When the News is Personal
MARTYRS OF THE SUDANS
(16 May 1983)
Photo From the Episcopal News Service
The Christian bishops, chiefs, commanders, clergy and people of Sudan declared, on May 16, 1983, that they would not abandon God as God had revealed himself to them under threat of Shariah Law imposed by the fundamentalist Islamic government in Khartoum. Until a peace treaty was signed on January 9, 2005, the Episcopal Church of the Province of the Sudan suffered from persecution and devastation through twenty-two years of civil war. Two and a half million people were killed, half of whom were members of this church. Many clergy and lay leaders were singled out because of their religious leadership in their communities. No buildings, including churches and schools, are left standing in an area the size of Alaska. Four million people are internally displaced, and a million are scattered around Africa and beyond in the Sudanese Diaspora. Twenty-two of the twenty-four dioceses exist in exile in Uganda or Kenya, and the majority of the clergy are unpaid. Only 5% of the population of Southern Sudan was Christian in 1983. Today over 85% of that region of six million is now mostly Episcopalian or Roman Catholic. A faith rooted deeply in the mercy of God has renewed their spirits through out the years of strife and sorrow.
From the proposal before the 75th General Convention
We have a friend in South Sudan, Manyan Debid Mayer. We met him with a delegation of African Journalists here in Pensacola looking at Freedom of the Press with Gulf Coast Diplomacy. He came to our house, with two other African delegates, shortly before Christmas, and we had a lovely and memorable evening together sharing our stories.
Manyan Debid told us about his childhood, as the Janjaweed attacked in Sudan, and how very suddenly, often in the middle of the night, an entire village would have to evacuate, carrying only what they could carry on their backs. It was chaotic, terrifying – and deadly. Villages would be burned and razed to the ground.
The villagers would run towards the missions in Uganda for safety. Sometimes families got separated. The children found shelter, and care, at the missions while they waited to be reunited with their desperate parents. At the missions, the priests would teach the children the basics, using a stick, and drawing letters, shapes and numbers on the ground. Manyan Debid, now a journalist, got his start with those very basic lessons at the mission churches.
We Americans know so little. Few even know where South Sudan is, or that it is a separate nation from Sudan, one of the newest nations in the world.
I got caught in a comical situation as I tried to wire funds to Manyan Debid once during continued difficulties in South Sudan. I went to my bank and asked them to wire x amount of money to my friend. They looked at me oddly. They called the bank manager, and had hushed conversations. The manager came in and interrogated me very gently, asking how I know this person, did he contact me over the internet, how often did he ask me for money, questions that were none of his business – except, as it turns out, it was. They thought I was an old lady being scammed by some internet scammer. Did I even know, they asked me, that Sudan was on the restricted countries list?
I explained equally gently and firmly that South Sudan is a separate country from Sudan, and how I knew this man, how we had met in Pensacola through a visit arranged by the Department of State, how he had been a guest in my house and that we had corresponded as friends, on Facebook for years. They didn’t believe me. They didn’t believe there was a separate country called South Sudan. At the end, I finally had to tell them it was MY money, and that I could send him this amount and even if it were a scammer, it would not hurt me. Very reluctantly, they wired the funds to my friend.
Manyan Debid and I are still in touch. Today, he is a working journalist in South Sudan, still bravely facing the forces who would like to take South Sudan, and all its oil wealth, and destroy the existence of South Sudan.
There are still martyrs in South Sudan. And most Americans don’t even know South Sudan exists.
Morocco Malta and the Med: Cadiz, An Unexpected Thrill
Too early for sunrise, not yet in Cadiz, and not allowed out on the deck – maybe high winds?
So this is the Explorer’s Lounge, where I hand out early in the morning, catching up with e-mails and Lectionary readings so I don’t wake AdventureMan.
I have a friend who brings me coffee and says “Madam! The sun is about to come up!” I can’t go outside, but shooting through the window works out. We are still not in Cadiz, plenty of time.
This yellowish haze is disturbing, and it is everywhere. Finally the sun sort of breaks through.
Shortly after breakfast, we approach Cadiz.
So here is the first unexpected blessing. This is the view from our stateroom:
This changes everything. We had booked a walking tour of Cadiz. We cancel it. We are so close we can visit everything on our own, at our own pace, and find a place for lunch.
