British Isles; White Cliffs, Castles and Canterbury
GROAN! We peek out the window and see the White Cliffs, a thrill, but the day is foggy. Morning came so quickly, and my tour, to Leeds Castle and the Canterbury Cathedral will depart at 8:15. AdventureMan’s tour, Britain at War, departs at 8:30. We quickly dress and go to breakfast; it will be a long day.
The tours board quickly, and mine goes through the countryside, full of rolling green hills and white fluffy sheep. As I talked with the tour guide, I asked if their was still any wool industry in this area, Kent, and she said there were people who grew sheep and sheered them, and and a very small artisanal group who spun and dyed the wool and sold it for a very high price to knitters, but they have a saying that it costs as much to feed a sheep as they get from shearing a sheep.
Leeds Castle is beautiful, and intimate, and informal, and we are the first ones there and have it all to ourselves until the teeming hoards arrive.
It is a very old castle, handed by kings to their beloved wives, used as a country house, and a stop before nearby Dover where people would depart for France.
Later, it was owned by a very wealthy American woman, who restored and renovated the castle several times, then donated it along with money to maintain it, to the government. The Leeds castle is open to the public, has a golf course and other entertainments, including one called Go Ape, which has things like ropes from trees, and maybe a zip line, allowing people to experience ape-like behavior, sounds like a lot of fun.
To get these photos, with no people, I hang back just enough to get a clear shot. It’s not easy, taking photos on the run. We are the first group through, lucky us, but we can see more buses arriving. Below is what it looks like with the tour groups coming through:
We have a chance to walk around (the grounds are gorgeous.)
Then we board the bus. Our next stop was Canterbury, where Viking had arranged an English lunch, bangers and mash, for our lunch in a quiet dining area within the Cathedral walls.
The Cathedral, for me, was beautiful with holy spaces. It has a long history, both as a Catholic cathedral, and then as an Anglican Cathedral, and as the place where Thomas a Becket was brutally murdered by Henry II’s henchmen with swords – in the cathedral, where he had taken sanctuary.
The guide introduced us to the cathedral, then encouraged us to tour, gave us maps, and to find our own sacred spaces. It was a lovely experience.
I love all the stained glass, but especially the one below. It is NOT a dying art! Jesus looks Ethiopian!
We all met up again outside the cathedral to make the walk back to the bus, and the drive back.
Dover Castle with the late afternoon light:
Dinner with our friends this evening at the Chef’s Table, where exquisite small dishes are served in courses. I had thought I was nearly sick; I was so tired, but AdventureMan rubbed my feet (13,897 steps) as we dressed. Conversation, as usual, flowed, and I was revived by the loveliness of the evening and being with our friends. We went to bed delighted with another great day.
In the middle of the night, I looked out and saw a wonderful Autumnal full moon, a little drifty and ghostly.
Morocco Malta and the Med: Algiers!
We are excited. Algiers is one of the reasons we booked this tour, knowing that things can happen, and that for political reasons, or because of weather, it might not really happen. When you travel, you just have to accept that things are not always going to work out.
(On this trip, by the grace of God, every single thing worked out.)
It’s still dark, and we are sailing into the harbor at Algiers. On the hill I see – A Christmas Tree??!! No, as it turns out, this is a memorial to the martys of the war, the Algerian war for freedom from the French.
Algiers is the only port in which I heard the call to prayer. It was hauntingly beautiful. The mosques do not all start at the same time, so there is a kind of cacaphonic beauty from a large number of prayers going up at the same time.
The Hall of Honor is where we process through to get to our buses.
We used to see these “Palm Trees” in Kuwait, really communication towers.
You may be thinking, “Some of the photos here are not the quality we expect!” So, I will explain that I am shooting as fast as I can, surrounded by people I am trying to keep out of my shots, so I can give you an idea of what we are seeing. There is one group after another, all holding up their cameras, getting in one another’s shots. I try to stay ahead or behind, but trust me, the pressure is on. Each group is about twenty-five people, each group with five poorly disguised armed guards, trying to not look like armed guards. They turned out to be really nice guys. Trying to keep American tourists in a line going at a steady pace is a thankless task.
