Mediterranean 2009: Foreward

This log was maintained with the intention of chronicling the daily activities of a small group of travel companions: James R. Talbott, Lisa A. Talbott, Christopher E. Stricklin, Daniel H. Tudor, and Tonna (Ton) L. Tudor, during their 2009 expedition to the Mediterranean countries of Italy, Greece, and Turkey. Let it be known that the author of this work abstained from many evening activities to spend grueling hours acting in the capacity of Trip Historian even though another member of the group holds not only a degree in History, but is also finishing a Masters degree in Writing, which would appear to make him an ideal candidate for the position. What a jerk.

That being said, let us give thanks to those who made our journey as beautiful, wonderful, and easy as it was: The Romanian Tudors.

We owe them so much.

Mediterranean 2009: Saturday 25 July

9:30 AM

Dan picks us up in Bellevue to keep us from paying extortionate parking fees while we are away. Chris begins the ass-talking immediately re: the rental Xterra: "It's probably a 2007." This came out with no provocation and very little veracity,so was immediately followed by "what-the-hell-?" stares.

Had a bit of an issue checking in due to the ever present passport name issue (I don't know why airport employees can't manage to read an amended passport... or why the U.S. Government can't amend a passport in a readable manner...) I will skip over the conversation with the Delta rep who treated us as though we were mentally-challenged when we said we couldn't use the check in kiosks, but we were quickly sorted out by a rep at the desk and were able to make a strategic retreat to the Crown Room for a drink. I know, it's 10:00 am, but check in was stressful.

11:45 AM

Boarded Plane, began taxi; pilot tells us we are first in line to take off, when we immediately begin to slow down. As the engines stop completely, the pilot comes back on the intercom to tell us that there are delays in ATL (surprise surprise!) and we are to wait on the runway indefinitely. Typical. This is why we changed to an earlier flight, people. We have NEVER made it through ATL on time. EVER. Now someone's watch/phone/whatever alarm is sounding continually and our fellow travelers are getting rightfully testy. How about a free drink, Delta?? If they don't get some alcohol in these people, there is going to be chaos.

1:30 PM

Arrive in ATL, and Dan refuses to let us eat, as he is positive that he can get all 5 of us into the Crown Room on his "self plus guest" card. Apparently, he just needs to tell them that "Jack Stewart" said it was OK. We all look at each other, knowing Dan's proclivity for memory mishaps, and James asks him if he is SURE that Jack Stewart is the correct name. Dan waves an airy hand, says he is sure, and disappears into the recesses of the Crown Room's double doors. We wait a few minutes, our stomachs growling with both hunger and unease, until Dan pops back out, flapping his hand in a "come on in" gesture.
Now, for those of us who are skilled in the reading of Daniel Tudor's face, it was clear that though he was outwardly displaying joy and jollility, something was amiss. (It's all in the eyebrows, people.) It was also clear from the first utterance of the man at the desk that all was not gaiety and bliss: "You said there were two more. Now there are three." This in a deadpan, you-are-trying-my-patience type of voice, with the expression to match. Turns out, Jack Stewart was NOT the name of the man he was supposed to mention, in fact it was nothing CLOSE to the name he was supposed to mention, and on top of that disaster, there was also some misunderstanding about the number of people Dan was trying to sneak in, with the upshot of all this being that the clerk now thought Dan was attempting some sort of intricate conspiracy involving deliberate confusion and sleight of hand, instead of just being an idiot, which was the far closer to the truth. In the end, I believe the psychological trauma finally got to the poor desk attendant, and he let all five of us in, but with the caveat that he would be documenting Dan's account, whatever that means.

Anyhow, we all slunk into the lounge, past the desk clerk's gimlet eye, and found seats, whereupon Dan was swiftly reprimanded for attempting to consume a Jack & Coke. (His doctor has put a ban on all soft drinks due to a kidney stone the size of an Easter Island monolith, and frankly, none of us much feels like being hauled off of the boat when he starts howling in pain and becoming a nuisance to the general public.)
Met a very nice (and handsome) man in the lounge who gave us a few tips on touring Rome (for example, do not carry your wallet where it can be accessed by children highly skilled at item removal.) Much debating occurred later as to this man's nationality and heritage, with both Ton and I asserting that wherever he is from, their gene pool seems to be doing quite well...

4:15 PM

We have boarded our flight to Rome, and it has been made very clear to us why we usually prefer to fly in the area a bit nearer to the cockpit. As Wodehouse once said, these seats were built by one who knew that chairs were to be worn tight around the hips this season. Also, the crying infant in the adjacent row. (A real one, not Chris...) Spirits are, however, slightly higher since I wrote on Dan's head with a ball point pen from my strategic position in the rear seat. I'm always a team player.

Mediterranean 2009: Sunday 26 July

What a long, long day. To recap:

-Spent a rather rough night aboard our vessel of wrath. The seats reclined a comfortable 2 degrees aft and I am firmly convinced that they were manufactured in a combination of crushed glass and concrete by some sort of sociopath. James summed it up best with his brief statement: "Well, I think we have all learned something here..." Indeed we have, my friends. The rear of the plane is best left to articles such as luggage and livestock.

-Made our way through "passport control" (where they declined to either speak or stamp our passports) and "customs" (which was a doorway otherwise marked "exit") and took a rather long and involved trek to our Hilton Hotel (which Dan unsuccessfully argued could not possibly be down the route marked with a big letter "H" and a picture of a bed.)

