Eclipses and Fishes

As part of the celebration of our 45th anniversary yesterday we decided to go to the show put on by the ship's remarkable young entertainers. It turned out to be a tribute to the disco music of the seventies, a decade I pretty much missed because of my 24x7 Navy life. I was either at sea, in graduate school, or teaching at the Naval Academy. Also, our four children were born between 1971 and 1977 so that pretty much absorbed any free time we might otherwise have had. I suppose the only concession I ever made to the 70s zeitgeist was a pair of bell-bottoms and a leisure suit. (Yes, the photos have all been burned.) The show, however, was actually pretty good -- a number of talented singers and a troupe of seemingly inexhaustible dancers. Diane and I enjoyed it. 

Later at dinner our maître'd and wait staff surprised us with a special anniversary cake which was surprisingly good. And when we returned to our room our bed was covered with rose petals and one of our room attendants had drawn a rather good caricature of the two of us...in living color! And there, too, on our coffee table was another anniversary cake. I thought it a rather nice conclusion to a wonderful, relaxing day.

Before going to bed we heard that the ship would experience a partial eclipse of the sun from about 7 to 9 a.m. So we rose a bit earlier than usual and made our way topside to deck 11. Some folks had come fully prepared with special darkened viewing cards that enabled them to watch the eclipse without destroying their eyesight. One kind gentleman must have had dozens of these cards and gave one to anyone who asked, including us. As it turned out, the eclipse, although partial, covered about 90% of the sun's surface. And so all of us oohed and aahed as we watched the moon slowly move across the surface of the sun. Here are a few photos, including one taken through a make-shift filter during the eclipse...

While all these astronomical events were taking place, we were also entertained by a seabird, some sort of hawk-like bird of prey that gave us a remarkable demonstration of airborne acrobatics. I had noticed him yesterday when he made a high-speed pass down the length of the ship just a few feet from my balcony, so I suspect he's taken up residence in his own little aerie somewhere high up on the ship. 

And then the entertainment shifted to the ocean's surface as we watched many tiny flying fish leave the water and skim over its surface for quite a long distance. We see them often when they break the surface to escape the bulk of the ship as it disturbs their habitat. You can barely make out three of them in the following photo. They're the three white specks in a line from upper left to lower right.

As you can tell, I am easily entertained...

Take a moment today to thank God for His creation.

Captain and Crew

Off hand I don't know the size of the crew of this ship. I've seen the figure somewhere but I simply can't recall it. But according to the little pocket map of the ship given to us when we boarded, the ship can accommodate 2,170 guests. It takes a significant number of people to keep all these guests happy and fed and exercised and entertained and safe and moving along from one destination to the next. And despite the long hours and hard work demanded by most of their jobs, all of the crew members we encounter seem to enjoy their work. They are invariably friendly, helpful and focused on pleasing us, the guests. A lot of businesses could learn much about customer satisfaction from some of these cruise lines.

Our captain is Greek, a nice enough fellow who seems a bit shy. He gives us a brief update over the ship's public address system each day at 10 a.m. and occasionally walks through the public spaces, greeting passengers and asking if we're pleased with everything or have any complaints. Today he informed us that we are just about half-way to Nassau, having covered over 1,700 miles since leaving Lisbon. The seas remain relatively calm and the skies clear with only a few fair-weather cumulus clouds. 

Of course, the crew members with whom we have the most contact are our two cabin attendants and the wait staff in our little Aqua Class restaurant. Marcelino (from Goa, India) and Edy (from Indonesia) take care of our cabin, doing all those big and little things that make life aboard ship comfortable. They are real treasures, pleasant young men who go out of their way to keep us happy, although Diane and I are not particularly demanding. I trust we have made their jobs a bit easier.

The wait staff in our restaurant form an eclectic  group, from Serbia, Jamaica, Zimbabwe, India, Nicaragua, Argentina and a half-dozen other countries. They're all wonderful. In no time they have learned our likes and dislikes and recommend menu selections accordingly. A few of them seem to know what I'll like before I've even thought about it. And Maria keeps my coffee cup full at breakfast. For what more could I ask?