To me it was a little weird that every rectangular plastic basket I saw was purple.
I find some of these construction techniques and electrical wiring workarounds concerning.
We are taken to a hospitality villa, where they serve fresh dates, mint tea from fresh mint leaves, and fresh baked cookies and pastries.
We think our guide is terrific. First, we love that he showed up in old traditional garb (which we learned he had specially made for this very purpose.) He is full of great information, very patient with his flock, and somehow he manages to get us all going in the same direction and is able to keep us somehow together.
I love this photo. The shopkeeper, trying to keep his street clean and orderly; the donkey, picking up garbage on the street impossible for a garbage truck (and with steps!) and our guide in his traditional garb.
I believe this is the shop that made the traditional outfit for our guide.
I am betting this is the fish market.
Now I am pretty sure it is the fish market!
We reboard the ship. We can’t get off again. We are really glad we chose the Casbah walking trip, we feel we got a good feel for that part of town. We never felt hostility, only curiosity, even though a huge crowd of Americans in groups of twenty-five on the narrow, normally quiet pedestrian streets must have been disruptive.
For many of the people who chose this trip, the terrain was challenging. It was stone, sometimes slippery due to sand or moisture. The steps were uneven, the stones rough and irregular. For many, the poverty was distressing, and the dirtiness and disorderlyness made them uncomfortable. I think, too, that it would have been good to let them do a little shopping, good for the tourists and good for the Algerian merchants, but the security concerns were so great that tourists were not given any time to interact with the people or the economy. Too bad. We learned that Algiers will not be included in future Morocco Malta and the Mediterranean trips.
I think, too, maybe it felt familiar to us because the slice of Algiers that we saw was very like Tunisia in the late 1970s, and it was at first a challenge to us, but we learned and adjusted.
Farewell, Algiers!
Morocco Malta and the Med: Not Even a DAY in Rome
Viking Saturn arrives in Civitavecchia, not Rome. It’s a couple hours plus to Rome.
OK, real world stuff here, I am about to do what we call a First World Whine. Meaning in the larger scheme of things, we know how very lucky we are to be able to do these trips. And we are having a ball. And – I think I may be getting old. It feels like there are not quite enough hours in the day. Not to see all we want to see, or to understand all that we see, or take notes on what we see so I can make sense when I share these trips with you.
So today we are “in” Rome, but we are docked in Civitavecchia, a port about two hours drive from Rome. We signed on to a sort of Rome on Your Own kind of thing because we have never been to Rome before, we know what we want to see and do, and we want to do it at our own speed. We’ve signed up for the earliest trip into Rome, and we plan from there to catch a shuttle to the Coliseum, because, well, you go to Rome and see the Coliseum and the Trevi Fountain.
This won’t even be a “day” in Rome, this will be like five hours in Rome, and I am trying not to feel the pressure. Whatever time I have, I want to experience Rome, I want to feel Rome but oh, the pressure is mounting. Aargh.
Our guide is delightful. She hands us a map, and she hands us a card, and tells us where we will need to br to catch the bus for the ride back to the ship. This is the card for the tour company:
Civitavecchia is a pretty cool old city on its own. If I ever have a chance to spend four or five days really seeing Rome, then I would choose the next time I landed in Civitavecchia to just visit Civitavecchia. It’s full of old structures, and it’s been featured in several Dan Brown-type novels where the characters travel impossible distances in impossible times and solve ancient mysteries with intuitive leaps.
So Plaza de Popolo; our first stop so we can catch the shuttle to the Coliseum; we will finish up here at the end of our few hours.
Love Viking signage!
It’s early. And there are already hundreds of people. We take the requisite selfies and skedaddle.
Check!
It’s supposed to be cold in the morning, maybe a little rain, and warm in the afternon. We carry go-bags with the minimum to meet all the requirements, plus water and something chocolate in case of emergencies.
