Morocco Malta and The Med: Marseilles and Cassis and Calanques
It is very early morning as we approach Marseilles, so early the sun has not begun to rise. The infamous Chateau d’If, made famous in Dumas’ Count of Monte Cristo looms in the semi-darkness.
We quickly eat breakfast; we are on one of the first tours out today, to Cassis and the famous calanques. What are calanques, you might ask? Here is what the Marseille Tourism board has to say:
What are the Calanques?
A Calanque is a unique kind of geological formation made of limestone. They are big rocky coves forming a steep and narrow valley inland and are mostly found around the Mediterranean sea. Here, the Calanques National Park is a protected and highly regulated area, stretching over 20 km from Marseille to Cassis, with 26 Calanques of various sizes (25 in Marseille and 1 in Cassis). Some are easily accessible and others are a lot less, but regardless, the Calanques are an absolute must-see when you visit Marseille!
I have always loved smaller villages, especially fishing villages, having grown up in one. And it will be Sunday in Marseille, not a great day for a Marseille tour as many of the roads are closed to traffic this Sunday, only open to bicyclists and pedestrians. Great day to get out of town.
The daily question becomes what to wear? What to carry? It is cold in the mornings, but will likely warm up. We will be going out on a small boat. How small? How windy will it be? Will we have any protection? What do YOU think?
I chose a dress that is like a sweatshirt, only with a full length zipper and it has a hood. I carried a scarf as well, and a hat in a go-bag. On the boat, it was indeed cold, and windy, and I put up my hood and tied it tightly so only a small portion of my face was exposed. I suppose I looked like one of those TeleTubbies, but I was not cold.
Sights en route to Cassis:
At the beach in Cassis: “In the town, I wear clothes.” LOL it is forbidden to walk around nude or in a bathing suit.
We have time to roam while we wait for our boat ride, and the fishing boats are in with their haul. Locals (they have bags with them, too) are seeking out the freshest fish for today’s Sunday meal.
We find a table at a corner cafe where we can have a coffee and watch the world go by. A group of four elegant elderly French women settle in front of us, with great red lipstick.
One of the nicest things happened here. Another couple women from our ship settled in next to us; they had been shopping and found some great things. What I loved was the bag from the shop, and when I asked how to get there she laughed and emptied her bag and gave it to me saying she didn’t care about the bag. I love the bag!
The boat ride begins. I can’t believe how many people they got on one small boat – maybe forty people!
We saw people on beaches in swimsuits, and people swimming in the cold water! I am hardy, but this is Mid-November! I am wearing a sweatshirt dress! And my legs are cold!
A very old aqueduct / bridge:
On our way back to Marseille.
The Christmas Market opening down by the port.
Cathedrale La Major: “Huge 1800s neo-Byzantine cathedral featuring an opulent interior lined with murals, mosaic & marble.” (Google Maps)
Viking Saturn is parked right next to the Cathedral La Major.
Our view from our cabin:
Morocco Malta and the Med: Barcelona Farewell as We Board Viking Saturn
Today, we board the Viking Saturn. We have to have our bags in the hallway to go to the ship by 0700, and we have to check in with the Viking organizers to get our bus assignment. First, we have to have breakfast, us and all the other Viking passengers gathered in the hotel. There are long lines and few tables for two, so we are put together with six others at a large table, and it is fine. We discover something in common – we are all excited by the itinerary.
At this point, I want to tell you something odd. Or maybe not so much. We are just a week away from one of the most contentious elections in American history, the victor claiming a mandate with a tiny margin over his opponent, and in all my little chats with fellow passengers, it never comes up. Never. And the entire trip, 23 days, it never came up. For a year, we’ve been talking about the election. Now, nothing. Not a word. And no, I’m not about to bring it up, I just find it weird.
I needed my camera, and there were so many people waiting for the elevators, I decided to walk down. About ten stories down I thought maybe I should try the elevator, but the key card only unlocks to door to the floor your room is on, and I still have another ten plus stories to go. Oh well. I walk the entire way, find my camera, and take the view above, with the sun rising over Barcelona. Later, I pay dearly for the 23 story downstairs hike becoming acquainted with muscles I didn’t know I had.
Our bus assignment is one of the later ones to leave; they time these things so as not to overcrowd any one location with too many Viking guests. We don’t mind; our bus is only half loaded and very comfortable. As we leave, there is another motorcycle car accident outside our hotel, with all the police and emergency people.
