Nurturing…It’s an art form…A year ago…Sagrada Familia, Barcelona, Spain…

These new photos posted yesterday, today, and tomorrow are from Wednesday’s unsuccessful search for insect repellent. When posting repeated photos, we always mention that they’re repeated. It isn’t often we are able to take a photo of a horse and buggy when many of the owners request money for photos.  We never pay for photos, other than for entrance into specific sightseeing venues.

Nurturing. It’s what we do for those we love. If they’ll accept it. When they’re sick or upset. Lost or unsure. We attempt it. If they refuse, we try again, hoping the end result will be different after the same behavior. Which isn’t usually how life works.

In the case of nurturing, a persistent caregiver will eventually win as will the recipient of the care who eventually sighs in grateful resignation allowing us to offer that loving helping hand. And suddenly, we get to work in an almost enthusiastic frenzy to be of assistance, dashing to and fro in endless tasks to reap the fruits of our good intentions: That the recipient is feeling better.

The Big Square was less busy with tourists than usual.

Without question, I am a nurturer. Can’t help it. As many of you read this, you see yourself. It’s sad when a loved one is ill. We’re anxious to help them get better.

The secret to being a good nurturer is not to hover. After the imminent tasks are completed it is imperative to sit back quietly busying oneself in other tasks evident to the recipient. Thus, the recipient becomes open to asking for more assistance as needed or as gently offered on obvious occasions.

It was odd to see less activities and vendors in the Big Square.

This is Tom and I when he is sick. More worried about my well being than his own. I’m not sick. Yet, anyway.  How many days does it take for the nurturer to catch the illness? Not sure. I tried to look it up online but the answers were vague.

Tom must be quite ill in order to allow me to nurture. He has his own nurturing tendencies but often lacks the skills to exercise them with ease, not unusual in the male populations.

A hotel in the Big Square.

Yesterday, the challenge was clear. His frequent rounds of snorting, wheezing, coughing as well as persistent sniffing pushed my irritation buttons. At times, I thought, ‘If that was me, I’d go hide away in the bedroom rather than subject him to such obvious suffering.” But then again, I’m kind of shy about gross bodily sounds.

Rather than comment about the constant noises, gently I provided fluids, aspirin, antihistamines and tender loving care, remaining across the room of course, at his beacon call. Careful to avoid touching him or his stuff, he held out his open mug for me to pour in the beverages and ice. I dropped the pills into his open hand. Again, I slept alone, finally getting a good night’s sleep with no new no-see-um bites. A miracle, indeed.

Vendors of discounted clothing often place their stock on a blanket on the ground, hoping takers will stop by for further negotiations.

However, nurturing wasn’t reserved exclusively for me. Midday, Madame Zahra, after a little concerned hovering of her own, grabbed a fluffy down comforter, a sheet, and pillows and made up a bed for him on the sofa in the far end of the salon.  He was far enough from me to avoid the spray of his fits of coughing and sneezing, close enough to know when I was needed.

When Madame and Oumaima arrived in the morning the language barrier presented an issue when I tried to describe that Tom was sick and slept in the yellow room. With flying hand signals coupled with my choppy French, I was able to explain that they shouldn’t clean the yellow room for several days to avoid getting sick themselves. Somehow they understood appreciating my efforts to explain. We appreciate them. More than we can say.

Tee shirts and women’s tops hanging in a shop in a souk.

Madame made us a perfect dinner, as always. We chose to eat at 5:30 instead of 6:30. We both needed to eat, after 24 hours without a morsel, not an uncommon occurrence without access to cooking our own meals.

Oh, I know protests are rampant at this mention about not eating more often. We only eat when we’re hungry. Period. It’s called, “Intermittent Fasting” which we’ve been doing since the beginning of our travels, except when cruising when we eat breakfast and dinner. Eating this way is not appropriate for everyone. It works for us. 

Stickers and signs for sale.

Email me if you’d like the names of reputable books quoting numerous studies of the benefits of eating less often, eating only when the body signals. If we’re hungry, we eat more often. The cavewoman/caveman didn’t have a fully stocked refrigerator of goodies. The human race was perpetuated. See, it all worked out. 

In any case, Tom appears to be feeling a little better today. He changed his shirt. He’s sitting up listening to his radio show from Minnesota, Garage Logic.

Perhaps, in one more day we’ll be able to go out again. I’m getting “riad” fever.
                                                ____________________________________

Photo from one year ago today, May 2, 2013:

A year ago today, we spent the day in Barcelona. Our first sight to see was the Sagrada Familia, the church that remains unfinished although the construction continues after over 100 years for which Antonio Gaudi is credited.

Drinking alcohol in Morocco…Not readily available in Islamic countries…

Baskets of spices outside a spice shop in the souk.

Tom is not a big drinker. On occasion, if readily available, he may enjoy a couple of bottles of beer or a few of his favorite cocktails. When planning to live in Morocco, he had little concern when we discovered that buying a bottle of his favorite Courvoisier, which he mixes with Sprite Zero over ice, was not an easy purchase in this non-drinking Muslim country.

He dismissed the concept of drinking for the two and a half months without giving it a thought. Out of curiosity, we checked prices of his brand at the grocery store at a cost of US $60, MAD 486 for the VS, not VSOP, for a smaller bottle than he usually purchases. He said, “Nah, it’s just not worth it.” 

Leather sandals are a common offering in the souks.

Yes, he’s quite frugal when it comes to himself but never when it comes to me. Then again, my wants and needs are minimal these days so I have followed suit in frugality for myself as well. (Over the past few weeks, I’ve been using a Q-tip in order to get the last remnants out of a favorite tube of lipstick. Perhaps, the difficulty in replacing it is more the intent than the frugality).

Instead of buying a bottle, I suggested he have a few drinks when we dine out. The restaurants we frequent offer beer, wine, and his favorite cocktail. But, the other problem in ordering cocktails in restaurants is the ice.  All of them use tap water when making ice. With the risk of intestinal distress, the only ice we use is that which we make in our riad using bottled water to fill the tiny trays in the household’s tiny freezer. 

Tourists are often attracted to the varied choices of leather handbags.

The average cost of his cocktail in the restaurants with the Sprite Zero is US $14.17, MAD 115. If he were to have only two cocktails without ice, which he doesn’t care for, the cost at almost US $30, MAD 243 is ridiculous, costing as much as our food, which in itself in not a bargain in Marrakech. 

