring.”

“Let them stare. You are beautiful.”

We were stopping by our cabin so that I could change. As soon as the door shut my temper burst free again. “How dare …” Nothing I said made much sense as it was a combination of nearly every language I know and some I think I was making up as I went along. Most of it cursing the likes of which Momma would have sent me to the nuns for, cursing like I’ve never done before. I felt positively volcanic, like the eruption that destroyed Pompeii. I know a lot of it was suppressed emotion but at the same time I simply let go and let fly for the first time in forever, and never like this, and never like this in front of Vit.

I finally wound down. Vit was pale when he asked, “Is this at me for … for allowing words to bother me?”

“Nii. At least I don’t think so. Nii. It is not. Definitely not. Just how dare they come to you with such stories?!” And I was off again only somehow it got rather turned around and Vit started calling me among other things his Valkyrie and … and you can guess why he now has the whapped-in-the-face-with-a-frozen-fish look and sleeps the sleep of the exhausted.

I feel a complete fool. My anger is mostly over though I could probably easily stoke it if I myself weren’t so tired … and more mildly inebriated than I normally get. What is in this limoncello? To make matters worse tomorrow is supposed to be a real barn-burner of a day as we are in Rome. Maybe while I am there I should go to Confession. I probably cursed more today than the sum total of my entire life. And I suspect this is only part of the problems I have sensed between Vit and I. I’d love to believe we’ve “unclogged the air” but I don’t. That he could even entertain that what he’d heard was … no, I will not allow myself to get wound up again. But soon, very soon, Vit and I need to sit down and have a serious discussion. I need to know where I stand. I need to know why … no, I said I wouldn’t get wound up again and I mean it. I will go take a shower and then get some sleep. I pray tomorrow is better than this mess I feel I’ve only partially dealt with today.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 151: Jun 13 – Rome (Civitavecchia), Italy

A happy Vit this morning. He told me to no longer worry about Mr. Parnell and that if anything continued to be said he would put a stop to it. While grateful, I’m not sure I want it to go in that direction. I’m hoping that the counseling Parnell and his wife receive will not just end my embarrassment but will really do something good for them. I feel a little “hung over” from my emotional outburst yesterday. I don’t like cutting loose like that. I don’t think it is healthy. Maybe I should not tamp down my feelings so much, but I also do not think it is entirely brilliant to as it were let it all hang out either.

For instance, as happy as I was that Vit was happy I was stressing and trying not to show it. And yet … I wanted him to notice and comment so that I would have an excuse to tell him why. Now does that make any sense at all? Honestly I wonder at myself at times. I needed reassurance that I was not over reacting but at the same time I knew I was really the one that should have the assurance if I was going to truly fulfill my position has Lead of the security personnel on the student excursions. I felt like a walking oxymoron all day.

This has not been at all like my previous experience of Rome. We hit some of the highlights but part of me wondered why come at all if you couldn’t really “do” Rome. Of course that was just the jaded me thinking. I’m becoming spoiled I think. The reason for my elevated stress level is because I was uncomfortable at how they broke the student groups down into so many small groups. It seemed like an accident waiting to happen with too many opportunities for mishaps. As I came to understand, it wasn’t security’s preference either but too many of the diplomats objected to the religious overtones of the Vatican being included. No one was asking any student to convert and memorize the catechism for Heaven’s sake. And there hasn’t been much if any objection to religious sites before except by a vocal few and they are no longer part of the mission. The idea of the Vatican may simply have overloaded a few of the families’ forbearance, at least I hope that was all it was. If not I am in some hot water.

I wound up gathering some of the groups into mine during the day as the paparazzi was just too much for some of the tour guides and chaperones. I suspect some of the paparazzi may have even bribed the local guides to let them in on when and where the student groups were going to appear.

I must admit that even I had some strange feelings of being watched today. It could have been how busy the city was. It could have been other worries I was having. It could even have been my concern for Al and Edda as this was the first time back to Rome after their mother’s passing. I’m not sure but I mentioned it to Polina without putting it in my report because in all honesty I’m not sure if it was my imagination or not.

At my own insistence Aiden, Al, and Edda were in my group from the beginning. I wanted to judge their level of grief in case I needed to do or say something. While I may not solely be on Mr. Baird’s payroll these days, part of me feels that I owe it to Mrs. Baird’s kindness to me to look after her children. I was quite shocked however when Edda told me that she hasn’t seen anyone on the maternal side of her family since her mother’s funeral, and rarely even hears from them. She isn’t heartbroken about it as she has always felt more accepted by her adoptive father than she was ever accepted in her biological family. The simplicity of her acceptance of the situation is heartbreaking to me. While I can imagine such happening, I’m not sure I could stand the reality in my own family.

This is how the day started. Our bus driver picked us up from the pier in Civitavecchia and drove us the hour it took to get to the site of the Colosseum where we dispersed into small groups. My neck was sore from the tension I was experiencing even before I put my feet on the concrete. You know the feeling, the pain that makes you wonder if it is your tendon or you have a carotid artery blocked and a stroke is in your near future.

At the Colosseum is where we met our guide. After admiring the impeccably preserved Arch of Constantine, we moved onto the Coliseum itself. The grandest, and most well-known amphitheater in the world was just as impressive the next time around as it was the first. But I must admit not as pleasant. Al told the others of my time as their tutor and they wound up asking me as many questions as they did the guide. But it was hard to focus on the questions as there were a few looking at us in hostility. Some of it was likely because of the extra attention our groups were being shown. The “if you don’t have to wait in like why do I” type of hostility; normal hostility you experience in a crowded location. Then there was the hostility of the paparazzi types as they were kept at bay while some people with “Media Representative” were allowed to get closer and again it was a “something isn’t fair” type of hostility. But there was other hostility; anarchists, antifa, local political groups, immigrant groups, etc.

Placards were waived, shouts could be heard, foul language used though I doubt the students understood most of it. They understood the intent however but had been warned ahead of time not to pay any attention to protestors, not to engage, not even by eye contact. They were to act as if those groups didn’t even exist. That was the easy part and the students had it down to a science. We used the example of a high school student that had gone to DC, and despite his best intentions he’d been used by protestors and media alike and his entire future had been tainted regardless of the money he’d earned in court against the big media companies. Best to not interact at all and allow the adults to protect them. So we did but my worry escalated when I saw how ill-equipped some of the other group leaders were to combat the hostilities being turned their way.

From the Colosseum we walked in the footsteps of Roman Emperors through the Roman Forum. Our guide was quite the character and with his explanations it was quite easy to imagine their triumphal processions and public speeches. In a sense the groups around us added to the understanding of what it would have been like back then. The Arch of Titus gave us the perfect introduction to the panoramic hill of The Palatine. The ancient legend says that Romulus founded Rome on this hill in 753 B.C. Following his actions, the Emperors built here their opulent homes all around that hill. Our small group spent two and a half hours in that area but it wasn’t long afterwards that I started gathering the other groups into ours. From the hills and high places we could see, and sometimes hear, protestors. Our guide was good about keeping the students from dwelling too long on those groups, I use my own skills to make sure his talents went even farther

From the Palatine Hill area we walked to the Trevi Fountain. It was not a short walk and that is when I started gathering groups and telling the paparazzi that were harassing them to go to the back of the line where our own media would disseminate information to them. No, they weren’t pleased, but with local law enforcement starting to follow us as well, they couldn’t say much. The Trevi Fountain, perhaps the most spectacular fountain in Rome, was built at the end of one of the famed aqueducts that supplied the Roman empire with water. This iconic setting attracts many visitors. It was so crowded we were there only long enough to take a picture and allow the students to toss a coin into its waters to ensure a safe return to Rome at some stage in the future. Some of the pictures that our media people took are sure to be keepsakes. Vit snagged a copy of a picture of me, in full uniform, watching over our groups. Good Lord it looked a bit like something from WW2. I’m praying whoever came up with the idea to use it as propaganda for the Peace Mission changes their mind. I have no desire to fulfill that particular model. I just want to do my job without all the fanfare some people try to apply.

Not far away from the Fountain we took a moment for more pictures at the Spanish Steps, and this is where I gathered another of our groups. The Spanish Steps is one of the biggest tourist spots in the city. It was difficult to imagine how they were ever able to complete it when they were built back in 1723. The reason for the name is that the stairs were built above what was the Spanish Embassy, so the stairs were used to gain access to that area.

At the Pantheon is where I gathered the last of our groups. Two guides left in a huff but the rest, perhaps realizing I was not going to allow the paparazzi to have the upper hand. We all fell in together and turned things almost into a party like atmosphere. I made sure that those guides that cooperated received a good bonus and we also took care of them at the food stops as we walked through the day.

The Pantheon is a true masterpiece of Rome. Immaculately preserved and seemingly just a few centuries old, it is difficult to believe that the structure was finished in AD 128 by Emperor Hadrian. Hadrian was the same emperor that decreed that a wall be built in the furthest Roman territory … Great Britain … as a defensive fortification against the Picts and ancient Britons. In the square in front - a gathering place for locals – the students discovered a decorative 16th century fountain sitting beneath the Egyptian obelisk.

Next stop was the Piazza Navona, a place no trip to Rome is complete without a visit. The space is incredibly popular among tourists for one primary reason: Bernini’s “Fountain of the Four Rivers.” Built to represent The Nile, The Ganges, The Danube and Rio de la Plata, the structure now sits amidst the artists who arrive to peddle their wares on a daily basis. We weren’t there long as the openness of the venue made it far too easy for the protest groups to get closer to the students. We did have one protestor try to hurl something … a rock about the size of a softball. Veta made a spectacle of herself, and pardon speaking in the 3rd person but it truly was ridiculous.

I wasn’t sure what the object was it was happening so quickly and instinct took over. I love my baton. It doesn’t make me feel invincible or anything silly like that but it does give me a feeling as if it is an extension of my krav maga moves. All I did was snap open the baton and use it like a bat to knock the object away so it wouldn’t hit the student right in its path. Well somehow or other I made the rock fly the reverse of its original course and … hmmm … karma or something similar happened because the thrower stood the spot wanting to see the damage they caused. The idiot didn’t even move, perhaps too surprised to do so, and the rock smashed him in the mouth quite forcefully. Or so was reported because I was not waiting around to see how many idiots there were in the crowd. I hustled everyone, including our guides who I viewed as under our protection, forward and threw the gate into the Vatican City.

From quite a few places the strangely dressed Vatican Guards, more properly known as the Pontifical Swiss Guard, rushed and surrounded us and blocked the gate. It looked like a scene from some Renaissance period play featuring rent-a-cops and mercenaries with both ancient and modern weapons. The gate was guarded by men dressed in blue, red, and orange stripes from head to toe baggy trousers and tunics, wearing morian helmets, holding both long ceremonial spears and a modern arsenal of automatic weapons. It. Was. Surreal.

It only took ten minutes for the protestors to clear out when they realized one of their number had stepped way over the line. Way over. That one was being pursued by the Italian military and civilian crowd control personnel. As soon as it was ascertained none of us had been injured there was some question whether to send us back to the ship or not or send for more security personnel from the B.

“Nonsense,” I told people brusquely. “The Vatican has opened their doors for these students especially. We’ll not insult the Pontiff’s hospitality, nor insult the Italian people’s ability to deal with a protestor that broke Italian law. We leave it in their more than capable hands.”

Polina said I will make a good politician someday. What I replied to that was quite rude but had Polina nearly falling down with laughter and clapping from some of the other security personnel who’d been forced to learn diplomacy as well … and despise the necessity of it when they had to use it themselves.

We were thirty minutes late – which cut short the shopping that I’d promised the students and chaperones back in the duty-free shops on the pier – but finally we started our guided tour of The Vatican. The Vatican Museums were overflowing with masterpieces by many of Italy’s most important Italian artists. Giotto, Bernini, Caravaggio, Raphael, Botticelli, Perugino, Pinturicchio and many others sit alongside important works from Ancient Greece, Rome and Egypt. We walked through famous galleries such as the tapestries and maps ones. Both were every bit as gorgeous as the paintings were. The Sistine Chapel, with its enormous Michelangelo’s frescoes, was a bit of a let down for some but as I’d been expecting it to be what it was, I was able to enjoy it a bit more than I had during my other visit with the Bairds. The “Last Judgment” stood out particularly to me for some reason. Our guides then took us directly from the Sistine Chapel into St. Peter’s Basilica, the world’s largest Church, to admire Michelangelo’s “Pietà” and the other highlights to be found there. “Pieta” once again brought tears to my eyes and it was not until I got back on the ship that I found out that Vit had procured me a small, alabaster replica of the artwork. He says we can put the volcanic “Last Supper” and the alabaster “Pieta” in a case he will make for them.

You would think we would talk about our future home with more regularity, especially with our tour of duty ending in the not distant future. But not. And when Vit does speak of it my heart seems a little more sure than it is at other times.

We were picked up right outside the Vatican gate and I was surprised to find that someone had thought to send along boxed meals, with enough to cover all chaperones, remaining guides, as well as our bus driver who seemed grateful for the thought. Turns out one of our chaperones has a father that owns a cantina of sorts in Rome. Yes, her father got a bonus but the students needed to eat and I was not liking the odds that it would happen without incident. She got approval ahead of time so I’m not going to quibble. Sometimes it is good to have friends.

I’m exhausted but still really pleased because Vit surprised me by arranging for us to be together tomorrow on an excursion our of the port of Livorno. We are going to Florence and Pisa. It has been a while but I will say it once again. Bucket list! Bucket list! Bucket list!

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 152: Jun 14 – Florence/Pisa (Livorno), Italy (Sunday) - Part 1

What a lovely day it has been. Technically a day off though I was on-call as it were. I didn’t have to stay on the ship translating documents (thank you HR). And Vit and I could act as a couple on a treat and not as two personnel trying not to display TMI. I think the day was good for Vit as well. He certainly seemed to enjoy the treat he arranged for me … and some of the XOs and their SOs. Them I could have done without but there were also enough other people part of the excursion group that the SOs could not display quite their former level of cattiness that their partners were oblivious to.

It was an hour bus ride from Livorno (our port) to Florence, Italy. But oh my goodness, just getting there was a treat as the land we drove through was covered in vineyards and orchards. The area is commonly called Tuscany. The Tuscan area was inhabited by peoples of the so-called Apennine culture in roughly 1400–1150 BC who had trading relationships with the Minoan and Mycenaean civilizations. A little later in the Bronze Age, 1100 – 900 BC, by people called the Proto-Villanovan culture. Then came the Iron Age where the Etruscan civilization enters the picture. The Etruscans fell to the Romans around 100 BC who then remained in control until around 500 AD. Between that point and the Medieval period, the Ostrogoth and the Visigoth barbarians controlled the region. To open the first seven or so decades of the Medieval period it was the Byzantine emperor Justinian and after that the Lombards and eventually the de Medici family had a hand in every pot up to and including when Catherine de Medici married Henry II of France in 1533. After that? The Black Death nearly wiped the slate clean to start all over again.

We were just finished with that bit of history when our guide told us to look out our window. Florence in all its glory.

Presiding over the city of Florence, the Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral is a Renaissance masterpiece renowned for its masonry dome, the largest in the world. Our walking tour guide explained that the dome was completed in 1465, and is a double-shell dome and is entirely self-supporting. On the inside, it carries the “Dante and the Divine Comedy” painting by Domenico di Michelino, which is particularly interesting since, apart from depicting the Divine Comedy scenes, it also shows images of 15th century Florence and, as such, is considered one of the most valuable artifacts in the cathedral. It is a bit like having photographs from that time period.

The building itself is the product of almost 170 years of sheer hard labor. The Gothic-style structure was built in 1296, although it wasn't until 1420 that the true identity of the cathedral was found, courtesy of architect Filippo Brunelleschi who was commissioned to the project after many other architects had given up on it. Brunelleschi looked for engineering solutions to the great dome of Pantheon in Rome but also relied on his own intuition and practical experiments with the large-scale models that he built. To lift 37,000 tons of material, including over 4 million bricks, he invented machines for hoisting large stones. Fascinated with this machinery, the then young apprentice, Leonardo da Vinci, made a series of sketches for which in later periods for people to think he invented the systems. Not true and da Vinci never claimed credit either. Today, a huge statue of Brunelleschi is set firmly in the piazza before the cathedral thoughtfully observing his greatest achievement that has since dominated the skyline of Florence.

Whatever time of day, the cathedral and the surrounding square is always full of people, queuing outside to climb the bell tower, or those anxious to admire the Renaissance frescoes of the dome or the colorful marble flooring inside. As to the mixture of marbles outside, it is just as outstanding and represents a unique combination that looks just like paint, whereas in fact, it's a piece of rock art. Vit insisted on buying one of every post card he saw, only interrupted when he friend from the O’Meg showed up letting the cat out of the bag that it was Vit that had arranged for our guide and other activities for the day. Apparently there had been a discussion on Dante during one of the evenings that Vit was off with the XOs. And that is what he asked his friend to base our excursion on.

Paintings really do tell a thousand words and in Michelino's one on the wall of the Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral, you get to dive into the world of Dante. However, to see it up close you first must climb about 450 steps through narrow and spiraling stairs. It is not a continuous climb as the first part levels out at about a third of the way up, circumnavigating the inside of the dome. What a rush that climb was. Thank goodness I have intentionally stayed in shape or I would have been as breathless as some of the other excursion members by the time we reached the top. The 3 frescoes alongside the left nave of the cathedral: Dante Before the City of Florence by Domenico di Michelino (1465) which is especially interesting because it shows us, apart from scenes of the Divine Comedy, a view on Florence in 1465, a Florence such as Dante himself could not have seen in his time; the Funerary Monument to Sir John Hawkwood by Paolo Uccello (1436, the one on the left below) and the Equestrian statue of Niccolò da Tolentino by Andrea del Castagno (1456, the one on the right).

Next on our Dante tour was Giotto's Bell Tower (Campanile di Giotto). The famous Bell Tower of Giotto is a free-standing belfry belonging to the Santa Maria del Fiore Cathedral in Florence, designed by the great Giotto Di Bondone to whom it owes its name. Standing 85 meters high, this tower is one of the showpieces of Florentine Gothic architecture, lavishly embellished with sculptural decorations and polychrome marble encrustations. Unfortunately, Giotto passed away during the construction, so the project had to be completed by two other architects. Giotto, apart from being a pillar of the Italian Renaissance architecture, also went down in history as a talented painter and sculptor, whose legacy is particularly visible in the pictorial and refined covering in white, green and red marble here, much as in the grandiose figurative cycle within the belfry that he had left unfinished.

Exploring the tower inside is possible which is exactly what we did. Moreover, of all the three major high-standing architectural attractions in Florence, climbing this one is arguably the easiest. Despite the somewhat intimidating number of steps – 414, the staircase is laid out in such a way that it allows some rest stoppages. Each level within the tower houses a large bell, seven in total – one for each musical note. Unlike the Duomo Cathedral and the Arnolfo Tower in the Palazzo Vecchio – the resting areas within the Giotto Tower are quite spacious and entertaining, affording visitors the diverse and quite remarkable views over the city down below. From the very top, one can observe the Cathedral's dome and Baptistery of San Giovanni at a totally different and somewhat unusual angle, plus enjoy a sweeping view of Florence complete with its alleys and rooftops that have changed very little over the past 500 years.

The Dante House-Museum (Casa di Dante) came next. Found in the heart of medieval Florence, Casa di Dante or the Dante House-Museum is a 20th-century building set on the site – as the records suggest – of a very probable location of the Alighieri family house, the birthplace of one Italy's most cherished poets, Dante Alighieri. Spread across three floors, the museum displays, among other artifacts, some of the most important works of Dante, illustrative of major milestones in his life. The ground floor is dedicated to Dante's early years, while the first floor showcases documents related to his exile in 1301, plus the final years of his life in Ravenna. Finally, the second floor exhibits a vast collection of Dante’s belongings (both, originals and replicas) garnered over the years. There, you can see a miniature copy of “Divina Comedia”, the smallest printed edition.

In the poem’s first and second books, Dante takes a tour of Hell and Purgatory guided by Virgil; in Paradise, however, he is guided by his beloved Beatrice. Although Dante himself referred to his work simply as “Comedy”, it became enormously popular and a deluxe version of it, published in 1555 in Venice, assumed the new title that we all know today.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 152 - Part 2

Florence, in general, is a paradise for architecture buffs and art lovers. We found at that Roderick – Vit’s friend – was going to cover not just Dante but a whole lot of other stuff as well. I was so excited though I tried not to act childish about it. I didn’t want to embarrass Vit or myself but I made sure that Vit knew what a gift I considered it. Roderick was very … er … Italian but seemed to understand Vit’s stoic expressions well enough that he knew that both of us were very happy, which in turn seemed to make him happy. Turns out he is a very nice man. With amazing connections. We got in museums with no waiting when there were lines around the buildings for everyone else. Part of me felt guilty but Vit said not to, that the museums and Roderick would be more than compensating in ways that would pay them back. For instance, we walked right into the Bargello museum. The museum occupies an honest to goodness medieval fortress and houses some of Italy's most valuable sculptures and other works of art.

The museum is more popularly known as Palazzo del Popolo (the People's Palace) and is one of the oldest structures in the city, dating back to 1255. Throughout its history, the building has served many different roles. First a fortress, then in the 16th century it was the headquarters for the Captain of the People, also known as the police chief of Florence. The position was called “bargello”, hence the name of the palace. After that, it served as a prison, and then in the mid-19th century it was converted to a museum to publicly display a large collection of Gothic and Renaissance sculptures.

Among the displayed artifacts are the works of Donatello, Michelangelo, Verrochio, Brunelleschi, as well as many other famous and not so famous artists. Donatello’s statue of David was the first male nude sculpture exhibited since ancient times. It was a turning point in art history. On the other hand, David’s … hmmm … features were often artistically draped to prevent Victorian women from being scandalized and/or inappropriately enticed to immoral behavior. And no, I’m not kidding. The museum would sometimes allow private viewings of the undraped David that were more about titillating than educating.

The inner courtyard of the museum is an elegant space crammed with the relief and free-standing sculptures; however, the most famous items are placed in the gallery, off the courtyard, and in the large exhibition space above. Apart from the Renaissance items, the collection includes rare artifacts from the Byzantine, Roman and Medieval eras. I must tell you the religious artwork from the Byzantine and Medieval eras was extraordinary. Not just for the value of the faith that was put into their creation, but to show the evolution of art and perspective over hundreds of years. There were also jewelry pieces of the European Renaissance and some of Islamic origin, too.

Several of the greatest pieces of art in the museum are by the great Michelangelo. His Bacchus, Pitti Tondo (or Madonna and Child), Brutus and David-Apollo. The Bacchus is a decadent piece that many claim is an early example of transgenderism. It is obviously male but with the "both the slenderness of a young man and the fleshiness and roundness of a woman.” It also has a certain androgynous quality that may be a result of the artist’s age when it was carved. Bacchus was carved when Michelangelo was only 22.

Next we ventured to a famous piazza. Alongside Piazza del Duomo, considered the religious heart of Florence, Piazza della Signoria is considered its civil center, presided over by the imposing fortified palace, known as Palazzo Vecchio. Boasting the finest collection of outdoor statues, this square is the birthplace of the Florentine Republic and, as such, is held dear by the locals as an epicenter of the city's social life. It was certainly busy enough to reflect this. It was wall-to-wall people except for when one tour group would vacate making room for the next one. The entire area seems to transcend time and you can easily imagine Michelangelo's “David” standing here, in its original location, now replaced by a replica.

The piazza has enjoyed its importance since the Roman era when Florence was just a small town called Florentia. In the beginning it was a square surrounded by a theater, a complex of baths and a textile workshop. Later, there were other structures such as a church, a loggia and an enormous 5th-century basilica added. Excavations performed in the 1980s, during a period of renovation, revealed much of the history written about the piazza was in fact truth. The asymmetrical shape of the square, complete with the numerous artworks found within add to its appeal, particularly among the photographers. I know our group took quite a few in this location. I have enough on my phone to give it its own folder without the Florence photo folder.

Palazzo Vecchio crowns the city skyline and just a stone's throw away is the equally impressive Loggia dei Lanzi. It’s an outdoor museum of sorts and is almost always open to the public and free to access. This is where you can find statues like the famous “Rape of Sabine Women”, “Hercules and the Centaur”, and a bronze “Perseus” seemingly to be intentionally positioned so as to be stared at by the statue of David. Roderick said to take a break here and to remember to drink plenty of water. It was crowded and warm despite it only being June. Working our way through the crowd was challenging and I swear I felt like our group was being tracked. Vit sensed my unease but put it down to the excess number of people that seemed to swarm around us like a school of fish … a disorganized school of fish. Fine, I’ll take it and might even believe that is what it was. Thankfully that “being watched” feeling ended after we started “swimming upstream.”

A good way I learned today to not get too caught up in a crowd is don't try to walk directly towards your target as you'll invariably keep meeting people doing the same in the opposite direction. It's much easier to move a bit like a yacht tacking into the wind – a bit diagonally to the right, a bit more to the left and so on, sidling into the gaps as they appear. Once I started doing that instead of taking the more direct path I had a lot fewer near jack knifes and rear end collisions from whomever was behind me. Vit may be able to slice through a crowd with people accepting it as his due, but I don’t have that talent.

Speaking of Palazzo Vecchio, just like the Duomo complex, Palazzo Pitti and major local art galleries, Palazzo Vecchio, or the Old Palace, is one of the key sites in Florence that is absolutely essential for understanding the history and culture of the city. One of the most impressive town halls in Tuscany, this enormous Romanesque-style palace has been the office of a Florence mayor since 1872. Prior to that (since 1299, when it was built), it has been the seat of Florentine government.

When Cosimo I de' Medici became Grand Duke and moved in with his family in 1540, he decided to enlarge and revamp the Medieval building in Renaissance style. The facade is decorated with shields recounting the city's political history, plus adorned with a series of sculptures among which are “Marzocco” – the heraldic lion, symbol of Florence, Donatello's original “Judith and Holofernes” and “Hercules and Cacus”. A standalone attraction within the palace is the Tower of Arnolfo. Walking through the palace, from the huge Salone dei Cinquecento ("Hall of the Five Hundred" – designed to celebrate the glories and victories of the Duke) to the more intimate family quarters, is a trip back in time giving you a glimpse into the secluded privacy of the Medici rulers as well as their public personas. Roderick gave us a glimpse of areas not normally in the regular tour including the famed "studiolo" with its secret doors.

In the central niche at the south of the large Hall (Salone dei Cinquecento) is Michelangelo's noted marble group The Genius of Victory (1533–1534), originally intended for the tomb of Julius II. Yep, that Julius II. The sculpture does not represent a moment of fighting, but rather serves as an allegory of victoriousness which isn’t a real word but is the best I can come up with. It depicts the winner who dominates the loser, with one leg that blocks the body of the captive who is submissive and chained. That’s just a simple description and doesn’t begin to scratch the surface of the nuances but you just have to see it for yourself. Not even my photos caught them all.

Despite the fact that Dante is not buried in Florence, the city owns one of the poet's death masks that you can see here. Resting alone in glass, it came to symbolize both Dante's political contribution to the city of Florence and his pivotal role in the development of Italian literature and culture. There was an old bestseller called “Inferno” by author Dan Brown that used this mask in the story line.

From there we went to one of the most famous museums in Europe; the Uffizi Gallery. It is housed in the Palazzo degli Uffizi, initially designated as the magistrate office – hence the name "uffizi". The building was ordered erected in the 16th century by Giorgio Vasari for Cosimo Medici, the 1st Duke of Florence and is an ideal setting for the Medicis' art collection. The gallery has been open to the public since 1765 and, to this date, become one of the most popular tourist attractions in Florence. Some of the more famous works of art displayed there included Sandro Botticelli's “Birth of Venus” and “Adoration of the Magi”, not to mention the works of Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Caravaggio and other greats. The collection is truly magnificent and it would be easy to spend an entire day there without realizing it. My only caveat is that if you dislike crowds this is not the place for you. I wound up having to make a pit stop in the café for some tea before I could carry on much to the amusement of some of the SOs. Roderick on the other hand took a hard dislike of a couple of them and turned quite protective of both Vit and I. He reminds me a bit of Angelia in a very male Italian way. Vit later told me that he and his wife raised her sister and she is about my age which probably explains more than it doesn’t.

