Morocco Malta and the Med: Day 2 Barcelona and Monserrat
Traveling with Viking passengers is to see ourselves in others. After a good nights sleep, we are up at dawn to have breakfast before our guide, James will arrive to pick us up at 8:15 to get us to Monserrat and in to see the Black Virgin before the crowds.
Too late. When we get to the restaurant, there is already a line of Viking early-birds in front of us. Fortunately, it is a large restaurant, and we all get seated quickly. The buffet breakfast is lovely, all kinds of cereals, breads and condiments, fresh egg dishes, lots of breakfast meats. It seems to be there is something to make everyone happy.
The restaurant is on the top floor and has views to die for in every direction. I’ve been trying to get to the roof deck and pool, but it seems it can only be accessed through the restaurant, and only during certain times. I kept trying. I never made it. It may be because it is mid-November and most people aren’t looking for a pool.
We booked with Autos Driver through Viator. Our driver and guide, James, showed up promptly at 8:10 (we were ready) in a suit with a slick shiny new Mercedes. We were impressed. He explained what we were seeing as we exited Barcelona to head for the serrated mountains (the meaning of the name Monserrat), and made it all relatable by putting it all in context. We really liked James. The statue below is in the industrial area.
Looking back toward Barcelona and the sun rising through the haze.
You can see why it is called “serrated mountains.”
We stopped for a stretch break at Santa Cecilia, a former nunnery, now an event venue.
On the left is James, who made this day so special for us, telling us the inside stories of Barcelona.
Our first view of Monserrat is of St. Michael’s Cross:
Tickets have to be reserved, and are for certain times only. James was looking out for us, contacted us ahead of time, picked up the tickets and had us to the line with plenty of time. He showed us where to meet with him after the tour of the Church and the Black Virgin.
It’s November. We had thought it would not be too crowded early in the morning, but it was full of Japanese tour groups, mostly school groups. We wedged between two groups as we waited to see the Black Virgin.
At last, one at a time, we are allowed about 10 seconds with the Black Virgin. The legend is that this Madonna and Child was carved in the earliest days of Christianity. Said to have been moved to Monserrat (home to the Goddess Venus) in the 700s to avoid Moorish explorers, she was found underground and was to be transported to some church but was not able to be moved, so they built a monastery around her.
You can see an orb in the Virgin’s hand. One at a time each Japanese school girl put both hands on the orb and looked solemn while one of the teachers (?) chaperones (?) guides (?) took a photo of her.
We had enough time to walk part way to Saint Michael’s Cross:
AdventureMan wanted to have some good cheese to have on board so we could have wine and cheese before dinner, and he found a really good one! We enjoyed this cheese so much, dry, nutty, salty, kind of grainy, and delicious!
We met up with James, had a great drive back to Barcelona as he answered all our questions, we talked ecology, climate change, cultural differences and economics. We talked about the impact of COVID-19 on our countries and social practices. Before he let us out in downtown Barcelona, he gave us directions to the oldest chocolate shop in Barcelona, not far off Las Ramblas, but far enough that not a lot of tourists get there.
Love these old signs on Las Ramblas.
Last time we were in Barcelona, we had grabbed empanadas at the Boqueria, along with fruit drinks, and AdventureMan wanted a particular spicy beef empanada we had the last time. We darted up and down the aisles until we found the exact shop, and both bought spicy beef enpanadas, and fruit drinks, then found a place to sit at the little plaza behine the Boqueria to eat in peace, except for the pigeons.
We ate lightly so that we could have hot chocolate at the oldest chocolate shop in Barcelona, very close to the Boqueria. The name is La Granja, and it is a couple streets behind La Rambla and the Boqueria.
It was delicious and fun. When we got there, they wanted to make sure we knew they were closing for the mid-day break. We assured them we only wanted chocolate, and creme brulee, and they welcomed us. We loved the place, with customers coming in for cut meats and other kinds of delicacies, we don’t really know what because we don’t speak Spanish except for a few words. It didn’t matter. The chocolate was thick and smooth and like eating a little bit of heaven, if heaven to you is chocolate, thick dark chocolate, as it is to me. The creme brulee’ is to be tapped with the spoon to break the crust before you eat.
On a total sugar high, we head out to find the metro and head back to the hotel for a nap. The metro takes us half a block from our hotel – why don’t all cities have great public transportation like Paris and Barcelona?
We are ready for a nap 😊.
Christmas Markets on the Elbe: Prague Day One
Bags outside the door by 0645, down to breakfast, back to the room to brush teeth, and get ready for the bus ride to Prague. It was a longer ride than I had anticipated, through snowy, icy roads and I regretted having both orange juice AND coffee with breakfast. I was eager to get off the bus in Prague quickly and find the nearest ladles’ room, and thanking God for getting me there in a timely fashion.
The Prague Hilton is huge. I am so thankful it is mid-winter, not even the peak of winter travel, and that it is not crowded. There is a large poker tournament going on. The Viking people have their own desk and helpers, we always know where to go with a question or a problem.
We set off immediately for our Prague tour, briefly on the bus which dropped us off near the Charles Bridge.
Our guide uses a Quiet Voice system, so we have ear-pieces on. We can hear her from about thirty feet or less, so while we are having our picture taken, we are also listening to her tell us stuff. Mostly to stick together as a group. There must be a hundred groups crossing the Charles Bridge.
So many tourists! You can’t imagine! We have crossed this bridge before, other years, even on New Year’s Eve Day, with our son – never like this. Prague is discovered.
We walked, crossed a small portion of the bridge with lots of tourists, walked a little around Old Prague – not going inside, and then, just around when the Astrological clock would be striking, then the guide took us down in the basement of the Bethlehem church for some kind of exhibition – we were free to use the restrooms and warm up, but we had hardly been out long enough to get cold. As we left the church, we told the guide we would leave and make our way back to the hotel on our own.
We eat the Bulgarians lunch
Ah! Free at last! We love roaming, and we were hungry. We found a wonderful restaurant, Deer, just about full, but room for us.
It was beautiful, and the beer was good, and we ordered deer, a consommé, and deer ravioli for me and a “fallow” deer for my husband. My consommé arrived, and it was light and delicious. Then our meals arrived, (sorry, we were hungry and forgot to take photos) and my husband’s was right and mine was not, but it looked great so I figured we might have been misunderstood and we ate our meals with delight.
As it came time to pay, the waitress brought our bill and AdventureMan looked it over – it was the original order, AdventureMan told her I had received, and eaten the more expensive meal, and would she adjust the bill so we would pay (more) for what we had eaten.
With some confusion, she went away, came back with the corrected bill – and told the people at the next table that there had been some confusion, and we had received their meal. We apologized profusely, and we were all laughing. They asked the waitress to please hurry the same meal to them and we had a great conversation, as we waited, them asking us if it had been a good meal and us assuring them it had been delicious. So much goodwill. They didn’t hate us for eating their lunch!
