Morocco Malta and the Med: Disembarkation in Barcelona
We have a late disembarkation, but our leisurely morning is not a leisurely morning for the crew. These wonderful people work so hard. They truly do everything they can to ensure their passenger’s happiness and well-being, and today, they say goodbye to us and work to get our baggage off the ship. Then they work like crazy to clean and disinfect every single stateroom and re-supply the food, beverage, and incidentals (like toilet paper and sanitizer, etc) for the next group who will be boarding in just hours. They will do the exact same thing for the next group, welcome them, keep them safe, fed and entertained, and then do the same for the next group. These crews are the true heroes of cruising.
Bags were picked up the night before. We’ve had a quick breakfast. For the only time this trip, this morning there is a passenger at breakfast surrounded by a wide swath of no passengers. He is wearing a MAGA hat. This is the only time this entire trip there has been a hint of politics.
Our group is called and we head for the bus, identify our bags, make sure they are loaded and ride to the airport. It is early on a Sunday morning, the ride to the airport is amazingly quick.
I am a worrier; I don’t see my bags when I exit the bus, but I guess Viking has done this a time or two because the bags are already unloaded and waiting for us in the airport. The line for Delta is long, and chaotic, but we get through relatively quickly. AdventureMan helps me find a Starbucks, where I buy a Barcelona cup. He was very patient. Now he is very glad we stopped; the Barcelona cup is his favorite cup.
The wait in the lounge was comfortable. Our flight was called on time. Everything went smoothly. That seems to be the mantra for this entire trip, every flight left on time, arrived on time, our ship didn’t have to miss any ports, we arrived and departed on time. We had great weather. We had a great trip.
Morocco Malta and the Med: Malaga, Spain
Dawn finds us in Malaga, our last new city on this cruise.
You can see the buses lined up already to take us on tours of the city.
In front of us looks like a huge beer tent!
We are told this cruise ship never moves. It is undergoing renovation and no one knows when it will finish.
Lots of Expats buying property in Malaga, forcing prices up, our guide tells us.
You can see the bull fighting arena from this overlook.
Malaga is proudly home to Picasso’s birthplace.
Once again we were trying to break down some of our larger Euro bills so we went into a supermarket where we found some small things. I went through the cashier and then waited outside for my husband. He got the old fish eye; maybe the cashier is wise to tourists needing smaller change.
Love to see recycling!
Tourists love Malaga. It is the end of November. The place is packed, expecially here at the castle.
The guide is finishing our walking tour, which has been crowded with many groups of people just like us.
As the guide finishes our walking tour, which has been crowded but informative and a lot of fun, he points out the way to the open market (!) and then shows us where we will be able to catch the shuttle back to the ship. Yes! He also points out one of the oldest ice cream shops in Malaga, famous for the quality and variety of its ice creams. Sign us up!
We thank the guide, tip him with great appreciation, and head off toward the old central market. If you haven’t guessed, this is one of our favorite places to eat (think really fresh), for taking photos, and for seeing people who really live in a place and what they are buying and eating. We find an outdoor restaurant where people are eating interesting-looking food. We get to know the couple at the table next to us; they are from Amsterdam and just down for a four-day weekend to soak up some beach time and some good Spanish food. What a luxury to just come to Malaga for a four-day weekend!
My husband’s beer glass was particularly beautiful. The beer was very good.
Above are Tomatoes and Tuna, very fresh, very good. Below are anchovies in a vinegar brine. A little was good, but this was too much anchovy, and raw, even for me. The green olives were delicious.
A brochette of grilled shrimp – fresh, delicious.
Spicy shrimp with garlic and peppers. You think you are OK and you are thinking how delicious this dish is, and then the heat hits you. Oh Wow! We had fresh bread to soak up the sauces.
We’ve saved room for dessert and AdventureMan kept track of where the famous ice cream shop was.
Look at that chocolate! It was decadent, so chock full of flavor. AdventureMan had the pistachio and says it was very fine pistachio ice cream.
No, not small servings, but it is our last day in Spain, and the ice cream is so good we choose not to feel guilty about it. As it turned out, it was so rich, I couldn’t eat all of mine anyway.
We walk down to where the guide showed us to catch a shuttle back to the ship, and – nothing. No people, no signage, nothing. Maybe we misunderstood? We walked about a mile along a tourist waterfront walkway and asked people; no one could tell us. At the other end, the Hop On Hop Off boat people said they thought it was back where we started.
Back where we started are some passengers we recognize, and they are all grumbling and complaining. No signage, no red-vested Viking people but this is where the shuttle is supposed to be and they were told the shuttle drivers were taking an hour or so for lunch. There is one young man that they think is with Viking but he is busy looking at his phone, does not seem to speak English (or doesn’t want to) and is not helpful. He does have a red Viking bag.
And then we see the shuttle. It is coming! We get on, and some of the crew get on and we are all riding back together but here come some more Viking passengers and there is no more room in the bus! The passengers are running across the busy street, waving their arms and yelling “Wait! Wait!” but the driver drives faster. We know they got back to the ship on the next bus, but they were angry!