We have several things we want to see – AdventureMan has found the Pantheon on our map, and the place our guide recommended for a lunch were the Romans might eat, and the Trevi fountain, and between the Coliseum and Plaza de Popolo we can see those, and whatever else we see. We just want to soak in a little flavor of Rome, and we can do that by walking, and hitting some of the back streets and lesser-known sights.
Actually, once we shoot those photos with the Coliseum, we start having a good time. There is really nothing we HAVE to do except be at the meeting place at 3:15.
Now comes another small adventure, and another wonderful hairdresser story. We can see the restaurant we want to go to on the map, but no matter how we try, we can’t seem to get there. AdventureMan sees a hair salon, and pops his head in to ask for help. A guy sitting there asks what he is looking for and when AdventureMan tells him the name of the restaurant, he gets a big smile on his face and says “My friend works there! I will take you there!”
AdventureMan had thought he was a customer, but no, he was a hairdresser and was relaxing between customers. He was a very nice man; we talked as we walked to the restaurant, and when we got there, he found his friend, introduced us and told him to take good care of us, that we were his friends.
We loved the place. And we loved the food. And we loved the nice young man who took such good care of us. He looked at me and said “I know you are American, but I think you family is from here.” I said no, we were mostly Swedish, and he laughed and said “You look like you are from here.” And he approved of everything we ordered, and brought us good wine.
These were roasted artichokes, Jewish style, and you could eat the whole thing, even the stem. SO delicious!
I love this baker in the background, with his load of bread, phoning someone to say he is here.
We find the Trevi Fountain, under construction, OK, check. LOL.
We found the river, and walking alongside it was so relatively serene.
AdventureMan has a philosophy that if it isn’t forbidden, it is permitted. He loved this driver’s panache.
We have fifteen minutes before meetup, back at Plaza de Popolo. We’ve had a great day. We grab a couple espressos at a cafe so we can use the restroom before the drive back. AdventureMan discovers he actually likes espresso and says it is a lot like Turkish coffee.
The Christmas markets are just starting to set up, but are not open yet.
My FitBit is confused by the time change; keeps track of steps but not hourly requirement.
This is so frustrating. Back on board, we attend a lecture by Professor David Kohl. It is speculative and also entertaining, but I wish I had heard the lecture BEFORE the Rome visit as he mentions two of the oldest churches in Rome that I would have loved to see.
So the sun is setting over Civitavecchia and we are getting ready once again to sail away.
Paris, Le Train Bleu, and Adieu
We have just enough time when we get back to the Napoleon Hotel to wash up and head right back out again to catch the Metro to Le Gare du Lyon where we have a reservation for lunch at Le Train Bleu. This is where those Navigo Easy Pass cards come in so handy – no stopping to buy tickets, we already have trips loaded on our cards.
We have noticed some changes – look at this metro car – can you see how clean it is? This is not the metro I remember. I never saw a busker, not a singer, not a violin player. The French, except for one snooty shoe saleswoman, were infallibly polite and welcoming. People who waited on us in restaurants, even waiting on people with children, were patient and kind. We wondered if there had been a campaign to train people in preparation for the Olympics?
We don’t like to be late, so we often arrive too early. Never mind, there are always things to look at, and this train station, Le Gare du Lyon, is full of interesting sights and people.
One group of well-dressed, attractive young women were handing people something – religious tracts? bracelets? something for “free” but they also wanted to talk, and we could tell that the talk was about making a donation. We had heard of this technique, but this was the only time we saw it happen. We think maybe the heavy police presence in Paris has deterred a certain amount of begging and scamming, maybe even the pick-pocketing.
AdventureMan is hungry; he checks at Le Train Bleu to see if we can get in a little earlier than our reservation, and the answer is a very gracious “Yes!” We love the location of our table, on the side of the restaurant looking out, but with a good view of the entire (huge) restaurant.
I knew what I wanted – Paté to start, and a salad for my main course. AdventureMan also had the paté and then a fish, with a sauce.
