Other Than That, Mrs. Lincoln, How was the Play?
That’s the punch line of a really bad joke, and it came to mind today as my good friend from Michigan was asking me, after a long conversation about the current disasterous state of events in our country, how AdventureMan and I are getting through the cold days in Pensacola.
Honestly, the weather is glorious. AdventureMan is busy keeping the bird feeders full (he calls them the squirrel feeders) and breaking the ice in our water barrels. The skies are clear and the stars bright and sparkly when the sun goes down.
It IS cold.We are having waves of cold weather, with a little warming in between. Because it goes below freezing frequently, we’ve got our more fragile plants covered, including 2 avocado trees I’ve grown from pits, that are over 10 feet tall 😊. My roses are the first plants I cover; I brought them with me from our former house. They are white, pure white, with a little bit of pink in the center, only visible when they are first blooming. I try to take good care of these roses! We also cover our plumbago, which grows well in this part of Florida.
“And what are you cooking?” my friend asks, she who made a huge frost covered cake to celebrate the storm in Michigan.
“Pork with Apples and Onions,” I replied, “And an Autumn Plum Torte only with peaches, which turned out to have all the taste of sugar, butter, and flour.” I should have known that the peaches I bought in January would not have much flavor.
The weather will dip even further starting Friday, so I am cooking up a big pot of chili tomorrow.
EPSTEIN Files, Please, DOJ Pam Bondi
While we watch aghast as ill-trained ICE agents take down and kill American citizens, and Pam Bondi demands voter registration rolls from Minnesota (and according to the Brennan Center for Justice and Democracy Docket, looking for “sensitive” voter registration information from ALL states), 2 million (estimated) Epstein files have yet to be released.
Minnesotans are the least likely “domestic terrorists” ever, dressed in their buffalo plaid wool shirts and snow boots. Minnesotan, those white bread Scandinavian immigrants from long ago, Paul Bunyan-esque in strength an behavior, amicably welcomed their Somali newcomers, and are now protecting them as best they can while staying alive.
We all have to step back and ask ourselves “Am I a DOMESTIC TERRORIST?”
Look at these good church-going Minnesotans, shuttling immigrant children to school, picking up and delivering groceries to them surreptitiously, taking families hidden in their SUV’s to medical appointments. Do these seem like people who are afraid of their immigrant neighbors?
I respect Customs officials. I respect the rules of our nation. I do not respect those who overstep their jobs, who take delight in the adrenaline rush of attacking protestors, who shoot, rather than exhibit the self-rstraint we expect of law-enforcement. Most of us have no problem with ICE going after, as they state, violent criminals, few as they are.
It’s a Numbers Game
What we object to is going after people who are NOT criminals just because the Toddler-In-Chief wants to be able to show numbers. Trump, you started off your campaign in 2015 going after those rapists, criminals and drug addicts. We didn’t believe you then, and we sure don’t believe you now. We believe our own eyes. We are witnesses to violations of our Constitution by people who should be models of legal behavior.
Corrupting the FBI to investigate political appointments, and firing prosecutors when they tell you there is not evidence to get a conviction is not the American Way.
We know you want to keep your party in power. We know you’re afraid you are going to lose big in upcoming elections, and that is the purpose behind bullying the blue states and trying to intimidate their officials is to get an upper hand on the elections. YOU, who complain about rigged elections, YOU who whine that you really won the 2020 election (and your own elections supervisors would not support your claims) YOU are trying to bully, intimidate and subdue the population so that YOU can rig the elections!
Props to Minnesota! Props to them for showing fortitude, for being good neighbors, for welcoming the stranger (as Moses and Jesus taught us) and for showing self-restraint in the face of thugs and goons itching for a fight. Trump is eager to invoke the Insurrection Act, we know because he says so! Props to you, Minnesota, and to you, Portland for having the maturity and persistence and yes, a sense of humor to outlast, outplay and survive this despicable tyrant.
Win, Seahawks, Win!
Important to know, and one of today’s most highly asked questions: Is a Seahawk a real bird? And the answer is: YES! A Seahawk
is another word for Osprey!