Beer, a good second choice, is an average of US $7.00, MAD 57, again in a smaller bottle. He decided to forgo beer as well. Why bother? He feels it’s just not worth it. For me, it’s not an issue. I don’t drink alcohol, although at times I do wish I could, especially red wine. But my health supersedes my desire to drink, a decision I made many years ago.

Carry on leather bags also appeal to the tourist trade.

All said and done, Tom has ordered one cocktail without ice and one beer on two separate occasions when we’ve dined out in Marrakech, never to order again.

Another situation where we find cocktail prices outrageous is while cruising. The cost of drinks and beer is comparable to Morocco prices and then again, Tom cringes. Cruises offer drink packages usually around US $59, MAD 478 per person per day plus 15% gratuity. 

This clump fell onto the floor of the riad overnight.  With spring in the air and all the birds flying in the house, we assumed it may be the makings of a bird’s nest.

When we did the math for these cruise packages, there was no way buying one made sense for Tom. He only has a few cocktails at dinner when we’re gathered around a sharing table or dining on our own. He never drinks alcohol during the day so he’d have to drink six cocktails at dinner to break even, seven to be ahead. Forcing oneself to drink to justify the “package” hardly makes sense to us. There are non-alcoholic beverage packages that make no sense for me. I don’t drink sugary beverages, juice, or soda.

In a mere 17 days, we’ll be in Madeira, grocery shopping the next day with our late arrival. With enthusiasm, we anticipate purchasing all the foods, snacks, and beverages that we desire. Perhaps, at “happy hour,” we’ll lounge on the veranda overlooking the ocean and once again, feel like we’re “home,” wherever that may be. 
                                              ______________________________________

Photo from one year ago today, April 28, 2013:

The view of the island of Madeira where we’ll arrive in only 17 days, flying from Marrakech. Our ship docked in Madeira for one day a year ago today, enabling us to visit with Gina, the owner of the house, and to see our future home in person. We couldn’t have been more pleased. The house is away from this busy port town of Funchal. For details of that date with more photos, please click here.

Why? Mind or body? Home and heart…

Yesterday as we walked the souks deciding where to dine, these varying rooflines of a courtyard caught my eye.

I’ve been awake since 5:00 am after Mr. Rooster began his crowing for the day which continues until sundown.  Without the option of puttering around the kitchen, I stay in bed, reading my mindless but entertaining activities on my phone.

At 7:00 am, Tom started laughing in his sleep.  Who laughs aloud in their sleep?  Only Tom, my personal Good Humor Man.  Quietly, I whisper, “What’s so funny?”

Through more fits of laughter, he mutters in a groggy voice “I was sleeping and laughing?”  We both laughed.  He proceeds to tell me about his funny dream, about his former job of 42 years on the railroad and the laughing that was a part of his everyday. 


We’re curious what lies behind the many doors in the Medina.  Are tourists occupying this riad or locals?

As we lay there, in idle chatter, the call to prayer and the rooster’s crow wafts through the air simultaneously and we laugh some more. 

As the high from the laughter runs through me, rampant thoughts run through my mind as I finally get up ready to start my day, Tom following behind.  I ask myself, “What am we doing in Morocco?  Why are we so comfortable being nomads traveling from country to country?  Why does it not bother either of us that we haven’t seen a doctor or a dentist in almost over 16 months with nary a concern or worry?”

The answer is not simple.  It doesn’t necessarily go back to the days when we decided to embark on this year’s long journey as we acquired a newly discovered adventuresome streak perhaps meant to defray our fears of aging and becoming complacent.


There are endless styles of roof lines throughout the Medina.

Our reasons have evolved from a desire to “step outside the box” to those more meaningful in our minds; a profound desire to challenge ourselves, to experience life on our terms, and to feel “free.” 

In reality, don’t we all spend the better part of our lives performing tasks and conforming to a strict code of expectation with the ultimate intent of providing ourselves with comfort, security and a sense of well being?  Our lives are no different.


This kitten was tiny, no more than 60 days old, on its own to search for food and shelter.

The thought of avoiding the responsibility of placing the green trash can in the correct spot in the driveway each week to comply with yet another “rule” motivated us. Avoiding the necessity of blowing the snow to clear the driveway late at night after a long workday motivated us.  The avoidance of weekends and vacation days spent at Home Depot with yet another project in mind, motivated us.  For us, there was no joy in these tasks.

But, there was joy in the laughter, the companionship, the sense of exploration, the discoveries in new surroundings, the meeting new people, the learning and the stimulating our brains in a way that we’d dismissed long ago as mainly for the young. 


After hundreds of years of wear and tear, the stones crumble in certain areas, leaving an open spot for trash,  Overall, the souks are very clean.

Our bodies continue to age as an inevitable aspect to life itself as we occasionally grumble to one another about a newly discovered wrinkle or dark spot that magically appeared overnight.  But, our brains bespeak the delights of the young, full of wonder, excitement and adventure, none of which we foolishly embarked upon placing our aging bodies at risk, ensuring that we may be able to continue on.

It’s ironic that both of us were in the same state of mind to be primed for this life we live and yet, we’d never once discussed “traveling the world” in our old lives.  It only became a mutual “dream” the day we decided to do it. 

The consistent shades of pink and orange are seen throughout the Medina and souks.

At times its not easy but then again, we never expected easy. In an odd way we feel that we’ve only just begun, as we dream and plan into the future with the excitement and enthusiasm of a child on their way to Disneyland. 

“Home is where the heart is.”  Corny?  Sure.  But its true.  For now and for three more weeks from today, our home is in Morocco and our hearts…are firmly in place.

______________________________________

Photo from one year ago today, April 24, 2013:

Little did we know as we stood on our veranda, the degree of the impending storm we were
about to enter as we crossed the Atlantic Ocean.  For details of the story on this date, please click here.

Personal discovery…Impacts our future travels…More on the storm at sea…From one year ago at the end of today’s post…

Oh, please, would that I could partake of this scrumptious colorful confection?  Alas, a quick peek is all that’s in the cards for me. Tom said, “Red dye # whatever!  No loss!”  Food safety regulations so familiar to many of us from our home countries may be non-existent in some countries.

With 22 days left until we depart Morocco for the exquisite island of Madeira, Portugal, our activity level in Morocco has leveled off. We’ve settled into a comfortable routine with the acceptance that overly exciting experiences are not necessarily on the horizon over these remaining days.

