Cruise to the Holy Land, Nov 2010---part 2

Wednesday, November 17---Sea of Galilee and Nazareth, Israel  

            Today is the first of our "Big 4" days---two days in Israel, two in Egypt. Everybody has heard of Israel, of course, and many on board have been here before. Like most, though, we have not, and we're excited as we come ashore in the northern port of Haifa and board our tour bus. Our guide is a personable lady named Edna. We set out to the east over modern highways with signage in Hebrew, Arabic and English.

           The first thing that strikes us about Israel is that it is not the relatively flat, dusty desert we remember from the movies. Perhaps in the southern third of the country, the Negev Desert, but not here. Galilee is lush with fertile fields and forested hills. Edna tells us that the Ottoman Turks, who ruled here until being ousted by the British during World War I, denuded the hills of trees. The Israelis are an industrious people, and they've planted over 3 million trees since achieving independence in 1948.

            It doesn't take us long to get to our first destination, the Sea of Galilee, known to the locals as Lake Tiberias. It is smaller than we had thought, but we'll find that a common perception here in Israel: Everything is smaller or closer than we had imagined. Instead of being a vast inland sea like Lake Superior, the Sea of Galilee is small enough for us to easily see the famed Golan Heights on the eastern shore.
 



          
              The Golan was originally part of Syria, and Edna tells us that from independence in 1948 until the Six-Day War of 1967, Israelis living on the western shores were routinely shelled by Syrian artillery. Israel captured the Golan in the '67 war and although Syria demands its return as a condition of any peace treaty, we don't have to be told that Israel will never give it up.

               Our first stop is the Mount of Beatitudes. Not really a mountain, the hill is known as Mount Eremos and is traditionally regarded as the site of Jesus' Sermon on the Mount. Edna explains that many Christian sites in Israel have not yet been confirmed by archaeology, but instead rely on the work originally done by Helena of Constantinople, mother of Emperor Constantine I. Helena journeyed to this land around 325 AD and relied on oral histories told by the residents to mark the sites of important events in the life of Christ. She built churches on the sites and over the centuries, the churches were destroyed by earthquakes or invaders. New churches were built on top of the ruins, and today's buildings are often atop two or three older foundations. The one on top of the Mount, the Church of the Beatitudes, was built by the Franciscan Catholics in the 1930s.
 

           
           We walk around the balcony and gaze down upon the southeastern slope of the Mount, toward the lake. The hill is a natural amphitheater, and acoustic tests have shown that someone speaking from the top can be heard at the bottom.

           Edna asks for a volunteer to read from Scripture, and I step forward. I've read Bible lessons many times in church back home, but this is something much different. It doesn't really hit me until I actually begin to read from the 5th chapter of the Gospel of Matthew:

                                           Blessed are the poor in spirit,

                                             for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

                                           Blessed are they who mourn,

                                             for they shall be comforted....

              It is an emotional moment, but I get through the text and the group moves on. I have to stay behind for a few minutes to compose myself, and fortunately my mother is there to give me a hug. The feelings are really indescribable, and no matter what else happens on this trip, this moment will live with me the rest of my days.

               At the foot of the Mount is another location we visit, Tabgha. This is the site of Jesus' miracle of feeding the multitudes, as described in the Gospel of Mark. It was an event at a different date than the Sermon on the Mount; Jesus was mourning the death of his cousin, John the Baptist, but so many people were following him around the area that when he and the disciples stopped here to have their supper, about 5,000 people were in the crowd. With only five barley loaves and two fish, Jesus fed the crowds.

             The original shrine on this spot was built in Helena's time, and now the Church of the Multitudes is on the site, maintained by the Benedictines and owned by Germany. In the courtyard, Dad reads the gospel account of the miracle, and inside we see the altar, and underneath it is the rock which tradition says was the spot where the disciples placed the loaves and fishes before Jesus.  
 

         
           A few minutes away is Capernaum, the home village of the fishermen brothers Peter and Andrew, along with brothers James and John, who were recruited by Jesus into the ranks of the disciples. Capernaum was a village of about 1500 in Jesus' time, and has not been inhabited for a thousand years. Jesus stayed here after leaving Nazareth to begin his ministry, taught at the synagogue, and performed many miracles, including the healing of the paralytic who was lowered through the thatch roof of the house where Jesus was dining.

A statue of Peter greets visitors to Capernaum.

Sue and I in the ruins of the synagogue, itself built on the ruins of the one in which Jesus taught early in his ministry.

            It's lunchtime, and we go to a nearby kibbutz. I'd been under the impression that a kibbutz was just a collective farm, but Edna explains that many kibbutzim are much more extensive than that and agriculture is only one of many enterprises they're involved in. This kibbutz has a hotel and a dining hall, and we have an excellent buffet lunch, followed by a quick visit to the gift shop. Then it's back on the bus to our next destination, the River Jordan site where Jesus was baptized by his cousin, John the Baptist.

               The Jordan has its headwaters near Mount Hebron in extreme northern Israel, and flows southward about 150 miles through the Sea of Galilee to the Dead Sea. For centuries it has served not only as an important source of fresh water but as a political boundary. What surprises us is its width; we are used to big rivers like the Mississippi and the St. Croix, but this is more like the little Red Cedar River that flows near our home back in Wisconsin. In ancient times, the Jordan was almost certainly bigger than it is now; research has demonstrated that it once had a flow rate of 1.3 billion cubic meters per year, but now it is down to about 30 million, and in fact is ecologically endangered. In a land with little fresh water or rain, the Israelis, ever industrious, have large desalinization plants which produce 500 million cubic meters of water per year.

