The End of an Era
“Mr. Adventureman, the papers you have ordered have come!” the manager of the Sultan Center would say, exultantly, to my clueless husband.
“I ordered papers?” he might croak.
“Sir! It is the coated paper for you to use in the microwave!”
“Aha! ” AdventureMan thinks, “my wife has ordered this.”
“Thank you so much!” he responds brightly to the store manager. “We will pick it up shortly!”
Raised with Alaskan frugality, storing for the future, letting nothing go to waste, never knowing when we will ever see (fill in the blank) again, I store my treasures, using them sparingly. Today, I smile ruefully as I use the last of the last roll of waxed paper from Kuwait.
I think microwave technology has improved. I don’t seem to use waxed paper to defend against food explosions as I once did. Or maybe I’ve just gotten smarter?
I’m not buying waxed paper – or a lot of things – the way I once did. I’ve never lived in one place for this long – a place where, if something runs out, I can get a replacement within an hour, or at worst, a couple days. It’s not like when taco chips completely disappeared from every restaurant in Doha for a month, or cream sold out in Tunis as the big Eid approached. The closest we’ve come to a shortage is during COVID, when people hoarded toilet paper for a short time. The lasting result is that my friends discovered the blessing of bidets.
Last month, I actually came close to running out of dish detergent. I have to laugh at myself; in my own funny way, I’m making progress.
Friday Date at Joe Patti’s
Joe Patti’s is a gem, but not an undiscovered gem. We like Joe Patti’s for a lot of reasons, not least because of their great variety of seafood. It is also our go-to for a quiet Friday evening supper of clam chowder or gumbo, fresh-baked sourdough bread, a smoky tuna dip, and assorted gourmet items we love.
Joe Patti’s has been around for a long time, with a prime location on the Pensacola Bay waterfront, a huge pirate ship and a huge-er American flag facing Main Street road, and a genuine Joe Patti-made fishing boat parked next to the store, great for photos. I’ve never seen that ship leave the dock.
It isn’t just tourists and out-of-town guests who get a kick out of Joe Patti’s. I learned on my first Christmas Eve in Pensacola that getting there at 6:30 a.m. was not early enough; most of Pensacola had representatives already in line to pick up seafood they had pre-ordered for Christmas weeks ago. I knew another Patti outlet, which saved my Christmas. The lesson stuck. I order ahead and pick up before Christmas Eve day.
Joe Patti’s has a lot of touristic memorabilia, a deli, a great selection of spices, herbs, condiments. charduterie items, a dessert section, all kinds of frozen delicacies and – an ice cream and coffee bar. And that is where Adventureman and I head after we pick up our chowder and sourdough bread for supper. My first time at the ice cream bar, several years ago, I tried the raspberry sorbet, and was blown away. It was so tasty. I did not let the taste blind me to the sweetness; I watch my sugar intake. I ordered a small cup, and only one scoop. It’s enough. Joe Patti’s charges for ice cream by the weight – Adventureman and I each get a cup of ice cream and we never spend more than $5. What a deal.
Joe Patti’s also has small sample sizes of ice cream free for children – this isn’t just a spoonful; it’s maybe a couple of ounces of ice cream.
You can pay for your ice cream right at the coffee/ice cream counter, and not have to wait in the lines waiting to pay for fresh fish on ice.
We take our ice cream out to the car, which we park on the dock, and eat it as we look out over the inlet, the fishing boat, and the new land fill being created just a short distance across the water from Joe Patti’s.
Friday, we watched an oil services boat come in – holding our breath that a storm wouldn’t blow up suddenly; the circular thing towers over the boat, making for a top-heavy load. Someone knows how that circular wheel functions, but not us. It’s just a novelty, scrolling across our view, entertaining us as we finish our ice cream. Normally, we only see herons and egrets and assorted small water birds flying in and out.
Always worth a trip:
If it’s August, it Must be . . . Halloween??
In the olden days, when we were Cold Warriors, guarding European borders from the evils of the Soviet Union, smart military wives started Christmas shopping in August. We knew we were up against deadlines; any gifts going surface mail needed to be mailed by mid-November. “Last minute” would need to be sent by Thanksgiving, or, horrors, the first week in December, but that is cutting it very close if you want your gifts to actually arrive in time.