Personal discovery becomes the adventure of the day as opposed to that of sightseeing. An important discovery, we’ve made this past almost eight weeks while living in Morocco, one that we suspected we each possessed, is that we are not “big city” people with crowds, honking horns, noise, and traffic.

These beautiful fresh roses were on a side table as we exited the restaurant.

In our old lives, we lived in a sleepy lake town definitely befitting our way of life.
A trip to the grocery store resulted in a friendly conversation with familiar faces, animated, and pleased to engage.

We had the blissful experience of this same type of familiarity while recently living in South Africa. Our expectations are high after those three months, a situation we may seldom encounter to that degree as we continue on.

There are newer areas in the souk that have been built or renovated as tourism in Marrakech increased in the past decades.

With several big cities looming in our near future with short stints in each location, we expect those visits to revolve around sightseeing which we anticipate with enthusiasm. After all, Paris and London for two weeks each? What’s not to love?

However, through personal discovery, we come to realize that we embrace culture when we have an opportunity to interact with the local people and their customs, which hasn’t been easy to do in this hustle and bustle tourist destination of Marrakech, Morocco. 

The momentum of the crowds in the souk leaves little opportunity for stopping for photos.

Most of the locals, hard working people, are entrenched in providing products and services to the tourist trade, which constitutes their livelihood, leaving no interest or time to interact with short term residents such as ourselves.

As we continue our search for the ongoing years of travel beyond May 15, 2015, we’ve learned a simple fact; that living in an area where we have an opportunity to meet locals and expats, is an integral part of the experience. 

Ceramic hand jeweled containers. We don’t ask for prices or we’d never get away with the shop owners determined to make a sale.

When one thinks of it, “sightseeing,” although pleasant during the process itself, is short-lived. Meeting people and making friends is a lifetime experience, we stay in close contact via email and Facebook with wonderful people we’ve met in our travels, a rich and fulfilling experience.

Of course, we’ll see the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower in Paris and, Buckingham Palace and the Tower of London in London during our upcoming visits. However, most likely, we won’t have an opportunity to make new friends while spending a mere two weeks in each location. We’ve found that most tourists, other than on a cruise, have little time in cultivating friendships while spending a week or two “packing it all in.”

The ancient exterior of buildings in the Medina provides architecturally interesting appeal.

Don’t get me wrong. Tom and I fully entertained ourselves and each other in the remote Boveglio, Italy where not a single English speaking person was to be found within an hour-long drive. And, we were fine in Kenya, where we had little opportunity to meet people when our neighborhood consisted mostly of unoccupied houses, their owners living elsewhere during the heat of summer. When dining out, we only encountered other tourists, busy with their own pursuits.

A reality of both of our personalities is that we are both social butterflies, easily entertained by a lively conversation whether in a large group or small. Both Belize and South Africa provided this beyond our wildest expectations, leaving lifelong friends in their wake. How fortunate we were!

Some shops in the souk offer second-hand merchandise.

Cruising, above all, is the easiest way to meet people when we’re all a captive audience dining at “shared” tables for eight or ten each night of the cruise. One would have to be comatose not to make friends in that environment. This fact, in itself, inspires us to book cruises well into the future, cost providing. (The prices have gone up, up, up).

At this point, we’ll continue to explore the souks and narrow alleys of the Medina with an occasional trip outside by taxi both of which we both thoroughly enjoy. 

This colorful ceramic store had several tourists taking photos so we joined in.

This morning when I came downstairs to the salon where Tom was listening to this favorite radio show, my hot water for tea awaiting me in my insulated mug, I said, “It’s good to see you!” This was an expression I used every time he walked in the door after work in our old lives or when I  greeted our dogs upon returning home.

We grabbed each other’s hands, as we often do when we laugh out loud, which is many times each day, realizing that my expression is a moot point in our 24/7 lifestyle these days. 

Steps leading to a furniture shop in the souk.  Of course, we’d love to enter to take photos. But, most shop owners don’t appreciate photos being taken of their wares.

Our greatest personal discovery throughout all of our travels is that we’ll never tire of each other’s smiling face, even when the location in which we temporarily live offers little in the way of social interaction. 
___________________________________________

Photo from one year ago today, April 23, 2013:

This was the very beginning of the massive storm our ship encountered for three full days after dropping off an ill passenger in Bermuda taking us on a different course, taking us right into the eye of the storm. At first, we were told the waves were 30 feet, 9.14 meters, later to be described by the captain as 50 feet, 15.24 meters swells, an experience we’ll never forget. For details of the beginning of this story, please click here. This story will continue over the next three days at the end of each day’s post.

An unreal story we never told from our time in South Africa….Newspaper story we posted one year ago today…

Still wanting to post photos after our “staying in” weekend, we walked the steep steps to the rooftop for the following shots. That’s our laundry on the clothesline which Madame washes every few days.

We hope all of our Easter observing readers had a wonderful day.  Staying indoors due to the crowds, we enjoyed another excellent Madame Zahra made Moroccan dinner minus the spices. After dinner we watched another good good movie, “The Railway Man,” worth viewing.

Hopefully today, the spring break and Easter weekend crowds will thin out and we’ll head out to the souk and Big Square for a hearty much-needed walk and dinner at one of our few favorite restaurants. We’ve exhausted all our dining options in the Medina serving non-spicy foods that Tom will eat, although I continue to order an occasional spicy tagine.

The newer model washer is located in a closet on the rooftop which we hadn’t noticed until yesterday.

As for the story we never told of a situation that occurred in South Africa, it’s not an uncommon story in certain parts of the world. Why didn’t we tell the story at that time? I suppose, we didn’t feel comfortable sharing anything negative about a country we love in so many ways while we were living there.

As time has passed, we’ve come to realize that it’s important to share this story for other travelers should they encounter similar circumstances along the way. Please understand, the telling of this story in no way diminishes our views of the wonders of South Africa or its people. 

Of the dozens of countries we’ve visited thus far, South Africa will remain in our hearts forever, which we long to visit again someday in our travels. This story is not a reflection of the people of South Africa in general, only a fraction of its society that angers and frustrates its countrymen as it did us. Here we go!

It was a beautiful day yesterday, although so windy that the plants inside the courtyard two floors below were moving in the wind.