Our first stop is at the Arc de Triomf built for the Barcelona World Fair in 1888. The Fair took place to bring some revenue into Barcelona during a desperate time but also gave the city an opportunity – and excuse – to demolish the Citadel and replace it with much-needed green spaces for Barcelona’s citizens.
I love this building, designed in the Modernisme style by Liuis Domenech i Montaner. Here is what Wikipedia tells us about him:
His buildings displayed a mixture between rationalism and fabulous ornamentation inspired by Spanish-Arabic architecture, and followed the curvilinear design typical of Art Nouveau. In the El castell dels 3 dragons restaurant in Barcelona (built for the World’s Fair in 1888), which was for many years the Zoological Museum, he applied very advanced solutions (a visible iron structure and ceramics). He later developed this style further in other buildings, such as the Palau de la Música Catalana in Barcelona (1908), where he made extensive use of mosaic, ceramics and stained glass, the Hospital de Sant Pau in Barcelona, and the Institut Pere Mata in Reus.
This is the Castle of Three Dragons!
I remember Spain used to be a country where we needed to dress modestly. It is mid-November and we are wearing long sleeves and sweaters. These lovely fitness seekers must be cold!
Parakeets!
Port of Barcelona
The highlight of the bus tour – an hour at the National Museum of Art of Catalunya. If you had your passport or something proving you were over 65, you got free entrance to the special exhibits. I had a copy of my passport page and AdventureMan’s passport page. I told the cashier we were OLD and she laughed and gave us tickets to the special exhibit I wanted to see with very early church art preserved in this museum.
I hope you find these as breathtaking as I do!
Don’t you love how little Jesus is crouched on Mary’s lap?
Our ticket also allowed us access to the Museum roof, with 360 degree views of Barcelona.
A last view of what we learned was once a bull fighting arena, which has been transformed into a Mall.
So now we are delivered to the ship, and we are starving. We quickly embark, drop our gear and head for the World Cafe, where we can find something to eat. Dan Noodles for me, with Chinese shrimp. Yummm.
This is our view, and this is our cabin.
Lots of storage space
Sail Away from Barcelona.
Dinner as we sail away
Morocco Malta and the Med, Day 2, A Nightime Adventure
Fresh from our nap and not sure where we want to eat, we head out to accomplish a small errand. I have discovered I have lost my hairbrush. This is an emergency. Brushing hair is a must do! AdventureMan is sure I have misplaced it, so I look again, and it is nowhere to be found. But how hard can it be to buy a hairbrush?
Harder than we thought. We pop into a couple grocery stores, where they have everything, everything except hair brushes. We head into the side streets, where I find a hair salon and go in to buy a hairbrush. This turned into a real comedy. They couldn’t understand me, so I spoke French, and they got the brush part they were very concerned. I finally figured out they had no appointments for me, they thought I wanted my hair brushed. I kept trying to explain. AdventureMan left to see if he could find anything, but came back and we were still trying to figure it out. Finally, they understood I wanted to buy a brush, but they didn’t have any for sale. They were so kind, and by the time we finished, the entire shop was engaged in trying to help me.
“China! China” and they pointed to the right, and then to the left. “China!”
We never found the China shop, but AdventureMan found a Pakastini shop that carried a little of everything and spoke Arabic; he just reached behind him, pulled out a brush and it was great. First problem solved.
Now, where to eat? We are not out on the main street, but these back streets are intriguing. Like this is where real people are living, buying groceries (and hairbrushes) and there are restaurants, not fancy, but we walk until AdventureMan finds one he wants to try.
We go in and find a table and ask for menus, and a table of guys drinking next to us starts raising a ruckus and looking at us. It’s hard to be a stranger.
The manager or bartender admonishes them lightly and takes our order.
I am thinking it might not be the right time to be eating, maybe it is only time for drinking and maybe little tapas until dinner time, which in Spain is a lot later. But we order, and everything seems OK.
AdventureMan orders a Fisherman’s Soup, and I order a different kind of soup, and we share a plate of grilled peppers. The soups are some of the best food we had on the trip.
I ended up with a soup that was white beans and some kind of pork, hammy pork, and vegetables. The broth was flavorful, probably had more salt than we normally use, so it was delicious. AdventureMan’s soup took the prize, though. Full of fish and shellfish, with a broth that could almost stand up, it was so strong.