Ah well. Small drama. We put on our swimsuits and head for the spa. As we soak in the waves and bubbles for the last time, we review the trip and think how lucky we are. We never had any serious rain, only maybe ten minutes in Malta. No big deal. And all the ports gave us what we needed – new sights, new experiences, new understanding of how the world works. We love our cabin, our stewards have treated us like royalty, and we’ve met some interesting people and some nice people. This has been a really good trip for us.
Tonight is a special night, a BBQ at the swimming pool with live music and dancing, loud speakers and games.
It is also Thanksgiving. We thought we would go to the BBQ but as we walk through it is crowded and we don’t see anywhere to sit, so we go into the World Cafe. The World Cafe is quieter and we have turkey and whatever else we want. We don’t mind missing the BBQ. We are not too hungry because of the meal at the market and the ice cream 😊.
Sailing away from Malaga.
We find life on a ship can be a little compressing; these stops in Cadiz and Malaga have given us what we need; time on our own to walk and explore and learn at our own pace, to stop and eat good ice cream when we want, to just sit and chat with strangers, to stop in a China shop for a hair clip – just time, time to ourselves. These are the things that make us happy when we travel.
Morocco Malta and the Med: Cadiz, An Unexpected Thrill
Too early for sunrise, not yet in Cadiz, and not allowed out on the deck – maybe high winds?
So this is the Explorer’s Lounge, where I hand out early in the morning, catching up with e-mails and Lectionary readings so I don’t wake AdventureMan.
I have a friend who brings me coffee and says “Madam! The sun is about to come up!” I can’t go outside, but shooting through the window works out. We are still not in Cadiz, plenty of time.
This yellowish haze is disturbing, and it is everywhere. Finally the sun sort of breaks through.
Shortly after breakfast, we approach Cadiz.
So here is the first unexpected blessing. This is the view from our stateroom:
This changes everything. We had booked a walking tour of Cadiz. We cancel it. We are so close we can visit everything on our own, at our own pace, and find a place for lunch.
From Google Earth:
Cádiz is an ancient port city in the Andalucia region of southwestern Spain. The home of the Spanish Navy, the port boomed in the 16th-century as a base for exploration and trade. It has more than 100 watchtowers, including the iconic Torre Tavira, which was traditionally used for spotting ships. On the waterfront is the domed, 18th-century Cádiz Cathedral, featuring baroque and neoclassical elements.
And this is what Cadiz looks like – a narrow isthmus and a quick walk from one side to the other. We are docked in the port to the North east, facing the Cadiz Cathedral.
It is just the kind of place we love – great for walking, lots to see, and we can do this on our own!
From Wikipedia: Admiral Blas de Lezo y Olavarrieta (3 February 1689 – 7 September 1741) was a Spanish navy officer best remembered for the Battle of Cartagena de Indias (1741), where Spanish imperialforces under his command decisively defeated a large British invasion fleet under Admiral Edward Vernon.
Throughout his naval career, Lezo sustained many severe wounds; he lost his left eye, left hand, complete mobility of the right arm, and had his left leg amputated in situ after being hit by the projectile of a cannon.[1] He perceived his wounds and physical limitations as medals, refusing to wear an eye patch to hide his blind eye. Wearing his past battles history on his flesh won the respect of his peers and soldiers.[2] Lezo used to say that the lack of a leg does not imply the lack of a brave heart. It is said that he sometimes recalled famous Dutch admiral Cornelis Jol, called “pegleg” because of his wooden prosthesis, as an example of a sailor who undertook great enterprises and achieved great renown, especially in piracy and privateering, despite his theoretical disability.[3]
Lezo’s defense of Cartagena de Indias against a vastly larger British fleet consolidated his legacy as one of the most heroic figures in the history of Spain. He is often recognized as one of the greatest strategists in naval history.[4][5]
We really can’t get lost in Cadiz:
The Christmas Market going up:
The Cadiz Mariner’s Church and mission
You would think below might be a church, or a mosque, but it is actually a private school for boys.
“To Sing is to Pray twice!”
We’ve learned something from our time in Barcelona searching for a hair brush (which, by the way, I had not lost. AdventureMan was right, it is a small brush and it was hiding in the bottom of my purse.) Now I’ve broken my hair clip, which keeps my hair out of my eyes and face while I am swimming or sleeping. It is totally broken, the wire snapped, it is useless. But as we pass this store below, I can hear the Barcelona hairdressers saying “China shop! China shop!”
China Shops are not always called China shop, but you can always tell from the outside because they are crammed with goods, and local people are inside buying what they need. I found a ton of hair clips, and I think I paid 79 pence (less than $1) for a hair clip. I hated to leave. They had a huge inventory of Christmas items, things I don’t need, thinks I can’t pack, but what if I never see them again? I only buy the hair clip, and am proud of myself, but with mixed feelings.