It was January 18, 2014.  We were driving a rental car, returning from our delightful three-day stay at the Blyde River Canyon Lodge in the Blyde River area of Limpopo, South Africa. We’d had a glorious three days, but we were equally excited to return to Marloth Park to see the animals and our friends.  What a fabulous feeling, leaving one amazing place to return to an even more amazing place. We were on Cloud 9 to say the least. 

First, we were on our way to the airport in Nelspruit to return the rental car after one month’s use when the rental car company refused to extend our contract for the same rate they had charged for the first month. 

Look at that blue sky!

As a result, we decided, rather than sign up for a similar deal at another rental car company, we’d to have Okee Dokee drive us around for our remaining time in Marloth Park.  She’d captured our hearts and we decided that we’d rather put money in her pocket than a rental car company with its outrageous fees. 

We’d coordinated the trip to Blyde River to coincide with the date we were required to return the rental car. We began the drive down the mountain to make our way to the airport where Okee Dokee would meet us for the 90 minute drive back to Marloth Park. 

The household staff regularly water to plants on the rooftop as well as in the courtyard.

About an hour out of Blyde River Canyon, Tom was moving along the well-paved roads at a good clip, when suddenly a policeman stepped out onto the road signaling us to stop.

What could possibly be wrong? The first thought that entered my mind was the possibility of a customary passport check. Tom thought otherwise, suspicious that we were being stopped at the foot of a long hill where many lowering speed limit signs were posted in rapid succession.

Tom was hanging out with me on the rooftop as I shot these photos.

Tom immediately handed him our passports, waiting to see what he wanted. The cop kept asking, “When is your flight?” The reason for this question, Tom surmised, was to determine how desperate we were, the shorter the time to our flight, the more it was going to “cost us.”

Tom explained we didn’t have to fly anywhere that day and we were staying in South Africa until February 28th. Again, the cop asked, “What time is your flight?” 

Holding the camera over the high wall of the rooftop (over my head) I shot this photo of the sheltered roof of a riad next door.

When again, Tom explained that we had no flight to catch, he cop said we were being “ticketed” for speeding without providing any specifics. He had no ticket book in hand.

He proceed to explain that we’d have to go back to the nearest town to the police station to pay the fine. Still, no ticket was presented. The drive back to that town was 45 minutes each way and there was no way in the world we were going back there. 

A man in his gazebo on the roof of an adjoining house.

Okee Dokee was already on her way from Marloth Park to pick us up at the airport. Even if she hadn’t been, there was still no way we were going to drive an extra 90 minutes, spending what may have proved to been several hours in order to pay an arbitrary fine.

But, we also knew there was no way were we taking the risk of getting into a verbal altercation with the cop which could potentially get us arrested.

The little grill Madame uses when she cooks the grilled chicken on the roof.  We seldom request it since we don’t want her to have to go up there to cook.

Diplomatically, I interjected, “What would it take to avoid us going back to the police station in Hoedspruit?”

The cop paused for only a second, making a feeble attempt to make it appear as if he had no plan in mind, “Four hundred Rand,” he blurts out.

I nudged Tom whispering, “Give him the 400 Rand and let’s get out of here!”

Tom pulled out the bills while I asked facetiously, “Can we have a receipt to prove we’ve paid?”

We also discovered the water storage tanks which are hooked up to the city water supply.  We use bottled water for drinking and brushing our teeth.

The cop grumbled, “No receipt!” 

Tom was furious. It wasn’t the amount of money at US $38.09 that frosted him. It was the fact that it was a bribe. Plain and simple. 

Slowly, he pulled out back onto the road as I watched the cop put the money in his pocket his eye on us  as we drive away, perhaps looking for another “supposed” infraction.

The hot water heater is also located in a closet on the rooftop level.

When we retold this story to our Marloth Park friends, they said we should have negotiated the 400 rand down to 200 rand. But, under the circumstances, being our first “bribery” experience, we’d decided to not push our luck and be done with it. 

With this experience behind us, would we act any differently if this happened again? I don’t think so. The possibility of being arrested in a foreign county is frightening enough. 

We wished we could see over the tall wall.

Was Tom speeding?  Possibly, a small amount over the speed limit as a result of coming down the steep road.  Is that an excuse? Not at all. Were we handed a paper ticket to pay on the spot, we’d have put our tail between our legs and paid, lesson learned. 

None of us know what situations we’ll encounter when traveling outside our home country or at times, in our home country. There are many risks that we both take seriously every time we walk out the door. 

This decorator item is on the wall in the landing of the third floor.

I no longer carry a purse or wallet, keeping only a lipstick in my pocket. Tom secures his wallet with little cash in zipped and hard to reach pockets.  We each have our own credit cards should one of us be ripped off, we’d still have credit cards we can use while others were being replaced.

Each time we head out, we’re on alert for potential situations such as this. We realize and suspect that had Tom not been speeding, we could easily have been stopped anyway when no evidence of speeding was presented to us.

The steps on this brick stairway from the third to the second floor, are uneven with many of them very deep.  It surprises us how Madame Zahra easily navigates them several times each day when I gingerly make my way down.

From that point on we observed similar police “setups” at the foot of every hill, wondering who’d be their next target. Not us. We crawled the rest of the way.

So, there’s our first bribery story. It may not be our last. We carry on with the hope that we can avoid these types of situations in the future. Although, we accept the fact that nothing we can ever do or plan will make us exempt from experiencing situations such as this.

Happy Monday to all. Have a good day!

                                              ______________________________________

Photo from one year ago today, April 21, 2013:

All these prior photos were taken with the inexpensive Samsung camera resulting in less than ideal photos. This was the view overlooking one of the dining areas on the Norwegian Epic a few days before the storm. For details of the story from that date, please click here.

The story we posted one year ago today:

http://www.chanvillager.com/news/world-travelers-living-the-dream/article_8dbde70d-1b61-5488-b13f-7077dc4251b6.html#user-comment-area

Happy Easter to those who observe…Also, the beginning of a memorable saga…

We spotted five stray cats hanging around this motorbike. The lanterns were for sale.

Our last Easter in Minnesota was in 2012. In a way, it feels as if it was many more than two years ago and in other ways, only yesterday. 

As we post here each day, we purposely don’t discuss intimate details of our lives with our children and grandchildren in an effort to respect their privacy. Not doing so, in no way diminishes the love we feel for each and every one of our four adult children, their significant others, and our six grandchildren.

Many have asked, “How could you leave your family?” It wasn’t easy.  