In the first 8 years of the 1500s, Michelangelo not only carved his giant David and the Bruges Madonna but also chiseled seven other sculptures and four smaller statues for an altar. He also accepted commissions to paint, and the one work displayed in the Uffizi, painted in 1504, is the Doni Tondo ("Holy Family"), a round-shaped painting (nearly four feet in diameter) vividly depicting the Virgin Mary and the Christ Child, along with St. Joseph. The juxtaposition of bright colors foreshadows the same use of color in Michelangelo's later Sistine Ceiling frescoes.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 152 - Part 3

Our next stop was at Ponte Vecchio (or The Old Bridge). What a wild bit of architecture. According to historical documents it appears in Florence for the first time in 996 AD. Of all the six local bridges crossing the river Arno, it was the only one spared by the retreating Germans in 1944. Today, this Medieval stone arch bridge stands testament to what a monarch can accomplish in terms of lasting legacy.

Still lined with shops, as was commonplace in the Middle Ages, this bridge is presently occupied by jewelers, art dealers and souvenir sellers, whereas initially, its tenants were all butchers who habitually dumped rotten animal carcasses straight into the river below. That was the case until the 16th century when Grand Duke Fernandino I de' Medici demanded that all the butcher shops were replaced by goldsmiths – thus not only did he rid the bridge of its rotting stench, but also turned it into the golden-most spot in Italy. Plus, if you look at Ponte Vecchio from a distance, you can notice there is an upper level, which is in fact a nearly mile-long tunnel linking the Palazzo Pitti with Palazzo Vecchio. Back in the day, Duke Fernandino could walk freely between the two palaces whenever he felt insecure in public. Although the passageway was closed for many years due to safety, the Uffizi reopened it for special tour groups a while back. Roderick said that he tried to get us tickets but he couldn’t make sure that he could secure our safety as there was a protest scheduled; not concerning the Peace Mission which most Italians favor, but due to the ever prevalent immigrant issues. He also took the time to remind us of the danger of pickpockets in the city.

Instead Roderick fed us an incredible number of tales, from the normal to the horrific to the silly. One of the legends surrounding the bridge is it that the economic term “bankruptcy” originated right there when a money-changer who couldn't pay his debts, in punishment for his insolvency had his trading table physically broken by soldiers, so he could no longer sell anything. The table was called "banco", and thus the term "bancorotto" came into being.
Palazzo Pitti was yet another architectural marvel we saw. The main highlight of the palace is undoubtedly Renaissance architecture coupled with the spectacular gardens. Today the enormous palace brings under one roof several museums, whereas originally it was the official (and last) residence of the incredibly powerful Medici family from the 16th to the 18th century. First built in the second half of the 15th century for Luca Pitti, it was still unfinished at the time of his death in 1472. In the year 1550, the palace was bought by Eleonora di Toledo, wife of the Grand Duke Cosimo I de' Medici. When the Medici dynasty came to an end, the property fell into the hands of the House of Lorraine and, in the early 19th century, Napoleon Bonaparte used it as a power base during his reign over Italy.

The Boboli Gardens is one of the most elegant gardens in Florence. Sitting just behind the Pitti Palace, they are said to have been the first few gardens of the 16th century – built for the wife of Cosimo I of Medici, Eleonora di Toledo – involving many renowned landscape architects of the time. One of them, Niccolo Tribolo, worked the gardens till his death in 1550, upon which the job was taken over by Bartolomeo Ammanati and Bernardo Buontalenti both credited with the invention of the so-called Mannerist style that succeeded the Renaissance period in Florence. Replete with wide gravel avenues, lavish use of statuary and fountains, grottos, nymphaea, garden temples and the like, the Boboli Gardens represent an ideal showcase of the Mannerism in all its diversity. It reminds one a bit of Versailles.

A perfect sample of both Italian Renaissance and military architecture, Fort Belvedere was built at the end of the 16th century by Grand Duke Ferdinando I de' Medici to protect the city of Florence and to demonstrate the power and prestige of the Medici Family. Important political dynasties always seem to need to build things and name them after themselves for posterity. This is true all the way back to Ancient Egypt. In addition, it was used to hold the Medici's treasury, as well as to provide emergency shelter for the Grand Duke himself, should the city ever come under attack. For that purpose, the fort was connected to Palazzo Vecchio via corridor over the Ponte Vecchio, plus there were other passages connecting it to the Pitti Palace and Boboli Gardens. Our XOs immediately noticed that from a military standpoint, the fortress occupies a strategic vantage point over the city and surrounding area. Another fantastic fact is that Galileo Galilei used it for astronomical observations and, after being sentenced to life imprisonment in 1633, used to live nearby at Villa Arcetri.

The opulent villa at the center of the fortress, Palazzina di Belvedere, predates the fort and was designed around 1570. As the fort's secondary purpose was to house the Grand Duke in times of unrest or epidemic, it was built as a comfortable, luxurious palace. Not adhering to military purposes, it housed the Medici family's treasures at the bottom of a well that was well-protected by traps. Any intruders attempting to force open the lock would set off the lethal trap and survival was most unlikely! Roderick even had a few of us jumping when he snapped his hand together to mimic a trap closing. Goodness. Vit got a good laugh over it as he knows Roderick as well as Roderick seems to know him.

Florence is a very beautiful city and Piazzale Michelangelo does prove it in all certainty. Designed by Giuseppe Poggi, this large square – filled with souvenir stalls – provides a magnificent panorama over the rooftops of Florence, with the most recognizable and photographed view being that of the Duomo Cathedral and its cupola, along with the Giotto Bell Tower and Palazzo Vecchio. Over the years, this famous view has been reproduced on countless postcards, although there are other landmarks in the vicinity too, such as Fort Belvedere, Santa Croce, and Ponte Vecchio.

Dedicated to the great Renaissance sculptor Michelangelo, the square houses copies of some of his works found elsewhere in Florence, such as “David” and the four allegories of the Medici Chapel of San Lorenzo. While the originals are all in white marble, the copies here on display are made of bronze and were brought up the hill by nine pairs of oxen. About halfway up the main stairway is a city rose garden, where you can spend a quiet half-hour wandering and relaxing, with views of the Duomo and city framed by trees and roses. Unfortunately we didn’t have time. After going to the museums we needed to keep moving at a good clip.

It was here that we caught a bus ride to Pisa. Another surprise for me. It was an hour bus ride but Roderick is a true showman so between a boxed meal and the man’s storytelling the hour flew by. The Piazza dei Miracoli is the most famous and most visited square in Europe after Saint Peter’s Square in Rome. It is a walled area and its true name is the Piazza de Duomo (Cathedral Square) but the writer Gabriele D’Annunzio dubbed it the Square of Miracles in one of his books and the name stuck. A lot of people misguidedly call it the “Campo dei Miracoli” (Field of Miracles) but that field was invented by Carlo Collodi in his book “The Adventures of Pinocchio”. In his book, two scoundrels, the Cat and the Fox, told Pinocchio that if he planted his gold there it would grow into money trees.

The square is made up of an area that is partly paved and part neatly trimmed lawns and the most famous buildings of Pisa are to be found there. These buildings are said to represent the four stages of man. If we take them in these stages rather than in chronological order, we start with the Baptistery, dedicated to St John the Baptist, it was built in 1153 and represents Birth. The Cathedral was built in 1064 and it portrays Life, while the Speciale Nuova di Santo Spirito (the New Hospital of the Holy Spirit), built in 1257, represents Illness and the end of life. The Camposanto Monumentale (the cemetery), built in 1278, of course represents Death. The bell tower – the famous Leaning Tower – doesn’t come into the allegory, but if you are in a whimsical frame of mind you might say that it represents the rather shaky path men take between Life and Death! Or some say it is a version of the ascent to Heaven.

The Camposanto Monumentale stands at the northern edge of the Piazza dei Miracoli and took its name “Monumentale” to distinguish it from other later cemeteries. The cemetery is said to have been built around sacred earth brought back from Golgotha in the 12th century by the Archbishop of Pisa, Ubaldo de’Lanfranchi. According to legend, bodies buried here decay within 24 hours. The cemetery was the fourth and last building to be erected on the square and it stands on the ruins of the first Baptistery. It is an oblong shaped Gothic style building started by di Simone in 1278. Building was completed in 1464. At the beginning of its construction, it was intended to be a church, but the plans were changed after the western end was completed. Two hundred years to construct for it to be a cemetery. The ancient Egyptians once again came into my mind for obvious reasons.

The outer wall has 43 blind arches and two doorways. Over the right-hand entrance you will see a tabernacle containing sculptures of the Virgin and Child and four Saints, created in the 14th century by Giovanni Pisano. Most of the tombs are under the arches, once there were a lot of Roman sarcophagi, but today only 84 remain. The building houses three chapels: the Chapel Ammannati is the oldest, dating back to 1360; the Chapel Aulla was built in 1518 and has an altar made by della Robbia; the Chapel Dal Pozzo was added in 1594. In 1944 American bombing caused a fire which destroyed most of the Camposanto’s marvelous frescoes.

The Duomo is the medieval Cathedral and it is a fine example of Italian-Romanesque architecture. Busketo began work on the building in 1064 and his tomb is built into the façade, which was built in white stone and grey marble with colored marble discs. On the eastern end of the building there is the replica of the Pisa Griffon. The 11th century original, which is the largest known Islamic metal sculpture, is to be found in the Cathedral Museum. Yes, an Islamic metal sculpture in a very Catholic setting.t

The huge bronze doors were added after the original wooden ones were destroyed by fire in 1595. Above the doors are four rows of open galleries; there is a statue of the Madonna and Child and the Four Evangelists. Worshippers usually enter the church by a door built in 1180 by Pisano on the bell tower side of the cathedral. The interior of the cathedral has black and white marble facings and the mosaics are in Byzantine style. The granite Corinthian columns come from the mosque in Palermo, which was captured by Pisa in 1063. The gilded ceiling and frescoed dome were restored after the 1595 fire. The fresco of “Christ in Majesty with the Virgin Mary and St John the Evangelist” luckily survived the fire.

Next came what everyone pays the most attention to. No one leaves Pisa without visiting the famous Leaning Tower. It is the bell tower of the nearby Cathedral, although the bells have been removed to lessen the weight at the top of the tower. A bell recording now plays from the top of tower at regular intervals. Building of the tower began in 1173 and its pronounced tilt was noticed when the first three floors had been completed. This tilt was caused by soil subsidence and work was ceased to allow the ground to “settle.” Not that the plan was successful. Letting the earth settle wasn’t the only reason that the tower took so long to finish. Tuscany was frequently at war with its neighbors and man-power was often scarce. When work recommenced the upper floors were built higher on one side to make the tower seem straighter than it actually was.

The tower has eight stories, is over 55 meters high, has 207 arched columns and a spiral stairway with 297 steps to the top. Subsidence continues at a rate of about 1 millimeter a year, in spite of several attempts to stop the erosion. For a while lead weights were added at the base and on the third floor and buildings opposite were evacuated as it seemed that the tower would fall. Before rescue work was carried out between 1999 and 2001 the tower leaned at an angle of 5.5 degrees. Thirty-eight cubic meters of earth were removed from the raised side, which straightened the tower by 45 centimeters. In 2008 another 70 tons were removed and experts say that the tower should be stable for at least another 200 years. Today it leans at an angle of 3.99 degrees.

And then Vit flashed something in front of my face too close for me to see. I pushed it away and … he’d gotten tickets for us to climb to the top of the tower! Oh. My. Word. We were one of the last groups up and were given special dispensation to take some pictures for the media file of the Peace Mission. Derrick told me that it is one of the best pictures I’ve ever taken and he’s already asked Reggie to print one out and to help him get it framed. He did note my weight loss but didn’t lecture too hard.

Vit laughed and laughed at my excitement. I suppose I must have made a spectacle of myself again as I was getting some strange looks from our group. Oh well. Too bad, so sad. It was time to climb.

To start with, many are surprised to find the Tower isn’t a traditional building but is hollow. It is a bit like a two-walled pipe. You climb the stairs between the two walls completely enclosed except for the occasional window looking out rather than in. The stairs are narrow and quite worn in places from centuries of feet going up and down. Hand holds are non-existent until the top and even there, in my opinion, inadequate. And whoops, the ticket guards forgot to let us know the “bells” would be going off while we were at the top. I tried, I really did, but it was so loud that I had to start my descent to get away. I’ve put oil in my ear tonight but I must admit that the right one still aches a bit though I refuse to complain about it.

When it was time to go I saw Roderick pass something off to Vit as they were saying fond goodbyes but didn’t think much of it. Vit is always doing things like that. It was a thirty-minute bus ride from Pisa to Livorno and everyone was in a good mood if a bit tired. We had one grumbler but that was only because she had to go on duty as soon as we got back. Vit also has a shift but I didn’t see him complaining. And in fact when we got back to the B it was to find out he had the rest of the evening off as Yegor had found the problem that Vit was going to work at correcting.

We had a lovely dinner together and then went back to our cabin to relax and watch a movie on one of the in-cabin channels. But right after we got in he grins and said, “I cannot wait any longer.” He hands me a bag, the same bag I saw Roderick give him. Slowly I open it and … “Vit!”

“You like them?”

“Oh Vit!”

There was a tea cup with scenes from Florence painted on it. There were a pair of silver earrings that were made to look like the famous leaning tower. A scarf that had many scenes of Italy silk screened upon it. And last but not least there was an entire bag of postcards. I had to take a break from organizing them to write this journal entry.

“Roderick warned me that there would be little time for shopping so …” Vit shrugged. “He offered. You like them?”

“Oh Vit!” I said giving him plenty of kisses. When he smiled very big I said, “Your friend is nice. You knew him from the O’Meg?”

“He was my first friend after leaving Russia. The first one to accept me, to … to believe my story. He taught me to … trust again. It was not until last year that I found he left because he’d become uncomfortable with his suspicions about Paula’s activities. He told the First Mate when he left but … the man who held that station at the time was likely under Paula’s spell as well. Roderick found it difficult to find another job at sea and took that as a sign he was better off at home. It turned out to be the best decision he could have made. Soon he and his family are moving to the countryside to work with his brother at a small winery. He said this excursion was his last and it was as much a goodbye for him as a favor for me.”

“I’d love to send him a thank you card.”

“I will see that it happens,” he said kissing me.

It has been such a lovely day, and a lovely evening. Unfortunately I must soon follow Vit into sleep as tomorrow is another day. But I will definitely be tucking this one into the place I save memories to bring up on days that are less pleasant and need something good to offset them.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 153: Jun 15 – Genoa, Italy

Genoa, Italy and all I can seem to think of is salami. Ridiculous. But it has been that kind of day. I was the guide for a mixed group made up mostly of students but there were enough adults in there that weren’t chaperones to make things … interesting. And not necessarily in a good way but it was no disaster. I don’t know, I suppose I was just in a weird mood. I wasn’t security this time, solely a guide that had been given less than two hours’ notice that guide would be my job and my body cam would be piped to the ship’s movie screen for everyone and their mother to see. It is a different dynamic to only being doing one job and not the other. It was also like being told I was the substitute teacher for the in-school suspension class, and I would be under observation while I did it. Good Lord, I was quaking in my tennies.

Vit nearly face-planted when he came in this morning he was so tired. I didn’t even have to be quiet he slept so hard. I felt bad; too bad to wake him up and get some comfort before I lost my cool and made a fool of myself. So I was trying to eat a croissant, drink tea, and find a self-guided walking tour all at the same time I made mental notes on some interesting facts so I wouldn’t have to read from a script the entire time. It felt like a set up from beginning to end, the kind that comes because someone wants to prove you aren’t fit for your job. Gah! I still get frazzled just thinking about it despite it being over with.

“I’m it for the day ladies and gentlemen. Unfortunately the tour company that was to provide your entertainment have run shorthanded due to some quarantine issues created when people in their previous tour group failed their Rhino-corona-parainfluenza tests. If you wind up with questions at any of our stops, or on Genoa in general, that I can’t answer I will find the answers for you before we leave port.”

“Genoa is Italy’s largest seaport as you can see around you. The navy that sailed from this port controlled the Aegean in the 12th and 13th centuries. In point of fact, this is where Christopher Columbus was born, when the area was its own Republic.” We continued from there, me hoping that my “guide persona” wasn’t just a boring lecturer. Our walk was basically a stroll along the historical Via Garibaldi. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site all on its own and it felt as though we were back in the 1500s. The structural architecture of the buildings is simply magnificent.

We started at Cattedrale di San Lorenzo. The cathedral was founded probably in the 5th or 6th century AD, and devoted to St. Sirus, the then bishop of Genoa. According to what I’d read, excavations under the pavement and in the area in front of today's façade have revealed walls and pavements from the Roman era as well as pre-Christian sarcophagi, suggesting the existence of a cemetery on the site. Later a church devoted to the Twelve Apostles was built, which was in turn flanked and replaced by a new cathedral dedicated to St. Lawrence the martyr. The city was able to afford all the construction because money came from the successful enterprises of the Genoese fleets in the Crusades. With the construction of its walls, in 1155, and the fusion of the three ancient city nuclei, the area became the heart of the city. The piazza was the only public space in the city for the entire Middle Ages. Various altars and chapels have been erected in the area between the 14th and 15th centuries.

At a request from some of the excursion participants I included the Museo del Tesoro as the next stopping point on our tour. The treasury museum is located in the San Lorenzo Cathedral. The Cathedral Treasury established a collection of objects in the twelfth century and expanded in later centuries through official grants and private contributions; also from war trophies. However, it didn’t become a true museum until 1892, when it was decided to make the objects visible to the public at all times instead of select religious celebrations. After World War II, in the courtyard of the Archbishop's Palace behind the cathedral, an entirely new underground area was developed, intended specifically to cater to the museum, which opened in 1956. The overall effect is fascinating, not only for the strength and novelty of the layout, but also for the variety and complexity of cultural references and types. The underground nature of the museum also adds a certain “creepiness” to the overall experience.

The Palazzo San Giorgio, or Palace of St. George, is also known as the Palazzo delle Compere di San Giorgio. It is located in Piazza Caricamento and is a palace that was built in 1260 by Guglielmo Boccanegra, uncle of Simone Boccanegra, the first Doge of Genoa. For the construction of the new palace, materials were used from the demolition of the Venetian Embassy in Constantinople, obtained from Byzantine Emperor Michael VIII as a reward for Genoese aid against the Latin Empire. The palace was intended to separate and elevate the temporal power of the republic's government from the religious power of the clergy centered on the Cathedral of San Lorenzo. A version of “separation of church and state” that the US constitutionalized in our founding documents. In 1262, Guglielmo Boccanegra, only two years after the palace was built, was deposed and forced into exile. After that the palace was used for a time as a prison. Fun fact was that Marco Polo was its most famous resident and it was there that he dictated his memoirs.

Palazzo Bianco is one of the main buildings of the center of Genoa. It contains the Gallery of the White Palace, one of the best known city art galleries. Together with Palazzo Rosso and Palazzo Doria Tursi, it forms part of a cluster of museums that are said to be “must see” tourist stops, so we did. Constructed between 1530 and 1540 by Luca Grimaldi, a member of one of the most important Genoese families, in 1658 the palace passed into the possession of the De Franchi family, and in 1711 it was given by Federico De Franchi, its inheritor, to Maria Durazzo Brignole-Sale, his main creditor. The gallery offers a panorama of European painting from the 12th century to the 17th century, with a large prevalence of Genoese, Flemish, French and Spanish painters.

People were starting to get hungry and that’s where I got to add in some fun stuff. I’d already read that we were more like to snack our way through the city than dig into heaping bowls of pasta. In other words, this is a “street food” kind of town with two types of vendors to choose from: sciamadde and friggitorie. Sciamadde are your go-tos for farinate (chick-pea crepes) and focaccia (yes, the Genoese invented focaccia), baked in huge, wood-burning ovens. Friggitorie are usually small, white-tiled shops with pots of oil churning out crispy fried sea critters. Both types were delicious. I also found that Genoa is where pesto was invented. The local food was definitely different from what we’d experienced in the Tuscany area.

While most ate, some shopped. To be honest, most did both. One place we popped into was Antica Farmacia Sant’Anna, a monastic apothecary that produces perfumes and herbal remedies, like orange flower water. We also … gag … stopped into the last ever tripperia. For the culinarily brave (a tripperia’s specialty is — you guessed it! — tripe), Antica Tripperia La Casana is one of the last remaining tripperie in Genoa, and it’s been at it for the last two centuries. I ate it just to make a good showing but Tripe is not a fav of mine. It grossed the American students out but some students from other countries actually thought it quite normal and didn’t understand the reaction.

Another stop was at Palazzo Doria. Initially built around 1563 by the powerful family of Spinola, Palazzo Doria looks like a solid cube without any external decoration. Severely damaged during bombing in the war with France, its facade was revised and completed, as well as enriched with stucco and pairs of pilasters at intervals. Inside is valuable eighteenth-century rococo stucco, precious furniture, and the vault frescoes by Luca Cambiaso known as the Fall of Phaeton and the Fall of Icarus.

Some of the adults at this point broke off to see two other museums: the Edoardo Chiossone Museum of Oriental Art and the Museo dell’Accademia Liquistica di Belle Arti. The rest of us headed to the Palazzo della Nuova Borsa. The historical palace of the New Stock Exchange Genoa, which was built in 1912, has an interesting curved façade. The building occupies an area of over 3000 square meters. It is a monumental in size and has an arched pillared porch. The Stock Exchange now houses several offices and represents a significant example of the artistic and architectural heritage of the city and its business life.

From modern business we turned to ancient history. The Casa della Famiglia Colomb was the home of Christopher Columbus when he was still young. Today it is a historical museum complex. The building has undergone many changes over the centuries, the main one being due to the bombardment of Genoa in 1684.

Another famous “ancient” is Mura della Citta, famous for being the longest wall in Europe. Parts of it date back from the 12th to 17th centuries. It has a unique mix of designs, both old and recent, making it attractive to the eye. It has kept its original purpose as a protection barrier.

Chiesa di Sant' Agostino is a church in the historical center of Genoa. It is today deconsecrated, meaning it is not longer used as a church, and instead is sometimes used for theater productions.. Begun by the Augustinians in 1260, it is one of the few Gothic buildings remaining in the city, after numerous demolitions in the 19th century. It has a typical façade with bichrome stripes in white marble and blue stone, with a large rose window in the middle. Notable is the ogival portal with, in the lunette, a fresco depicting St. Augustine by Giovanni Battista Merano. At the sides are two double-mullioned windows. The interior has a nave and two aisles divided by ogival arches supported by robust columns with cubic capitals.

We could have continued the tour as there were many more buildings from the 12th century but I noticed many of the group were starting to droop. It was time to return to the ship. I had been smart and it wasn’t far from the port and the duty-free shops. There wasn’t a lot that was original so the students by-passed shopping and hurried to get through security and back to what I was to hear was a special high school movie night in the education department rooms. Watched them walk through and then security on the other end got them onto the ship. I stayed on the shop-side and repeatedly had to encourage people to get in line. Some of the adults that had broke off from my group to go to the museums absolutely pushed it to the last minute but we got onboard with ten minutes to spare.

Vit asked if I minded eating in.

“Absolutely not.”

“You do not wish …?”

I made a face. “I mean I absolutely do not mind eating in. Tell me what you want and I’ll go get it.”

“You are certain?”

“Vit, unless you need some privacy and quiet and need me to leave, I am fine with eating in.”

He sighed in relief. “Is good. We can order burgers ahead and I will go get them.”

We did the married thing of no I’ll get it … no I’LL get it … no I will … until I finally laughed and said he could open the wine.

“Nii. No wine for me. Milk only.”

I knew with that comment that he was stressed out and whatever he planned on doing was likely to be even more stressful. Well it was reports and trying to find where some inventory went missing. Believe it or not they were happy to give me a full quart of milk and a quart bottle of carbonated water that had lime flavor added to it. Lots of ice as well. Walking back to the cabin I felt like I was heading to a picnic. When I told Vit he turned the TV in our room to the nature channel and we both laughed and arranged it so it was a picnic indeed.

He has been working on reports ever since. I took our dishes back to the food station then took a shower, washed my hair, and put away my postcards. I have some correspondence to answer so I will put this journal away. I suppose the day wasn’t nearly as bad as I made it sound at first but I’m more than happy for it to be over. For once I may climb in bed before Vit does. I am more than just a little tired.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 154: Jun 16 – Nice, France

Why it is that I feel that I’m insulated – too insulated – from the reality that started the Peace Mission to begin with? It really is not that long ago that our world nearly descended into permanent chaos. The experience of the pirates on the O’Meg is not really that long ago. The bombs fired by the North Koreans. South Koreas nearly assured mutually destruction due to proximity and familial connection. Wondering each day if the US, Russia, and China would be unable to resist joining in the other battles.

We were in Nice, France today. A place known for its climate, beaches and its gorgeous coastline … as a destination for the rich and famous and those that want to be seen and influence others. In addition to that the architecture is extraordinary, the second largest hotel capacity in France, and is second only to Paris for the number of museums. It is all very chichi with the men dapper and the women stylish. I felt like a fat little Cossack pony next to all the beautiful people. And yet like everyone else I tried to fit in. Ridiculous.

We were asked not to wear our full uniform. They didn’t want us to look like a troop of military dragoons I suppose. Instead I wound up looking like a postulant or novice. Really. Dark green capris, dark hose, tennis shoes, white blouse, and a scarf to put over my hair when the wind was blowing enough to drag the hair out of my braids. I wish I could have ditched the hose, but the two chaperones were wearing them and I would have stood out too much. The worst for me however was that I was fitted for a media camera that would hold up to the day’s excursions. Ugh.

Thank goodness it was capris. The entire day was one long exercise routine. We started with a Segway tour which allowed us to cover more ground than walking. An added bonus was being able to enjoy fresh air, the flexibility to cruise through narrow passages and stop as often as you like, and the students got the wiggles out.

We started the tour by cruising down the elegant seafront Promenade des Anglais to observe a slice of daily life in Nice. From there we explored the colorful, open-air Cours Saleya flower market. We continued on to Place Rosetti in Old Town (Vieux Nice), a charming square where we people watched and posed for photos on our Segway while simultaneously listening to our guide share historical facts and stories about Nice. We saw the fish market at Place St-Francois, and admired the Italian architecture and daily buzz of Place Massena, Nice’s main square.

From there we continued on to Place Garibaldi for a glimpse of stately Baroque buildings. We ascended to the top of Castle Hill to take in panoramic views of Nice, the Alps and the Bay of Angels. Going uphill would have been a workout on a bike but the Segway make it a breeze. The views and the photos taken were breathtaking. Coming down the hill we had a chance to maximize the Segway’s power and cruised at speeds up to 12 mph (20 kph). My goodness it was a rush despite my worry that someone was going to crash.

From there we watched the maritime action at the Port of Nice before returning to the Promenade des Anglais. That was two hours of the morning well spent. Time for food. And what do the kids want? They want to eat at King Marcel. An American-style burger joint. I thought you’ve got to be kidding me but that’s what they wanted so that’s what they got. As a consequence that’s what I got as well. Guess what Vit had ordered for us for dinner? Burgers. I didn’t have the heart to make my excuses. He just wanted to stay in and eat again while he went over reports. Which was actually fine, I just would have preferred a salad or something except he was commenting on the weight I’ve lost.

Actually I’m complaining. What they call a “First World” problem when so many Third World problems exist. At least I have food. But that’s what I’m talking about. I’m getting inured from the problems of the world. I was thinking none of that this afternoon however. After lunch it was on to an ebike tour.

An electric bike allowed is to experience the fresh air and flexibility of a traditional bicycle with additional pedal power to cover more distance and climb up hills with minimal effort. It wasn’t completely exercise-free however, and you still have to use some common sense while riding in traffic. We began our tour where we’d left off by meeting our local guide who made sure everyone knew how to use the battery-powered bike. Then we set off through Nice’s winding historic streets.

Our guide provided background about the area’s rich heritage and unique culinary scene through the speakers in our bike helmets as we rode along scenic backroads that led to vineyards just outside of town. The power of our bike’s battery helped climb the rolling hills. We stopped at the family-run Domaine du Fogolar winery where we met the winemakers and got a behind-the-scenes glimpse at traditional French wine production methods. The adults tasted the estate’s signature wine, Collet de Bovis, while the students tasted fresh grape juice the wine was made from. We also enjoyed a stroll through the heritage vines. After our hike we stopped at a bakery and got another snack to fill the tanks of the teenagers. From there we continued on through the gorgeous pastoral landscape, taking in memorable coastal views, then returned to Nice.