Then AdventureMan spots this store across the street with the most amazing display of PlayMobile figures. I was about to drift by, but he made me stop and pay attention, and I was blown away. If only I had little grandchildren and could justify buying them!
We’ve been hiking around Cadiz all morning, and we are ready to have lunch. We look and look for the right place – not too grand, not too stuffy, but with good local food. Finally, sigh, we settle for a place that is also full of Spanish tourists, so a tourist place, but Spanish tourists.
One funny thing happened here; a large group, maybe 12 mobility-impaired people and caretakers, came in, and a table was put together for all of them, and they got menus while one woman took her husband to the washroom. They kept not ordering. When the couple got back, they all got up and left.
We ordered tourist stuff – fish, grilled peppers, paella. It was good and we had a great time watching all the people pass by.
We have to be very careful not to catch this woman’s eye; she is soliciting tourists to buy hand made “African” bracelets, but what catches my eye is her headdress and clothing. When the police show up, she fades away quickly.
As we sit here eating lunch, we see group after group of Viking passengers pass by.
After we eat, we head up the street, only to discover our next blessing which is also a little disappointing, but oh well, it is what it is. Around the corner, if we had just gone a little bit further is the open market! It is colorful, and full of fresh beautiful vegetables, meats and seafood. AdventureMan needs to try some local sherry.
We leave the market, wandering our way back towards the ship. AdventureMan spotted an ice cream shop he wants to try. I got a very black chocolate ice cream, maybe the most chocolaty ice cream I had ever eaten. I think he can’t remember which he had, perhaps a cherry, but he says it “was all good. We had some good ice cream on that trip.”
We take our time heading back to the ship. Cadiz is so walkable, so much fun.
You can quickly go through the rest. I fell in love with our view and the sun setting behind the Cadiz Cathedral, our last thrill for the day in Cadiz before sail away.
I think this is the night we eat in the ship’s Italian restaurant, Manfredi’s. We had reservations for another night but canceled them when we discovered it was French night at the World Cafe.
The food was pretty good. People compete for these reservations. Our perception is that we have equally good Italian food other places, often better.
We also have discovered this about ourselves – we like food, and we are both a little on the attention deficit side. Sitting for a long time in a restaurant being served makes us restless. We really like the World Cafe; many of the foods are the same ones served in the Dining Room and the specialty restaurants without the time-consuming service. We can also exercise control over the serving sizes and sample something we might like to try but might not like to eat. We like getting up and walking, and we like that if there is something we like a lot, we can go back and get a little bit more. The World Cafe works well for us.
Morocco Malta and the Med: Barcelona Farewell as We Board Viking Saturn
Today, we board the Viking Saturn. We have to have our bags in the hallway to go to the ship by 0700, and we have to check in with the Viking organizers to get our bus assignment. First, we have to have breakfast, us and all the other Viking passengers gathered in the hotel. There are long lines and few tables for two, so we are put together with six others at a large table, and it is fine. We discover something in common – we are all excited by the itinerary.
At this point, I want to tell you something odd. Or maybe not so much. We are just a week away from one of the most contentious elections in American history, the victor claiming a mandate with a tiny margin over his opponent, and in all my little chats with fellow passengers, it never comes up. Never. And the entire trip, 23 days, it never came up. For a year, we’ve been talking about the election. Now, nothing. Not a word. And no, I’m not about to bring it up, I just find it weird.
I needed my camera, and there were so many people waiting for the elevators, I decided to walk down. About ten stories down I thought maybe I should try the elevator, but the key card only unlocks to door to the floor your room is on, and I still have another ten plus stories to go. Oh well. I walk the entire way, find my camera, and take the view above, with the sun rising over Barcelona. Later, I pay dearly for the 23 story downstairs hike becoming acquainted with muscles I didn’t know I had.
Our bus assignment is one of the later ones to leave; they time these things so as not to overcrowd any one location with too many Viking guests. We don’t mind; our bus is only half loaded and very comfortable. As we leave, there is another motorcycle car accident outside our hotel, with all the police and emergency people.
Our first stop is at the Arc de Triomf built for the Barcelona World Fair in 1888. The Fair took place to bring some revenue into Barcelona during a desperate time but also gave the city an opportunity – and excuse – to demolish the Citadel and replace it with much-needed green spaces for Barcelona’s citizens.
I love this building, designed in the Modernisme style by Liuis Domenech i Montaner. Here is what Wikipedia tells us about him:
His buildings displayed a mixture between rationalism and fabulous ornamentation inspired by Spanish-Arabic architecture, and followed the curvilinear design typical of Art Nouveau. In the El castell dels 3 dragons restaurant in Barcelona (built for the World’s Fair in 1888), which was for many years the Zoological Museum, he applied very advanced solutions (a visible iron structure and ceramics). He later developed this style further in other buildings, such as the Palau de la Música Catalana in Barcelona (1908), where he made extensive use of mosaic, ceramics and stained glass, the Hospital de Sant Pau in Barcelona, and the Institut Pere Mata in Reus.