-Checked in, showered, and attempted to nap, all relatively uneventfully, other than Chris nearly falling over his bed and through the window. I believe he fell out of his bed in Scotland as well, so perhaps we should discuss this with his pediatrician...

-Took the 12 O'clock shuttle downtown (this time it was Ton who didn't want to believe the clearly marked directional signs leading to the bus, but we managed to get there in the end.)

-Walked to the Coliseum to take photos, but unfortunately didn't have time to wait out the immense line to see the inside. Was highly amused by the men in plastic gladiator garb offering photo opportunities, especially the one who topped off his attire with high-tops and a baseball cap. Hollywood should take note for Gladiator II: Kickin' It Old School.

-Took a cab to the Vatican; had to separate as no vehicles were available to carry five passengers. James, Chris, and I drew a driver who was not perhaps the most talkative gentleman, but he drove like a bat out of hell and we had a blast. It was like an ancient Roman version of Disney's Thunder Mountain, and I think he appreciated all the yelling and clapping of his backseat passengers. Unsure of which historic sites went rushing past the windows, or even if any pedestrians were killed during the flight, but it was fun nonetheless.

-Arrived, somehow, at the Vatican, and upon perusal of the three-mile line wrapped around the complex, decided to pay our visit to the holy sites on the morrow. Dan plotting our future on his Blackberry through emails and calls to London (???). I'd have thought his Mafia contacts would be a bit nearer to hand...

-Stopped for rest and lunch at a small cafe near Vatican City where they hustled us inside and rapidly wedged two tiny tables into a corner to accommodate our number.
After a brief perusal of the selected offerings, Ton tried to order artichokes and Chris requested pizza, both of which were quickly rejected by the attending proprietress for reasons which were never really made clear. Somehow we all ended up with bruschetta (which was, admittedly, excellent) along with the following line-up:

Ton: Gnocchi with a side of meatballs, and a side of mushrooms
Lisa: Fettuccini alfredo (despite the heat and her lack of appetite)
James: Fettuccini alfredo
Chris: Gnocchi, (which he had never heard of) also with a side of meatballs and mushrooms
Dan: Pasta with clams

Upon arrival, the food was quite good, though I ate very little due to a combination of sore throat and too much sun. (I was therefore compelled to request a useless to-go box, in order to bypass the inevitable chef-coming-to-the-table-to-indignantly-request-reasons-for-not-finishing-his-food incident. I really hate those confrontations...) My leftovers went into a refuse bin in the next street, and Dan almost did the same when he saw the bill for lunch, which came to a grand total of €165, or approximately $300.00. These little old Italian women could teach American used car salesmen a thing or two. Glad we didn't go with the vino...

-Forgot to mention that I entered my own personal hell in the Vatican gift shop. If Jesus ever does come back, I can't imagine he'll enjoy it much either. They aren't exactly invoking his happiest days...

-Approximately 3 pm, and heavy debating occurs regarding whether we spend €40 on a cab to the hotel or wait 2 hours for the free shuttle. Thanks to Daniel, we wait. In 95 degree heat. With no shade. Anywhere. Ton and I tried to amuse ourselves by counting women in unflattering tube tops, while Chris moaned about the fact that he hadn't slept in approximately 4 hours. Dan made a foray down the street to get a drink, and much speculation occurred on whether or not he was sneaking a forbidden Coke. I still maintain that he was and that he'll do it again if not strictly monitored.
When the bus finally lumbered into port, (and sat with the air conditioning conveniently turned off,) Chris promptly boarded and fell asleep, whereupon I felt it my duty to kick him awake so that he could suffer with the rest of us. Following this, he decided on a tactical maneuver that involved falling into the aisle while attempting to change seats. In a sense, it was highly successful, as I was too disabled by laughter to mount another attack, but there were severe casualties in the regions of his shins. During this exchange, James was nearly disemboweled by a child with a parasol who somehow ended up in his lap... Rome is a friendly place.

-Back at the hotel (three hours later, and much sweatier than was strictly necessary) we wearily plodded to our rooms for refreshing showers, only to find that the keys for our entire hallway had been deactivated. I collapse into a lobby chair while James returns to the front desk to rectify the situation, and Chris heads to the public restroom to "take care of business."

-Finally get into room, showered, etc. Try to print Express Passes for ship, and, of course, the website shows no record of our reservation. Did we really expect anything else? I guess we'll just show up tomorrow and hope for the best.

-7:45 pm, and Chris is already asleep, the little weenie. Please recall that he is the only member of our little group who slept on the plane during the flight over... and took a nap when he got here... and fell asleep on the bus. Before he succumbed, however, he was forced to unplug the lamp next to his bed, as he was unable to divine the mechanism for turning it off. I believe it is called a "switch" and is located near the bulb. Really can't wait to see how he manages with his own house...

**Side notes from today:
On the bus:
"The coliseum is just around the corner."- Dan; stated at approximately every other intersection during the 45 minute ride into Rome.

As we exit the bus:
Chris: "So I guess we're near the Vatican."
Lisa: "Why?"
Chris: "Well, just from what I've seen on TV and things..."
This being said with no specific point of reference in mind, and nowhere near the Vatican.

At the Coliseum:
I am forced, regardless of the public nature of the venue, to extract a small winged insect from the inside of my nasal passage. Italian bugs have no sense of propriety or personal space. It must be a European thing.

Coliseum

$300 Lunch

Mediterranean 2009: Monday 27 July

Woke at 5:00 am to meet the driver Dan hired (through calls to London, no less) to take us around the city this morning. Had a rough night as I coughed and Chris snored, although Mr. Stricklin was not too bothered to get his 13 hours of restorative slumber.