You get so you start your shopping in January. We didn’t earn buckets of money, and we could do well by dollar-cost-averaging over the ten months leading up to Christmas. The bases all encouraged us to plan ahead, put things on layaway, make wise decisions – all year round. Knowing the barriers, the custom is to help the service people deal with the challenges of a life of – you know – service.
Finding Halloween had come to our Base commissary the second week in August, just as school is starting, was new to me. We are in the United States! We shouldn’t need to be thinking two months ahead for Halloween!
Pensacola is a Navy-centric community. We have Navy bases here, a solid community of Navy families and Navy retirees, and of course, the beloved Blue Angels. So I am wondering, too – where is the outrage? Where is the pushback when the leader of our nation tells the sailors and their families that they haven’t been in the Straits of Hormuz long enough? Where is the outrage when he dismisses complaints about food shortages, supply shortages, and mental health problems from being at sea for such a long time with no respite?
There are traditions against complaining, so if the grumblings are being heard, there is a real problem. Our military is used to self-sacrifice. It’s the nature of the service. If they are complaining, we can’t tell our military people to just suck it up. We have to listen.
This war has been going on for months, with countless declarations that the war is over and the Strait of Hormuz is open, only to discover, again and again, that it is not true. Over and over, it is another big fat lie.
Wrap it up, guys.
Alaska 2026: Fred Meyer and Leaving Anchorage
I started the day anxious – was this horrid hotel room an omen? Today we were to drive to Denali, what if something went wrong??
We packed, we joked around and we went to breakfast. The breakfast was simple, but well prepared and had choices we like. In addition, we met a man from Houston and his wife, of Indian descent, who was later joined by his daughter and her friend, and we learned they, too, were headed to Denali. We had a great conversation, chatting away, and by the end of breakfast we were feeling much more positive.
As we headed out, I saw a giant stuffed polar bear and AdventureMan wanted to take my picture with it, so we had a lot of fun. We spent a few minutes taking photos for other people who wanted the same photo with the bear.
It’s a little dark and drizzly as we start. Across the street is the Puffin In, and if anything, it looks worse than the place we stayed. On the road to leave Anchorage, AdventureMan spots this and it brightens our spirits:
We had decided we wanted to pick up a few things for the road, small things, snacks, bananas for our breakfast cereals, and water. AdventureMan said, “Hey! A Fred Meyer!” and we were elated.
Fred Meyer is a West Coast grocery/department store we love. I was able to grab a coffee – and couldn’t resist a Starbucks Alaska mug for our son. We were in and out in minutes, found everything we needed, and were back on the road. The road was straightforward, only a turn here and there, and we were on our way out of Anchorage to Denali, and the road was smooth with very low traffic.
Corn in Pensacola is under 50 cents a cob
British Isles: Great Fun in Edinburgh
Early rising today as we are in Group 2 and meeting up at 7:45 am in the Star theatre to tender in to port to catch our bus. Whew! We had a quick breakfast – I am back to oatmeal now that the novelty of so much variety has worn off. We pack up our quiet boxes (it looks like hearing aids, but it allows the guide to speak to us as we are walking along without broadcasting to the world), our windbreakers, our phones, cameras and make sure we have everything we need.
They call our group quickly after group one (Group one is going to play golf at Saint Andrew’s; we are going on the panoramic tour of Edinburgh which is riding around in the bus about one hour looking at important things, then walking up the King’s Mile to the Edinburgh Castle. It is August, the month of the Tattoo, and the Castle has huge grandstands set up for people to come and watch this historical ceremony.
It is also the month of several festivals, so we are glad our bus is first out and full of people who are on time and board quickly. We have the streets to ourselves, shared only with the children and their backpacks headed to school. But look at the skies – so grimy! I try not to think about particulates and to breathe shallowly.
The tour shows us all kinds of buildings – housing for rich and poor, schools, different architectural styles, different kinds of stone and decorations, statues of important men and homes of some of Edinburgh’s famous men. Edinburgh, and Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin, give of thick Game of Thrones vibes to me. We park and hike up the hill to the castle, and the King’s Mile, where we are on our own for an hour and the crowds begin arriving.
Below are the grandstands built to seat audiences for the Grand Tattoo. It gives me shivers and chills just to imagine sitting there.
You can see the same grandstands behind us.