It was a lovely celebratory meal, in a glorious location. Well done, AdventureMan!
We wandered back to the hotel, repacked our bags for the following day, napped a little, and then had another small supper at Chez Barbara’s.
Tauck, MS Sapphire and Versailles
Here is the truth; I have never liked Versailles. My first visit was at 16, and even then, the excess offended me. In my adult years, the excess offended me.
This time, while all the gilt and luxury leaves me underwhelmed and a little depressed that we still live in a world where the rich are utterly stupidly excessive, and the poor struggle just to keep a roof over their head, and that offends me, Tauck provided us with a great guide who had a compelling and engaging narrative and successfully threaded us through the thousands streaming through the palace and gardens.
We were divided into groups, and our group started in the gardens, which turned out to be a lot of fun.
My grandson not only has a good eye for a photo, but also has wonderful long arms:
I love their grins, and I love my grandson’s hand on my husband’s shoulder. In these small things lies an expanse of heaven.
You may not notice this, so I will point it out. I work very hard to get photos without the teeming hordes. Every now and then I will throw in a photo to show you how even though this is not yet the Olympic Games, these gardens are teeming with people. If you look deeply into the above photo, you will see tour groups of 20-50 people in clumps in front of the palace.
And now, we are divided into even smaller groups, and our guide is about to take us through the halls of the palace of Versailles. When I say “take us” I really mean slither us, wind us through the crowds. This woman earned my unrestricted admiration for both her narrative, and her ability to herd us through, and to make it look effortless. I would want her at my side in battle.
Have you ever noticed how life is full of serendipity? I have a new friend, and without her, I would never have known that this exhibit of knights, armor, and horses was part of a special exhibit staged at Versailles. I thought it was just part of the normal exhibits. I came across this information through Dr. B, at Museemusings.com, an art historian who blogs on art, culture, and cross-cultural events in Paris. I was looking for information on La Roche-Guyon and my question took me to her blog and I lost hours reading her observations on current exhibitions and happenings in France.
Looking at these photos, I am astounded that I was able to get these shots so clear of the thousands of people milling around, so I will start including some reality shots. Then you will understand my admiration for the guide who efficiently conveyed information and kept us progressing.
In one of my first classes my freshman year in college I had a professor who said “If you remember one thing from a class you take here, your education is a success.” LOL, I can’t remember his name or the class, but I remember what he said.
Here is the one thing I remember from this trip to Versailles. Louis XIV loved to dance, and he loved high heels, and he wore red shoes all the time, and forbade non-royalty to wear heels.
The only reason there appears to be space on the right side of the Hall of Mirrors (below) is because it is roped off; there are so many people you can’t see the ropes.
The day is hot, not as hot as some, but hot inside because of the mass of humanity streaming through the halls. Thank goodness for the cool breezes wafting in through the open doors.
Can you spot the secret door through which Marie Antoinette unsuccessfully escaped?d
I remember one more thing – beds were short because it was believed lying flat made you likelier to die while sleeping, so the kings and queens slept sitting up in very short beds.
I successfully cropped out the hand and body of the woman who kept thrusting her camera in front of mine, and taking selfies.
Our guide took us through a “secret” underground passage to the outside, where we could breathe again.
I actually enjoyed this day in Versailles.
Berlin: Too Little Time!
We slept well, except for that wide-awake part around 1:30 a.m., but we got back to sleep and then nearly died trying to get up at 7:00 a.m. for a 7:30 breakfast and our morning tour of Berlin. We were so tempted to just skip it, but we didn’t. I know you will ask, looking at these photos, weren’t you cold?
We weren’t! We have lovely heavy coats we bought in Germany years ago, and layers of clothing underneath that keep us warm and toasty, even when lost in a snowy park.
Lovely breakfast buffet, lots of healthy options, only a little skimpy on the coffee. It is cold and snowing, but we are dressed for it, and not having any problems.