Our driver, Antonio, was very nice and managed to renew our interest in Rome as a city worth visiting. Our initial impression was not overly impressive... nice features as far as history, but on the whole, not some place we were just dying to come back to. Anyhow, he gave us some great background information on the city and well as pointing out sites of interest (such as the balcony where Mussolini gave his speeches.) We spent a few moments at the Trevi Fountain (Tivoli Fountain, to Dan) and had a chance to walk down the Spanish Steps, where due to the early hour we were lucky enough to have both sites almost exclusively to ourselves. We then drove to the Vatican, where Antonio managed to convince us that we would need our passports due to the distinct and separate nature of the state before laughing hysterically at our dismayed reactions. He was, however, correct in stating that I would need to purchase a shawl to cover my shoulders, so with that crisis averted, we made our way into a nearly empty St Peter's Basilica.

Once inside, I think we were all a bit shocked by the sheer decadence and splendor displayed by a religious order. (Well, I know this was certainly the first thought that went through MY mind, anyhow.) This became especially galling when one of the priests appeared to have been mightily upset by my attire (noticeable by his vigorous pointing, scowling, and head shaking, first at me, then in attempt to direct the attention of others to my obvious evil virtue.) Considering that my attire consisted of a full, below the knee skirt, sweater top, shawl, and dress sandals, I was unclear on how, exactly I had managed to insult the entire Catholic faith. It seemed to be the shoes which really attracted his ire, which I just couldn't quite understand, because the nuns who were standing next to me were also wearing sandals. Go figure.

Now, I realize that my knowledge of religious history is shaky at best, but I have studied a good bit of Christian and Catholic art, and at least in all of the paintings I have seen, I am pretty sure Jesus his-freakin'-self wore sandals. He also extolled the virtues of the poor, whom, I am sure, do not carry the necessary capital to purchase attire that will please the priest on duty. But I guess logic never did have much place in religion, so never mind. I'd also like to point out to anyone planning a visit that there are numerous strategically placed grates on the floor of the cathedral which only become noticeable when you suddenly feel a draft begin to blow around your nether regions... So I'll apologize for my offensive footwear when they apologize for looking up my dang skirt...

Anyhow, once past the withering glares of passing priests, we exited the Temple to World Domination and rejoined our driver for a quick jaunt through a lovely square that was oddly reminiscent of Lima, Peru. Fountains, architecture, and cafes, all very similar. Just strangely missing the Italian restaurants that so dominated the Peruvian cuisine. Maybe Italy has eateries specializing in fried guinea pig as a sort of cultural exchange?

Note:
The Sistine Chapel would not be open until later in the day, which precluded us from a visit. A heavy disappointment for everyone, but we did get to see the Pieta inside St Peter's which was beyond impressive. Would have loved to have seen it without the surrounding glass, but I suppose it is a necessary precaution these days.... Also, let me point out, that Jesus is not appropriately attired in this piece for visitation of St Peters... just saying....

11:00 AM

Managed to find our Cruise Meeting Point (after one or two misfires) and were able to immediately board a bus to the port of Civitavecchia. Ride was uneventful, although we had to re-do a good bit of paperwork as we didn't have our printed Express Passes. This ended up being a moot point as the lines were extremely short at the check in desk, so the pass was not really needed anyways.

Upon boarding the ship, we had the obligatory embarkation photo, which was passable, and the necessary security photo, which was horrible. Whoever designed a system which requires the subject to look forward and down while posing for a photo is an overt misanthrope, because views of nasal cavities and double chins abounded.

Once past the camera jockeys, we were greeted with mimosas and brought to the 14th floor, where we were happily immersed in an immense lunch buffet. Dan claims that he saw snake on one menu: I maintain that it was steak. (I will let my knowledgeable readers decide for themselves on this one, taking into account Mr. Tudor's past history and proclivities.)

It was also at this time period that one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of the century surfaced: "Dan Tudor and the Case of the Mysterious Phone Call." A random caller showed up on Mr. Tudor's caller ID, and for no apparent reason, much time was devoted to the resolution of this enigma; it is, however, this author's belief that the miscreant will remain at large, committing his crimes again and again, destined to be enshrined in Madame Tussaud's along with the crème de la crème of the underworld. With Ton playing Watson to Dan's Sherlock Holmes, this is the only outcome I can foresee.

6:15 PM
Had martinis at the aptly named Martini Lounge (which seemed only appropriate), then sauntered into dinner where we marveled at the beautiful decor and stunning glasswork. (If I had to put a name to the style, I suppose I would call it "Updated Old Hollywood"... a great deal of silver and glass; deco beginnings with a very streamlined glamour.) As we were led to our seats, I believe all of us began to get a bit tense: we were passing the main dining area, heading for a small enclave that appeared to be situated in a rather undesirable area behind the kitchens. Frankly, we were pretty sure that we had been assigned the worst table in the house (ship).... until we passed a small partition and realized that our table sat directly next to a huge picture window overlooking the sea. Absolutely spectacular, and we couldn't have asked for better.

Dinner was phenomenal, and the service exquisite. James ordered wine and, neglecting to make it clear to the steward that he required only a glass, was given an entire bottle of California red. Considering that the wine had been recommended by the sommelier, and having no earthly idea what it may cost, this caused a slight amount of stress until we were finally given the bill at the summation of the meal. We were ecstatic to find that it was only $60, as we had just been hoping to find it under $200.

