"If I should decide to make a slight movement from left to right, or right to left, it's nobody's business but my own." Eeyore "Standing in the middle of the road is very dangerous; you get knocked down by the traffic from both sides." Margaret Thatcher
The 2.5 mile hike was cancelled due to lack of interest. Good thing…
Welp. So much for lesson about not getting off the boat. Woke up offshore in Korcula, looks gorgeous over there, have to tender in. Walked out onto balcony and it’s HOT and HUMID. I don’t do well in hot and humid especially walking around. I was all set to go – my hat, my walking stick, my swimsuit on under my shift, sun lotion applied, walking shoes on. Something in my intuitive self just said “Don’t be stupid, Mary”. I fought intuitive Mary. I didn’t want to miss out. I finally did just say no, though, and bid Al farewell.
As I got on the elevator to go back to the room to change out my little bag from shore excursion to hand sewing and computer, a younger-than-I-man said “aren’t you going onshore”? I said no, it was just too hot and I decided against it. At that, he lifted up his arms to show me the dripping sweat on his t-shirt and he simply said “one hour…”. I thanked him profusely for validating my decision!
Went up to the Crow’s Nest. I was the only one there. I joked with the coffee server that I had the whole place to myself, that I was now the queen. After I got my coffee I noticed a gentleman sitting by himself reading, so I told him if I was the queen, he must be the king. He asked me to sit and chat and the next thing you know:
He and his wife live in Minneapolis about five blocks from my son. He runs to fetch his wife.
They have a condo.
They like to get away for a little while in the winter.
They are open to house exchange.
Susan and I hit it off like only two women from the midwest can hit it off.
Sometimes it’s all right to not get off the boat.
The view of the pretty little town from my balcony. We will be here again next week – maybe it will be better. As I sit in the crow’s nest the ship at anchor is slowly turning like the top of the Space Needle in Seattle (if it still does that) and I am getting a360 degree changing view.
Woke up exhausted. Had a cup of coffee and my breakfast in the room, looked out the balcony and thought “whatever”. Went back to sleep until about 10:30 a.m. to find Al had already walked around a bit and gotten the lay of the land. He told me to go ahead and just rest but then he said something about maybe finding a beach and I rallied. I asked for ten minutes and it took me five and we were on our way!
We took the shuttle bus to the town of Chania, walked through the regular town and then all the obligatory touristy shops and restaurants until we got to the old city walls, one Byzantine and then for good measure another layer was built by the Venetians who conquered them. (Glad you can keep all this straight, because I sure can’t).
Guess what? My radar found me inside a fabric shop! Imagine that! Snagged myself about a yard of cotton fabric. There was very little quilt type cotton, but I like the Greekish pattern I bought and it will serve me well in a quilt someday.
Also stopped to get a wide brimmed hat for our hike in Korcula.
We kept walking along the wall and I searched up “beaches”. Some of them I knew about because between coffee and my early morning back to bed I had checked out ways to get there. Not impossible but – the nap….
Second search revealed a little swimming area where the locals go. There it was, people swimming. Turns out it was just some cruise folks like us, one a nurse from Puerto Rico who works on the ship (now THAT’S a gig – she works for a traveling nurse company and works on ships!). Like me she almost didn’t get off the ship but before it was over she had bought herself a bikini and was in the water.
That swim was the best ever. The water is crystal clear. It was rocky and somewhat treacherous to get in but once you realized you just needed to sit down and move out that way – well, we sat for a good 45 minutes. Beyond refreshing and good conversation with our nurse. It was hard to get out for sure. We didn’t have towels and my swimsuit kept me cool for the rest of our walk.
We ended up at cafe Veros, one of the many cafe’s lining the water. Ordered myself a virgin Pina colada, Al had a local beer and we shared a greek pizza. It was a sublime day without having to learn anything.
It was a short stop in Mykonos, just five hours, and that was plenty. Unless you are staying on Mykonos for a few weeks in the estate that Jackie O’s household help stayed in, there’s not a lot to do. We will be coming back on our return trip next week, due to the cancellation of Santorini, which is disappointing but that’s cruise travel. Santorini is the iconic white, blue domed buildings that you see in photos of Greece. Sometimes ports of call get switched around and that’s the name of the game. You can get upset about it or shrug your shoulders. We’ve learned to shrug our shoulders. It’s not always the fault of the cruise company – there can be many reasons for a port of call to not be available when it was supposed to be. As an example, although we were able to dock at Mykonos today, a cruise ship yesterday was not able to do so because of rough seas and couldn’t get in. Once again our weather was Mary-perfect. Sunny and breezy so not too hot.
Anyway, when we return next week we will take a boat ride out to Delos which back in the day was the center of Greece religion and commerce bringing all the city states of Greece together. More ruins, etc. I’ll be able to tell you more about that later.
As for Mykonos, it is apparently a great party spot and we can see that is true by the number of beachside restaurants and bars lining the entire old town coastline. A short ferry ride takes us from the ship to the old town. Al and I just walked around past endless clothing, jewelry, souvenir, you name it shops and got pretty much totally lost. Rick Steve’s guide advises that’s the fun of Mykonos is getting lost and not really being in any danger of REALLY getting lost. Having said that, Al heard somewhere that it was built that way to confuse enemies.
Santorini may get all the photos taken but Mykonos has the same bright white paint with blue trim that is so pleasant to the eye. The streets are very narrow and people do live there, so laundry hung from the balconies, cats roamed (of course) and one woman on a balcony even shook out her rug practically on top of us (passive aggressive much? Maybe, maybe not).
There are 16th century windmills at the top of a hill that we climbed without even realizing it and we hoped to see a couple of museums (archaeology and marine) that were recommended on the Great Courses class. The guidebook said they were closed but the internet said they weren’t and even though we wanted to make sure for ourselves, we never did find them.
We did come across the cute little Catholic Church (blue dome!) and an old ruined monastery that was quite picturesque. To be honest we came across the monastery twice and the second time we couldn’t figure out how we got out the first time. Very maze-like town, and I’m not kidding. We actually hit dead ends. We started to recognize the same shops the third time around. After walking the length of the endless restaurants and back twice we finally found our way back to the ferry boat back to the ship. At which point I realized I had forgotten my can’t-live-without-it collapsible green water bottle somewhere along the line.
Thinking back through the maze I figured I left it near the windmills where we stopped and tried to get oriented enough to find the museums. So back up the hill to the windmills we went and there it was, patiently waiting for me. This time we went to the ferry dock and went back to the ship.
We really feel that we are doing the quintessential “cruising the Greek Isles” now. Tomorrow will find us at Crete all day and we have no idea what we are going to do. At some point on one of these isles I hope to don my bikini (never have I ever) and do a little swimming in the Aegean Sea. Up until now it’s been tour after tour and I’m ready to just relax for a while.
We do have some things planned going forward. Due to a snafu with a cruise shore excursion we have some credit we have to use. We usually don’t do the shore excursions with the boat but before Santorini was cancelled, we thought we would only be in Mykonos one day and we wanted to see Delos so Al made reservations. When we knew we would be coming back – for a whole day – he cancelled those reservations, or thought he had. After some back and forth they gave us credit that we have to use on another excursion. So when we go to Korcula, Croatia we will be “hiking the city wall” (2.5 miles – “strenuous”) and going to the oyster capital of Croatia. I hesitated but what the heck, I have my trekking poles, might as well use them…
It is a strange feeling to be married for forty years. It is almost impossible to place myself in that place and time and remember what I thought “being married for forty years” would look like. I can’t imagine that I thought it would look anything like this. It’s been better. It’s been worse. We’ve been richer. We’ve been poorer. We’ve been healthy. We’ve been sick. Like truly, scary sick. Forty years. In itself, doesn’t even sound as long as it used to. I remember when my parents had been married forty years. Helluva long time, I thought. Not to mention they were old, I thought.
It’s not. We aren’t. (Wait, yes we are, but still have a ways to go). It’s scary to think of how quickly it all went – those child-rearing years that in retrospect went by in a flash. It’s been ten years since we moved to Southern California, empty nesters and suddenly finding ourselves retired. Forty years ago I was starting my career and now it is over.
Meh, it’s too much to really contemplate so I’ll move one. But yeah. Forty years. I can’t even remember what we did yesterday in Istanbul, let alone what comprised forty years of marriage. Anyway, the annual renewal of vows went forward as usual: we will agree to stick it out one more year and see what happens. If we did it forty times we can at least try for forty one.