We make a quick stop at the Castle Arms Pub, where they very kindly allow us to use their facilities, then we hike up to the castle, and down the King’s Mile. Then back up the King’s Mile, and we still have 15 minutes to spare so we head back to the Castle Arms Pub to have a coffee and an IRN-BRU (special Scottish soft drink) to thank them for allowing us to stop earlier. Our guide picks us up on the way back down the hill, and everyone going back to the boat is on time, again. We love traveling with Viking people.
When we get back to the port, we decide to explore a little before heading back to the ship, so we look for the grocery store the guide has told us about to see a little of how the real Scots live, or at least where they shop. It is an Asda grocery, but once inside, it sure has the feel of a Walmart, with signs about price rollbacks and arrows, clothing racks and foods – its a supermarket, not unlike you would find in France or Spain or Pensacola. The goods are goods like we would buy in Pensacola. We just see one thing we know is genuinely Scottish:
When we get back to port, we board the tender and are back on the ship very shortly. It’s been another great day on this trip, bright sunshine, warm but temperate weather, zero complaints.
We both chose lunch from the noodle shop, broccoli and stir fried shrimp and mushrooms for both. And dessert, of course. Blueberry sorbet, and it is wonderful.
We need a trip to the Nordic Spa, the bubbly hot wave pool down on the first deck, with a snow room, a steam room and lovely serene changing rooms with saunas. Sheer bliss.
We have unruly neighbors. This afternoon we hears thumps and screams amidst the shouting and arguing and finally AdventureMan called security and asked them to make a call to check on their well-being. It stopped for a while. It’s started up again.
We see the name Lothian on buses and small stores. AdventureMan tells me Lothian is the name of the lowland region that includes Edinburgh, lying between the southern shore of the Firth of Forth and the Lammermuir Hills and the Moorfoot Hills. So you take the high road and I’ll take the low road . . . . Firth is a cognate of fjord, a Norse word meaning a narrow inlet. Thank you, AdventureMan. Now we are leaving Edinburgh.
We would come back to Edinburgh again. There is so much history here we just skimmed over. The Romans. Hadrian’s Wall. We need to come back.
We’ve finished dinner, but we haven’t finished chatting, and there is a big block of something (?) floating off starboard side and people start rushing over to take a picture of the “iceberg.”
I have no idea what it really was, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t an iceburg.
Sunset en route to Aberdeen
I haven’t said much about shopping. It’s because I haven’t shopped much. Our great quest on arrival in London was to find good cheese and good wine to have in our cabin. It thrills us to sit out on our balcony with good cheese and a nice glass of wine as we sail away.
Most of the trips we take are busy. These cruises are what you make of them. Some people are really laid back and mostly are on the trip for the cruise experience; they love the shows and on-board games and entertainment (there are better cruise lines for that.) One group on this trip is about golf, and another group is about visiting gardens, and they meet up at night and have great conversations, regaling one another with discoveries and anecdotes. Some love visiting wineries and distilleries at every port. My husband and I are mostly into history, early history for me, military history for my husband. We have lists of what we want to see and scurry to hit our priorities. It can be exhausting – and exhilarating. Shopping, however, gets tucked in where it can.
I found some cool Christmas gifts at the Canturbury Cathedral. I bought chocolate with Irish whiskey and a Celtic coffee mug in Dublin, more chocolate in Wales, and a tin of tea with a dragon on it! That’s about it so far. Some people came back from Edinburgh laden with shopping bags. Most of their shopping was gorgeous woolens, but I have woolens, and I live in Pensacola, Florida, where woolens are mostly irrelevant (and too itchy for me.) So we’re really not spending much. We ARE having a terrific time.
I wish we had another day at sea before Aberdeen; I need time to integrate all these new sights and ideas. No such luck! On one cruise, with several sea days, a friend of the ship’s captain told us that days-at-sea were a hardship for the ship’s crew, that the one thing that can cause big trouble is bored passengers. I can imagine! And I am a woman who needs time to ponder and to integrate!
Morocco Malta and the Med: Ajaccio (Corsica) and Napoleon
Early morning arrival in Ajaccio
Breakfast at Mamsens, the small Norwegian style kiosk in the Explorer’s Lounge. We love their waffles with fruit and I especially love the golden gjetost, soft smooth and nutty.