We found the main market, at the Clock Tower, and wandered around.
I checked Google and there was a bus from right at the market directly to our hotel, Bus 194, and we caught it. How cool is that? Equally cool is that in Prague, public transportation is free if you are 70 or older (some say 65). You MUST have ID with you to prove your age, but you ride FREE!
It took us through the narrow back streets of Prague, past interesting hotels and restaurants way off the beaten track. At one point the driver had to get out and move a garbage can in his way – the streets were VERY narrow. It was great fun and dropped us near the Prague Hilton.
We rested – we had already done 15,000 steps. We wanted to head to another Christmas Market. Confident we now understood the bus system, I asked Google Maps how to get to bus 135, but every bus that arrived with that number said (something in Czech) and DO NOT GET ON THIS BUS so we figured out they were going out of service. After waiting over an hour for one in service, we were really cold so we came back and ate a thoroughly mediocre expensive meal at the Hilton. Another day with over 17,000 steps – it has become routine on this trip 😁.
Hidden Gems in Pensacola: Update 2023
It’s July in Pensacola, hot, humid, and lazy. The beaches are crowded with vacationers, mostly from landlocked Southern states; most of the international visitors head for Miami or Tampa/St. Pete where there is a more active beach life. Pensacola is more laid back and likes it that way. The boat launch parking lots are overflowing. The bridge to the beach is at its busiest. The Blue Angels flew this weekend to thrill the hearts of thousands of viewers.
Things change slowly in Pensacola, but they DO change. One of the things that change is restaurants. In the midst of COVID, in 2020, I wrote Hidden Gems; Restaurants We Love in Pensacola. It still gets a lot of hits from beach-goers, but it needs to be updated.
These are our go-to restaurants in Pensacola, for people who love eating out. Even our dearest friends and family have other preferences, restaurants they like that we find are not for us, so there is no objectivity whatsoever in our choice of these restaurants, only that we find ourselves choosing them over and over – mostly because their food tastes really good, and that matters to us. Most of them are very very casual.
My all-time favorite, Siam Thai, is closed until later this month so the staff can “honor their ancestors”. I love the freshness of their food, as well as the tastiness of each and every dish. Some days it will be their Steak or Chicken salads, another day it will be chicken and basil or Swimming Rama. It’s all good. They expect to re-open on July 23, 2023 but check online because they are family owned and operated and not always open just because we expect them to be.
Our next very favorite is Kingfisher. Again, not fancy. Pensacolians tell us it used to be a famous sandwich shop. Now, they have some of the best, most creative food in town. I would call it a Michelin red R, good local food at reasonable prices. You can’t go wrong with their chowder or their gumbo. Their hamburger is astonishingly memorable. Their fish platters are always good, and they do a winter squash salad that I cannot resist (in season). Our son loves their Alabama White BBQ chicken (so do I). You can have sandwiches, or you can have salads, or you can have full platters; they are all good. (Edit: To our horror and grief, Kingfisher closed in October 2023. We can only hope it’s because they are negotiating another location.)
Sometimes Kingfisher gets really busy and we can’t get in. Our next choice is nearby, Nick’s Boat House. It has a great location, right on the water, with pelicans, herons, and an occasional Blue Angel flying by. Their food is standard Pensacola fare, Oyster or Shrimp Po’Boys, seafood platters, gumbo, a really nice lobster bisque, several main course salads, and a dynamite Salmon Piccata that draws me to Nick’s every time.
Also on the map above you will see Jaco’s, also good for seafood, and charcuterie, and is probably the best restaurant location in Pensacola. Outdoor seating is available and gives you time to spend with the gorgeous view. Jaco’s is a happening place. We love their salmon burgers.
I love the tuna at Fin and Fork, probably the only place in town where I eat mashed potatoes, because I shouldn’t, but the Fin and Fork mashed potatoes, served with the seared tuna, are too delicious to resist. They have really really good oysters, and a creme brulee, also irresistable. Their gumbo and bisque are exquisite.
Hard to describe, quirky, and in the heart of Old Pensacola is Juan’s Flying Burritos. It’s not Mexican, or it’s sort of a Mexican food format gone wild. If you expect Mexican, you will be disappointed. I have two great favorites, The Three Little Pigs tacos, and the Vietnamese Tacos. The Three Little Pigs are small tacos, filled with three different kinds of pork, each so delicious I cannot pick a favorite. It’s very creative, and if you order the right thing, you will love it.
Pensacola is blessed with some very fine Middle Eastern cooking, code-word Mediterranean so no one gets goosey. Zeytouna makes our hearts sing, especially the stuffed vegetables, the moussaka, the salads, oh my the grilled halloumi. Sister to a favorite restaurant we love in Baton Rouge, Al Basha, a meal at Zeytouna yields two or three more meals at home, so while it can be a little pricey for Pensacola, it dollar cost averages out to be very reasonable – as well as delicious.
When we gather as a family, it is often at Ichiban, on North Davis, because there is something for everyone. Recently, we have also started going to Kalbi Ichiban, on West Garden. While the menus are similar, Kalbi Ichiban has a younger vibe – a bar area, larger spaces, harder surfaces, and more options on the menu. Last time at Kalbi Ichiban, I had their bulgogi, which was very good, so much it served for several meals. At Ichiban, we usually have a bento box, because we love the variety.
For sheer comfort, for the best Vietnamese Pho and noodle dishes, and when I am sick, Tudo’s is our go-to. Always full of local Vietnamese residents, UWF students and faculty, and medical staff from West Florida Hospital, Tudo’s has great summer rolls (sometimes called salad rolls; the uncooked rice paper wrapped noodle and shrimp rolls served with peanut sauce) and huge bowls of noodles with barbecued chicken, pork, shrimp, egg rolls in any combination you want. I swear that if I start to feel sick, their chicken wonton soup, which we buy by the quart without the wontons, heals me almost immediately.
For quick but delicious sandwiches, and for a great choice of salads, soups, and desserts, there is our old favorite, the New Yorker Deli. On Tuesdays, they have Crayfish Etoufee’ which they also might have on Wednesday if there is any left. They always have the irresistible Double Lovin’ Spoonful chocolate cake, The Best Reuben in Town, and other thick, satisfying sandwiches and pizzas. The place is usually packed with locals and their families and all their best friends, so get there early. If the weather is nice, eat out on the deck.
On this same map above, you will also see the Publix Supermarket at Gulf Breeze and one on Cervantes in East Hill. Publix has a huge selection of take-away foods, all prepared, and also makes great sandwiches. You get to choose your own bread and toppings to go with the sandwich you order, and the ladies who make these sandwiches do a really great job.