Istanbul. I’m just not sure what I think about Istanbul. I should confess that I read the book Istanbul by Orhan Pamuk. It was recommended by a professor who lectured in The Great Courses about Istanbul that we watched before out trip, Dr. John R. Hale from the University of Kentucky, Louisville. Pamuk’s book is a memoir of Istanbul, he was born in 1952, and it centers around the profound changes in the physical and metaphysical character of Istanbul as a result of the crashing of the Ottoman Empire and the forming of the Turkish Republic in the 1930’s under Ataturk. As the author makes clear from the beginning, it is a story of melancholy, an empire in ashes. He relates how the romanticized western version of exotic Istanbul of the 19th century was no longer what it was. The Istanbul of the 20th century wanted to be Western European, at the same time grieving the loss of its past. It was dark. I am, of course, condensing a brilliant, poignant book written by a man who has lived his entire life in the city, into my limited understanding of it.
Nevertheless, it colored my experience. The Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, The Topkapi Palace, the Bosphorus, the few buildings that are left on the banks of the Bosphorus from that period, and so much more of backstreets Istanbul that I will likely never see – all of it I simply could not take at face value but had to make an attempt to see it through the eyes of Pamuk. It goes back even further, though, than the collapse of the Ottoman Empire. The Romans, the Persians, the Greeks – the usual cast of characters in that part of the world all had a part in making Istanbul the wearying city that I found it today. Weary not in its essence, but wearying in that the history is so thick, so serious, so full of the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. The more I learn about this part of the world, the less I worry about our silly adolescent country of the United States of America.
We got off the ship and just as the night before, we walked (I checked on the way back) 2000 steps through the “Galataport” that is obviously very new and looks like an airport with three stories worth of escalators and turnstiles and is bright and shiny and clean. (The cruise director joked before the evening entertainment that he really enjoyed Istanbul but didn’t really see as much of it as he wanted because by the time he got through the Galataport he had to turn around and come back to the ship…He got an appreciative laugh out of that one…)
We met our guide and were on our way (again, only five of us thanks to Al’s research and planning). His name was Oz and he was an excellent historian. He apologized in advance for possibly “talking too much” but we kept assuring him we were rapt. I told him he could talk all he wanted as long as there would be no test. Someone asked at the end how he came to do what he does and he actually went to college for four years to do this job. Architecture, history, archaeology, etc. As it turns out he is also an inspector for the city when he isn’t wearing his tour guide badge and keeps an eyes and ears on the tour industry. There are buildings here and there and the signs on them in big letters tell us it is the Tour Police and so we found out that is what that’s all about. He said some vendors in the spice market do not like him too much… The point is this guy knows his stuff and clearly loves his city.
He gave us a quick history lesson about Ephesus (remember Ephesus?) being the capital of what was then Asia Minor until the Romans and Constantine moseyed on over, and the capital became Constantinople (now Istanbul). I took notes for all of this but as usual if you really want to know the real history instead of something I’m just making up, you’ll have to look elsewhere. (When I finish these blogs at the end of the trip I’ll be recommending where to do that easily and non-boringly).
Our tour was in the Golden Horn area, the GH being a four mile inlet around which the areas of must-see-if-you’re-there-for-a-day tour interest reside. It was a major port in Constantinople and had a big ol’ chain across it to keep invaders at bay. Fun story: when the Ottoman Mehmet II wanted to get in in the 1453, he rolled his ships over the surrounding hills on logs one night – one night, I said – to circumvent the inlet. That was that for “Constantinople…”
Back at the fort, we started at the Hippodrome which at this point just looks like a lovely park/rectangular square. The Hippodrome, a Byzantine era arena, seated ~75k and had been around since the 3rd century AD and really hit its sweet spot when Constantine I ruled the roost. It was for chariot races and parades and the occasional execution, but not gladiator contests as Hollywood might have us believe. It deteriorated after the fourth Crusade in the 13th century AD.
There are very few interesting leftovers of all the spoils of war and invasions that were abundant here, including a monument tower of Constantine that was covered with bronze and emeralds. All that remains is a rather ugly cement column with a lot of divots in it where the bronze had been attached. That bronze was removed to make weapons in the Crusades. Remember the four bronze/copper horses back in Venice? They were stolen from the Hippodrome. Those four horses I found out were originally sculptured in Greece in the 2nd or 3rd century BC, and I’m not sure I knew that when I wrote about them in Venice. I remember saying those horses “got around” but they were busy travelers, those four. Can you understand why I’m so confused all the time about the history around here. Why can’t everybody just get along?
Then there’s the Karnak obelisk (or one third of it) that was stolen from Egypt – in pretty good shape and the photos will show the Egyptian symbols on it honoring Pharaoh Thutmose III. You remember all about him, right? Me neither. It rests on a another monument base that depicts Emperor Theodesius watching the races, holding the olive wreath crown for the victor and the coolest thing is one of the sides of the base shows the obelisk on its side and then people using pulleys to get it upright. At that point I did ask my question of the guide and got my question answered – how did they MOVE all this stuff back and forth. The answer was as I thought – slaves/aka conquered peoples. Thy will be done was pretty much the way it went down – you want those Four Horses moved to Venice? Ok. Done. I’m starting to be less angry at the British Museum…this stuff just cycles through so “whatever” is probably their stance.
(By the way, in Ephesus we were told by our guide that the slaves of the day were the people of the conquered lands. Most of them were well educated and were often the teachers and sometimes leaders in their new digs)
From there we went on a walk to The Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia, Topkapi Palace and all kinds of interesting things in between. A quick stop at the German Fountain, notable because the relationship between Kaiser Wilhelm II and the sultan led to them being allies in WW I which didn’t end well for either of them.
Then on to the Blue Mosque. Of the 3000 (!) mosques in the city of Istanbul it is famous for the 6 minarets and 20,000 Isnak (15century) tiles. Minarets are those tall columns arising from the mosque where imams call to prayer. The call is through loudspeakers now but the imam is still calling in real time from inside the mosque. We heard this in Morocco and again here it is a beautiful and timeless experience to hear. The six minarets caused a bit of a stir. Apparently a reflection of the sultan building it, in this case Sultan Ahmed and they can be fancy but not overshadow the mosque in Mecca. The mosque in Mecca had six minarets. Oops. Mecca eventually added a 7th which solved the problem.
The Blue Mosque is called this because of the exquisite blue mosaics inside. As is common when travelling to see iconic churches wherever you go, even in the US, renovations were underway and the inside of the mosque was unfortunately for us a spider web of scaffolding. Unfortunate because if you look at photos on the internet it is a far cry from what we were able to see, but that’s life. I can’t even post a decent photo of my own of the inside. Considering I didn’t even know it existed until I set foot in Istanbul I can’t complain.
On to the Hagia Sophia. This I did know about. This gem has quite the history, first built as a Byzantine Catholic Cathedral that was the eastern counterpart to the Vatican in Constantinople (new Rome). After the Ottomans dragged their ships over the mountain and took over the city, it became a mosque. It was a museum for a while after the Turkish Republic was established, but in 2020 it became a functioning mosque again. There are political reasons for this and when I asked the guide if the people of Istanbul find the resurgency of fundamentalist Islam (and President Erdogan who thinks he should keep being “elected” is desirable) rather concerning he replied “Yes, we are scared”. He started to give me a history lesson about how Iran used to be a free country and women held office and high positions in education and I had to admit to him that not only do I know that, but I REMEMBER it. A quick internet search reveals I have not been paying attention to all this. When we were in Hong Kong maybe 8 years ago, even though the UK had let its lease expire, it was still impossible to fathom that the cosmopolitan, open city we visited could ever be truly under China’s thumb again, but here we are.
As in Morocco, most of the women in Turkey are relatively free and wear Western dress, but we also saw many, many women, young women with babies, old women and in between, wearing full burqas in Istanbul. Entering into the Blue Mosque I thought I was okay wearing a mid-knee length dress with a scarf around my arms, but was instead handed a long black skirt to put over myself. I expected to cover my arms but was surprised that my calves were also too risqué.