This is the Castle of Three Dragons!
I remember Spain used to be a country where we needed to dress modestly. It is mid-November and we are wearing long sleeves and sweaters. These lovely fitness seekers must be cold!
Parakeets!
Port of Barcelona
The highlight of the bus tour – an hour at the National Museum of Art of Catalunya. If you had your passport or something proving you were over 65, you got free entrance to the special exhibits. I had a copy of my passport page and AdventureMan’s passport page. I told the cashier we were OLD and she laughed and gave us tickets to the special exhibit I wanted to see with very early church art preserved in this museum.
I hope you find these as breathtaking as I do!
Don’t you love how little Jesus is crouched on Mary’s lap?
Our ticket also allowed us access to the Museum roof, with 360 degree views of Barcelona.
A last view of what we learned was once a bull fighting arena, which has been transformed into a Mall.
So now we are delivered to the ship, and we are starving. We quickly embark, drop our gear and head for the World Cafe, where we can find something to eat. Dan Noodles for me, with Chinese shrimp. Yummm.
This is our view, and this is our cabin.
Lots of storage space
Sail Away from Barcelona.
Dinner as we sail away
Morocco Malta and the Med, Day 2, A Nightime Adventure
Fresh from our nap and not sure where we want to eat, we head out to accomplish a small errand. I have discovered I have lost my hairbrush. This is an emergency. Brushing hair is a must do! AdventureMan is sure I have misplaced it, so I look again, and it is nowhere to be found. But how hard can it be to buy a hairbrush?
Harder than we thought. We pop into a couple grocery stores, where they have everything, everything except hair brushes. We head into the side streets, where I find a hair salon and go in to buy a hairbrush. This turned into a real comedy. They couldn’t understand me, so I spoke French, and they got the brush part they were very concerned. I finally figured out they had no appointments for me, they thought I wanted my hair brushed. I kept trying to explain. AdventureMan left to see if he could find anything, but came back and we were still trying to figure it out. Finally, they understood I wanted to buy a brush, but they didn’t have any for sale. They were so kind, and by the time we finished, the entire shop was engaged in trying to help me.
“China! China” and they pointed to the right, and then to the left. “China!”
We never found the China shop, but AdventureMan found a Pakastini shop that carried a little of everything and spoke Arabic; he just reached behind him, pulled out a brush and it was great. First problem solved.
Now, where to eat? We are not out on the main street, but these back streets are intriguing. Like this is where real people are living, buying groceries (and hairbrushes) and there are restaurants, not fancy, but we walk until AdventureMan finds one he wants to try.
We go in and find a table and ask for menus, and a table of guys drinking next to us starts raising a ruckus and looking at us. It’s hard to be a stranger.
The manager or bartender admonishes them lightly and takes our order.
I am thinking it might not be the right time to be eating, maybe it is only time for drinking and maybe little tapas until dinner time, which in Spain is a lot later. But we order, and everything seems OK.
AdventureMan orders a Fisherman’s Soup, and I order a different kind of soup, and we share a plate of grilled peppers. The soups are some of the best food we had on the trip.
I ended up with a soup that was white beans and some kind of pork, hammy pork, and vegetables. The broth was flavorful, probably had more salt than we normally use, so it was delicious. AdventureMan’s soup took the prize, though. Full of fish and shellfish, with a broth that could almost stand up, it was so strong.
If we hadn’t gone off the main road looking for a hairbrush, we would never have ended up in this little neighborhood pub place with its delicious soups!
It’s a risk. We went against conventional wisdom. The streets were darker, and smaller, and might not have been so safe – Barcelona IS a big city. The walk back to the hotel was a little bit scary, but nothing happened, and we had a small adventure and a really good local meal. As we passed the hair salon, they were still open, so I waved my hairbrush in victory, and the hairdresser came out and hugged me in joy and said something (I have no idea what,) but she was joyful with me. I call that a great adventure.
Morocco Malta and the Med: 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 😊.
Morocco Malta and the Med: Our First Lucky Day
Everything had gone so smoothly. All our preparations, packing, the taxi driver lined up. And then, just before we are to leave home, a text from Air France, cancelling our flight with them and putting us on a Delta flight. Not a tragedy, but a disappointment; we always try to book Air France because their service is so welcoming, the food is delightful, and we just feel like the vacation starts as soon as we step aboard. So we know we will have to deal with it when we get to the airport.
We are checking in, and explain to the Delta check-in lady that we had the text, which had not yet shown up on her machine. She started poking around, and said “Mind if I make a phone call?” and we said “no, go ahead” and she talked with someone somewhere and looked at us and said “How would you like to fly directly from Atlanta to Barcelona?”
“YES!” we chimed together! We had wanted that direct flight, but Viking Air had said it was not possible. With just a few flicks of her fingers on the keys, it was entirely possible. Wow! We were blown away. We would get in several hours earlier than we had thought; more time in Barcelona!