If we hadn’t gone off the main road looking for a hairbrush, we would never have ended up in this little neighborhood pub place with its delicious soups!
It’s a risk. We went against conventional wisdom. The streets were darker, and smaller, and might not have been so safe – Barcelona IS a big city. The walk back to the hotel was a little bit scary, but nothing happened, and we had a small adventure and a really good local meal. As we passed the hair salon, they were still open, so I waved my hairbrush in victory, and the hairdresser came out and hugged me in joy and said something (I have no idea what,) but she was joyful with me. I call that a great adventure.
Morocco Malta and the Med: Day 2 Barcelona and Monserrat
Traveling with Viking passengers is to see ourselves in others. After a good nights sleep, we are up at dawn to have breakfast before our guide, James will arrive to pick us up at 8:15 to get us to Monserrat and in to see the Black Virgin before the crowds.
Too late. When we get to the restaurant, there is already a line of Viking early-birds in front of us. Fortunately, it is a large restaurant, and we all get seated quickly. The buffet breakfast is lovely, all kinds of cereals, breads and condiments, fresh egg dishes, lots of breakfast meats. It seems to be there is something to make everyone happy.
The restaurant is on the top floor and has views to die for in every direction. I’ve been trying to get to the roof deck and pool, but it seems it can only be accessed through the restaurant, and only during certain times. I kept trying. I never made it. It may be because it is mid-November and most people aren’t looking for a pool.
We booked with Autos Driver through Viator. Our driver and guide, James, showed up promptly at 8:10 (we were ready) in a suit with a slick shiny new Mercedes. We were impressed. He explained what we were seeing as we exited Barcelona to head for the serrated mountains (the meaning of the name Monserrat), and made it all relatable by putting it all in context. We really liked James. The statue below is in the industrial area.
Looking back toward Barcelona and the sun rising through the haze.
You can see why it is called “serrated mountains.”
We stopped for a stretch break at Santa Cecilia, a former nunnery, now an event venue.
On the left is James, who made this day so special for us, telling us the inside stories of Barcelona.
Our first view of Monserrat is of St. Michael’s Cross:
Tickets have to be reserved, and are for certain times only. James was looking out for us, contacted us ahead of time, picked up the tickets and had us to the line with plenty of time. He showed us where to meet with him after the tour of the Church and the Black Virgin.
It’s November. We had thought it would not be too crowded early in the morning, but it was full of Japanese tour groups, mostly school groups. We wedged between two groups as we waited to see the Black Virgin.
At last, one at a time, we are allowed about 10 seconds with the Black Virgin. The legend is that this Madonna and Child was carved in the earliest days of Christianity. Said to have been moved to Monserrat (home to the Goddess Venus) in the 700s to avoid Moorish explorers, she was found underground and was to be transported to some church but was not able to be moved, so they built a monastery around her.
You can see an orb in the Virgin’s hand. One at a time each Japanese school girl put both hands on the orb and looked solemn while one of the teachers (?) chaperones (?) guides (?) took a photo of her.
We had enough time to walk part way to Saint Michael’s Cross:
AdventureMan wanted to have some good cheese to have on board so we could have wine and cheese before dinner, and he found a really good one! We enjoyed this cheese so much, dry, nutty, salty, kind of grainy, and delicious!
We met up with James, had a great drive back to Barcelona as he answered all our questions, we talked ecology, climate change, cultural differences and economics. We talked about the impact of COVID-19 on our countries and social practices. Before he let us out in downtown Barcelona, he gave us directions to the oldest chocolate shop in Barcelona, not far off Las Ramblas, but far enough that not a lot of tourists get there.
Love these old signs on Las Ramblas.
Last time we were in Barcelona, we had grabbed empanadas at the Boqueria, along with fruit drinks, and AdventureMan wanted a particular spicy beef empanada we had the last time. We darted up and down the aisles until we found the exact shop, and both bought spicy beef enpanadas, and fruit drinks, then found a place to sit at the little plaza behine the Boqueria to eat in peace, except for the pigeons.
We ate lightly so that we could have hot chocolate at the oldest chocolate shop in Barcelona, very close to the Boqueria. The name is La Granja, and it is a couple streets behind La Rambla and the Boqueria.