Hagia Sophia, an architectural wonder, a religious and political enigma, did not have ready- to-wear skirt for me (you could buy a paper cover) so I fudged it and managed to drape my huge scarf around both my head and calves. I am including a link to information on the mosaics inside the mosque as it is convoluted. It has not always been so that the Christian images were covered but then they were plastered over and mosaic-ed over then they were recovered and now that it has been converted into a practicing mosque again – who knows? https://www.thenationalnews.com/arts-culture/art/a-look-at-the-mosaics-inside-the-hagia-sophia-they-tell-a-layered-and-important-history-1.1050244
I realize how deep my Catholic roots reach into me because even though I don’t practice anymore and have seen in my travels the evil that “religion” can wreak on the world, from the mythology of the Greeks to the Crusades to the fundamentalism of religions worldwide today, I felt (not thought, there is a difference) a sort of queasiness in Hagia Sophia. It bothered me to see the some of the icons of the religion of my ancestors covered. I think even more than religious affiliation, is it because they are art, they are history. Remembering the ancient Buddhas in Afghanistan that the Taliban destroyed back in 2001, I feel the same sense of deep sadness. Perhaps this is part of the melancholy that Orhan Pamuk refers to as he describes seeing the Istanbul of his ancestors reduced to secular tourism. At any rate my photos give some representation of the cultures that waft through this great building. There is a photo of me in front of Greek “jugs” that are bigger than I am. They were carved out of a single piece of marble, I kid you not. They held wine and you can see the spout hole on the side. I think the guide said they hold water now or maybe oil. Another interesting feature: the Omphalos. Big ol’ marble circles on the floor of different color marble (once again my quilting brain went into overdrive) mark the spot where Byzantine emperors were crowned? Maybe. Over the years, like the mosaics, it was covered by carpets when the Ottomans took over and now it is not. Not a lot of evidence that it was the coronation spot except maybe one guy.
Hagia Sophia – means Divine Widsom. It is a Muslim mosque but not only has vestiges of Christian religion, it has Greek, Jewish and Pagan touches as well. Would that we all had that wisdom, eh?
The crown jewel of our tour was the Topkapi palace, home and offices of the Ottoman sultans for four centuries beginning in the 15th century and reflects the power and wealth of the same. It is huge and so I get a little blurry on what was what when I look at my photos. It is for that reason I am again including a link to the museum itself. I start to think I am getting lazy until I look at the layout map of the museum and I realize I should cut myself some slack. It would be like trying to describe the whole of the Vatican in Rome in a blog. Not happening. So here you go, https://muze.gen.tr/muze-detay/topkapi
I CAN tell you that these guys were livin’ large. The views are out-of-control, the courtyards make you want to just camp out. The museum has one room of clocks (380 to be exact), that are the work of Ottoman and European clockmakers. Too cool. It also houses the worlds fourth largest diamond in the world, The Spoonmaker’s Diamond, a whopping 86 carats. I took a photo but you can certainly find better ones online. Also the Topkapi Dagger which holds three monster emeralds and lots and lots of diamonds set in the gold. It’s pretty, all righty. The rooms of the palace are typically tile and mosaic as you would expect. Like art in Italy, after a while you just have to soak it in and let it inform your senses, there’s just too much to grasp.
Our tour almost over, we stopped at the Stone of Million, which is an easily overlooked monument from the Byzantine era. It was essentially ground zero mile marker from which distances of all Byzantium cities were measured. It was an arch and all that remains is a monument from fragments that were found under housing in the area. Our guide tells us this is the true meaning of the “all roads lead to Rome” seeing as Constantinople was “new Rome” built by Constantine.
Final stop was the spice market. Walking in is an olfactory delight, but the only thing I bought was saffron. The Grand Bazaar was not open on Sunday which was fine with me. One woman went the night before and said it was uncomfortably crowded. That is not my happy place, so I don’t feel like I missed anything.
It was a long day, with lots of information. I hope the photos give you an idea of how wonderful it all was. Once again stepping back in time and all the confusion and change and humanity that it teaches.Here are lots of photos to make up for my inability to describe it all…
Theo Holding Olive WreathConstantine No More Bronze MonumentKarnak ObelisErecting the ObeliskTheo Watching the RacesBlue Mosque DomeSome Blue Mosque TileThat’s my fanny pack under my borrowed skirt, Im not a preganant nunEntrance to TopkapiSultan’s ChairHorse ArmorReceiving Area86 Carats, BabyTopkapi DaggerTopkapi Nice Pocket Watch, DudeGreek Jugs at Hagia SophiaChristian Symbol at Hagia SophiaAl and Our Guide at SophiaHagia SophiaPagan Neptune in Hagia SophiaOmphalisAll RoadsMile Zero MonumentWhat’s Left of the Arch
Just a quick one tonight. Arrived in Istanbul at 4 p.m. after a day pretty much sitting around. I don’t know how I still got 10K steps in but I did. We went out for a sunset boat ride. Maybe 20 people on the boat, took us up and down the Bosphorus which is the channel between Istanbul, Turkey, Europe and Istanbul, Turkey, Asia. It connects the Black Sea and the Sea of Marmara (which leads to the Aegean and then the Mediterranean. My geography is really experiencing some enlightenment even if my grasp of history is not. Lots of mosques, lots of Ottoman sultan leftover buildings including palaces, summer homes and fortresses, three bridges between the continents and we went under two of them. First we went down the Europe side and went towards the Sea of Marmara (where we entered earlier in the day) and then turned around and went up the Asia side to the entrance of the Black Sea just after the sun went down and kept sailing until the lights just started to come on in the city. Got a nice shot of our cruise ship at night which we don’t usually get to see. Some photos of stuff for you, including the Galeta Tower where some guy (ok I looked it up – Hezarafen Ahmed Celebi) put on some glider wings in 1632. He jumped off the tower and glided 2 miles across the Bosphorus for the first intercontinental flight.
Tomorrow is the tromping around looking at stuff day and once again trying to grasp history.
PS There are some photos of a wedding venue at some old palace that’s now a five star hotel. Wish I’d gotten photos of the guests – looked like Oscars night. Just got a few shots of the fancy dancy setup. It is Saturday night and there were weddings all along the Bosphorus in various venues, none as fancy as the first one but still pretty fun.
Still having trouble loading up videos. Contacted WordPress who was able to do it from their end and suggested I try a different browser or wait til I get more stable internet. I’ll keep plugging’ away at it. Maybe wait til I get home and then video bomb a final post.
Once again I am in the position of trying to summarize an entire day of a tour guide pouring information into my brain. I’m so tired (this has been going on for a few days now from Venice to Greece to Turkey) so if this sounds disjointed, it is simply a mirror of what’s happening in my brain pan right now.
First of all, it’s not Turkey, it’s Anatolia. So much more lyrical I think! Yes, it’s Turkey but not Turkey according to our vivacious and fun guide, Banu. Al had to ask if they eat turkey and not only do they eat turkey but they were major exporters of Turkey to the rest of Europe and thus the common name. Turkey is 98% Muslim but is not as conservative as other Muslim nations, due to Ataturk who came in and secularized the country, due to Ataturk (the Father of the Republic of Turkey). That has to be the world record for use of the word “turkey” in one paragraph.
If it isn’t clear to you yet, Al plans the trips and I pack my stuff and go. I knew we were going to Ephesus and the apparent home of the Virgin Mary. I did not know that Ephesus was actually an entire town of ruins. At one time there were 250,000 people living there, it was a thriving seaport city and lots of rich people lived there. The main goddess was Artemis and the temple to her was one of the Ancient Wonders of the World. At this point all that remains of that temple is one measly column. With a stork nest (including little ones) on top. This is all BC stuff and the usual pull and tug of who is in charge went on (can you sense I’m getting tired of hearing this story). Then the usual Christians vs. Pagans conflict started, St. Paul spent a two years there and most people were happy ( Banu told us the people were ripe since all their groveling to their gods was not really helping them stay out of the way the bad guys who wanted their stuff – Paul was filling up the 25,000 seat stadium) until a guy named Demetrius got irritated that Artemis was losing her status and he staged a riot against Paul. The town protected Paul but he decided to scoot anyway since other Christian evangelists were not faring to well in the staying alive department. It was after that you get Paul’s letter to the Ephesians from his new digs in Macedonia.
Yes, a 25,000 seat stadium. A library. Temples. Three story mansions. All this from the seaport economy. They kept rebuilding after the above-mentioned this n that of various bad guys coming in who destroyed it. So what the heck happened that was the last straw?
Two things. Earthquakes in the 6th and 7th centuries AD diverted the river that ran to the sea and slowly turned the whole bay into a silty marsh. Whereas it was a seaport town, the coast is presently 6 miles away. And because of that came mosquitos. And because of the mosquitoes came malaria. That just about did it when 3,000 people died and then other guys decided to start invading again. So the Ephesians just picked up and left. Like some kind of ancient western ghost town, they left a lot behind when they moved. They took what they had to and left behind the everyday detritus of life like hundreds of little oil pots. So cute and I want one but they wouldn’t let me start to rummage around the hillside.