Naturally, the cruise line is in business to make money, so I suppose happy guests cruise again and again. And although I have no financial data on this company, I can't help but believe they're doing very well. They have certainly found many creative ways to separate their guests from their money. Casinos, bars, specialty restaurants, spas, shops, port excursions, wines -- all of these things are "extras" and all generate a lot of cash. I'm very fortunate not to be an alcoholic gambler who likes massages, exotic foods, and Swiss watches.

I'm back on our little balcony, but it's almost time for lunch which today will be only a simple plate of fruit. I must get back on the diet and exercise regimen that allowed me to lose 20 pounds in the three months prior to our leaving home. I suspect I've gained half of it back thanks to pub food, good British ale, and a ship that feeds me constantly.

Blessings...

45 Years

Today, November 2, is our 45th anniversary. Dear Diane and I were married on this day in 1968 in the base chapel at Naval Air Station Pensacola. Since then we have brought four wonderful children into the world, who in turn have blessed us with nine perfect grandchildren. During those 45 years we have moved from one home to another, first to Chula Vista, California, then north to Monterey, across the country to Annapolis, Maryland,  back to California, this time to Bonita, then all the way to Harwich Port on Cape Cod where we lived for 25 years, and finally, ten years ago, to our retirement home in The Villages, Florida. It's been a wonderful adventure, this life together. May it continue for at least a few more years.

Dear Diane sleeps alongside me as I quietly tap away on the iPad. With all the time changes crossing the Atlantic, I've been waking up earlier each morning. Today it was 4:45. It's a bit like switching from daylight savings time to standard time on five or six consecutive days. These changes don't seem to bother Diane so very much though. She is able to sleep through all the resettings of the clocks and only occasionally awakens to ask me the time. I usually have no idea since my iPad, iPhone and watch all display different times. Perhaps they will all magically synchronize by the time we reach Florida.

Once again we have a lovely, calm day at sea. After showering and dressing I moved out to our little balcony to enjoy the sea air. Each day is warmer than the last and even now, at this early time of day, I am comfortable in shorts and polo shirt. This is just about the most relaxing activity (if I may call it that) in which one can engage. I can see why zillionaires own big yachts. It ain't a bad way to spend one's leisure time. Of course, had I such wealth I could never live that way. I feel guilty enough just sitting here undeservedly on my little balcony. 

Time now for an early breakfast. Later I hope to find one of those quiet spots topside where I can read in peace while I bask in the warmth of the Atlantic sun. If not, there's always this wonderful little balcony. 

We have nothing over-the-top special planned for the day. I believe Dear Diane and I decided to keep it low-key and simply relax in each other's presence. Of course, I might well be wrong. Even after 45 years of wedded bliss, I am often very, very wrong.

More later...maybe.

A Sea of Humility

Friday, 1 November 2013
Today we are again blessed with calm seas and a sun that has warmed us and our immediate world to the point where Dear Diane and I can sit comfortably on our cozy balcony up here on deck 9 on the port side of the Celebrity Infinity -- a balmy day indeed.

"Infinity" -- an odd but interesting name for a ship, one that the cruise line likely chose because of its connotation. As ships go, ours is certainly not the largest, but neither is it small. And yet that's exactly why its name seems so very odd, because in relation to its environment it becomes almost infinitely tiny. But I doubt this was on the mind of the one who gave it its name. As I sit here on the edge of this ship, looking out over the expanse of the Atlantic, I feel so very small.

The old seagoing habits die hard and instinctively my eyes scan the horizon, searching for signs of others, for the superstructures that first appear over the edge of that fine line marking the division of sea and sky. Late yesterday I spotted another ship, a tanker steaming eastward. At first only a bump along that line, a mere speck, it eventually came within a half-dozen miles of us as it passed by heading probably for the Mediterranean. Like our own vessel, it too was a large ship, but before long it had been swallowed by the curve of the earth and simply disappeared. Infinity indeed! Only sea and sky can claim such a name; certainly not a ship made by such finite creatures as men. Perhaps, though, our nameless namer had that in mind. Perhaps he too had spent such moments and had christened this vessel as a tribute to the seas on which it would sail. Perhaps...but not very likely in a world in which such humble thoughts are rare indeed.