Now you Know!
Win, Seahawks, Win!
Orwellian Insurrection Talk v. Free Elections
I am haunted by memories of our Janus-like leader telling people while running for the office of President that if we voted for him, we would never have to vote again. What could he have meant by that? Aren’t elections part of what we value as a Democracy?
I am troubled by a leader who insists that what we saw with our own eyes on January 6th, that the thugs beating policemen, breaking and entering the Congress, chasing down Mike Pence with a noose was NOT an insurrection, not at all what he was going for when he told followers to “Fight Like Hell!” or we would have no Democracy. This leader who said he would be with them, and scurried back to the white house to watch events unfold on his Presidential television. He didn’t call off these hooligans and goons until HOURS after the violence began.
He PARDONED these thugs who invaded the Congress. He now calls it a “Day of Love.” Like we can’t see with our own eyes?
Just in time for Black History Month, he continues to dismantle exhibitions exploring the relationship between the enslaved and the enslavers. If it makes white people uncomfortable, isn’t that appropriate? Is slavery something we want to return to? And who, exactly do we enslave. Like are camera bearing Democrats candidates for the new underclass?
Armed with Whistles and Phone Cameras
J.D. Vance tells us to “lower the temperature” and help the ICE forces. J.D. Vance, you are talking to Minnesotans! You are talking to the descendants of Norwegians, the very nationality our orange leader wants to come to the USA! You are talking to people who have peacefully incorporated people from many nations, welcomed them! YOU created a spurious policy, based on a poorly made video by a social influencer. Yes, there was a child care scandal, and the people charged were not Somali but US citizens! YOU are creating the rise is heated emotions, and those you are shooting are armed with whistles and phone cameras!
Who has a history of creating violent insurrections? Who has sent unwelcome storm troopers into Minnesota? Who is poking Minnesota officials? Who is creating the problem and like every school boy bully, blaming the victim – “You started it!”
Go HOME, ICE. You are not welcome, you are not needed. You are invading the homes of US CITIZENS without a warrant, and laughing! You are shouting “Boo HOO!” to witnesses when you shoot a non-violent demonstrator 10 times! 10 Times! If that isn’t excessive force, what is?
I applaud the citizens of Minneapolis who are standing against this villainy and this bullying. I applaud their self-restraint and their persistence. I applaud Portland, Oregon for utilizing the legal system to lower the temperature and resist the pressure to give the radical bullying thugs any opportunity to raise the stakes.
Self restraint and Persistence while we activate the legal system is our only hope if we want to continue to have free and safe elections, and I believe that is what this is all really about.
Oh! The People You’ll Meet! (Apologies to Dr. Seuss)
Under the category of Stranger in a Strange Land, things change. My generation revolted (and were sometimes revolting) and rioted and demonstrated against the VietNam War and for Equality, Diversity and Inclusion. We marched. We made documentaries. Oh, we were so idealistic.
AdventureMan, my husband, was a warrior from the beginning, and fought in that unpopular war. When he returned home, people were harassing returning soldiers, even spitting on them.
Emotions have calmed through the years, and many surviving fighters in that war, men and women, have had a tough time dealing with their participation in the war. We often see homeless veterans here in Pensacola; the homeless find Pensacola comfortable, and temperate. You can sleep rough most of the year.
My husband keeps his eye open for fellow vets. When he sees someone with a VietNam vet bumper sticker, or wearing a VietNam Vet bill cap, he’ll go over, shake hands, and swap old war stories. It can be a very moving moment for both parties involved. War-fighting is intense. There are things you don’t forget. There are things you do forget, and years later, they come back in dreams, not good dreams.
And there are also fraudsters out there. Some are well-meaning, well enough, or just oblivious. Some are trying to fake an experience they didn’t have.
We had a homeless man here in Pensacola we helped occasionally. When he told us he had also been in the military, AdventureMan started talking with him and soon started looking very confused. “He’s never been anywhere near being in the military,” he told me, “No one in the military forgets where they did their basic training or can’t remember where they were stationed.” Nothing makes a person mad like someone straight out lying.