The hillside. The hillside that slowly slid down over the town and buried a lot of it. Not to be deterred, archaeologists (do I spell that differently every time? I feel like I am but I’m not getting redlined by spellcheck) started sifting through it all and boy did they find some cool stuff.
There were main streets and public toilets and bathhouses and promenades with tiled sidewalks that went past shops. It had huge agoras where the food was sold, it had a gymnasium (for the boys, of course) and brothels for the sailors. (They know this because of the road sign, see photos). It was the terraced houses that blew us away though. Mosaics and murals and even evidence that the homes had been redecorated with several layers of plaster on the walls with new artwork. There were antiques from the Egyptians (any antique collectors out there? We weren’t the first…) Marble tables. Sculptures. These people had big bucks. With help from many corporate benefactors from all over the world and even Virginia Tech modern diggers were able to build a 6 million dollar roof over the terraced homes that have been excavated to protect them from decay. It is fascinating to see how they are putting literal puzzle pieces together of walls and floors and then putting them back where they belong. Tables and tables of puzzle pieces. They have not been able to work there since Covid but are expected to be able to come back later this month. I can’t imagine being able to do such exciting work as putting puzzles together and then having to just stop. I get obsessed doing a jigsaw puzzle on my dining room table and there’s no real importance in that. There will be photos of this and although they know there is much much more under those hills, when they complete this restoration that will be the end of it. Unless someone comes a long with more millions.
The mosaic floors have not been dusted since 2019 so are a little dusky but still visible.
They had steam heat in these homes.
One photo below shows how the marble was sliced to be able to mirror it on the walls. Not really sure how they were able to get it so thin with tools available at the time.
They had an area for musicians to play music while they took a dump in the public toilets. Great job, that, huh?
The 25,000 seat stadium and other areas of the town are still used for concerts.
Backgammon games etched in rock all over the place.
The brothel sign in the photo. It was a seaport and the sailors were welcomed as sailors often were and are. The footprint was the size your foot had to be to enter. Circled on the right is an etching of a woman with a crown. Circles on the left is a heart. ‘Nuff said.
The town that became the new Ephesus is Selcuk and that’s where we were the rest of the day.
Moving on to the rug weaving. Those salespeople take one look at me and because I am thrilled by the art of it and pay rapt attention to the demonstration of how they make them, they figure I’m in the market for a $30,000 rug. I’m not but believe me, if I owned a terraced home and was an Ephesus scion I probably would be. I know now the difference between a double knotted rug and a single knotted rug, a silk rug versus a mercerized cotton (the cotton is softer and silkier), a regular cotton and a silk/cotton combo, a wool rug, a machine made rug versus a handmade rug. I know that Turkish silk is pure white because they feed them mulberry leaves. There is a mile of silk thread in a single cocoon. I wish I needed a rug. They are indescribably luscious and colorful.
After that we had lunch – I’m going to resist buying a Turkish cookbook to add to my collection of cookbooks from other parts of the world that I never use, but it’s tempting just for yogurt plus goodies recipes alone. Kebabs of course but beef/lamb meatballs (they are called meatballs in Turkey regardless of their shape) and cheese sticks. I have NOT been watching my weight, rationalizing that the food is fresh and I’m walking 10-20k steps a day but I don’t think I’m going to win any Weight Watchers loser of the week awards. Really what needs to stop is the daily ice cream.
Next stop – the shrine of the house of the Virgin Mary. Our guide explained that although there is no actual written evidence that she lived there, there is still strong belief, even among Muslims. It is known that she was “entrusted” to John when Jesus was killed and that when he moved to Ephesus because he was in danger of persecution, it is likely she was with him. The home is up in the hills in a forest-like setting and certainly protected. The strongest evidence that it was actually her home at the end of her life is that the ruin (which is now like a chapel) has long been honored by descendants of the early Christians of Ephesus. I supposed as an oral and ritualistic tradition it has some merit. Regardless, was a lovely setting and nice to think of this real woman (who is also mentioned in the Quran) spending her final years here after having a rather tumultuous early life. As a cradle Catholic it is definitely strange to return to port and see tour signs blinking on and off “House of Virgin Mary!” intermittently with “Ephesus”! House of Mary magnets, too.
I was hoping the whole experience would be a little more spiritual than it turned out to be.
The only thing I can say and this is really stretching it, is that as we passed the garden there were little white butterflies flitting around a bush on the right of the fountain and one single butterfly flitting around the bush on the left. I decided to count the butterflies on the right and I’m not lying there were twelve. You know I’m a believer in things beyond our human understanding so I’m going to go ahead and say it was a sign – the twelve apostles and Mary flitting around. I know, I know. But ya never know. Just because it can’t yet be proved by our inferior human selves doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
Our official tour itinerary was over but Banu was willing to take us wherever we wanted to go. So we stopped at the Ephesus Museum which was well worth the stop as many artifacts from Ephesus are kept there – outdoor sculptures as well as stuff from inside the homes. These people were LOADED.
Then we had an option to stop at Lotus Ceramics Gardens . There used to be several different families who made this pottery but they decided that competition was not serving any of them well so they formed a corporation and now they are all supported by UNESCO. The pottery is made from local clay which produces strong and clear-as-a bell ringing pottery. We were looking for a wedding present and decided on the moonstone glazed pottery which glows in the dark. It is not radioactive and is food safe but we still opted for a vase as a gift. The older woman who was painting pottery when we arrived was part of one of those families and she was a woman of my heart, painting miniature designs on pottery. When they needed a volunteer to play with the clay of course I stepped up. I had never done it before and was complimented that my touch was good – in other words I didn’t splatter clay all over everything within a twenty foot radius. I credit my fine motor skills from years of playing piano. Also, I am concerned because it was highly satisfying and the last thing I need is another hobby.
One thing you see a lot of are stray cats and dogs. I don’t know if it is true for cats – you know how THEY are about their independence – or if it’s true in Istanbul, but dogs are well cared for in the towns we were in. They are fed and vaccinated and neutered and loved. “They are all friendly” according to Banu. The green tag on the ear of the dog in the photo is proof of his vaccination. How cool is that!?!?!?!?!?
We finally ended up as we always do, at port. Because Al had sought out this private tour company (there were three buses of 6, 5 and 4 people respectively) and had booked through the same company for Istanbul, and had kept in touch all these Covid years, the grateful owner gifted us with a plate – the same pottery we had lusted over in Selcuk. The real deal, not fake souvenir shop stuff. Not moonstone but we’ll take it. What a lovely momento and it will join our dining room wall of art from our travels.
Today (the next day) is a REST DAY THANK GOD!!!! We sail to Istanbul but tonight we take a nighttime dinner boat trip through the Bosphorus which separates Europe from Asia, supposedly a phenomenal experience. When I finish posting this I’ll be hand sewing a quilt top the rest of the day and enjoying the ride from the Crow’s Nest through the Dardanelles.
My perch in the Crows Nest with my Coke ZeroEphesusLibraryEmperor?Keystone ArchBrothel SignChariot RutsPublic “Meeting Place” Sliced MarblePuzzle PieceMosaicsEgyptian “Antique”Where’s Al? in the 25000 seat arenaDoggy and his tagRug WeavingLittle Oil Pots!!!!!My mini painting soul sisterMy masterpieceGetting ready to get addicted to a new hobby
Oh Magoo, you’ve done it again. That’s all I could think of as we walked down from the Acropolis. Al once again put together an amazing tour through a private company. 9 of us in a Mercedes bus with a Greek driver who spoke perfect English and our guide, Sofia, an archaeologist and mother who knew her stuff and had a little chuckle that just delighted.
I honestly was dreading heading to the Acropolis and the Parthenon, not because I didn’t want to see it, but because I knew it would be a walking schlep and hot. This is the second time I was pleased to find that except for the actual grounds of the ruins, Greece is loaded with shade trees (olives, of course). There was a constant breeze at the top of the hill but the best part? Our tour took us there FIRST, instead of other sights and then getting to the Acropolis when forty other tours are arriving at the same time. As a result we were able to get some pretty decent photos and in general it was pleasantly uncrowded. It wasn’t that nobody was there, but by the time we made it back down to our bus, the line to get in with other tour groups looked ugly. It could have been much different.