It was delicious and fun. When we got there, they wanted to make sure we knew they were closing for the mid-day break. We assured them we only wanted chocolate, and creme brulee, and they welcomed us. We loved the place, with customers coming in for cut meats and other kinds of delicacies, we don’t really know what because we don’t speak Spanish except for a few words. It didn’t matter. The chocolate was thick and smooth and like eating a little bit of heaven, if heaven to you is chocolate, thick dark chocolate, as it is to me. The creme brulee’ is to be tapped with the spoon to break the crust before you eat.
On a total sugar high, we head out to find the metro and head back to the hotel for a nap. The metro takes us half a block from our hotel – why don’t all cities have great public transportation like Paris and Barcelona?
We are ready for a nap 😊.
Morocco Malta and the Med: Our First Lucky Day
Everything had gone so smoothly. All our preparations, packing, the taxi driver lined up. And then, just before we are to leave home, a text from Air France, cancelling our flight with them and putting us on a Delta flight. Not a tragedy, but a disappointment; we always try to book Air France because their service is so welcoming, the food is delightful, and we just feel like the vacation starts as soon as we step aboard. So we know we will have to deal with it when we get to the airport.
We are checking in, and explain to the Delta check-in lady that we had the text, which had not yet shown up on her machine. She started poking around, and said “Mind if I make a phone call?” and we said “no, go ahead” and she talked with someone somewhere and looked at us and said “How would you like to fly directly from Atlanta to Barcelona?”
“YES!” we chimed together! We had wanted that direct flight, but Viking Air had said it was not possible. With just a few flicks of her fingers on the keys, it was entirely possible. Wow! We were blown away. We would get in several hours earlier than we had thought; more time in Barcelona!
What we didn’t know at the time was that we would not be sitting together, but it didn’t matter. We had a great flight, got some sleep and landed hours early in Barcelona.
For some reason, the bags took forever to get from the plane to the baggage delivery, like a full hour. We picked up my bag (AdventureMan did his entire trip out of his carry-on and backpack) and headed out to meet up with the Viking transport.
Two people with clipboards looked for our names – and we were not there! Finally a third person said “Oh! I’ve been looking for you; you are on our bus and we are leaving now!” so we went with a very small group to the bus. It was a small bus, filled mostly with elderly passengers with mobility issues, and us. We got to the Nobu hotel very quickly, and checked in.
“We’ve given you a very large room,” the porter said, and it was. We had a large sleeping area, a separate sunny sitting room, a dressing room/office, and a generous bathroom. It felt very spacious.
We settled in, took a brief rest, then headed out to get to know our neighborhood. AdventureMan had spotted a circular something, a mall, on the map near the Plaza d’Espana and wanted to go see what it was. I was actually not enthusiastic, but once we got walking I perked up and was glad for the exercise and the fresh air.
This was the circular “thing” on the map, and it was a mall, it had an elevator to the top, and we later learned that it was once a bullfighting arena, turned into a mall after years of neglect. They really did a great job; this was a fun place to explore.
We never felt unsafe on this trip. In Barcelona, police and emergency people were everywhere. This was a car and motorcycle collision, and they were there within minutes.
This is the arena / mall, and the round thing is the elevator to the top floor. As we were digging for change to pay for the trip we spotted a sign that said something like over 65 is free. There was a couple in front of us (I think also American) who were trying to insist on paying, so she just waived us through and continued trying to explain to them that they could go for free while we went straight to the top.
Inside the mall, things were happening. There were all kinds of stores you would find very familiar – American food chains and coffee shops. The place was packed with young people having something quick and fried at the end of the day. These kids were playing some kind of game where you step on clouds that form and reform in some kind of computer-generated way.
At the top, you could walk entirely around the whole arena, viewing the whole city. In the center of the circle were all kinds of restaurants. First, we had a great view of the Plaza d’Espana.
Just behind the very tall blue building in the center is the Nobu Hotel. To the left, off the busy main street, are quiet, bustling side streets we also got to explore.
Sagrada Familia is continuously under construction. Every time we visit, the date for completion has slipped further into the future.
I love seeing how people live. Imagine having this penthouse apartment with this little lap pool high above the city.
What tourism people will tell you is that Mount Tibidabo is an amusement park, but I can’t wait to get back to Barcelona and to visit this place – the tower on the right is part of the early Barcelona water system, and is supposed to be elegantly beautiful as well as functional. Guides in the area tell us that the church can be visited for free, and the art inside is stunningly beautiful, and the views from the top of the church – yes, you can go up there – encompass all of Barcelona, and too, are stunning. Worth a trip. (So many good reasons to visit Barcelona.)