From Google Earth:
Cádiz is an ancient port city in the Andalucia region of southwestern Spain. The home of the Spanish Navy, the port boomed in the 16th-century as a base for exploration and trade. It has more than 100 watchtowers, including the iconic Torre Tavira, which was traditionally used for spotting ships. On the waterfront is the domed, 18th-century Cádiz Cathedral, featuring baroque and neoclassical elements.
And this is what Cadiz looks like – a narrow isthmus and a quick walk from one side to the other. We are docked in the port to the North east, facing the Cadiz Cathedral.
It is just the kind of place we love – great for walking, lots to see, and we can do this on our own!
From Wikipedia: Admiral Blas de Lezo y Olavarrieta (3 February 1689 – 7 September 1741) was a Spanish navy officer best remembered for the Battle of Cartagena de Indias (1741), where Spanish imperialforces under his command decisively defeated a large British invasion fleet under Admiral Edward Vernon.
Throughout his naval career, Lezo sustained many severe wounds; he lost his left eye, left hand, complete mobility of the right arm, and had his left leg amputated in situ after being hit by the projectile of a cannon.[1] He perceived his wounds and physical limitations as medals, refusing to wear an eye patch to hide his blind eye. Wearing his past battles history on his flesh won the respect of his peers and soldiers.[2] Lezo used to say that the lack of a leg does not imply the lack of a brave heart. It is said that he sometimes recalled famous Dutch admiral Cornelis Jol, called “pegleg” because of his wooden prosthesis, as an example of a sailor who undertook great enterprises and achieved great renown, especially in piracy and privateering, despite his theoretical disability.[3]
Lezo’s defense of Cartagena de Indias against a vastly larger British fleet consolidated his legacy as one of the most heroic figures in the history of Spain. He is often recognized as one of the greatest strategists in naval history.[4][5]
We really can’t get lost in Cadiz:
The Christmas Market going up:
The Cadiz Mariner’s Church and mission
You would think below might be a church, or a mosque, but it is actually a private school for boys.
“To Sing is to Pray twice!”
We’ve learned something from our time in Barcelona searching for a hair brush (which, by the way, I had not lost. AdventureMan was right, it is a small brush and it was hiding in the bottom of my purse.) Now I’ve broken my hair clip, which keeps my hair out of my eyes and face while I am swimming or sleeping. It is totally broken, the wire snapped, it is useless. But as we pass this store below, I can hear the Barcelona hairdressers saying “China shop! China shop!”
China Shops are not always called China shop, but you can always tell from the outside because they are crammed with goods, and local people are inside buying what they need. I found a ton of hair clips, and I think I paid 79 pence (less than $1) for a hair clip. I hated to leave. They had a huge inventory of Christmas items, things I don’t need, thinks I can’t pack, but what if I never see them again? I only buy the hair clip, and am proud of myself, but with mixed feelings.
Then AdventureMan spots this store across the street with the most amazing display of PlayMobile figures. I was about to drift by, but he made me stop and pay attention, and I was blown away. If only I had little grandchildren and could justify buying them!
We’ve been hiking around Cadiz all morning, and we are ready to have lunch. We look and look for the right place – not too grand, not too stuffy, but with good local food. Finally, sigh, we settle for a place that is also full of Spanish tourists, so a tourist place, but Spanish tourists.
One funny thing happened here; a large group, maybe 12 mobility-impaired people and caretakers, came in, and a table was put together for all of them, and they got menus while one woman took her husband to the washroom. They kept not ordering. When the couple got back, they all got up and left.
We ordered tourist stuff – fish, grilled peppers, paella. It was good and we had a great time watching all the people pass by.
We have to be very careful not to catch this woman’s eye; she is soliciting tourists to buy hand made “African” bracelets, but what catches my eye is her headdress and clothing. When the police show up, she fades away quickly.
As we sit here eating lunch, we see group after group of Viking passengers pass by.
After we eat, we head up the street, only to discover our next blessing which is also a little disappointing, but oh well, it is what it is. Around the corner, if we had just gone a little bit further is the open market! It is colorful, and full of fresh beautiful vegetables, meats and seafood. AdventureMan needs to try some local sherry.
We leave the market, wandering our way back towards the ship. AdventureMan spotted an ice cream shop he wants to try. I got a very black chocolate ice cream, maybe the most chocolaty ice cream I had ever eaten. I think he can’t remember which he had, perhaps a cherry, but he says it “was all good. We had some good ice cream on that trip.”
We take our time heading back to the ship. Cadiz is so walkable, so much fun.