Stray cats seem to be comfortable around all the crowds and activities in the souk.

It was a decision wrought with a modicum of guilt, apprehension, and fear. How could it not be? Guilt for leaving them and apprehension and fear that they’d be angry at us for going away, so far away, unreachable at times.  We understood that as we took this risk.

Tom and I, a blended family, both had children as teenagers. Our lives were not unlike the lives of other parents with grown children and grandchildren, filled with dreams and expectations on all sides, some fulfilled, some perhaps unrealistic.

I retired from my business in December of 2011. All of my life I’d dreamed of writing when I retired. With little fodder for writing, I allowed imaginary characters to run through my mind in hopes of someday writing a work of fiction. 

This cat was black and grown, an interesting combination for a non-calico.

My life of retirement allowed little noteworthy action for a story with our lives so like the comfortable lives of many retirees worldwide. Who’d want to read about our medical appointments, dinners for family and friends, and occasional trips to Costco?

In January 2012, as the New Year began, one morning, Tom broached a topic we’d avoided with his retirement date looming on October 31, 2012, “What do you want to do when I retire?”

I looked at him, as we both sat in our comfy chairs in the family room asking, “What do you want to do?” our typical response to such a question, asking the other the same question. How familiar, eh?

He thought for a moment turning to me and said, “Why don’t we travel the world?” I was shocked. I never imagined this from him. 

My response was simple and expected, “Let me do some research, do a spreadsheet, and see if it’s possible. I’ll have it ready in one week.”

And, I did. And one week later, we decided. On October 31, 2012, ten months later, we left our loved ones with heavy hearts, after selling and disposing of everything we owned, we left Minnesota. Leaving our head-scratching family behind, wondering how long it would be before we gave up and settle down, we left with a sense of excitement and adventure.

Sure, leaving them was hard and angst-ridden. And today, always a special holiday for all of us, we are reminded of how much we’re missing them and will continue to miss daily well into the future.

This black and white cat reminded me of a cat we had when my kids were young that had extra toes on all four feet, an anomaly seen in cats from time to time.

But, somehow, the missing them is a part of our lives that we embrace and accept. My oldest son lived away as an adult and has always been missed. This is not uncommon in today’s world. Many of our retired friends moved to warmer climates away from frosty Minnesota, leaving the family in their wake, to call, to Skype, to write.

Here we are, 18 months later, and feeling we have so much world left to see. The excitement coupled with the knowledge we’ve acquired through experience as we learn more each day has only spurred us on, to continue on.

The fodder? Ah, it’s grand! Although at times, our days are quiet and mundane as over this busy holiday weekend, too crowded in the souks to even venture out, we stay in our comfy riad with our delightful staff eager to make us one more appreciated meal which we’ll savor with gusto. 

No, there won’t be a baked spiral sliced ham, green bean casserole, cheesy potatoes, fruit whippy, fluffy biscuits, and bunny rabbit cake for dessert. Instead, we’ll have plates and plates of vegetables, beef tagine (minus hot spices) with chips (fries), and local bread for Tom. 

We’ll sit at the romantically lit dining room table served by three of the finest household staff in the land, grateful to our family for their acceptance of us living our dream, grateful for each other, grateful for our continuing health, and grateful that we had the courage to step outside the box to experience the “fodder” that makes writing here each day a rare gift indeed.
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Photo from one year ago today, April 20, 2013:

Here is the inside of our cabin on the Norwegian Epic one year ago. This cruise was the beginning of one of the most harrowing and exciting experiences in our lives when this mammoth top-heavy ship was caught in an outrageous storm at sea with 50 foot, 15.3-meter swells lasting non-stop for a full three days and nights. We almost had the ship to ourselves when neither of us was sick while many passengers and crew stayed in their cabins. We wrote here, we dined, we walked around the ship, although not allowed outdoors. More will follow on this storm in the next few days, perhaps with a video depicting the adventure. For details of the day, we boarded the Epic which was several days before the storm, please click here. 

Much to do…Retirement isn’t a free lunch….Photos from dinner in the souk…

A complimentary bowl of spicy olives is served when dining at Arabe restaurant.
There’s never a day that passes that doesn’t require tasks related to our travels. In reality, it’s comparable to a full time job. Fortunately, we don’t mind doing most of the tasks. Although, it’s easy to lie in bed early in the morning thinking about everything that must be handled, we try not to make ourselves crazy or worried with the responsibility of accomplishing them.
The overlook to the shops below from Terrasse des Espices Restaurant.

Let’s face it. There’s no free lunch. We all have many tasks in our daily lives continuing well into retirement, if not until the end of our lives should we be so fortunate to be able to continue to do our own tasks. 

For most of our readers, daily household tasks and maintenance preoccupy a good portion of each day. Add the responsibility of handling medical insurance, medications, health appointments, paying bills, grocery, and other shopping, visiting family and friends who are ill or in nursing homes, and entertaining family and friends, it is exhausting.

Complimentary bread sticks are provided at Arabe restaurant.  The price of cocktails is high in Morocco, as much as US $10 per cocktail. As a result, Tom doesn’t bother to drink any alcohol. With us dining out three or four times per week, him not drinking could easily be saving us over US $100 per week.

Although we have eliminated some of the above items from our “to do” list, since we no longer have a home, we have other tasks to perform that replace them, mostly wrapped around our continuing travels.

In other words, being retired is not being “retired’ from anything other than going to an outside job each day. The perception that many younger still working people may have is that life is free and easy. Ha! It’s hardly the case.

A pigeon we spotted while dining on the rooftop.  Their cooing sounds permeate the air in the riad each day, along with the crowing rooster who crows every 5 or 10 minutes.

Although at times I consider myself in the retired category, I am far from retired. I work half or more of each day with our website, writing, editing, taking photos, and generally being continually aware of the creation of the inspiration for the next story. That’s hardly retired. The fact that I enjoy doing so is incidental.

Add the financial management, record keeping and the daily task of handling of the budget, logging each penny spent, my days are full, leaving a little time for playing Gin with Tom, watching a few shows and of course, getting out to explore.

This is the usual crowd we must maneuver each time we go out to dine, get cash from an ATM, roam around the Big Square, or to exit the Medina in order flag get a taxi. 

This morning I spent an hour placing our few pills into our pill cases. Tom’s case holds two weeks of pills. Mine holds four weeks. The end result is that I have to do pills every two weeks. Now, this should be an easy task. I take a few prescriptions and Tom takes one. Adding the few vitamins and probiotics we have left and it seems that it shouldn’t take so long.