             The spot renowned as the site of Jesus' baptism is, unfortunately, pretty commercialized, and today it is crowded with pilgrims, many of whom appear to be from Latin America. There is also a group from Eastern Europe, here with their pastor for a group baptism by immersion. You can buy a knee-length white shirt (bearing a logo) to wear if you want to go in. We pass on that, but there are places where you can step into the water. Local wildlife is also in evidence; we are surprised by the presence of schools of large catfish and even muskrats, all of them looking for a handout.
 

         
            Since leaving Venice, I've been looking for a more appropriate hat to wear in this warm weather than the brown felt I brought along. In the gift shop I see some safari-style hats, which would do, but these bear the logo of the Israeli Defense Forces and probably would not be a good choice to wear when we get to Egypt, so I pass. Mom gets a rosary for her daughter-in-law Irene back in Arizona.            

            Our final stop on this day is the city of Nazareth, so we head east back up into the hills, about 25km from the Sea of Galilee. Again, Hollywood has failed us; instead of a dusty little village in the desert, Nazareth was built on the hills. Today it is a city of 65,000 and has the largest Arab population of any city in Israel. As we journey through the narrow streets and marvel at our driver's ability to avoid accidents, we get deeper into the Arab heart of the city and the atmosphere is decidedly different here. There is grafitti and trash, so different than what we saw earlier in Haifa and along our route. We disembark the bus and don't have to be told to stick together. 

            We are here to see the sites of Jesus' boyhood home, and tradition says the home of Joseph the carpenter was, in effect, a cave dug out of the hillside. Atop that hill today is the largest church in the Middle East, the Church of the Annunciation, on the site of the home of Mary, mother of Jesus, and next to it is the Church of St. Joseph's Carpentry, on the site where Jesus grew up. We go inside the beautiful Church of the Annunciation, and see the entrance to the Grotto.
 

A church service had just concluded inside the church marking Mary's home.

Outside the church, a stark reminder that we are in Muslim territory.



              There are street vendors aplenty, something we will find to be commonplace over here, and I can't help noticing that one table, run by some Arab teens, offers toy AK-47 submachine guns among its trinkets.
 

           
              We have had a good day, but we are anxious to get back on the bus and head back to Haifa and the ship.

              For me and Sue, this is an important date: our wedding anniversary. That evening we dine with the folks in the ship's Sabatini Restaurant, enjoying a sumptuous Italian feast (served by Peruvian and Romanian waiters). All things considered, this will be one of our most memorable anniversaries.
 

Thursday, November 18---Jerusalem and Bethlehem  

            Overnight we have sailed down the Mediterranean coast of Israel to the port of Ashdod. This was one of the main cities of ancient Philistia, a maritime power that was the main Old Testament adversary of Israel. We pick up our new guide, a New York-raised Israeli named Hughie, and head east. Just outside of the city we pass through the Valley of Elah, where the Philistines sent their best warrior, Goliath, up against a young Israelite shepherd boy named David.

            This section of central Israel is, if anything, even hillier than Galilee. Hughie explains that the highway we are now on was the most important roadway in Israeli history. During the 1948 War of Independence, this was the Israelis' main supply route from the coast to Jerusalem, as depicted in the 1966 movie Cast a Giant Shadow, starring Kirk Douglas as a US Army colonel who is recruited by Israel to lead its armed forces in the war. At some places along the way we see the preserved wrecks of Israeli convoy vehicles that were ambushed by Arabs from the hills. With the steep hillsides rising above us very close to the road, it's easy to imagine the harrowing gauntlet the Israeli supply troops had to run.

            We arrive in Jerusalem's outskirts in about a half-hour and our first stop is on the Mount of Olives. It was on this hilltop that Jesus ascended to heaven. To the east is the dry "Wilderness" stretching to the Jordanian border. To the west, the Old City of Jerusalem.
 

Dad gazes upon Jerusalem. In the center is the golden Dome of the Rock, revered by Muslims as the site from which Muhammad ascended to heaven.

            From the Mount of Olives we descend into the narrow valley between the Mount and the city, to the Garden of Gethsemane. It was here, amongst the olive trees, where Jesus went to pray on the night of his arrest. Hughie tells us that the trees remaining in this garden have been tested and many are more than 1600 years old, so it is entirely possible that they were here, at least as saplings, to witness the events that evening. Hughie asks for a volunteer to read the gospel account of the night, and I offer my services again.
 

           Next to this grove of trees is the Church of All Nations, and we go inside to see a section of bedrock which, by tradition, is the place where Jesus knelt to pray after leaving his sleeping disciples at the outskirts of the garden.

Sue touches the rock where Jesus prayed.

            We head into the city. The current walls of the Old City were actually built in the 16th century by the Ottoman Muslim emperor, Suleiman the Magnificent, and are outside the location of the city walls from biblical times. Within the walls, the Old City is roughly divided into four quarters. We will enter the Jewish Quarter through the Zion Gate.
 

Outside the Zion Gate, rising from the Muslim Quarter is the al-Aqsa Mosque, at the southern edge of the Temple Mount.

            Hughie tells us that we are liable to encounter some bar mitzvahs today, as they are commonly held here on Thursdays, and indeed we see one right away as we exit our bus. Passing through the gate we go through a security checkpoint, and then enter the plaza of the Western Wall, one of the most revered spots of Judaism. The wall is the only surviving wall from the Temple of Jerusalem, and Jewish pilgrims gather here to pray and insert handwritten notes into the wall. Visitors of other faiths are welcome here, but Hughie tells us that non-Muslims are not welcome in the Muslim sector of the temple area, just over the wall.

On the men's side of the Western Wall; women go to the right.

Jewish pilgrims praying at the 2000-year-old Wall.

