Boveglio, Lucca. Tuscany, Italy…Visit to Collodi, home of Pinocchio…

Tom in the doorway that walks out to the garden.
Only a portion of the gardens in the yard.

Remove the running water, the electricity, and the wireless Internet, we’d feel as if it were the were now living in the 1800’s on a hillside in an old stone farmhouse in Boveglio, Lucca, built in the 17th century.

View of the road near our new home.

The gardens, prepared for an early harvest and the flowers blooming in the warmth of the sun, await our awe inspiring picking to enjoy their full beauty in our hands. 

Sign in the yard.

Many of the neighborhood roads are narrow, befitting a horse and buggy, never a modern day automobile. The main roads, also narrow and winding, are not for the faint of heart as one hairpin turn appears after another, as each guardrail- free curve suddenly looms before us.

The back of the property.

At night, the darkness is almost startling with nary a light in view in these vast mountains and rolling hills. In the morning, the melodic sounds of birds, new to our ears ,wafts through the fresh, clean air, inviting us to awaken early to partake in yet another blissful day of Mother Nature’s bounty.

Play and outdoor dining area.
Flowers are planted everywhere for our enjoyment while here.
Can you picture this table filled with friends drinking wine, talking loudly and dining on homemade Italian food?

Four times each hour, at odd intervals, we hear the clanging sounds of a clock tower, only steps for our door.  Within hours of falling asleep on the first night, we quickly adapted to the comforting sounds, allowing us to sleep deeply without disturbance. And yet, throughout the day, we stop each time we hear the clang, giggling over its peculiar patterns, ringing one and three minutes before the hour and one and three minutes before the half hour.

This is the clock tower that chimes at odd times, next door to our home.

Our screen-less shuttered windows freely opened to the day and night, invite an array of flying insects that mostly and oddly find their way back outside before we turn in for the night, often buzzing around our heads during the day, an annoyance we are quickly becoming accustomed to.

As we walked in the yard, we encountered many trees unfamiliar to us. 

With no working television, service lost some time ago to a storm, with no microwave or electric coffee pot, we rummaged through the Tuscan style few cabinets to find alternatives. Alas, an old fashioned stove top percolator, caught our eye with a smaller version to boil water for tea. Without a single small electric kitchen appliance in sight, we are fast learning to do it the “old way” whatever that may be. Without complaint.

Continuation of the walk on the property where there are other homes.

And again, a small front loading washing machine with no clothes dryer, directions in Italian, and again, a folding rack as we used in Dubai. 

An old wishing well in the yard.  No bucket.
Of course, there’s no dishwasher other than Tom and no garbage disposal. I’ll do all the cooking with a simple but clean newer “old fashioned” gas stove. The refrigerator is clean, small and antiquated with a tiny freezer with one ice cube tray. I dumped my earrings into a soup bowl using the ice cube tray I’d brought along to hold them.
Another fountain in the yard.

Not surprisingly, there are many utensils available for making and serving pasta, bread and wine which unfortunately, we won’t be enjoying while here, other than for Tom when dining out. We’d purchased a peeler and sharp knife in Dubai that luckily wasn’t confiscated in our checked luggage, although they took two of our power strips. Go figure.

The road outside our new home.

In order to get a decent WiFi signal we have no alternative but to sit on the upper level veranda. Our own MiFi doesn’t work here with the altitude and the three foot thick rock walls. Here is our view as we write each day.

Yes, we fit all of our luggage in this tiny Fiat we’ve rented for the summer.

Inspired by the calm of our surroundings after many months on the move, we both are finding the quiet and serenity of this magical place to have as profound an effect as any place we may have visited in our journey thus far. 

The  outdoor dining area of the house next door.

After a trip partially down the mountain yesterday to stop at Vivienne’s tiny market in Benabbio, five kilometers away, for enough food to last us for a few nights, she extended “credit” to us, as did Alessandro at his restaurant Sunday night, until we are ready to make the longer drive to a bank to get Euros. 

The spaces between the houses are too narrow for cars, but were suitable for horses and buggies many years ago.  Photos of our walks in the area will continue as we explore.

Credit cards are not used in this area. They only accept cash and credit accounts only. Today, we’ll venture out to the town of Collodi, a half hour drive to a larger grocery store. (Vivienne’s store was the size of a small bedroom with but a few items we need to cook our meals. 

View from our veranda and the best spot to get a signal.

Although we appreciate her setting up an account for us, we must go to a larger grocer. This Saturday we’ll go out to dinner again, hoping to make some new friends and to pay both our restaurant and grocery bills with our new stash of Euros.

The view to a part of our yard from the veranda.