We have been assigned to the purple bus, which will depart at 0800 and we have been told we must be ready to board at 8. The grey bus will board at 8:30. Gathering in the hotel reception was a lot of fun; the Grand Hyatt has decorators who will transform the hotel into a Christmas wonderland. We got to watch the beginning of the huge poinsettia tree.
Our purple bus left at 8:30, with our guide, Peter, who turned out to be superb. He was knowledgeable and objective, and when he was giving an opinion, he was quick to identify it as opinion, personal experience, or anecdotal information. We started with a drive to the Reichstag and Brandenburg gate, where we had time for a walk and photos.
(Some of these photos are less than clear – I had a real problem focusing the camera when it was snowing. The camera didn’t know where to focus. Many of my best photos were taken with the humble iPhone rather than the usually reliable camera.)
(Above is the Reichstag, which we visited later in the day to climb to the top and peer down into the legislative chambers where elected officials are conducting state business. Below is Brandenburg Gate)
We toured the Kufurstendam, and Checkpoint Charlie, and had a thorough drive through the neighborhoods of the former West Berlin, before returning to our starting point and heading into the former Eastern Zone. Peter outlined the post WWII history of Berlin, the building of the wall, and the fall of the Wall. He has personally met and guided several US Presidents and rock musicians (he was most delighted with the musicians). It was an amazing four hours that passed quickly.
We ended with an hour at Beberplatz, where there is a Christmas Market moved from the famous Gendermanplatz because there is some kind of restoration going on there. Beberplatz is also the site of the Nazi book-burning, and a memorial of that horror, library shelves empty of books. Horrors!
We always needed to have a 50-cent coin or a 1 Euro coin to use for the bathrooms, something we never think of in the USA. The pay WCs were always immaculate, and heated!
Back at the hotel, we grabbed a quick Syrian meal at the food court at the nearby mall, which was a hangout for young people, and great for people watching.
We tried without success to withdraw money from three ATMs and were horrified to be told there was a “system problem.”
Back in our room, we were preparing for our visit to the Reichstag, The German equivalent of our US Congress, when we got a message from our bank asking us to contact their fraud department. After a lengthy confirmation process, we were cleared for ATM withdrawals after 24 hours, and just had time to hop in a taxi to get to the Reichstag in time for our appointment.
Visiting the Reichstag was a thrill. We weren’t sure we would get in. We had a letter saying we would be vetted, but we didn’t have a confirmation letter. They scowled at us disapprovingly and then – a miracle! They found our names on the list of people who were permitted! Wooo HOOO! We were escorted to the building, and to the top level of the Reichstag proper, then climbed around and around to the very top.
We could see outside some of the windows in the climb but due to all the snow, many of the windows were totally blocked. We could look down and watch their congressional delegates doing business in the chamber. It was more than a metaphor for transparent government; it was a statement of the belief that government in a Democracy is meant to be transparent.
We watched as several groups of Germans visiting from various small towns and cities met with their congressman/woman for photos; it was joyful!
By the time we left, it was dark, but we knew it was only a twenty-minute walk back, and although it was very very cold, it was not snowing heavily and we thought on a major street, what could go wrong?
We got on the wrong major street. Fortunately, about twenty minutes into the walk AdventureMan realized we were not going in the right direction, and we made a correction. Then, using our tired-end-of-the-day judgment, we decided to cut through a park, where we saw rabbits, and statues of moose and buffalo, and realized once again, we had no idea where we were going. Fortunately, Berlin is full of athletes, and we hailed a biker who was very kind and got us to a street where we could quickly get back to our hotel. Whew!
Being lost, at the end of a long day, in a cold snowy park in the middle of a big city was a little scary, but, compared to the thrill of seeing the Reichstag, hiking to the top, seeing the overview of Berlin, and experiencing so much in one day – getting lost was a small thing.
At the end of the day, we had done more than 17,000 steps. My “record” is 20,000 steps, but it was Monument Valley, and my FitBit confused our ride in the bumpy Land Rover down into the valley with real steps and . . . I never bothered to correct it. But THESE 17,000 steps are all mine!