You can quickly go through the rest. I fell in love with our view and the sun setting behind the Cadiz Cathedral, our last thrill for the day in Cadiz before sail away.
I think this is the night we eat in the ship’s Italian restaurant, Manfredi’s. We had reservations for another night but canceled them when we discovered it was French night at the World Cafe.
The food was pretty good. People compete for these reservations. Our perception is that we have equally good Italian food other places, often better.
We also have discovered this about ourselves – we like food, and we are both a little on the attention deficit side. Sitting for a long time in a restaurant being served makes us restless. We really like the World Cafe; many of the foods are the same ones served in the Dining Room and the specialty restaurants without the time-consuming service. We can also exercise control over the serving sizes and sample something we might like to try but might not like to eat. We like getting up and walking, and we like that if there is something we like a lot, we can go back and get a little bit more. The World Cafe works well for us.
Morocco Malta and the Med: Casablanca and El Jadida
I can’t be staying in bed when we are coming into port in a new city.
This was seriously disturbing.
That mist looks sulfuric!
We are warned that Casablanca is an industrial port. No kidding!
Quick breakfast and we are off to El Jadida, an old Portuguese fortress city. We were actually here ten years ago on our very first cruise, The Moors in Spain and Morocco. We really love Morocco. One year we came here at Christmas, which was also Ramadan, rented a car and drove all around Morocco with our son. We had such a great time.
Our guide tells us this area near El Jadida is famous for raising horses for racing and showing.
Me and my stone walls!
Getting close to El Jadida:
An old Portuguese Catholic Church in El Jadida. The people around Casablanca make it a point to discuss frequently how tolerant the area is, with Jewish and Christian populations as well as Muslim and Berber. Our guide was proudly Berber.
We had been warned that the beautiful old Portuguese Cisterns were closed for restoration, so the photo below is the exterior only, but I have a treat for you. Below the shot of the exterior is a photo of the interior I took ten years ago. I still love to look at it. The cisterns are so beautiful as well as functional.
I don’t consider this cheating; I consider it . . . um . . . illustrating. . . or embellishing to show you what you might see when you go to El Jadida.
Below are Moroccan silk weavings.
I believe this is the old Jewish bakery.
When you read old histories or bible stories about prisoners being cast into a well, it could look a lot like this:
This picture below is hilarious because I am wearing an expensive pair of shoes that I find clunky. The trip description said it was challenging, with uneven hikes, rocks, and hills. It was a very mild hike; I could have worn my sandals.
My husband took this photo below; he loved the contrast of the drawing of the cisterns and the laundry hung to dry over the cisterns.
It’s going to be a couple hours ride back to the ship, but the guide has a treat for us – “Snacks” at a local restaurant, part of the tour, no extra charge. The small restaurant was just big enough to hold all of us, had a nice clean restroom and place to wash up, and served these delicious sandwiches, followed by a selection of house baked Moroccan cookies, and Turkish coffee or Mint Tea. The owner and his wife were so hospitable. They made us feel like very special guests. It really was a treat!
As we sail away from Casablanca, that same ship continues to be surrounded with that yellow steamy cloud.
For us, we have seen everything we wanted to see. We think Cadiz and Malaga will be pretty tame after the excitement of Ajaccio, Malta, Tunis and Algiers. (We were wrong!)
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: Revisiting Life in Tunis
Sunrise getting close to Tunis.
You may be a little hazy on where Tunisia is:
We recognize Carthage and Sidi Bou Said, but everything is so much more built up.
Saint Louis Cathedral up on the hill, we remember. Oh wow, Wikipedia tells me it is no longer a cathedral: Since 1993, the cathedral has been known as the “Acropolium”. It is no longer used for worship, but instead hosts public events or concerts of Tunisian music and classical music. Currently, the only Roman Catholic cathedral operating in Tunisia is the Cathedral of St. Vincent de Paul in Tunis.[1] Hunh. Acropolium.
We had exactly the day we needed in Tunis, thanks to this fine man, Noureddine Boukari. We found him through Tours by Locals, and he corresponded with us to determine exactly what we wanted to see and experience in our precious few hours in Tunis.
He was there to pick us up as we exited the boat. He took us directly downtown, along Habib Bourgiba to the Central Market and the souks as they were opening. It was a great beginning; the Central Market hasn’t changed much in forty years; people can still find the freshest fish and local vegetables as they do their daily shopping.
LOL this thrilled my heart!