My life, however, has been littered with humbling experiences. Being in the presence of another possessed of remarkable talent can certainly be humbling. So too are those moments when my foolish mistakes are brought into the open for all to see. But true humility is more likely experienced alone, during those rare moments when I encounter myself as I actually am.

Years ago, as a young naval officer aboard a U. S. Navy ship in the South Pacific, I took advantage of a Sunday "swim call", an opportunity to take a dip in the ocean. It was a hot day, the sea was truly glassy, as calm as one ever sees it, and a swim seemed a nice way to cool off. So I donned my swimsuit, joined several dozen others, and jumped into the sea which was nearly as warm as the air. The depth of the water at this particular mid-ocean spot could more easily be measured in miles than in feet or fathoms. It was very deep.

At one point, after swimming about for a while, I ducked my head under water and looked down into the depths. There in the South Pacific, not far from the equator, the noonday sun was almost directly overhead and the resulting visual effect was so striking I couldn't turn away but stared down transfixed by the awesome sight. My bare legs dangled in the center of a funnel of light, a brilliant sunlit vortex that pierced the darkness and stretched seemingly forever into the depths of the ocean. Those legs of mine looked tiny indeed, as if they had been pasted, paper doll-like, onto the almost surreal scene that world, sea and sun had presented to me. It was a fearful scene, one that said, "Do you see how small you are? Do you grasp how great is God's creation? Do you see these depths, these darknesses that will forever remain hidden from you? Can you accept your relationship with Me, the I Am that brought you into existence so you can share in mine?"

These questions and more forced their way into my thoughts during that brief moment of revelation. Eventually I raised my head to the surface and gasped for air, confused and awed by what I had encountered there in the sea. I had been humbled by the sea, by the world, by creation, by my Creator. I was truly afraid, not physically afraid, but terrified by what I had learned about myself. Hoping to escape, I swam to the ship and quickly climbed out of the water, but then realized there was no escape. Even aboard a warship, one is dwarfed by the sea, where the expanse of creation is most evident.

How can one be at sea and not be humbled by the experience? Yes, we have climbed into space aboard rockets and have seen the world small, but once we return, when we once again take our proper place on the planet we've been given, we are forced to accept the truth of our relationship with the earth. It is a vast and varied home, this gift to humanity, and our lifetimes are far too short to see it all, to understand it all, to grasp the changes that both nature and human history have wrought. Indeed, it is only at sea where these changes disappear. For today I look out on an ocean that is no different from that which confronted a Phonecian sailor three millennia ago. Humanity may alter the landscape in a thousand ways that hide its past, but the sea is virtually changeless, and it is here that I feel most closely connected with my ancestors...and my descendants.

In a sense this is an antidote to our physical mortality, to that which seems so unjust about life. We all wish we could continue. We wish we could see the world as it was a century ago or as it will be two centuries hence. But we know it cannot be. We are mortal. We must die. And yet, we need only look out over the sea, confident that what we see now will be seen by those who come long after us, just as it was seen by those a thousand years ago.
God's peace...

(Just a note: I took the above photo as we departed Lisbon.)

All Sorts of Ports

We left the tidy English port of Harwich on Thursday, entered the North Sea, and spent Friday steaming south toward the coast of France. I actually prefer these days at sea -- likely a legacy of all those years in the Navy -- when I can simply relax, read, and watch the ocean slide slowly past our little balcony high up here on deck 9. The seas were actually a bit higher than usual that first day and night, and the rather large swell resulted in a nice heavy roll that seemed to take most of the passengers by surprise. I was proud of Dear Diane who dealt with the rockin' and rollin' like an old salt. 

That first afternoon, looking for a quiet spot to read, I decided the ship's library was probably the best choice. I couldn't have been more wrong. The library is tiny, perhaps twice the size of our rather compact stateroom, and can seat maybe a dozen people...if they're especially friendly. That, in itself, would be no problem since there were only a few of us trying to read. I say "trying to read" because this tiny library also hosts two desks, the ship's concierge and the Captains Club, and both attract a steady stream of passengers seeking information, not to mention constant phone calls. Consequently it's probably one of noisiest rooms on the ship. As it turned out, the quietest spot I found was a deck 10 poolside area reserved for smokers. The smokers were far quieter than the folks in the library and the smoke just swirled harmlessly upward into the ocean air. I sat there happily reading Ian Ker's biography of G. K. Chesterton for two wonderful hours.