The Acropolis looks just like the pictures you saw in your geography books. I guess what I didn’t expect was how much bigger it was than what I envisioned (pictures in my geography book were so small). I guess I also figured “meh” because everyone’s seen the pictures a million times. Once again, the spirit of the ancient stories caught my attention and the sense of awe at all that went down during the lifetime of this monument took me by surprise. The marble alone without the backstories would be enough to marvel at.
One of the drawbacks of having tour guides is they tell you fascinating details and anecdotes. It is stimulating to hear these educational lectures but by the time it’s all finished I don’t know whether it’s 500 BC or 1972. I know that the Athenians and the Spartans had at it more than once; I know that the Greeks were under the thumb of Persia for a long time. I know that the Persians ultimately started the Parthenon on fire – and something about the Athenians knew they were coming, they all fled the city except for some die-hards and old people who barricaded themselves with wood up there and the Persians, being all dressed up with no one to kill started a conflagration. It took the roof off the Parthenon and part of the south colonnade and that’s where we stand today.
I learned that the stages were all open air, the music halls were not.
I also learned that Socrates was a sculptor by trade and only did his philosophy thing as a side gig. I did not know that. After he was accused and convicted of being the cause for the deterioration of Athens, by dissing the gods, corrupting the youth and suggesting that perhaps the Persians were not complete barbarians. He took the hemlock willingly on the premise that if his beloved Athenian peers, through rule of law, agreed he should be convicted, so be it. Stand up guy, that Socrates. That’s what you get though for being an “amateur” philosopher, though.
After we left the Acropolis we went to the Parliament to watch the changing of the guard, which honestly looked like they were training the guys to do it, because they were not quite as sharp as you’d expect a changing of the guard to be, and also there was another person dressed like a sergeant or something seemingly telling them what to do. It was weird. I’ll include the video and you can decide for yourself. (It just wouldn’t upload. I may need a refund from WordPress). One detail was that the cute fluffy shoes were good places to hide razors and everyone in Athens wore them, especially women, to protect themselves from occupying rapists and general marauders.
Onward for a quick stop at the site of the first modern Olympic games for pictures and another opportunity to stand where others have stood.
We made our way to the Plaka which is a flat area in Athens and floated through the souvenir shops and had lunch. Al got a t-shirt. His modus operandi when we travel is to take old t-shirts that have seen better days with him, leave them behind and get new ones. I lured Al into an olive wood shop just to look. I really didn’t think I’d find anything, I don’t need any wooden salad bowls or salad tongs or wood bowls of any kind. What we did “need” was up there on a shelf. Before we left I wondered what ever happened to our travel mahjong set. Haven’t run across it in awhile and maybe we left it somewhere. We ended up with a gorgeous handmade olive root set.
Our lunch was a shared moussaka. I always associate moussaka with eggplant but this one was beef and potatoes and sooooo good.
After lunch we went to the Acropolis Museum which is new and state of the art. Sofia told us that it has always been an issue if you want to build anything new in Athens. The minute you start to dig you hit something ancient, Greek or Roman. Then there is a big fight to keep it from being disturbed. Finally, a compromise has been reached. The Museum was built but the floor is glass so you can still see the excavation, and hope is that the system can be used in other places where this occurs (everywhere, tho?).
The Museum houses original and replicas of the ornamentations – sculpted story panels about the gods and eventually every day Athenians, full size and mega sized sculptures. Pottery galore of course and a nice exhibit about natural sources that were used to make the paints – for example lapis lazuli, vermillion (minium), indigo plant, malachite. Before we came on this trip Al had told me about The British Museum that houses a lot of stuff pilfered from – well everywhere the British Empire landed, but he particularly remembered huge slabs from the Parthenon and Acropolis. It was sickening to see HUGE sculptures of the gods and animals that are plaster replicas because the originals are in Britain.
Sofia said there is a push to start bringing things back now that there is a place to put them, and prior to this it was more or less agreed that the best place to preserve the treasures is in a museum in a controlled environment. Whether it will happen or not only time will tell, but there is a movement to start returning stuff that’s been stolen in the past from “conquered” countries. It’s not just the Brits, of course, it’s everyone from every country. Walking off with “spoils of war” is not just a passing fad as I’ve learned in every country we’ve visited so far this trip.
Can’t remember the details of why the statues were “sawed off” and then not taken after all. So the ladies of the Parthenon are still in the Grecian museum (please note their lovely braided hair) but without feet. Frustration abounded in the voice of our archaeologist/guide.
Another thing I learned in the museum how they lugged all those discs one on top of another. There’s a miniature replica of the system that is pictured below.
It has been a very calm sail since we started four days ago. Until tonight. We left Athens with a stiff breeze in our faces and as I write we are rockin’ and rollin’ and it sounds like a gale out there. Although I love the energy of it, I’m starting to actually feel a little queasy even though I’m already in bed. So I sign off and tomorrow – is there no relief for this night owl? – another early morning as we arrive in Turkey and tour Ephesus. The cruise director before the main stage show told us the port city is known for genuine fake trade. Buyer beware. The main stage show was a quartet of guys who were so great – each one a soloist but their solo talents were shared in every song, so it was never just a boring “this guy sings this song with the others backing”. They choreographed but not so tightly that each guy’s personality did not come through. Like a well composed painting, it was impossible to fixate on one – they eye kept jumping from one to another and finding enjoyment in the individual singing and dancing.
No seriously I need to lie down now and possibly pop a Dramamine. I love a good storm though.
Under the MuseumOne at a Time…Fluffy ShoesFootless LadiesMoussaka in the Shade!
Woke up to the strawberry moon just cleaning up its desk and getting ready to head home for the day. It was 6 a.m. and I wasn’t sure if it was a hazy sun or the moon. Once I was up, I was up and we were sailing into Katakolon, a port on the western side of Greece for a short day. There were lots of personal sailboats moored and it reminded me of my friend Tina M. who is second generation Greek (She may correct me on that. She might even be first). When Tina retired she learned to sail in SF Bay and I know she has been here sailing the Greek Isles. Take me, Tina!
We didn’t stick around in the little town but introduced ourselves to a couple at port who looked a little disoriented. Exactly who we were looking for! Many people had scheduled tours but we just wanted to go Olympia and the taxi ride is about 45 minutes and expensive. I asked if they were by chance going to Olympia. They said they’d like to but weren’t sure how to do it. Have I got a deal for you! We split the cab ride then with Don and Lee from Rhode Island, thoroughly enjoyed their company and conversation as we walked around the archaeological site, had lunch, more on that later.
The town of Olympia itself is a charming town from the little I saw driving through. I could see spending time there but we went on to the main attraction, where we bought our tickets for the Museum and archaeological site. As usual my expectations of what I would see and what I DID see were not even close. I expected to see maybe an old arena, I knew the track field was there, maybe some stands. I dunno, like the Anasazi ruins in the Southwest US. It was so much more than that.
This place was a rockin’ sanctuary starting in about 900 BC or thereabouts. You know those archaeology types – they can’t fully agree on anything, but they all agree it was a sanctuary. There were temples galore there to every god you can imagine, statues and ornamentation on all of them, some just for fun, some depicting scenes of the glory and drama of the gods. Zeus and Hera were the stars of the show. The tense here is past, and as with most of these kinds of places, it’s mostly now a pile of broken rocks and you have to put on your time travelling imagination glasses and try to imagine what it must have looked like. People from all the city-states came here to build monuments, deposit goodies at the temples of the gods in thanksgiving for defeating the whatever city-state they were fighting at the moment. The Olympics back then were all part of the show to honor the gods.
The museum houses what has been found at the site thus far dating back to the prehistoric 8th century BC through 5th century AD. Lots of bronze – trinkets, votives, statuettes, helmets, shields, weapons, vases, tripod cauldrons, glass vases. Originally glass was made by casting and other methods that I don’t remember. Blowing glass only came around later and that’s when glass became more accessible for us peons. Terra cotta everything – building decorations, pots, ewers. Most of the little trinkets were left by visitors/worshippers and are the size of those little green army men kids play with except they are brass. Statue of Nike, (incomplete, no wings), lots of headless statues. I wanted to know why they don’t have heads and a quick Google search reveals one reason may be that some Roman emperor wanted all the statues and was going to replace the heads with his own. What IS it with these megalomaniacs????? I guess there’s a grand tradition. He died anyway so they stayed there. I should note that a lot of damages are attributed to earthquakes over the centuries.