Shoreline Deli and Joe Patti’s are both along West Main. Shoreline Deli has a great Deli which will make hot and cold sandwiches, and huge delicious salads while you wait. Waiting is the fun part – Shoreline Deli has the best olive oil in town, a huge spice selection, local honey, imported snacks and specialties, and a huge variety of chips and sweets. Joe Patti’s is a self-advertised foodie destination – and it really is. The best time to avoid the long lines waiting for fresh seafood is early in the morning, unless it is Christmas Eve Day, and there will already be a long line when the store opens. They make a lot of great specialties – Spicy Tuna Dip, seafood salad, fresh hot gumbo and chowder, really nice French, Sourdough, and Ciabatta. We all shop at Joe Patti’s!
You will also have noticed on several of these maps the Palafox Market on Palafox Street, which is open on Saturday mornings with featuring local farmers, craftspeople, old folk singers, freshly baked bread, pastries and pies, fresh coffee and homemade mustards (and other condiments) – a great place to browse on a Saturday morning, to people watch and to get a little feeling for the Pensacola Parade Culture – be sure to look up at those trees overhead to see how many beads you can see stranded there from a plethora of parades. Both Saint Michael’s Basilica and Christ Church Episcopal are often open for tours when the Market is open, giving you a chance to take a peek at these two historical Pensacola churches.
El Asador, one of our nation’s best food trucks is still semi-permanently located at the Shell Station at 7955 North Davis Highway. It’s worth the drive, and it’s worth the stand in line. The smell of the grilling chicken is intoxicating. We like to order the chicken platter, but we also love their tacos and burritos. This is some of the best Mexican food in Pensacola.
The restaurants we have told you about above are not the ones you will find written up in major American travel magazines, but they are the tried and true local places where Pensacolians eat on a daily basis. There are some great higher-end places to eat, also, and below I will share our favorites. True classics – they were on my first list of Hidden Gems, even though they are not so hidden :-).
For steaks, you can’t beat McGuires Irish Pub for a reliable great meal and great service, every time. Be prepared to wait – McGuire’s sometimes has wait times of an hour or more. A local secret – go for lunch on a day when there is a parade or a Blue Angels show, and you can get right in.
Flounders, on the beach, is also a McGuire’s restaurant and has the same kind of high-quality reliability. We go there often; we love their chowder. For a Gulf-coast restaurant, they also do a great job of searing salmon to top a Caesar salad. I love their Baja tacos and just about anything they grill.
For a great night out, for us, it is still The Grand Marlin. We’ve never had a bad meal there, nor had bad service. I go for their TGM New Orleans Shrimp, or for Cioppino or Bouillabaisse when they have it. They do everything right.
For a quiet, private celebration, or when we have special friends in town, we drive out to Fisherman’s Corner; you make a right turn just before the Theodore Baars bridge going over to Perdido Key. There is a huge apartment – or condo (?) complex going up on your right, then a Dog care salon, and then a place that looks like a bait shop, except there are cars parked everywhere and people holding drinks waiting to get in. The food is always fresh. If they haven’t been able to find it fresh, they’ll tell you when you sit down that it is not available. We have never had a bad meal here, and we have had some good wine.
If you took a look at the previous hidden gems, you will see that these last four were on that list too. A classic is a classic. These four restaurants thrive because of their focus on the entire experience. They make people feel welcome and they take pride in serving the best food.
Bon appetit!
(Suggestions and recommendations are always welcome 😊)
Barcelona to Abu Dhabi: Safaga to Luxor
We docked in an industrial port in Sfaga, no getting off and wandering around. We have breakfast in our room, beautiful, quick and easy. We have to wait a while until the Egyptians have examined and stamped our passports.
All departing passengers gather in the Nautica Lounge – we are number 20, one of the last to go. We go through exit procedures (facial scan, Egyptian inspection) and discover we are on a small bus, a group of only eight people, for the next two days. We don’t know any of them, but we feel very fortunate to be with a very small group. We are happily surprised. We had thought we might be on a large bus with coughing and sneezing people and need to mask.
This is a very popular location. There are all kinds of trips going out, to various locations for various amounts of time. The buses are all lined up, and the immigration center we all have to go through is on the far left.
Another happy surprise is that the weather is cool on the ship, and cool in the morning, cool enough to need a scarf. (This night, for dinner, I will need a sweater over my dress.) This is a happy surprise. I really hate being too hot.
We are on a two day trip, today and tomorrow with an overnight in Luxor.
Almost immediately, Merv, our guide, has us introduce ourselves. We are traveling with Steve and Becky from Austin, Dave and Patricia, from Toronto, and Tom and Deb from Vancouver. We have a long drive, through the stark mountain area of Egypt (!) and then along the luscious, fertile valley of the Nile, where I take almost all my photos. Steve and AdventureMan discover they have lived just miles from one another. All our fellow passengers are well-traveled. Becky has some mobility issues, but does a great job and never complains.
When you think of Egypt, do you think of mountains? I never did. This first stretch we cover is full of desert and stark mountains, and I envision Moses, shepherding for his father-in-law and his encounter with the great I Am, in a bush that burned and was not consumed. I could imagine long treks with the sheep to find enough to eat, and long days to think about things.
My Arab friends always laughed when I would tell them their countries reminded me of growing up in Alaska, but there are wide open stretches that go on forever and harsh climates. In Alaska, you dress for the cold and stay inside through the worst of it; in the Middle East, you dress for the heat and stay inside for the worst of it, and you spend as much time as you can outdoors when temperatures are mild as you can. I am a big fan of dark skies and myriad stars, both Alaska and deserts provide food for my soul.
We make a stop at a rest stop along the way. We were supposed to travel in a caravan, with security, for our protection, but we were last to leave and our smaller bus did not have onboard facilities. It was really nice being able to get out and walk around, but it cost us in terms of convenience later on. Because we had lost our convoy, the police kept stopping us and questioning our credentials. They found us a curiosity. Finally, at one point, a police van led us several miles and vouched for our right of passage. It was an interesting experience. Our tour guide was relentlessly aggressive with the police, and rather than offending them, they were respectful to her.
Our tour guide was a formidable woman, one of the senior tour guides in Egypt. Her assignment with us was her second to last career assignment; she is retiring. What I loved about having her as a guide was that she was so knowledgeable. She filled us in on politics, social issues, and current events, as we drove a couple hours through the rural areas en route to Luxor.
My geographical knowledge of Egypt was slight. Now I feel really stupid. I had kind of thought the Red Sea and the Nile were somehow related, but the Nile is inland from the Red Sea. The micro-climates inland are lush and fertile.
You might see the donkey, but the reason I took this photo is that in our times living in Middle Eastern countries, we often saw rugs drying at service stations, especially those with car washes. The car washes get them nice and clean and have room to hang them so that they can dry. This is a nice, non-humid day, perfect for having carpets cleaned.