But, as time has moved on, we’ve used all of our US prescriptions and are now into the one year’s supply of the those we’ve purchased from ProgressiveRX, a reputable online pharmacy company. (They don’t take insurance).  Each pill they dispense is individually wrapped in foil requiring a huge amount of time to get each pill out of the right wrapping.

As we dined at Le Jardin, Mr. Turtle stopped by, hanging out for “crumb patrol.” Of course, we complied with his request for vegetable tidbits from our plates as he stared up at us, which he savored with delight, quickly snapping them up. He rested between bites at my feet.

Today, I unwrapped over 100 pills for the six weeks total of pills I placed collectively in the little cases. As I’ve aged, good grief, I’ve noticed my fingers are not as adept as they may have been 40 years ago. Small handiwork is not my forte. 

Also, several years ago I had surgery on my right thumb and it’s basically useless. Try unwrapping those tight little tin foil packs when right-handed and the right thumb doesn’t work. What a time consuming ordeal.

Mr. Turtle and his companion, another male, scour the floor of the restaurant all day, as customers come and go. The staff feeds them their usual diet of fresh greens but they particularly seem to like the cooked vegetables from our plates.

After performing this task this morning, I thought, “Why don’t I unwrap them all and put them in the plastic bottles I saved from the old pills?”  Simple reason. As we are stopped by airport or cruise security, we’ll fare better with them in the labeled foil packs than in the white plastic bottles I saved that I plan to toss before we leave Morocco.

This morning, I performed the pill task earlier than usual after being awakened at 5:00 am by the crowing rooster next door. He’s obviously going nuts now that its spring, continuing to crow throughout the day, until dark. 

Fresh produce is offered for sale at Le Jardin including these pretty oranges.

Looming in our minds has been the car and flight we still need to book for leaving here in 27 days which invariably proves to be a lengthy process when making every effort to get a good deal. We postponed booking these two items as we considered the possibility of leaving a few days earlier. Now, that we’ve re-framed our thinking, we’re content to stay until our departure date of the 15th of May.

In addition, we still have four more family members to book for Hawaii as we continue to watch rates on a daily basis. We plan to have their bookings completed by the first week of May.

Notice the two buds growing behind the flower.  Photo taken from a tree in Le Jardin a restaurant we’ve found that stays open at all hours.

Yesterday, we created a detailed spreadsheet listing all the places we’d like to visit in the next year including prices and details of possible cruises and the flights to travel to those locations, the cost of rent, rental cars, and other expenses. As a result, we created a budget for the next year. It feels great to have accomplished this task.

When realizing that the cost of our “wish list” was more than we’re comfortable spending, we knew that the next step in the process was to whittle it down to an acceptable level. That it itself is a time-consuming process.  However, that business-related part of me still enjoys creating and updating spreadsheets. Good thing. It’s definitely not within Tom’s skill set or desire to learn.

A hand-carved head on display at Le Jardin.

Assigning tasks to each of us helps to avoid redundancy. At the moment, Tom is researching future travels while I document his research. This works well for us. I’m researching the remaining flights for our family, while Tom keeps checking our booked cruises for rate changes. (If prices drop, we get the benefit of the lowered price, if done so prior to 90 days before sailing).

As a result of the division of tasks, neither of us, ever feels there is an imbalance in responsibility, very important in keeping peace when together around the clock. Resentment over the balance of responsibility is often a source of disharmony in relationships which has never been an issue for us.

As I shot this photo of this parakeet in a cage at Le Jardin, she shook her tail feathers.

Without a doubt, I spend more time “working” each day as I write and post photos. But, the fact that it is a pleasant task, doesn’t make it feel as if it’s work.

As much as life for retirees may seem like a walk in the park, most of yours and our days are filled with tasks and responsibilities, none of which we can easily ignore or postpone.

This guy refused to awaken from his nap while I took these photos.

Maybe next time our hard-working, still working, family members or friends comment about the “easy” lives of retirement, they can ask us how we spend our days. Then, perhaps, they may realize it is not as simple or easy as it appears. Sadly, they eventually find out how difficult it is when we get so old that we can no longer perform our own tasks, and they have to take over.

It’s for all of the reasons we must grab at every moment we can, finding joy, pleasure and meaning in our lives.  And, it’s for this very reason, that we find ourselves in Morocco in spring of 2014, living life to the fullest, the best way that we can.
                                              ______________________________________

Photo from one year ago today, April 18, 2013:

Photo Tom took from our balcony at sunrise, as our ship made it’s way to Sam Juan, Puerto Rico where it spent the day. For details of this date, please click here.

Is having household support, adding to our lounging time?…No excues needed…

Without a major amount of vegetation in the Medina, other than in the small park near the main entrance and that which shops and restaurants has on their premises, it’s pleasurable to see flowers blooming.

Yesterday, Adil explained in French (he speaks little English) that Madame Zahra is ill and wouldn’t be able to come to the house or to make dinner. He seemed concerned that this was a problem for us which of course, it wasn’t, as we reassured him. Our only concern was for Madame returning to good health. 

Having full-time household help would not be on my list of “must have’s” if we won the lottery. In South Africa, at Khaya Umdani, Zef arrived at 7:30 every morning to do the last night’s dinner dishes, make the bed and clean the house. 

There’s a kindly shop owner working in this area that often stops and visits with us.

Of course, we appreciated his hard work as we do the staff at Dar Aicha, equally diligent and hardworking who are here from 9:00 am until 7:00 pm on the days that Madame Zahra cooks our dinner. On the days we dine out, they leave in the afternoon after tending to the house and the laundry.

For us, the lack of privacy would prevent us from desiring full-time help. In the future, should we settle for longer periods outside the US, most likely, we’d only want a biweekly house cleaner for a few hours each visit.

Overlooking the souk from the restaurant.

Without the responsibility of household tasks we can easily spend too much time lounging, something I have little interest in, never have. Tom, on the other hand, doesn’t mind sitting all day, tending to his online “hobbies” such as Ancestry.com, our investments, listening to his favorite radio show, Garage Logic from Minnesota, researching future travels, and communicating with family and friends via Facebook.

Luckily, the first half of my days are spent researching, writing, and managing photos. During the remainder of our time indoors, I manage our finances and budget, research future travels, spending a little time on Facebook communicating with family and friends, and responding to email. 