In Collodi, the home of the Carlo Lorenzini (November 24, 1826 – October 26, 1890), better known by the pen name Carlo Collodi, was an Italian children’s writer known for the world-renowned fairy tale novel, The Adventures of Pinocchio, we’ll head to the bank to get Euros, buy groceries, fill the tiny tank in the Fiat and hopefully find more contact lens solution, my nemesis. There’s no pharmacy nearby. 

For Euros $23, US $30, we purchased enough food for a few days: four pork chops, one bag jumbo shrimp, four pieces swordfish, one pound of sliced ham, two heads of Bibb lettuce, one pound of carrots, eighteen eggs and one tube of mayonnaise (yellow box on the right).  The villa has seasonings, olive oil red wine vinegar and balsamic vinegar.

Tomorrow, we’ll post photos of the interior of our new home and our visit to Collidi which hopefully will fulfill today’s errands. If not, tomorrow’s another day. We have all the time in the world.

Part 2 Venice…One more city knocked off our dream list….Also, update on our new home…

With the hot sun, the massive crowds, the going rate of $125 to $150 a couple and as evidenced here, the gondola traffic jam, we decided to forego the 30 minute ride in the clogged canals.

Today, we’ll post our remaining photos of Venice, first updating our current status which we’ll write about tomorrow in more detail, with much enthusiasm.

A simple doorway renovated for modern day.

We arrived in Boveglio, Lucca, Tuscany yesterday around 5:00 pm after a long and difficult drive from Venice, estimated by Google Maps to be a 3 1/2 hour drive which ultimately proved to be a 4 1/2 hour drive.

Another old door.

Reading road signs in Italy is different than reading road signs in the US. Its not about the language difference since there’s nothing to reading a word written in Italian, following a map. The difficult part was the fact that roads are not clearly marked. One can drive for a half hour before seeing a sign that confirms (or not) that one is on the correct highway.

Hard to resist. Fun to see.

Plus, there is considerably confusing maneuvering through small towns along the way to stay on the correct road.  We only had to turn around twice, luckily catching it before we got too far.

Inside yet another square on our lengthy walk to St. Mark’s Basilica.

Thank goodness for Google Maps and our MiFi which worked great providing us with a good signal along the highway, during the last hour. The mountainous drive from Florence (Firenze) to Boveglio took us through 29 tunnels!

 Inside the courtyard of the Universita Ca Foscari was a decoration made of trash.

The scenery inspired me to take photos but the massive guardrails prevented getting any good shots. Unfortunately, we couldn’t stop to take photos with no shoulder or rest stops on the many toll roads we traveled.

 The Universita Ca Foscari entrance.

As for the rental car…I stood in line for one entire hour at the Budget Rental window inside the Marco Polo Airport while Tom waited outside with the luggage. Meeting a friendly couple from Chicago while in line, the wife was so kind to go outside to watch our luggage while Tom came inside to show his driver’s license.  

Leonardo da Vinci exhibit was being held at the museum.

Tom will be the sole driver of the tiny Fiat six speed vehicle. I must admit I’m not the best driver (OK.  I said it.). Although in an emergency, I could drive a stick shift but it has been 30 years since my last attempt. With the long drive “UP UP UP” to our summer home in Boveglio, with NO guardrails, no thank you.

More delectable looking confections.

We awaken this morning in a mountaintop paradise, the sound of nearby church bell chiming on the half hour and hour (not always consistent), in a 17th century renovated stone house in the true Tuscan style and we’re once again relishing in our unique surroundings, filled with contentment and joy.

Lots of activity.

Tomorrow, we’ll post photos, tell you the sacrifices we must make while here, missing some of our familiar creature comforts and the enhancements to our lives that only this step back in history can bring.

Water buses along the Grand Canal.

I’ll tell you one tidbit now…they don’t take credit cards in this area for gas, groceries or restaurants.  Last night, starved after our long day, we found our way to the tiny town of Bennabio where the owner, Alessandro, of the town’s only restaurant Il Cavallino Bianco, opened an “account” for us, telling us we can pay our bill before we leave Boveglio in two and a half months. 

 As done in France, passersby over the Grand Canal at Ponte delle Accademia, place locks on
the bridge posts as a token of love, writing their names on the lock and throwing the key into the water.

Having used most of our Euros in the past month with no nearby bank and it also being Sunday, we appreciated not only a perfect meal (he cooked exactly following my restrictive diet) but speaking no English, we somehow managed to communicate. 

This huge wood carving of a face was interesting.

During dinner, the owner of the local grocery store across the street from the restaurant stopped by to also extend credit to us for our time here.  It certainly pays to know Lisa and Luca, the owners of our summer home, popular and well loved residents of this quaint community.  More will follow tomorrow.