Other times, it isn’t so manipulative, it is just ignorant. In the local Apple Market, AdventureMan shook a man’s hand and asked where he’d been in VietNam and the man just looked foolish and said, “It isn’t really my hat, a friend gave it to me.”
More recently, out at Peg Leg Pete’s on the beach, as we were leaving, AdventureMan stopped to talk with a man wearing a 7th Cav hat. But no, he had never been in the 7th Cav; he had been in the Navy, and he was a Cowboy Re-Enactor. He also looked sheepish.
People are tribal. The like association. Kids wear Nikes because they want to play basketball like Michael Jordan. Some people wear Florida State hats because they hope Florida State wins the big game, not because they have ever set foot on the Florida State campus. Or Hawaiaan shirts, or turquoise squash blossom jewelry, or Yosemite sweatshirts (me), because of the association. It’s just the way we are, expressing ourselves with tribes, aspirational or not.
It’s a bad idea to give an impression, knowingly, which may be easily discovered to be false. I had a friend once who found an old sorority pin in a thrift store and wore it as costume jewelry. I told her it was a bad idea, that sororities inspire deep loyalties, and wearing a pin to a sorority that you don’t belong to could damage your reputation. I think she chose to wear it ironically.
Living in Doha, where designer copies were cheap and plentiful, one of my Japanese friends told me that she would NEVER buy a copy; that people who know what details to look for would know you were a pretender. Once you got that reputation, you would always be known as a person who couldn’t afford the real thing. I listened and learned!
AdventureMan says, “Be careful what you wear because of the message that it sends. If you didn’t earn it, don’t wear it.” His Dad was a SeaBee, but he would never wear his Dad’s insignia. People may not be trying to fool people, but people will see what you are wearing and make assumptions.
The majority of people wearing military memorabilia actually have a legitimate connection to that unit, and greeting them results in truly wonderful moments of sharing and camaraderie.
Also – if you believe no women were serving in VietNam, you need to read Kristin Hannah’s book, The Women. Women served as nurses, medics and doctors, as Red Cross workers, and in administrative roles. Although not in combat, they served their country and were shot at, wounded, killed, hit by explosives, died in helicopter evacuations. They suffered PTSD and were treated as poorly as the other wounded vets that came out of that war.
Waiting for Snow
Lest you think I sit around between trips finding things to rant about, I will share my Saturday with you.
I am religious. I am a believer. LOL, here is where Catholics and Muslims have something in common – when I say “I am a believer” my Catholic friends think I am Catholic, and my Muslim friends think I am Muslim. Sooner or later we get it all figured out. I believe in a Great Creator, without whom nothing was created, and who is magnificent beyone our ability to understand. I believe he cares about us on an individual basis, and that he wants only good for all of us, whether we agree or not. I do not understand why he gave us all free will, and I know it would be a terrible world without it. I believe God is infinitely merciful.
So in the midst of some of the political horrors of January, I texted a friend and said “I need a meet-up.” We met up this morning at a local cafe and hashed out our lives, just normal stuff, families, husbands, children, and what we CAN do to make a difference. I have a friend from high school, and a friend from college, and friends from almost every post where we lived. We don’t always see one another, but when we need a good connection, we get on the phone – yeh, old school – and it’s like we’ve never been apart. When I need to re-balance, when my emotions are unmanageable, my friends help me recenter. Thanks be to God. At the cafe, I also saw another old friend, of a different political persuasion, and we were delighted to see one another, reminding me that our current differences are temporary, and mendable.
I arrived back home to the aroma of garlic and peppers sautéing; AdventureMan is making beans! We have been informed it MIGHT snow tonight, it is hovering just above and below freezing and a big pot of beans is a perfect hot weather meal.
Birds on the Bayou are chowing down, the fish must be running. We have pelicans plunging, an eagle chasing off a hawk, a cormorant and a heron.