By that time the students and chaperones were ready to return to the ship and I was ready to turn off the camera that had been taking pictures the entire day. I had been a little uncomfortable all day then remembered the last time I was in the area. Baird had set Vit up in a poker game in Monte Carlo which is not far away from Nice. Vit had earned the money through his talent but at the same time the Puritan in me found the entire incident slightly appalling. I don’t know, I try and not allow the Puritan to take over but still I realized Vit fit much better in these surroundings than I did.

I bought post cards earlier in the day or I would not have gotten any as I didn’t feel like shopping at all while I shepherded the students through the shops and then through security and back onto the ship. I felt a little better after getting back on board and having dinner with Vit. Then I had to take care of the correspondence I hadn’t finished last night. And God forgive me I wish I could have just put it away for another night.

“Vit?”

He looked up but I could see he wasn’t really paying attention. I was thinking about apologizing but at the same moment he seemed to register that I was in distress. “Kokhana?”

I pointed to my computer screen and he got up and came over.

Hey Itty Bit, I wanted you to hear it from me. Not sure how long this will take to reach you because I’m not putting it through Dylan so it will have to go through the general social media algorithms before it hits your in box. And I’d prefer us to keep it between you and I … and Vit of course. I sure don’t want you to feel caught in a squeeze, plus I have a feeling he’ll understand. And no, there’s nothing wrong between us sibs, it is just … hard. I never thought to be in this position, certainly not at this time in my life. I feel like a damn failure.

I should have told you sooner, but I just didn’t know what to say and Dylan and Derrick were trying to help me minimize the mess I’m in. She left me. And it looks like she is turning the kids against me. They’re legally adults. We’ll just have to work through it is all I can say on that score. But I didn’t want you to be blindsided cause she made some threats today about telling the whole family her side of the story. Nothing to hide on my side but she’ll try and make it look bad. She’s gotten herself in a fix and I’m supposed to bail her out whether I want to or not.

I should say I’m shocked but I’m not sure if I am or not. I knew she wasn’t happy. Business is way down and as a result our lifestyle has been curtailed. Or should I say hers has been, I never went in for all that stuff that supposedly made her happy. I do know she wasn’t happy I wouldn’t subsidize her going back to school yet again. Who the hell needs three college degrees all on different subjects? Blames me because what she picked the second time around isn’t making her happy. I tried to tell her that social work was hard but she thought she could conquer the world and make it a better place. She’s been dishing a lot of stuff at me that I would expect from the kids but not from her. Add to that she’s catching flak from her parents. They are angry that I won’t pay the student loans from her last degree. But I warned her and them at the time when she went back to school on their dime without my sayso. Even if I wanted to we haven’t had the money to pay those bills.

For now the business is in the crapper. I’m closing the doors rather than lose more money. It means laying people off, and I hate to do it. Don’t really have a choice as the government has invoked some international trade laws and until I get licensed and the rest that they want, my import business is closed. My domestic business is closed as well, except due to new interstate commerce regulations. I’m not the only one; it is happening all over. But what her parents did sure does blow. They tried to get me over the barrel by reporting me, but they only caused themselves grief instead. I had already submitted the required paperwork and it caught them off guard. Their complaint turned from blackmail into the person taking their complaint putting them on a list to be “examined.” IRS is also now on their case which is none of my business no matter how much they were trying to get into mine.

They’re trying to say I am the one that turned them in but I’m not. The way they act lately I’m not surprised someone would. They’ve been playing a little fast and loose with a couple of their employees so it could be anyone. I have no idea what they are going to try and say but if they try and pull you in, just stay out of it. I won’t consider it not taking my side, in fact I don’t want that kinda crap to happen. We all went through enough during Derrick’s mess that he is still climbing out of. And between you and me, Dylan is having his own problems though managing them better than I did. I’m betting they make it if they can stop letting the 007 crap as you call it interfere with their marriage. Barbie might be separating as well though for different reasons. I think they really want to make it work but there’s some issues there for sure.

Just hear me out Kiddo. You and Vit need to be taking care of business. Doing things like you did last time for yourselves. If you can help the family that’s fine but you need to focus on yourselves first. I’m sorrier than I can say that I didn’t see what was going on that forced you to join that damn Peace Mission. But I’m also glad you are out of this and gladder every day that you don’t have to be here and deal with all the problems in this country. Empty grocery shelves, rationing, health care in the tank, economy under the tank, you name it there’s a lot of reasons for you to get what you can out of what you are doing. Seeing those pictures you post is one of the few highlights of my days so keep ‘em coming Shorty.

I know I sound depressed. I am. But, I’m more hurt by the kids than I am about her leaving. I think her parents gave them all unrealistic expectations and I didn’t do enough over the years to knock the rose-colored glasses off. What Dad would say I don’t know. Barbie thinks family counseling will help. I’m willing to try. Guess that says a lot that I just can’t bring myself to say right now. Pray for us Itty Bit, feels like my world is ending.

Your Brother, Charlie

I wanted to call home even if it was just to ask Dylan to make sure the family checks on Charlie. I want to talk to Angelia and get the female side of the story and to ask if she’ll nudge Tal and Devin to keep him busy. I want to talk to Barbie and ask how she is doing and if she’ll keep encouraging Charlie to talk to someone even if the rest of them don’t. I want to talk to Derrick and …

“I’m sorry you are not there,” Vit said sadly. “I know that is where you want to be. Where you should be.”

“Nii!” I told him almost angrily. “We belong together. I love my brats and sisters but you … YOU Vit Dymtrus … are my husband and my life.”

“Ah. My Kokhana.” He held me until I felt like I wasn’t going to fly apart and then said, “If you cannot speak to them, perhaps you should try writing to them.”

“Charlie wants to keep his letter between the two of us.”

“Then do so, but you can still ask and perhaps one will … crack and spill the pasta.”

I nearly laughed, then chuckled. “You and Yegor have been hanging around Polina again. It is spill the beans … not pasta.”

He smiled and I realized he’d done it on purpose. The thing is we are grown ups and a world away. I couldn’t call them and I had to decide how to answer Charlie’s letter and what if anything to write to the others. What I could do, and did, was start reading between the lines of the news that I’d been getting.

The world is not a nice place. Yes, there are nice places in this world but as a whole it is not a nice place. It too often chews people up and spits them out, or swallows them whole never to be seen again. I know Charlie did not want to make me sad or depressed, he also didn’t want to overprotect me so gave me the truth I needed to deal with life. He above all the others has always been that way. But he did wake me up. I’ve been wandering in a daze, not seeing reality through the haze of this job I have. I don’t know if I can do anything but I need to stay more aware. This job ends in less that two months and I need to take Charlie’s suggestion seriously. Vit and I have gotten away from preparing to return to the States. We have our own stressors but we need to make time for that.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 155: Jun 17 – Toulon, France

I was so upset last night that Vit finally encouraged me to climb into a hot bath with a glass of wine. While I was in there, Human Resources called our cabin with a late-night decree. Hear ye, hear ye, thou shalt take another day off … or else. Gah! Vit and I both got blow back from a few of our fellow personnel members for causing a problem with schedules and such but not all of them. Like we can control Human Resources.

I spoke with Polina today and she said not to worry about it. Of course she is no fan of the current HR people either so leaned towards being understanding. But Mr. Parnell did not see it the same way and was rather harsh. I won’t record his words for posterity because quite frankly I found some of his reasoning illogical and immatures. I’d like to say I can put him on ignore but he’s the head of the education program on the ship and that includes more than just the school grades. I feel caught up in the middle of someone else’s war. Quite a thought given this is a peace mission.

Oh well, every cloud has a silver lining. I had hoped today’s lining involved getting to spend more alone time with Vit, but it was not to be. Vit was invited to join some of the other XOs on an adventure excursion. He assumed I was also invited but I saw the surprise on several faces – and one or two trying to hide their consternation – when I showed up with him. I would have dropped out at that point except Vit was so enthusiastic. I will admit that I plastered a pleasant face on for his benefit. Alright, so my silver lining had a few qualifications to it. It wasn’t horrible. Bottom line is I still got to spend the majority of the day in Vit’s company even if I had to share him with other people.

I will say that for a moment after we exited the ship it felt like my “ghost” was back, but only for a moment. It is disturbing but I think I know who it might be now. One of the media people that I’ve never really had much to do with. I know she is friends, or at least colleagues with, some of the media people that I’ve butted heads with. It makes me nervous because I wonder why the woman seems fixated on me. Of course that could be my ego and nothing more. I will be more cautious or see if my body cam catches her more or less stalking me. Yeah, like I said it could be my ego causing my paranoia. That’s all I need.

Our port today was Toulon, France. Our group didn’t stay in Toulon however, but ventured to the Verdon Gorge. It is an absolutely gorgeous canyon that is split by a river. The river is about fifteen miles long at the bottom of a 2296 feet canyon. Hiking, rock climbing, and kayaking are all popular activities in the area. And of course some of the XOs were out to test themselves in a very demanding and physical outing.

Essentially out activity was called an Aquatrek; a combination of land and water-based exercises. A cross between floating down a lazy river with a life vest on and then climbing up and jumping off of the cliffs. Most of the jumps were small – five to six feet – but several were a few thirty feet jumps. None of the jumps were mandatory and one spouse did abstain from all jumping. Only a few of us did all of the jumps and I was the only female that did all of them.

Vit seemed in a very good mood. Apparently he thought that the only reason I jumped was because I didn’t want to leave his side and followed him everywhere. Okay so maybe there is an element of truth in there but mostly I was pushing myself and because I … er … wanted to rub Devin’s nose in it a bit. He just got back from a training event on the Snake River and he bragged a bit. It was all in good fun and I did it while Vit was out of the cabin so …. Anyway, it was fun regardless of my reasons.

My only complaint – assuming you can find the arrogance to complain about such a beautiful experience – is that there were quite a few tourists. It reminds me of how river rafting will sometimes get in the States. I don’t begrudge them, and frankly it is unrealistic and selfish to expect to have such a place all to ones self, but I could have done without the noise a few of the groups were making. This was a serene river, not a party boat in the Caribbean.

We made a brief stop in Toulon on our way back to grab a snack and just to see a few sites. From a street vendor I tried a local specialty called “cade.” It is a flat bread made of chickpeas, olive oil, and water. Tastes much better than it likely sounds. Think of it like a pancake made of chickpea flour without any added sweetening. It started out as a dish brought by the Italian carpenters that did work for Napoleon. The Toulons like it so well they adopted it as their own. A poor man’s breakfast that would get them through the first part of the day. I tasted something similar in Nice only there it was called “socca.”

I had no interest in buying souvenirs but Vit was curious so we went into a few shops. We didn’t spend extravagantly but he did pick up a couple bottles of Calvados which is a local apple brandy type liquor, quite strong if the look on a few of the XOs’ faces is any indication. We also picked up a couple of bottles of local wines. Those are put away in our “wine cellar” in our storage locker. I hope that Dylan is good for helping us get all of this stuff through customs once we get back to the states. Only about a month and a half to go. And of course … post cards.

By the time we got back on the ship more than a few of our group had a bit too much sun … and fun … and went to their cabins for the remainder of the evening. Even Vit crashed after eating. I went to check in with Baird’s office, specifically to see if there was anything Barney or Henry needed. I still try and pull some translations if I get in early and this was one of those days.

Barney wasn’t there when I was going through what had been tossed on the desk I use but she was before I left. She wasn’t in the greatest of moods so I hesitated to disturb her but I finally got over myself and asked, “Barney? Is there a problem with HR? Vit and I were forced to take a day off again today and I just …”

She interrupted my question with an answer … of sorts. “Dymtrus I can understand asking, but you?” She gave an exaggerated sneer. “HR is a bloody pain in the arse. You’d think they were keeper of the damn keys of Her Majesty’s assets.”

“Uh …”

“They’ve been going over hours worked and in the process sticking their damned nose in everyone’s bookkeeping. You’re getting too much over time. So’s Dymtrus and a few others. The day off is their way of trying to be generous while controlling the payroll.”

“Oh. So basically we’re not doing anything wrong, they just like giving people heartburn.”

She looked at me in surprise then snorted. “Yes.”

Obviously not wanting to carry the conversation further … or have any kind of conversation … I turned and left and came back to the cabin. I entered to find that Vit had me a milk shake. Apparently I am too thin and he does not wish a wind to come along and send me overboard. Uh huh. Seeing as he was drinking an ungodly concoction that the XOs claim to have invented. A Stout Float. Vit’s preferred version is a Coffee Stout Float. Basically you replace rootbeer with Coffee Stout, add vanilla ice cream, and … gak … an ice cream float that should never have been thought of. Ew. Shudder. Even my cast iron stomach rebels at the very idea. But Vit loves them.

“Those lips better not have any of that bleck on them if you want a kiss.”

Vit of course decided to turn silly, got a good dose of foam on his mouth and then chased me around the cabin. It didn’t last long. We were both too tired. But it was funny in a bizarre way and silly in a way we haven’t been with each other in … a long time.

I don’t think he meant to but the heavy carbs quickly pushed him over the edge and back into sleep. I used the time to clean the cabin a bit, take care of my notes and this journal, and get our uniforms sponged and freshened for tomorrow. Perhaps Vit is correct. I’m starting to look a little frumpy … or frumpier than normal. If it wasn’t so close to Miami I might requisition a new uniform in a smaller size. Oh well. I’ll just deal with things the way they are. I don’t need to nurse my vanity or ego. Lord knows what they might get up to if I did.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 156: June 18 – Marseille, France

Marseille, France. A port for both the Ancient Greeks and Ancient Romans and today the largest French city on the Mediterranean and the largest commercial and tourist port in France … or so claimed our guide. Today I had the pleasure of providing security for the high school students on an ebike tour to Calanques National Park. Six and a half hours … on a bike … with teenagers … in traffic. Did I mention in traffic? Amazingly I do have a few hair follicles that are not in a vegetative state. While things were beautiful, I could have done without some of the horseplay in traffic.

Lord, when did I turn into such an old stick in the mud?! I had Charlie in stitches. It was so good just to hear him laugh, much less laugh so hard he sounded like he was going to blow snot bubbles or have what Momma would have called an unfortunate release of … uh hummm … I believe I may have had an excess of my own. I tried more than one glass of the apple brandy that Vit picked up yesterday. My cast iron stomach has deserted me.

Ah well, it has been one of those days. When Vit remarked on my third glass I asked, “And how is this any different than your vodka?”

Somehow or other I found myself on a walk around the B’s jogging track. The fresh air felt good against my neck and cooled my head. Back in the cabin I stepped under the shower and when I came out I found Vit dressed for his shift and a large cup of tea with a package of madeleines sitting on the table with my box of post cards.

“You have not put them away yet. Why do you not do so and then make an early night of it?”

I suspect I was supposed to make an earlier night of it than I have and I will shortly but I cannot seem to truly rest my mind these days until I have my day recorded. So today … Calanques National Park. According to the brochure I dragged back to put in my keepsake binder, the park was established in 2012 and covers 200 square miles, but only thirty-three square miles of that is land. It is all dramatic landscapes including towering sea cliffs and craggy shores. No gentle environment for your casual hiker though there is something close to that along the road.

I knew I was in for a challenging day when I was informed that Mr. Parnell has provided cake … cake! … for a special treat. I am quite sure this is payback but the other chaperones had some rather rude comments about Mr. Parnell’s commonsense. I didn’t disagree, but nor did I encourage that kind of talk by participating in it. It was a childish thing to do and it could have been dangerous. Thank goodness all but the youngest of our secondary students were able to handle the sugar without becoming completely manic. Unfortunately there were a few that experienced carb crashes through out our day.

We got off the ship without major incident but it was a close call as it was difficult to remind them not to use a voice that could be heard on the other side of the Mediterranean. From there we were bussed to Marseille Tours. We met our guide at the shop, had a coffee and a restroom break before going through your standard safety demonstration. We were shown the Fat E-bikes worked and given a little time to get familiar with it. Seat adjusted, we were given a helmet, yet more safety instructions, and then away we went.

First thing we did was pass by Le Vieux Port. The 2600 year old harbor of Marseille only permits the local busses and bikes. We were also reminded to shout out to the guide for some photo stops if there was something we really wanted to view. And it was shortly after that we made our first photo stop, the Palais du Pharo where Napoleon got his first panoramic view of Marseille. Good thing for coffee because otherwise the students would have begun to doze. Our guide was very into history in general and in particular Napoleonic history.

Our next stop was at Vallon des Auffes on the Boulevard des Dardanelles. It is a typical little fishermen's village where, after some short stories from our guide about the place, monument and the islands at the back, we had about twenty minutes of free time to take pictures of the very scenic landscape.

Anse de la Fausse Monnaie, Traverse de la Fausse Monnaie, is a beautiful creek where we saw see the famous hotel restaurant "Le Petit Nice.” We followed the creek to its end to admire the most beautiful house of Marseille. It is a sprawling, multi-level extravaganza that fits in with its Mediterranean environment. Then we made a quick photo stop at Maregraphe to hear about the historic monument and to take more pictures.

We followed the coast on La Corniche riding our Fat E-bikes, given the occasional shout out to the guide for photo stops. Then we stopped at Zia Concetta Corniche to have a drink on an ice cream. Yes, more sugar. Oh … my … Lord. Thankfully it wasn’t a long stop and we then made our way to Plages du Prado. Beach riding with the fat ebikes was a blast for the kids. Luckily the other people on the beach were familiar with ebikes doing this so gave plenty of clearance because our guide encouraged the kids to really “experience the thrill.” I will admit even I found it fun, but it was difficult to do both … have fun and keep an eye on those under my care. We left the beach and made a very short stop at the Statue de David to catch our breaths and for some instructions o the remainder of our trail.

We followed the coast to finally reach the Parc National des Calanques. First we checked on our booking at a local – and well-reviewed – seafood restaurant. They weren’t ready for us yet so we had about an hour of unscheduled free time to relax at a gorgeous little creek where most of the kids opted to put their feet in the water for a few minutes. The rest of the time we did a very little bit of hiking to visit some WW2 bunkers. We got back just in time for our guide to get the notification the restaurant was ready for us and then it was time to set down to a delicious lunch.

After eating and tipping our hosts quite well, we made a short stop at Calanque de Callelongue for a wonderful panoramic point where we took more pictures. From there we went off-road through an area called "La Campagne Pastré.” Following "Le Canal de Marseille" which is a small stream, we enjoyed riding the Fat E-bikes through off-road little paths in the very heart of nature. We continued through the Parc Borely, a wonderful piece of nature where we saw the odd combination of beavers, parakeets and squirrels. Or it was odd to me. Especially the parakeets who decided that for some reason my crown braid was an airial landing strip of sorts. Need I say the kids thought that hysterical and took a couple of photos of me looking comically alarmed at the birds’ antics. Sigh.

It was nice to take a break shortly thereafter so that I could reinsert the pins in my hair where the beasties with wings tried to remove a couple for construction material. The Abbaye Saint Victor is a fascinating abbey dating from the 5th century and the docents were kind enough to show us their crypts. At Four des Navettes, we tasted some local products of Marseille's oldest bakery dating from 178 AD. The vaulted oven currently in use was built at the end of the 18th century.

We stopped at Maison de l'Echevin de Cabre to learn the story of the Hotel de Cabre, Marseille’s oldest building which dates from 1535. We passed by the InterContinental Marseille for a quick photo stop to capture the most luxurious 5 star hotel in the area. InterContinental hotel of Marseille built in a historic monument. After that we rode all the way back to the tour office and turned in our bikes and picked up copies of a video made by the guide who had been filming from a go-pro camera attached to his helmet.

You know, I believe I might just go make an early night of it after all. The ship is rocking and I’m not entirely certain whether it is the weather or the apple brandy.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 157: June 19 – Barcelona, Spain

What … a … day. We were in port in Barcelona but that’s not where I stayed. I would have loved to have explored the city with my small group … Las Ramblas, the markets, the unusual architecture, ancient locations in the Gothic Quarter, Castell Montjuic … but it was not to be. I have nothing to complain about; I saw some of Barcelona with the Bairds. And what I did see was magnificent. It is a good thing that I took as many pictures as I did because Derrick wanted every detail. The problem is that as wonderful as it was, it seemed to make me yearn for the one thing I couldn’t have … Vit.

I took the Science Club to Montserrat, Spain which is a day trip outside of Barcelona. We arrived in port early and I’m glad because it was a bit of a mess to get our tickets on the Ferrocarrils de la Generalitat (R5 Line) train via Plaça d’Espanya to the Montserrat-Aeri for the cable car. Coming back we returned via a stop that was one beyond that one. Basically going up we took the train and then the cable car, coming down we took the funicular and then the train. I was the one given the option to choose whether we would take hired cars, a bus, or the train. Frankly I’m glad I decided on the train because there was a wreck on the highway and traffic was backed up quite a bit. Instead of 90 minutes, it took those traveling by car or bus nearly two and a half hours one-way.

In a nutshell Montserrat Mountain is located about 30 miles northwest of Barcelona on Montserrat Mountain; Montserrat translates as the 'Serrated Mountain.' The road is full of switchbacks and narrow roads despite it being a major highway which results in long travel times given the distance. This unique rock formation, sawed and sculpted by thousands of years of wind and rain, is most famously home to a Benedictine monastery that is an important Catholic pilgrimage spot thanks to its 12th-century wooden statue of La Moreneta (The Black Madonna), Catalonia's patron saint. Aside from its religious and cultural importance, the mountain also boasts unbeatable views from its peaks.

Off the train and onto the cable car it was. The cable car from the bottom of Montserrat mountain to Montserrat monastery first started running in 1930. It travels at a speed of 5 meters per second and at a gradient of up to 45%. The cable car journey lasts exactly five minutes. It is worth mentioning that this is a trip that is not for the faint-hearted – we travelled 1350 meters up the mountain in a small hanging car that we shared with approximately 20 other people. Our ears popped as the car raced up the side of the mountain and the ground below dropped away. I was rather glad to get off if you must know the truth. Then it was on to the first part of our excursion.

Montserrat is a Benedictine monastery nearly 1000 years old. Our first stop after stepping off the cable car was to visit the “Black Madonna.” The entire time we were there we kept hearing snatches of Gregorian chants. Very atmospheric. After our guided tour of the monastery and a brief overview of the main places to stop, we had two hours of free time to explore on our own. Montserrat is thriving with culture: paintings, gold lamps, decorated chapels and so on. The students also enjoyed the library that held over 300,000 books and the museum where El Greco, Dalí, Picasso and other treasures - including those from ancient Egypt - could be found. We also enjoyed the world-famous Escolania de Montserrat Boys’ Choir. Strangely there were also bars, restaurants and shops located there in addition to the monastery and basilica. I call it strange because we had to keep absolute silence when on the grounds of the monastery, but outside and only a few feet away the bars and restaurants gave things an air of jocularity bordering on nearly sound overload.

I was in the middle of helping the students with some shopping when I felt my wrist thumping. It startled me for a moment until I realized it was my iWatch. I casually looked down and it was a message from Vit. “You are not looking at the post cards. Tell Aiden to monitor the young females. And get that other chaperone’s nose out of the … whatever she is looking at. You will take time for yourself.” It was then that I realized they were piping our tour into the ship’s televisions once again and Vit must have been keeping an eye on me.

Still in casual-mode I grabbed the postcards that I had already been glancing at and then suffered a little hilarity from the students who witnessed my transaction. Apparently my postcard fetish has become quite well known. I don’t mind. Not much anyway. I just wish it didn’t distract from the job I am supposed to be doing. Nor did I mind Vit’s seeming nosiness, heavy-handed though others might find it. To me it reveals his love language – presents and gifts – and it meant that even if he couldn’t be there, he wanted me to have things. And while I don’t need “things” his continued attention in this area gave me an odd comfort.

After our free time we met up with a different guide who took us on a nature walk. But first we had to take the Funicular de Sant Joan. This funicular took us on a steep journey up the side of the mountain, allowing us a bird’s eye view of the entire site. Once we got to the top we stepped out into the Montserrat Natural Park. The “walk” was actually more of a hike and I was glad that I’d made all of the students bring two water bottles rather than the normal single one. The “serrated mountain” towers 4,000 feet into the sky, with its jagged peaks. It’s a mesmerizing sight from miles away, and even better up close. This multi-peaked mountain has unique caves, stairs and paths along with its own weird shapes and rounded rocks. We spent two hours with the naturalist who was quite pleased with the many questions the students peppered him with.

We went back down by way of the funicular, only to catch another funicular, this one called Funicular de Santa Cova. This funicular travels down the side of the mountain from Montserrat Monastery to the start of a walk that allows you to visit the cave of Santa Cova: an important religious shrine where a visitation of the image of the Virgin Mary is said to have taken place. I know I’ve been on several funiculars, but I still find them fun and in some cases slightly hilarious. Imagine two cable cars moving at the same time from opposing ends, acting as a counterbalance to one another. I thought the morning’s cable car was daunting due to its height, but I must admit that the funicular … well my goodness, it was steep.

Once we arrived back at the monastery we had to hurry to catch our ride down to the train. The Cremallera de Montserrat is a rack railway that travels between Monistrol de Montserrat Train Station at the bottom of the mountain and the Montserrat Monastery, or in our case vice versa. It was a twenty-minute journey that allowed us to take in our surroundings as we wound all the way down the side of the mountain.

It was on the way down that I was informed of a change in plans, from none other than Polina. I could hear the irritation in her voice.

“There is something going on and direct travel from Montserrat is being routed through check points. Do you understand?”

Rather honestly I responded, “No. But so long as you tell me things are changing that is all I need.”

She gave a pause and then she said, “Very good. A full report will be available when you return to the ship. Diplomat Baird has made other arrangements. If you will go to the ticket counter a package and driver should be waiting for you there. Confirm when you pick it up.”

Ugh. I thought at the time that it had something to do with the accident but didn’t hear the full story until later in the day. I could see Barney’s hand in the arrangements, they were quite detailed and the driver was strangely enough a former employee of Mr. Baird’s though we didn’t speak of it as I didn’t know him from the O’Meg. We were off to Oller del Mas, a roundabout way to get back to Barcelona.

After a short van ride we arrived at Oller de Mas winery restaurant to dine on a full, multi-course Spanish meal. We were all quite hungry and the food was delicious. Within walking distance from the restaurant, after a short and easy hike in the woods, we reached the 10th century castle of Oller del Mas for a tour of the vineyards. On the tour we visited the winery, some private parts of the Castle, the production plant, the barrels room, and the old tanks where wine was made in medieval times. The other two chaperones with us partook of the wine tasting, the
students and I tasted some of the local grape juice. The guide had to go get one of the vintner and the vigneron in order to answer some of the students’ questions. Both men were ecstatic at finding people their age who desired to understand some of the more scientific aspect of winemaking.

Before we left I also picked up several crates of wine that Mr. Baird had ordered. Well I thought it was Mr. Baird. In truth it was several people, and one of them was Vit. I was surprised to see that part of Vit’s purchase included several bottles of vermouth as well as some beer that was more of a grape ale. Since I didn’t know that Vit was part of the buyers’ group, I purchased some organic walnuts, a couple of bottles of EVO, and a bottle of one of their less expensive red wines.

I finally received an “all clear” call and we quickly reboarded the van we’d been in and headed back to the port. The students were each given a bottle of juice and a small loaf of bread to “tide them over”. I think it was the owner’s way of saying he approved of the students and their curiosity about what really goes into winemaking.

Thank goodness someone was waiting for us as we were dropped off or I have no idea how I would have gotten several cases of wine to and then through security. I was again lucky that Vit met me at the top of the ramp to take charge of the cases. That blasted handcart was heavy.

“What are you doing?” Vit asked me with an aggravated look.

I counted to ten before answering, “Mr. Baird ordered some wine.”

“I am aware. Where is the steward that was sent to help?”

Good thing I wasn’t as snarky as I was thinking of being. “There was a hold up at Customs and he had to get to his shift.”

He took the cart from me and started pushing it. I called, “Wait. I have to check the students in and then …”

“I will handle this,” he said, frowning when he realized just how heavy the handcart had been. “I have ordered dinner to be delivered to the cabin.” Perhaps realizing how brusque his tone had been he stopped and changed tact. “Do … er …”

Understanding that his irritation was not at me and that he was asking my opinion about dinner I told him, “If that is what you want, that is fine with me. I’ll be as quick as I can. If I’m late, do not wait for me. I’m sure you’ve had a full day.”

“As have you. I will wait.”