What we didn’t know at the time was that we would not be sitting together, but it didn’t matter. We had a great flight, got some sleep and landed hours early in Barcelona.
For some reason, the bags took forever to get from the plane to the baggage delivery, like a full hour. We picked up my bag (AdventureMan did his entire trip out of his carry-on and backpack) and headed out to meet up with the Viking transport.
Two people with clipboards looked for our names – and we were not there! Finally a third person said “Oh! I’ve been looking for you; you are on our bus and we are leaving now!” so we went with a very small group to the bus. It was a small bus, filled mostly with elderly passengers with mobility issues, and us. We got to the Nobu hotel very quickly, and checked in.
“We’ve given you a very large room,” the porter said, and it was. We had a large sleeping area, a separate sunny sitting room, a dressing room/office, and a generous bathroom. It felt very spacious.
We settled in, took a brief rest, then headed out to get to know our neighborhood. AdventureMan had spotted a circular something, a mall, on the map near the Plaza d’Espana and wanted to go see what it was. I was actually not enthusiastic, but once we got walking I perked up and was glad for the exercise and the fresh air.
This was the circular “thing” on the map, and it was a mall, it had an elevator to the top, and we later learned that it was once a bullfighting arena, turned into a mall after years of neglect. They really did a great job; this was a fun place to explore.
We never felt unsafe on this trip. In Barcelona, police and emergency people were everywhere. This was a car and motorcycle collision, and they were there within minutes.
This is the arena / mall, and the round thing is the elevator to the top floor. As we were digging for change to pay for the trip we spotted a sign that said something like over 65 is free. There was a couple in front of us (I think also American) who were trying to insist on paying, so she just waived us through and continued trying to explain to them that they could go for free while we went straight to the top.
Inside the mall, things were happening. There were all kinds of stores you would find very familiar – American food chains and coffee shops. The place was packed with young people having something quick and fried at the end of the day. These kids were playing some kind of game where you step on clouds that form and reform in some kind of computer-generated way.
At the top, you could walk entirely around the whole arena, viewing the whole city. In the center of the circle were all kinds of restaurants. First, we had a great view of the Plaza d’Espana.
Just behind the very tall blue building in the center is the Nobu Hotel. To the left, off the busy main street, are quiet, bustling side streets we also got to explore.
Sagrada Familia is continuously under construction. Every time we visit, the date for completion has slipped further into the future.
I love seeing how people live. Imagine having this penthouse apartment with this little lap pool high above the city.
What tourism people will tell you is that Mount Tibidabo is an amusement park, but I can’t wait to get back to Barcelona and to visit this place – the tower on the right is part of the early Barcelona water system, and is supposed to be elegantly beautiful as well as functional. Guides in the area tell us that the church can be visited for free, and the art inside is stunningly beautiful, and the views from the top of the church – yes, you can go up there – encompass all of Barcelona, and too, are stunning. Worth a trip. (So many good reasons to visit Barcelona.)
We walked right by this park going to the arena and returning to our hotel, a park with installations by Miro’!
This is what the walking path on the top of the arena looks like, and on our right is the top of the elevator from base to top. To the left you see a couple of the restaurants – there are many – at the top.
So it’s 4:30 in the afternoon and we are starving and tired. While normally we shun touristic places, tonight we are ready for any port in the storm. We find A BrassaMe (I haven’t a clue what that means) which is open and already serving people, and they welcome us inside. And they have wine, and a view of the setting sun.
We are surprised most of the customers are Spanish and maybe local. Our waiter is very kind. We ask him to help us with choosing a good wine. We know we want to try some of the common tapas – bread with tomato, patatas bravas, I want to try fidua, a noodly disk kind of like paella, and he suggests a couple others, one a “bombe” (a potato filled with highly spiced ground meat) and something which we cannot identify but we think might be a deep fried fish of some kind. Doesn’t matter. It was a lot of fun, we ordered way too much food and it didn’t cost near what we pay in Pensacola for far less.
Bear with me, interiors interest me. I love the way this restaurant has capitalized on the view and the sunset. I love the sort of Miro-esque pipes in the ceiling.
I like the quiet elegant seclusion of this private dining room.
I love this bathroom. In modest, modern Spain, none of this silliness about bathrooms. Adults share the same room, doors are marked sort of ambiguously and people use whichever is free. How very grown up.
Our waiter is from Argentina, came here to find work and loves his life in Barcelona.
This is found everywhere – bread with tomato. He tells us that everything has to go on in a particular order.
This was the delicious spicy bombe.
These are another Spanish favorite, Patatas Bravas, kind of deep fried potatoes with tomato sauce or garlic sauce.
We’re pretty sure this was fish. Have you noticed how much food there is? We thought tapas were SMALL plates. We never saw a small plate of tapas in Spain.
I really liked this – Fidua. It’s kind of like rice-a-roni, little thin noodles cooked in a seafood broth, so tasty and delicious.
l love sunsets and sunrises and am more than a little uneasy about the sulphuric haze we found in most Mediterranean seaports.