            Jerusalem was partitioned between Israel and Jordan from 1948-67, but in the Six-Day War, Israeli troops pushed the Jordanians out of the city and well to the east, across the Jordan River. This area where we now stand was the site of vicious hand-to-hand combat innumerable times in history, most recently in 1967. Today, it is peaceful. There are some policemen in evidence, a few carrying automatic weapons, and a number of Israeli soldiers, and many of those (including women) are also well-armed. Hughie says the troops are actually here on leave; IDF troops routinely carry their weapons even when they're not on duty. Considering the history of this region, that's probably a smart move.

            We move further into the city to the Via Dolorosa, where we will see most of the Stations of the Cross, walking the path Jesus walked on the way to his execution. The street is narrow, crowded and winding, with shops and vendor tables almost everywhere. The stations are marked, and Hughie points them out. Thankfully, he is connected to us by radio and we can easily hear him through our earpieces. 
 

Along the Via Dolorosa---crowded, cramped, exotic.

Station V, where Jesus stumbled and his cross was given temporarily to Simon of Cyrene. The spot in the pavement where Jesus placed his hand to avoid falling was later moved to the wall of the chapel.

Modern commercialism mixes with ancient religion on the Via Dolorosa.

             The final stations are at our last destination in Jerusalem, the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. In Jesus' time, this was outside the city walls and was a hill we know as Calvary. The church was built on an elevated site so that the actual top of Calvary is within the second story of the church.
 

           
            The original Byzantine church on this site was destroyed by a Muslim caliph in 1009, an event that enraged many Europeans and was one of the key events that sparked the Crusades. The church was rebuilt by succeeding caliphs with financial help from the Byzantines, and later expanded by the Crusaders. A millenia later, the church is visited by pilgrims from the world over. We enter and ascend a winding staircase to the second story, passing a niche that marks the spot where Jesus' robe was the prize in a gambling contest between Roman soldiers.
             An ornate altar marks the peak of Calvary and the spot where Jesus' cross stood. A long line of pilgrims waits their turn to touch the spot, and we pass by them as we don't have the time to wait in line.

The Altar of the Crucifixion, with part of the rock under glass at left, and an open section to the right, where Jesus' cross was placed.

The edicule containing the tomb of Jesus.

Near the edicule, the Stone of Anointing, where Jesus' body was prepared for burial.

          Hughie leads us out of the church and we exit the Old City through the Jaffa Gate. It has been quite an experience, but there is more to come. We go to another kibbutz for lunch, and then a few miles down the road is Bethlehem.

            The city of Jesus' birth is now in territory controlled by the Palestinian Authority, and there is a checkpoint we have to pass through that lets us through a gate in the infamous security wall. A few years ago the Israelis, plagued by suicide bombers coming from Bethlehem and other West Bank towns, decided to enclose the entire region with a Berlin Wall-like barrier. Extending about 700km, the barrier was declared illegal by the International Court of Justice; those jurists, of course, lived far away from Israel. The Israeli Supreme Court, whose justices all live here, disagreed, ordering only some small adjustments in the location, and so the wall was built. The politics of the wall continue to be debated in ivory towers far from here, but what is undeniable is that the wall has done the job, as suicide attacks from the West Bank have virtually ended since the barrier was completed.

            Hughie has to get off the bus before the checkpoint, as Israeli guides are not allowed in the city. Once we clear the checkpoint we are joined by our Palestinian guide, a Christian. He leads our bus through the narrow streets and once again, the atmosphere is notably different. We see a mural on a wall showing a dove holding the olive branch of peace; superimposed over the dove's breast is a gunsight. I was not able to get a photo of the mural, but later I looked it up and found out it is by a British artist who calls himself "Blanksy", and who specializes in satirical graffiti. Here's a link to a photo of the mural:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/22846385@N03/4527963129
 

The checkpoint entering Palestinian territory is a heavily-guarded, no-nonsense place.

            Our destination is the Church of the Nativity, over the grotto that marks the location of the stable where Jesus was born. It is a crowded place today, with a long line to see the grotto itself. Our guide explains that we simply don't have time to wait the 3 hours or so in line, especially since the church will be closing in an hour or so and all these pilgrims, most of whom seem to be Russians and Eastern Europeans, will have to leave without being able to see the grotto.
 

           
            We leave the church and walk a few blocks to our bus, which is in a parking garage. During the walk the guide does not have to remind us to stick together. There are Palestinian cops in reasonable numbers, but I notice that none of them are armed.

            At the parking garage, I notice a group of Palestinian school children waiting for their bus. They seem to be around kindergarten age, and half of them are playing with toy AK-47s. We board the bus and snake through the streets to a nearby souvenir shop, operated by a Christian family, where we do some shopping. It's a nice place and the people are friendly, but we are getting anxious to leave---frankly, to get back to Israel on the other side of the barrier. Outside the shop we are accosted by Palestinian kids hawking trinkets and they won't take "la shakram" for an answer. We manage to get on the bus safely and begin the trek back to Israel. At the barrier, two Israeli security guards, in civilian clothes and wielding heavy automatic weapons, go through the bus quickly. Earlier, someone had asked Hughie about the methods used by Israeli security to spot suspicious persons. "We profile," he said, drawing gasps from some. But that was before we crossed into the Palestinian sector, and perceptions have changed. We say goodbye to our Palestinian guide and welcome Hughie back aboard. By now it's getting dark and there's a palpable sense of relief on the bus now that we are back in Israel.

            The trip back to Ashdod is without incident, and as we enter the port area we contemplate our two days in Israel. A beautiful country, to be sure, with friendly, hard-working people. Visiting the religious and historical sites was certainly a memorable experience. Our visits to Palestinian areas were also memorable, and as we board the ship we wonder how much of our unease in those areas was due to a subconscious feeling of hostility from the people, or was it more from our own media-induced paranoia?

             We are glad to be back aboard, and over dinner the talk is of Israel, Palestine, and our next day's desitination: Egypt.