The finished Poinsettia Tree:
This Berlin we visited today is a far cry from the Berlin we once knew, an island surrounded by an arbitrary and authoritarian government with clearly stated intentions of wiping out the taint of democracy at the first opportunity. This is an open, sophisticated city. It is full of restaurants of all nationalities, and people from all nations, who seem to live together in tolerance and peace, and who express a desire to keep it this way. It is almost too much to absorb. Wait – is that a German eagle at the top of the Poinsettia Christmas tree?
We ache. AdventureMan used up all the bath salts, so the desk said they would send more up and we each had a long soak for our aching bodies. We slept well and were fine for the next day.
Barcelona to Abu Dhabi: Ballons Rising over the Nile and The Valley of the Kings
We were awake before the alarm went off, well-rested, and happy. And when we went to the window, a wonderful sight, balloons rising over the Nile!
We head downstairs for a quick breakfast to discover the breakfast area is chaos, there are bags everywhere with “Cosmos” on them. Merv tells us Cosmos is the agency that handles all these Egypt tours and once a year takes all the employees to a hotel for a meeting to show appreciation for all their hard work. She told us she had been given a room like ours to honor her long service, but – she couldn’t work the shower, and asked for a room on a lower level. We all laughed at our problems with the shower technology.
We are all on the bus before the deadline – what a great group. We head across the Nile to the Valley of the Kings, the group heads to three tombs, AdventureMan heads to the tomb of Seti and I settle into an oasis-like coffee shop where all the guides hang out. I drink coffee and listen to all the stories and gossip. They all know one another.
AdventureMan finds me, and we decide we don’t see any more things we like at the shops. We are not big shoppers, but we need to bring back some small things for people we know.
We leave the Valley and hit several more tomb areas – Queen Hatshepsut’s temple, Medina Habu (temple of Ramses III) which is an anomaly in the Valley as most of it is all about death, but this palace was for the living. A group was setting up for a party, or rock star performance, or something with gold chairs and all kinds of sound systems and fireworks in preparation.
We get to clean up a little before loading back into the bus at 1:24 – this is significant – for the two-and-a-half-hour ride back to Sfaga and the Nautica.
We actually arrived back at about six. It took us a long time to get through all the little villages along the Nile, and my camera battery had run out early in the morning. I watched, I slept, I tried to take some photos with my iPhone, and it got later and later. When we finally got to the mountain road, it was nearly sunset. We stopped for a restroom break, where I paid for three people because no one else had small change and they were charging for the usage. I bought a mochaccino; it tasted great and I really needed it.
Back on the road, slowly, slowly we lost our light and the time got later and later. Finally, we entered Safaga, and within fifteen more minutes, we had gone through Egyptian security and Nautica security, turned in our passports, and headed to our room.
Our favorite table at The Terrace restaurant in the corner is free, so we eat outside, eager to get back to the room, catch up with ourselves, and get our daypacks ready for our docking tomorrow in Aqaba. We are on our way to Wadi Rum, a place with many exhilarating memories from a past life in Jordan.
Hop On, Hop Off in Barcelona
The first time I ever rode a Hop On Hop Off (HOHO) bus was in Barcelona. I was attending an International Quilt Show with two other friends, and we had a ball. I’ve raved about it for years, eager to get AdventureMan to Barcelona. I knew he would love it.
Leaving Sagrada Familia, we hopped back on the HOHO bus. It is the most beautiful day, sunny, warm but not too warm, and Barcelona is full of the most idiosyncratic architectural detail. I am in heaven.
People-who-know tell us we MUST drink Vermouth in Barcelona. I think my parents used vermouth when they made martinis, but I have no idea what it tastes like. We are intrigued.
Imagine, just for a minute, living in this house. It must have high ceilings and spacious rooms. Imagine the added space, up on the rooftops, where you can have drinks or dinner, or put out the clothes drying racks where no one can see.