Well-fed and well-wined, we rolled our way back to the hotel and managed showers before we fell, exhausted, into bed after a day full of good surprises. We slept straight through to morning.
The Great Sea Voyage: Barcelona to Abu Dhabi
So, my friends, I promised you a new trip, and I apologize for making you wait. We got back just in time to step back into our normal Pensacola routines and then to whirl into the celebrations of Christmas. I like to plan, I like to execute, and I like to give myself time to process. It’s time to begin.
We chose this trip three years ago. We loved the destinations, and we loved the idea of this journey, especially going through the Suez Canal. We love the idea of visiting new places, and we loved the opportunity to revisit some old favorites, especially Wadi Rum, in Jordan, where we lived in another life.
The trip itself took three weeks. We went early to Barcelona. I had been to Barcelona for an international quilt show years ago and loved it; I’ve been so eager for AdventureMan to experience the aliveness of Barcelona. We chose to go a few days early to enjoy the city.
We were traveling with Oceania, a line we haven’t sailed with before. People handle air reservations differently; we choose to let the cruise line set up the travel so that if there are changes (and in the last three years we saw lots of changes) the cruise line is ultimately responsible for getting us where we need to go.
It’s tough giving up our autonomy. This time, it was a struggle, and we finally paid extra for “custom” reservations when they kept offering us bizarre routes we didn’t want to take. At one point, we had reservations that were direct, and we liked, and then they changed, again, because of an airline time change, and we found the new ones unacceptable. At some point, we gave up. We accepted a bizarre routing and the fact that we were responsible for getting ourselves to Atlanta and back, not such a big deal, except for when things change. Right?
This is how we were routed to Barcelona: (Pensacola) – Atlanta – Detroit – Paris – Barcelona.
And here are the bags I took, except at the last minute I took everything out of the backpack and put it in a duffel, not much bigger but the space was more flexible.
We decided to go minimal and to carry everything with us. It caused a lot of agonizing, but in the end, I had everything I needed. It was enough. I think carry-on is a great idea, except it is such a hassle, I like the luxury of checking a bag and carrying a purse and a book. Having had bags go missing so many times in my life (they always caught up with us – eventually), we opted for this illusion of control.
Our first travel day was, in almost every way, a breeze. Our son picked us up on his way to work and dropped us at the airport, giving us time for a leisurely breakfast after an uneventful check-in. The flight schedule was eccentric, even convoluted, but every flight left on time and came in minutes early. Our last two flights of the day were with Air France and were delightful.
Getting to Barcelona took almost two days. We flew from Pensacola to Atlanta on our dime and picked up our cruise-related reservations in Atlanta. We checked in and had time for lunch at PF Changs. Out of Atlanta, we flew to Detroit – I’d never been to Detroit before. I had never seen a Great Lake in person. I was blown away by the vastness of Lake Erie and Lake Superior – so HUGE. I thought of Detroit and its terrible water problem and crumbling infrastructure, surrounded by water, and it seemed so infinitely sad.
Our flight out of Detroit was an Air France flight – we love Air France. Once we board an Air France, the vacation begins – they take such good of their passengers.
We had a late dinner on board; Air France does a really cool thing. They serve an appetizer course, an entree, a dessert, and drinks. They also have an express meal which is just the appetizer, bread (with French butter, better than butter I have had anywhere else), and desserts, and the dessert course features really tiny tastes. We chose the express, and then curled up and went to sleep.
I usually sleep badly on planes, but on this flight, it was all grown-ups and somehow it was mostly very quiet. I remember vaguely hearing a bell once when the air got a little turbulent, but it only awakened me slightly and I went back to sleep. My quick breakfast was yogurt and fruit and coffee, and boom, we were at Charles de Gaulle.
Big difference from prior times. While we love Air France, we always dreaded the bag drag through CdG. In years past, there were crowds pushing and snaking for hours, people pushing in line, people crying that they were going to miss their flight – it was a kind of purgatory for travelers. This time, however, it was streamlined, a piece of cake. We had a close connection, which we made with time to spare.
On the flight to Barcelona, we had a snack meal, and AdventureMan had wine, I had coffee. I asked for more, and Sophia, our flight attendant said “Oh, you like my coffee?” and I said “yes!” because it was really good. Then AdventureMan said “And I really like this wine” and she brought him a small bottle of white wine to take with him, then turned to me and said “And which wine would you like? White? Red?” and I chose a red Bordeaux, the start of our cabin collection since we don’t buy the ships drink package, but pay as we go.
We found the Oceania representative waiting outside the immigration door, and very shortly, she had us taken to our hotel with Ingrid and Juanita, who had also been on our flight. We heard Ingrid speaking harshly to Juanita, and Ingrid caught our exchanged glance and said “Oh I’m just bossy. Juanita is 92 and I have to keep her organized.”
While Juanita was toting two large bags, she might have a hearing problem and might need Ingrid’s explanations and organizing. I was amazed at how strong Juanita was.