8:30 PM
Chris went to a singles mixer after a great amount of cajoling (he didn't know where it was, he didn't know when it was, he had a headache, he had decided he was gay, etc)... Of course, once his lost, tardy, headachy, gay self got there, he found that no one else had shown up, but at least he gave it the old Stricklin try. Gotta give him a high-five for that, at least.

9:30 PM
Headed to bed. If either boy snores and keeps me awake, I will shove him in a duffle bag and slide him under the bed. Or out into the hall. I'm pretty sure they'll just take him down to storage...

Notes from today:

-Ton's iPod was stolen from her bag somewhere between Rome and Civitavecchia. I had a bad feeling about leaving that bag with the porters, but she thought she had taken everything of value out of it. Thankfully she remembered her jewelry....


Plan for Tuesday 28th:
8:00-8:30 AM: Starboard decks, view of active volcano Stromboli
10:00 AM : a) Athenian Democracy Class
b) Strait of Messina
c) Bocce Ball Class (10:15)

11:00 AM : Hot Glass Workshop
1:15 PM : History of Rome Class
2:30 PM : Wine Tasting
3:30 PM : Greek Language Class
6:15 PM : Dinner (Formal)
8:30 PM : Captain's toast

Michelangelo's (inappropriately dressed) Pieta


Trevi Fountain

Mediterranean 2009: Tuesday 28 July

Slept late, didn't get up and out until approximately 11:30. So much for the plan, eh? First sleep I have had since Friday night. Boys rose early to see the passing volcano and take a class on Bocce Ball (which was easier for Chris as he has slept like a baby ever since we got on the damned plane.)

Had some issues in the buffet with people jumping in line and taking the last of the food, but was able to wait for lunch, which was almost ready to be served anyways. Learned a valuable lesson about coming to breakfast late: you will be required to defend your place and the remaining food with vigor and ferocity. People say that Americans are rude, but quite frankly, at least WE understand the concept of waiting in line.

Chris, Ton, and I took in a lecture on the history of Rome, which I thought was a bit broad, but I suppose that is what you get when you compress a thousand years into 45 minutes.

I bowed out of wine tasting, but apparently, Dan now has a blood feud with a man who cut in the line ahead of him and he plans to duel it out at dawn. His choice of weapon is a basketball. I personally would have opted for something a bit sharper, or with a bit more firepower, but Dan is apparently very sure of his skill. Now all he needs is to pick Chris as his second, and this can't possibly get any better.

Had a brief Greek language lesson in the afternoon, short phrases and useful words, which will hopefully be helpful in Santorini tomorrow. I actually bought Lonely Planet Italian, Greek, and Turkish travel phrase books, but they are, of course, very usefully laying on my bedroom dresser at home at the moment.

Dinner tonight was formal, boys in suits, Ton in the silver dress she wore to my wedding, me in the blue Evan Picone. Meal was superb again (Chateaubriand) although I had to quell a debate at the table behind me regarding the content of my shoulder tattoo (which probably caused the debaters far more embarrassment than myself.) Perhaps I should begin carrying a card inscribed with Donne's Meditation XVII, just to make things easier?

Went to the Captain's toast in the theater after dinner, and have to say that it was one of the most pleasant surprises of the trip thus far. He was incredibly funny and endearing, and if I had to place a wager I would think that there are hundreds of older single women currently hunting him through the corridors as I write this. I hope he has good security on his quarters, because he is going to need it. These cruise-going women are dangerous.

Headed to Santorini, Greece, tomorrow. We apparently ride donkeys up the cliffs to the town so that should be an adventure. This is when we need Audrey!! Team Ramazon Goes Mediterranean. I see a show for the Travel Channel in the works...

Notes for today:
-Rediscovered the joys of gummy Coke bottles. They are great at midnight while sitting on the top deck gazing at the sea...

The boys tear up the Bocce court...

Mediterranean 2009: Wednesday 29 July

Was reminded at breakfast by Ton to record a little quote by Mr. Stricklin regarding a 3/pack of mascara on sale in the boutique:
"Well, it'll probably go bad before you could use all of that anyways."
Because, apparently, mascara is now comprised almost entirely of eggs and dairy products? I'm not sure where he gets some of this stuff.

Of course, this was nothing compared to the conversation which ensued over the toast and coffee this morning, regarding the Honorable C. Stricklin's views on women:

The Hon. C. Strick: "I don't trust nude beaches. If you look good, why would you get naked for free?"

L. Talbott: "So all good looking women are either strippers or prostitutes?"

T.H.C.S.: "To a certain extent, yes. For money, or, you know, houses..."

It only deteriorated from there.

After Mr. Stricklin sustained a prolonged verbal and physical assault from both women present, we proceeded with our day's program, which involved tendering to the island of Santorini via ferry in small groups. This was, predictably, a fiasco, especially when a large group of Asians became separated and staged violent histrionics over their "lost" loved ones, who happened to be waiting patiently down one flight of stairs. After this dramatic encounter, our short boat ride was rather a relief.