And so it was and it wasn’t from Polina that I learned what caused the day’s itinerary change, but from Vit as we ate dinner.

He growled, “I was not pleased with Parnell today. I would say that he has …”

Vit’s turn of phrase was more vulgar than nearly anything that I’ve ever heard him say. I was careful not to reprimand him – I certainly am not the arbiter of what is right and proper given what I’ve thought a few times in recent months – but my shock must have signaled my concern.

He sighed. “Nii. I have no anger at you for this day. It is Parnell. He did not relay potential problems before you left the ship. He claims that he assumed Polina would ‘do her job’ and that security was not his.”

“He said what?! And what was it that he should have told me?”

Vit stabbed the steak he was eating and I worried the knife was going to go completely through the plate. “A Spanish diplomat had sent a message to his office that she’d gotten word of a potential check point between Barcelona and Montserrat. The Catalon independent movement has been making waves again. It is one of the reasons why I was glad for you to miss Barcelona despite having to go further away to do it.”

“And? I guess I’m not understanding.”

“Parnell should have informed you of potential travel issues.” He sawed at his steak like it was an old growth tree trunk he was felling. “Then there was another miscommunication, and the diplomat did not get word to Polina until after you had left the ship.”

It took a moment but I tried to put things into perspective. “Then why not let me know then?”

“Because it was understood that Parnell had notified you.”

“Er … okay. You assumed that as well or is that why you were monitoring me?”

“You were bothered by that?” he asked and I heard something in his tone that warned me we would get off-topic if I wasn’t careful.

“If you mean was I bothered with you watching the excursion? Nii. I mean literally that you must have assumed I was aware of the situation as well or you would have mentioned it.”

He cleared his throat, realizing he was caught by his own semantics. “Yes, I assumed you knew. I did not question that other arrangements had been made. I should have.”

“You can’t do your job and my job too,” I told him surprising him to some extent. “I heard on my end by listening to the guides and docents in Montserrat that there was an accident on the road up just prior to Cremallera de Montserrat and an hour or so later that there was some kind of checkpoint in the same area. I thought the two were related but I wasn’t sure, and neither was anyone else though that was the going theory being discussed. Were there problems?”

“Nii,” he said slowly starting to eat his food rather than grind it to mast. “But Parnell does not help himself. This is another mark against him. Polina said she is not recommending him for the position he has applied for on another Peace Ship.”

Slowly I said, “He started out being a good administrator, very organized. He is still organized as far as I can tell but … I suspect some of his … hmmm … personal quirks make working in this environment unhealthy for him. The population is too small aboard ship and may trigger his tendency to … er …”

“There will be no further ‘er’ where you are concerned. I did not even have to say a word. Polina was most displeased. You did not tell me you were still uncomfortable with the man.”

I could hear the hurt in his voice despite him trying to hide it. “I was uncomfortable because of … Vit …” I stopped and sighed. “It was a … professional thing. He didn’t do anything physical or what most would consider overt. I also … look how am I supposed to hold up my end here if I’m forever running to you to cover for me? They give you a hard enough time … and don’t bother denying it because I’ve seen their faces when they don’t think I’m looking, and sometimes when they know I am. I am not being sent home.” I glanced at his face and it was obvious I’d caught him by surprise once again. “Let me guess, you think I’m exaggerating.”

“Not … not if you can explain it to me why these feelings persist.”

I tried. “Because whether you understand or not, there are some people on this ship that … that … oh for heaven’s sake. I have nothing to be jealous of. And no, I’m not being insulting on purpose.”

“I know that Kokhana.”

“Well good because I’m just not going to be separated from you if I can help it. But in order to do that I need to perform more than just adequately in my position since apparently many still believe that I didn’t earn it.”

His eyebrows came down. “That was taken care of months ago.”

“Sure it was,” I said rather more nastily than either one of us expected. I said, “Pardon my tone, it is nothing I’m holding against you, just the opposite. You didn’t deserve the trouble that was caused. And frankly, whether it is juvenile or not, it is obvious I am still sensitive to it. But even if you take that out you must realize there are still people watching us … me. There are people that … that … I mean even Barney has grown extremely cold. I suppose I could put it down to stress but …”

He snorted. “Yes, I’m aware that Barney is being herself. You never have faced how she can be. But you are correct. She is being caught in an uncomfortable situation.”

“Henry?”

“No. Sofia Rossi.”

“The nanny? That Sofia?!”

“Yes. Only do not call her the nanny. Or should I say only the nanny.”

“So Mr. Baird and Sofia are still … er …”

“Yes, they are still er’ing. And from what I understand from Henry it is quite serious. But due to the politics, both here on the ship and back in the UK, publicly displaying how serious the relationship is has become … complicated.”

“And she is being asked to act as go-between.”

Vit nodded. Then I had another thought. “And Barney blames me because I’m not somehow involved in the drama.”

He nodded once again. “That would be my guess.”

“Oh brother,” I groaned. “This is worse than a soap opera. I want ice cream.”

He blinked at my non sequitur. “Ice cream?”

“Yes. Chocolate ice cream and a glass of red wine. I brought you a bottle from the winery.” That’s when I found out some of the bottles I dragged back were Vit’s. And it is when Vit found out I was out of Midol and perhaps more sensitive than I might have otherwise been. He actually seemed relieved to find out why I was rather cranky at the entire mess, rather than it being something that he did or was missing.

I still feel like I have some reason to be “cranky” about everything but I’m willing to keep my mouth closed. If I have one talent it is that I know how not to fight, no matter how poked or prodded I am. I am just coming to the end of my patience. I suppose that I should be treasuring the experiences that I am having but it is becoming more and more difficult to pretend that being separated for days on end from Vit is tolerable. If we were back in Florida there would be days off that we could spend together … together and alone. Even my perpetually nosey family would give us some alone time as if it were simply the proper thing to do. But not here. I’m getting full up. Even the forced days off by HR is not enough to help me restore my equilibrium.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 158: June 20 – Valencia, Spain

Needless to say I am exhausted. And my rear bumper is sore. Gah! Had this been the students I’m sure I could find something to amuse myself out of my fit of crankies. At least I was able to find Pamprin in a local drug store. It isn’t Midol but close enough. And where were we? Valencia, Spain. Thank goodness the pharmacist was understanding, but I have to tell you that discussing my symptoms with a man that had to have been in his 80s was as uncomfortable as it was discussing this issue with Derrick. Bah! Having a big brother that is a doctor is not the gift most people would think it is. Some of his questions are annoyingly on point. Apparently he read between the lines on a few of my “snarky” comments and suggested I up my iron intake. He wanted to know if I still had my supplements and I lied, lied, lied and told him I hadn’t run out. I feel awful lying but … oh forget it. I did it, I’ll live with it. He’s not here and doesn’t understand.

Back on topic. I’m tired. Today the students had a special performance to attend and I wasn’t needed so I had some adult groups that needed a security/guide. I had three mixed-groups – mixed as in both civilian and military personnel – and all three excursions fell into the active range. A Segway tour, a bike tour, and an underground river.

When I walked into the cabin this evening I fell on the bed, completely spent. Vit thought I was being amusing for his benefit and asked me, “Did you have fun today?”

I was as tempted to lie to him as I did to Derrick, but I just didn’t have the energy to pull it off.

“I’m not sure. I enjoyed it despite the work. It just wasn’t … fun … precisely. I miss you and I working together, like it was with the Marchands and the Bairds. That is my definition of fun. Where we are both experiencing the day together. I suppose I am being ungrateful. I don’t mean to be because I’m not. I just would prefer us to be together. Unfortunately you married a Needy Nelly.”

He was silent for a moment before saying, “Kokhana … I miss you in my day as well. We should make more time together.” And then the man asked me if I wanted to go for a walk around the deck. Lucky for him I was too tired to give him the snark I was thinking in my head. Then I mentally shrugged and said, “Sure.”

In retrospect I am glad I did. We avoided some of the high drama that was taking place in the cafeteria because instead of a full meal he got a burger and I a salad at the grill. He also got me a chocolate shake. With strawberries. And whip cream. And a cherry on top. He looked at me and asked if I felt better and I nearly laughed at his hopeful look. Unfortunately, it was ten minutes later that we were both called to help break up a food fight … foooooood fight … in the mess hall. Among adults. We waded in and found the center of the ruckus was several women fighting. And this was no simple cat fight.

The worst offender nearly sliced Vit’s head off with a broken tray. That’s when I pulled out my baton and took her down with a painful blow to her knee. She snarled, “Kučka!”

I growled right back at her, “Odstupite ili ću učiniti u glavu ono što sam uradio na koljena. I ovaj put neće povući bilo kakve udarce.”

I must have sounded like a cat coughing up a hair ball I was speaking so rapidly. Nevertheless it didn’t stop me from countering her attack. She was good, I’ll give her that. She got into my space and I couldn’t swing the baton. What she failed to take into account is that I didn’t need the baton to defend myself or take her down. The chop to her throat left her gagging on all fours. I was giving serious consideration to kicking her in the behind and Polina – who had by that time shown up – quickly got the woman up and being dragged to the brig.

She shouted, “Opredelit' etu zhenshchinu!” [Identify that woman!] When no one responded she wanted to know why not.

Vit and Yegor were on the other side of the room so I quietly explained, “Those within hearing don’t understand Russian.”

She drew breath to say something else but instead slapped her forehead and muttered, “Na etoy nedele stanovitsya vse luchshe i luchshe.” [This week just keeps getting better and better.]

She then asked me, “You understood her? Can you at least give me that?”

I nodded and reported, “She’s Bosnian. I’ve had her in my group as a chaperone but it was early on. I haven’t had any interaction with her since.”

The woman had been in civilian clothes but they got her identity as she was being checked into the brig. She was a clerk in the Bosnian diplomat’s office. The reason for her seeming irrational behavior is that she’d been accused of spying on the Bosnian diplomat for the Serbian office. One of the women she’d been fighting with was Serbian. Old prejudices had escalated the argument – the woman that I’d taken down was a “Bosniak” – and then there was some stray hair that caused all four women to attack each other. What that was is up to Polina to find out. I believe the phrase is that it is “above my pay grade.”

I am exhausted just going back over the details. And poor Vit is even worse off. Reports he needed to review earlier so he could get to sleep prior to his early morning shift must be gone over now. He has told me to go to bed but I said I would after I finished my journaling and a few other housekeeping chores. He acquiesced so easily that I knew he wanted the company. He and some of the other men had caught heck for using kid gloves on the female combatants. They were not happy, but it is a good reminder that just because they are gentlemen does not mean that they will be dealing with ladies.

One of the SOs happened to try and run her mouth because I did not get called on the carpet as her husband had. I said, “I won’t be discussing this security incident with you. You may make a request to speak with Chief Ivanov if you have a problem.” I nearly told her to take a walk in my shoes, but the comment would have flown over her head.

I believe she was a little shocked at how blunt I was and that I wouldn’t give her the “conversation” she wanted. As I said, I am losing my patience. And I think if I want to get any sleep I need to calm down, so I’ll revert back to recording the day which is all I meant to do in the first place.

I started the day leading a two and a half hour Segway tour. As usual there was the initial introduction and safety course by the guide. What wasn’t usual was how … um … clumsy most of the group was. It was obvious none of them had ever done anything like this. And that’s fine because Segways are normally easy for most novices to handle. But this group? They did not appear to be genetically predisposed to activities requiring balance.

Once we finally got going and I was less worried about riders falling off or running into traffic, we headed to Turia Park and Gardens. This is one of the most beautiful and largest urban parks not only in Valencia but also in the whole of Spain. Crossed by eighteen bridges that represent the history of the city, the one-time riverbed passes by the major monuments and museums on both banksides.

While going through the magnificent park, we saw a unique mixture of gardens, sports areas, footpaths, and romantic spots that left me wondering what Vit was doing. After about half an hour of riding through the park, we reached The City of Arts and Sciences area. This is a huge entertainment-based complex that blends the scientific, architectural, and cultural buildings. Those objects are the masterpiece of the famous Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava, and they turn out to be the city’s icons. Each of them has a unique structure and theme. The most popular edifices include: L’Hemisfèric, Oceanogràfic, L’Umbracle, El Museu de les Ciències Príncipe Felipe, El Palau de les Arts Reina Sofia, El Pont de l’Assut de l’Or, and L’Àgora.

After sightseeing in the complex for about an hour or so, we headed to the Sea Port which was the ending location of the tour. Before that we made a short circuit of the area. The route passed by some of the most alluring beaches, such as La Malvarrosa, Las Arenas, and El Cabañal as well as the old docks and charming port as well. We also passed by La Marina Real Juan Carlos I, the Veles e Vents building, and the clock building. We turned in the Segways and I turned loose the first group after making sure they knew how to get back to the ship and the contact number in case they got lost.

It was a good thing that I brought an energy bar and a couple bottles of water as I didn’t even have time to grab a bite of anything before the van showed up to pick me up having already loaded the personnel for the second excursion. A 3.5 hour trip to Cuevas de San Jose.

We quickly departed Valencia city to explore the largest underground river in Europe. First we drove to Vall d'Uixo, the village where the cave is. Once we arrived, there were rest rooms, a coffee shop, a gift shop, and then a quick review of the safety rules as well as putting on the spelunking equipment. I thought it was a bit excessive given the overview I received last night, but I was glad to have the hard hat several times. Instead of boats we were going in single and double kayaks, something I had not expected. I should not have been surprised, my group was all military personnel, not even any civilian partners, and they were looking for an adventure. And of course that’s when I found out everyone else had a change of clothes with them. Good thing I’ve become talented at blank-face or I am sure some of them would have had something to say.

They called what we did espeleo kayaking, essentially we were kayaking underground. Try explaining that to someone. Also try explaining that photos were not allowed. However, I did get a concession after speaking with a manager that our media person would take footage and turn a copy over to them in sections that didn’t show the face of my crew and then they could use it as they saw fit. But my crew would also get a copy for their personal memories but would not post it online. What I didn’t explain was that members of the Peace Mission were not allowed to post to social media. That was more complication than the negotiations needed.

Tower was a member of the excursion and later told me that I impressed some of the others by how quickly I handled it and that it actually turned out to their benefit. I basically said, “you don’t ask, you don’t get” and either way politeness doesn’t cost. I hope that the media department is as “kind” as the other personnel. I get tired of always being at odds with those people.

As for the trek itself, I must say it is a good memory. There were lights strategically placed the entire length of our voyage. It made the water a bright blue rather than murky and lending itself to stories of monsters. I’m afraid that I’ve watched too many movies that have a subterranean creature as the bad guy. We were even encouraged to swim in a few areas where the lights were brightest and even some were underwater.

In the middle of our trek we got out of the kayaks and explored a series of dry caves with our naturalist guide before returning to the kayaks and having a surprise of a musical “concert.” When the guitar player asked if anyone wanted to try everyone pointed at me. I explained I didn’t play guitar, only violin. That’s when he called someone in another boat that was there and – surprise, not – they had a violin case. Well I would have appeared churlish if I hadn’t played along at that point. The violin was in sad shape, obviously one that was kept around but not taken care of. I tune by ear thank goodness. I also insisted that I would accompany him, he really was an excellent guitar player. After a moment of consultation we would up playing Romanza (Spanish Romance).

I tried to send Vit a quick text that I was playing it for him but he didn’t get it until after we left the caves. He saw the performance and was quite … uh hem … demonstrative later that night.

All I can say is that I am glad that I took the option of using a wet suit otherwise the idea of spending the remainder of the day in port in a wet uniform held absolutely no appeal. Back to Valencia we drove and it gave me a few moments to start my reports so it would not take forever to finish up and go and get some dinner once back on board.

They dropped me off to wait on my next group while they headed back to the ship. I didn’t have a long wait at all, a minute at most, and then my last group got out of a van and we headed into the bike shop to be fitted with helmets and ear pieces that would allow us to hear or guide during a 3-hour ride through the city.

Our first stop was the Plaza de la Virgen to see the amazing Cathedral and hear several stories about the area that make up that historical part of the city. Next was a quick stop at the Plaza del Mercado (Placa del Mercat) for food and a couple of market stops. Some of the group were annoyed that the stop wasn’t longer but they managed to keep it to themselves (except for their complaints to me as if I was responsible). However there wasn’t a thing I could do about it because we were off to Calle Caballeros and area known for its street art, the tapas bars, and vintage shops.

Then it was on to Torres de Quart where were given recommendations for the best Paella in town. Yum. The smell of the restaurants was incredible and I became almost painfully hungry. We also cycled passed the Instituto Valencia d'Arte Modern (IVAM) as our guide told us about all the art in Valencia, where it is, when it's free. Valencia can be quite expensive but if you plan you can cut a lot of corners off the budget.

At the Centre del Carme we visited a quirky house for Cats before hurrying on to Torres de Serranos which is near the main gates to the city of Valencia. Our media person took some excellent photos of those on the excursion and I got a few of my own via selfie.

Our guide really kept a tight schedule and bombarded us with lots of information between short stops, especially where to find the best food and drink that seemed to be a personal passion for him. He told us about the awesome River park. Where to get the best local cocktail drinks. As we cycled passed one of Spain's finest city palaces he recommended great places for breakfast in the area. As we passed the Old University and The Church of the Patriarch we got recommendations for places for lunch in the area. As we cycled through La Glorieta gardens he told us of the emblem of valencia and I recommend the best places to have the local "soft drink" Horchata.

The Puente de las Flores, or flower bridge, was our gateway to the River Turia Park. Known as the “beating heart of Valencia”, River Turia Park gave us the opportunity to pass the Palau de la Música and Gulliver, on our way to the futurist City of Arts & Sciences. The Ciudad de las Artes was another photo stop.

From the park we headed to the marina. While cycling through the trendy cabanyal area he once again recommended lots of places for eating and drinking before we hit the beach for our final stop. At Playa de Las Arenas we actually did more than talk about food. We stopped for a drink, nuts & olives. It was a good thing that I knew this was the last stop of the day or I might have taken our guides advice and hunted up a meal for myself. All of the activity and only having an energy bar I was quite hungry, or as Polina said “had my stomach rubbing against my jaw bone.” I still don’t know whether she does that on purpose or whether she really doesn’t know what she is saying but after a chuckle I left to go find Vit.

Charlie also got a good chuckle out of Polina’s turn of phrase. One of Poppa’s favorite “complaints” when he was hungry was to say his stomach is rubbing against his backbone. It was a good memory and I was glad that it was good for Charlie as well. He sounds like he is holding up but I can’t help but be concerned at the turn his life has taken. Perhaps some time apart will bring some commonsense to Katrina’s spending habits and those of their kids. It isn’t my place to say anything though, certainly not give false hope. I never had much to do with her parents but apparently they had never thought Charlie was quite polished enough for their family. Yes, Charlie is a little rough around the edges, but it only adds to his charm in my opinion. He certainly worked hard for what they had.

Back aboard ship everything happened as I’ve already explained and poor Vit is nodding off over his reports. I’ll see if I can help and if not, perhaps convince him it is time for bed. I found out a few minutes ago – via a note slipped under our door – both Vit and I are “off” tomorrow making it possible to join an excursion group. I think I would rather sleep in but I suppose I’ll need to see what he wants to do.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 159: June 21 – Alicante, Spain (Sunday)

I almost spoiled the day. Almost. I nearly asked him if there was some reason he didn’t want to be alone with me, especially after the conversation we had yesterday. Luckily for me I decided to keep my mouth shut and simply try to enjoy the day. I guess this is simply another example of our personalities differing. I’m more of an introvert though capable of socializing as necessary. Vit isn’t necessarily an extrovert, but he does seem to enjoy socializing more than I do. I don’t know why I continue to find that surprising, but I do. I like who he is, why do I insist on expecting from him what I don’t necessarily like in myself?

Vit had us join a group of XOs, the ones he socializes with most often. Unfortunately, while I like the XOs, I was not thrilled to have their SOs come along. No, I’m not jealous of them regardless of their pokes about my appearance. Unlike them I must wear my uniform at all times, and unlike the men my uniform makes me look frumpy. I’m sorry but it does. I think it is my height. I wind up looking like a plodding little pony. I know it and most of the time it doesn’t bother me because I know what lies beneath the clothes. It does bother me when it feels like it reflects poorly on Vit who could make a potato sack look good. It also bothers me when it appears to make people think I am weak, as if I only wear the uniform to make up for other shortcomings.

We took a “Best of Alicante” tour; not quite as active as I would have expected given the company we were in but apparently some consideration was taken for the SOs who were not as enthusiastic as their partners when it comes to energetic activities.

Our first stop was at Explanada de Espana. We took a walk as our guide told us to prepare to be dazzled by more than 6 million ceramic tiles on the promenade floor. As our walking tour continued on the Spanish Boulevard on the seaside, we had the opportunity to get a taste of Alicante’s local cuisine. We began with an Horchata made with tiger nut. Next came a taste of the local, traditional almond cake. As we walked off “dessert for breakfast” we admired the Baroque façade of the Town Hall and the modernist Casa Carbonell, one of the city’s most striking buildings, or so our guide told us. The hour allotted was quickly over and we continued on.

We took a lift up to the fortifications of Santa Bárbara Castle, a spectacular structure sitting 166 meters above sea level, offering sweeping views of the Alicante's bay., located on the strategic mountain of Benacantil. We got a gorgeous panoramic views of the city. Another hour quickly passed.

We made a quick stop at Alicante Town Hall to admire the baroque work of civil architects. The Hall was built on the site of the former city hall in the 18th century. From there it was on to Plaza de Gabriel Miro, along the Calle San Fernando. If there is a particularly romantic and evocative square in Alicante, that is Gabriel Miró Square. It is a special place that shares the charm with the nearby Portal de Elche. Our guide took us to visit a hidden wine cellar where we were encouraged to become an expert in Alicante wine with a customized lesson and tasting session, led by a local connoisseur who truly knows the ways of the grape. Yum. The wine was delicious. Obviously I imbibed since I wasn’t on duty. A few comments from the peanut gallery – the SOs – caught the attention of Vit and a couple of the XOs that they were given pointed looks. I ignored it – something that seemed to irritate them – and enjoyed feeding Vit bits of local products such as Iberian cured ham, cheese and dried fruits while we had the wine tasting. Vit was pleased with the attention and it was worth coming out of my shell a bit to do so publicly.

Next it was a brief stop at San Nicolas de Bari Procathedral for a walk down to the quaint old quarter of the Barrio de Santa Cruz where we discovered quiet streets of colorful buildings. The guide helped us to experience a typically Mediterranean way of life while telling us the 17th century Co-cathedral was built on the remains of a much older mosque. Most of the times I find in history it is the other way around so it was an interesting contrast.

At Barrio Santa Cruz we were given the opportunity to taste two traditional tapas with a glass of beer at the old town famous as “El barrio”. The Santa Cruz neighborhood was one the most charming places in Alicante that we visited. At least in my opinion. The neighborhood has a very special sailor air, if such a thing exists. Almost all houses are white with colorfully painted pots full of flowers. There was a very old-fashioned feel to the place; where neighbors take care of each other and of the neighborhood, and it shows.

At Mercado Central we saw the city’s food market area. It was a feast for the senses; a mixture of movement, smells, tastes and sounds difficult to forget. Even if we hadn’t spent some time purchasing a few odds and ends, It is worth it for no other reason than to admire the architecture of the building and get a view of the daily life of the people of Alicante.

It was our last spot that near disaster struck. I had noticed some youths that stood out both for their age, how they were congregating together, and because they were dressed all in black. My security training kicked in and I maneuvered our group together with the SOs in the center. Not even Vit realized what I was doing until it was almost too late. I had been taping on my comm but no one was responding. We had only been outside the market when the group decided to make a move. They pulled down black face masks from beneath their hoodies and tried a bum’s rush.

Why they focused on me I’m not sure. Perhaps they recognized my insignia or it was the uniform or I would be a more shocking target. Whatever their reasons they bit off more than they could chew. The first one to attack didn’t get back up. He had to be taken away by ambulance. A baton to the face will do that. I had to split my attention too much to be able to effect as harsh a defense against the remaining ones. I’m afraid I was rather single-minded and when they got too close to use the baton the krav maga became my tool of choice.

The other XOs were similarly employed but I was the only security officer in the group and even Vit admitted he was surprised at the attack. He later was grumpy and chagrined at his lack of situational awareness. I asked him why.

“Because my wife had to, as Grover would say, save my butt.”

“No. It was not your wife who did so. Your wife would have preferred to have taken you and run into the nearest building and slam the door and let others handle it. It was Chief Veta Dymtrus that was on duty and she was only able to do so because she knew that Chief Vit Dymtrus is more than capable in his own right.” He opened his mouth and closed it several times before allowing the matter to rest.

And I suppose I was lucky. There were two local, off-duty policia who witnessed the entire incident and came to our aid. They also recognized three of the seven youths involved. I’m not sure how they recognized them, but it was apparent that word went out and that they knew where the youths could normally be found. And they were found … at a local medical clinic. I was not gentle with either my baton or the krav maga. I was also lucky in that I knew all the words to use … in Spanish … to show my personal and Peace Mission’s appreciation for the Spanish policia showing up when they did and thwarting the youths while preventing a potential international incident. Yeah. So I remembered my old skills from working at the Foundation and all those times with the Marchands when I was in company with so many high flyers.

Surprisingly the Spanish officials didn’t hold any of us. When a reporter made it beyond the barrier I quickly gave them something to run with.

“The local authorities obviously understand the danger to their citizens by these misguided youths. Undoubtedly local media can aid in revealing who is trying to turn them into useful tools for their own agenda that apparently is instilling a complete disregard for the families and businesses that reside in this city. It is very sad, and putting their own families at risk is just as horrifying.”

A little over the top? Yes. Of course. But as I said I was trying to give them something to run with … run away with … so that they didn’t hamper the Peace Mission. Or to be honest, make any of us out to be troublemakers that would need to be held for questioning. Which didn’t happen because it was wrapped up in a nice, neat package.

On the other hand I did get grilled when I got back onboard ship that was amazingly only an hour late leaving port. The only result of that was a “request” to keep a low profile from here on out. I assured them that the last thing I wanted to be was a nail looking for a hammer and that I took my position as a member of the Peace Mission very seriously. I did not want to see any of my family drawn into the kind of violence that the Peace Mission was seeking to prevent, that I appreciated their efforts and had no desire to make their jobs harder. Again, I must have said the right thing because rather than a reprimand I have a letter of appreciation in my personnel file.

“Stop laughing Polina, it isn’t funny. I feel grilled and crispy all the way through.”

It took her a few more minutes to stop. “I think I will use you more to deal with local authorities Mladshaya Sestra. You are surprisingly adept at saying what they want to hear.”

I snorted. “I’ve had to deal with too many people like that for too long not to have some idea of how to make nice with people with terminal crankies.”

She chuckled. “Terminal crankies. I will have to remember that one. And speaking of, let this ‘review’ come to an end and I go deal with my husband’s ‘crankies’ as he now complains we do not spend enough time together.”

“How … er …”

“Yes?”

“Polina, do you ever feel like you and Yegor don’t get enough time together? You’re always working and when you aren’t he is. How do you … um … manage it?”

She sighed. “Not always well. Has Vit said something?”

I shook my head. “No. Or at least barely anything.”

“Ah, so it is you who misses him.” She stippled her fingers and sighed once again. “I am not the best for such advice. Yegor and I have had to work through this many times. Too many. And then we came to an understanding. Or, mostly it is Yegor that has been understanding as our careers took us different but similar directions. Getting assigned to the Peace Mission was one such time for us. At least now I can say we sleep in the same bed most nights. Before we were apart far too much for a marriage to last.”

“I don’t want there to be years of this.”

“Net. It is not a good thing. But … try to be understanding. Life is very … complicated. Your husband is learning that you are more than you were when you first came together. Age, experience … and exceeding expectations in a job that was not of your choice. And … if I had to guess … you did it much so that you could be with him. Only?”

I sighed. “Only I’m the one that always seems to be off ship and busy. Is that what you are trying to say?”

“Yes. I am not saying your feelings are wrong or you should not listen to them. But, I have learned as you Americans say the hard way, that in things of marriage it is best to try and understand the other side as well. Not to mention a man’s pride can be a thing too easily harmed by the women in his life. It gives you something to think on, yes?”