We walked right by this park going to the arena and returning to our hotel, a park with installations by Miro’!
This is what the walking path on the top of the arena looks like, and on our right is the top of the elevator from base to top. To the left you see a couple of the restaurants – there are many – at the top.
So it’s 4:30 in the afternoon and we are starving and tired. While normally we shun touristic places, tonight we are ready for any port in the storm. We find A BrassaMe (I haven’t a clue what that means) which is open and already serving people, and they welcome us inside. And they have wine, and a view of the setting sun.
We are surprised most of the customers are Spanish and maybe local. Our waiter is very kind. We ask him to help us with choosing a good wine. We know we want to try some of the common tapas – bread with tomato, patatas bravas, I want to try fidua, a noodly disk kind of like paella, and he suggests a couple others, one a “bombe” (a potato filled with highly spiced ground meat) and something which we cannot identify but we think might be a deep fried fish of some kind. Doesn’t matter. It was a lot of fun, we ordered way too much food and it didn’t cost near what we pay in Pensacola for far less.
Bear with me, interiors interest me. I love the way this restaurant has capitalized on the view and the sunset. I love the sort of Miro-esque pipes in the ceiling.
I like the quiet elegant seclusion of this private dining room.
I love this bathroom. In modest, modern Spain, none of this silliness about bathrooms. Adults share the same room, doors are marked sort of ambiguously and people use whichever is free. How very grown up.
Our waiter is from Argentina, came here to find work and loves his life in Barcelona.
This is found everywhere – bread with tomato. He tells us that everything has to go on in a particular order.
This was the delicious spicy bombe.
These are another Spanish favorite, Patatas Bravas, kind of deep fried potatoes with tomato sauce or garlic sauce.
We’re pretty sure this was fish. Have you noticed how much food there is? We thought tapas were SMALL plates. We never saw a small plate of tapas in Spain.
I really liked this – Fidua. It’s kind of like rice-a-roni, little thin noodles cooked in a seafood broth, so tasty and delicious.
l love sunsets and sunrises and am more than a little uneasy about the sulphuric haze we found in most Mediterranean seaports.
Well-fed and well-wined, we rolled our way back to the hotel and managed showers before we fell, exhausted, into bed after a day full of good surprises. We slept straight through to morning.
Morocco, Malta and the Mediterranean: Another Great Adventure
We thought we were done with cruising (this happens a lot) when suddenly this trip popped up on Viking’s new itineraries. We waited only two days, and called to reserve. The cabin area we want was already almost sold out! We got the last cabin, not the normal cabin we reserve, and felt lucky to get it. I checked the cabin catagories; the ship was almost entirely sold out.
Algiers. Malta. Ajaccio. Places we had never been before. It got our hearts racing.
We tried something new; for Barcelona, we booked a tour through Viator to visit the hillside Monastery of Monserrat. For Tunis, where we lived so many years ago, we booked through Tours for Locals, so that we could have a personalized visit to see things that mattered to us. We paid in advance – like more than a year in advance.
We are cautious with our money, so this was a little scary for us. Booking private tours in expensive. Between booking and implementing, a lot can happen. And what if the guides don’t show up??? What is your fallback? By faith, we bit that bullet and it worked out great for us.
It was also a long trip with 23 days total and various climates, so I did not believe I could do it with a carry-on. I used a bigger suitcase, again, by faith, and checked it. We never had a problem, and I was thankful to have a variety of clothing appropriate to the cultures and climate.
This trip took place from mid-November to early December. Today, AdventureMan asked me how I wanted to spend the weekend, and I said “I want to write up the trip for the blog.” In between getting home and now, I had to get Christmas decorations up, bake Christmas dishes, do Christmas Eve dinner, Christmas Day brunch, deal with having norovirus (me, just before Christmas), deal with AdventureMan having norovirus (shortly after Christmas, and with AdventureMan getting a papercut that turned into a severe infection with heavy duty antibiotics. Take Christmas down. Oh, and jury duty. And welcome the New Year with friends.
We are just now getting back to normal. At the end of this month, we start a major bath reconstruction that will disrupt us for six to eight weeks. Now is the time 😊.