We can see the buses lining up for our excursion. We signed up for the earliest; I like the early morning light for photos and we are docked right in town; we can leave the tour as it finishes and explore on our own. We hope we can also have lunch in Ajaccio. We’ve never been here before, and AdventureMan is a long-time appreciator of Napoleon, his strategies and tactics, who was born in Ajaccio.
Sometimes I overthink. My morning is cloudy and grey, and light flat and sullen. Ah well, we do the best we can with what we’ve got. Fortunately Viking has their nice bright red canopy and carpet to usher us off the ship and to our buses.
The light fixtures are interesting, Napoleonic crowns
Napoleon looking at AdventureMan with appreciation. 😉
The cave of Napoleon (he hid there? I don’t know the significance.)
We drove along the coastline, I never mind a coastal drive! This is some of the priciest real estate in Corsica, overlooking the sea. These are family crypts, so beautiful that families picnic, even sleep in these houses where their family members are encrypted.
We come to a rest stop, and the three island/mountains with towers on top are significant, but I can’t remember how. It is sunny now, and windy, and we appreciated the time to walk and breathe in the sea air. Their were powerful waves hitting the wharf, so it was chained so we wouldn’t walk out there.
Back in town, we exit the bus at the church where Napoleon was baptized, which is undergoing some repairs and renovations now, but they let us go in.
We are told that these are Corsican windows, special to the area because Corsicans are snoopy and into one another’s business and these windows allow snoopy women not to be seen but to keep up with the happenings in the neighborhood. I tell you this because in Malta, these same windows are reported as a Maltese invention because Maltese women are snoopy, and in Rome, of course they were a Roman invention because – well, you get the picture. I guess the women were snoopy because they were often confined to the home, and learned what they could by peeping out these screened windows?
The next church was dear to my heart, the Mariner’s church. Far less elaborate than Napoleon’s church, this church was in place to pray for those who go to sea, who fish, who are sometimes late returning, and for those who never come back. Growing up in Alaska, among fishing folk, I have a great respect for and a healthy fear of the sea. I feel at home in this beautiful, heart-felt church.
Leaving the Mariner’s Church and nearby, the Fortress and moat. And something else, can you see?
I’ve changed the angle just a bit, can you see now?
That’s our ship! We’re the only ship docked in the center of town, and you can see it from everywhere. We have no concern leaving the group when we are ready; we know how to get back to the ship before it sails.
Our guide implied that the people of Ajaccio are actually prouder of Pascal Paoli than Napoleon, and that we should be too, we Americans. Do you know who he is? Wikipedia says:
Paoli commemorated in the United States
The American Sons of Liberty movement were inspired by Paoli. Ebenezer McIntosh, a leader of the Sons of Liberty, named his son Paschal Paoli McIntosh in honour of him. In 1768, the editor of the New York Journal described Paoli as “the greatest man on earth“. Several places in the United States are named after him. These include:
- Paoli, Colorado
- Paoli, Indiana
- Paoli, Kentucky
- Paoli, Oklahoma
- Paoli, Pennsylvania, which was named after “General Paoli’s Tavern” a meeting-point of the Sons of Liberty and homage to the “General of the Corsicans”.
- Paoli, Wisconsin
Our guide told us that the first democratic constitution in the world was Paoli’s 1755 Constitution for the independent Republic of Corsica and that it was written in conjunction with with Thomas Jefferson and was directly influencial in the formation of the US Constitution.. I can find no verification of that information, but I found the following in Grunge. Hmmmm.
The American Dream is born
Emanuel Leutze
Across the Atlantic, Patriots in the Thirteen Colonies eagerly followed the Corsican War. According to the Journal of the American Revolution, Corsica’s heroism made Paoli highly respected in America, inspiring the Patriots (especially the Sons of Liberty) to push for a war of independence. William Pitt called him “a hero out of Plutarch.” According to the Colonial Society, the leader of the Boston Riots, Ebenezer Mackintosh, named his son after Pasquale. At Columbia University (then King’s College), a battalion of student volunteers of the NY militia nicknamed “the Corsicans” formed in 1775. Its most famous member? Alexander Hamilton.
Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, and Wisconsin all contain towns named Paoli after that famous Corsican hero. At Paoli’s Tavern, PA, British forces defeated George Washington and Anthony Wayne. The significance of the name was surely not lost on either side. But was Paoli’s spirit present at the Old Pennsylvania State House in 1787?