Unfortunately yes. And I have thought about it. I just don’t know what more I can do. Am I supposed to be less in my job? This is so confusing. You’d think we’d have worked these types of problems out. It seems marriage is going to be a constant work in progress.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 160: June 22 – Malaga, Spain

I tell you that today was lovely, even discounting the mischievousness of some of the younger secondary students and how cranky it was making the upper classmen. It was still better than dealing with the adults, or at least more enjoyable. There are a couple of women that I am ready to chuck overboard. Makes me sound old and cranky, and perhaps a little jealous, but that’s the way I feel.

After my discussion with Polina yesterday I met Vit and asked if he wanted to have dinner in the officer’s lounge. He seemed surprised, but then obviously pleased. Ugh. I did my best. Really I did. It was with the best of intentions. Or at least I call myself doing my best with good intentions; but, I had meant for us to have dinner together – alone – not to have dinner with the XOs and their SOs. I couldn’t tell him that however. Vit seemed so happy. But truthfully, I am privately frustrated at how blind he is at the obvious cold shoulder that many of the SOs are giving me. Last night was no exception. And no, it isn’t my imagination despite that sounding petulant. I was never so relieved to be called away as I was when Polina called me in to have a meeting about the next country on the Peace Mission itinerary. Vit was mildly annoyed at first but he and the other XOs had started watching a sporting event on the Vid screens in the bar and he was easily distracted.

After meeting with Polina I simply went back to the cabin rather than trying to re-insert myself into the group. I had walked by the lounge but Vit was in the middle of the others and they were still enthralled with the match they were watching and the SOs were gossiping and doing cocktails. Shudder. I was nearly ill at the idea of trying to join that group. Instead, I went back to the cabin and then sent a txt to Vit to let him know I was out of the meeting, but I didn’t expect him to leave the game. I received an emoji “thumbs up” that he’d gotten my message and then proceeded to hop in the shower and wash my hair and take care of some other personal hygiene.

I felt productive knowing that I wouldn’t have to “bow and scrape” for an audience so, as my hair dried, I sponged our uniforms and then pressed them. Our uniforms, or at least mine, need to be cleaned fully more often but a sponge will have to do until they get the laundry on our deck fixed. The laundry service is very backed up – or so I heard from the SOs who glared at me when Vit said I did all our laundry and the XOs gave their SOs some pointed looks. I am thankful that Vit understands and appreciates the work I do on our clothes and cabin, but I wish he would keep some of it to himself. It isn’t like I am some Cinderella. Vit does his part as well. He is amazing at keeping his belongings picked up and neat and organized. He also takes it on himself to keep our shoes polished, though mine aren’t polished so much since they are like boat shoes and he just has to black to uppers. It is one of the reasons why I get irritated when puddles and people get my shoes dirtier than I try and keep them.

Vit came in as I was doing his collar and gave me a kiss and brought me a milkshake.

“I’m going to be as round as a Russian pony,” I said, trying not to sound unappreciative.

“If you do not drink this, I will worry that you will simply get blown overboard.”

“Don’t be sill …”

“I saw that you put in a request for a smaller belt. AND I know that is a new uniform skirt.”

I prevaricated by saying, “The other got caught in a bike chain.”

He looked at me and then handed me the milkshake. “Do not diet Kokhana. You become too thin. What would Derrick say?”

“Derrick can mind his own business,” I answered causing Vit to blink. “I’m tired of being told I am not …”

“Not what?”

“No one ever says what precisely, but I can feel it. Can we change the subject please? I will have a little time tomorrow and want to know if there is anything in particular that you want or need.”

“Er …” Vit was obviously unsure how to take my mood.

“The SOs are always getting stuff for their partners, you rarely if ever ask for anything. You get stuff for me but never ask for anything for yourself.”

He said, “You have no time.”

“Then I’ll make time. You make time for me.” My attitude was starting to show, and I grabbed my temper to keep it under control and hidden as much as possible. I suppose I was still miffed after wanting to spend time alone with Vit but then being forced to listen to the SOs talk about all the time they spend with their spouses. Petty perhaps but again, this is my journal and I can express myself however I see fit.

“You really wish to do this?” Vit asked coming over like he wanted a better look at my face.

“Yes. I know it is stupid to say it isn’t fair. I hate that word. It makes me sound like a petulant child. But all I hear is … oh, just ignore me.” I took a breath and got down from the tree I had started to metaphorically climb. “I really do want a list if you have something you need or want.”

“Hmmm. There … there is a wine, more like a liqueur it is so sweet, that comes in …” He scowled. “It comes in a pink and white bottle. Most shops should carry it. If you have time. Ask for Cartojal.”

I nodded, immediately grabbing my tablet to make note of it. “Anything else?”

“There is a hair pomade … er …”

“Styling gel?”

“Yes, but thicker. It is called El Patron. Baird used to keep it in stock, but I have not had any in a while and …”

“Of course I will look for it.” Getting into the spirit, he listed several other things, and I was happy for the list to have enough items on it that if I didn’t find them all I would still likely come back with several. It was all ordinary things like tooth powder, shaving soap, and the like but it made me feel useful … and wifely which is probably more to the point.

We both slept well and I was up and at ‘em before Vit needed to be up. He grabbed my hand and pulled me down for a kiss like he hadn’t in a while. Is that progress? I hope so. Maybe instead of worrying and praying that God will do something to Vit to change him, I should be doing something about changing myself. I certainly see results faster that way.

As I stated I was with the students today and even managed a quick breakfast with the day’s chaperones who asked reasonable questions about the day’s excursion. We no longer call them field trips, but I do still try and make sure something educational is included so that it can be added to their portfolio and so the parental units if each one don’t start complaining about how useless their children are becoming.

Today’s plan was primarily designed around El Caminito del Rey but first we went to Rio Guadalhorce Nature Reserve. We got on a bus after a short walk from the pier and once we arrived at the Conde de Guadalhorce Dam, the main water reserve in the province of Malaga, our guide explained about the history of the Natural Area of Desfiladero de los Gaitanes. The Gorge Desfiladero de los Gaitanes is a canyon, carved by the River Guadalhorce, in the center of the province. The northern access to it is via Guadalhorce reservoirs and the southern is via El Chorro.

It was very peaceful and a great place for bird watching, a favored past time for some of the students who knew from past discussions that I was not averse to the hobby having both a former student and nephew as “birders.” Unfortunately I had to follow through and send two freshmen students back to the bus. It was not a good start to the day but it did remind them that I would do exactly as I said I would if they didn’t follow the rules. We were supposed to be quiet and they seemed unable to obey. Lucky for me one of the chaperones was more than happy to accompany them. She’d had run ins with them while they were in middle school and was more than content to see them finally get their comeuppance. A little too content but then again, I was getting full up with the little devils myself.

Next was El Caminito del Rey, also known as The King’s Little Pathway because it was first opened by King Alfonso XIII. This path is about 3 kilometers long, and less than one meter wide, and hangs about 328 feet (100 meters) above the Guadalhorce River. It reminds me of a catwalk with metal grates that pass from side to side of the gorge. Even the troublemakers in our group were hesitant to play around, it was that intimidating. One of them jumped up and down – once – but that was all it took and three of our burlier seniors bookended him. There was zero nonsense from that point forward I am thankful to say.

Once we finished the breathtaking Caminito del Rey, our bus took us to Álora, a little village near the El Caminito del Rey. There we received an educational lecture – educational but high-interest – on local culture and products. Must to everyone’s pleasure – we weren’t scheduled for a meal until we were back on the ship – we were given tastings at a local restaurant, of products like almonds, oil, bread, wine and olives. The students had about forty-five minutes of free time and most either spent it in the shops or taking pictures. I did a bit of both since there weren’t any postcards and then, with the blessing of the chaperones and my security counterpart, stepped into a market for the locals and picked up everything Vit has asked for except for the candies which I picked up near the pier in a store called Don Chuche.

I may have overdone the candy. You had to buy it in bulk and … well … I just wanted Vit to have a treat. He wound up laughing after being … uh hem … surprised when he came in from his shift. I bought two bottles of the cartojal while with the students and then … oh bother, I picked up another four before reboarding. He insisted on packing most of it up and taking it down to our storage locker. I felt like a pack mule but the chuckles that Vit was still having was worth it.

He is already asleep because he has an early shift in the morning. It is a sea day, the first in nearly two weeks and I have to work on translations. I’ve been doing several every night, or if I have spare time on the bus, to keep up. I have a feeling things will still be backed up.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 161: June 23 – at Sea

What is going on? I feel like a target that everyone is tossing their irritation at. Some of that may be my imagination. I’ll admit I’m getting sensitive, perhaps needlessly so. But it is a good thing that Poppa and Momma raised me to have manners because there were a few times today I could have really slung some extremely rude words at people.

I spent all day in Baird’s office, only coming out for a bit of dinner since Vit had to work a double. I really wasn’t in a bad mood about it when I first got in since my chores elsewhere were caught up. But first thing in the door I realize that Barney is frosty. I hesitated but she is still my supervisor in that capacity, so I asked her where she wanted the translations.

Snarky, snarky is her come back. “Same as they’ve always been. Have you been gone so much you can’t remember?”

I started to feel a little frosty myself at that point and took pointed enjoyment when I dropped two 8-inch stacks rather loudly on the corner of her desk.

“What the hell is this?” she snapped.

“I told you I would do translations at night in my spare time. These are them. What? Didn’t you take me seriously?”

I wasn’t looking for gratitude, but a little thawing would have been nice. Instead she said, “So I’m supposed to bow and scrape and say thank you?”

“Hardly,” I answered with a snort. “But I keep my word even if you are too cranky to admit it.”

“Me?!”

“Yes you. If there was a problem during the last two weeks you should have picked up the comm and called me. You know you are my boss and can do that. You don’t need to suffer in silence and then hit me between the eyes right off the bat. I can’t help if I’m kept in the dark.”

I decided it would be best to ignore her so I turned to my desk and got down to translating and then wanting to get cranky in my own right. Same old problem. People are too reliant on the translating machines and half the time what the original document meant is not what the machine translates. It is the problem that the machine is very literal and most people use similes and colloquialisms when they speak and write. Gah.

Barney finally started to thaw about midmorning and then at lunch when I told the teakettle that it should be very happy that it was metal she said, “Okay, time for you to get some air. You’re talking to the furniture. You set the kettle down any harder and it is going to crack the countertop.”

“After I finish this next document,” I responded.

Only after the next document came an emergency request and by that time I was back in the zone and too busy metaphorically flogging whoever ran the series of forms with a cat o’ nine tails to be anything close to hungry. Vit stopped in just long enough for us to grab a burger at the XO Lounge before we both returned to work though he did ask me to sign out after I finished the file I was working on. Barney had already vacated the space and he reminded me that I had what was supposed to be a challenging excursion tomorrow. I didn’t disagree and did what I said and now I’m done for the night. I hope I can sleep. Writing this out hasn’t helped like I hoped it would.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 162: Jun 24 – Tangier, Morocco

Change in plans overnight. As I heard it, a group of parents became concerned with the itinerary and then got the majority of the remaining parents on board with their concern and then took it to Admin since apparently they didn’t like Mr. Parnell’s response to their concerns. I don’t disagree with their concern so much as I think it should have been addressed with extra security and the like. Or instead of a group decision, it should have been up to individual family groups as to whether their student joined the day’s activities. Instead, it turned into what Tower is overly fond of calling a fluster cluck.

We are in Morocco and will be tomorrow as well. As a result of the parents insisting on cancelling the day’s planned activity, I was given an unexpected day off and it meshed with Vit’s scheduled day off. Hurray! Except … bah! … we wound up spending it with the XOs and SOs group he normally hangs out with. I’m tired of banging my head against what to me is so obvious – the SOs don’t particularly care for me. Barbara Dutton may be the worst, but she isn’t the only one. Some of it is probably a matter of minor jealousies – as an example, they don’t get to get off the ship very often and certainly don’t get to participate in the activities that I do. Some of it is that my clearance and schedule sets me apart. I am more of an XO than an SO though I try not and come off that way. And if I’m being honest, I just don’t know how to socialize very well outside of my limited sphere. On limited activities such as would be put on at the Foundation when I knew that Derrick would be there to watch over me, but … but … bah, I sound like a whiney child.

I never ran into this on The Sun. Everyone was so kind. Okay, so maybe “never” is an exaggeration and my memories are a bit rose-colored, but most of the people I interacted with were nice and I only ran into the condescending types occasionally. Here it feels the reverse. And why I should care I don’t know, but I do. Maybe I feel that I reflect more on Vit than I did then. Though there were good parts to today.

I was the lead security personnel this time out, so it wasn’t strictly a leisure activity for me. I knew my place as it were, tried not to be obtrusive about it, and I wasn’t constantly trying to figure that part out. I did not want to appear I was lording anything over anyone. It gave me boundaries and support both, and I needed it because the tour we took was a bit of a whirlwind.

We met our guide and driver right at the pier. We started off by driving by the Boulevard Pasteur and then the French Quarter with a quick stop at Mosque Mohamed V. From there we continued to the Spanish Quarter. Each area had a distinct feel to it. We drove through the American Quarter and then passed the Royal Palace of Tangiers. I felt like my head was on a swizzle stick and all I could do was look around while trying to do my job the best of my ability. The crowds made being situationally aware a challenge and the guide was constantly looking at me as if I was going to object to something.

When we made a stop for a panorama of Parc Perdicaris with view on the Mediterranean, I asked him privately if there was a problem. When he said no, that he didn’t want there to be a problem, as politely as I could I told him, “You came very highly recommended. You are good at your job. It would be foolish of me to interfere with your schedule and itinerary. My job is to assist, not interfere.”

Well, that’s basically what I said anyway. Cultural norms and all that meant I had to be careful to avoid hurting his pride and all the other yada yada of male/female interaction, but apparently I handled it correctly because from that point on all I had to do was sit back, take notes, and remain situationally aware. Not quite as simple as I am making it but certainly better than it had been when he seemed to be concerned of stepping on my feet, or me his, or whatever the issue was.

From there we continued to Cap Spartel to visit the lighthouse and finally got out of the vehicle for more than the occasional quickie picture. The lighthouse was built between 1861 and 1864 by an international coalition and marks the entrance of the Strait of Gibraltar. An amazing sight.

And next? Who would have ever thought I’d be riding a camel on an Atlantic beach? After the lighthouse that is exactly what we did. Not anything like riding a horse, that’s for sure. I got a few comments from the family, all of them demanding “pictures, or it didn’t happen.” Is it wrong of me to brag that I was a “natural” at camel riding? It wasn’t the first time for me as I’d done it with the students, but it was nice to finally find something I was more graceful at than the other SOs … even if it was something so silly. Barbara Dutton was nearly spat on by her camel, it was so disgusted with her as a rider. Vit wasn’t the only one that had to hide a grin at her predicament. I have a feeling her husband is going to feel the heat for laughing at her. I certainly got caught in her crosshairs a few times.

After the camel ride we visited the Caves of Hercules. According to the myth our guide told us, Hercules slept in the caves on his way to steal three golden apples from the Garden of the Hesperides. Stealing the apples, which were believed to confer immortality, was the 11th of the “12 Labors of Hercules.” According to the ancient writers, the garden was located in nearby Lixus (the current city of Larache at the Atlantic coast). The interior of the caves really are amazing. The complex has two openings. The one that faces the sea resembles the shape of Africa and is said to have been created by the Phoenicians. The opening that faces land was created by the local Berbers, who cut their stones from the rock.

After the cave we drove, by an alternate route, back to the old medina to start a walking tour. We definitely had a local rather than an outsider as our guide, and our tour reflected this. Instead of only hitting the highlights and dumping us back at the pier, our guide more than earned his tips. First was St. Andrews Church. It has an unusually Moorish design for a Christian Church and was consecrated in 1905. From there we headed to the Straw and Goat Cheese Market.

Between 1923 and 1956, Tangier was a kind of free-for-all ‘International Zone’ ruled jointly by 9 countries, including the United States, France, and Britain and the food in Morocco, and Tangier in particular, reflects this. And our guide seemed determined that we’d see the best of it. He turned down the offering in several shops before winding up in what was literally a hole in the wall to taste some of the best cheese I’ve ever eaten.

Our guide and several shopkeepers explained that although there are new supermarkets on the edge of town, most people still buy their food fresh every day from street-side markets and stalls right where we were walking. There is an amazing variety of vegetables and fruit year-round. Morocco is a prime producer and exporter of citrus, melons of all sorts, and strawberries in season. There were figs and avocados, bananas, dates and herbs, and of course mounds of spices at every corner. The fresh fruit we chose to eat along the way but Vit gave me a wink and purchased a lot of the spices that are becoming impossible to find in the States except at exorbitant prices. Luckily our guide knew of a vendor who would seal and stamp the spices so we could get them back on board … for a price of course. The man was a cousin of some type. It is the way the world works and I did not begrudge him doing his part to look after his family.

As our guide spoke, we walked to the Grand Socco of Tangiers to visit the fish, meat, and vegetable souks … with more tasting … and from there to the Mendoubia Gardens. The Mendoub was the sultan's representative on the governing commission during what is called the international years; roughly 1923 – 1956. The residence of the Mendoub is now a flourishing park. Flanked by a row of French colonial–era buildings, it's popular with young couples and local families on weekends. On a peak of the central hill, surrounded by historic cannons, is an engraved stone monument which displays the speech King Mohammed V gave to the French asking for Moroccan independence in 1947. The area is quite beautiful, but our guide told us confidentially that they occasionally have trouble with radicalized followers of Islam who try and enforce sharia law. But then he shrugged and said, “It has been worse in the past, so there are no worries. For now.”

After the gardens we walked through the Italian Quarter and visited the Kasbah Museum of Antiquities. From there our guide took us to a fabulous Moroccan restaurant. Unlike the stereotypical Moroccan restaurants, this one was bright, light, and airy. We ate family-style and each couple ordered something different so we could all share and taste. The main starch was couscous. As with many other Moroccan dishes, everyone gathers round to eat from one super-sized communal plate. My favorite was couscous tfaya with caramelized onions and raisins. I could have been satisfied with that alone it was so good. Another dish that I had took look up the recipe for to give it a try once we return to Florida is Moroccan chicken bastilla which is Morocco's famous version of a savory pie. Traditionally pigeons were the birds of choice, but these days chicken is cooked with saffron, ginger, pepper, and cinnamon, then layered within crispy warqa pastry with an herb-laden omelet and fried almonds scented with orange flower water. An utterly amazing fusion of flavors and textures. Some of the SOs were giving me funny looks but I just smiled and shrugged. I felt rather than saw Vit trying to hold in his chuckles. My appetite is very eclectic and I’ve rarely met a new food I wasn’t willing to try at least once.

The sky's the limit when it comes to tagine, the famous slow-cooked Moroccan stew that takes its name from the traditional clay or ceramic dish it's traditionally cooked in. There are so many different combinations that can be had there is no way I can record them all here. Usually it is vegetables and a meat but there are also vegetarian versions. Chicken with preserved lemons and olives is a classic and versatile dish which is also one of Morocco's most famous. And no wonder. It's utterly delicious. It was certainly popular with the group I was with.

You’d be amazed the number of ways that prunes are incorporated into dishes. I ate a bit of the Lamb with Prunes but a few of the group ate a rather large helping and from what I hear, paid the price after returning to the ship. The other dish some of the group ate a rather lot of is kefta. Moroccans like to strongly season their ground beef or lamb (kefta) with cumin, paprika, and herbs. In its simplest form, the spiced kefta is shaped and then grilled or pan-fried, but you'll also find kefta used extensively in other dishes, such as the popular meatball tagine with poached eggs that we had. Despite the ample tomato sauce, no pasta is required, but we needed Moroccan bread to use in lieu of the forks we didn’t have.

Harira is a tomato-based soup laden with lentils and chickpeas. Rice or fine broken noodles (chaariya) are often added as well, while the stock is usually made with beef or lamb. This is served in a lot of Moroccan homes and I can understand why. It is filling and very flavorful and economical. Another such dish is sardines. The waters along Morocco's extensive coastline provide an abundant supply of sardines, making this tasty, very healthy fish an affordable indulgence. You can keep things ultra-simple and simply bake or grill whole sardines, but one of the most popular ways to prepare them is to stuff sardine fillets with a zesty marinade called chermoula and then fry them. On the street you can get a sandwich made of these stuffed sardines. Vit does like his sardines so I may be learning to make the stuffed sardine sandwiches if I can figure out a way how to use the small, canned things I have access to in the States.

The most extravagant dish that was ordered was Moroccan roasted lamb, referred to as mechoui. Our guide and driver, both of whom we invited to eat with us, said that it is perhaps best sampled in Marrakesh, where whole lamb is roasted in deep pits with smoldering araar wood but what I tasted was divine even though I will admit that lamb isn’t my favorite meat.

For dessert we had pastries. The best Moroccan pastries are mssemen, batbout, harcha and baghrir, among others. You won’t be able to get these anywhere else in the world, or at least none nearly as good as the ones made by Moroccan women. They are definitely a must-try and they go perfectly with a glass of fresh mint tea!

We were all but rolling when we left the restaurant … leaving behind a healthy tip as well which made the owners and staff very happy … so it is a good thing we continued our walking tour. Everyone was in a good mood so when we visited a local textile cooperative, the wallets opened a little easier and wider than perhaps they would have otherwise. I suspect that was the plan but who am I to quibble over such techniques. It was the reason for the good food at the Foundation auctions. Vit purchased two rugs and I know that several others did the same.

From there we walked past the Petit Socco, then the American Legation, and finally alongside the city ramparts to the port area where our tour ended. The SOs were really talking about crashing and burning once they got back to their cabins but I wasn’t quite ready to end the day. Oh well, security was backed up as so many had spread economic cheer in the city.

Some of the other “economic cheer” our group spread during the day included leather items. For my part I bought a pair of leather slippers that are so pretty I will probably keep them for dressing up rather than casual wear. I also got some authentic argan oil and purchased a bottle for Polina to give to Yegor. It is great on hair, but it also works on acne and other skin problems. Yegor always seems to be as interested in local medicines as he is local communication services. Vit thought Yegor would have preferred something a little stronger but I knew Polina was trying to get him to stop drinking so much. Both of our husband’s share stomach problems in that respect. Vit purchased a gorgeous Moroccan lamp for us to take home. It is quite heavy – the aluminum ones bend and dent too easily – and I’m going to have to pack it carefully to keep the glass mosaic bowls from breaking.

Vit and I already have our preferred teacups, but we did stock up on Moroccan Mint Tea like we had with lunch. Others bought Moroccan tea sets as well as similar ceramics. Textiles were another big purchase and by the look of what I was seeing going through the xray machines not just for our group. A djellaba, a Moroccan dress for both men and women, was on the want to buy list for many. For women, they usually come in a variety of colors, material and patterns. You can buy some ready-made but locals buy their own piece of cloth and take it to a tailor to get their djellabas custom made. Men, however, have a more limited choice, usually neutral colors like black, olive, or grey. Vit didn’t want to have anything to do with them but a couple of the other XOs did after their partners encouraged them.

Back on the ship I heard some of our group was making plans for dinner when I received a note that Polina wanted to see me. That’s when I started wondering if something untoward had been captured by the security camera I was wearing. Oh if it was only that. I’ve been informed that I will be accompanying another off-ship detour starting the 26th.

Vit is … hmmm, what’s a good word for it. Disgruntled. I nearly asked him why since it is not like he takes advantage of when there is the opportunity for us to be alone. I know that is a horrible thing to say but he really was upset and said some cutting things. It didn’t help that he said one or two of them in front of Barbara Dutton and some of the other SOs who then took their turn at cattiness. At least when they started up, he knew he’d handled it badly and didn’t say boo when I made my excuses and left right before their pre-dinner drinks.

He wasn’t as snarky when he came in but couched it in terms that he was concerned. I have tried to let it go but it hasn’t been easy. As soon as Vit gets out of the shower I am getting in and then I am going to bed. Not only do I have an excursion to lead tomorrow but I must prep and pack for the blasted “detour.”

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 163: Jun 25 – Casablanca, Morocco

Vit was in a mood this morning. It was like he was moving slow on purpose and I had to hurry and get to the disembark. All he did was barely growl, then snapped, “Keep your phone on this time.”

“I always keep my phone on so you can track where I am at,” I responded, slightly hurt that he’d feel the need to say it again and in that way.

Vit paused then asked reluctantly, “Always?”

“Of course. I’ve said this many times. I promised I would. Whether I am onshore or here on the ship all you have to do is open the app on your phone and you’ll know where I am. I … I would never …”

He just looked at me in all his Cossack stoicism and I realized I can no longer read him. That hurt more than his words did. I turned and left the cabin quickly, not even waiting for him to say anything else. I could have been excited for the day but there’s been a cloud I haven’t been able to escape.

We are in Casablanca. I led a group of adults and thank goodness they seemed to be seasoned travelers compared to some that I’ve led in the past. Momma would have loved it. Humphrey Bogart was one of her favorite old movie stars and Casablanca one of her favorite old movies. I nearly mentioned it to Vit but I suppose it does sound rather pathetic to say I miss my Momma as often as I sometimes do.

The first excursion of the day was a four-and-a-half-hour family-friendly version of a Casablanca day tour. Family friendly meant the stories the guide told weren’t quite as gruesome as some I heard during the latter part of the day. Some of the religious sites and historical figures of the area have stories attached to them that can be gruesome. Then there are the WW2 stories and the International Period that can be risqué and bohemian. I won’t repeat what I heard but I will say that what was alluded to in Casablanca the movie was much darker in real life.

I was very busy playing translator and security, so my description of the day won’t be as good as other days have been. Casablanca is primarily a modern and crowded city, but we kept mostly to the old medina (old city). First came the grand Hassan II mosque which is the largest one in both Morocco and Africa, and the highest worldwide.

Next was the "La corniche" along the coastline where we saw elegant buildings of the Anfa and Maarif neighborhood, grand avenues, and architecture that blends modern and Moorish styles. While in the old medina we stopped at the Jewish museum which was surprisingly well attended and taken care of given the muslim influence in the area. The Hobous quarter came next. Habbous square near the Royal Palace of Casablanca, is a district in the old quarter of the city, most of which was built during the French colonial period.

Mohammed V square or pigeons square was another major attraction in the heart of the city and famous for the many pigeons all around. From there it was the Central market where the members of my group spent a great deal of money.

Our last stop was at the famous Rick's Café. Known locally as "Rex Café," the place became legendary thanks to the silver screen. The two icons - Ingrid Bergmann and Humphrey Bogart – play a prominent role in its current decor. Very touristy. As “authentic” as it may seem – there is a 1930s Pleyel piano and As Time Goes By is a common request to the in-house pianist – the landmark only opened in 2004.

The conclusion of one tour brought me to the 2nd excursion which was a four-hour foodie tour. Several of the first group returned to the ship but those remaining were eager to continue on after we had picked up a couple of new group members, and switched media specialists (the ship-version of a paparazzi).

Street food in Casablanca is enriched by the diversity of the locals who came from all over, bringing their local culinary heritage with them. A mixture of flavors reflected in the varied unique dishes that street suburbs vendors are offering. Tagines, different grilled meat, steamed beef heads, and many other interesting dishes will certainly awaken your curiosity.

Some of the food we enjoyed were fresh smoothies and cakes in some traditional smoothies shops the same way locals do. We bargained for some fish at the central market and tasting oysters and sea urchins at one of the oldest seafood shop withing the market. We attended the preparation of the fish at one of the restaurants nearby, grilled or a la plancha flavors are unique. We finished the tour with Moroccan orange flower water and almond pastries along with a reviving hot mint tea in the Saqala restaurant with is built on a 1745 Portuguese fortress.

Some of the people on this excursion knew of me though I didn’t really “know” them as they were primarily from the Admin offices. They knew enough to use me to help them haggle and bargain. Strangely the shopkeepers were forever surprised to find out that I refused to bargain unless the person from our group was serious about purchasing an item for a fair price. Word must have gone out because we were watched several times. And when I asked questions to try and help both parties come to a fair price agreement, I was looked at like I was some exotic bug.

I didn’t really buy anything myself. I took some pictures but that’s about it. I just didn’t have any heart for it and I wasn’t there for that anyway. Back on the ship Vit is already on shift. I’m packed and … I don’t know what I am. Disappointed that after we seemed to be making progress we went right back to whatever this misunderstanding is between us? Doesn’t say much for either one of us does it.

I’ve taken the time to catch up with my correspondence but again, I can’t really say anything about the “detour” so I try and keep what I write on the family. At the same time it appears that the family is keeping something from me. I checked on Charlie and he seemed to be holding it together but even he made it seem like something was going on in the background. I checked with Derrick and he is okay but was also a little elusive about how things are going. I reached Barbie who told me to stop overreacting. Yes, things suck but no worse than they have been.