What is NOT there is the 41 foot tall gold and ivory statue of Zeus seated on an ebony and bejeweled throne that was created by Pheidias, who earned his reputation working on the Acropolis. It was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. It is known that it existed because of its depiction on coins and descriptions of it, including ancient gift shop sized souvenirs of the statue that were found elsewhere, according to one scholar we listened to on a documentary before we left. There were tourists even then who wanted their memento! Lots of theories as to what exactly happened to it after the pagan temples were destroyed but the present theory is that it was taken to Constantinople where it was destroyed by fire.
I just have to stop and say this. Doesn’t this just sound like there was a superhighway of stuff going back and forth between countries and states? Art! Statues! Huge bronze/copper horses! Now we defeated you and we want it back. Wrap it up and let’s go, hurry up. How did they do this? I have a hard time lugging three bags of garden amendment from Lowe’s. I mean I know there was a lot of slave labor and people in general, but how badly did they need to move a 41 foot tall gold and ivory statue on an ebony throne? Sheesh.
As for Pheidias, they found his workshop and in there were molds and clay and what not used in the creation of the statue. One of my favorite stories is that they found his “coffee mug” – and written on it was ‘I Belong to Pheidias’. Which is how they knew it was his workshop. That just cracks me up. Anyone who has ever worked in an office knows not to mess with other people’s coffee cups! I guess he finally got tired of everyone absconding with it and just carved his name into it, like my ribbon on my sewing scissors – ‘touch these and you die (heart, heart, heart).’
The museum also has on display intact pieces of buildings – specifically pediments (that triangle part above a doorway) and the decorations that were added to them – paint and statues. A marble bull that was in Zeus temple is displayed as well as pieces that had fallen off in a separate display case.
Outside to the site itself we ventured. First of all it is much larger than I expected, mostly because I didn’t know it was also going to be a sanctuary of the gods. It was just so cool to be there where ancients walked. Al commented that visiting places like this make you slow down and also not worry about the world so much. Dust in the wind.
The Temple of Hera is the first ruin we encountered and it is notable and probably the most meaningful to me, as this is where a fire is built which lights the Olympic flame and the relay to carry it to the games begins. No matter that the Olympics have become what they’ve become. With that kind of legacy, maybe there is hope for decency, honor, fairness, pride. Or maybe we just need to start building pedestals for the cheaters? Read on.
The stadium is just a big football field at this point and indeed it is kind of surreal to imagine that the arch you walk under to get there is the very same arch ancient Olympians walked up to get to the stadium. Kids have fun running and winning the Olympics on the field but obviously I would have had to be airlifted home if I tried that, so you’ll have to add that to things you can only imagine.
There are other areas outside the stadium where a gym stood as practice buildings for wrestlers, pentathletes, boxers, runners and jumpers. There is also a row of pedestals that used to hold statues of Zeus, dedicated to the cheaters whose fines paid for the statues and had their names memorialized and what they had done to deserve the fine. Kind of a reverse “medal”. Other than that, it was “temple here, temple there, temples everywhere”. The temple of Zeus has a pretty big footprint and the stairs leading up to it are still there. Columns are strewn about everywhere, most of them knocked over like tree trunks and in pieces where they lay.
Stuck kind of off the beaten track is a villa that was not open to the public at this time but you can see walls are largely intact, and the sign says there are mosaics and the baths are in pretty good shape. Nero built it and hung around there for awhile.
It was hot, but we walked slowly and there were lots of trees with wonderful shade where we could cool off and the breeze would function as it is supposed to. When we first walked into the grounds I felt like I was going into a zoo. Flowering bushes, olive trees and large shade trees greeted us and welcomed us even into the areas of ruins. It was so friendly compared to most ruins where you feel like you are in an oven.
We finished up at the the little café and had pork gyros and frozen lemonade. Best “fast food” I ever tasted. Then it was time to meet our driver for our return trip. Ship sailed a few hours later, and I went to the ship pool area to hop in the hot spa. It wasn’t very hot, and the jets were so-so. My neglected thoracic spine (remember all that therapy I recently did? Bad patient). Our cabin has a little bathtub so I came back and hopped in there and it was hotter anyway. After that I suddenly felt generally weak. Fell asleep for probably three hours. We’ve been going non-stop for quite some time now – it’s been 2.5 weeks. I guess it caught up with me.
Bopped down to dinner about 8 p.m. A word about cruise life. Every cruise company is a little bit different and excels in some ways and lacking in others. Holland America has GREAT food. The old stereotype of buffet 24/7 is non-existent on all ships now and has been for some time. Most ships do have food of some sort available but the “midnight buffet” is a thing of the past. The portions are reasonable (they’ve gotten more “reasonable” lately it seems) which is fine with me. You can order a whole second plate if you want. The bread on every ship I’ve been on is my Achille’s Heel (see what I did there?) and I try to stay away from it. It’s always a goal to not come home with an extra fifteen pounds and it’s been easier to do the older I get. Holland America makes it even easier by having set times when you can access food. The other thing Holland America does that I LOVE is that every morning when you step on the elevator, the rug tells you what day it is. This is more helpful than you might think! And yes, I’ve been taking the elevator. 10K steps is easy to get on a trip like this and 20K is often the norm.
Entertainment on ships is also generally more professional and more entertaining than SNL has led us to believe. Last night we saw a thoroughly fabulous dance show with a troupe of 5 dancers. The dancing was across the board – a little ballet-ish, modern, latin. The “set” was dynamic graphics that immersed you in the surroundings – whether it be outer space (outer space? How old AM I?) or a computer game. Feeling kind of bad for the awesome band in the dance club and the Lincoln Center Stage which presents classical music. It’s always better to perform for a crowd but the crowds on cruises ships are very appreciative and last night we made as much noise as we could for the phenomenal dancers who gave 100% even though the theater was nowhere near full. The musicians, dancers, comedians really care about what they are doing and it shows.
Not just on this ship but on every ship we’ve been on. I’m not sure about the booze cruises but I bet the Caribbean companies who are competing with Disney aren’t hiring the likes of me to sing and play piano.
The ship is supposedly 60% full and that’s a LOT of people missing. We really notice the lack of lines at guest services, the emptiness of the dining rooms, the ability to get a deck chair at the pool. I truly wonder what will happen going forward for cruise lines. It is a wonderful way to see the world, but I have a feeling the megaships may go the way of the dinosaur. Venice just this year banned cruise ships from entering the Grand Canal and I think that’s wonderful. It was a bit of a hassle for us as the trip had originally included Venice so we had that transfer situation, but now that I’ve been there I can’t even imagine one of these monsters in the canal. Talk about a buzz kill – you’re floating a long in a gondola with some guy singing O Sole Mio and “BLAAAAT”. We shall see.
Another thing to note is that the ships even before Covid were taking the lead on cleaning up their act in terms of taking care of the venue that has made them what they are. Plastic straws had already been jettisoned before Covid on another cruise line and now on this one. I have not seen ANY plastic anything – forks, spoons, plastic trash can liners. Water conservation is encouraged. As noted above, food waste is alleviated by smaller portions and less food available at ungodly hours.
I’m sure it can be argued that cruising has other sins to its name, but sailing the seas has been around forever and I am hoping that the cruise lines can continue to make changes that will allow people to still travel this way. Fifteen years ago on our 25th anniversary we took our first cruise. I thought I would hate it. I didn’t and I don’t. It has allowed me to see places I would never have seen otherwise. You don’t have to dress up anymore although some folks really get in to “formal” night. The first cruise I think I had five outfits. Now? I have a nice skirt I can wear if I want to get dressed up!
Well, full, FULL day tomorrow in Athens. I have my trekking poles with me and between actually doing my exercises, one Advil and one Tylenol and the poles I think I may have the secret formula for pain free stomping around day.
Maybe I’ll change hats sometime but this is a nice one…
Helmets Through the YearsNice pediment from one of the templesNike with Wings ClippedThe Arch!Al preparing to ascend the steps and offer a trinket to ZeusGood morning, moon
Finally, a day of “rest”. We checked out and walked over to the People Mover which would take us to a bus that would transfer us to Trieste. The ship was originally scheduled to sail from Venice but after the calm of Covid, the Venetians decided enough and the cruise ships can go sail somewhere else. I can’t say I blame them. Although cruise ships are great for the economy of the port cities, I kind of doubt Venice needs the business, being Venice and all. I truly had expected filthy canals – I think probably some years ago this was true before people in general started figuring out we shouldn’t just toss our garbage in our rivers. It was a pleasant surprise that the canals and everything else appeared clean. We did not take a Gondola ride but it did look inviting.