This is a longer trip than we usually take, with a variety of temperatures. I have a small carry-on suitcase and a small duffel. They were not stuffed. Our airports are huge, however, and when you have to tote two bags from gate to gate, even take trains or underground trams and still walk a long way, those bags can get heavy. I told AdventureMan that it is different when we go West and wear jeans and casual clothes all the time and no one cares, a cruise ship is a different situation. If our future is carry-on, we will need to go on shorter cruises.
The upside is you just whiz through customs – no waiting around at the baggage carousel. So I like the carry-on idea, I just don’t like the reality of toting bags.
The limousine driver was kind and helpful and gave us lots of good information on the way to our hotel, the Hotel Barcelona Almanac.
“Has Your Wardrobe Changed?”
I was on my hands and knees, sandwiching two new quilts when AdventureMan seated himself near me and asked if he should take his grey-green pants on the upcoming trip. With all the baggage insecurity going around, we’ve made a decision to take a carry-on bag and one personal item, and skip checked luggage altogether.
Being the kind of person who used to over-study for tests, this is causing me some anxiety. I told him that the pants did not coordinate with enough of his wardrobe to make them useful, to stick with the tried-and-true khakis which used to be his staple, and his blue jeans, which will get him through some of the more rugged places.
More than once, we’ve had luggage go missing. It always caught up with us, but once – in Lusaka, we were headed out into the bush the next day and had only our traveling clothes and night clothes – and, thank God, some shoes. We grabbed a taxi and found a street mall with a combination grocery and department store, stocked with camo and green clothing from China which was more or less apropos. We couldn’t be choosy, and we were thankful to find something that would get us through until, we hoped, our baggage showed up. I still love the thick green socks I found; they have worn like iron.
But this is different, this is not the bush, it is a lengthy cruise, and I am trying to pack enough cool-weather clothing for cooler places, warm-weather clothing for places that are pretty hot even when they have cooled off, and clothes for dining in specialty restaurants with a dress code. I need clothes which will be modest. I need something for just hanging around. I’ve saved old swimsuits I can wear and leave behind, so that’s one thing solved.
“We’ve never lived in one place this long, ever,” AdventureMan continued, “and I have clothes I never wear anymore, things that have just become irrelevant. I keep thinking I need to get rid of more, like the pleated pants and the dress shirts, but it’s hard, I wonder if I might need them. Does that happen with you?”
I pause in my pinning and laugh. I have one dress in three different colors, another dress in two colors, and two jean skirts. I have a winter hooded dress in five colors. I am not a big shopper, so when I find something that works, I go with multiples.
Meanwhile, yes, AdventureMan, I have that other closet full, like you, with just-in-case clothes. I still have what is left of my evening dresses. I have clothing for in case I have a business meeting, or a funeral, things maybe I’ve worn once or twice since moving here. I have the odd specialty pieces, like Christmas clothing. When will I be ready to part with my cold-weather clothing, so beautiful and once so expensive?
I laugh and tell him all the above, and then tell him that of all the clothes I wear, I still have the clothes which were made for me in Qatar and Kuwait, copies of one particular Coldwater Creek linen dress which I had copied in both linen and cotton. I have three left. I’ve been wearing them for fifteen years, and they still look like new.
“I’ve taken them in,” I tell him because I’m smaller than I was when I was relatively sedentary in Kuwait. “And I’ve taken the hems up at least twice as I’ve gotten more used to being back in America. People tell me I look nice – they used to ask me if I was a missionary wife,” I added, and we both laughed. When you live in a different culture for a while, you become adapted to local ways. I remember how disconcerting it was in summers coming back to the USA and finding all the women shockingly and scantily dressed in their sleeveless dresses and shorts and T-shirts, even respectable women and I knew the change was in me and my perceptions, not in my culture.
I am thinking the backpack will be my Godsend. I am hoping I still have the strength and energy to run through Charles de Gaulle airport with the backpack on my back, lifting the carry-on if we need to run up or down stairs. I am thinking I can strap the backpack onto the carry-on handle in the straight places. I am thinking whatever I take will be enough; I am hoping it might even be a matter of discovering I have overpacked a little less than before.
It’s a curious mentality you develop when you’re nomadic. You become aware of so many possibilities, things that can go wrong, and things you might need, so you are always thinking “just in case.”
We have a backup plan. We know there is a Carrefour (large French supermarket) in walking distance to our hotel, so we can stock up on things we don’t have room to pack, or which we can’t carry on-board an airplane – manicure scissors, needles, sun protection, and some good bottles of dry red wine for our cabin. My list gives me a small illusion of control.
I take a deep breath and remind myself that this is our get-away, our escape, and that anxiety is counter-productive. We will be fine. Enough is enough, it will be a grand adventure.
Grenada, Spain; One of the Most Beautiful Cities on Earth
Did you know the Spanish word for pomegranate is “grenade?” I didn’t know that either, but pomegranate is one of my favorite fruits. When I was a little girl, my mother would buy me a pomegranate now and again (these were not common where I grew up) because of the legend of Persephone. I was heavy into Greek and Roman mythology and she encouraged my explorations.