One of the things we learned is that Egypt has become more conservative with so many Egyptian men working as guest laborers in Saudi Arabia and other Gulf countries. Egyptian women were at one time freer and better educated and had more civil rights than now. Husbands and fathers returning from stricter countries enforced stricter standards on their daughters, wives, and family members. Interesting, hmmm?
Here is our friendly police escort below:
This is one of my favorite photos – these gourds, which are some kind of pumpkin or squash, are in season, and there are piles of them everywhere! I remember in Tunisia when pumpkins came into season, they were huge! In the market, you bought them by the slice, huge, thick, meaty pumpkins, one of the essential ingredients in couscous.
I remember in Qatar when the Queen found laundry hanging on balconies inelegant and banned it; had a law passed which forbid it. And yet – where were the apartment dwellers to dry their laundry? Laundry continued on the balconies, and I never heard of anyone arrested for it.
Look at this wall, made of recycled broken pots and clay.
There is a line behind the waiting man of little tuk-tuk taxis, many with curtains, with one driver in front and passengers in the back.
We go directly to the hotel once we get to Luxor, check-in, go to our rooms and clean up, then have lunch, which is an international buffet. That means mostly western food. Eating western food in the heart of Egypt was a surprising disappointment to me. I totally get it. Luxor is a huge destination, and Egypt needs the tourist currency. Hotels have to please a large number of people. We were yearning for a good felafel.
The truth is, I did not have high hopes for this part of my cruise. The last time we were in Egypt, we were staying with friends, in Cairo, and we had great adventures. We have actually been to Luxor and Karnak before, and I discovered that I did not like going down into tombs; to me, they are very musty and give me a claustrophobic feeling. I stay above ground and take photos.
I had no idea we would have such a great tour guide; she is a blessing, so full of information and opinions. I don’t always have to agree with her to like her. I respect her! I also had no idea we would be spending so much time traveling through villages where people live their normal lives, and I love it. I’m finding in general the tourist experience is restrictive; we are at the mercy of other people’s schedules, other people’s timing, and where other people find it expedient to take us.
This group is different. The people with whom we are traveling in this small group are all very respectful of being on time and not going missing – in fact, if anyone is guilty of going missing, it is me. I tend to wander off. I make it a point to keep Merv informed about where I will be and to always be on time for departures. She gives me latitude. She allows me to wander – here there and everywhere. 🙂
And, as random as life is, I am so thankful not to be too hot. I am having a great time. I got to go through the Suez Canal! I am going back to Wadi Rum! I am going to sail past Saudi Arabia, and Sudan, and Eritrea, and Djibouti, and Yemen en route to Oman! I am a happy woman!
The Dordogne: Lost in Space, Font de Gaume and L’Augerie Base
That night, at Domaine de la Vitrolle, in the middle of the night I heard a bumping sound and my husband was not in bed. I said “Is that you?” and my husband’s voice came back saying “I’m lost! I don’t know where I am!” It was SO dark in our room that somehow, he had missed the bed and was off wandering in the sitting part of the suite and couldn’t orient himself.
It was dark, and it was quiet. I turned on a little flashlight, and he laughed at how disorienting it was to be in a strange space and not to know which way to turn.
The next morning, I was awake early (we sleep so well when it is dark, and quiet) so I took a bath in the great big tub and watched the day dawn through the stained glass windows of the bathroom. I had the windows open, and could hear the birds awake, and some tractor off in the hills head up to harvest the last of the grapes. It was so peaceful, and so lovely.
First, I need to tell you how very kind all the French people have been to us. We are often asked if we are not afraid the French will be rude to us, and I think maybe once or twice in the many years we have traveled in France, maybe someone has been having a bad day or was rude, but nothing I can remember. Mostly, we are delighted by how very helpful the French are with us.
Many times, I am taken for French. People stop me on the street and ask for directions, and I laugh and tell them (in French) that I am a tourist, and an American, and they just laugh.
On this trip, information is gold. The limo driver who took us to the train station told us to gas our car at the Intermarche or Carrefour, not at the regular gas stations, because the gas stations charge a lot more. We listened! He was right! The hotel manager at Domaine de la Vitrolle told us about the super markets, so we didn’t have to eat every meal out, especially at night when we would have to eat late. What luxury, to eat French foods in our own room, at our own pace, and as lightly as we chose!
Martin Walker/Bruno, Chief of Police particularly mentioned Font de Gaume in Les Eyzies, one of the very rare opportunities to see original cave art, which moves me greatly, and is a priority for me. But Font de Gaumes only allows a few people in every day, under strict conditions, so our breath, body temperature and sweat won’t impact on the fragile cave art.
I try to reserve tickets online, but it says it is not possible, so we are up, have breakfast and out the door by nine to be sure we are first in line and get to see Font de Gaume. Sadly, what I didn’t know was that we would have to leave our cameras outside, you can’t even take them in.
We get to Les Eyzies, and Font de Gaume way before it even opens, but we are far from the first ones there. They have benches with seat numbers on them, and we are close to the very end, like 48 and 49.
While we waited – and this line was just a line to get a number to buy your tickets, I saw this frieze over a door on a house across the street:
We got a number, and were told that there was only one English speaking tour and it was at 11:00, in 45 minutes. Or there was another one late in the afternoon. We chose the 11:00 tickets, thankful just to be able to get in.
At around 10:30 they said we could walk up to where we would meet our guide. We walked up and there was a group, but the guide said “This is a French group, you are in the next group!” and she was right – she already had 18 people.
In our group, it was interesting, there were only six real English speaking people, two from Australia, two others from the US, and us, and the rest were all other-languages – Portuguese, Spanish, Greek, etc. but people who could speak some English and who didn’t want to wait until later in the day to take the tour. We all had a really good time.
Here is a map of the cavern we will enter and the sights we will see:
The setting is spectacular. These mountains and hills and caves are thousands of years old.
And here we are, me with my bright shining face because we are going into Font de Gaume. I will share with you a secret – I am mildly claustrophobic, but I know how to keep it sort of under control. But I was glad to have this photo in my camera – all cameras had to be left in a special locked space – in case there was some kind of disaster, and they needed to be able to identify those trapped in / destroyed by a collapse in / etc. the cave. Drama drama drama I was glad what might be our last photo showed us smiling and happy.
We had a superb guide. She spent a lot of time showing us detail. She had a great group, we asked a lot of questions, and the more we asked, the more detail she gave us. It just kept spiraling, and we were all really serious and awed by what we were seeing. I could have stayed forever, and I just wish I had been able to take a photo for you, but we were in almost total dark, only the guide had a little (infrared?) (Ultraviolet?) (both?) flashlight with which she could show us the drawings. As we would go through some sections, she could turn on very dim lights, and she had to warn us constantly to watch our heads for outcroppings of rock.
Visiting Font de Gaumes was a thrill. I wish the same thrill for you. Here are a couple images, not my own, I found on the internet:
There are many bison, some deer, wolf, horses and mammoths.