Perhaps Barbie is correct and I am overreacting. Maybe I am winding myself up over nothing. My day starts early tomorrow so I better put this tablet on the charger and get to bed. I just hope I can sleep.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 164: Jun 26 – Madrid, Spain (Part 1)

I was very unsure this morning. I mean I knew what my job was supposed to be, but the whole “Vit thing” is worse than when we first met. I don’t know if we are reacting to each other or the stress we are both under, or if there is something else going on. Whatever it is didn’t make for a nice good bye considering we are going to be apart for over a week.

“I had planned for us to spend some time alone on Sunday,” Vit told me after sighing at me picking up my piece of luggage. “Now you will not be here.”

I thought I was being understanding when I said, “You’ll be able to spend the time with the XOs.”

Instead Vit snapped, “What is that supposed to mean?”

It startled me to hear the anger in his voice but there was no time to deal with it because the detour group was being hailed to move towards the gangplank and two, we were in public making his tone more than a little embarrassing for me as a few people had turned and stared. There wasn’t even any privacy to say goodbye. Add to that the diplomatic attaché in charge was demanding I hurry despite the fact he was the one that caused everyone to be late to begin with.

The B docked in Madrid and when I reached the bus the detour group was to take, I found I would be in a separate van with the luggage. Ugh. Talk about being put in my place. I even received a call from Polina asking what was going on because she’d seen that the other security personnel were on the bus and from my security cam I was surrounded by boxes and luggage with barely a spot with a seat belt. I wasn’t to find out until later that she rang a bit of a peel over the heads of the other security personnel for sitting back and allowing things to happen as they did.

I’m not working lead this time so I had no standing to demand anything. I might have asked what was going on but I was surprised and getting the distinct impression that asking would have created more problems for me and for my teammates. Still, Polina said I should have objected. I’m a Chief whether I am lead or not. Junior diplomatic staff should have been relegated to the luggage van before me. Also, it created a security issue. What if the van had been waylaid or if I was intentionally being targeted for abduction? I never even considered that angle. Some security person I am. The line that Polina was given was that there was a miscommunication. I was to be security for the other van. Yeah. Right. I don’t know the reason for it, but it is what it is and I will deal with it the same as I have other times.

I certainly had better luck at the hotel we were transferred to as I could understand and speak the Castilian much better than several of the support staff. I didn’t get to get a good look at the hotel until later. I barely had time to secure my luggage in storage before I was expected to keep track of everyone on a walking tour of Madrid while the other security team members stayed with the diplomats who were already preparing for meetings. At least I did have time to text Vit to let him know we had arrived. He vid called me back, seemingly trying to end things better than they were earlier and he even asked that I be careful and when possible to “please Kokhana, leave your phone on so that I can … er …”

“Of course. I promised I would.”

“Yes. You did. And I did not say thank you.”

Someone started yelling my name and I winced. He heard it and said, “They call.”

“Loudly,” I admitted. “Be careful yourself.”

We both ended the call when I gave him an air kiss. I feel some better but something is still off. This morning should not have happened between us. I wish I knew what my part is in all of this. But there is nothing I can do for the moment so I will get back to recording my day.

We started started the walking tour at the Parque del Buen Retiro, considered a must see by most people. If you would like to mix history with outdoor greenery and entertainment, you should really take a picnic lunch and spend the day in Buen Retiro Park. The park's main attraction are the gardens, including the Rosaleda Rose Garden. I wish some of my sisters could have been there with me. Several of them really love roses. The Fountain of the Fallen Angel, the only statue in Madrid depicting Satan, is in the garden as well and is quite the attraction. The gardens were once part of the Buen Retiro Palace and were opened to the public in the 19th century. In the northern part of the park, in front of an equestrian monument to King Alfonso XII, is a huge artificial pond called Estanque del Retiro. Also withing the park is a special place dedicated to the Bosque del Recuerdo, a memorial garden commemorating the 191 civilian victims and one special force agent who died in the terrorist attack of 11 March 2004. This Forest of Remembrance, formerly known as the Forest of the Departed, was inaugurated by King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia in March 2005.

Among its other interesting features, the park has buildings for temporary exhibitions, such as the Velazquez Palace, the Crystal Palace, and the Cason del Buen Retiro which is the Study Centre of the Museo del Prado and has a wonderful 17th-century ceiling fresco depicting the Apotheosis of the Spanish Monarchy by Luca Giordano. Aside from that, the Retiro park is a favorite haunt of street musicians, fortune tellers, and puppet shows all open to the public. Those so inclined may also, depending on the weather, hire a rowboat or go for a ride in a horse-drawn carriage. The group I was in did neither as it was food on their mind.

I’m glad I have made a habit of packing snacks for myself while on our excursions because the food stands within the park were pricey. People still paid it just like they do at theme parks in the States, but I admit to being scandalized at how readily some of our group would plunk down their debit cards for what was available. And the bathrooms, most definitely not up to the standards I consider normal. Which leads me to be thankful that I also always bring my own toilet paper and hygiene wetnaps when on excursion.

From there we went to Puerta de Alcala (The Alcala Gate) which is a Neo-classical monument in Plaza de la Independencia. It stands just several meters away from the main entrance to Parque del Buen Retiro making it a convenient landmark to follow. The square is bisected by Alcala street, although the street itself doesn't cross through the monument which gives start to the streets of Alfonso XII, Serrano and Olozaga. The name “Alcala” originates from the old path that once existed from Madrid to the nearby town of Alcala de Henares. Back in the late 19th century, Madrid was still somewhat small town, though surrounded by medieval walls. Around the year 1774, King Charles III commissioned Francesco Sabatini to construct a monumental gate in the city wall, through which an expanded road to the city of Alcala was to pass, replacing an older, smaller gate which stood nearby. The new gate was inaugurated in 1778. It is considered to be the first modern post-Roman triumphal arch built in Europe – even older than the Arc de Triomphe in Paris and the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin.

Next we visited what is considered the center of Madrid, an extremely busy intersection and not pedestrian friendly; nevertheless our guide managed to stop traffic for us. Of course he had the help of local paparazzi. Not my fave, but this time they proved helpful and I’ll give them points for being polite. I surmised as we walked along that they were after “points” for Madrid by taking photos of Peace Mission personnel at recognizable landmarks around the city.

The Plaza de Cibeles is a square with a neo-classical complex of marble sculptures and fountains that has become an iconic symbol of Madrid. The fountain of Cibeles found in Paseo de Recoletos, a wide boulevard leading from Plaza de Cibeles to Plaza de Colón, depicts Cibeles (Cybele), the Phrygian goddess of fertility, sitting in a chariot pulled by two lions. Yes, it is just as gawdy as it sounds. The fountain was built during the reign of Charles III, and designed by Ventura Rodríguez between 1777 and 1782. Up until the 19th century, both the fountain of Neptune and Cibeles looked directly at each other. Then the city council decided to turn them around to face towards the city center. The fountain of Cibeles has been adopted by the football club Real Madrid as the place for celebrating their triumphs in major tournaments, such as the Champions League, La Liga or Spanish Copa del Rey.

On the corner of Calle de Alcala and Gran Via sits another of Madrid’s famous landmarks, the Metropolis. One of the most photographed in the city, the edifice was erected in 1911 by the French architects, Jules and Raymond Fevrier, who won the contract via competition launched by the Union y el Fenix insurance company, owner of the land the building stands on. The brothers created the facade in a lovely Beaux Arts style, featuring the first-floor balconies separated by four pairs of Corinthian colonnades, with the statues of Mining, Industry, Agriculture and Commerce, sculpted by St Marceaux and Lambert, set above them. The central dome is black with elaborate decorations in 24-carat gold-leaf. At the foot of the dome there is a statue by Benlliure. The entire structure is extremely eye-catching.

At one time the building dome was topped by a statue of Phoenix with Ganymede on one of its wings. It was removed in 1972 when Metropolis Seguros bought the building. Today, another winged statue – goddess Victoria – sits the top of the dome. The extensive damage caused to the building, and particularly its statues, over the years, by pollution and … er … pigeon poop, required extensive restoration. The work started in 1988 and gave the building a new roof; the facade was thoroughly cleaned up. The project took over seven years and, since then, the cleaning has been done annually. The photogs were lucky that this year’s cleaning had just completed and the place looked pristine.

According to our guide, and seconded by some of the excursion attendees, few things in life can beat afternoon shopping. And apparently, when it comes to shopping, there is no place quite like Gran Via, the most popular and up-market thoroughfare in Madrid. Running from Calle de Alcala to Plaza de Espana, the Via is lined with an array of interesting buildings including theaters, hotels, and a plethora of shops selling a wide range of goods with prices to match. On its way, Gran Via crosses several squares, including Plaza Callao, home to several cinemas, ending in Plaza de Espana which is presided over by two of Madrid’s most famous skyscrapers, Edificio Espana (Spain Building) and Torre de Madrid (Madrid Tower).

There are several other equally splendid high-risers to be found immediately on Gran Via either, including Edificio Metropolis, Edificio Telefonica, a 90-meter high, American-style skyscraper, and Edificio Grassy, built in 1917. The latter, located just off Calle Alcala at the outset of Gran Via, boasts a grand facade decoration featuring a remarkable mix of Medieval, Spanish Renaissance, Spanish Modernism and Classical French styles. At the top of the building you can see a rotunda of two superimposed belvederes. On the ground floor, the building houses the famous Grassy watch shop, and in the basement – the marvelous Museum of Antique Clocks.

Puerta del Sol ("The Gate of the Sun"), our next stop, is a bustling plaza and is one of the best known and busiest places in the capital. This square marks the center of the radial network of Spanish roads, and is located in the very heart of the city, not far from Plaza Mayor. The square is dominated by the monument to King Carlos III and the famous bronze sculpture of "the bear and the strawberry tree". Another key attraction here is the clock whose bells chime the start of the traditional Twelve Grapes eating at a New Year celebration which is broadcast live on the Spanish TV since 1962. I suppose that is a bit like the traditional Time Square party we have in the States.

Our guide mentioned that many local restaurants serve food till well after midnight, and the pubs stay open till 3am on weeknights and 4am on weekends. And, unlike other areas in Madrid, most retailers don't close for the afternoon siesta. Pickpockets are a problem but no worse than other areas of Europe and our crew and personnel are now seasoned enough that they are careful and reports of having things stolen rare.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 164 - Part 2

Our next steps led us to Calle Mayor, the main street of Madrid since the Middle Ages, housing shops of silversmiths, coopers and fletchers who used to sell their wares to the rich merchants heading downtown. Today, Calle Mayor is as much popular for its boutiques, cafes and restaurants as it is for the festive atmosphere created by excellent street musicians playing here regularly, and for the numerous peculiar buildings associated with historic personalities and events. At Number 48 you will find the Cervantes House Museum where Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra was born; Spain's #1 writer. Number 61 is the narrowest house in Madrid, measuring only 5 meters across. Number 88 made history in 1906 when anarchist Mateo Moral attempted to kill King Alfonso XIII and his bride on their wedding day by throwing a bomb from the top balcony of this house; the royals were unhurt, unlike the many innocent victims in memory of whom now there is a monument opposite the house.

Plaza Mayor, known originally as Plaza del Arrabal, was built during the Habsburg rule is located just a few blocks away from Puerta del Sol. Rectangular in shape, there are in total 237 balconies facing the Plaza, nine entryways and a ring of old and traditional shops and cafes under their porticoes. Dominating Plaza Mayor is Casa de la Panaderia, a municipal building. In the course of history, the square has been the site of many things including markets, bullfights, soccer games, and even public executions of condemned heretics during the Spanish Inquisition.

No visit to Madrid, or so declared our guide, is complete without a visit to the Mercado de San Miguel in the heart of the Old Town. It is a must for gourmets and gourmands alike. The market is housed in a glass-fronted 20th-century Beaux-Arts building. There are over 50 individual stalls, each run by a specialist in their chosen field, e.g. fresh fruit, vegetables, fish or meat. You can browse through the stands of locally grown fruit and vegetables where the odor of herbs and spices fill the air; nothing here has seen the inside of a freezer, none of the produce is packed in plastic and the layout of the goods is an art in itself. The fish stalls display a vast range of seafood, fresh from the Atlantic and the Mediterranean Sea. Most of the produce on sale is of Spanish origin, but I also saw charcuterie from France, Viennese Patisseries and a selection of fine European cheeses, among other things. The market also contains several cafes, restaurants and shops selling books on Spanish cuisine and kitchen utensils. I was tempted to purchase one for myself but I’m not here for personal pleasures and Vit and I did not talk about a budget for purchases. I have a little bit on my personal debit card for postcards but that’s it and I am not bringing the subject up with Vit. One, the personal call thing is supposed to be a no-no. Two, see point one.

The only thing people seemed to find a bit off-putting about the market was the number of signs forbidding potential customers from touching the produce, so you can’t pick and choose your purchases. Some people asked it if was a leftover from the years of covid pandemic restrictions. Our guide shrugged nonchalantly and said no, that it has always been that way.

After all the noise of the market, it was pleasant to head for a bit of quiet, Plaza de la Villa. This small, medieval square is surrounded by lovely buildings, each with its own story. Among them is Casa Villa (Madrid’s old Town Hall), built in 1696 and renowned for its stained-glass windows and frescoes by Antonio Palomino. Remarkably, at some point, this building was used as a prison. Adjoining the town hall by an archway is Casa de Cisneros, an early Spanish Renaissance castle built in 1537. It boasts an outstanding collection of fine tapestries. The nearby Casa and Torre de Los Lujanes are supposedly the oldest buildings in the city; the tower dates back as far as the early 15th century. According to a legend, King Charles I imprisoned here King Francis I of France after the battle of Pavia in 1525. The reason for that was the French king's refusal to show respect and bow his head to his captor. Therefore, King Charles ordered that the tower door be lowered, in this way forcing Francis to bow his head each time he entered and exited the building. True or not, it is an interesting story.

In the center of the square stands a statue of Alvaro de Bazen, the Spanish admiral who planned the Armada and, remarkably, never lost a battle in his entire 50-year-long career. The statue was sculpted in 1888 by Benlliure and was set in the plaza in 1980. It isn’t a big plaza, wasn’t very touristy, but felt like we were stepping back in time. The buildings are quaint and well maintained; the garden in the center is nice and well kept.

Opposite the Royal Palace, is the Catedral de la Almudena, a Baroque-style cathedral which was completed only in 1993 despite construction beginning 1879 on the site of a medieval mosque. The original plans gave the church a Gothic Revival style with a Neo-Classical cupola. An unusual thing about this building architecturally is that it is oriented North-South instead of the traditional East-West. The construction limped along for over 50 years and was abandoned entirely during the Spanish Civil War of 1936-1939. Construction resumed in 1950 under the direction of Fernando Chueca Goitia who adapted the original plans and gave the church its present Baroque look. The interior of the cathedral is modern Neo-Gothic, with many small chapels and statues of contemporary artists in diverse styles. It was a little jarring for traditionalists but is part of the whole movement to “modernize” the Catholic Church structures without completely remodeling them. The crypt is Neo-Romanesque with a 16th-century image of the Virgin de la Almudena. In 2004, new paintings by Kiko Arguello were hung in the apse. Upon completion, the cathedral was consecrated by Pope Jean Paul II, a statue of whom is placed in front of the building.

A special treat was gifted to our group. A docent arranged for us to get an up-close view of the bronze doors which bear the legend of the discovery of the image of the Virgin in the 15th century. Afterwards we were given a tour of the beautiful altarpieces and magnificent vestments, plus manuscripts of the clergy in the museum. The final treat was to ascend the currently-closed-to-the-public dome for a 360º view of the city which gave us, seen at close proximity, a view of the oversized statues of saints perched on top.

Palacio Real de Madrid (The Royal Palace of Madrid), also known as Palacio de Oriente (The East Palace), is the official residence of the King of Spain in the city of Madrid, used solely for state ceremonies. King Juan Carlos and the Royal Family never resided here, living instead in the more modest Palacio de la Zarzuela on the outskirts of the capital. The palace is owned by the Spanish State and administered by the Patrimonio Nacional, a public agency of the Ministry of the Presidency. The Royal Palace of Madrid is the largest palatial building in Western Europe. The palace is partially open to the public, except when it is used for official business, which gave us the opportunity to see twenty-five rooms, all of which featured original silk wallpaper, decorations, furniture, clocks, and other interesting items. The gardens and the views out the back were also very impressive. At night, the palace is lit up with 1,000 lumen spotlights, making it the brightest building in the world.

On the eastern side of the palace is the Plaza de Oriente. This plaza, featuring a rectangle shape with one of its long sides curved outwards, was in 1844. Within the plaza there are a series of small, beautifully tended gardens separated by gravel walkways leading to a central stone basin fountain with an equestrian statue of Philip IV as its centerpiece. The statue was cast in bronze in 1843 by Pietro Tacca, who had an idea to make the back end of the horse very heavy and the front part very light, so that the horse would balance on its hind legs without toppling over before it was fixed to its stone base. Surrounding the plaza are limestone statues of Spanish monarchs – 5 Visigoth and 15 Christian kings. The statues were originally intended to stand on the palace roof and were sculpted to appear tall if looked at from the ground. However, when finished, they proved to be too heavy for the roof, so they decided to place them around the plaza.

Our last stop on the walking tour was Templo de Debod, an Egyptian temple. No, I did not drink too much sangria. The Temple of Debod really does exist. It was constructed during the 2nd century BC in ancient Egypt as a small single chapel dedicated to the god Amun. Later, the temple was enlarged by the pharaohs of the Ptolemaic Dynasty and dedicated to Isis. In 1960, during the construction of the Great Dam of Aswan in Egypt, several ancient buildings were going to be covered by the resulting flood waters. Spain helped with the relocation of the twin temples of Abu Simbel, and in gratitude, the Egyptian government donated the Temple of Debod to Spain.

The ancient temple was carefully dismantled and shipped, first by sea and then by railway, to Madrid where it was reconstructed near a small lake in the park. The temple has two narrow gateways leading to the central porch with four colonnades. Inside, the West Hall is richly decorated with hieroglyphics. In the room, which is the original chapel, is a photographic documentary of the temple’s history and its journey from Egypt to Spain. This is the only edifice of its kind in Spain and one of the rare pieces of Egyptian architecture outside Egypt.

Our hotel was only a 9-minute walk from Royal Palace; the Hotel Riu Plaza España. Everyone was very ready to freshen up, myself included. I was all prepared to be smooshed in with equipment in a storage room with a cot, and I wasn’t disappointed. However, as embarrassed recompense by the hotel concierge, I was awarded vouchers for the on-site restaurant and wifi service, and there was an ensuite bathroom of a sort, though more janitorial than what I’m sure other people were using.

After washing up I called the security crew leader only to find out that I’ve been assigned a job very similar to what I have on the ship. I will be in charge of any tours. I was given to understand by Polina that activity was supposed to be minimized this time around. If Polina is unaware of the changes this is not a good thing. I am waiting on the clearance to get a look at a detailed itinerary to see what I need to prepare for. Chief Clarkson was embarrassingly apologetic after he found out where I was sleeping.

“Don’t worry about it. It isn’t the first time.”

“So. The stories are true.”

“What stories?” I asked, almost afraid to hear his answer.

“Someone has it out for you.”

“Circumstantial evidence but I would watch out if I were you. The diplomatic staff can be … er …”

“They sure can be,” Clarkson answered, leaning more towards camaraderie than adversary now that he’d got my measure. Or thought he had. I haven’t had much interaction with the man as he normally works in Admin. It will be interesting to see how we work together. I think they wonder that if it could happen to me, how easily might it happen to them. Not a bad thing to wonder about given the circumstances.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 165: Jun 27 – Madrid, Spain (Part 1)

I begin to see why I was chosen for this detour, or suspect I do. One of the diplomats has college-aged daughters, and I am going to primarily be their escort. There are three of them; a his, hers, and theirs family. They are rather self-involved but don’t behave terribly. They do relish being out from under their overbearing parents, revealing how overprotected they are and a type of innocence they are unaware they still have. Perhaps naïve is the better word, I’m stilling taking their measure though they seem more than happy with me as an escort. Apparently they were they were expecting a rather old and grouchy Senora or nursemaid type individual. Meh. If I am honest I am not too far off from their age and I do understand their feelings. And overbearing may be a mild descriptor if what I have seen thus far is their parents’ normal behavior. The girls had only come on the trip thinking it would be a grand adventure that would look good on their curriculum vitae. Well, their parents agree … sort of. Adventures are to happen … in a very controlled environment. And there is to be an emphasis on education; no simple holiday for these young ladies.

Their mother, the diplomat, wanted them out from underfoot – there are several young and good-looking staff members floating around apparently – but she also wants them “guided” and “steered” into constructive activities. To that end a Hemingway walking tour was arranged. I spent a few hours last night prepping and it was a good thing that I did. Our guide did not show up and the alternative activity – some type of lecture – horrified the sisters. So with map in hand, away we went. Their father, a rather milksoppish man or so he seems on initial acquaintance, wrung his hands with worry until Clarkson stepped in and assured him that I was more than capable. Ugh. It was embarrassing. I cannot ever imagine Poppa, Derrick, or any of the brats ever acting in that way.

Madrid is a place where people eat late and stay up even later. My understanding is that their group stayed up late socializing at a flamenco show. It made for a slow start to the day, a contrast to what my own normal is. I’ve never been one to sleep the day away so I could stay up all night, not even in my own college days. Luckily my three charges revived after some of the local, strong coffee.

First was the Edificio Telefonica (Telefonica Building). This 90-meter high, 14-story American-style skyscraper has a Spanish Baroque facade of elaborately sculptured ornaments. Europe's tallest structure at the time of its inauguration in 1929, it is a famous landmark and is colloquially termed the "Madrilenian Broadway". An interesting aspect of the building's history is that it housed the offices of the foreign press during the Civil War. Ernest Hemingway was one of the foreign journalists at the time (late 1930s) and got the inspiration of his famous book "For Whom the Bell Tolls" here, while watching the Nationalists fight the Republicans. As it happens, the building's height made it an ideal target for bombing raids by Franco's troops, but this, fortunately, turned out to be an unfounded fear. Today the Telefónica plays a more peaceful role in Spanish life. The 1st floor has a quiet little café and a shop where you can buy any and every kind of communication equipment. Other floors house the Museum of Telecommunication, the Technology Museum, as well as temporary art exhibits.

I was warned by several online blogs that when looking at a list of places to visit in Madrid, not to be misled by Museo Chicote on Gran Vía – it's not a museum, but rather Madrid's classic cocktail bar. During the Spanish Civil War, Chicote was a favorite meeting place for the foreign press, with Hemingway as one of its most regular patrons. The bar has kept its authentic 1930s style but has added modern lighting, modern acoustics, a dance floor, and some of the top Spanish DJs to entertain you into the small hours. The walls are festooned with the great and famous who have (perhaps) sipped refreshing cocktails in the heat of the Spanish summer nights. Here you can see – apart from the famous Ernest – photos of Dalí, Sophia Loren, Frank Sinatra, and Orson Welles, among others. If Ava Gardener ever frequented the place, you would have a hard time proving she didn't – a well-positioned photo suggests that she did; but in these days of airbrushing software, who really knows? There's no doubt the bar is aimed at tourists, but even so, it's a civilized and calm place to stop in for a preprandial cocktail. You won't find a lot of hipster-inspired drinks, but you also won't find any artificial juices, mixers, extracts, or additives. Each classic cocktail is crafted by hand with extreme care, and served just at the right temperature. And no, I do not know this from experience but from a rather interesting older gentlemen who seemed pleased to preen and show off his knowledge to four young women.

Not far from the Plaza de las Cibeles is the Círculo de Bellas Artes, a private institution that first opened its doors in 1881. It was declared a Center for the Protection of Fine Arts in 1921, and was listed as a National Historic Building in 1981. The institute offers one of the most active cultural programs in Madrid. There is something for everyone's taste in the arts; in the exhibition rooms, you can enjoy rotating themed exhibits; for film lovers, there is a cinema, or if you'd prefer to see a play, there is also a theater. There are concert and lecture halls and during the Madrid Carnival, the famous Masked Ball is held there. There's also a bookstore/souvenir-shop and a café/restaurant to enjoy a good meal or some tapas. We were able to visit the roof terrace to view the statue of Minerva and a wonderful panorama of Madrid. Hemingway was a frequent guest at the Hotel Suecia, which was just around the corner, and often visited the Circulo de Bellas Artes.

Just down the street was the Westin Palace Hotel. This former palace of the Duque de Lerma - the King's 'valido' or favorite - opened as a hotel in 1911 and was Spain's second luxury hotel. It may not have the world-famous cachet of the Ritz, just across the plaza, but it's not called the Palace for nothing. After the Ritz banned actors and other public performers in the early 20th century, the Palace became the hotel of choice for celebrities. Mata Hari, the exotic princess from the East, lived here during WWI and her ghost reportedly occupies the corridors, while Hemingway, Dalí and Lorca were all regulars in the cocktail bar. For lunch or dinner, you can visit the first-floor restaurant with excellent service and delicious food though prepare for wallet shock, assuming you can book a table. We did check out the art on the ceiling of the rotunda; in particular, the imagery of a gondola that the dreamier sister said conjures the feeling of dreaming in the sky.

The next stop on the tour was a little iffy without a male companion to keep the gigolos from checking us out. I made it short but it was still interesting. Clad in vintage posters with the interior yellowed in cigarette stains, La Venencia sherry bar in central Madrid gained fame in the 1930s, during the Spanish Civil War, as a popular hangout of Republican soldiers and their supporters, among whom was Ernest Hemingway, who frequented the place seeking news from the front. Nowadays, the sherry & tapas joint has retained much of its character. To the grumble of many Europeans, smoking has been banned, but the old wooden barrels and the sawdust floor of Hemingway’s era is still in place. It adds to the place's so-called appeal. Regularly crowded by locals, the bar still carries a sign from the Civil War era, saying "Don't spit on the floor". Moreover, in keeping with its republican tradition, La Venencia still observes the strict rule, as was in Hemingway's time – no photographs, as a safety measure against possible Fascist spies, as well as no tipping. I’d read ahead of time how to get along and after politely asking in advance if we may come in and look around for the purposes of history – and saying I would buy a bottle of sherry “to go” to show my gratitude – the staff were friendly but not effusive. We stayed out of the way, bought the available postcards, and then left with the bottle.

“Might I make a suggestion?” I asked them. At the eldest’s friendly nod I said, “Present this to your parents as a bit of gratitude for giving you this opportunity.”

The youngest is barely eighteen and showed it by looking at me strangely and asking bluntly, “Why?” before thinking it through herself. The other two however were already smiling.

I explained, “Because it will let them know that you were thinking of them and not just … hmmm …”

The eldest, called Jules, told her sister, “Mother will know that we were thinking of her. As in thinking of her and not just trying to get away with stuff. C’mon Dolly, you know how she is.”

It took a moment but a lightbulb finally went on. “Oh. I get it. She’ll think we are watching our p’s and q’s and trying to make a good impression.”

They all three smiled conspiratorially and I almost winced. I hadn’t meant to take it that far but the older two seemed to get what I’d been trying to say and they appear to take turns keeping each other out of hot water with their parents. Or at least their mother. I was given to understand that their father was “sweet” but he enforced whatever edict their mother made regardless of what he himself might think.

To distract them from sharing too much TMI we headed on to Cerveceria Alemana. Sitting on the southern edge of Plaza de Santa Ana, Cervecería Alemana ("German Beerhouse") was once the favorite taproom of Ernest Hemingway and many other celebrities of the day including Ava Gardner, each of whom either lived in or visited Madrid quite often throughout the 20th century. I had to explain who Ava Gardner was and felt a little old. These girls were have American on their mother’s side and I would have thought they had some background in our culture. Then again the woman died in 1990 so may have seemed like colonial history to the three of them. Tencie, called Dolly by her sisters, surprised me by looking her up and then saying, “Hey, she was married to Frank Sinatra. Bet Mother will get off on me knowing who she is. Mother loves Sinatra.”