More buses on the waterway.

So here are our remaining photos of Venice, now almost seemingly a distant memory as we immerse ourselves in our new home, soon heading to the town of Benabbio to grocery shop in the tiny store owned by the lovely Vivienne. Photos to follow!

Here’s the rest of our Venice photos!

Sebastiano T. Italy location.  Campo Santo Stefano.
Ah, here’s another pharmacy!
Ornate décor over doorways was appealing.
Many old apartments buildings lined the way to the square.
The food,  feast for the eyes, let alone the palate.
Tight quarters.  Lots of boats.
Statue of Marco Polo.
This was as close as we got to the gondolas.
A square we entered when trying to make our way to St. Mark’s visible in the background.  We walked for two hours to get to St. Marks over many bridges, down many narrow streets.
More French looking than Italian, this window display of masquerade items was beautiful.
Murano glass figurines from a shop window.
Clock Tower.
Piazza of St. Mark…pretty impressive, eh?
Taking photos of people taking photos.
People and pigeons, everywhere.
Basillica di San Marco.
Tricky photo.  Murano glass sailboats taken outside the store with the reflection of Piazza of St. Mark reflecting in the glass creating a cool backdrop.
Outdoor restaurant in the Piazza of St. Mark.  Notice the attire on the waiter in the center.
Basilica di San Marco.
More detail on the Basilica di San Marco.
Clock at the Venetian Arsenal.
Gold angels at the top Basillica di San Marco.
Another view of the Basillica di San Marco.
Piazza San Marco.
Side view of Basillica di San Marco.
Piazza San Marco.
Basillica di San Marco.
Atop the Venetian Arsenal.
One of the many structures at the top of Basillica di San Marco.
We got a better view of this statue on our return trip, Island of St. Giorgio Maggiore, Chiesa Di San Giorgio.
Shuttles lined the docks to return passengers to one of the many giant ships at the port.
A great shot at every turn.
Waiting at the dock for our shuttle to depart.
Not appearing to be rough, the waterway was rough due to the boat traffic.
Views along the waterway on the return to the ship.
As the Norwegian Spirit shuttle boat took off to return us to the ship.

Our next crazy 48 hours….

It’s Saturday, our final full day aboard the Norwegian Spirit. Tomorrow morning, we’re #2  on the disembarking list. We’ll get in line to get off the ship, wait in another line to grab a cab to the Marco Polo Airport in Venice, Italy in order to pick up our awaiting rental car and begin the almost four hour drive to our new home in Boveglio, Lucca, Tuscany.

We’ll arrive in Venice at 2:00 pm today.  Wisely planning our time to ensure we do exactly what we hope to do in Venice, adds to the excitement and enjoyment of the next few days. Disembarking a ship is one of the least favorite aspects of our travels (along with airports).  Carefully planning our exit gives us both a sense of comfort and control, easing the process along the way.

The anticipation of finally seeing our new home for the summer gives me butterflies. If it were a “vacation” for a few weeks, I’d be less concerned. But spending two and a half months is a long time, as long as we’ve stayed anywhere since leaving Minnesota on October 31, 2012.  

Our biggest concern is the fact that the house isn’t air conditioned. It’s hot in Tuscany in the summer. Recently, I contacted the owners, Lisa and Luca, asking about the comfort in the house in the heat. They assured us that the thick stone walls of the 17th century house stays cool all summer.

Having spent the past several months in very warm climates with much of our time outdoors, hopefully, we’ll be acclimated. As long as we can sleep at night, the warm days will be tolerable.

So here’s the rundown for the next 48 hours:

7:30 am to 8:15 am today:  Breakfast in the Raffles Cafe.

8:15 am to 11:30 am today: Currently we’re outdoors on the covered patio, overlooking the pool, writing our story.  Our laptop batteries last about 3 hours which always motivates us to complete our story within that time frame.

11:30 am – 1:30 pm today: Pack all of our bags, leaving out clothing and toiletries for tonight and tomorrow morning.  Recharge our computers.

1:30 pm – 3:00 pm today:  Spend our final time by the pool reading our books while enjoying the fact that most of the passengers are getting ready to disembark to Venice when the ship arrives around 2:00 pm, which leaves the pool area quiet and relaxing.

3:00 pm – 4:00 pm today: Now in port in Venice, our MiFi will work. We’ll head to the 12th deck to the Galaxy of the Stars lounge in the bow of the ship to do our banking, pay bills, update our budget from expenses on and off the cruise, entering all the receipts. We do this at the end of every cruise and every few days when staying put for a few months to ensure we don’t miss entering a single expenditure.