Last year, almost this same time of year, we got several inches of snow. In previous years, I have seen a flake of snow here and there, but last year was a special confluence of factors – humidity, cold, polar vortex and a series of cold dry days in which the snow first fell, and then stuck around. It was like wiping away all the bad, a clean, clear new earth, few cars driving, lots of walking and lots of playing. Maybe we all need to play a little more. Pensacolians love a good snow, and it doesn’t stick around long enough to get old.
Our house is warm, we have a big pot of beans cooking, we have friends, I’ve recovered all my lost-for-a-very-short-time passwords and life is sweet. May you be equally blessed; may all your problems be little ones.
Oh Those Poor White People, Those Poor White Men
First, a disclaimer. I like men. I like men a lot. Some of my best friends are men, of all colors and nationalities. I am married to a white man.
Our Glorious Leader, the Bone-Spur Coward-in-Chief declares (as he has in Executive Orders from Day One of his Regency) that diversity, equality and inclusiveness are discrimitory against white males, and are hurting them.
I challenge Trump to take a look at statistics. I challenge him to tally the ranks of CEOs and Executives in the USA to see just what percentage of each sex and race are in those positions, and in what proportions. IF white males are not dominant, I will eat this post.
Yes. This is a rant. Yes, I am livid. As a woman, I was privileged to go to university, privileged because my own father was sure that women’s place was in the home, having children, taking care of you know, women things. He was shocked and horrified that I didn’t get a teacher’s degree or a nursing degree, or why had he sent me to college?
A very small percentage of women and people of color have managed to get to the highest positions of influence, power and wealth in the United States. So tell me about the poor white men!
For my American friends who scorn the Middle East; I lived in three countries, Qatar, Kuwait and Saudi Arabia where the voters – men – recently voted for the women in their countries to have the vote. These were men who love their mothers, sisters, cousins, wives and daughters and wanted them to have the dignity of choice of leadership in their own countries. They educated their daughters, and even, in Saudia Arabia, would take their daughters out to the deserts and teach them how to drive, even though it was illegal in Saudi Arabia for women to drive. These Arab, Islamic men you denigrate supported the right of females to vote, to have access to good education. At one time they sent them to the United States. I don’t imagine they will be sending their daughters -or their sons – here now.
It is unthinkable to me that these statements are issuing from privileged white men in charge of our country. We’re looking at universities in Ireland and Scotland where universities will, as US universities once did, encourage free exchange of ideas and fraternity, and equality and respect and dignity of all people.
At one time, not too long ago, in our country, we had laws, and those laws were obeyed! We had laws protecting the cleanliness of our air and water, we had laws protecting the rights of citizens – and non-citizens. We had laws against profiting from public office, laws requiring the disclosure of personal interests, and recusal from decisions that might enrich the decision-maker. We had laws requiring oversight of government policies. We had a Supreme Court that acted with impartiality. We had a President who was not above the law. We had alliances with countries with whom we stood shoulder to shoulder for decades against bullies and thugs.
I expect my son will call and warn me that our Orange Acting President of Venezuela is about to take away my citizenship and send his Goons to my door with zip ties for speaking out. Or maybe just come and shoot me in the face as I offer cookies and ice tea?
British Isles: Lerwick, Shetland and Jarlshof
We are finally here! Were were excited about visiting the Shetland Islands back when we did The Wake of the Vikings, but the weather made the water too tough to dock or tender in, and we had to skip the Shetland Islands. It was particularly disappointing to AdventureMan, as he had watched every episode of Shetland, a mystery series on Netflix.
As it turns out, he wasn’t alone – one of the first things the guide mentions is that everyone wants to see where the murders were committed (and through the trip, she showed us!) but that the show made The Shetlands look like the murder capitol of the world, when in truth, daily life tends to be very routine, and crime of any kind is limited. And everybody knows everybody.
Probably half of our bus had watched the show, or read Ann Cleeves addictive books about Shetland, and there was a lot of enthusiasm and appreciation from the people on the bus when the guide pointed out the places where the crimes really did not take place.
On our way this morning, this cracked me up. The local ferry, the North Link, with a big Viking on it passes the huge Viking ship as if we were barely moving, LOL. I guess it just struck me as funny. Maybe he’s pointing the way, thinking we are lost.