Saying Goodbye to Al Marai Coffee Cups
All my nomadic life, I have had to sift, sort and weigh the value of my belongings – literally. As an Army wife and later a corporate wife, I had a weight allowance as we moved from country to country. My life was full of leaving things behind – friends, churches, social groups, jobs, my identity – as well as belongings.
Unlikely items made the cut. In 2003, when we moved to Doha, Qatar, I discovered a nearby store, the LuLu (which means lovely large pearl), where a gallon of Al Rifai milk came with a free coffee cup sturdily taped to it. I was delighted. I’ve always believed good design does not necessarily correlate with price – and these cups were a perfect size and had these wonderful scenes from Doha life, where there was a dhow harbor in the center of town, dhows in the harbor, and camel races with human riders on Saturdays. Look! The dhow coffee cup even has a wind tower in the background.
So yesterday, Christmas Day, as I opened two beautiful new coffee cups, one from Giverney and one from Barcelona, my husband looked at me sorrowfully, and approached the subject gently.
“It’s time we give up the Doha coffee cups,” he said.
“They have served us well. They are over 20 years old. They were free, probably made in China from materials we don’t even want to think about. I use them all the time, and even as I do, I wonder what might be leaching into my drink.”
I know he is right. There is no marking of any kind to indicate origin. After all these years, marks are appearing where we have stirred for twenty years. And yet – these cups have served me loyally. They are still bright and unmarred. I love their memorialization of a slower time in Doha. And I have options.
At Christmas breakfast, I have the cups out on display and offer them to my son. He is a discerning collector of first editions by selected authors, first edition Legos from the space exploration collections, edged weapons, and selected items that catch his attention. He also knows how to buy and sell on the Internet when he wants to refine his collections.
He expresses interest but does not take them with him. Their departure, however, is Christmas Day chaotic – bags full of presents, the food divided to be used for quick meals in the coming week (even our grandchildren contributed to our Christmas Eve dinner, my grandson a crab dip and my granddaughter a wreath made of crescent roll wrapped little smokies. My son, who was never interested in cooking, astonished us with a baked Brie!) and last-minute check-ins on upcoming family plans.
I am a patient woman. I know those cups deserve to find new appreciation in a new home. I believe my son will get involved but if not, I have other options.
Update: This is what it is like to be me. It is not that I am getting older, it is that I will tell you things I believe to be true, and they are close, but not the same.
My friend Yusuf, below, said he thought it must be Al Marai, and that sounded familiar. AdventureMan said maybe really we should keep the cups, and as he handled them, He found Al Marai logos on the cups. Not just one. Two on each cup.
In our family, we are all very very sure we are right. When we are not right, we are required to humbly state it. I was wrong, so very very wrong; the cups were labeled, Al Marai, not Al Rifai, and YOU, Yusef and AdventureMan, were RIGHT.
And we are keeping the cups!
International Cooperation: How to
I came across this article by accident, and it communicates how I believe we can make this world a better, safer place – by rubbing shoulders with “the other.”
I spent many years living in Germany and a variety of countries in the Middle East. It was always, initially, very uncomfortable. Slowly, in each country, I met people who were kind to me. At first, I would hear their strange languages as harsh, even hostile. As I rubbed shoulders with them, I came to learn that we had important things in common. Most of my friends were religious, just not the same religious expression as mine. Most loved their families and wanted the best for their children. Some were as suspicious of me as I was of them, and as time passed, surprising thngs happened – we became friends.
This article confirms my own belief – working together, spending time together, diminishes fears and hostilities.
80th Flying Training Wing at SAFB celebrates ENJJPT graduation
KFDX Wichita FallsTYSHIN DAWSON
October 18, 2024 at 9:05 PM
WICHITA FALLS (KFDX/KJTL) — It’s a program unlike any other in the world, where students from the U.S. and 14 NATO countries train side by side to become the best pilots in the skies.
The Euro-NATO Joint Jet Pilot Training Program is one of a kind, and here is why.
“We like to focus on how do we break down that communication barrier, with other nations, how they interact with us, as well as build out those relationships with each other, to kind of further our combat capabilities, around the world, as well as fostering those relations so we can work with them more clearly.”
ENJJPT Wing Commander Jeff Shulman said with so much going on overseas; this program is especially important.
“For some of these nations, we are the sole source and production of their fighter pilots, so if I do not produce quality fighter pilots on time for that nation, they do not have a combat air force, including right now is doing a lot of things in Europe. And he’s right in their backyard. So for them, right, it’s a strategic imperative that my program produces quality fighter pilots on time for the need of minds,” Shulman said.