According to Thomas Jefferson, he was not. The US Constitution was a purely American product, free of foreign influence. But Georges Coanet, secretary-general of the Pasquale Paoli Foundation, during a visit to Paoli, PA, noted that Paoli ran in the same Masonic circles as Benjamin Franklin and Lafayette, so they would have at least known about his constitution and ideas. It will never be certain, but given his American fame after Ponte Novu, it is certainly plausible that Paoli was at least on the minds of some of the founders during that hot Pennsylvania summer.
Read More: https://www.grunge.com/441925/the-heroic-story-of-the-island-that-inspired-the-american-revolution/
Paoli and the Bonaparte family did not get along. There’s a history. Below is the house where Napoleon was said to be born.
Lots of little shops open selling Napoleonic schlock, but it is Monday, and the Napoleonic Museum is not open.
At this central plaza, we separated from the group; I knew where the open market was and I wanted to see it. It was nearby. It was closed. No big deal, I also urgently needed to buy some mascara, and we had seen a large French department store on a main street, so we looked it up on Google and followed the blue dots until we got there. French store, lots of mascara, emergency met. As I paid at the caisse, I had to wait while a very long conversation took place between the cashier and a woman I thought to be a customer. But no, the cashier turned to me, although the other woman kept talking, and took my payment.
We are always trying to break large Euro bills so that we have small coins for bathrooms and for tips, so I broke a 100 Euro bill and as the cashier handed me the change (the mascara was not expensive so there was a lot of change) the woman was talking to me, and she was telling me she had not eaten for several days and that she was very hungry.
I am on a 23 day trip on a large ship going to wonderful places and I have a fist full of change in my hand. A part of me feels extorted, and a part of me sees me – privileged, buying a luxury, not a necessity, and with a handful of bills. I was ashamed I had even hesitated. Yes, I gave her some money to eat.
I never know when it is right or wrong, and I am sure I have been taken advantage of. In my readings, I came across this exhortation in scriptures: Matthew 5:42 Give to everyone who begs of you.
We are hungry, and we wanted to eat in Ajaccio. We find a place that looks promising, there is a local man sleeping with a glass of brandy in his hand and a dog on his lap. We take that as a promising sign. Here is another promising sign:
We love this name, liberally translated “The Hole in the Wall”
If you look very closely, you may see the sleeping man and his dog on his lap 😊
My husband orders the Entrecôte, and I order the Aioli Maison Cabillaud. It’s too much food, but it is delicious! Sorry, I ate most of my fish before I remembered to take a picture.
Here’s something interesting to me – we eat like kings. On these cruises, we eat what we wish, and we eat desserts. We are walking so much – most days 10,000 steps or more. Sometimes way more. We are so active, the weight doesn’t stick. Also, we really like vegetables and salads and seafood with lighter sauces or no sauce at all, so we don’t worry, and we don’t gain weight. Also, the desserts served on board are very small, and even so, we might split a dessert so we usually get home our same weight or – even a little less! It’s a mystery.
We walk back to the ship – we had wine with lunch and are ready for a short nap. After our nap, we head for the spa, the beautiful Viking spa with hot water pool, a snow room, a wet steam room, a dry steam room – oh what luxury.
We are back in our cabin for sunset and Sail Away, and we see a spectacular sight – it’s nearing sunset, and suddenly the starlings start flocking; they look like schools of fish in the water, same movement, a glorious, joyful dance! I looked it up. It is called a murmuration. A murmuration . . .
This must be a frequent occurrence; guns are going off all over town, and fireworks. I don’t know if it is to keep the starlings from landing or to provide everyone with this spectacle.
At sundown the Christmas lights come on!
And we sail away from Ajaccio.
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.
Barcelona to Abu Dhabi: Dubai, Sharjah and More Adventure Than Anticipated
North from Muscat, through the Straits of Hormuz (where you see Khasab) and then south to Dubai.
We didn’t have a lot of expectations for the day. We were docking late in Dubai, just after lunch, and heading off almost immediately for Sharjah. We couldn’t really think why we were really going.
Packing to go home changes everything. You are no longer on a journey, you are already planning an end, it’s like the end of a love affair. AdventureMan and I sit down and calculate our tips. The tour requires that we prepay gratuities, and we did so, but there are people who contributed greatly to our happiness on board, and we need to encourage them in the most sincere way – cash.