Once on the "shore", which on Santorini, is the bottom of a huge and very steep cliff, Ton headed for the cable car, while Dan, James, Chris, and I waited a brief 15 minutes for the "donkeys" (mules) who were to haul us intrepid explorers up the nearly 900 steps to the top of the island. The path zig-zagged up the face of the cliff and the mules traversed at their own pace, dictated to by no one, especially bald Americans shouting "ándele!" I pass over the sight of Dan with his knees up around his ears (he was given the smallest animal on the island and the two of them together resembled a clown on a toy tricycle) or our attempts to explain that "ándele" is Spanish, whereas these donkeys in all probability spoke Greek, but the half hour long trip was fraught with entertainment. By the end, we were all hot and dusty, and Dan had been banned from ever returning, but it was great fun and well worth the pain that we will all feel on the morrow. (Frankly, Chris thought that Dan and the mule driver might come to blows; there was much shouting and gesticulating in Greek, with Dan yelling "Huhh??! HUH?!?!", but I guess they'll settle it the old fashioned way... on the basketball court.)

Anyhow, once Dan was removed from his rather diminutive mount, and the rest of us slid/fell/tumbled our way out of the saddle, we were dismayed to find that we had yet to reach the summit of the cliff. Approximately one-half mile and one near-collapse later, we arrived at the cafe where Ton had been waiting, cool and refreshed with a margarita, for the past three quarters of an hour. We were not thinking quite so charitably about our noble steeds at this time, but I suppose distance always lends perspective. Unfortunately, the only distance we were focused on at the time was that damned half mile. Uphill. Of steps. In 95 degree heat. It was a bit of rough going for one with a throat mass and one who was recently brought back from the dead. (In fact, Old Lazarus made a better go of it than I did... Even Stricklin made it up the steps without collapsing. I, on the other hand, just about pitched over the side of the hill.)

Anyhow, once we had sufficiently recovered with liquid restoratives, we took a leisurely walk through the narrow streets, browsing the shops and generally exploring the town. Bought Renee a lovely little bronze horse, and fell in love with a €650 sculpture of a primitive head, but was restrained by both common sense and James.

Had lunch in an outdoor cafe with a (distant) view of the sea: salads and gyros. Quite good, but much too hot to eat a whole lot, and the throat was still causing some issues, so I didn't get to enjoy it as much as I would have liked. Wandered around a bit more before we took the cable car back down to shore (much scarier than the donkeys!) and caught a ferry to the ship. Staff were handing out cold, wet towels, which were a God-send after the hot, sweaty day (mules!) and we were more than glad to get back to our cabins to take showers.

Boys are now up top to watch the sunset as we sail (I am of course, closeted in the room, chronicling the day's activities.) Heading for Mykonos, Greece, tonight.

Santorini was truly beautiful (and quite an adventure); wish we had had a bit more time to explore. Wish I had that damned sculpture of a primitive head!

View of Santorini

Fun with Donkeys

Mediterranean 2009: Thursday 30 July

Woke at 5:30 to rough waters in Mykonos. Were this a novel, I would have said that this was blatant foreshadowing...

Fell back asleep until we received a call from Dan that he had managed to obtain "0" tender passes (the earliest available) which he was eager to put to use. After frenzied showers and dressing, we rushed to the holding area for the gangway only to find that the waters were too rough for boarding; they were unable to tie the boats to the ship. A bit alarming, but not alarming enough to keep Chris and I from making a quick dash to the 14th floor for bacon and waffles while everyone else insisted upon hovering around the holding pen. Strick and I lost no time in describing the buttery goodness of each bite of waffle, nor the smoky flavor of the bacon. You know, just to help distract everyone from the waiting.

Once we were called, we boarded the small tender vessel along with, oddly enough, a man dressed as a dolphin. This served to divert our attention from the somewhat choppy waters and we had a relatively uneventful ride.

Once on the island, we battled epic force winds to wander around a warren of twisting streets, which Dan claims were purposely designed this way to confuse pirates (which I suppose is a possibility, although you must consider the source.) Shops were all closed due to the early hour, so we spent our time attempting to find our way out of the maze and back to the docks, which was probably all to the good of our bank accounts. When we did manage to emerge, we found and purchased tickets for the ferry to Delos, an archeological site approximately 30 minutes away by sea, and something Dan was very keen to get to. We were later to wonder whether this decision was wise, as:
a.) there were 20 foot swells crashing into the boat, and
b.) the trip led to the first major rift within the lute of our little band.

Regarding the journey, the pilot was extraordinarily skillful, as the voyage could have been far worse than it was (the water was beyond rough). Ton was less than thrilled with the entire process, and Chris required a seat change to quell nausea, but everyone emerged intact.

The archeological site (Delos) was as to be expected: columns, a few sculptures, and a lot of piled stones. Perhaps it would have been better without the gale force winds.

We ate lunch at a small cafe near the museum that served fresh orange juice and sandwiches, and the less said about that lunch, the better. Suffice it to say that later I told Chris I was sorry he was an ass, and he told me he was sorry I made him be an ass, so we made it up in a round-about sort of way.

As for the rest of the trip to Delos, Dan tripped and tore up his arm, numerous people were sick on the return ride (though none of our group, thankfully), so whether or not it was worth €10 each is highly debatable. I am rather of the opinion that it was not, as I prefer to not watch people vomit in enclosed public spaces.

As of now, Dan is sick in bed, and everyone else is cranky and exhausted, so hopefully we will recover for Istanbul tomorrow.

Notes for today:

- Delos sucked. The end.

Strange boat companions


Pirate Streets of Mykonos



Ruins of Delos. Also ruiner of good times.
 

Mediterranean 2009: Friday 31 July

Sailed into Istanbul at about noon. Completely overwhelmed by the sheer size of the city; every part of the skyline is punctuated my minarets, which makes it quite an awesome sight. Very easy to see why this is called the gateway between East and West. It looks as if all the world's cultures simply collided into one colossal heap and somehow formed a city.