Cruise to the Holy Land, Nov 2010---part 1

Tuesday-Wednesday, November 9-10---Minneapolis to Venice

         After months of planning and dreaming of the places we’ll see, our Holy Land cruise is underway. The best part of a trip to Europe is being there. The worst part is getting there. The excited anticipation of the days leading up to the trip, with the packing and planning and dreaming of adventures to come, gives way to the boring fatigue of international travel.

Sophie, our Yorkie, wanted to go with us.

          Leaving the house at 1pm on Tuesday, we drive to Minneapolis and arrive at the airport by 4. After checking in and passing through security---take off the shoes, put everything in plastic bins, take the laptop out of the case, walk in stockinged feet through the scanner, then collect everything and sally forth into the terminal---we find the gate where my parents, Jim and Sandra Tindell, are arriving from Phoenix at 6. Our flight to Amsterdam leaves from a gate in the same terminal.
          The Delta Airlines flight leaves on time at 7:30 and as soon as we achieve cruising altitude, we discover that the jet’s movie screens won’t work. The crew tries to reboot the computer but ultimately only a few of the screens have movie service. My folks are sitting at the front row facing the bulkhead, giving them slightly more leg room, and I join them in an empty seat next to Mom. Sue stays in our two seats several rows back. Dinner is served, and airline food hasn’t improved very much over the years, yet I clean everything off my plate as it will be a long flight and a long day tomorrow. In fact, I’ve already set my watch to Central European Time, 7 hours ahead of Central Standard. Suddenly it becomes 3am Wednesday.
          I dine next to Sue and then go forward to use the roomier seat next to the folks to try and sleep. Even though I’ve taken a sleep aid, I have trouble nodding off. The constant blue glow of the TV monitor on the bulkhead keeps me awake and for a time I monitor our progress. The map shows the flight path of the jet eastward over Canada, and the statistics flash in English, then German, then French. Time to destination, time at destination, and so forth. This too isn’t working quite right; it shows we’ve traveled about 6000 miles from Minneapolis, which if true would put us somewhere over Russia by now, a serious miscalculation by the pilots. I can imagine them in the cabin: “Hey, skipper, is that Moscow below? I knew we should‘ve turned right at Norway."

          I spend some time reading from my Kindle, going from book to book and finally settling on the historical novel Annapolis, by William Martin. It starts slowly but picks up steam as it follows two rival naval families from Maryland, the Staffords and the Parrishes, from the Revolution to present day. It’s a bodice-ripper in the spirit of The Ken Family Chronicles by John Jakes, which I read back in college. During a trip back to the loo I pass Sue, who is folded up on both our seats, covered by a blanket, fast asleep.
          After playing some video games on the terminal attached to the seat, I finally am able to stretch my legs by extending them forward and upward with my feet on the bulkhead. Not very elegant but it works, and I doze off with a couple hours to go before we arrive in European airspace. When I awaken we are approaching Ireland and the cabin is coming alive as the stewards begin to serve a light breakfast. About 90 minutes later we are on the ground in Amsterdam.

                          We've made it to Europe, and now we wait in Amsterdam.

          Schiphol Airport is modern and the signage and announcements are in English as well as the guttural Dutch. It’s changed a bit from our last visit in 2007; we pass by the newsstands and I see they no longer have racks full of porn magazines. Perhaps the famous Dutch “tolerance” is tightening up. We make our way to the gate for our flight to Venice, and it is of course at the very end of the airport from where we had disembarked our Minneapolis flight. We can’t find any lounge chairs to stretch out on so we must endure our 4hr layover in standard airport chairs. Finally, it’s time to board our plane to Venice. This one requires boarding from the tarmac, but eventually we’re in the air and heading to Italy.
          It’s dark and raining when we touch down at Marco Polo Airport in Venice around 5pm. Our driver is waiting for us and has umbrellas as we board the van with our bags and are driven to the quay, where we are hustled aboard a water taxi. Venice is a city made up of over 100 islands, and our destination is the main island, where no motor vehicles are allowed. Transport is either on foot or by boat through the miles of canals that snake through the city, many not much wider than our boat. But our driver skillfully navigates us right to the canal-side entrance to the Duodo Palace, our four-star hotel.
         We freshen up in our rooms and then, weary as we are, we still need some sustenance, so we walk through Venice’s winding streets to a ristorante recommended by the concierge, and have a simple but filling meal. Dad and I have lasagna, while the ladies have a bean soup. It’s a fitting end to a long day, but we are in Italy at last and the great adventure gets rolling tomorrow.

Thursday, November 11---Venice, Italy

After about 10hr of much-needed sleep, we are awakened by the bells of Venice and the delicious aroma of fresh-baked bread. My first daytime glance out our hotel window on the fourth floor reveals the typical crowded rooftops of Europe. At least it’s not raining.

                                          Venice, from our hotel window.