We have met many interesting people in just our first few days aboard the ship. Most of these new acquaintances form during meal times when we spend an hour or two sitting alongside another couple and invariably discover common interests and unexpected coincidences. On Friday evening, for example, we broke bread with a couple who share a close friendship with a woman from the Cape Cod town in which we lived for 25 years, a woman whom Diane and I both knew. On Saturday we joined another couple, also new acquaintances, for dinner. New Yorkers who moved to Florida 30 years ago, they have a married daughter who lives in London. They were intrigued by our stays at the Chawton cottage and the London flat and wanted to hear the details. We dined again with this couple on Wednesday evening.

On Saturday morning we awoke to find the ship already tied up at the pier in La Rochelle, France. The working port facilities at La Rochelle are a few miles from the old city and its far more ancient port, and like most port facilities are functional and not particularly scenic. But pure functionality is usually on the ugly side, so that was no big surprise. After breakfast, Diane and I hopped on the shuttle bus provided by the cruise line and soon found ourselves at the historic center of the city where we admired the old compact port guarded by it's three medieval towers. After a quick stroll through an outdoor antique market set up in a nearby square, we walked without real purpose through the center of the old town. Our first stop was the nearby church of Saint Sauveur, a church that apparently serves the maritime community of seamen and fishermen and their families. We then window-shopped along a pedestrian-only street and made our way to the Cathedral of St. Louis and it's large square, the Place de Verdun. 

It was a lovely, warm day so we joined the locals and spent some time in an outdoor marketplace filled with displays of pumpkins and gourds and other produce. Eventually we came upon a large inner-city park and after strolling along its winding paths for some time, Diane and I pulled out our tiny tourist map and concluded that we were most assuredly lost. We must have looked lost because a lovely lady approached us and asked if we needed directions. Who says the French are a bunch of grumpy xenophobes? Anyhow, thanks to her kindness we made it back to the port, stopped for an espresso (me) and cappichino (Diane), and after snapping a few dozen more photos, boarded the shuttle bus that returned us to the ship. Some scenes from our wanderings around La Rochelle...

As you can tell from the above description of our visit to La Rochelle, if one wants to get to know a city or country, a cruise ship is probably the worst vehicle for doing so. On a good day one might have six or seven hours to breeze through a port city, see a few of the more obvious or important sights, buy a couple of souvenirs, grab a bite to eat, and return to the ship. If you're fortunate you might chat with one or two locals for a few moments, but at best you will gain no more than the slightest appreciation of the city and it's people. 

Of course, instead of wandering around aimlessly as we did, one can purchase a seat on a cruise-line sponsored "excursion." These are really just basic tours run by local companies. Some are quite good, some are horrible, but all are over-priced because too many folks have their fingers in the till. One morning at breakfast I overheard a man describing an excursion from La Rochelle to the Cognac region: "We spent an hour and forty minutes on a bus, arrived at Cognac, our destination, were given a tiny shot glass half-filled with brandy, had a mediocre lunch, and were then put on the bus for the return trip." For this he paid $199 per person. 

Although Diane and I chose not to take any of the excursions at La Rochelle, we did select one of the less expensive tours in each of the next three ports: Gijon, Spain; Vigo, Spain; and Lisbon, Portugal. Each of these excursions was better than most of the tours we've taken in the past, but Monday's excursion at Vigo was the best by far. The tour involved an hour-long bus trip to the famous pilgrimage site, the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. How wonderful it was to visit this remarkable cathedral, to pray before the tomb of the Apostle James, and to see the joy on the faces of the exhausted pilgrims who have made the long journey on foot across northern Spain. Our guide, a young woman named Helena, was knowledgable, pleasant and obviously enjoyed her work. We were able to spend several hours visiting the cathedral and the city before returning to Vigo on the bus. It was a lovely day. I've included some photos below...