Began our guided tour at 1:15 on bus number 22 with a guide called Salem. We drove to the "Old City", passing the Bosphorus and the Golden Horn, getting a spectacular view of the world's only intercontinental bridge.

We arrived at the Topkapi Palace, but it was hard to tear ourselves away from the stunning sight of the Blue Mosque just a short distance away. Framed by a lovely park with fountains and trees, just to stand outside this magnificent piece of architecture and hear the call to prayer was sublime.

As Salem herded us into the palace, we found that it was also indeed impressive, with Eastern architecture (domes and spires) and beautiful courtyards of cypress, palm, and flowering trees. The museum rooms held ceremonial robes, jeweled swords, and other antiquities, but unfortunately, these areas were not air conditioned, and the addition of the masses did little to assist the atmosphere. We scanned the exhibits first at a trot, then at something closer to a canter, and by the time we neared the last few rooms I believe we had hit a full-on gallop. We did manage to catch a glimpse of the 80 carat diamond (wow!) as well as a casket full of cut emeralds (even more wow!) as we sweated our way through, and I must say that these rivaled anything I have seen in the Tower of London as far as display of wealth in terms of jewels.

Anyhow, we sat in the shade for a bit to try to catch to some fresh air after our exertions (we had about 30 minutes before we were required to meet our group) and I was able to do a bit of sketching while James bought what was apparently a $7.00 Coke. And to think, a man who tosses money away like this on such frivolities turned his nose up at a €650 sculpture in Santorini? What gives here??

Next, we moved on to the Saint Sophia, or Hagia Sophia (pronounced Aya SO-phia) to see the 1000 year old dome at its center. It is currently being restored, but even so, it is still one of the most amazing sites we have yet seen. 1000 years old, and it has survived earthquakes over 7.5 on the Richter scale numerous times. Unbelievable. The frescos and mosaics, many in gold leaf, are exquisite, again, all the more so for their age and for their method of construction.

We were able to climb to the second level to get a better view of the marble floor and the mosaics, and this is where things went terribly, terribly wrong. I suppose since the Old Man fell yesterday, Ton felt it was only fair that she do so today. Somehow, on the ramp back down to the ground floor, she twisted an ankle on one side, and broke a toe on the other. (The smashed toenail on the injured foot looked so awful that it gave us ALL the heebie-jeebies.) Thankfully Hagia Sophia was our last stop on the tour for the day, so we headed straight back to the ship, where the attending doctor took x-rays and wrapped it all up. The ankle is only a nasty sprain, but he wants to send her to an orthopedist tomorrow, which means that she will miss the trip across the bridge to Asia, the Blue Mosque and the Bazaar. Hopefully they will give her a brace so she can continue on with most of the activities for the rest of the trip. James and I sent chocolate covered strawberries to her room, so if that doesn't help, I don't know what will.

Blue Mosque


Hagia Sophia; I'm pretty sure the sign says "Watch your step."


Topkapi Palace


A Romanian Tudor goes down for the count...

Mediterranean 2009: Saturday 1 August

Woke early to meet Salem and good old bus # 22 on the dock at 7:00 am. Dan was finally convinced to come along (leaving Ton to brave the Turkish hospital on her own, which she was perfectly willing to do) so we were just a foursome today.

Began our day with a drive over the Intercontinental Bridge to the Asian side of Istanbul, and stopped near the Bosphorus for photos. The Asian side was less developed and rather prettier than the European side, and apparently, land values reflect that change. Also found it interesting that they have outdoor exercise parks, like playgrounds, but with public exercise equipment near the river. Was wondering how long that would last in the States (would the equipment be stolen, or would it just perish from lack of use?) when two rather garish and overweight twins from the ship appeared and began to pose for photographs on various apparatus. Giggling girlishly, these youngish ladies(whom I have dubbed Lula Belle and Lula Mae) epitomized ridiculous Americans: "Hey Ma, look at me on this ridik-ilis contraption! Snap my pitcher, ma! When do I get my Big Mac?" It was straight out of King of the Hill, and I am beyond embarrassed for us.

Anyhow, we re-boarded bus #22 and headed back to the Blue Mosque, where today we were able to enter. It was, of course, lovely, but honestly it was nothing compared to the Hagia Sophia, or even the Citadel in Cairo. (We had a long discussion this evening about the fact that we are perhaps a bit jaded, as we have been fortunate enough to see some of the greatest wonders and antiquities in the world. I suppose it is only to be expected that one would begin to be less impressed with a thousand year old sculpture in poor condition, when you have seen those that are 4000 years old and flawless, etc. It is always best to appreciate each place and experience for what it is , but it is difficult not to make comparisons, no matter how hard you may try. Perhaps that is why I am so keen to see Asia? I have seen and know so little of their history and culture, so it would all be very different and new....)

Anyways, after the Blue Mosque, we were taken for the obligatory rug and carpet weaving demonstration... a high pressure sales pitch disguised as cultural enlightenment. The pieces were truly beautiful, and were we independently wealthy I would have gladly sent home more than one, but they were far (FAR) beyond our means. A small silk rug (2' x 4') of a hunt scene particularly caught my eye, but this alone was somewhere around $4200.00. The salesman showed me a framed piece that was approximately 8" square, a Tree of Life woven so tightly that it lists in Guinness as the third most knots per square inch for silk rugs. It was honestly one of the most amazing pieces of artistry I have ever seen. And the price tag on it was $26,000.00. Needless to say, we left the store empty handed...