          It is Veterans Day back home, and I give my dad a card, thanking him for his service. Dad was with the Army back in the mid-1950s, serving in Germany, where I was born. Just a few years before that, many other American soldiers had given their lives to liberate the country we were now in. Our thoughts are also with our nephew, Zach Tindell, serving with the Navy in Kuwait.
          I’m a history buff, and Venice is one of the most historic and important cities of Europe. Its strategic location at the head of the Adriatic Sea made Venice an important seaport and the nexus of European seaborne and overland trade routes. Venetian ships carried much of the commercial and military traffic of the Great Crusades. By the time of Columbus, Venice controlled not only surrounding land in Italy but much of southern Greece, including the islands of Crete and Cyprus. The Venetian Republic lasted until 1797, when it was abolished by Napoleon.
          Mid-November is not the high season for visits to Europe and there’s a good reason: the weather. Our previous visit to Italy was in September of ‘07, and we had uniformly excellent weather all the time; now it will be iffy at best. But the rain has stopped, so we are looking forward to seeing the city. We meet other American travelers, including one man who said he and his wife had been dropped off by their water taxi the night before, like us, but they had not been taken directly to the Duodo Palace, but to Piazza San Marco, the famous St. Mark’s Square. From there they had to walk in the rain, with their luggage, the half-mile or so to the hotel, through the dark and winding (and not-very-well-marked) streets. He was not a happy camper. He asks how we had arranged our trip, and my dad says we had engaged the services of a top-flight travel agent who took care of everything. Of course that agent is his daughter-in-law, which helped facilitate matters somewhat, but we think the fellow gets the point.
          This would be the first time, but undoubtedly not the last, when we had encountered travelers who had decided to save a few bucks by taking care of the details themselves. It continues to amaze me that people, usually men, who typically can’t be bothered to change the oil in their own cars, will feel perfectly comfortable going online and booking an expensive overseas vacation themselves with some unseen internet provider. Then when things go wrong---and no trip ever goes completely smoothly---they will wonder how this happened.
          After breakfast we’re off to explore the city. Venice is almost impossible to navigate by map, so you must rely on the two main landmarks: Piazza San Marco and Ponte Rialto, the bridge across the Grand Canal. There are street signs pointing in their direction, so that helps you keep your bearings. To our dismay, the great piazza, which Napoleon called “the drawing room of Europe," is partially flooded. Elevated walkways have been erected so people can get around, but many Venetians, and some tourists, are shod in knee-high rubber boots and they slosh through the water, which is rising inch by inch and in some places is more than ankle deep. It is also somewhat fragrant, and not in a pleasant way.

                                          Piazza San Marco, on a wet day.

                                     Mom and Sue plan their shopping strategy.

          Braving the foot bridges, we tour the basilica, where no photography is allowed, although many people ignore the signs and flash away. This is called the “golden church” due to its rich decorations, and it is renowned for its amazing acoustics. We decide not to tour the Doge’s Palace next door, and instead head to Ponte Rialto, after finding out that a water taxi ride to the island of Burano, the home of famous lace, is a 2hr round trip. We want to leave for the ship by mid-afternoon, so we pass on Burano, but it’s worth a stop if you are in Venice with more time to spend. Also, the island of Murano, the home of Venice’s famed glassworks, should be on a first-time visitor’s itinerary.

          Walking through the twisting little streets of Venice is an experience. The city has some 150 canals and 400 bridges. Everything is done on foot or by watercraft, which helps explain why Venice is not cheap; everything from soup to nuts has to be hand-carted around the island. Venice has been featured in numerous movies; a recent one that comes to mind is Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. A new one, The Tourist with Johnny Depp and Angelina Jolie, is to be released next month. In fact, there is an American TV show filming a scene near the basilica while we were there. The host is filming what was apparently the final scene of some sort of documentary, and he must’ve done several dozen takes because when we leave he is doing the same line of dialogue as he had been reciting when we arrived an hour or so earlier.

                     Venice's gondoliers are adept at navigating the narrow canals.

                               Dad takes a break on one of the many bridges.

                        Sue and Mom, at left, emerge from a shop with Murano glass.

                        The Grand Canal of Venice, viewed from Ponte Rialto.

                                          Sue and me on the Ponte Rialto.

          It is a few minutes’ walk back to the hotel to pick up our luggage and board our water taxi for the trip to the pier, where our ship is docked. Two of our fellow passengers are also on their way to the ship, a couple from Seattle, but they are hoofing it, carrying all their belongings in two large backpacks. A water taxi ride costs about 10-15 euros per person, but it is well worth it, especially if you have luggage.
          Embarkation for our ship, the Pacific Princess, goes smoothly because we are so early; the ship won’t sail till 9pm and many passengers won’t even be arriving until this afternoon. That’s something we try to avoid, which is why we timed our arrival for the day before the sailing. Not only does it mitigate against the possibility of missed flights or delays, it means we have a night to overcome the jet lag and enjoy our first city.
          This is my first time on a Princess cruise, although Sue has sailed with them before and in fact is a Princess “Commodore," meaning she has taken the requisite training courses to enhance her own cruising experiences. Our ship is on the small side, meaning it has only about 700 passengers, compared to some of the new leviathans the cruise lines are now using which have eight times that number. As a result its smaller size, the Pacific Princess’s amenities are fewer---no ice-skating rinks or rock-climbing walls, for example---but it is richly appointed and the service, we quickly discover, is first-rate.
          Our required lifeboat drill is at 5pm and we take our first dinner in the Panorama buffet lounge. Finally, at 9 the whistles blow and we slip away from the pier and set sail into the Adriatic Sea. Our first leg is a relatively short run down the Italian coast, to the city of Ravenna.

Friday, November 12---Ravenna/San Marino

 The Italian city of Ravenna is historic, as are almost all cities in Europe, but this one played a key role in the story of the Roman Empire. In 402 AD, the emperor Honorius moved the capital of the decaying Western Empire from Rome to Ravenna, so he could be closer to the frontiers where the various Gothic tribes were pressuring the empire. Honorius' strategy worked for awhile, until Ravenna itself fell to the invading Ostrogoths late in the fifth century. Half a century later they were pushed out by the troops of the Eastern Roman Empire under Justinian. He rebuilt the city and as a result, today Ravenna boasts some of the world’s finest surviving Byzantine mosaics. In addition, the great poet Dante is entombed here, where he died in 1321 after his exile from his native Florence.
          The ship is offering several different excursions to show passengers the sights of Ravenna and neighboring Bologna, but we have something more adventurous in mind. We are renting a car and heading on our own down the coast and then inland to the Most Serene Republic of San Marino, one of Europe’s “microstates." The ship provides a shuttle bus that takes us the 9 miles from the pier to downtown Ravenna, and we take a taxi to the rental car agency. Soon I am at the wheel of a Volvo with a surprisingly quiet diesel engine and a 6-speed manual transmission, and we’re on our way.
          Italian roads are much like our own, only without much in the way of shoulders and of course the signage is different, although easy to pick up. Everything is in the metric system, so when the speed limit sign reads 110 (which few Italians seem to care about), we are really going about 65mph. I’d read up on tips for driving in Italy, always helpful to do if you plan to drive overseas, and we have little trouble with navigating our way down the coast to Rimini and then inland another 20km or so to San Marino.
          This tiny (36 square miles) country is on the side of a mountain, Monte Titano, and is the world’s oldest republic, with its history going back all the way to its founding in 301 AD. It has operated continuously under the same constitution since 1600, longer than any other country in the world. They must be doing something right; San Marino has the lowest unemployment rate in Europe, no debt and a budget surplus. Not to mention spectacular scenery of the Apennines. To get to the old walled city at the top of the mountain requires a rather harrowing drive up the switch-backed, two-lane road, but finally we are there, and the scenery is worth the drive.