Another pretty rose in the restaurant’s rooftop garden.

Although, we’re out almost every day walking the Medina and the souk, often discovering new photo ops, there are only so many hours one can spend walking. Dining out no less than four times a week, the walk to the restaurants is often over an hour round trip, depending upon the density of the crowds. The walk to our preferred ATM is almost an hour round trip. 

At the Terrasses des Espices Restaurant, we were served this black olive Tapenade which I’m able to eat along with a basket of bread for Tom. Notice the ashtray on the table. Smoking is allowed in restaurants.

On occasion, we venture outside the Medina to the busy road, a location better spent inside a vehicle than on foot with the fast-moving traffic darting in and out at a frenzied pace which is not particularly safe area for walking. When needing to grab a petit taxi to a restaurant, it’s necessary to walk outside the walls of the Medina to the nearby taxi stand where it’s fairly easy to find a driver willing to negotiate for a reasonable fee.

It took time for me to become comfortable with staying indoors in Morocco a few days a week. Shouldn’t we be out taking advantage of our location? But, in reality, we’re not on a vacation/holiday. We’re living our lives.  Anyway, who goes sightseeing every day while living their day to day lives? 

Tom’s usual dinner. Fries and meat. By the time we leave Morocco, he may have had his fill of fries.

Today, with Madame Zahra still under the weather, we’ll head out when we get hungry preferring not to pick a time earlier in the day. Only a few restaurants are open during the day resulting in few options. Most often, the French and Italian restaurants we’ve found don’t open for dinner until 7:30 pm. Considering at least 40 minutes from opening time before the food arrives, dining is too late for our liking. 

We’ve found in all of our travels that most tourists from European countries tend to dine late, stay up late, and starting their day late. Usually in bed by midnight, we both are early risers, preferring to dine by 6:30 or 7:00 pm.

My dinner was delicious. The yellow stick has seasoned chicken resulting in yellow color. The white vegetable is fennel, not potatoes, a commonly served vegetable in Morocco.

Sure, we could adapt our ways to the traveling masses. However, we prefer to maintain some of the familiar routines which invariably add to our sense of feeling grounded. Stuck in our ways? Perhaps, to some degree.  But, then part of the magic of being “free” of certain responsibilities, allows us to decide how we prefer to spend our time.

Isn’t that what retirement is supposed to be like anyway? Yep.

                                                ______________________________________

Photo from one year ago today, April 16, 2013:

We dined in one of the specialty restaurants on the Carnival Liberty which much to our surprise was one of the best meals we’ve had since embarking on our travels. This plate of meat was presented to us from which we selected our entrées. For detail of this amazing meal and our outing when our ship docked in St. Thomas, US Virgin Island where I had an opportunity to see an old friend, please click here.

Fun date night in the souk…An attitude adjustment hatched…

This gorgeous rose was growing in one of the many flower beds in the restaurant where we dined last evening.

The souk and the Big Square of the Medina of Marrakech change at night. The energy level ramps up, the shopping crowds are less frenzied though crowded and the mood goes from “let’s rush” to “let’s have fun!”

Dining on the rooftop, we spotted this familiar Minaret Tower.

As we walked by a shop, a vendor yelled to Tom, “Hey, Grande Mustache! What you buy for the madam?” Tom returned, “She has it all!”

I giggled, as we women often do when our loved ones make assumptions that we already have everything we could possibly want.

When we asked for a dinner menu, the server brought this huge chalkboard for our review.

Yesterday afternoon, an attitude adjustment was born out of our magical way as a team, of making a conscious decision to “reframe our thinking” (words used by motivational speaker Tony Robbins from years passed) by returning to our usual cheerful and enthusiastic selves.

We’d been in a bit of a funk for this past month, mostly precipitated by one of us more than the other, looking for all that wasn’t right, as opposed to what was right, invariably sucking the other into the mood. As hard as the more positive one tried to stay upbeat, the at times more somber partner quietly refused to partake in rampant bouts of cheerfulness.

Plants, trees, bushes, and flowers were on display on the restaurant’s rooftop.

Without prodding, criticizing or any form of recrimination, the more cheerful one had an idea: Let’s start planning  our travels from May 15, 2015 into the future for the somber one’s first choice of the next stop along the way. And then, magic happened! We had a light bulb moment.

We have no home, no stuff and no idea where we’ll be in 13 months when on May 15, 2015 our last booked rental ends. Imagine that such a thought could be disconcerting. 

These tables were rather low suitable more for children than adults.  We sat in a corner managing to get comfortable.

Add the fact that present circumstances don’t necessarily keep us entertained and busy without the day to day responsibilities of managing a household to some extent; planning and shopping for meals, cooking and creating a familiar routine and ambiance, had left us both with too much idle time on our hands. As a result, idle time…la la la…idle mind (or whatever they say).

With the utmost excitement, we both began researching online with a greatly improved WiFi signal, thinking, discussing, and planning. An animated conversation ensued along with a renewed sense of “why we’re doing what we’re doing.” 

The views from the restaurant’s third-floor rooftop.

Over our next 30 days in Marrakech, we’ll enthusiastically continue our search, already with a decent plan in mind as we strive to make it affordable, exciting, and befitting our dreams of continuing on in our travels

Although much of the Medina is well maintained, the age of many of the buildings result in many distressed buildings.

Instead of dining during the day, as we often do, last night we walked the short distance from our door to the souk with a spring in our step, determination in our hearts on a mission to find a new restaurant serving mostly French or Italian cuisine and have a lovely evening.

The restaurant’s name was displayed in white stone in the backyard.

After a 20 minute walk through the souk, we discovered exactly what we were looking for, a three-story restaurant we’d noticed on prior walks, one which we’d never tried. We weren’t disappointed by the décor, the food, the service or the prices at Terrasse des Espices or, of course by the conversation. OK, their credit card machine battery was dead. No big deal. We paid in cash.

Here again, more old and worn buildings mostly unoccupied.

As I enthusiastically type fast and furiously while voraciously pounding on this uncooperative keyboard, once done here today, the search will continue. Over the next few weeks, we’ll book the remaining five flights for our family members for Hawaii, book a car and flight for Madeira, while we continue to research our options for future.

More rooftop views.

And, of course, once we start booking for the future, we share the details with our readers.

This Arabic symbol Hamsa, protection from the evil eye.