This was so much fun for me – probably because as a young wife, shopping for food was challenging at first – buying by weight in the markets, always carrying our own bags to put our vegetables in. I have so many hilarious stories, mostly because I was so ignorant, and had to learn new ways.
Noureddine introduced us to friends who were shopkeepers, and they had a great time talking with AdventureMan.
As I type this up, I hear the words in French and Arabic for eggs, parsley, pumpkins – it comes roaring back, words I haven’t used in a while.
And we head for the souks, which are just opening. The whole medina area is SO clean now!
The Hotel Royal Victoria on the right used to be the British Embassy a long time ago, right at the main entry to the souks.
I didn’t do a lot of shopping on this trip, but I found in these souks a beautiful silk scarf hand woven in Mahdia for my daughter-in-law and a huge red sefsari in the old pattern for the woman who stays in our house and cares for the cats while we are gone, and who, like me, loves textiles.
These date pastries/cookies are so delicious. Noureddine is taking a box to his family.
Our chariot awaits. We drive around Tunis and arrive at the Bardo just as all the tour groups are leaving. Noureddine leads us through the centuries of mosaics. The Bardo is more beautiful and more organized than it was all those years ago.
The Bardo itself is a former palace. Now it holds priceless mosaics taken from ruins of houses built throughout Tunisian history (Tunis, Carthage, Dougga, Kairoan, Djerba – it is impressive.)
The imagination and the execution of the work is exquisite.
Below is an intricate ceiling.
View of Tunis from the Bardo Palace.
A treasure discovered with hundreds of gold coins and one silver coin (at the bottom).
Ancient Punic Gods. Some are really hideous.
This is the house where once we lived, but not in this house, in the house that used to be there. I am glad Noureddine found the address, but it is not the house where we lived. But it IS on the way to Carthage and Sidi Bou Said, and to a delightful lunch of bric, and couscous.
Brik!
Fresh fish, which Noureddine skilfully deboned for us.
Vegetable couscous. I’ve never tasted carrots as delicious as those grown in Tunisia.
We have a lovely walk around Sidi Bou Said before heading back to the ship.
On return to the Viking Saturn, as instructed, we had our shore passes out and ready to give to the official collecting them. But there was no official collecting them! No one was collecting them! We still have them! Just in case.
The sun is setting over Tunis.
As we sail away, a flock of gulls trail us, hoping for a hand out!
Just in case you are, like me a map person, this is a general idea of the route we took today:
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: 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.
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.
Tauck Museum Day and Sail Away
We have a good friend who once grumbled “Here we are on a sea day, paying $1000 a day to sit and read!” He made us laugh, we are heavy into itineraries, and we also appreciate a day to kick back.
Today, once again, Tauck has a full itinerary for us; an early-morning Tauck guest-only visit to the Marmottan, the Monet museum not too far from our ship, then a walking tour of the Montmartre, lunch in Montmartre, and then an afternoon at the Musee’ D’Orsay. It sounds wonderful, and I wave my family off, I’ve done all three before and I am feeling tired and dehydrated – it’s been so hot, and we’ve been on the move. I want a quiet day.
AdventureMan and Q have their own goal to accomplish today, a visit to the Invalides, Napoleon’s tomb and the French Army Museum. They are gamers, and they love to have “feet on the ground” with military history.
They take the train, get there early and make their rounds before the crowds arrive. They are back on the boat by lunch time.
That look in his eye: “I’m taller than you are!”
The passengers return, people settle in on the upper deck, and we sail away!
The sail-away is so much fun. Most of the passengers are all up on the top deck, and the ship first goes toward Paris, toward the statue of Liberty copy and the Eifel Tower, and hangs out for about fifteen minutes, changing positions, so that every family can get their photo taken with the statue and/or the tower in the background.
Mostly we just chill.
It’s a total accident that my grandson has a balloon coming out of his head.
I think this was also the night of the first youth dinner, in the aft restaurant, while the grown-ups ate together in the more formal restaurant. What I found really wonderful was that all the young people who had been so eager to be off and catching up with their new friends during family-style dinners were popping in just to check in, kind of like they were worried we were having too much fun without them!
Another wonderful thing happened. As we sailed down the twisty curvy Seine towards Giverney, the temperatures began dropping. What a wonderful relief!
Tauck Treats: A Day of Amazement in Paris
Sunrise over the Seine, and yes, that is the Eifel Tower and it is another glorious (and hot) day. We are still jet lagging, which means getting up early is easy.
It is wonderful to have a grandson who has a good eye with a camera.