The previous day, after our arrival in Gijon, in the province of Asturias, we climbed aboard a bus and joined the tour to Oviedo. This tour was a bit of a disappointment because we were unable to enter several of the Romanesque and gothic churches we visited. We did, however, enjoy our long ramble through an extensive marketplace that filled a number of local streets and in which one could buy virtually everything from antiques to underwear. Some scenes from our visit...

Yesterday, Tuesday, the ship arrived at Lisbon. The city's magnificent harbor, one of God's great gifts to this small yet strategically located nation, does much to explain the influence of the sea on the history of Portugal. Possessed of a harbor like Lisbon, located just "around the corner" from the Mediterranean, the Portuguese had no choice to be anything but a seagoing people. One glance at the map of Portugal shows how Lisbon's harbor dominates the nation's Atlantic coastline, a coastline that forms a maritime highway for shipping moving in and out of the Mediterranean Sea, to and from the ports of Northern Europe. It's no wonder that, despite the cultural chasm created by religious differences, England formed an effective and long-lasting alliance with Portugal that gave it access to Lisbon's perfectly formed harbor in the estuary of the Tagus. Here's our ship docked at Lisbon...

Diane and I decided to take the "Walking Tour of Lisbon" which was led by Katerina, a delightful young woman who shared her knowledge and enthusiasm for all things Portuguese with us. One senses that the Portuguese are a more devout people than the people of Spain, although this observation of mine is based on a rather small and not so random sample: about a week in Barcelona a few years ago and three brief port visits this week. The Spaniards we encountered seem to be no more than "cultural" Catholics while the Portuguese seem to live their faith more deeply. I could of course be very wrong. It's happened before.

Here's a photo taken inside the beautiful church of St. Roque, followed by a few of other Lisbon scenes...

I was particularly impressed with the unique architecture of Lisbon, an architecture that seems to reflect its close association with the sea, a kind of sinuous, rope-like architecture present in some of its structures. The exterior walls of many buildings are covered with colorful tiles, another unique aspect of Lisbon's architecture. Viewing them from a distance I was captivated by the whole, by the intricate and colorful look of these buildings. And yet, I felt drawn to them. I wanted to approach them and examine the individual tiles up close. The following are a few photos of buildings and their tiles...

Diane and I stopped by a shop that specialized in the crafts of Portugal. Half of the shop was devoted to products made in the north of the country and half to products from the south. We bought a colorful wine pitcher (from the south) to complement those we had purchased on previous trips to Italy and Spain. I also bought a bottle of 10-year-old Port since it would be sacrilegious not to buy Port when in Portugal. As a result of this first, very brief visit, I believe I'd like to return and spend more time in this fascinating country.

Leaving Lisbon we entered the Atlantic and began our seven-day voyage across the ocean to Nassau in the Bahamas, and then on to Miami. Oddly enough, this is the part of the cruise I will enjoy the most. For me it is a time of relaxation and restoration. I will enjoy every minute as I work my way through the stack of books piled up on our coffee table. And I simply enjoy being at sea. Although we are now hundreds of miles west of Lisbon, the open sea here in the mid-Atlantic is almost glassy, with only a hint of a low swell. We can only hope that the weather remains pleasant as we make our way home. 

Here's a photo I just took with my trusty iPad -- from my chair in a deck 11 lounge overlooking the ship's bow. Note the calmness of the sea today.

I just heard that the Red Sox won the World Series. Several of my children, avid Sox fans, will be happy. And so I, too, am happy.

Blessings...

Sail Ho! Email No!

Wednesday, 23 October.

Tomorrow we depart for home on a two-week sea voyage. At about 10 a.m. we'll grab a taxi and make our way to London's Victoria Station where a motor coach will carry us and our huge pile of luggage to the port city of Harwich and the ship that awaits us. The Celebrity Infinity will carry us to Miami after a few stops on the continent -- one in France, two in Spain, and another in Portugal. We also visit Nassau before finally arriving back home. 