So I spend my early morning time up in Horizons, drinking coffee, catching up on e-mails, and taking photos of the sunrise, which is shockingly dirty. The sun appears to be fighting its way through the smog and haze. And, oddly, the sun is rising on the port side of the ship, which would imply we are heading south, how can that be? I figure we must have passed the Straits of Hormuz and are now going south towards Dubai, it’s the only explanation I can think of. (See map above)
We hit breakfast – it’s taken about two weeks for us to settle back down, with all the variety and abundance offered, and we are now back to mostly eating with some discipline. I’ve not been as good with the blood sugar during the trip, but I’m back down to normal now and want to hold that line.
Our last trip to the spa, and once again, we have it all to ourselves, and then loll around for a while in the hot Gulf sunshine before showering – the spa is salt and showering is a must, as is drinking a lot of water to rehydrate. Lunch is just a little rushed, and then we are off to the Nautica Lounge where we run into Ed and Alan, and catch up on their happenings as we wait for our trips to be called. They are off to visit Dubai, while we are off to Sharjah.
Below is the very modern, very efficient arrivals terminal and immigration.
First, we have a great guide, an Iranian woman, with no headscarf, which she later explains – that the Quran says nothing about covering your hair or face, only to “cover your beauty.” She says that she covers sometimes, like for praying in the mosque, but she finds the abaya and headscarf are off-putting to her western tourist clients, and that people feel freer to ask her questions when she looks more like them. I found that to be compelling – that she believes in covering but that she also believes in eliminating barriers with her clients. I liked that she could hold those two ideas and make it work.
The trip was amazing. Sharjah is still quieter and somewhat less modern than Dubai and Abu Dhabi, although still built up in a more residential way. We started with a visual (in the bus) tour of a roundabout with beautiful official buildings – the court, the library, a mosque, surrounding a park, all very beautiful. Then we went to the Islamic Museum.
The Islamic Museum was impressive.
I leave the group; I zipped to the gift shop. It’s not that I am a rabid shopper, it’s that I do like to bring things back for people and I find the best quality at the best prices in museum shops. I found some wonderful things, very quickly, and moved on to a visiting Calligraphic exhibit, (I learned the glory of Islamic calligraphy at the Tarek Rejab Museum in Kuwait, a treasure trove of gorgeous Islamic scripts) and then I zipped up to visit the beautiful dome, gloriously painted with constellations and signs of the zodiac.
The dome crowns a beautiful reception room with comfortable chairs, and people looking up at this ceiling in wonder. It is beautiful.
From there, I went to the section on Islamic technology, where I exalted in astrolabes and exquisite instruments of measurement – I love good design. It thrills my heart to see the gorgeous design of these instruments created to do practical work, but which thrill the user with their beauty.
As I am there, I get a call from AM reminding me our time is almost up and it is time to meet. Here is a thing about Oceania excursions – we never had a single one where were were held up by a lagger. On all our tour, people paid attention to time expectations and met – or even exceeded – the instructions.
From the Islamic Museum, we headed to a fort, actually a re-creation of an actual fort which had been built on that exact spot. It had gorgeous pieces of ancient weaponry, guns, cannons, ammunition, suits of armor, and samples of early technology, such as goat skins used to store liquids, make yoghurt and butter. It was nearing sunset, and the late afternoon light loved the fort and it’s beautiful spaces.
You will see a picture later of the original fort; this fort has been re-constructed in the middle of a busy city to honor the Sheikh and to honor earlier traditions in Sharjah. Below is looking down into the well in the fortress.
I found this display below a bit bizarre, but maybe that’s just me?
Below is an Omani chest, with the nail-head decoration. This chest is used as a closet, holding a simile of the Sheikh’s wardrobe.
Another view of this modern apartment building; I would like to believe the snake-like figure is also calligraphic:
Last, we went to the Sharjah “souks.” We started off at the gold souks.
I like gold. I like real jewelry. The gold souks are overwhelming. Many of the shops are full of gold sets, the kind of gift a young bride is given by the groom’s family when she enters their family, a mail-like necklace/breastplate, and maybe earrings, a headpiece, sometimes handpieces, all matching, and all of which belong to her and provide her with some security in case down the line she is divorced or widowed. In theory, her bride price and her jewelry are hers to invest and manage. These sets are awesome to behold.