Our wonderful guide is showing us the primitive kinds of pigments used to do the drawings in the caves, colors from stones, chalk, ashes, some mixed with liquid, some made into powder and blown onto the wall – and it must have been almost pitch dark. Imagine . . . .
In one of Martin Walker’s books, Bruno and his friends gather for a wedding feast at L’Augerie Basse, a restaurant built into a cave in the side of a mountain. You have a short hike to get there, but oh, what fun. (I want you to see where L’Augerie Basse is, and where it is in relation to Les Eyzies and Le Bugue)
Once again, people were very kind. Most of the people in the restaurant were working people, or locals. There was a constant hum of arrival and greeting, departure and farewells. Many people didn’t even look at the menu.
The restroom was not actually in the restaurant, but across the walkway, and I think it was all just bathrooms, not male or female except that some had urinals, but I think you could use either. I didn’t ask, it was all very clean and mostly I wanted to wash my hands. My husband excused himself and before I had a chance to tell him where the bathrooms were (it was not obvious) he left . . . and was gone a long time. He had trouble finding them.
Here is what I ordered:
Here is what my husband ordered:
Mine was pretty much the same, except I had one duck confit, and salad.
Best of all, I found a wine Martin Walker / Bruno Chief of Police recommended, a very local wine I wanted to try. I loved it! Pecharmant:
This was (another one of) the most memorable meals of our trip.
We had a wonderful lunch, and we needed to pack, but neither of us were ready to face that task quite yet. So I said “why don’t we go see St. Alvere, the truffle town? It is just on the other side of Limeuil?” and AdventureMan, always up for an exploration, agreed.
Did I mention the day our marriage survived a two and a half hour drive that ended up taking a whole day? Getting to St. Alvere was like that. I was navigating with Google, and we got on the tiniest, most remote roads. It took a long time to get to there. I never saw a truffle, but it was a gorgeous day, and a beautiful town, and indications that it, too, was on the pilgrimage route to San Diego Compostela.
On our way, we passed farm after farm filled with geese!
Thousands of geese!
The little road of the Pilgrims, above, in St. Alvere.
Now it was my husband’s turn to make a request. He had been very uneasy about our tires; there was a symbol on our dashboard that implied our tires needed more air, and as we were making a longer drive tomorrow, he wanted to add air, and put gas in the car. We headed back to Le Bugue, to the Intermarche, where we knew there was a gas station, and a place where you can clean cars.
We gassed up the car, and then found the car cleaning place. There was a man busy cleaning his car, vacuuming it, and we waited until he was finished and then asked if he knew where there was a machine which added air to tires.
He looked at us as if we were crazy. “It is right here,” he said, pointing to the machine with which he had been vacuuming.
These are the things that try men’s souls. It is not intuitive. Jeton means “token” but does it also mean coin? How does psi translate in French, how will we know how much air to add? We are consulting the car manual, the side of the driver’s door, the machine . . . eventually, we were able to add enough air, without adding too much air.
It is amazing what a major relief accomplishing this simple task gave us. We felt mighty! We had prevailed! We had conquered!
We celebrated with French tartes, little pies, peach for my husband and raspberry for me. AdventureMan discovered the Lego set we bought the day before is now HALF PRICE and he is hopping mad. I speak French, but I do not have the language skill set or the energy, at this point, to try to explain we want a refund. It is late in the day. I convince him to just . . . let it go. 🙂
It is a beautiful afternoon, almost the end of October and we are in short sleeves. We head back to Limeuil to take some shots of the Vezere river joining the Dordogne.
We drove across the Dordogne to take a picture of Limeuil from the other side:
Thank you, Martin Walker, and Bruno, Chief of Police, for intriguing us to visit this gloriously vivid and picturesque locale, with so much to do and to see. Below is the Vezere River joining the Dordogne River.
Bordeaux to Limeuil: “And We are Still Married”
The morning after the race, the major streets in Bordeaux are deserted. AdventureMan and I discovered an ATM just around the corner, and we don’t know how it’s going to work. You’d think we would be jaded by now – we know how to use ATMs in Saudi Arabia, Qatar, Kuwait, Germany, etc. but we have also learned NEVER to take anything for granted. We give ourselves plenty of time. Going slowly and carefully, following the instructions to the letter, we get the funds we need. We’ve also learned never to count on using a credit card, and always to have back up cash.
Just because we love mustard, especially French mustard.
Just down the street, St. Andrews Cathedral.
Again, just because I love this mosaic tile in our hotel, it’s kind of a WOW for me.
Another thrill, I discover that I can make phone calls with my iPhone. I had checked, and was told I could. I know I was able to in Germany last year at the Christmas markets, but again, I never take anything for granted, things change, different countries have different systems, and for me, when I get technology to work, it is something like magic to me. YOU may think it is rational and normal, but I see a million varying factors that can cause the rational to go off track. I danced for joy when I was able to schedule a pick-up by the same limo service that dropped us off.
It was a bit extravagant, but we hate what we call “the bag drag.” The limo picked us up, put our luggage in the trunk and took us directly to Gare Sainte Jean, where he let us off at the front entrance. This is where you catch the train to Paris, or, in our case, where you pick up your rental car.
“So where is Hertz?” my husband asks me, since I made the reservation and double checked to be sure we would have a car just days before we left.
“Ummm . .. here. Here, in the Gare Ste. Jean,” I responded. We are standing there, with our roly bags and our carry bags, and there are no car rental sites in sight. Worse, there are no signs. I ask a couple people, and they don’t know.
We see a sign saying something about “voitures” and head in that direction. As we pass a McDonalds, AdventureMan goes in to ask, and a sweet, delightful little 16 year old comes out to help us. She is truly an angel, practicing her careful English, and so happy to be able to help us. “You are American?” she asks, and when we say “yes” she is all smiles.
“It is in Halle 3,” she tells us. You follow this corridor until you get to Halle 3, then you go downstairs, it is downstairs in Halle 3.”
Halle 3 feels like a mile away. It is a colossal bag drag. The walk goes on and on. Grumble grumble, if I had known, I would have had the driver let us off at Halle 3, and I grumble because it’s my fault. I’m the one who sets these things up, I’m the one who didn’t check where the car rentals might be, grumble grumble, yes, I am hard on myself as I drag my bag.
We have some good luck when we get to the rental place, the man in front of us is finishing up and heading for his car and we are next. It’s going to be more bag drag; we have to go from Halle 3 out these doors, down this sidewalk to the parking garage, then up to the 6th floor. Grumble grumble.
We get there and we love the car, a little silver SUV and not unlike our Rav4s, much of the operating system is analagous. There are a few little things . . . but we take our time, try to figure things out before we leave.
Every marriage has its pressure points. For us, here is where the rubber hits the road. We have to get out on the road. My husband, who does not speak much French, has to get us from the garage to the road. I am navigator, reading my phone and road maps, my job is to help him make the right turns.