Fresh roasted chestnuts! They smell so much better than they taste (my opinion)
Of all the jobs I wouldn’t want, replacing huge plates of glass far above the ground would be one of them.
Gaudi apartment building; the same architect who drew up the plans for Sagrada Familia.
We returned to Place Cataluna, starving. We had a great breakfast, but it has now worn off and we want something light to eat for lunch and some famous Barcelona chocolate!
Barcelona, A Breast Cancer Run, and Sagrada Familia
I slept lightly but slept from 10 p.m. to 7:45 a.m., so good enough. We keep expecting jet lag to kick in, but I think we are so busy we are sleeping well at night from sheer exhaustion. We took our time getting ready and headed down to breakfast. What a surprise! Different, but beautiful and tasty and plentiful. I had a little cereal, some thinly sliced ham and sausage, and an espresso, then another. AdventureMan had bread and sausages, with some delicious jam and four fresh orange juices. The room was full of cruisers, some from Princess, so I don’t know who will be cruising with us.
From our room after breakfast, we could see hundreds of pink t-shirted women running. I know this race! Where else do thousands of women race in bright pink T-shirts in October and November? It’s a huge run against breast cancer, and it goes on and on. Streets are closed.
Where we thought we would catch the HopOn HopOff bus is closed off. We have to walk a short distance to the next stop, but we don’t care. This is lovely, and wonderful! They were still running when we went to Plaza Cataluña and we had to cross them going to the plaza, then come back from the place because the buses had to be caught elsewhere.
When we got to the bus, I didn’t have a mask and had to go back to the hotel to pick one up. When we got back to the bus, it was perfect timing, we got a great seat up on top.
We got to Sagrada Familia just in time for our 10:30 tickets. I was surprised we had to go through security like airplane security.
(There are many places you can buy your tickets in advance. We bought our Hop On Hop Off tickets and our Sagrada Familia tickets directly from the operators. Sagrada Familia has a very nice website: https://sagradafamilia.org/en/)
Sagrada Familia was beautiful; beautiful lines, like a stone forest holding up the ceiling. The stained glass windows were stunning. The colors were like Matisse, but without images. We just basked in their loveliness. There wasn’t a huge crowd, and it was quiet and respectful. I can’t imagine what it might be like in high season.
It is a gorgeous Sunday morning, and these people have the most amazing location, just across from Sagrada Familia. What a lovely place to have your Sunday morning coffee and newspaper.
I love the beauty of the statuary, and – look at the frame! It looks like giant teeth!
This has to be a metaphor for the abundance of the Earth . . .
Look how tenderly this (King?) holds this precious baby
It is an artist’s gift, I believe, to use earthly materials to express the inexpressible and barely attainable. Gaudi combines earthliness and Godly tenderness and compassion in a remarkable and awe-inspiring way.
AdventureMan was not wild about visiting Sagrada Familia when there are so many great places to visit in Barcelona. He went to please me. He was WOWED. He still talks about this visit with awe. Best visit ever!
Chasing Petroglyphs: White Mountain, Eden and the Pilot Butte Ponies
This morning, we slept in. Well, 0830 is sleeping in for us, it’s 9:30 in Pensacola and we are up and ready to hit the day. It is a quiet Sunday morning. We have a quick breakfast at the Outlaw Inn, and head out with our friend Google Maps to find White Mountain, and our first petroglyphs of the trip.
It’s an easy drive, just turn right outside the Outlaw Inn and then turn right onto a pretty good County Road. It’s a dirt road, but well maintained. Then we turn onto another county road, a road less travelled. And then Google tells us we’ve missed our exit to White Mountain. What?? There was not a sign of an exit! Not a road sign, not a track, not a visible indicator of a way. We back up. We get out. Oh. There. Faint tire marks turning off the road. AdventureMan goes further on foot to make sure the road continues.