Today, it is cloudy, but they are high clouds, and foggy, the kind that burns off by late morning, and AdventureMan spots a seal sporting in the Viking Jupiter wake as we are docking.
I was wearing a skirt, but I change into Levi’s because it is chill, this is Juneau, Alaska, where I grew up kind of August. I wear a shirt under a sweater, and carry a windbreaker, which I later don when we hit Jarlshof, our destination today.
En route, we pass gorgeous bays, fields full of fat, happy sheep, contented cows and frisky Shetland ponies. We stop for a break in Hoswick where I find a gorgeous handmade coffee cup, and love the old crafts demonstrations set up there. It was still very early – barely 8:30, so they had gone to some trouble to be open when we passed through.
In this village I see something that blows my mind, an entire hedge which is a fuchsia shrub. Fuchsias are special to me; I used to buy one for my Mother for Mother’s Day. I have tried to keep hanging fuchsia’s almost everywhere we have lived, but they are very particular – don’t like heat at all, and need just the right amount of water. The guide tells me this is a hardy fuchsia, and they are grown all over the Shetlands because they love it there. What luxury!
We see a tall ship out in the adjoining bay. Our guide is smart, and a good story-teller. She tells us not much really grown in the Shetlands to support life; the trees are mostly gone, some grow potatoes and vegetables in family plots, but the main industry, until the oil fields came, has been fishing, particularly herring. There are herring stations near where our boat is docked, and she tells us there were women called the “gutting girls” who would flay and salt the herring and put them in barrels to ship around the world.
We learned the Shetlands have only been a part of Scotland for the last 500 years; before that they were largely settled by Danes and Norwegians. The streets are named after Norwegian kings, and their language is a marvelous combination of Norwegian language patterns coupled with Scottish vocabulary.
We reach Jarlshof, literally the house of the Earl, and there is a ruin of a medium sized stone house with more-or-less modern dimensions. The treat, though, is that (like Scara Brae in the Orkneys) a large storm uncovered ruins of dwellings dating back more than 4,000 years, built partly underground but covered by sand over the years.
The people who lived here were smart, and inventive. They created archways and strong tunneled wheel-houses, for living, for storage, or so the anthropologists and archaeologists surmise. The truth is, no one knows how or why, or even who made these dwellings. No one really knows whether they died out, or were driven away when the Northmen invaded, or if they assimilated – most of the Orkneys and Shetland Islands have a large portion of Nordic blood running in their veins.
Seeing these early dwellings is a thrill, and it is further thrilling knowing that there may be even earlier dwellings underneath these ones. No one wants to destroy what they have found so far to search for earlier peoples.
Equally thrilling is that while we are touring Jarlshof, the sun breaks through and the landscape looks different, no longer shades of grey and diffuse with fog, now it is bright and shines with energetic colors.
You never know when suddenly you will find a treasure, and today, as I was exiting through the Visitor Center, I saw some truly gorgeous scarves, in classic colors with classic patterns, created by a Scottish Heritage foundation. I couldn’t resist. Sometimes you see something special and you know it. This scarf thrills my heart.
Leaving Jarlhof, we are stopped by a gate across the road and a red light. The road crosses the airport landing strip, and a plane is landing, stopping all traffic in both directions until the gates are lifted once again. We watch the plane land, and then we proceed. I’ve since learned from Ann Cleeves that this is Sumburgh Airport, into which investigators and medical examiners fly from Aberdeen when there are all these murders in Shetland.
Our ride home is beautiful, again the hills with sheep and cows and ponies, even a few goats. We see small farms, we reach Lerwick where the Viking Jupiter is docked and see granite and sandstone buildings, a high street for shopping and modern supermarkets. Our guide is very proud to tell us that most of the shops in the Shetlands are privately owned, with very few chain stores. Shopping is more personal. Mail order through the internet is iffy – because everything has to come in by air or by sea, weather plays a big role, particularly the wind and rain, and no one guarantees “next-day” delivery.