It is a disaster. We miss the right exits and have to go back, just to get out of Bordeaux. We end up going the wrong way on the right road, and it takes us miles (kilometres) before we can turn around and go the right way.
We lose about an hour, but it is no big deal because our drive for the day is only about two and a half hours, and we plan to stop here and there and wander, as we do.
Within about twenty minutes, AdventureMan says “isn’t there is smaller road we can take? This isn’t very interesting,” and I agree, we like smaller, more picturesque roads. So i set a course for Eymet, where there is a Sunday market we’d heard about, and follow Google instructions.
One thing catches me by surprise. It is Sunday morning, and there are large groups of bikers. Not the motorcycle kind, these are bicyclists, all in fashionable athletic wear and expensive shoes on sporty bikes, and the groups look like clubs, out for a Sunday ride. I’ve never seen that before, and I love it.
Sigh. Google takes us on some weird paths. Sometimes I am not so sure Google understands French. We are on some very rural roads, not that interesting. It takes us more than two hours to get to Monsegur, where we decide to stop because we are really hungry, and I love the name Monsegur.
This is not the exact route we took. Google kept telling us to take some really small roads. Monsegur (means “safe hill”) is along the route before Eymet.
We turn off to Monsegur to find a place to eat. It is old, very old, and quiet. My husband is tired, and hungry. I am feeling responsible, because we are sort of lost, and not making good time.
We walk around the market square, and we see a couple places that do not look inviting. Then we see two elderly women, well dressed, heading to a place around the corner. We follow them. They head directly into Auberge La Piece de Boeuf.
They slow just enough for me to ask them “Is this a good place to eat?” They are more than polite, they are cordial and gracious, and tell me, slowly so I can understand clearly, that this is the only place in town with really good food, and we must try it.
We are not really meat eaters, although we are not not-meat-eaters, but . . . when in France. There are other things on the menu, but everyone in the restaurant is eating beef, and when you are in a restaurant whose name is A Piece of Beef, it is probably a good idea to eat the specialty of the house. We play by different rules in different cultures.
We are charmed by the interior. And we are delighted when they have a place for us, in a back corner where we can see almost the whole restaurant, what everyone is eating. Within ten minutes, the last table is taken, and we are glad we got there when we did, as we watch people being turned away.
The owner is very gracious. He helps AdventureMan find something he wants to eat. The entree, or starter, is a salad with a very tasty, salty beef. I totally loved it, and actually, it was enough for an entire meal for me. It was really delicious.
And then came my main course – beef. It was a lovely little filet, wrapped in bacon, and I was able to eat about a third of it. I couldn’t eat the potatoes, but I think there were green beans I ate before taking the photo. The meat was fork-tender.
AdventureMan had a different cut of steak, and he ate about half. It was just too much food for us. You are going to have a hard time believing this, because it is unthinkable, but . . . we couldn’t even eat dessert, even though it was included. The meat, the meal, was so rich and so filling, we couldn’t. Also, we were drinking some very fine local wine, a Graves, and we knew we had miles to go before settling in.
I saw the little French ladies who had advised us to eat there as I headed to the ladies room. They greeted me, and I asked them, “can you eat all this food?” because they were eating the same menu we were. They said “yes” but that if you can’t eat it, you can ask for a “boîte” (box) which shocked me; I have never seen French people take home uneaten food, it was once considered uncultured. But now, these refined ladies were telling me I could take it home, and that it would be a pity to waste such fine beef.
They are so proud of their locally sourced beef that they keep a large poster of the farmer and his cows in the restaurant. When I was a child, almost all food in France was local, but now France is as modernized as other countries, and “locally-sourced” is a marketing tool.
We needed to walk off a little of our meal and wine before we started driving again, and Monsegur was a really great place, very quiet, to walk. This is the market square – you will see a lot of market squares in my photos; you’ve already seen Libourne.
I think the above church is Notre Dame de Monsegur, but some of the churches and their interiors start to blur. Some are distinct in my mind, some are less so.
There is another Monsegur, I think farther south, which was an old Cathar stronghold, and where the Cathars were cruelly wiped out as France claimed the southern regions of France for the crown.
This is Rue de Soleil, street of the sun, which I thought funny because it is barely three feet wide and would get very little sun if you wanted to grow a little rose bush or something. It also struck me that my friends with the last name Soule’ may actually be Soleils.
So we finally left Monsegur, and in very short time found Eymat.
This is the old city square in Eymat; I can just imagine people riding up on their horses and letting them drink from the communal fountain, hitching them to posts around the square. Probably on market day, there were carts and peddlers.
I suspect these old timbered houses are sort of fire-traps, but they do give atmosphere to the old villages.
There was a beautiful old mill, a working mill, on the river in Eymat.
An old (castle?) enclosure in Eymat, with a Donjon – Dungeon!
Love this door, which is only maybe five feet high. But I love that now I know those nail studs are there to destroy the axe that tries to destroy the door.
I’ve apologized to my husband that what was supposed to be a sort, easy drive has turned out to be longer and more complicated, and he laughed. He put his arm around me and said “And we’re still married.” LOL, I suppose there is something to be said for surviving challenges for all these years together.
Great Adventure: Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks Trip Map
This is an overview of the Yellowstone and Glacier National Parks great adventure 🙂
Before we even checked in to our hotel in Bozeman, we hit the Walmart. I had broken a part of my sunglasses, and the Walmart had an optical shop, where a very kind optician wouldn’t even charge me for fixing them. At the same time my glasses were being fixed (just a little screw) we picked up “car food.” Everyone has their own ideas of what that might mean, but for us it meant peanut butter and crackers, apples, little oranges, wasabi peas, roasted peanuts, chocolate, ice cube gum, Ghost Pepper Rice Chex mis, and some bottled water which we refilled from the faucets in our room. Wyoming and Montana water was really cold and delicious. We also picked up a few paper plates for microwaving. We had brought plastic utensils with us.
I learned several things about myself this trip; I can’t begin to assign levels of importance. I learned that while I am fit, and can still hike and travel well, I am comparatively more fit in Florida than I am in Wyoming and Glacier National Parks. There, I am about average. There are a lot of women my age still hiking and moving comfortably.
I learned I can hike in my sandals, and I much prefer it. I know we are supposed to wear closed toe shoes while hiking, but they make my feet . . . tired. Unfree. I have great sandals, and I hike in them. My feet didn’t get cold, even hiking in freezing temperatures. If I really needed to, I could wear socks with my sandals. My feet don’t like being confined 🙂
I learned that the lighting in my house is low, and that I have more wrinkles than I thought I had. I’m not sure how much I care. When I am out hiking, I don’t care at all, it is only when I am walking into a social situation that I even think about it.