          The old walled city has its own switch-backed streets, as you would imagine for a place built on a steep mountainside, as well as numerous little shops and museums.

                One shop I visited had this fellow: Apollo, an Italian Corso, a mastiff breed       that goes back to Roman times. I doubt if this place has a problem with shoplifters.

Mom took this shot of me on the ramparts of the city.

          We leave San Marino after a few hours and head back to Ravenna. Like with American car rentals, you must replenish the fuel before turning in the car, so we stop at a self-serve station outside Ravenna. It takes a little bit of doing, along with an assist from a helpful truck driver hauling in some fresh oranges and tangerines from Naples, to negotiate the automatic teller machine, which takes only euros or local bank cards. Fuel is not cheap over here; gasoline is about 1.40 euros per liter, which is about $7/gal. Diesel is cheaper than gas here, and there are many more diesel cars on the road than you see back home. We see very few American-made cars, and no pickup trucks or SUVs at all. The current rate of exchange, by the way, does not favor the US dollar; $1.30 or so US will get you one euro.
          We arrive at the car rental office close to 2pm, only to find out the office is closed for the typically long European lunch, from 12:30-2:30. Also, in Europe the time is always expressed in what we call military time: 2:30pm is 14:30 on their digital clocks. The temperature, of course, is expressed in Celsius, not Farenheit, so there’s a moment of confusion when you hear a weather forecast saying it will be 24 degrees and pleasant. (That would be 75 degrees back in Wisconsin, very nice indeed for mid-November.)
          The ship sets sail around 6pm, just as we are sitting down for our first evening in the main dining room. We quickly discover that Princess’s service and food is as good as advertised, and we have a great meal followed by an entertaining song-and-dance revue in the theater that nicely caps our first full day on board. I retire with a feeling of satisfaction; one of my “bucket list” goals is to visit all of Europe’s microstates, and I’m halfway through: Vatican, Monaco and now San Marino. Still to go: Liechtenstein, on the border between Switzerland and Austria; Andorra, in the Pyrenees between Spain and France; and the Mediterranean island of Malta.

 I have three microstates to go, but they'll wait for future trips. 

Saturday, November 13---Dubrovnik, Croatia

One of the things that happens on a cruise is that you quickly lose your normal perspective of time and date. (And that's the general idea.) This is Saturday, but unlike every other autumn Saturday when I spend time in front of the TV watching the Badgers play football, we are spending this one in Croatia. I put aside any fears that the Badgers might struggle without me---they would beat Indiana by the whopping score of 83-20---and we come on deck this morning to spectacular weather and the beautiful Croatian coastline as we approach the city of Dubrovnik.

          This region of the Balkans is known as Dalmatia, and until a relatively few years ago it was almost unknown to American visitors. For nearly three-quarters of a century, this land was part of Yugoslavia, a federation of several regions that had been ruled by communist dictators since the end of World War II. The nation splintered following the fall of the Soviet Union, and Croatia gained its independence in the early 1990s following a brief but violent civil war. Dubrovnik itself was severely damaged during the war, as it was pounded by Serbian artillery from the nearby hills, but Croatians are nothing if not industrious and they wasted no time in rebuilding their country. It is aptly named “the Pearl of the Adriatic."

          Like Venice, Dubrovnik since ancient times has been an important center of maritime trade. By the 17^th century, ships from Ragusa, the original Latin name for the city, sailed as far away as America and India for trade, and the city was also renowned for its art and literature. Ragusa was demolished by an earthquake in 1667, a disaster that wiped out many of the ruling families of Latin descent. It was left to the Slavic natives to rebuild, and their name of Dubrovnik gradually replaced Ragusa. The Republic outlasted Venice by a few years until that killjoy Napoleon abolished it in 1808.
          Today, Dubrovnik is a thriving city built up on the Dalmatian hillsides surrounding the original walled city. Among its many charms is the oldest working pharmacy in Europe, dating back some 700 years. This country is also home to the necktie; Croatian cavalrymen, arriving in France during the Renaissance period, wore neck scarves that the French called the cravat. The style quickly caught on.
          Sue and I first visited Dubrovnik in 2007, when we took a bicycle tour to a nearby valley, so this time we are looking forward to climbing the walls of the Old City. The weather certainly couldn’t have been better, sunny and in the mid-60s. Our shuttle bus from the pier drops us off near the main entrance.

          Inside, we quickly discovered that the business-savvy Croatians, who have known how to make a buck for centuries, haven’t missed a trick; it costs us 10 euros each to climb onto the ramparts. We also discover that Dubrovnik merchants take cash of all kinds; the local currency is the Croatian kuna, worth about 15c in US currency, but they will gladly accept euros and dollars.
          We ascend the first long and steep staircase and it is worth the money.

        Dad zeroes in Croatian artillery on the Costa liner in the harbor. Larger ships anchor here and tender their passengers to shore.