Anyhoo, I think Al finally got it this time. “Right over there” is still too far for me to be schlepping luggage. Our marriage counselor would be proud as we somehow duked it out with as much patience as we could muster with each other. It’s all understandable really. Someone tells him it’s really easy to get to the transfer point. And it is. It’s just that a few details were missing like probably those people hired one of the many porters with their carts specifically designed to ergonomically haul luggage over a bridge with low steps. From here on out I will take responsibility for tending to those details. Al will tell me where we need to be (of course he needs to know where “where” is which requires some forethought) and I will take care of the logistics of getting there with my body and temper intact.
Arriving at the transfer point (the People Mover was easy for sure) was a whole ‘nother ball game. Many buses come and go for various tours, cruise ships, hotels, what have you. Had to feel bad for the young women reps from Holland America who were handling a large group of foreign people who had been standing in the hot sun for over an hour, watching other people’s buses come and go. We still don’t know what the problem was (at one point she said “there was an accident that held up traffic” which got a nice laugh out of the mostly older and wiser crowd) and Al and I ended up having to wait for the second bus which didn’t take too long but still.
Anyway, it gave us a chance to show that we could be loving human beings by not taking out our personal gripes on frazzled young women or each other. Nothing like a common enemy… This was not the case for at least one man, but I understood his frustration. The nap I took on the bus was delicious, and I even woke myself up with one of those snores that wakes you up. Not sure how long I was serenading the rest of the bus…
FINALLY. Collecting our luggage, digging out passports, vaxx cards, negative Covid test results and boarding passes (I carry ALL of that. I learned long ago that watching Al pat at his pockets in a semi-panic hoping to find his passport was not going to work for me…) and we were in our cabin.
I really had it together this time. One suitcase carried all our dirty clothes from the last two weeks and I was going to beat the crowd to the laundry room. The plan was always to take enough to make it to the ship and then do laundry right away. We did have some clothes that were for Scotland weather and some for Greece weather, but the – ahem – basics we had just enough. It was all planned. I packed Tide pods, bounce sheets. I wasn’t gonna get caught in that $3.00 for a mini box of detergent scam this time.
All ships are different. This one has no self service laundry room. Who knew. Not me. So all our laundry got sent off to be washed at an outrageous price but what’re you gonna do? On the bright side it will all be clean tomorrow and we didn’t have to do it.
At any rate, we feel like we are home. No more eating ready-made sandwiches from a mini mart. No more fish and chips. No more pizza. No more “it’s just over here” luggage drags and subsequent public displays of marriage “worse”. (So many obvious honeymooners in Venice and here we are shattering the dream). I really had tired of cruising before Covid, but I love being on the water. The ship seems quite underpopulated tonight, kind of weird. I don’t miss the hubbub but Al the social animal does.
When we arrived in our cabin I looked out over the balcony to see puffy little white clouds in the water. What IS that? Wait. Those are JELLYFISH. Lots and lots of jellyfish. Lots and lots of BIG jellyfish. Rhizostoma pulmo to be exact, largest jellies in the Mediterranean. Turns out this is actually the end of what was an invasion of the jellyfish in Trieste back in April. Local news reports had photos of them piled up on the beach like someone had gotten a little carried away with a bubble bath. They were so beautiful and mesmerizing, we had a hard time pulling ourselves away from the scene. This could be the video that makes me pay up so I can show you on WordPress. Amazing and totally unexpected of course.
At 7 p.m. the big ship horn blew and we were off. As I say the ship is quiet, the dining room was pleasant, the food wonderful (it’s one thing Holland America does well). Now Al is asleep and I am finishing getting caught up on writing. Tomorrow I will enjoy the day at sea, try to get the photos I want ready to upload to WordPress when I get internet again.
Note to self: The key card has a little slit in in so you can hang it around your neck on a lanyard with a clip. I have about six of them. In my drawer at home. Haven’t we had this discussion recently? Like yesterday? I’m either bringing stuff I’ll never use (I am NEVER AGAIN buying bug repellant just because some travel guru says “the bugs are bad this time of the year and make sure you pack repellent…”) or forgetting stuff I would definitely use.
They used to give those lanyards away free at guest services but now you are stuck buying a fancy one in the ship shop. Except no. “Fifteen dollars for two”. How much for one? “Fifteen dollars”. She did laugh when I told her I had six in my drawer at home. I know that the first port we stop at will have them for $2.00 or less at a street vendor.
The bad news – I don’t think there will be mah jongg this trip. The bridge crowd has a dedicated room but didn’t see MJ on the schedule for tomorrow. I haven’t given up hope but will check it out tomorrow. If they don’t have a mahj set it’s all but a done non-deal.
It is the next day and I have spent most of this day realizing I don’t want to be a blog writer for a living lol! At least not on this platform and it would have to be something that I didn’t have to endlessly research to flesh out what I’ve learned and seen.
But before I sign off, I must tell you that in the middle of the night I woke up to the full moon shining in my window, a glistening pathway on the Mediterranean beckoning me to the black horizon. My little iPhone camera did the best it could. Make sure you look at the video after the photos.
Tomorrow is a day at Olympus. Won’t have much internet again, just bought some ship internet today so I could get all this posted. If I can keep up with it nowI should be able to upload in port with my international plan.
Thanks for reading. It makes a difference knowing at least one or two people are enjoying it.
Oh my Lord, another up and at ‘em – an 8:30 train to catch to Venice. This night owl struggles the most with the morning roll calls. Convinced that there is no way this old lady can lug a backpack and her suitcase 15 minutes across cobblestone streets, Al agreed to a cab ride. We arrived in plenty of time (which I also love) and had time for tea and croissants at the train station.
The ride was a bit disappointing. When I think of train ride I think of scenery, but this train goes right smack dab through the middle of mountains, literally, so we mostly saw the inside of a tunnel. It was ok, got a little of yesterday’s writing done. The train is of course in great condition – the Europeans do trains right if nothing else. Fortunately, it wasn’t crowded starting in Florence because we had no idea what to do with our oversized luggage and finally figured out it could go behind the seat if we pushed them hard enough. No on sat next to us for about half the trip, it started to get crowded as we neared our stop in Venice.
Which is where we mistakenly got off the train. Near our stop in Venice. Not our actual stop. Sometimes it seems a miracle that Al and I ever get anywhere we intend to be. It wasn’t a big deal – for two more Euros total we were able to buy tickets for the rest of the way – it was just one more station, the OTHER station, in Venice. In retrospect we probably didn’t have to do that.
I handled that disaster while Al waited with the luggage, and we were standing on the platform we thought we were supposed to be on when I bothered to look at my ticket and the train number, which was NOT coming to platform 5 but rather to platform 9. We raced over to the correct platform (my body crying in frustration) – only to watch the train pull away. Someone assured us we could use those ticket on the next one – so we went back to platform 5 where we were in the first place. By this time neither Al nor I could speak to each other because no one was at fault. We are both dingbats. No sense arguing over which of us was dingbattier.
By the time we got to the correct station and got off the train, however, I was in NO MOOD. Meltdown alert. I love Al, but he is a classic “don’t ask for directions” kinda guy. So, swearing my head off under my breath (and sometimes over it) I finally took over the lead and asked for directions to the hotel (we had already passed it). While Al checked in, I sat there and just cried. My Mom used to say “thank God for the gift of tears”. She was right, I felt much better even though it took me another hour to decide that we would after all make it to our 40thanniversary next week. Cutting it close, though.
It is now 11:30 p.m. after a FULL day of touring Venice so I must complete this tomorrow. It will be a short day tomorrow as we catch the cruise ship and finally, finally, unpack one time and not repack until it is time to go home. Insert sleep here.
It’s the next morning as I write. After having my little sobbing jag in the lobby of the hotel, I almost told Al to go on without me, I didn’t want to be anywhere near him or any human beings for that matter. Within minutes I gathered up my emotional yard sale and agreed to go with him on our two tours. We found our way to the water taxi, which was actually a waterbus, and was exactly like a city bus – crowded – but at least it was outdoors. It was our first taste of Venice and really pretty nice as public transportation goes.