I learned that AdventureMan is still my favorite travel partner; he is almost always game for anything I suggest, he doesn’t mind stopping and watching animals for a long time, he likes to eat really good food, and he is mostly patient with me when I make a navigational mistake. When we get to someplace, he almost always appreciates the research that went into making this a really cool stop. Occasionally, when the hotel or experience is not what I would have hoped, he is philosophical about it, and so it matters little. He comes up with some good suggestions, like the Rocky Mountain Museum, and going back to a very expensive restaurant we loved. I like everything optimal. It doesn’t always happen, and I am a pragmatist, I know everything can’t always be optimal.
Return to Rudesheim: Christmas Markets Along the Rhine
After spending the night on board the Grace, we head out the next morning, not by boat, but by bus, for Rudesheim.
Rudesheim, as I was in high school in Germany, and later as a military wife, was a place we avoided for one simple reason. We were residents, and Rudesheim was full of tourists. Occasionally, when we had house guests who wanted to visit a quaint town, we might take them to Rudesheim, or to Bingen, across the river, but rarely – there are so many wonderful, less visited villages with fabulous wines we could visit. When we lived in Wiesbaden, we were up and down the Rhine all the time.
Now, we are relaxed and decide to just sink into the tourist role. We are also not bus tour people, but the buses are due to the historic low water levels on the Rhine. You can’t fault a cruise company for the water levels in the river after an unusually dry summer and fall. While we had some drizzle, even some small sprinkles, we never saw a heavy rain, even during this trip.
Driving along, we were shocked by what we saw:
This is what is left of the mighty Rhine near the Lorelei.
Arriving in Rudesheim, I took a quick shot across the river to Bingen, where we have visited many times, drinking wonderful Rhine wines, back in the day when we drank a lot of German wines :-). Now, I wish I could go visit Bingen for the honor of Hildegard of Bingen, a great musician of the church.
We started out in Rudesheim at the Music Museum, a collection from all over Europe of mechanical music machines gathered carefully together. What a magnificent obsession! The collector would hear a rumor of a machine, and travel to Prague, or to some small village in Germany, or wherever the rumor took him, buying old, broken machines at a good price, freighting them back to his home, restoring and repairing them until they were back in prime condition.
After the music museum, it was time for lunch. We have to give Tauck Tours a lot of credit. Most tourist companies contract for a “good enough” meal, and when we heard “a typical German meal” we had thought we might go off on our own, as we often do, but the idea of lunch at The Rudisheim Schloss (Castle) intrigued us. We were glad we chose to join the group; the meal was done well, starting with a carrot soup and a good traditional German salad, then a schnitzel made with good meat, accompanied by potatoes (I think) and bottles of very nice wine. At each place was also a cup, a gift of the house, in which we could have infinite refills of the Christmas gluewein, spiced wine, all day long.
We aren’t used to eating so heavily, so we skipped dessert (a gorgeous apple strudel with warm vanilla sauce) and headed for the funicular which would take us up to the Denkmal, a memorial built to honor the German dead from (a war?) (wars in general?) They gave us warm blankets to keep us warm in the little bucket we rode up in. It took about ten minutes.
Views from the flying bucket, down into Rudesheim:
View up the hill to the Denkmal – sorry for the flat cloudy sky.
We bought a few small Christmas gifts to bring back, and the shop owner asked us if we had come on a ship, and we explained “yes” – and “no.” They were concerned with the low levels, that it would affect the crowds that normally come to the famous Christmas markets. Fortunately, just as our trip was ending in Basel, the heavens opened, the rains fell, and the waters rose to their normal levels – and more.
In the shop below, the Poste, I found a map of the Rhine River all the way from its beginning in the mountains in Switzerland all the way to its outlet near Amsterdam. I hid it from AdventureMan, knowing it would fit in his stocking. When it came time to wrap, I couldn’t find it and figured I had already wrapped it, but it didn’t show up. It was only months later I thought to check my suitcase, and there it was. It was fun for him to get it, even so late, and he is still having fun with it.
So after wandering around, we decide to go back to the Rudisheimer Schloss and have some kaffee und kuchen, and the waitress tells us “it’s happy hour” for the desserts. She brings us this one lovely Cherry waffle, and oh, it is so yummy, we share it happily. The whipped cream is tinted green, and has pistachios sprinkled on it. We eat it all.
Then, she cheerfully puts another at our place. It would be rude, and wasteful, not to eat it, don’t you think?
We just laughed. We don’t often eat dessert, and we’ve more than walked it off already. It was totally yummy, even the second time around.
This is one of my favorite pictures. The sun is starting to set, it’s getting time to meet up with the bus taking us back to the ship, and the locals are gathering to drink a cup of gluewein and swap news. It feels like a village again.
When you take a tour, there are just things you don’t know until they happen. This time, as we leave, we board a ferry which takes us across to Bingen. Maybe Google Earth has told them that the autobahn on the Bingen side can get us back to Koln faster than the one on the Rudesheim side, down which we came in the morning.
I loved ending my day this way. On a darkened, quiet bus full of happy tourists who had experienced a very good day, this little Seattle girl saw this on the way back to the ship:
I was an early Amazon addict; it was just so handy. I remember the first year I was a member, they sent us all Amazon.com coffee mugs. Just once. It never happened again. I treasured that mug, until it went the way of all mugs . . .
Accidental Early Adaptor
Yesterday was a stressful day. It happens every now and then. The last one was when Ragnar-the-street-cat ate the cord to the foot pedal on my Pfaff and I had to get it fixed. While I was in the store, I bought a new Bernina (the price was right and it was the machine I had always wanted, very quiet.) The problem with new technology is that you have to learn new ways of doing things. The old ways don’t work. It stretches you and it stresses you.
AdventureMan has been after me to update my iPhone. We are about to travel again, and he wants us to be accessible. He is right; it is my turn to upgrade. I’ve had my iPhone since 2011, and it works wonderfully. I am happy. It does everything I need it to do . . . except it doesn’t work overseas.
I’ve dragged my feet. To me, a phone is a tool and the tool I have does everything I want it to do, including . . . making me not too accessible. But (audible sigh) I know he is right. What if there is an emergency and they need to contact us?
I am also skeptical. When we upgraded AdventureMan’s phone, we went on the Viking Ocean Cruises Wake of the Vikings trip (which was awesome) and his new phone didn’t work, didn’t get texts, didn’t get phone calls, while my old phone occasionally got texts (I believe it was a Wi-Fi thing for me).
But I also know that AdventureMan is wise; things happen. We often take off from the group, and if our connection changes, if the shuttle back to the ship changes departure time and we are not on it, it causes all kinds of complications.
So Thursday night, AdventureMan said “Our travel time is getting close, and what are you going to do about your phone?”
He is a smart man. He knows how to ask me in an open-mannered way so I don’t go all defensive and nasty because I am feeling cornered and inconvenienced and wary of having to master a new technology when I have a lot of other things going on right now.