When we were finally able to herd our group out of the flooring dealership, we headed to the Grand Bazaar, which we had all been greatly looking forward to. I was hoping to bring home a few gifts from Istanbul (which seemed to me to be the most exotic and exciting place on our trip) and this would seem be the perfect opportunity. Right?? Oh, how the scales fell from my eyes, my friends. It was an indoor bazaar, which already lends a rather claustrophobic air to the atmosphere, and once you begin your wanderings through the various narrow passageways, harried by vendors at every turn, you soon begin to feel like a desperate rabbit being pursued by ferrets through an endless warren. You dodge this way and that, but sooner or later you know that you will come to a blocked run and you will be cornered by a ferret who will try to sell you a variety of scarves all of which are must haves for the fashionable rabbits of this season. It is nerve-wracking, to say the least, and the four of us dodged and wove with a glassy headlamp-in-the-eyes stare.

In all honesty, we learned very quickly not to make eye contact with either the vendors or their goods, as this would bring on an onslaught of frenzied selling and harassment. And being the rabbits that we are, this made us want to run, and run fast. So, in an hour's time, Dan purchased some scarves (a must have for this season) and a silver tray (genuine antique!), and James bought some tea for the neighbor who is looking after Alice ...and I believe that was about it. Besides the immense stress of the experience, the prices actually seemed rather high in general, and there was really very little that seemed worth both the money and the hassle.

As we made our way out of the Hell that was the Bazaar, we (of course) got lost, but miracle of all miracles, Dan "Shortcut" Tudor, actually got us back on the right path and we made it back to #22 in good time. (We had been warned that it was very important to be back to our designated meeting place at the correct time, as our schedule was very tight due to our lunch reservations and our need to be back to the ship before sailing. These trivialities, however, did not stop two female members of our group from being 10 minutes late, and we subsequently left them there, which I thoroughly applaud.)

On the way to lunch, we were lucky enough to see a few pods of black porpoises leaping through the water, which was thrilling. Sorry that Ton wasn't there for those, but frankly it was the only part of today that I think she would be terribly disappointed to have missed.

Lunch was good, five courses of different traditional Turkish cuisine (much like what we think of as Greek food: hummus, gyros, etc.) Was a little startled by the fake Turkish waiter who stood in one corner, and am still unclear on what appeared to be very British Tudor architecture on the building, timbering and all, but the whole thing was enjoyable none-the-less.

The two women who missed the bus at the bazaar showed up at the restaurant about halfway through, angry that they had not been allowed to just get on someone else's tour bus and take lunch with them, and clearly not understanding that they had made any sort of transgression by refusing to keep an adequate time schedule. (So yet again, we are embarrassed by idiotic Americans. Maybe they are related to Lula Belle and Lula Mae?) They apparently decided to take a cab to the restaurant, as they were not willing to give up a free meal, but I am quite sure that they will be complaining to the ship about the extra cost. Classy.


After lunch we headed back to the ship, where Chris somehow managed to drop his boarding card UNDER the bus without even noticing. Classic C. Stricklin, all the way. A little man from Hong Kong made a very pretty and rather formal presentation of a tip to Salem "for his services and information" which was terribly kind and sweet, considering Salem had been rather short with him throughout the entire two days. Then again, Salem wasn't necessarily the friendliest of guides to much of anyone, so hopefully he wasn't singling the poor little fellow out...

Once back on board (after Chris made an extensive search and retrieval for his boarding card) we all went to see Ton, who spent an exciting day in a Turkish hospital. (A Turkish hospital may not be as exciting as a Turkish prison, but I am sure it will be well worth hearing about....) She apparently received extremely good care due to a mistaken belief that she belonged to the Romanian Tudor family, so that is all to the good, but am a bit concerned about who these Romanian Tudors are and why they are so well known? Really would hate to find that we are suddenly being shot at for crimes against humanity... The Tudors throughout history haven't really been known for their philanthropy... Anyhow, for right now, her ankle is doing quite well (she can walk carefully, as long as she avoids inclines and stairs) but her toe on the other foot is still in a good bit of pain. Apparently, they considered "drilling" into the nail to relieve pressure, and as to that I am afraid I will have to leave off, as it rather gives me the screaming meemies. The main point is that she will be able to get up and out in Ephesus and Athens, although she will need to temper her activities a bit.

So, 9:00 am tomorrow, James, Chris, and I head out on a walking tour of Ephesus; Dan and Ton will be joining the elderly and disabled in a short bus, tooling around and discussing their various surgeries and health issues.

Have heard from numerous sources that Ephesus is supposed to be THE highlight of the trip, so we'll have to do our best to appreciate what it has to offer without saying something obnoxious like "Well, you know, in ASWAN..." Hoping it is more impressive than Delos, although with the earthquakes they have had here it is surprising that they have much standing, anywhere.

Notes from today:

-Boys both tried escargot in an attempt prove their sophisticated palates, but no one was brave enough to have a go at the sweetbreads...

-Dan keeps calling Ephesus "Emphasis" so tomorrow should be interesting when he gets in amongst the rest of the old dodderers. Wish we could attach a tape recorder to him for that one.

-Dan also very kindly explained to us that "most of the big shipping magnates are from around here... you know, are Greek." We then had to explain to him that most Greeks come from Greece, not Turkey...


Intercontinental Bridge... Apparently it takes more than a few continents to get away from idiots...


Inside the Blue Mosque. Yeah, it's pretty. Ok...


Carpets-R-Us, your rug weaving Super Center of Greater Istanbul


Who thought this scary mannequin was a good idea?? It's like Turkish twilight Zone...