Grenada in named for the pomegranates. They grow everywhere in Grenada, and were in full fruit when we visited. After some of the rainy touring days we had, Grenada shone forth in warm sunshine and blue skies with perfect clouds for photo-taking. We toured the town, and then (dramatic pause) (hushed voice) we visited the Alhambra.
What I have loved about this journey is the intermingling of Arabic in the Spanish; Guadalquivir River “wadi al kebir”, Alhambra “al hamra”, and it really is very red. And it really is very beautiful, so very beautiful in glorious detail. I’m going to bore you with more photos than you ever wished to see because . . . well, I hate to be rude, but . . . it’s my blog. I love each and every photo.
This is our group, gathering around our guide to enter the Alhambra.
If this were a fabric, I would have a dress made of it. I loved the intricate intersection, and the blending of the blue and cream and brown.
This is my favorite photo, for any number of reasons, cats, light and shadow, intricate tracery on columns, etc. but it is also a reminder of a very strange occurrence. I had just finished taking this shot, hunched down for a low angle, when a young woman in a group of four came along and shoved others, and then me, out of the way. Literally, she took my arm and started to move me and said “we’re taking a group photo now.”
Normally, I tend to defer, but her arrogance, and her disregard for the feeling of others prickled me, and so I pulled my arm away and looked at her cooly, and said “as soon as I am done with my photo, I will move and you can take your shot. Or you can shoot it from another angle.” I don’t know why I did that, I am surprised at myself. I don’t like to cause trouble. But who has the right to shove others out of the way???
That is the memory this photo brings back.
Please look at this photo, not that it is anything special but because there are people in it. I want you to appreciate how really, really, very hard it was to take some of these photos without people in them. I had to wait and wait, sometimes, (gasp!) I even got separated from my group for a short time, in the interest of getting an unimpeded shot. We were there at a lovely time of the year, perfect weather, and we thought there would not be too many tourists. We were astonished, in Seville, in Cordoba, in Grenada just how many tourists there were.
And here is where AHI Travel did something really right. This is the last day of the tour, tomorrow we all disembark and head for the Malaga airport and from there, to places scattered around the world. Just a short walk from the Alhambra is a beautiful hotel, beautifully situated, the Alhambra Palace. We’ve made note of it because we intend to come back to Grenada, and we want to stay in this hotel. This is where we ate lunch.
Our group had a closed in verandah with a beautiful view. Lunch was served in courses, and each was carefully prepared, and delicious. Very very clever way to end the tours on a high note 🙂
The room was beautiful. The table service was beautiful.
The view was beautiful.
After the meal, we got back on the bus to head back for the ship. Once on board, we had a Smithsonian meeting and then another lecture and then dinner, and something happened that has not happened to me for a long time, I had to pack at the last minute. Our suitcases had to be outside our door before we went to bed so they could be loaded to go, very early the next morning, to the airport.
I was coming down with something. I felt hot and feverish, and my nose was running. All my life, I have had nightmares about last minute packing. I hate doing last-minute anything, I am a planner, I like having a certain amount of control over my life, even though it is an illusion, it is an illusion I work hard to maintain. How did this happen to me? How is it that I am packing at the last minute, feverish and anxious?
It all got done. Fortunately, there are a limited number of places you can put things. For some reason, I am not able to download all our boarding passes, so we have only the first ones and will have to get the rest at the airport. I know where my passport is (I never have found the one I lost somewhere in my office) and my tickets and somehow we are finished and all is well by bedtime. I just hate that feeling of being rushed; when I am rushed, I make mistakes.
Every now and then something good happens. There is a huge line in Malaga, but our new friends also have tickets that put us in another line, and we get through quickly, with no problems. We say goodbye, we’ve exchanged e-mail addresses, and we go our separate ways. We have time to relax.
We arrive in Paris barely on time, and it is a Sunday morning with long lines at security, and there is no way out, we have to stand in line. We watch one very elderly man, unsteady, but with a great sense of humor, cope as he has to go through the full-body scan. Even though it is a few days before the bombing, security is tight. The airport is a nightmare. We have no idea where our next gate is, and we are almost running, as it is already our boarding time and we are not there. We have to go down this hall and that, then down to some gate where we catch a bus, then from that bus to somewhere else where we get to our plane with five or ten minutes to spare. That is cutting it way to close for me, but I know by now that I am coming down with one of the world’s worst colds and I sleep all the way from Paris to Atlanta, waking up now and ten to drink some Pomegranate Pizazz with honey to make the cold go away.
Not only does the cold not go away – I very generously shared it with AdventureMan. We both felt so bad we were sleeping all the time and didn’t even notice the jet lag 🙂 so by the time we were well again, we were also sleeping on Pensacola time. As soon as we were well, we got the super-strong flu shots to protect ourselves from anything worse than we’ve just had. 🙂
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