“I’m going to do it tomorrow,” I tell him. He is satisfied. He knows that when I say I will do something, he can count on me to do it. I didn’t sleep well; I was full of dread.
So I am working at my computer when AdventureMan gets up and says “So when are you going?” and I know that the day has a limited number of hours and some of them are already committed and I really need to do this, so I do.
When I arrive at the store, the door says the store opens at 10:00, but it is 9:30 and the door is unlocked and people are waiting inside for customers, and tell me to come in, it is a special sale day. I get a really great guy, Mark, and tell him what I need.
He was astonished. “You’re not here for the NEW iPhoneXR?” he asks, like he cannot believe what he is hearing. I tell him what I need, and he says “You need the new iPhoneXR.” He tells me all the things it will do, and then starts showing me how it will work. I tell him what I need is a phone that will work in these countries, and he shows me two ways it can work, both of which I feel comfortable I can do.
And the phone is beautiful. And handy. Within five minutes, I have said “yes” to the phone, have picked out chargers and phone case and protectors, and he is transferring all my phone stuff from the Cloud to my new phone. Of all the things that delight me, at the time, one is that I found a sturdy pink phone case that sparkles; my granddaughter will love it and think I am very cool. It makes me laugh; I am not a woman who would ever have carried a pink sparkly phone in my professional life.
The phone “recognizes” me. I no longer have to put in a code, but I have a back up code for when I need it, like I guess if I’ve been on a four day binge and it doesn’t recognize me, or . . . if I’ve been on an all night flight, which can have the same physical impact as a four day binge (those of you who know me know I am totally joking about the four day binge; I barely drink a whole glass of wine now.)
What I love, having played with it for a day, is that it is so easy. My eyes are really good, except for reading, and the screen of this phone is large and the writing is very readable. There are Tips! They tell me all the things I can do, whether I want to do them or not. There is Siri, whom I don’t intend to use, but I set it up because you never know, I might.
(Big internal debate – who? whom? Siri is not a real person, but I would say “I don’t intend to use her” which means “whom” but who even uses “whom” anymore?)
So I just tried Siri, “Siri, open Google Maps and take me to Cologne, Germany?” and it took a couple steps, but . . . it’s a miracle! It worked!
“Siri, what is the water level of the Rhine River in Cologne, Germany?” (Blah blah blah blah “take a look!”) and the German website, one among many that she found, showed the water level in Koln to be . . . 74 cm. Hmmm. Not really enough to float a ship.
Our trip no longer shows on the company website. We have heard nothing. I am guessing they are both praying for an extended rain and scurrying to arrange alternatives should the water levels not rise high enough to float the boat along some of the narrower passages of the Rhine, which is experiencing historical lows following one of the driest, hottest summers ever in Europe.
AdventureMan and I avoid bus travel like a plague. It is too restricting on people who like to move, it is claustrophobic and not-private. On the other hand, you see a lot more on the road, and since we are really going because we miss the winter in France and Germany, on a bus (or two) we will have more actual time on the ground, eating winter food, wearing our winter clothes, more time to walk, God willing.
And . . . I have a new iPhoneXR, and I actually love it.
Wake of the Vikings: A Short Day in L’Anse Aux Meadows
We have a wake-up call for six o’clock; we are on the first tender headed into L’anse Aux Meadows and we are excited. Who wouldn’t be; just look at this gorgeous morning sky to greet us. I’m good with drama if it is a morning or evening sky.
We wait a long time to get clearance; there is one other boat in town, and it is the National Geographic Explorer. Canadian Customs officials have to go through our paperwork and interview a select few face-to-face. Our 0700 departure is more like 0830.
No rain, so we are thankful, because rain is predicted. We are hoping it will hold off until we have visited the L’anse Aux Meadows Viking Site. Or is it a Native American Camp? For many long years it was believed to be Native American, but a team of archaeologists did a re-look and determined it may well have been an early Norse settlement.
The people in L’anse Aux Meadows go all out to make this interesting for their visitors. They dress in Viking costume to welcome us, and the site we visit has people who are “in character” telling us about their challenging lives in the early settlement, which only lasted maybe ten years.
Below is the woman who organized the buses:
A beautiful statue of the Vikings reaching the new world:
Statue detail of the ship:
There are a series of rooms built together, covered with sod. At one end is an outbuilding with a lathe. This may be someone’s imagination rather than something they really found, like they may have found evidence of an out-building and someone thought “oh it might have been a place where people worked wood, which Vikings did, a lot.” 
These character actors really enjoy playing their roles. They were a hardy lot, and they work hard.
Decoration on entry to middle of houses:
Outside view of houses:
To the far end of the connected rooms is a multiple bedroom, with kinds of clothing they might have worn. The beds are small, the mattresses thin. It would appear this might be where a family might live, or a father keep his unmarried daughters, as it looks like the next room, much larger, is more of a lodge room where unattached men might sleep along the side of rooms or on the floor near the fire.
More clothing, and cooking tools. Sigh. I am guessing mostly women did the cooking, and that those are women’s clothes, and the corner where they speculate women might have worked preparing meals.
I love the room at the far end. I bet some old woman lived there, some old woman who loved fabrics and colors and textures, who would shear the sheep and clean and comb the wool, card the wool and make it into yarn, or thin threads that could be woven into serviceable clothing.
And I am speculating that old woman slept in this chaste little bed among all the supplies for spinning and weaving the wool into yarn and fabrics to clothe the inhabitants. Maybe she even made warm blankets 🙂
Outside the far end of the long house, with an opening for smoke to escape, and light to come in.
This was a forge. What it seems they might have made there was nails, using the most primitive tools and techniques.
We walked back to the center, where we were told to catch the bus, but we are told no, go to this bus-gathering place. Our meet-up seems to have been scheduled about the same time as the National Geographic Explorer meet-up, as their buses are there and . . . ours are not. It is starting to rain.
We wait a long time, and then our bus comes, to take us to another stop, a sort of re-creation of someone’s idea what things may have been like. AdventureMan and I look at each other. He is really tired. He wants to go back to the ship. When the others get off, we stay on, and one other couple asks if the bus can take us to the ship. More and more people figure out that this bus might be going back to the ship, and hop on.
It is really raining now. A tender has just arrived, and a lot of people get off, more people than I would have thought possible. We get on. I learn that a tender can hold a total of 234 people. We head back to the ship. On our way to the elevator, we ask the spa lady if the spa pool is open and she says “YES!” We run upstairs and take off all our clothes and jump into our swim clothes and head down to the hot pool. There is no one else there, just us, rolling around, warming our chilled bodies in the relaxing hot pool and the “ya-kut-zee.” We have a quick lunch, AdventureMan sacks out, and the ship is making rumbles like we are leaving L’anse aux Meadows any minute now. Life is sweet, or as the Captain ends all of his daily announcements from the bridge – All is Well.
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