Mediterranean 2009: Sunday 2 August

Docked at Kuşadası this am, and departed for the Ancient Ephesus Tour at 9:15 (pronounced "Asian Ephesus" by the tour announcer, causing not a little confusion....) Drove out to the city of Ephesus with lovely views of the countryside and coastline on the way. The ruins themselves were interesting, with marble paved streets and beautiful columns (have re-learned the difference in doric, ionic, and corinthian) but the highlights were definitely the library and the amphitheater.

The facade of the library was nothing less than stunning (which is interesting after we had such a long discussion yesterday regarding our jaded attitude toward antiquities.) Three levels of arches and columns, all ornately carved, with marble steps leading up to the front. Must have been a breathtaking sight at its prime.

The amphitheater seemed absolutely unreal.. something out of an old Hollywood epic like Clash of the Titans (which I do not freely admit to liking in my untutored youth, but I will say that I am aware of the film... and the sets... and all of the lines and characters...) Anyhow, massive stone seats rise in tiers, forming a huge semi-circle around a stage floor... They apparently still hold concerts there, and though it would be agonizingly uncomfortable, it would be an incredibly impressive sight. Rather like the Ryman of Turkey, I would think... At least, the comfort level of the seats would be about the same....

Saw, and walked on, the road that Cleopatra and Marc Antony trod, and learned the history behind the tradition of the red carpet for ceremonial occasions: apparently the people of Ephesus, in an effort to prove their prosperity, poured wine on the marble streets as a welcoming gesture for the couple, thus turning the white marble to red. Unsure if this is true, but it makes a rather interesting tale.

Bought a few pieces of pottery (2 medallions and a small lion) from a man with a shop nearby; the owner claimed to be the artist, and showed us the ring which he presses to each piece before he fires them, but again, I take these things with a grain of salt. We were also once told that a certain scarf was hand woven by women in a nearby village, and the seller adamantly stuck to this story until we pointed out the "Made in Afghanistan" tag dangling from one corner. Caveat emptor, to be sure.

Ducked out of the carpet making seminar (you can only see these so many times) and did a bit of shopping on our own near the docks. Shopping in Kuşadası was still a bit stressful, but nothing like the craziness of Istanbul. Found a nice little store called Meersham King with a salesman named Mustafa, where we bought some gifts to bring home and a really lovely little brass vase engraved with birds and very fine detailing. Fell in love with a bowl that had beautiful scrollwork and engraved Arabic text, but at €320, it had to stay where it was.

Chris bought his mother a scarf, and himself a leather bound journal (although apparently, keeping a journal isn't something he is prepared to undertake, dammit) but I was impressed that 1.) it wasn't a computer game, and 2.) he didn't wait until the last day to try to find his mother a gift. So there is that, at least.

Stopped by Dan and Ton's cabin to show them the new vase and hear about their day, as they took a motor tour of the city (since Ton can't easily walk.) Apparently, they were kept from seeing the home of the Virgin Mary by the histrionics of a 14 year old who claimed she was too ill to continue. Ton believes she was simply bored, but anyhow, they were required to wait until she and her family could be taken back to the ship, which took some considerable time. In any case, they still probably saw more of the city than we did, so it will be interesting to trade photos...

Dan and Ton also hadn't had much of a chance to do any shopping, so after dinner, we all trooped back to Mustafa's store to place a bit more custom in their way. Ton came out with some really beautiful items, including a brass urn and a camel bone box with an incredibly delicate painted hunting scene (I had actually noticed the same box earlier, and had, in fact, brought it to her attention, much to Dan's dismay.) I once again pined over my Arabic bowl, and both Mustafa and his uncle tried very hard to send it home with me (knocking the price down to €200) but we just couldn't see our way to closing the deal. Well, let me amend that, JAMES just couldn't see his way to closing the deal, all the while toting around the Meersham pipe that Mustafa had succeeded in placing in his grubby little fist.

So, I sadly departed sans bowl, and we made it all the way back through security and to the ship before reason (or my constant barrage of psychological warfare) prevailed. James and I turned around and made a mad dash back through the now familiar streets, I, all the while fearing that someone else may have already claimed my beloved vessel in the intervening half hour.

As we approached, Mustafa, who was sitting outside the shop (as is the custom in these markets), jumped up and exclaimed:

"Lisa! We didn't think you were coming back! Do you want to look at it again, or do you just want me to bring it down?"

James told him that I had looked enough, and to just bring it down and wrap the damn thing up. So Mustafa's uncle trotted upstairs to grab the bowl, and the remaining three of us went inside to complete the transaction. They were both (Mustafa and his Uncle) very sweet and funny, and yes, I realize that they are salesmen, but don't bring me down dammit. I love that bowl.

Anyhow, it is now 11:00 pm, and it has been a long and exciting day, but by God I can sleep well knowing that my bowl is in my cabin safely tucked under my bed, and not still sitting on an upstairs shelf of that shop waiting to go home with Lord-knows-who. As Mustafa quite rightly said while wrapping up my purchase: "She is happy girl." (Of course, he amended that by pointing to James afterwards and saying "... and he is sad boy.") But even though it was a fairish amount of money, I am pretty sure James knows what it meant to me. He wants a home full of stories about travel and people we have met, too... at least, that is MY story and I am sticking to it.

Library at Ephesus

Release the Kraken!

Shopping in Kusadasi...


The saddest moment since Jack went down with the Titanic...


Victory!!!