The area where we are docked is modern, with businesses, apartment blocks, a little industrial, and – we are right by a beautiful park with an air balloon, convenient to a train station just steps away on a major line that can take us anywhere we want to go (K discovered this yesterday and shares with us) and we are sleeping on the Seine with a view of the Eifel tower. For me, it just never fails to thrill.
Tauck Treats. Today is a day like no other, for me. Today, I just do what I’m told, go where I am taken and I don’t have to make things happen, just be fully present. I love it. Tauck doesn’t tell you everything you’re going to do; it is a mystery, a treat when it happens. One of today’s treats is that they are giving us Euros to find where we want to eat. The amount is generous, and some are choosing to eat street food and spend the rest on souvenirs.
One surprise is that we are on a smaller, private Bateau Mouche. This is really fun! We are doing the same trip, only one way; we board right next to our ship and will get off at Ile de la Cite’.
I love his bird’s eye view – I wonder if he has to walk up all those flights carrying his groceries? Maybe they have retrofitted an elevator?
We arrive; the normal toilets are blocked off with the upcoming Olympics, so Tauck makes a deal with a local store to let us use their restroom – a familiar store on the Left Bank (Subway.)
It’s a long line, but serendipitous – we start to meet our cruising mates. Here is one of the unexpected blessings. The cruise is full of families of all shapes and kinds. Some are celebrating, and some are grieving and overcoming losses. Some are traditional and some are not. The families are formulated all different ways with one thing in common – they love their children and grandchildren, and the trip is a wonderful way to spend time together. We all have a lot in common, no matter what our differences might be.
We are in the group that starts with the Citroyen Tour, and we have to be a party of three so we ask to take N with us – she is a lot of fun.
We arrived back at the meeting point to discover our other three family members had not been able to go, they were one car short! We agreed to take N on the next activity, and then split up for lunch, agreeing to meet in an hour.
We walked a short way into the Left Bank and found a place to eat that sang to our souls.
Our time in Paris is short; we are happy to make the most of it!
Pork with sauce, frites, and salad
Steak frites and salad
I forgot to take pictures of the chocolate mousse!
Across the street was a very beautiful small church, Sainte Severin. As we stood outside looking at it, the waiter ran after us carrying my husband’s “go bag” with our maps and water jugs. He was so kind and went to a lot of trouble to catch us.
We meet up with our family, grab N and head for our group meet-up.
We love Paris. We’ve spent a lot of time in Paris. AdventureMan and I agree that our next experience blows us out of the water. It is thrilling, and it brings history to life in an intense way – you are a participant!
It is called Eternelle Notre Dame.
If someone told you that you would experience the history of Notre Dame Cathedral, you might go ho-hum. I did.
We were guided downstairs to what I am told used to be an underground parking lot, now a museum and virtual reality area. N went with a couple of her friends, and we were right behind her. You only “see” the persons in your group, but others appear, and we always know which one was N, so we felt comfortable that she was safe.
We were suited up with a backpack thing and helmet, including goggles that covered our entire upper faces. It felt a little creepy but I was curious enough to endure it.
And then the adventure begins! Your medieval guide appears and gives you instructions. You see a path and you follow it, or if you do not, you wait for instruction. Sounds simple enough, right? At the beginning, it is.
You are surrounded by medieval Paris. You meet the craftsmen and watch them work. They are just beginning to build the cathedral.
Now I will stop telling you about the experience or I may tell you too much. Perhaps I am too suggestible. My husband said I nearly gripped his hand off! There were times I could NOT move forward, I was so afraid. I knew this was make-believe, but my lying eyes told me otherwise. Once, I groaned aloud!
It was one of the most memorable, intense Paris experiences I have ever had, and I feel like I was there, all the many years they spent building the cathedral. I had no idea! When I can re-visit the real Notre Dame of Paris, it will be with new eyes and new appreciation!
(I screenshotted these images off TripAdvisor, which sells tickets for this visit.)
N had a great time, too. We met up with her parents and then parted company. Here is the truth – sometimes we are bad examples to our grandchildren. We skipped the walk. We told the guide we knew how to return to the ship, and we went to a cafe to sit and talk about our Eternelle Notre Dame experience. What was really fun was that the walking group went by and we waved at our family from our cafe’ table.
We had an iced lemon drink, leisurely found our way to the metro/train station, and caught the train to Javel. It was a short walk to the ship, where we met up for a lively dinner.
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