Once again, we’re our old (yes, old) cheerful selves filled with determination and enthusiasm for today, tomorrow, and times yet to come. 

“Hey, Grande Mustache,” I mutter with a huge grin on my face, “Thanks for sharing a great day, delightful date night and yes, you’re right..she does have it all!
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Photo from one year ago on April 15, 2013:

Tom coming down the slide of the ship’s pool. For details for the post from that date, please click here.

Not always ideal…May I whine a little more? New photos…

Another Kasbah as we drove through the High Atlas Mountains.

It’s Sunday morning. The WiFi signal is so poor that I had to write today’s post on a Word document, later requiring me to retype every word since the poor signal wouldn’t allow me to upload it directly to Blogger.com.  I tried more than 10 times, each time receiving a message that the signal is too weak.

In this little village, many stops contain various products with the scent of roses.

Also, I don’t like this computer, an HP, that I purchased in South Africa under duress when I dropped and broke my wonderful Acer. I miss it if one can miss a computer. The keyboard uses punctuation from other languages requiring extra typing to correct it.

What that a riad at the top of this hill?

Besides, the letter “i” is still not working properly nor do most of the other keys requiring me to press the keys extra hard. Need I say that this is more than annoying?

More villages off the road to the High Atlas Mountains.

May I whine more, please?

I miss drinking coffee. The only means of making coffee is using the hand-operated French press Tom has mastered. However, the coffee here is just too strong for my liking, even when he uses less. I’ve switched to Lipton tea bags which I don’t like when Earl Gray or plain black tea is unavailable in the grocery stores. I don’t care for flavored teas.

Every area had a nearby mosque as shown in the lower right in this photo. Most homes have electricity and the Internet which we hadn’t expected.

I miss our coleslaw. It was a staple we included at all of our home-cooked dinners. Surely, Madame Zahra would make it for us, except for the fact that I can no longer chance eating raw vegetables in Morocco. I’ve given up all raw vegetables including salads. I miss salads. I don’t want to get sick again.

The winding road.

This riad is wonderful, as is the staff. We have no complaints, only praise for it and for them. The souk, although crowded most days, is full of life and energy. But going through there almost every day becomes redundant, especially when guarding oneself against the fast-moving motorbikes, swerving in and out.

The views of the villages situated at the base of the mountains created beautiful scenery.

The shoving and the pushing of the often frenzied tourists in the souk, desperate for the next big bargain, has worn thin. No wonder the locals appear annoyed and aloof. They too must have become tired of the crowds.

At some points, the mountain rocks were less colorful than others.

We understand why the vendors bark out to us to come and see their wares. We have to force ourselves not to look, not to smile, to avoid eliciting a response. I’d love to offer a friendly “bonjour” (good day) but doing so always seems to indicate that we may have an interest in making a purchase.

The sky changed frequently during the seven-hour return drive.

Oh, that we could be among the local people in a less sales orientated environment reveling in their companionship and conversation. They are lovely people from whom we could learn much. We see this from the four-person staff of Dar Aicha, genuine warmth and kindness, far beyond their duties.

The roads and signage were more modern than we’d expected.

It’s not that I miss the US. Of course, we miss family and friends. The pace, the place, the traffic, the cost of living, not so much.

Much of the greenery was from olive trees with olives as an accompaniment to many meals.

I won’t get into the fact that I miss nature and wildlife. Everyone who reads here is aware of that fact. I cling to the birds flying into the riad through the open courtyard, my Mother Nature companions, always available for a nature fix to some extent.

Does anyone know what this means?  Please post a comment, if you do.

Now, we count the days until we leave for Madeira, Portugal. Today at 32. Grocery stores, food shopping, cooking our favorite meals with leftovers for the next day if we’d like, a better WiFi signal, restaurants with offerings befitting both of us. And then, there’s the perpetual view of the ocean from every window. We’d already seen the house in Madeira when our ship docked at the port in Funchal in April 2013. We loved it.

The river was not as deep as it may have been a month ago with the snow melting at the mountain peaks.

Although it may sound as if I’m unhappy here, I’m not unhappy. There are enough good things to avoid any real angst. Tom and I laugh, having fun every day. I’m finally beating him at Gin, for the first time in four countries.  He beat me in Italy where we first starting keeping a countrywide tally, again in Kenya and then in South Africa.  If my luck continues over the next 31 days, (we leave on the 32nd day) I may win Morocco.

The interior of the small hotel on the river. Although not for us, with the barest of amenities, it was clean and suitable for backpackers and those seeking a hostel type environment.

Happiness is a choice. I choose it. Occasionally angst creeps in for minutes but never for an hour or a day. It wafts away when we laugh, we talk and we plan for the future.

The river view from the veranda at the hotel.

We have our health. We have each other. We’re staying true to our budget. We have this wonderful house and it’s amazing people with us each day. We have much to anticipate, today, tomorrow, as we head out to further explore, holding hands, feeling comforted and safe at each other’s side.

The river view from the window in our hotel room.

We’ve learned a lot here in Marrakech. We’ve learned more about how we’ll respond in certain environments.  With much world left to see, we’re excited to plan our future travels, now more well-armed than ever with the knowledge that the busy city is not for us for longer than a few weeks.

With the upcoming two weeks each in Paris and London, three days in Boston, six days in Vancouver, British Columbia, 11 days in Waikiki, Hawaii, we’ll have all the big city experiences we’ll need for awhile. From there, the peace, serenity, and nature are at our fingertips in our upcoming plans well into the future, as we figure out where in the world we like to live next. We’ll keep you posted.

A map of our location on the wall in the hotel’s veranda.  The hotel was located at the far-right.

Health providing, we’ll continue on, only until we can’t do it anymore. Stumbles along the way? Sure. We accept that. Will we love everywhere we go? Most likely, not. We never expected to love everywhere we’ll live.

The challenge of discovery drives us with the hope and expectation (oh, foolish me!) that we’ll be happy and comfortable more times than not, just like the rest of us who have good days and bad, wherever we may live.   That’s life, isn’t it?
                                                  _____________________________________

Photo from one year ago today, April 13, 2013:

Tom eating frog legs which he surprisingly enjoyed for the first time. We were on the Carnival Liberty when we arrived in Miami where we were booked for another cruise on the same ship, referred to as a “back to back.” We didn’t love Carnival cruises as much as other cruises but the food was especially good.  For details of the post from that date, please click here.