“Brownie points for Dolly!” chuckled the middle sister, whom they called Gigi but whose proper name was Olga. I gathered from that their mother was proud of her Cuban immigrant heritage and I was to find out from the girls that I was correct. Jules was the oldest. She has no blood connection to their diplomat mother, but she’s the one that aligns more with her personality. Jules was the “his,” Gigi was the “hers,” and Dolly was “theirs.” Near stair stops. Jules was just turned 21, Gigi, will be 20 in a month, and Dolly will be nineteen in six weeks. There is a much younger brother back in the States that I gather has some rather severe health issues that he needs regular therapy for. It is believed he will outgrow the worst of them once he makes it into his mid-teens with the new treatment he is receiving and the diplomatic mission was too great a risk for him. Hence, him remaining in the care of other family.

“We speak to him almost every night even if Mother and Father cannot due to their schedules. Fredo is already so much better than he was that it looks like the therapy is working better than even the best case scenario we were given,” Jules told me. “I hated to see the kiddo left behind but he’s doing so much better. Uncle Tanner – Father’s brother – thinks that Mother’s position was creating too much … er …”

I nodded. “Understood. And I’ll keep it to myself. But I am glad that your brother is doing well and that all three of you are pleased. My first student had a family that at first didn’t understand him. It caused him some challenges that were similarly ‘er’ to what you didn’t say.”

Then Jules and Gigi chucked, while Dolly seemed to be trying to keep up. Dolly is a sweet girl but definitely not up to her sisters’ weight just yet. Gigi said, “You aren’t what Mother normally picks.”

“Excuse me?”

“She normally picks dragons or similar. I don’t know why she thinks we are going to go off and get crazy. We never have. And there’s been more opportunities to do that than she would ever want to know. None of us want that kind of trouble. I want to be able to move out before I’m old and crusty and being stupid is not going to let that happen. A little fun here and there, not mayhem that will eventually come out in the wash and make Mother even worse.”

“Yeah. We’ll wind up maidens in the tower that way,” Dolly said making me think maybe she was a little smarter than she let on, just in a different way from her sisters.

Jules was smiling but I caught something in her eyes. Here was a girl that wanted, maybe needed, some adventure. And if Mother Dearest didn’t let up she might be willing to suffer some mayhem to get it. Oh brother.

Again I distracted the over-personalized communication by continuing the tour, this time finishing the information I had on Cerveceria Alemana. Established in 1904 by a group of German manufacturers, hence the name, the brewery is still "a good place to drink beer and coffee," – as Hemingway once put it in his article in Life magazine – to be shared, if lucky, with "the most beautiful woman in the world". His regular table there still stands in the near right-hand corner and it feels every bit as though the man himself might walk through the door at any moment. This classic Spanish beer hall prefers buckets of olives to preening pretentions of city life, with wooden beams, hat racks and black and white photos from old bullfights. The food fills, the beer range (German, Belgian and Spanish) is broad, and the service is efficient. Lucky for us we could get non-alcoholic drinks. Jules asked if I would buy a bottle of beer for their father.

“Good idea,” Dolly said eagerly. “He’ll drink the Sherry with Mother but the beer will be all for him. Mother always says he can have a couple of month.”

I kept my wince to myself at the surprise of ever daring to “limit” Vit’s intake. I might not agree when he starts on too much vodka but asking him was one thing, dictating to him quite another. Not my marriage, not my monkies.

The guidebook I used said that Restaurante Sobrino de Botin was Madrid's most famous eatery. The Botin restaurant is reportedly the oldest continuously operating restaurant in the world, having been founded by Frenchman Jean Botin and his spouse in 1725 as Casa Botin. The restaurant was eventually inherited by their nephew, which explains the change of name to Sobrino de Botin ("Botin's Nephew") as it is now known by. The famous painter Francisco Goya is said to have worked there in his younger years as a dishwasher, and the place was also a firm favorite of Ernest Hemingway. The restaurant grew particularly popular after Hemingway's regular visits here, where, they say, he even set the last scene of his novel "The Sun Also Rises". Other than these historical associations, Botin is known primarily for its ambience, comfort, photo ops, and main specialty – the 'cochinillo' (roast suckling pig).

Thus ended the Hemingway Tour. I don’t know what the sisters had been expecting but they were a tad disappointed at how “boring” the Hemingway tour was. They weren’t rude. They didn’t blame me. And they enjoyed parts of it, but certainly overall they’d expected something more. We were not expected back to the hotel for several hours so rather than take them back I headed for my back up plan. I fortified them with Churros and Chocolate from the famous Chocolateria San Gines. Chocolate Established in 1894, Chocolateria San Gines in Madrid is famous for its staple – churros con chocolate – deep-fried batter sticks served with hot chocolate. Also on the menu is a good selection of cakes. This place is ideal for a quick break on a sightseeing walk, to sit down and enjoy the crispy churro dipped into the hot, thick, dark chocolate, while watching the world go by for a while. The hours of operation are 24/7/365. Mmmmm … deliciosa.

Chocolate, the cure for so many ills in the world. I asked them what they wanted to do with the extra time and, as I suspected, they wanted to do some shopping. Good thing yesterday’s walking tour gave me some ideas and I did a little more investigating to kill the time while my hair dried last night.

Closest shop was Cantaro. Its specialty? Spanish Ceramics. All over Spain ceramics is viewed as a craft. Broad brushstrokes of blue and gray swish around pitchers from Granada, radiantly colored flowers form rings inside of a serving bowl from Toledo, and a mosaic-tiled clock appears to come straight from a Gaudi museum. Cantaro, a shop just off the Gran Via, stocks artisanal wares from around the country at surprisingly reasonable prices. From pots, to platters, clocks, salt-and-pepper shakers and more, they have gifts in all shapes, sizes and prices. They’ll even package up your purchase so that it’s safe for a long journey home.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 165 - Part 2

Next was a place specializing in ooooo and aaahhhhh. El Corte Ingles is the place for the famous Majórica pearls. They also have a section of paella necessities. An odd combination, but it works. And rather well if the crowded shop was any indication. Majorica, a company started in 1897 on the island of Mallorca, produces its world-famous pearls by following a process similar to their development within an oyster. The man-made pearls consist of a solid glass-ball center that is covered layer by layer with a special paste made of various organic marine products (such as ground up mother of pearl and even fish scales as explained by the sales girl). Employing carefully guarded methods, Majorica is able to produce the ultimate man-made pearl. The resulting perfectly rounded gems have a shine and iridescence not found in nature. The jewelry was reasonably priced compared to some I had seen and all three sisters bought a different item.

Dolly explained, “This way we can borrow to make a set to wear or all wear something that ties us together.”

They also bought their father a man’s earring and their mother a tie tack. And I was a very diplomatic person and didn’t say a thing. Really. I may have thought it but I’ve learned the wisdom of keeping my mouth shut over things that are none of my business.

I did something I hadn’t meant to do but temptation got the better of me. OK, so you can’t exactly take a doggy bag in your suitcase, but you can at least return with the ingredients for the national dish paella. Part of what makes paella so delicious is the type of rice that grows in Valencia’s Albufera. This unique variety of rice is a fundamental ingredient because it absorbs all the flavors as the broth bubbles and reduces. Also important to paella creation is the paellera – the flat pan used to cook it. The paellera not only ensures that the rice cooks slowly and evenly, but, if done right, allows for the creation of the highly coveted crust on the bottom of the pan - the socarrat. Between the pan, the rice and a killer recipe, I hoped to be on the right path to making my own authentic paella. We’d had it on the O’Meg one night and … good memories. I wanted to bring them back to life for Vit and I. I’ll just avoid the temptation of buying post cards.

Or so had been my intention. We were in the middle of heading to the next shop the sisters thought would be interesting when my wrist buzzed. I surreptitiously glanced at it expecting an emergency when Polina asked me to pick up my phone for a communique. Becoming all serious I asked the sisters to stop a moment and grab a drink as a food stand. They were agreeable and it kept them where I could see them.

“Chief Dymtrus to Chief Ivanov.”

“Relax Veta. You look ready to go to war. Vit sends regards and to stop the worrying. He has arranged finances and you are to use it at your discretion with your … hmm … the man’s handwriting is as bad as Yegor’s. Discretion. Yes, that is the word.”

“Er …”

“Yes, yes, the personal communication prohibition. It is good to follow rules and be careful but there should also be recompense for what is being done to you … without my say so. I will find out who …”

“If this continues as now, it is not a bad gig … job. Maybe not so much putting me in my place but getting their way or as a personal favor.”

“Explain,” she said all business.

I panned my body cam and asked, “Do you see?”

After a moment she said, “Ah … I will check into it. I am still not pleased. And you will let me know how the … gig … continues.”

“Yes, Chief.”

Polina chuckled a little darkly. She knows I can be sneaky and that I have her back because she has so often had mine. Calling her Chief was a way of making the call less personal and more professional if it was reviewed by anyone else. She was letting me know that with more facts in hand, she would find out if it was a case of someone once again targeting me or if it was someone – the Sisters’ diplomat mother – seeking privileges or favors. Either could be problematic if initially appearing harmless on the surface.

The call completed and the sisters’ thirst quenched we headed to Casa de Diego for Spanish Fans. The shops that litter the tourist traps of Madrid are littered with fans of all shapes, sizes and colors. The selection may be large, but the quality is usually low. The fans found at Casa de Diego in Puerto del Sol, where three generations of family continue to make and sell traditional Spanish fans, is truly authentic. Flowers, lace, ornately painted images – they’ve got every kind of fan imaginable, all made right there in the store. The sisters were enthralled. Dolly especially stared dreamily at a few of them. The two older sisters looked at each other, rolled their eyes, but pulled out their debit cards and split the cost of a particularly lovely one as an advance gift for Dolly’s birthday.

Jules said, “If you would save your money instead of spending it on all of your art supplies you would have money for things like fans and …”

Gigi looked at her reproachfully and said, “You sound like Mother.”

Jules became sad until Dolly said, “Oh don’t let’s argue. The day is too nice. And people like me need people like Jules. And she’s right. I shouldn’t have bought all of that green acrylic. I could have made my own phthalo green, I just didn’t want to take the time and use up all of my blue and yellow.”

The two older sisters once again looked at each other, this time in harmony, and rolled their eyes. It appears that Dolly’s dreaminess is a personality trait of long standing and the older sisters humor her as well as look after her.

Our next stop was right up Dolly’s alley. Almost 100 years ago, the shop La Violeta opened its doors, selling a selection of candies and other treats. After several years, one of its signature items became quite famous – las violetas. Nowadays, that same shop is run by the family’s third generation and still sells the same famous Madrid treats. There, you can pick from a wide selection of quantities and containers wrapped in their signature purple ribbon. The little sweets, purple and in the shape of their namesake flower, are made with flower essence and have the slightest floral flavor.

Jules picked the next shop. Borca to look for a new shawl. I gathered from Gigi and Dolly that their Mother isn’t quite sure what to make of Jules’ fascination with shawls.

“It’s just a thing, you know? It’s how she takes the boring clothes we have to wear at home and let’s her make them more her,” Gigi explained while her other two sisters looked around the shop. “Jules … she could turn into Mother too easily even though Mother isn’t the … you know.”

“She isn’t Jules’ biological mother.”

“Yeah. Her real mother abandoned her when she left to find herself or something like that. Then she died real sudden from what they said was an embolism because she was shooting up with hormones and wasn’t doing it right. My birth father died too … ran into a tree while skiing a trail way above his skill level. Mother and Father … most people look at them and think they know but … our home life is actually pretty good. They just kind of freak out because they’re always worried about our safety or that we’ll make lame choices like our birth parents did. They just don’t want to lose us. But with Jules? They need to lighten up. The shawls, just like Dolly’s art, is a way for them to … be something different without freaking the parental units out too much.”

“And you?” I asked, regretting it almost instantly.

“Mother’s grandmother lived with us for a while when we were all little. It was great. Then she got sick and the doctor’s said she didn’t have long. Mother fixed it so each of us could spend a little alone time with her, not eve na nurse in the room. I don’t know what she said to Jules and Dolly – we share a lot but not everything – but to me Abuela said, ‘You’ll always be your Mother’s daughter, God ordained it; but that doesn’t mean you have to be your mother.’ Pretty wise dontcha think?”

It wasn’t an answer, and yet it was. Nothing else was said on the subject and Gigi went to her sisters to help pick out an elaborately embroidered shawl with Jules. Called mantones de manila, the traditional Spanish shawl gets its name from the port in the Philippines where the Spanish colony exchanged goods from the Far East. First popular in Southern Spain, the garment, known for its intricate embroidery, originally gained fame among flamenco dancers and even mainstream use in everyday life throughout the nation. These days, while shawls remain a flamenco staple, they are not a daily fashion accessory and instead only reserved for more formal occasions. For casual ware there were nice, and less expensive pashmina-like shawls.

From shawls the sisters wanted to pick up a hat for their father at La Favorita. The Mother really liked when their Father wore hats … especially the typical Spanish hat found on most older gentlemen in Spain. La Favorita is the oldest hat shop in Madrid. Founded in 1894 and family-run, the sisters looked at gorras (messenger caps), proper sombreros (straw hats), as well as boinas (more or less what we might call a beret). The gorras are more commonly worn during the cold winter months, while the sombreros are a popular summer choice.

While they were in the mood to shop they decided to get a gift for the aunt that was taking care of their brother. She embroiders as a way to relax in the evenings and they’d heard about a shop called Gritos de Madrid where they could get a special thimble. Most people probably fall into two categories when it comes to thimble collecting: they love the idea, or they think it’s silly. I know that Angelia has most of Momma’s thimbles but I have one as well that I keep tucked in my jewelry box back home. But that thimble is humble indeed compared to the ornately handmade thimbles at Gritos. While most tourist shops sell poorly made, even cheesy thimbles to the masses, Gritos sells true collectors’ items, ranging from commemorative to customized. Fancy a certain animal? Most likely they have a deal for you. Obsessed with a cartoon character? They’ll probably have that too. They’re cute, they’re cheap, and most likely at least one person in your family would absolutely love one. I know I purchased a few of the least expensive ones as future gifts for my sisters. The sisters purchased a very lovely porcelain one that had a flamenco dancer painted on it.

Next came Alpargatas at Casa Hernanz. They are the favorite summer shoe in Spain. Made of rope and cloth, the shoes form a staple of Spanish summer attire, particularly at the beach. Apart from the appealing bohemian look, they come in 32 colors. And even better, they are very inexpensive. They need to be, they only last about a season. Locals usually stock up yearly, purchasing a slew of their favorite colors. Dolly fell in love with a lavender colored pair and at five euros she could afford them without her sisters’ help.

Last stop before we had to return to the hotel for the evening’s activity was back to the shop Chocolat for a bar of their melt-it-and-make-it-yourself-at-home chocolate to give to their mother’s long-suffering clerk. I silently congratulated them. Keeping in the good graces of something that works so closely with and for their mother would never be a bad idea.

I must say I could have ended the day right there and called it a success, much better than I had anticipated. However upon entering the hotel I was given a note that I was to accompany the sisters to dinner. Not to eat dinner with them of course but to deliver them to their parents who would be traveling by taxi from another location. Another flamenco show, this time at Corral de la Moreria.

Born in the melting pot of Andalucia, where gypsies, Moors and Jews once mingled their cultural and musical traditions, flamenco has come to represent the nation. The featured dancers and musicians at Corral de la Moreria are some of the finest in the world. After delivering the sisters, freshly attired in modest but obviously expensive clothes, I went to the back of the theater to find that Clarkson had saved a seat for me. It turned out to be his seat.

“Do me a favor, sit here. I need to move closer to the third table from the left. Got a big talker and big drinker in that group. Nearly had trouble with him a few times. I’m going to have to watch how freely the wine gets poured.”

A little nonplussed I nevertheless asked, “Anyone in particular you need me to keep an eye on?”

Nodding he said, “Those girls.”

“They didn’t give me any problems today.”

“The girls aren’t the problem. It’s the lads that come sniffing their way that set their mother off. She nearly corked one of them last time. Admin doesn’t want a repeat.”

He made his way around and sure enough, before the night was over, I had a list of men that I might just toss over the railing once we are back on the B. I’m fairly certain the sisters aren’t doing it on purpose – the mixed signals – but even if they are, the men are old enough to know better. Thankfully dinner and then the show forced most to keep their distance. For whatever reason the presence of the sisters’ parents wasn’t nearly the deterrent it should have been.

Afterwards I was invited to share a taxi back to the Hotel Riu Plaza España with the family. It wasn’t politeness, it was the empty seat was being fought over by a few of the men who hoped to get closer to the sisters. A crafty elbow somehow got me into the taxi before one of the men. Wink, wink, nudge.

Jules asked, “Teach me that move? Diplomacy isn’t working.”

Forgetting myself for a moment I responded, “Diplomacy doesn’t always work. Try it first, but carry a big stick.”

Gigi snickered. Realizing how what I said could be perceived I turned to apologize to their mother when she caught me off guard by muttering, “Good Lord, someone with some sense. How unexpected.” Instead of addressing me she then started dictating what I took to be a proposal into a handheld device and consequently ignored everyone else. The girls were telling their father about their day and it left me to ride in silence as I looked out the taxi window at our escort vehicles.

It has made for a long day and late night and I’ve been waiting for my reports to upload to Polina. Tomorrow is a day trip to Toledo and the day after that will be our transfer in Salamanca where we will get on a river boat that will take us from Madrid to Portugal where we will connect back with the B in Lisbon. I shall do my best but I am already missing Vit and regretting how we parted. Perhaps there will be another opportunity to hear from him even if it is through a third party. Doubtful but … I can hope.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 166: Jun 28 – Madrid to Toledo to Madrid (Sunday)

A rush this morning that was only saved by liberal application of coffee. Happily for me, tea was available. Strong, black tea. When he spotted me coming with a tray of to-go coffee cups Clarkson whispered, “Any way a man can hope one of those are for him?”

“They say there is always hope.” Bleck, someone could have made something out of that had anyone been listening. I quickly added, “Learned this with the students. Hopefully it will work on this group as well. And yes, I always make sure there is enough for personnel.” Handing him one quickly I asked, “Where’s the remainder of the group?”

“Split. The diplomats and their staff are staying here at the hotel. They are sending the younger set off – or at least those that aren’t on the payroll – to get them out from under foot. I’m thinking some of the parents aren’t too keen on having brought their chicks along. At least there’s no babies. The youngest is actually one of the girls you are riding herd on. By the way, Ivanov sent me a copy of your report. Good job. Some of my boys wouldn’t have had a back up plan. Need to address that more in training with this lot.” He took a sip and then said, “You have lead on the day trip. I’d send someone with you, but the rest of our detail is needed here. Can you handle it?”

“I’ve done it with secondary students. Anyone going I can assign to be second in case something happens to me? I normally have at least one other chaperone.”

He gave it a thought. “Sorry. No one jumps to mind.”

“Then I’ll just break them down into buddy groups – hopefully without them noticing – and go from there to feel out the leaders in the group. I’ll keep my camera on.”

“You comfortable with that?”

I shrugged. “Barely even think about it anymore. And it is safer with students as it keeps everything level, above board, and there’s no question of hanky panky.”

“You didn’t just say …”

I shrugged again. “Better than some of the more vulgar things it could be called.”

“Too right.” Transferring a file to my tablet/clipboard he headed off and I continued on to liberally dose those under my care with caffeine.

# # # # #

Toledo has been at various times an ancient Roman colony, a medieval Moorish capital, and a center for religious tolerance. It is said to be Spain’s spiritual heart where Muslims, Jews and Christians have peacefully co-existed for three centuries. I am not sure that is truly the case, but it certainly has a more peaceful history than some locations in Spain. Toledo has also won the title of Gastronomic Capital of Spain multiple times over the years. Now that I can believe without reservation.

I learned I was to thank the sisters for my position today, they refused to budge until I was named the group escort. This time it was their father that pulled the strings. Perhaps the man has more talents than at first impression.

It’s not far from Madrid to Toledo, but it definitely feels like a journey into the past. What a difference those few miles made.

We enjoyed refreshments while taking in the beautiful colonial gardens of “Hacienda el Carral” before we began our walking tour. The moment we stepped through the medieval city gate into the holy city, we stepped into the three cultures and religions that shaped early Spain. Muslims, Jews and Christians lived peacefully together here for three centuries following the Moorish conquest in 712. The gate itself was built by the Moors—the lower part dates to the 10th century—and leads to the narrow lanes and stone houses of the Jewish Quarter. Synagogue Santa Maria la Blanca encapsulates the whole story: Built in typical Mudéjar style by Moors for the Jewish community, the synagogue was turned into a church in the 15th century, after Jews and Muslims were driven from the country, but the white horseshoe arches and Hebrew inscriptions remain as reminders of its origins.

Our guide’s assistant never showed up so in addition to security detail I became the tail of the snake that kept anyone from falling behind or getting lost or distracted. That position also meant I could more easily deal with paparazzi that tried to sneak into our group from the back.

First came the Cathedral of Toledo. The Cathedral of Saint Mary of Toledo is the second largest cathedral in Spain and the most important. The tower of the Cathedral is 301 feet tall and can be seen from almost anywhere in the city. The inside spaces are incredibly beautiful, and this is definitely not a case of “you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all.” I will admit to a guilty action. Photos aren’t really allowed, but I did sneak a few, I just couldn’t help it! Or I could have but chose not to. I did it with my tablet/clipboard and no one was the wiser, not even the docent that was taking us around. Sigh. Confession is good for the soul, but I’m sure I don’t feel guilty enough. Outside the Cathedral had no such strictures and I made sure to take photos of all our group and upload them so they could copy them. The sisters found my blog/vlog fascinating and asked if they could join. I have given them limited access and all three have peppered me with endless questions tonight. More on that later.

The Jewish Quarter was another important landmark we explored. It is popular tourist destination that you can’t miss because it is very clearly marked with signs and tiles inlaid into the walls and streets surrounding it. At night there are even images in Spanish, English and Hebrew projected onto the streets letting you know you’ve arrived. I saw pictures of it but we didn’t stay late enough to witness it.

There are no operational synagogues within the walls of the old city; however there are two former synagogues and a mosque which people can visit and all three of them are now museums. The first one is El Transito, a former synagogue dating back to the mid-14th century. It is now called the Museo Sefardi. The next is Santa María la Blanca, also a museum and former synagogue, and was built in 1180. Some believe it to be the oldest synagogue building in Europe which is still standing. It is now owned and preserved by the Catholic Church. Last (but not least) is the former Mosque. Built in 999 on the site of a former church, the Mosque of Cristo de la Luz is the only surviving Moorish mosque in the city of Toledo that remains virtually unchanged since its construction.

The Monasterio de San Juan De Los Reyes, another of today’s visited landmarks, was founded by King Ferdinand II of Aragon and Queen Isabella I of Castile. Originally it was to be their final resting place, but they later changed their minds and chose to be buried in Granada instead. We were unable to visit the inside due to a wedding taking place, but we were able to walk through the cloisters and other areas of the monastery. The exterior of the monastery, per the Queen’s order, is covered in manacles and shackles worn by Christian prisoners from Granada who were released during the Reconquista.

Toledo is not only known for its religious history, but also for its weapon and armor production, Damasquinado jewelry, marzipan and of course it’s amazing Spanish cuisine. Everywhere you look there are stores that sell weapons and armors and right next to it is a food vendor of some type, whether it is a restaurant or not.

Our guide allowed the group to dictate some of our itinerary. A little disconcerting but nevertheless enjoyed by the participants. Santo Tomé is famous for housing El Greco’s The Burial of the Count of Orgaz. El Greco was just one of Spain’s cultural icons to reside in Toledo; Cervantes also made his home here, as did Lope de Vega). Those so inclined enjoyed a glass of wine from La Mancha and a bite to eat at one of the nearby cafés. Another shop offered up locally grown saffron and another marzipan (made with Spanish almonds) which is a popular and traditional sweet in Toledo. We spent an hour tasting a combination of wines, cheeses, and oils … and being encouraged to make purchases of those items. The legal drinking age in Spain is eighteen and those even younger than 16 can purchase beer and wine if accompanied by a parent. Dolly sniffed disdainfully, refusing to participate in any of the tastings – she has a metabolic condition that causes alcohol to make her feel ill – but did accept a bottle of sparkling juice her sisters found for her.

I pulled Jules to the side. “Does anyone else have dietary restrictions? I’m not seeing them on my personnel sheet.”

“Normally it isn’t an issue,” she answered. “We usually travel with our parents. They only officially diagnosed her last year. Before that we just thought she was allergic to some medications. Father insisted on her seeing a specialist last time it happened and they finally figured out what was going on. Ask Father for anything else. He keeps track of her med files and I’m sure he would give you a copy of the card she used to carry before she got her medi-necklace.”

“I didn’t see a necklace.”

Jules shook her head. “She hides it under her shirt. She’s still embarrassed by the whole thing.”

“That’s not necessary. If it is a metabolic issue she was born that way, she didn’t do anything to cause it.”

“Try telling her that. She’s worried that people are going to think she is either a zealous teetotaler or a recovering alcoholic.”

I made the note and tonight I found out that the reason why it is restricted access information is there was some fear that someone would use it to poison Dolly. I’m not sure that I agree with that thought but at least I now have the information I need on all three sisters – and a couple of the other personnel – in case there is a medical emergency.

The last activity of the day before returning to Madrid was something I was dreading. I went on a hot air balloon ride once with Devin. Not my favorite memory as I became quite motion sick and miserable. Devin told me that it was because we got caught in some wind and it took us a while to come down safely. Ugh. And being the lead security I was unable to take a motion sickness pill because it might make me drowsy. Turns out I needn’t have worried. I actually enjoyed the hour-long air ride from Toledo back to Madrid.

Our entire group climbed into the balloon’s large, sturdy basket. I was nearly deaf from the roar of the gas flame until we reached cruising altitude. I was a bit frantic as I watched people hang their cameras and phones over the edge of the basket to take panoramic photographs of the ancient sprawl of Toledo, with its winding River Tajo and the majestic Alćazar of Toledo. The “captain” of the balloon and our guide then asked everyone to refrain from doing that just in case they dropped it. Explaining they could accidentally kill someone if an accident happened was all the encouragement that was needed to follow the rule of keeping everything inside the basket. I hand only been worried someone was going to lose a piece of tech and would have to write up an incident report. We finally returned to solid ground after an hour in the air. Whew. Once we landed, we were treated to a hearty tea that comprised of many Spanish specialties like cured meats, creamy cheeses and freshly baked bread. Each group member, including myself, also received a souvenir photo.

Tonight I have a new room assignment. The sisters offered me space in their hotel room. I was unsure how to respond until their Mother approached and said that it would please her if I accepted their offer. When I nodded the sisters hurried off to make sure that a cot was delivered. Before I left to gather my belongs both parents privately asked me to make sure their daughters actually remained in their room and/or didn’t have guests during the night. I thought that a bit much but apparently it was a concern they could not get rid of, especially with the young men that were trying to catch their attention. I assured them that their daughters had behaved with all due propriety when in my presence.

Their father said, “My daughters are perhaps more naïve than they should be. We’ve … overprotected them I suppose but you are only young once and …” He sighed and shrugged. “But we recognize it and are addressing it. It is why we requested you specifically.”

Well I was a bit flabbergasted. It explains much and confirms what I’d theorized to Polina. For her part, and I got permission from her before actually switching rooms, Polina was irritated that I’d been chosen to act as “duenna” or chaperone for the younger members of the party. Her irritation wasn’t at the assignment so much as at the diplomats circumventing her plans by going through someone in Admin.

“I would have had no problem assigning you for this. I do not like that they used their influence to take the decision away from me. I would have arranged the details differently. It leaves me shorthanded of independent workers in other areas.”

Well, what’s done is done and at least I am less worried that I have to watch for a knife in my back … either a figurative or literal one. I also got a note from Dylan, an action he cannot repeat, that let me know that Vit says all is well and do not hesitate about the additional credits on the card, that he means for me to spend it, and not just on post cards. And the part that really embarrassed Dylan was relaying that Vit sends a kiss and will miss me. I nearly laughed at how uncomfortable my brat was at delivering that particular part. Dylan did say that Vit seemed stressed and distracted. He wanted to know if something was going on that he needed to worry about. I denied anything other than the normal stress of the mission and Dylan accepted that. I would have been very happy with the message if not for Dylan’s concern. Ugh. Why can’t I just accept things as they are instead of looking for problems?

I’m relieved the sisters are finally asleep and I could finish my reports and this journal entry here in the other part of the suite they occupy. Tomorrow we transfer and I should be asleep but things keep nagging at me. Why can’t I take things at face value instead of trying to … Vit is not Robert. He is NOT. I must not even let my brain take a step in that direction. I am stopping and going to sleep. This is ridiculous.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 167: Jun 29 - Madrid, Salamanca, Transfer to Vega de Terrón (Embark)

Hmm. Interesting day. Not sure whether that qualifies as sarcasm or not. Still, I’ve wound up in an interesting setting. Not what I expected.