When it comes to cruises, my favorite activity is sitting on our balcony or in some other comfortable, relatively quiet spot on the ship and reading a good book. Every so often one of the crew stops by and asks if I'd like a drink. It's all very civilized, and extremely relaxing...just what I need after our busy two weeks in England. Dear Diane likes the shows aboard ship, so I'll no doubt attend many of these. And of course there's the food, the tempting food that I intend to sample only in reasonable amounts. I lost 20 pounds in the three months before our trip and I would hate to gain it all back again. 

Because cruise ships charge ridiculous amounts for only minutes of WiFi internet access, I will probably not post anything until we return. My small, but select group of readers will no doubt appreciate this and turn their attention to something more rewarding. Anyway, shipboard posts would likely be pretty boring and redundant...I ate, I read, I went to the show with Diane.

More exciting was what Dear Diane and I did today. We first walked down to the Parliament buildings via Trafalgar Square, Downing Street, and all the government buildings along Whitehall. The security at the Prime Minister's place -- 10 Downing Street -- was rather impressive. Here's a photo of the two of us outside the PM's digs...

Indeed London's finest were out in force today, presumably because of the scheduled baptism of little George, the royal baby. Inexplicably Diane and I didn't receive the expected invitation, which no doubt had trouble finding us in the midst of all our travels. We'll have to send William and Kate a little something for the little one.

Assisted by a helpful bobby, we managed to find Westminster Pier and used our London Passes to board a tour boat for the trip along the Thames to the Tower Pier. The trip, just about 20 minutes long, was enhanced by a young crewman who gave constant commentary describing all that we passed en route. And by the time we arrived the sun appeared for good, and we were given a truly marvelous day, sunny and quite warm. I've added below a few photos taken from the tour boat.

We arrived at Tower Pier and immediately entered the Tower of London grounds. We joined the crowd following one of the Yeoman Warders and listened to his descriptions of kings, queens, saints, sinners, executions, escapes, and tortures, all woven into wonderful stories of the Tower's infamous past. Here's the man himself, like all his colleagues a retired Sergeant Major... 

We then checked out the Crown Jewels, a rather ostentatious collection of diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds and gold...lots and lots of gold. I'd seen them back in 1985 but had forgotten how impressive they actually are. The building is guarded by this young man:

We strolled through the Tower grounds for a while enjoying the sights before taking the boat farther down the Thames to Greenwich. Below you can see two views of the oldest building, the White Tower, built by William the Conqueror himself back in the 11th century.

At Greenwich we first stopped for lunch at a pub called The Gypsy Moth. I couldn't resist the name since it was also the name of Sir Francis Chichester's sailboat when he made the first solo around-the-world trip back in the 60s. The food was quite good too, and for a change of pace I had another typical English pub dish, bangers and mash, while Diane had the soup. Good stuff! Oh, yes, and pretty waitresses.

After lunch we made our way, a long way that is all uphill, to the Royal Observatory. The view of London from this height is spectacular, especially on a day like today. We also did the expected thing and straddled the prime meridian with a leg in each hemisphere. Photos below, including one of the rigging of the Cutty Sark, the famous British clipper ship...

Back aboard our tour boat, we returned to Tower Pier and made our way to Fleet Street where we found the well-hidden house of Dr. Samuel Johnson, another of my heroes. Sadly we arrived just as they were closing for the day and were unable to tour the house -- a major disappointment for me...so we stopped by the gift shop where I bought another book. We walked a few yards to Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, one of London's oldest pubs and a place frequented not only by Dr. Johnson in the 18th century, but also by Charles Dickens and Mark Twain in the 19th century, and by the great G. K. Chesterton in the early 20th century. I stopped in and had a pint. I could do no less. Photos follow: Johnson's house, the pub...

Finally we walked back to our flat via Foyle's Books, perhaps London's largest and best bookstore. On the way we passed the Aldwych Theatre where we had seen Top Hat yesterday and I took another photo.

Quite a day...and now time to pack and relax a bit. Oh, yes, one more little glitch. We returned to the flat but were unable to open the inside door to the apartment. We called Julian, our young Brazilian manager, who took the tube to help us. He arrived an hour later while we sat in the corridor outside our door reading books. Using a master key he let us in and still could not understand why our key suddenly stopped working. Ah, well, we really didn't mind too much. We are, after all retired with time on our hands.

God's peace.