Our first tour when we arrived at San Marcos Piazza was a “secret places” tour of the Doge Palazzo. (Please be warned I may spell that differently each time.) It was interesting – a solid tour of the prison and info about the horrible conditions that most prisoners did not live through even though the usual term was one year. Pretty dark and dank and unsanitary. There is graffiti from actual 18th century prisoners on the walls. Also, the torture room which was really just an awful rope pulley contraption hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the prison. I guess the purpose was to elicit “confessions” but added to the relaxed ambience for the prisoners in the dark cells around this central room.
Then to the archives room which held all the documents of the Republic of Venice. There were floor to ceiling cabinets, and we were told that the manuscripts were cut in three pieces and filed separately so it would be harder for spies to accomplish anything. Also there were copies in two other places – the original backup hard drives! Considering this and all the endless artwork and architecture I have concluded that the Italians have had too much time on their hands forever. This may be why there is no sense of urgency about anything in Italy. If you are an American in a hurry, you will be sorely disappointed by the pace of Italy.
We had to leave this secret tour early because although it was fun and informative, after Al had booked it he discovered if we wanted to see the Cathedral he had no choice but to set up another tour that included the San Marcos Cathedral and it was only offered at that time. It was a three hour tour of the Cathedral and back to the Doge Palazzo Museum, so if we wanted to see the Cathedral we had to make a choice to leave. That didn’t make much sense reading it back, and it didn’t make sense at the time and I once again put my faith in Al and followed him wherever he said he needed to go.
I have been to Italy several times now and of course I know I need to cover my arms to walk into a church, but our morning was so traumatic it didn’t occur to me to grab the scarf I brought for this purpose. So once again I got to buy a cheap scarf – why not, it’s a useful souvenir – but really, Mary. Please quit packing things only to leave them behind in the hotel when you need them.
What can I say about the San Marcos Cathedral/Doge’s Palazzo Complex. Again, taking photos is largely useless, and my words will be dim description of a place illuminated by mosaic art and Gothic architecture. There are only one or two mosaics here, mostly of the inside of the church. One covers the ceiling and walls, the second one is the floors. The scope of mosaics this monstrous building is hard to comprehend. Hard to comprehend how they got the glass pieces so small, (the photo I include was meant to show that (they look huge in the photo – they were the size of your little finger nail) how they fit it all together to make a picture, how they got up so high to do the ceilings, how they managed to finish it at all. Every surface is mosaic. I recalled when we were in St Petersburg Russia at the Church of the Spilled Blood it was so sad. There were a few mosaics left in the cathedral but after the Revolution it was looted (along with everything else) and sold off for almost nothing and few are left. We had to just imagine. That part of Russian history is in and of itself quite the story.
Now we can see what it might have looked like. As usual, I ended up taking photos of the mosaics just because as a crafter/artist type myself it is so damn cool. However, my quilter self did what have done everywhere else I’ve had the privilege to visit, not the least of which was St Petersburg Russia’s parquet floors. I took photos of the floors because those are the coolest quilt patterns I’ve ever seen and I want to make them. I posted these to my sisters and brothers on my FB quilt group and turns out I’m not the only one who glances as the artwork in whatever room they are in and then patiently waits while everyone moves forward so I can photo the floors. My FB group instantly started commenting and one woman even gave info on a book that has fashioned patterns after such floors! I’m only half crazy after all. (I am picking up where I started to fall asleep last night and there are now 776 comments about those photos!)
A note about these floors in the Cathedral. It’s Venice, they are really wavy. You can feel it as you walk, big time. They cannot have pews but rather chairs because pews wouldn’t sit flat on the floor. Part of the building is cracking away from the rest of it. They are working on it.
The San Marcos Cathedral that holds relics of St. Mark. Now here’s a tale for you: the relics used to be at St Mark’s in Alexandria. Some Italian merchants went over there and ended up stealing the body (relics were big business back in the day, if not now). A mosaic on the front of the church depicts the deed, as the turbaned Muslims find the empty tomb and the merchants are depicted stealing away with a shrouded body. They even came up with the perfect justification, which was to save the Christian relic from the Muslims. You can’t make this stuff up.
The “bronze” (but actually mostly copper) Four Horses at St Mark’s (Cavalli de San Marcos). These horses got around before they landed here and one whispered to me that they’ve just about had it and nobody else better try to move them. First they were in Constantinople or somewhere in Byzantium and part of a statue with a chariot. Then they came to St. Mark’s and hung out on the loggia. Then Napoleon enjoyed them for awhile and plunked them on top of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris which or course he had built. (I’m beginning to think more than even power he just liked collecting STUFF everywhere he warred and then showing it off). They came back to Venice in the 1800s and now they are here. They are inside to preserve them and are really quite powerful to view up close and personal.
We got to watch a really cool clock outside the church turn like an odometer from II:59 to III:00. It just dawned on me that I don’t know why the hours are in Roman numerals and the minutes are not. Anyway, it was a moment my Dad would have loved as he was always waking us up from our naps in the back seat on car trips to watch the odometer turn from 49,999 to 50,000 or whatever. That is a lost delight in modern day cars, isn’t it? After the clock struck III one of the two immense figures struck the immense bell with an immense mallet.
The photos below show around the square area. What a hodgepodge of sculptures and steeples and what not, yes? Back to the Palazzo we went not for a secret places tour but for a highlights tour. This place was the white house, congress and supreme court of the Republic all in one building. The Doge was the guy who was the head honcho. The place is filled with wall-sized oils on canvas except in the rooms where Napoleon made off with the spoils of war. Paintings all over the ceiling. Those of you who know art know that the bright blue back in those days was made from crushed lapiz lazuli and it was more costly than gold. I tell you what, that makes for some really striking blue skies. Many of the paintings depict various Doges and they did not carry on as kings and they wore funny little hats that looked like short stocking caps instead of crowns and in each painting they are kneeling, as they considered themselves servants of the state. What a concept, eh?
Speaking of oil paintings, the acclaimed Venetian artist Tintoretto (I never heard of him but he was a really big deal in Venice and elsewhere. His painting ‘Paradise’ is the longest oil on canvas painting in the world. It’s pretty long and takes up an entire width of the Main Hall in the Palazzo. The main hall itself is pretty amazing and I’m going to send you to a great little website that talks about this treasure. http://www.thetourguy.com 12 Astounding Facts About the Doge’s Palace. It’s worth the read and heaven knows I can’t write about it better than he does. He’s got ads but it’s probably worth it if you’re interested.
One room had another cool clock that was all Roman numerals, in “military time” and also ran counterclockwise. There were no real standardized clocks so why not do it that way? She also said something about the new day starting at VI instead of midnight, but I got a little lost. This was nearing the end of a three-hour tour.
Speaking of which, the guide Iola was excellent, not just in her knowledge but in her delivery. Sometimes I felt like she was a kindergarten teacher – she could see our eyes starting to glaze over mostly from fatigue and she would lower her voice and almost whisper in an “I’ve got something really special to tell you” way, which caused me, at least, to wake up and start to listen again. In some of the last rooms she would quietly and gently ask, as if waking up children from a nap “are you ready to continue? Ok. Andiamo”. It was cruel torture that so many of the rooms, being meeting places for the movers and shakers of the time, had bench seating all along the walls – which we were not allowed to take advantage of.
Now then. Mary’s Ignorance alert. I always figured the Bridge of Sighs in Venice was a romantic Romeo and Juliet kind of bridge over a canal where lovers would lament the loss of their love. Turns out it was a small narrow corridor between the room where dudes were convicted of a crime and the dreaded prison discussed above. Once in a blue moon they were allowed to go into the corridor and look out one of two cement latticed windows at beautiful Venice outside. What the….? I wasn’t so much disappointed in the real story as astounded that I was so ignorant of it.
Our exhausting day of guided touring behind us, we nevertheless kept walking to the Rialto Bridge fueled by gelato, hopped on the waterbus and went back to our hotel. I showered and rested while Al went out to buy a hat. When he came back he said he had spoken to someone at the ticket window and learned the waterbus route we should take if we wanted a nice overview of the city. I fully intended to just keep resting, but dang…it DID sound nice. The recommendation was spot on. The line took us out to Lido Island and back at sunset, as the nearly full moon rose – quintessential Venice. I even let the guy I’d been so irritated with in the morning wrap his arms around me as the cool breeze refreshed us and the city showed us her best self.
We ended the evening with a light pizza (God I love Italian pizza, so easy to digest), stopped into a little shop to pick up a Murano glass Christmas ornament (our souvenirs of choice as we travel now, that and street art) and headed for “home”.
See the guys up there on the bellZoom in for the “odometer”Humble DogeLong oil on canvasA little of prison heaven. SIGH…….
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