The sets are also intimidating. Maybe a movie-star could carry them off in our culture, but otherwise, they would draw too much attention. As we walk by shop after shop, I am dazzled and my heart beats faster, but when it comes to something for me, there is nothing. I remember how hard I had to look in places like Saudi Arabia, when gold was much cheaper, for pieces which were more modest and simple.
I buy nothing, except for at the end when AdventureMan and I have fresh-pressed juice; strawberry for him, and pomegranate for me. It is fresh juice, with no additives, and no sugar; there are pieces of fruit in the juice and it is delicious. These are times I really miss living in the Middle East.
As we are leaving, the sun has just gone down and the night has gone purple. It never fails to take my breath away. I only see this color in the Middle East, and it is just when the call to prayer begins to be called. Tonight there is a crescent moon. We are looking across the river at Dubai. The lights are twinkling, the call to prayer calls to our hearts, and families are gathering on woven mats to sit on the grass of the park across from the Mall. It is an exquisite time of the day and an experience of pure joy.
“So,” I can hear you asking, “The day is over. Where is the unanticipated adventure?”
Back at Nautica, we stand in line to pick up our passports for our departure the next day. I am handed my passport. AdventureMan’s passport is not there. The crew searches relentlessly, as we watch others easily access their passports. AdventureMan’s passport does not show up. It has not been returned by UAE Security. No one knows why.
We go through a bad couple of hours. I am trying to game what we will do if the problem is not resolved. This is an unusual circumstance, but this is the Middle East.
Security tells us his passport has been flagged because he was in Dubai in 2008 and they have no record of his exit. This is entirely possible. AdventureMan traveled a lot, in and out of many countries. Perhaps someone was talking with him as he departed and neglected to mark his departure. It’s all speculation. We really don’t know.
Finally, hours later, they relent, and an hour before the boat sails, his passport is returned by UAE officials.
We dine in our cabin, as we finish our packing. We need to have clothes for sleeping, clothes for disembarkation, and clothes for flying, including something warm for our transits through Brussels and Montreal. This entire trip has been a packing challenge, trying to anticipate temperature changes and comfortably appropriate clothing, including modesty requirements. Dinner is simple but relaxing, we finish off the wine we bought in Barcelona, and we jump up now and then to refine packing, make sure we have the appropriate paperwork, etc. We are greatly relieved to have AdventureMan’s passport back and we are also a little unnerved. We are hoping there will be no further problems as we leave Abu Dhabi.
We sleep well.
Barcelona to Abu Dhabi: A Very Fine Day in Muscat, Oman
Overnight, Christmas has begun to happen on the Nautica. As I head up for my morning coffee in the Horizons Lounge, a decorated tree has magically appeared overnight. As the day goes on, more and more trees will appear. I am such a believer in Christmas. Today, we are approaching Muscat, a city I love, and there is a Christmas tree in Horizons! How can the day get any better?
A fabulous early morning sunrise is icing on the cake.
Coming in to Muscat.
We had been so disappointed to be in Muscat only for a few hours and to know that on Friday the Muttrah souk would not open until late afternoon. We had signed up for a dhow ride. We like dhows, and we are only in Muscat for such a short time! Once we discovered the souk would be opening early, and closing at the mid-day call for prayer, we decided to skip the dhow ride and take the shuttle into Muscat. Changing our plan changed everything. Our disappointment lifted; we felt empowered once again! We could choose our own adventure!
I head back to the cabin to check on AdventureMan. He is not there! Natalia, our cabin attendant, tells me he just left looking for me, he went THAT way, and I go to the cabin. I knew we could spend a lot of time chasing one another and that the best thing was to stay in one place. I spent a short time putting together a GO bag, water, etc, then he was back.
We went for breakfast and decided we are ready to go.
We meet with the local destination resource who gives us a good map, and we head for the shuttle, which arrives just as we leave the ship. There are Hop On Hop Off buses all lined up to take others on their adventures, too!
It takes us 300 yards to the immigration building, we get our little card and we get back on the bus. The driver takes us another mile and we are at the Muttrah Souk.
Much to my surprise, there is a lot of local activity. We are among the first to arrive, but there are local women doing their shopping, shopping for gold, with their babies, some with their husbands.
This man was so kind. He had just bought some freshly cooked Felafel, and AdventureMan asked him how much they were. He immediately went and bought some for AM, and refused to take any money for them. They were delicious. Of course, we bought from his shop.