Back on board, we both choose Malabar beef curry with roasted carrots and are delighted. Afterwards, we go down to the main lounge for coffee, then to the spa to exercise and to recover from our morning.
I try to carve a time each day when I can write this journal while our memories are still fresh, but there is so much! I wake up in the middle of the night remembering new things I need to tell you about!
We are starting to think about packing. Every time we think about it, we put it off. Our ship just departed Shetland for Bergen, Norway, where we will spend the day tomorrow, then depart on Monday for home. We can pack tomorrow.
Leaving Shetland – even the skies and seas are the Shetland colors of my scarf!
Maybe this was the best day of our trip?
British Isles: Aberdeen Exceeds Expectations
We had low expectations for Aberdeen, but thanks to a truly great guide on our Aberdeen historical and architectural tour, we now see Aberdeen in a whole new light.
Our first impression as we drive around, is how very clean Aberdeen is. Our guide, Andy, told us that when COVID struck, and tourism dwindled to nearly nothing, the city took a very preemptive move to ask the oil and gas companies for funds to pressure wash and clean all the granite buildings. The difference is astonishing. The grey granite of Aberdeen sparkles!
The Historic Aberdeen tour started with a drive through the area with the private schools, leading to a visit at two universities where they had recently cleaned everything, and it was stunningly beautiful. We were able to visit the old library, classroom and chapel.
Continuing on, we go to Fitbee/Footee, a picturesque fishing village tired of all the tour buses coming through and taking photos into their windows (!). My great favorite at the beach in Fittee is the mobile sauna booths. Such creative enterprise!
We hit the high points of downtown, the shopping streets, and the architectural highlights.
Then we stop at Union Terraces, surrounded by the King’s Theatre, St. Mark’s Cathedral, The Andrew Carnegie Library, and a modern apartment complex built around an old church tower. We visit an impressive statue of William Wallace; Andy tells us to be sure to read the inscription and narrative at the bottom of the statue:
“Go back to your masters, and tell them that we came not to treat, but to fight and set Scotland free.”
(Answer of Wallace to the English Friars sent to negotiate a pacific treaty with him before the battle of Stirling Bridge.)
We end the day with our old friends, having dinner in Manfredi’s. AdventureMan and I had the Brodetto, an Italian seafood stew, tasty – some might call it spicy, but it was not hot spicy, just tasty spicy. We shared stories, talked about our time in Saudi Arabia and in Germany, talked about common family issues and advice columns, and we laughed a lot. It was a delightful way to end a wonderful day. Below is our sunset en route to Kirkwall, in the Orkney Islands!
British Isles: Great Fun in Edinburgh
Early rising today as we are in Group 2 and meeting up at 7:45 am in the Star theatre to tender in to port to catch our bus. Whew! We had a quick breakfast – I am back to oatmeal now that the novelty of so much variety has worn off. We pack up our quiet boxes (it looks like hearing aids, but it allows the guide to speak to us as we are walking along without broadcasting to the world), our windbreakers, our phones, cameras and make sure we have everything we need.
They call our group quickly after group one (Group one is going to play golf at Saint Andrew’s; we are going on the panoramic tour of Edinburgh which is riding around in the bus about one hour looking at important things, then walking up the King’s Mile to the Edinburgh Castle. It is August, the month of the Tattoo, and the Castle has huge grandstands set up for people to come and watch this historical ceremony.
It is also the month of several festivals, so we are glad our bus is first out and full of people who are on time and board quickly. We have the streets to ourselves, shared only with the children and their backpacks headed to school. But look at the skies – so grimy! I try not to think about particulates and to breathe shallowly.
The tour shows us all kinds of buildings – housing for rich and poor, schools, different architectural styles, different kinds of stone and decorations, statues of important men and homes of some of Edinburgh’s famous men. Edinburgh, and Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin, give of thick Game of Thrones vibes to me. We park and hike up the hill to the castle, and the King’s Mile, where we are on our own for an hour and the crowds begin arriving.
Below are the grandstands built to seat audiences for the Grand Tattoo. It gives me shivers and chills just to imagine sitting there.