As you can imagine, these pilot graduates are put through a very rigorous process. They take about a year of training, which involves 12-hour days, 5-6 days a week. These are some of the top academic graduates in the world.
ENJJPT Graduate 1st Lt. Giles Beebe talked about his experience in the program.
“I think, and just has kind of some advantages that a lot of pilot training is doing. Mainly international, working with people from different nations. I think that’s huge for multiple reasons, and really, we have, like, instructors that are worth their weight in gold here,” Beebe said.
His parents praised the mentorship aspect of the ENJJPT Program.
“We could see as our son was going through that, the journey, how incredible the program is in terms of all that mentoring and leadership that’s embedded throughout even before this. It’s really, really quite a program.”
When the call of duty rings, we can proudly say that the aviators who are walking out of this program will be more than prepared to hold the line.
18 Years as Intlxpatr
18 years as Intlxpatr, and who knew I’d still be blogging? I remember the combination of terror and excitement with which I began – and the kindness of the bloggers in Kuwait who welcomed me in, and what great discussions we had. Mostly I remember how much I learned from those early years. I had begun thinking there were things I wanted to remember; I had no idea I would be learning so much, and changing my own perspectives in response. For that, I thank God for giving me the courage to start, and the commitment to persevere.
I’m not the same person now as when I started. What I love is that I am surrounded by people within 20 years on either side of my age who are also changing, evolving, thinking about the bigger things and focusing, too, on the greatness of the small things.
One of the big changes in my life came with being diagnosed with diabetes ten years ago, losing, over the course of ten years, forty pounds and finding again how much I enjoyed swimming. I was once a competitive swimmer; I quit at 16, I just didn’t like being so focused on winning. It spoiled swimming for me. Now, I can’t wait; I get in the pool and just chug along until I’ve done two miles, three days a week. On the days I am not swimming, I miss swimming!
My blood sugar and A1C are NORMAL! I feel twenty years younger!
So today I welcome you in for some healthy and delicious snacks. (Yes! Chocolate is healthy!) All good things in moderation.
My healthy favorite, a blueberry smoothie!
Not boring fruit! Exciting presentation.
Charcuterie!
Veggies for the strong and courageous!
Oranges!
Small amounts of something delicious – you get to choose!
Chocolate to top us off, good healthy chocolate.
I appreciate your stopping my to help me celebrate. Thank you for your support these many years.
A Bientôt Paris!
We have a family joke – I have an alarm on my phone; I find it very gentle, it is called “Twinkle” and sounds like little stars coming out. That’s how it sounds to me. I use it all the time, and my husband will yell “Time to hustle the bags out to the car!” He hates Twinkle, it reminds him of all our very early morning scrambles to get to the airport, turn in our rental car, lug our baggage to check-in, and all that jazz.
We have an early flight, so when we hear Twinkle, we are up and ready. Our bags are packed. We might wait for a baggage person, but it is 4:45 a.m and our car is due at 5:00 so we take our own bags down (I am proud; I have lived this entire trip out of one carry-on suitcase and one personal item/bag.)
We did the right thing. We awakened the baggage person and the desk clerk; I don’t think they would have awakened us or come for our bags. Our car showed up exactly on time (a Mercedes this time, thank you Tauck, but not a Tesla) and we got to the airport in record time.
We got to the airport and went to line up at Air France and a beautiful airport Air France person asked to see our tickets, and said “Oh! You are on our partner, Delta! Not here! I invite you to walk just over there and you can arrange for your flight!”
So French! Not to be directed, not to be told, but to be INVITED to go elsewhere. We loved it.
We checked our bags, full of dirty laundry, who cares if they don’t show up on time? And we headed to the Air France lounge, which evidently IS a part of the partnership, even if we have to check in elsewhere.
The Air France lounge is huge. The buffet is lavish. The drinks are set out and available at oh-dark-hundred in the morning. There are even showers, if I needed another shower.
We boarded on time, but our flight was late leaving because while boarding, one of the passengers tripped and fell and had to be taken to the hospital, which also required his bags be removed, and it all took time. They made up most of the time, we got to Atlanta in time to catch our Pensacola flight and our son was at the airport to transport us home.
You know me. I’m a happy kind of person. I had a great time; this trip was perfect. I wept. I didn’t want it to end, and I didn’t want to leave France.
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