          After transiting about ¾ of the ramparts, we exit and descend to the main streets of the city. There are lots of tourists about; many of them are Italians who are from the Costa liner in the harbor, others are Europeans from all over the continent. On the rampart I’d conversed with two ladies from Germany, one of whom expressed surprise to find an American who could speak German.
          The streets of the Old City have the usual allotment of restaurants, souvenir stores and so forth. Ice cream, the Italian-style gelato, is quite popular and we each have a cone ($2 US apiece). There is a street mime, and a gentleman dressed as a pirate who is allowing his many exotic birds to meet the people.

          After a short ride back to the ship, we spend the rest of the afternoon doing nothing in particular and then meet for dinner. This evening we are joined by two new tablemates: Sally, a former Los Angeles police officer who is now a travel agent, and her sister Susan, a postal worker from near Seattle. On these cruises, dinner seating is assigned somewhat at random, although you can request to be seated with traveling companions, as we had with our folks, and in the first few nights of the cruise people might move to different tables for various reasons. We find the ladies to be fine dinner companions, and of course Sue is delighted to have a colleague with which to talk shop. So far, after two days aboard, I have yet to find other martial artists, but hopefully one or two will show up.

It was a great day to visit "the Pearl of the Adriatic."

Sunday, November 14---at sea aboard the Pacific Princess
         
     It is a day at sea, the first of three we will have on this cruise. Sea days can be some of the most enjoyable experiences on a cruise; there’s always plenty to do, or you can do nothing more than curl up somewhere with a good book.

                                   Sue relaxes in the ship's sumptuous library.

            Being Sunday, the ship offered divine services in the Panorama Lounge, up on the tenth deck forward. (Shipboard lingo is always in nautical terms: forward, aft, port, starboard, etc.) One of the pianists from the bands led the service, and the singer from the song-and-dance troupe, a young gal from Australia with a terrific voice, led us in singing “Amazing Grace." The message is delivered by one of the guests, a Baptist minister from Kentucky who s aboard with his wife as guests of another couple, friends of theirs from Florida.
          Since this is a smaller ship, it doesn’t offer quite the list of activities that you can find on the big ones, but that’s part of the charm. And considering the clientele on this cruise, that appears to be just fine with almost everybody. A liner will have an activities staff that handles things like the planning and organizing, and crewmembers who will guide guests to the various places and sometimes lead the events themselves. There are games and classes, art auctions, dancing lessons, lectures on upcoming ports of call, and lots more. My favorite is the ping-pong tables. The ship will usually offer a ping-pong tournament on sea days and the competition can get somewhat fierce. Dad and I show up about 20 minutes in advance and start warming up, and a couple at the next table quickly depart. At the appointed start time, nobody else is there to compete. I’m a pretty fair ping-pong player but wasn’t about to go up against my father, who taught me the game and still rules the table.
        On other cruises they have more unusual competitions, such as the hairy-chest contest (for men). Fortunately, that was not offered by the Pacific Princess. One thing that is available, thankfully, is a fitness center, another cruise line standard. Sue and I have been making use of it daily, usually first thing in the morning. Next to the gym is a spa, where you can get anything from a shave and a haircut to a deep-tissue massage, sometimes using things like heated bamboo sticks and seaweed to enhance the effect. Their services can be pricey, but on our first day aboard I had a bamboo massage from a masseuse who happened to work as a sports physical therapist back home in Portugal and she did a marvelous job with my right foot, which had been painful from a martial arts-related injury for months.
          This was our first of two “formal nights," when you dress for dinner, and this being the first such night on this cruise, we went to a reception to meet the captain and his senior officers. Our skipper is Italian as are most of the officers, although there are also officers from Canada and Portugal. The crew is from many nationalities, but like on most ships we’ve sailed on, the show people tend to be Australians or Brits, and the waiters and stewards are Eastern Europeans or Southeast Asians. At our dinner table, our waiters are Thais, and our cabin steward a Filipino. As to the passengers, most of these are Americans, with a smattering of Britons and other nationalities; one couple we meet is from Bulgaria, now living in New York, and on the elevator I meet three from Russia.

Our cruise director and the skipper ham it up in the lounge on Formal Night.

          Formal nights also feature plenty of photography, and tonight there were three different stations set up, including the ship’s grand staircase. You’ll be photographed many times on a cruise but there’s no obligation to buy anything. Even so, very few cruisers go home without some formal photos in hand, and the ship can also provide customized albums and, in our case, Christmas cards.
          Shipboard entertainment is always an important part of any cruise, and some we’ve seen are pretty elaborate. On this cruise, the venue is rather small, as is the stage and dance floor, but the shows are still first-rate. The song-and-dance troupe consists of four men and four women, most Australian with a few Brits, all in their early to mid-20s and very talented. They did a song-and-dance revue on our second night aboard, and tonight perform a special “Shake, Rattle and Roll” show, covering hits from Bill Haley and the Comets to Motown to The Beatles. Of course there is an Elvis tribute, and since we’re seated in the front row, Mom gets chosen to dance a few steps with the lead singer in full Presley regalia.

After dancing with "Elvis", Mom had to take a moment to calm down.

          Ships will also bring outside talent aboard for shows. Last night we were treated to a great show by the English comic Rikki Jay, and tomorrow night is a Scots-Irish singer and flutist, Kaitlyn Carr. Outside acts usually remain aboard ship for a few days, coming aboard at one port and leaving at another, and sometimes during the day you can see them around the ship and have a chat.

The comic and the chanteuse, who are engaged, put on some great shows.