You can see the same grandstands behind us.
We make a quick stop at the Castle Arms Pub, where they very kindly allow us to use their facilities, then we hike up to the castle, and down the King’s Mile. Then back up the King’s Mile, and we still have 15 minutes to spare so we head back to the Castle Arms Pub to have a coffee and an IRN-BRU (special Scottish soft drink) to thank them for allowing us to stop earlier. Our guide picks us up on the way back down the hill, and everyone going back to the boat is on time, again. We love traveling with Viking people.
When we get back to the port, we decide to explore a little before heading back to the ship, so we look for the grocery store the guide has told us about to see a little of how the real Scots live, or at least where they shop. It is an Asda grocery, but once inside, it sure has the feel of a Walmart, with signs about price rollbacks and arrows, clothing racks and foods – its a supermarket, not unlike you would find in France or Spain or Pensacola. The goods are goods like we would buy in Pensacola. We just see one thing we know is genuinely Scottish:
When we get back to port, we board the tender and are back on the ship very shortly. It’s been another great day on this trip, bright sunshine, warm but temperate weather, zero complaints.
We both chose lunch from the noodle shop, broccoli and stir fried shrimp and mushrooms for both. And dessert, of course. Blueberry sorbet, and it is wonderful.
We need a trip to the Nordic Spa, the bubbly hot wave pool down on the first deck, with a snow room, a steam room and lovely serene changing rooms with saunas. Sheer bliss.
We have unruly neighbors. This afternoon we hears thumps and screams amidst the shouting and arguing and finally AdventureMan called security and asked them to make a call to check on their well-being. It stopped for a while. It’s started up again.
We see the name Lothian on buses and small stores. AdventureMan tells me Lothian is the name of the lowland region that includes Edinburgh, lying between the southern shore of the Firth of Forth and the Lammermuir Hills and the Moorfoot Hills. So you take the high road and I’ll take the low road . . . . Firth is a cognate of fjord, a Norse word meaning a narrow inlet. Thank you, AdventureMan. Now we are leaving Edinburgh.
We would come back to Edinburgh again. There is so much history here we just skimmed over. The Romans. Hadrian’s Wall. We need to come back.
We’ve finished dinner, but we haven’t finished chatting, and there is a big block of something (?) floating off starboard side and people start rushing over to take a picture of the “iceberg.”
I have no idea what it really was, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t an iceburg.
Sunset en route to Aberdeen
I haven’t said much about shopping. It’s because I haven’t shopped much. Our great quest on arrival in London was to find good cheese and good wine to have in our cabin. It thrills us to sit out on our balcony with good cheese and a nice glass of wine as we sail away.
Most of the trips we take are busy. These cruises are what you make of them. Some people are really laid back and mostly are on the trip for the cruise experience; they love the shows and on-board games and entertainment (there are better cruise lines for that.) One group on this trip is about golf, and another group is about visiting gardens, and they meet up at night and have great conversations, regaling one another with discoveries and anecdotes. Some love visiting wineries and distilleries at every port. My husband and I are mostly into history, early history for me, military history for my husband. We have lists of what we want to see and scurry to hit our priorities. It can be exhausting – and exhilarating. Shopping, however, gets tucked in where it can.
I found some cool Christmas gifts at the Canturbury Cathedral. I bought chocolate with Irish whiskey and a Celtic coffee mug in Dublin, more chocolate in Wales, and a tin of tea with a dragon on it! That’s about it so far. Some people came back from Edinburgh laden with shopping bags. Most of their shopping was gorgeous woolens, but I have woolens, and I live in Pensacola, Florida, where woolens are mostly irrelevant (and too itchy for me.) So we’re really not spending much. We ARE having a terrific time.
I wish we had another day at sea before Aberdeen; I need time to integrate all these new sights and ideas. No such luck! On one cruise, with several sea days, a friend of the ship’s captain told us that days-at-sea were a hardship for the ship’s crew, that the one thing that can cause big trouble is bored passengers. I can imagine! And I am a woman who needs time to ponder and to integrate!
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