The tracks are more visible once you are actually out in the field. We have an AWD vehicle, we have experience – so we decide to continue on the track. We continue for about half a mile, and the ground is softer. We have visions of being rescued, elderly, dehydrated, because we’ve bogged down out of sight of any road . . . we turn back and decide to follow the county road.
We are so glad we do. Just a couple miles further, we see signs for White Mountain Petroglyphs, and then come to a legitimate turn-off, a marked turn-off. Part way to White Mountain we see those tracks join the road, and we are glad we are not still out there in the field, worried about getting stuck in the sand, no shovels, no cardboard, nothing to help us free ourselves.
Although remote, there is a parking lot, a long-drop toilet, and a clear trail to the base of the mountain, and a clear trail – straight up.
Although Rock Springs is not as high up as Denver, we are still adjusting to the altitude and the dryness of the air. It is still cold, we are glad of it, because the hike heats us up and we take it at a comfortable pace because the air is so dry and our lips and faces are chapping.
Totally worth the hike. While these are not the best-preserved petroglyphs we’ve ever seen, they are original and intriguing. There is also a lot of modern-day petrographic activity of the high school demographic.
The standard rule with petroglyphs (carved into rock) and petrographs (drawn onto rock) is NO TOUCHING. No rubbing, no outlining with chalk, nothing which might degrade the incision or erode the lines. Someone has used chalk, probably a guide, to help viewers understand what they are seeing. If you know anything about petroglyphs, you know that we can speculate, we can ask modern-day First Nation people, and in the end, it is all speculation. Are they celebrating a triumphal hunt? Are they imploring the spirits to be available for the hunt? Are these incised bear claws a tribute to the bear’s strength? A brag about a bear-clan strength? We can only guess.
Boars Tusk is the remnant of an ancient volcano thrust 400 feed above the plain; an instantly recognizable landmark for hikers (and people looking for White Mountain.)
We are pumped. We’ve spent a couple hours traipsing around the mountain, seeking out these obscure petroglyphs, trying to decipher what they were meant to communicate. Bottom line – we don’t know, but we are exhilarated and delighted to have found this site.
The county road loops back around to the main road to Farson, and we know that just short of Farson is the Sweet Water Smoke, a barbecue restaurant we’d like to try. We are famished. Hiking and cold fresh air will do that to you!
We find Sweet Water Smoke and are delighted. It is small, and four of the five tables are taken, which leaves one for us. The entire time we were there, people were coming and going, take out orders rolling out the door, this place is humming with activity.
And no wonder! This is not ordinary barbecue! Their cole slaw is Sriracha cole slaw. They offer roasted brussel sprouts as a side, along with more traditional baked beans, macaroni and cheese, etc. I was just blown away to find roasted brussel sprouts as a side in a small Wyoming town. We remember one time traveling through Wyoming when we felt desperate for vegetables and were told to go to this “wonderful restaurant with a salad bar.” The steak was delicious. The salad bar had potato salad, cottage cheese, jello salad, and macaroni salad.
Sweet Water Smoke changes out two additional entrees every week and features a goat-cheese cheesecake with chocolate ganache. Who could resist?
There is a route we want to follow next, the Pilot Butte Road, which is supposed to be challenging, but I think they may have improved the road since we read the warnings because it was easy with our AWD. Having said that, we passed another group busy changing a tire; the road was dirt and gravel and some potholes. Not what we would consider challenging, but a road where we took care.
We were looking for the herds of wild ponies.
No wild horses in sight, but some mind-blowing expanses of scenery along the track. There were inescapable signs of wild horses, piles and piles of signs of wild horses, but we never saw a single wild horse.
In front of us is a valley where Interstate 80, the old Lincoln Highway, runs. It is also where the Pony Express trail ran before the coast-to-coast railroad took over prompt mail delivery. It makes me sad to see that prompt delivery of mail is no longer a priority for the US Mail system. Here also ran several of the migratory trails as America moved westward. What courage and initiative it took – blasting away hills, bridging canyons and rivers, tunneling through mountains and building across swamps – feats of imagination and engineering. We are in awe of the minds that solved these problems.
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