We keep to the smaller back streets at first, and I look longingly in the beautiful gold souks, remembering days of long ago when I would admire, but know that nothing I was seeing (mostly bridal and dowry jewelry) would be anything I could wear in my life.
We also saw fabric shops and notions shops which made me drool, and I had to stop to admire – but not to buy. I know where my granddaughter gets her love for glitz – the gold trim dazzles me, but I have nowhere to wear it.
We wander around, nothing looks that familiar, and then suddenly, it does. We shop the back streets for perfume bottles, scarves/shawls for gifts, and something for the postman – we find him an Oman snow globe. We stop for drinks, in a central, shady restaurant where I have pomegranate juice and AM has strawberry – delicious and refreshing.
And it is HOT. We have been thinking it would be hot once we hit Haifa but were lucky to have cooler weather through Haifa and Luxor. Even at sea in the Red Sea, it has been comfortable. It didn’t get HOT until today.
The souks begin to fill up; the tour buses have finished their trips and are dropping the riders at the souks.
We were actually back on the boat by noon – the souks are just minutes away – and there was another fish soup for lunch. It tasted a lot like the bouillabaisse but was a zarzuela. After lunch, we hit the spa. We lay out on the divans for a short while but it was HOT. The Nautica departs at four.
Tomorrow we will arrive in Dubai, but not until noon or so, and then we have a trip to Sharjah, a small emirate that I have never seen. Then we have dinner and make sure our bags are packed and ready to go because our next stop is Abu Dhabi and disembarkation, which they say is very uncomplicated.
AdventureMan is restless, we go up for tea and to watch the ship depart. Joined by friends from England, we chatted about our day in Muscat. As we chatted, dolphins swam back and forth across the wake in the back of the boat.
Back in the cabin, at sunset, Ashok brought appetizers – egg rolls and two scones. We’ve been eating all day – lightly – but we will save the scones for dessert.
Living off My Fat: Adaptation
It probably all started growing up in Alaska, where my mother would measure us in July to order our snowsuits as soon as the new catalogs came out. We lived where ships didn’t come in the winter, so supplies for the winter needed to be ordered – and received – before the ships could no longer navigate the channel.
Then came our life in Germany, where we lived by what my sister called “Commissary rules.” Her one word of advice as a newlywed leaving Germany, while I was staying, was “When you see something in the Commissary or PX you think you MIGHT need, buy it.” Definitely a no-regrets philosophy.
When we were sent to live in Tunisia, in the late 1970’s, we were instructed to take everything we might need for the next two years. Some things – chocolate chips – we learned to live without. We adapted to new foods, new ways of doing things. One of the great treats was the fresh, gorgeous, silky olive oil; I would take my jar to the little olive oil vendor at the nearby souk and he would weigh my jar, fill it, subtract the weight of the jar and charge me for the oil, which made everything taste French.
I did have a two-year supply of shoes for a growing toddler, also clothing for him in graduated sizes, and two years of age-appropriate books I could pull out of the closet. We were able to mail-order through the embassy pouch, and my mother was able to mail me little extras. One year, when I was running the Christmas bazaar, she was able to find red and green Christmas fabrics in July, at a discount, and mail them to us for our crafting. It was such a luxury!
In Qatar, I was always bringing back duffels with quilting rulers and rotary cutters for my quilting friends. In Kuwait, it was books for my book club and American sugar for a friend who liked to bake. Kuwait had sugar, but more coarse, and American sugar melts more quickly for a finer result. Who knew?
There are items from the past I still have in abundance – dental floss, women’s underwear, shoes – and staples I buy but no longer use in the quantities I once did because we no longer live a life where we entertain a lot nor prepare for unexpected people on temporary duty who need a meal and an exchange of currency. I am trying to bring down my supplies of artichoke hearts and pimentos, beans and rice, canned tomatoes, chutney, Tupperware and hand soap.
My Little Free Library, one of the best birthday gifts ever, helps me keep my books from overflowing.
We are happy, these days, to be living with less. We are still caught by surprise by rolls of baking parchment we are still using from Kuwait, dental floss leftover from our years in Tunis and an excess of Christmas decorations we still need to pare down. We try to go easy on ourselves. “Ah,” we sigh, “it’s a process.” God grant that we live long enough to use up all those supplies we bought “just in case.”
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