          Basically, there are four things you have to get on a cruise to have a great cruise: an interesting itinerary, great service and entertainment, and above all, first-rate food. The weather can’t be controlled, although the ships generally do their best to avoid bad weather at sea. (Tonight, though, we are in the Pacific Lounge on the tenth deck after the show and are treated to a spectacular electrical storm nearby.) Like every other cruise line, Princess spares little expense with their food: it’s great and there’s lots of it.
          You can take all your meals in the Panorama Lounge, buffet-style, but most have their evening dinner in the Club Restaurant, and there are two smaller, specialty restaurants on board, by reservation only. The real challenge is figuring out what you want from all the choices, and then disciplining yourself not to overeat. Fortunately, this ship does a fine job with portion control in the main dining room.

The Panorama buffet line, where diets meet their match.

          Watching what you drink is also a challenge for people, even those who don’t normally imbibe any more than an after-dinner drink or a glass of wine at the table. All your drinks go on a tab and at the end of the cruise, you get the tab delivered to your room and make arrangements to pay. We’ve seen some tabs that run to several pages. Drinks and gambling are where the cruise lines make their profit. Oh yes, there’s always a casino on board, open when the ship is not in port, and like virtually every other ship we’ve been on, this one offers slot machines, roulette, and blackjack. Larger ships will also have tables for dice and poker. Not being much of a gambler, I generally avoid the casino, although tonight Dad and I watch one fellow playing blackjack and he has about $500 in chips on the table in front of him when we head to dinner.
          There are plenty of shops on board as well, offering clothing, souvenirs, jewelry and watches. Like the bars, the shops take your ship ID card, which you’re issued when you board, and put the purchase on your tab. This is another area where you need to exercise a little self-discipline or things can quickly get out of hand.
          The decor on board our ship is somewhat old-school, with lots of wood and deep red colors and plush furnishings. This is in keeping with the clientele, which skews to the 50+ demographic. On "younger" ships, such as Carnival's, colors will be brighter and more garish, but you'll also have lots of crazed kids and bored-looking teenagers wandering around. For the itinerary we have on this voyage, the ambience is perfect.

          Our first sea day comes to a close sometime around 11pm, and since we turned our clocks ahead one hour the night before as we entered another time zone, the first round of Sunday NFL games is just about wrapping up back home. Larger ships will have sports bars that air NFL games, but there are none here; the ship’s TV system carries ESPN, MSNBC and Fox News, as well as some other specialty channels, plus the BBC, but no games are being piped in tonight. Well, we can check the scores in the morning on our laptop, which is logged in with the ship’s WiFi network---for a price, of course.




Monday, November 15---Patmos, Greece

We are in the Aegean Sea, and our port of call today is the Greek island of Patmos. Sue has visited a few of the Greek isles on previous cruises but this one is new to her, as it is to the rest of us. It is special because it was to this island that the Apostle John was exiled by the Romans, late in the first century AD. Still of sound mind in his 90s, John spent nearly two years here, and this is where he received the Revelation from God and dictated the final book of the Bible to his scribe.

          The weather is once again spectacular as we approach Patmos. Sue and I join Mom and Dad on the observation deck to take in the magnificent scenery. Patmos is a small island (13 sq miles) and we will anchor in the harbor of the main town, Skala, and use tenders to get ashore. Many guests have signed up for guided tours, and ours leaves at 12:40pm. This gives me enough time to enter the morning ping-pong tournament, where I sweep my new-found Bulgarian friend in straight sets for the championship.

          Every cruise offers shore excursions and while they are not inexpensive, they are the best way to see the sights, especially if you aren’t familiar with the territory and don’t know the language. Booking through the ship, which can be done well in advance, is the preferred way to tour your destination. Our tour departs by bus from Skala and our first stop, a few miles away on a hillside offering stunning panoramic views of Skala and the harbor below, is the small Monastery of the Apocalypse.

          Three tiny churches are inside here alongside St. Anne’s Cave, where John slept and wrote. The hole in the wall where he rested his head is protected by a small fence, but we can reach over the fence and touch it, along with the smaller hole which he used to support himself as he knelt in prayer. Above us in the low ceiling is the crack through which the voice of God came through to John, ordering him to compose his last book. It is a humbling, awesome experience to be there.

The entrance to the cave, where no photos are allowed.

          From this monastery, our tour goes up to a scenic overlook near the village of Choros, and we have more breathtaking scenery to digest before moving on to another small village, where we stop for refreshment at a small café. Sue and I order hot chocolate and the folks have strong Greek coffee. One of our tablemates has a small glass of ouzo, the strong Greek liqueur, but I will wait on that till we get to Athens next week.

From the heights of Patmos, we can see our ship at anchor in Skala harbor.

          The tour ends in Skala, where we do some shopping before boarding the tender for the ship. In one of the shops I score a replica Spartan army helmet, which will make a perfect addition to the artwork in my study back home.
          There’s plenty of time back on board to relax a bit and get in a workout before the evening dinner and show. After that, we head to the casino bar, where karaoke night is underway. Mom starts things out with “Satin Sheets”, and then I surprise Sue by singing her favorite, “White Christmas." It’s already white back home; we’d gotten word yesterday that there was nearly a foot of snow on the ground back in northwest Wisconsin. Although we miss our dog and cats, we’re not quite ready to give up this weather.

Tuesday, November 16---at sea aboard the Pacific Princess

          Another day at sea, the second of our planned three during the voyage, and it is another day of hitting the gym, playing ping-pong, reading, and meeting fellow passengers. There is an air of excitement as we talk about our upcoming itinerary: two days in Israel, followed by two in Egypt. To get ready, we attend a lecture about Egypt, where the ship’s resident excursion expert tells us what will be happening ashore, gives tips on dealing with the locals and other helpful information. The lecture he delivered yesterday, on Israel, is being aired on ship’s TV so we make sure to catch that as well.
          It is hard to believe we have been gone a week already, but the best is yet to come.

Sunset on the Mediterranean as we sail for Israel.