We checked out of the hotel early this morning. I was up before the Sisters but amazingly they weren’t up much later than I. They did look at me and say, “Lead up to the coffee god. Please?”

Apparently I’ve got an in that others have failed to locate. It is amazing what tipping and good manners will yield with people used to cranky, entitled tourists. Breakfast was continental and as a group in the banquet hall, while details of the day were explained. As security personnel I already reviewed the info but it was still enlightening to see how others processed it … and reacted to it. And it was telling that even administrative and diplomatic staff members were not being given much information in advance. In the course of the day I found out from Clarkson that there had been leaks of the itinerary in the past and it caused problems with the media and protestors. I suppose withholding information until absolutely necessary would at least mean that you could narrow down the location of the leak.

Our ship was waiting in Vega de Terrón, near the Portuguese border. On our way there we stopped in the historic university town of Salamanca—the “Golden City”—famous for its sand-colored buildings and abundance of churches. Salamanca is the town where Columbus sought advice before sailing west in search of the new route to the Indies.

While I took a small group on a walking tour (with guide), the remainder of the group did a media event.

Called the “Golden City” for its tawny sandstone buildings, Salamanca boasts at least a dozen beautiful and historic churches, including two cathedrals: the “new” one, built in the early 16th century, and the Old Cathedral, which dates to the 12th century and can only be entered from the New Cathedral.

We started our tour at the Plaza Mayor, lined with wonderful baroque buildings. It is the main attraction of the Salamanca city center. The square is surrounded on all sides by a quintessentially Spanish box of arcades. This public square is popular with local and tourists alike and is lined with all sorts of shops and restaurants and outdoor tables and chairs spilling out of cafes onto the square. The Baroque architecture of the surrounding buildings is a lot to take in, from the detailed stonework and antique shutters to the plaques, statues and medallions bearing faces. Plaza Mayor is also the where you will find a famous clock tower and the city hall, however you will have to look for them because they blend in with the rest of the square’s buildings.

Next our guide took us for a different view of the city, this one from the city’s rooftops. For this we went up on the towers of the Clerecia Church. Known as the Scala Coeli or “stairway to heaven” in Latin, our visit involved climbing up the church tower to admire some awesome views. What was unique is that there is a transept balcony between the two towers which allowed, allowing for plenty of vantage points. Salamanca took on a whole new perspective from that point of view.

Despite the city’s many attractions, our guide said its greatest claim to fame is without question the University of Salamanca. The school was founded in 1134 and is the third oldest operating university in the world. The ornate façade is stunning, and the interior rooms that we were allowed to see were equally beautiful. Salamanca’s food hall at the university is one of Spain’s best, as we discovered when we sampled chorizos, cheese, olive oil and ham with our guide’s assistance. The campus of the university takes up a considerable portion of the Old Town, from the core buildings around Patio de Escuelas to buildings like the Anaya Palace. I had no idea how extensive the campus until our guide started showing us around. It eclipses many large universities we have in the States. The other noticeable hallmark of the university is the historic graffiti you can see displayed on the sides of some buildings. This graffiti is part of a traditional practice, as it bears the names of graduating students written in bull’s blood in celebration of their accomplishment. The university in Seville apparently has the same tradition but … ugh … definitely not something I would have wanted to see on my own university campus.

From there we went to the Cathedrals that I described above and from there we continued our Old Town tour. If you look at a map of Salamanca and the city’s historic center, it doesn’t seem particularly large. Yet, because of how the streets are set up and how narrow they are in places, an awful lot is packed in the small place. It is a real maze. A true warren, yet surprisingly clean and well-cared for. It appears freshly renovated but when I asked our guide said that it is kept in such good repair at all times that exterior full-renovations are rare. Interiors are another matter.

As for the building themselves, the old town of Salamanca is home to countless palaces. While several are incorporated into Salamanca university, there are also ones like Palacio Monterrey and Arias Corvelle Palace. Arias Corvelle Palace is particularly noteworthy for its sgraffito design which I didn’t spot anywhere else in the city. Most of Salamanca is traditionally made up of Gothic and Baroque architecture. Convento de San Esteban is one of its more imposing and impressive. A Dominican monastery, this building replaced an earlier convent and was completed in the early 17th century. Perhaps the most striking thing about the monastery is the very ornate facade that is said to be a perfect example of Plateresque design, a type of Renaissance architecture.

A “hidden gem” that our guide took us to was the gardens of Huerto de Calixto y Melibea. It sits atop the ancient city walls, and is a small, secluded garden. It offers some great views across the city despite its modest elevation. We accessed it down a dead-end alley that made me nervous at first. I still wasn’t thrilled with there only being one way in and one way out, but we didn’t stay long. There weren’t very many other people there which was nice as the Old Town had been growing very crowded with both locals and tourists.

Our last stop on the tour was outside of town. Salamanca sits along the Tormes River and can trace its history back to the Romans. We left the city center to walk to the Roman Bridge of Salamanca. Likely 2000 years old, it’s only the end nearest to the city center that has Roman origins. It is amazing that the structure has managed to survive as long as it has.

The van arrived the same time as our tour ended. Everyone seemed happy to see it as they were getting footsore. The students I normally shepherd would have still had many more miles in them. I still had more miles in me to be honest but it was time to move on.

We quickly caught up to the larger and slower bus carrying the main bulk of the detour group and follow them the remainder of the way to Vega de Terrón and the river port. Clarkson asked me to focus on getting the sisters onboard, checked in, and settled in and then ride herd on them so he could keep their parents focused on the remaining group and their duties. Easier said than done as our luggage was some of the last to come off the bus since it had been some of the first put on.

That is when I discovered I would be in an unusual “single” cabin that was actually a converted crew cabin. Four people shared in bunk beds similar to old-style overnight rail accommodations. The other three bunks were assigned to Jules, Gigi, and Dolly who were all absolutely thrilled I tell you … thrilled. They really were happy, but their happiness was a bit much to take in volume. It was an ADVENTURE! Yeah right. I wonder I am getting “old” to not find it quite the adventure they consider it.

I shouldn’t complain. It is a job I willingly accepted. The girls really aren’t bad at all, much better than some that I went to school with at that age. And for Heaven’s sake, I’m not that much older than they are if you are counting years. They’re personable and agreeable and seem to enjoy my company and include me even when they don’t have to. I think I am simply becoming jaded. I need to work on that. But I am thankful that the curtains on the bunks will allow me some privacy even if the rest will be like living back in the dorms at UNF.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 168: Jun 30 – Barca d’Alva (Castelo Rodrigo), Pinhão

Traveling by river is much different than traveling from port to port on the Bonhoeffer. Some of the differences are obvious and some less so. On the river you are always in view of land and in a much more intimate setting due to the ship’s size. That has its good points and bad. And in this case, we are sharing the space with a couple of large civilian groups. Not tourists exactly, but not members of the Peace Mission either. One of the groups is made up solely of media types, most of whom work behind the camera rather than in front of it. One of the smaller contingents is made up of “influencers,” those people who intimately open their lives up for others to see and who make their living from sponsorships and subscribers to their podcasts and other video feeds. Another group is climate scientists. I am glad I was able to get off the ship with the sisters or I would have wound up with the same massive headache that Clarkson was feeling during the security detail’s evening reports meeting.

One of the other personnel snarked, “What a difficult day you must have had. All that sightseeing. Oh my.”

Clarkson growled, “Knock it off Lipson. You heard Ivanov’s warning. No in-fighting. We’re all in this together.”

“Yeah, well special privileges doesn’t make it seem …”

Deciding to hold my own I said, “Thank you for your consideration Chief Clarkson but I assure you Mr. Lipson’s attitude is understandable considering the false information that has been spread since the beginning of the mission as well as the fact that he hasn’t had a rotation with the students.” When Lipson and the other turned to look at me I explained. “On first blush your concerns are justified. I’m a chief that appears to get light duty all the time. And I must admit that on this rotation I could have been better utilized except for the fact that some Admin personnel dictated my position rather than leaving it up to Chief Ivanov. Sucks to be the people filling the hole that generated and they have my sympathies but that’s sometimes the job. As for today? Let me put today’s report to you succinctly. I was the sole security personnel dealing with seven high-value potential targets in a foreign port. Not only did I have to remain situationally aware due to security issues, my charges were made up of three young, impressionable females from a wealthy family with parents that have expectations … and that is all in CAPS in a personally delivered demand … as well as four young males from similar familial backgrounds that are suffering from terminal testosterone poisoning and libidos that their parents would do well to seal in a lock box until such a time they actually know how to manage them. My assignment doesn’t allow me to simply stand back and watch, but I must participate at all times and at all levels to maintain the safety, health, and … ugh … mood of my charges. And all of this must be accomplished without looking like a lion tamer carrying a whip and chair. Nor must I appear to have favorites, become overly familiar, be too distant, rely on my gender, have expectations of personal privacy, go without recognizing the superiority of my superiors, yada, etc., and ad nauseum. I go through a large bottle of naproxen every couple of weeks … without hazard pay. Diplomacy. It isn’t a tool solely wielded by diplomats. How was your day Lipson? Similar I suspect. So now that we know we have common ground can we please get back to business? I have to escort my charges to dinner. And I’m praying the hounds sniffing their heels are better behaved while under the eye of their parents than they were today. I’m giving serious consideration to the efficacy of liberally lacing those caballeros’ meals with saltpeter.”

I’d been clicking through some of my “to be deleted” photos while I gave my soliloquy and the rest of the table were chuckling while Lipson’s look turned to alarm when Clarkson asked if he wanted to help me tomorrow.

“Hell no. I’d be barking by tea time.”

Everyone chuckled (though my own wasn’t real) and then got on with the meeting

Today’s port was Barca d’Alva, a tiny village surrounded by mountains. And today’s excursion involved Castelo Rodrigo, both the name of a hilltop castle as well as the village that surrounds it. It is one of Portugal’s twelve historic villages and known for its medieval beauty. The view from the top was incredible and the village is a charming place to ramble, relax and replenish. It would have been a good time if not for the four male idiots that came along.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be so draconian where they are concerned. Some of it is culture I am sure. But the rest? Someone – preferrable a large male – needs to impress on them that all of us are the public face of the Peace Mission and their behavior is not only boorish but off-putting professionally for their family group. It definitely puts them in a bad light. Their immaturity was noted, and with pictures in-hand Clarkson who knows the older brothers of two of them said he’d have a private word in hopes of settling them down. He said they weren’t that bad until recently and it may be a case of summer fidgets and/or cabin fever. Lipson added that it was the same for sailors when they got off ships and into port for the first time in a while.

“Well they aren’t sailors, they’re students. University age, but still old enough they should be mature enough to take this seriously. They are under the same prohibitions as the rest of us. I don’t want to have to get shot at to dig them out of some back-alley bar they were too stupid to step into.”

“That bad?” Clarkson asked with concern.

“Once today yes. I requested our guide route us around other such locations and he was agreeable. The town wasn’t large so it was easy to do. Thank goodness the paparazzi was otherwise occupied at the time. The sisters may be naïve in some respects but I’ll give them points that they’ve been born and raised to diplomacy and know how to help out in a difficult situation. The oldest really should be given a chance for some training. She’s nearly finished with her poli-sci degree.”

“What are the boys’ degrees in?”

“Underwater basket weaving from the sound of it.” At Lipson’s confused look I rephrased it. “They are professional students and haven’t selected a degree yet. They just take what courses suit their current interests or that keep their family happy. Mostly liberal arts. But they all expect to graduate to six figure salaries.”

“Those types are they? Too bad they never approved the proposed on-board paramilitary training academy; they would have benefitted from it.”

Clarkson shook his head. “People in admin thought it might be viewed as a type of Sturmabteilung or ‘Brown Shirt’ organization. And with the agenda some of the diplomats seem to have that might not be too far from the truth. Certainly it would have to be watched closely.”

First I had heard of such a thing. I wonder if Vit knew and what his opinion was if he had.

After disembarking to a large passenger van our group rode through a scenic countryside to Castelo Rodrigo while our guide explained the area is noted for its honey, wild lavender, and almond groves. The castle ruins stand high atop Marofa Mountain as example of defensive structures built as a result of border strife and Portugal’s struggle for independence. Construction on the citadel began in 1209 under the auspices of the king of Leon, but it became part of Portugal within a century— however, its local lords sided with Spanish rulers from time to time over the next four centuries. The palace adjoining the castle lies in ruins because outraged citizens destroyed it after its lord sided with Castile.

We took in the view from the ancient stone walls, then hiked down through the tiny cobbled lanes of the village, passing the old pillory, the Manueline church, and the town’s market square. It wasn’t all history, of course. The group got to sample delicious local treats, such as honey, almonds, olive oil and cheeses. Rather than the pub the young men wanted to wander into, a newly restored tea-house invited us to relax over a cup of tea. I requested chamomile for most of our party and there was a noticeable change in mood not long after. I checked their medical records for any allergies beforehand of course, but I’ll use the tools I must when I must. They were starting to get ridiculous and I was done with it at that point. It was warm enough and the tea iced enough that no one gave a second thought to it specifically. I sent what I had done in an encrypted addendum to Polina. If she has questions I said to ask Yegor. Hopefully no one takes offense, and I don’t get in hot water for it. It was an option of last resort and not something I want to utilize regularly.

From its hilltop position, the small village of Castelo Rodrigo looks eastwards to Spain and northwards to the deep valley of the River Douro. According to tradition, it was founded by Alfonso IX of León, in order to be given to Count Rodrigo Gonzalez de Girón, who repopulated it and gave it its name. With the Treaty of Alcanices, signed in 1297 by Dinis, poet and king of Portugal, it came into the possession of the Portuguese crown.

Castelo Rodrigo still reveals scars left by the constant disputes over the territory. The first such episode took place less than a hundred years after its integration into the kingdom of Portugal, during the dynastic crisis of 1383-1385. Beatriz, the only daughter of Fernando of Portugal, was married to the king of Castile. With her accession to the throne on the death of her father, Portugal was set to lose its independence in favor of Castile. Castelo Rodrigo sided with Beatriz, but João, the Master of Avis, defeated the Castilians at the Battle of Aljubarrota, in 1385, and as a result was crowned king of Portugal, taking the name of João the First. As a reprisal for the lords of Castelo Rodrigo having sided with Castile, the new king ordered that the shield and the coat of arms of Portugal should always be displayed upside down on the town´s coat of arms.

In the 16th century, when Philip II of Spain annexed the Portuguese Crown, Governor Cristóvão de Mora became the defender of the cause of Castile and suffered revenge from the local population, who set fire to his enormous palace on 10 December 1640, as soon as they received the news of the Restoration of Portugal (which took place on 1 December). The aftermath of this event is the ruins that can be seen next to the castle. Another bit of history our guide shared was that St. Francis of Assisi spent the night there on his pilgrimage to the tomb of St. James.

The remainder of our time in port was free and I was thankful to return the young men to the pier where they boarded the ship while the sisters asked if I would accompany them as they explored the town a little more. I nodded, no more enamored of returning to the ship as they were. One thing I found out that our guide hadn’t mentioned, perhaps as a way to keep the young men from getting too interested, is that town has been known for their wine for two thousand years, mostly a port wine that has been a tradition since the Roman era.

There was once a flourishing rail line to Barca d’Alva but they’ve rerouted the tracks for environmental purposes. You can still see evidence of the tracks however if you know where to look. The town is also now part of the National Park of Douro International giving the surrounding terraces of grape vines, olive trees, and almond groves additional protection.

There really wasn’t that much more to do in the town so we headed back to the pier in plenty of time to be there ahead of the diplomats and their staff. The sisters’ father took them away – he wanted to hear all about their day – and I went to my security meeting after we pulled away from the pier. Getting everyone on and off the ship is much faster than on the B. That part I like.

The part that is a little uncomfortable is that everyone – all personnel and all paygrades – eat at the same time in the same dining area. That also includes the non-Peace Mission groups on board. Everyone is expected to meet and mingle but Clarkson reserved a table just for security. It made it more difficult for anyone to try and corner us and squeeze info out of us.

The sisters returned to the cabin after socializing with their parents and I was thankful I’d taken the time to shower and spruce up my uniform while they were out. I don’t know if I made the mistake of playing housekeeper but I was tired of tripping over shoes. I’ll see if it sticks and hopefully I won’t have to do it over and over again. If we have to evacuated in the dark, the fewer tripping hazards the better in my opinion. Now I need to put this journal away because the sisters want me to show them how to build their own version of “Traveling Marchand.” I’ve warned them to be careful what they post but they said they’ll start with the first ports and see how it works before deciding whether they’ll record the entire mission.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 169: Jul 1 – Pinhão, Régua

Today has been all about wine, which has been cultivated in the Douro River Valley since ancient Roman times. We got a crash course in the history of making Port during our visit to the Douro Museum, then headed to the hills to a prestigious wine estate, where the older two sisters and a few others in our group sipped Port while savoring marvelous views.

Today’s group was the three sisters as normal, and instead of the four young men we were joined by four others. Not young men but staff that were going to get a rotated day off and in the process the opportunity to join whatever excursion was planned. That means I will always have charge of the sisters, but likely never the same four additions to our group. Not a bad thing as it keeps interactions interesting.

First stop was at the Douro Museum. The Douro Valley is the oldest demarcated wine-growing district in Europe. Demarcated means that it is a special area that only wines from that specific location can be labeled a certain way. The Douro demarcated district is for port wine. Why? What makes Port the wine waht it is? At the museum we learned about the region’s unique geology and winemaking history—Romans planted vines in this region 2,000 years ago—during a special lecture. Exhibits laid out in buildings that were once home to Port winemaker Real Companhia Velha let us see how the process of making Port evolved over the centuries. We saw the tools of the trade and even a rabelo (a boat that carried wine from the vineyards to Porto) on display. An interactive map showed where the quintas are and how the region developed; and by sniffing vials of concentrated fragrance, we received lessons in how to identify the many aromas that a good Port possesses. The group had a good time and even got to sample some regional Douro wine. I bought a bottle for Vit … and one for Polina to give to Yegor … as well as some postcards for my collection.

From there we continued to Quinto do Seixo, a prestigious Port wine estate. On the way there our guide pointed out the unique landscape that has been shaped by wine growers for two millennia. The stone terraces curving around the steep slopes hold soil that is largely the creation of human intervention. People have laboriously broken up the native silver schist stone over the centuries and turned it into usable sandy earth; it’s called “anthroposoil.” The process of producing Port wine is a fascinating blend of tradition and modernity; the steepness of the slopes requires that grape vines be tended almost entirely by hand, but the wine itself is made using the most modern techniques. We toured the state-of-the-art facility and sampled some exceptional Ports in a tasting room whose wall of windows looks out over spectacular views of the Douro Valley.

I made sure to get plenty of pictures of the sisters, individually and as a group, and they chose their favorites that evening after dinner while I attended the nightly security meeting. I heard that while Clarkson made an impression on the families of the four young males from yesterday, it only seemed to encourage worse behavior. They are being confined to ship tomorrow and because they aren’t trusted, Clarkson is going to have to run a security member short to leave someone to sit on them to make sure they stay on the ship. I’m not sure what the next option is going to be but I warned the sisters off being “nice” to them and then took a risk and spoke direct with their parents.

“I don’t want to cause problems but under the circumstances …”

“Of course,” their father said nodding while their mother seemed to be thinking thoughts I’m rather sure I don’t want to know. “Thank you for your concern. We will handle it. And don’t worry, we won’t bring your name into it. We’ll see how being confined to ship works out. Just let us know if there is any behavior issues towards the girls.”

“Yes Sir,” I said, nodded at the diplomat, then left.

I found I have something in common with Gigi. She plays cello and misses it very much. I miss my violin. It was nice to be able to discuss music with someone who understands. She suggested that if I have time that I come join the “Strings Club” once we are back on the Bonhoeffer.

“Strings Club?”

“Sure. You know, there’s enough of us that we can usually make up a quartet or a septet. Mostly we just perform for ourselves but sometimes we get a show on.”

I told her I would think about it and after that they decided to watch a movie since it wouldn’t bother me. For my part I climbed in my bunk to take care of some personal correspondence and this journal entry. I could have easily watched the movie with them, some old thing starring Mikael Baryshnikov, but this friendly togetherness they offer is different from what I am used to. I wonder if this is why I can’t seem to get along with the SOs. Or, if it is the SOs that are making it difficult for me to acclimate to what the sisters are offering. Uh oh. I’m waxing philosophical. Time for lights out.

 

[Kathy in FL]

Chapter 170: Jul 2 - Régua (Lamego), Caldas de Aregos

Our day on shore was somewhat short today but well worth the time it took to get on and off. Lamego, Portugal with a focus on one of Portugal’s top pilgrimage sites, Our Lady of Remedies. The church sits high above the town, accessible via hundreds of zigzagging steps adorned with beautiful blue and white tiles. It is known as “the stairway to heaven.”

A city of 26,000 people, Lamego has a history that dates back to the Romans, similar to the evidence we saw in Salamance and Barca d’Alva. Despite our guide’s tales of Visigoths, Moorish conquests and Spanish reconquests, it is apparent that Lamego’s biggest historical note regards the very founding of the kingdom of Portugal itself. We were told that it was in Lamego in 1139 that Alfonso I was crowned the first King of Portugal. Besides this history, Lamego is very much a part of the wine culture of the area.

There are 686 stairs leading to the most iconic monument of Lamego, the sanctuary of Nossa Senhora dos Remédios, in English Our Lady of Remedies. The climb was well within the ability of six of our party, but I worried about the 7th. He was in his 30s but walked with a cane due to one leg being shorter than the other.

“Don’t worry about me. I may be slower but I’m going to do this,” he said with confidence. The sisters volunteered to hang out with him as he ascended, and I was to find out later that Roberto was a friend of the family as well as staff member onboard the B. What I saw as the day went however on nearly made me choke.

“Jules, you are not trying to set Dolly up with someone that has almost fifteen years on her?!”

Gigi looked at Jules and shrugged. “You explain it to her. I’ll go play chaperone before Roberto’s head catches fire.”

I looked at the elder sister and waited while the rest of the party was taking pictures and resting after the climb. “Look there’s a few things you don’t know.”

“And don’t want to. It’s none of my business but if your parents catch you …”

She snorted. “It’s their dearest dream. Seriously. They would be perfectly okay if they hook up. At least after Dolly finishes her arts program and has a chance to decide for herself.” I was trying to figure out a way to get out of the conversation, but she just kept on. “This is just between us, but Dolly can’t have kids. And neither can Roberto. Dolly was born that way – Mother was prescribed something called DES for severe nausea when she was pregnant with Dolly and Dolly was born with DES Syndrome. Roberto can’t have kids either because of a childhood accident. They are both functional, just their plumbing …”

“T … M … I …,” I choked looking around frantically to make sure no one was listening.

“Don’t be a prude. Facts of life and all that. And you see how Dolly is; she’s going to need someone to watch over her for a long time, why not a husband type someone that would love and cherish her and all of that other romantic nonsense she believes in. And yes, I’m positive about how the parental units feel. Father mentioned it one time at the dinner table. At first I thought Mother was going to blow, then she got a thoughtful look on her face and told Father it was up to him, that she wasn’t against it. She blames herself for Dolly and our brother; she relies on Father a lot to keep things real and balanced where us kids are concerned. And yeah, Roberto knows the sitch as well. I think Father said something to him along the way but he’s no pedo and won’t touch Dolly with a ten-foot pole until she ages up a bit. Gigi and I decided to do our part. There’s nothing wrong with making sure there’s a friendship between the two of them to see if it is even possible for something more to happen. We all just want the best for Dolly and Roberto could be it. And Father and Mother are fond of Roberto too. He’s a great guy. Loves the arts. He could be the total package … at least for Dolly. He’s a bit heavy-handed in the protection department for Gigi and I so we aren’t attracted to him that way and told Father so. He’s only brother material to us.”

“Uh … I really don’t think …”

“Don’t sweat it. I know our family is uber old-fashioned about that sort of thing. Father has never made a secret out of his preference for arranged marriages. I think he just doesn’t want to see the disaster his and Mother’s first marriage was repeated. Just didn’t want you to think that Roberto was like the Four Stooges.”

I looked at her more closely. “So you aren’t quite as oblivious as your parents think.”

“Nope. But those guys aren’t my type. At all. As in gag me. Gigi thinks that one of them might clean up good but neither one of us wants to have to work that hard on a guy if he isn’t ready to grow up and get an independent life. We aren’t looking to hook up this early anyway. It’s all just what you’ve been calling diplomacy. Mother … and Father too in his own way … have a hard enough job with all this Peace Mission mumbo jumbo. None of us want to make their jobs harder. So we play along and sometimes it is just better to pretend obliviousness than have to be rude and create a situation.”

Whew. More TMI I don’t need at this point, but it certainly gave me insight into what made the three of them tick. She laughed good naturedly and said she’d keep things less x-rated in the future. Good heavens I hope so. I have enough concerns with my own sex life lately, I don’t want to hear about other people’s.

Back to the tour. On the way up the stairs we saw painted tiles, fountains, chapels, and obelisks until we arrived at the Rococo and Baroque style sanctuary on the top of Monte de Santo Estêvão. After looking around, instead of a reverse journey, we took a coach back down to visit some other sites.

At Castelo do Lamego we were given an education on the Moorish-Catholic wars via the interactive exhibits inside. I had to translate as the English signs were down for renovation. The view from the top of the castle alone was worth the climb so it wasn’t a completely dry educational stop.

And then there was, what else, a wine tasting. This time it was of the famous Raposeira wine. Spain has cava, Italy has Prosecco, and France has Champagne. Portugal has a more than acceptable white, sparkling wine known as Raposeira. There was a satisfying “pop” as our guide opened a bottle for our group to share. The glass had full, thick bubbles and the taste was fresh, dry and appley. I still prefer my reds but this was nothing to sneeze at. What was nice is that some sparkling wines can come off cheap with an over-oaky taste that makes you think of hangover as soon as you take a sip, or so claimed one of my former roommates. My palate isn’t that refined. I know what I like but I’m not going to bust on someone just because they like something different. The Raposeira was nice and I purchased a couple of bottles. I need to be careful. They are in a box at the end of my bunk and it’s going to be a challenge to cart them back to the B unbroken.

It was a fast scramble back to the ship and then I played duenna to the sisters as they sat on the top deck watching the serene Douro, the third-longest river on the Iberian Peninsula, and its scenery pass by. A scattering of farmhouses and olive and almond groves share the shores with vineyard terraces, along with the occasional chapel that marks places where the river used to be particularly treacherous. The Douro may be tranquil now that dams have tamed it, but in the past many lost their lives transporting wine barrels from the vineyards to Porto, and these riverbank chapels commemorate the dead.

The ship offered some commentary as we passed landmarks and at one part asked us if we noticed that some terraces seemed to have been abandoned. Answering their own question, they explained that those are old terraces whose vines were destroyed by phylloxera, an insect pest common to grape vines worldwide. In the place of these destroyed vineyards are growing olive trees, oleanders and other greenery.

For me dinner that night was an impromptu security meeting. Our previously scheduled one had been cancelled because Clarkson was dealing with an incident report. It seems that one of the “four stooges” took a swing at Lipson. He only got air but another took the opportunity to trip him during the same altercation and Lipson cracked his head hard enough on a cabin doorframe that he needed a stitch to stop the bleeding and seal the wound. Tomorrow two of the stooges are going to be removed from the riverboat … and will not be returning to the B. Both are being turned over to authorities … I didn’t ask which authority … and their punishment is to be determined. The other two … let’s just say the odor of burnt tail feathers is strong if you get near them. They are on a short leash from now until their parents disembark which should be in about a month. Their brothers, both military personnel on short assignment, are mortified and threatening dire repercussions if the younger men even blink wrong.

Not my monkeys, not my circus, and I’m glad that it is so. I have enough to deal with from the sisters who now act like I am part of their club and need to be in on all the TMI they have to offer. Jules thinks its funny when I try really, really hard to politely not participate.

And speaking of not participating, it is time for lights out. Short stop in port tomorrow with a lot of time spent on the ship. I’m not sure what that is going to mean for me, but I suspect I will be entertaining the sisters and running interference to keep the “influencer” crowd out of everyone’s hair.