4:00 pm – 4:45 pm today:  Shower and dress for the evening in comfortable clothing and shoes bringing a warm sweater for me.

5:00 pm – 6:30 pm today: Meet our fabulous friends Nicole and Gerry for cocktails in Champagne Charlie’s for our final time together with them and our favorite bartender from Bali, Gusti! What a guy!

6:30 pm today: Get off the ship to go to Venice. Hopefully, we’ll be able arrange for an evening gondola ride at sunset.  This will allow us plenty of time to explore Venice. 

11:00 pm tonight: Return to the ship in time to place all of our luggage outside our cabin door, get some rest, planning to get up by 6:00 am.

6:30 am – 7:15 am tomorrow: Breakfast in Raffles Cafe.

7:15 am – 8:00 am tomorrow: Return to our cabin to gather our hand luggage, placing it on one of our luggage carts, finalizing packing our of digital equipment which we always carry with us.

8:00 am – 9:30 am tomorrow: Wait in our designated area for our number to be called to disembark the ship.  

9:30 am – 10:30 am tomorrow: Wait in line at the taxi stand for a ride to the Marco Polo Airport where we’ll pick up our awaiting rental car.

11:00 am – 11:30 am tomorrow: Pick up rental car. Email Lisa and Luca using laptop and MiFi telling them we are on our way and our expected time of arrival at the house.

11:45 am – 3:00 pm  tomorrow: Drive from Venice to our new home in Tuscany, stopping for photos along the way, hoping to arrive by 3:00 pm, our tentative time to meet Lisa and Luca.

3:00 pm – 6:00 pm tomorrow: Familiarize ourselves with the house. Unpack all of our luggage. Find a nearby restaurant for dinner.

6:30 pm – 8:30 pm tomorrow: Dinner at the local restaurant,-presenting our prepared Italian language instructions for my gluten-free, grain-free, starch-free, sugar free and low carb way of eating.

8:30 pm – 10:00 pm tomorrow: Email family and friends that we’ve safely arrived in Tuscany and finally test out our new bed.  ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ (Much needed by then!)

Monday morning, awaken early as usual: Photos! Story! Trip to the grocery store! Getting acquainted with our new neighborhood! Find a health club! Do laundry! Go for a walk!

Hopefully? Grinning from ear to ear as we enter this new phase of our journey.

By the way, any of these plans are subject to change. 

Cote d’Azur, Toulon, France…Quite enticing….

 

Toulon,  Coted’Azur France, the French Riviera…what a place!
Toulon, France
Only a day spent in Toulon, Cote d’Azur, France, will remain in our minds for a long time to come.

Of all the cities we’ve visited thus far, Toulon, oneof the charming towns along the southern coast of France, known as the French Riviera left a special place in my heart.

Port of Toulon
As we neared the port of Toulon, Cote d’Azur (the French Riviera).
Boats packed the marinas at the popular resort destination.

Only a month ago, we wrote about our visit to Marseilles, France, further to the west of Toulon which is also considered a part of the renowned French Riviera, the area of many hot spots of the rich and famous. 

The beaches in Toulon were sparse of sunbathers, the summer season yet to come.
Surprisingly, Le Petite Train moved too quickly for us to take as many good photos as we would have liked, our camera skills budding.
Just love the pharmacies in other countries, far removed from our familiar Walgreen’s.

Finally, feeling well enough to venture out yesterday morning, we purchased two tickets to Le Petite Train for approximately US $16 for the ride through the immediate area, checking out local architecture, usual
tourist shopping area and local beaches.

Old naval buildings lined the coast, Toulon a substantial naval site hundreds of years ago, remaining so yet today, drawing many tourists.

 

Bicycles and motorized bike are quite common means of transportation in this beach side winding, hilly town.
 

 We found Marseilles and Toulon, although different, offeringthe same local flair of quaint European cities, outdoor cafes and a seemingly easylifestyle. Workers and shop owners engaged in lively conversations while standing outside the door of their shops, rapidly puffing on cigarettes, arms flailing wildly in easy-to-read body language of pure passion.

47% of Toulon’s buildings were destroyed in World War II, resulting in many buildings of post war design.

How often in the US did we see an employees at a Starbucks or a MacDonald’s standing by the door of their place of employment talking in a fevered pitch, while waving their hand, holding a cigarette, in passionate fervor? How different life is here!

Although many of the buildings are over 60 years old, the integrity of the familiar and revered French style was maintained.
Cafes and restaurants lined the boulevard, leaving the passers-by many options to relax.
We believe this was yet another naval building of some sort, whizzing by too quickly to discover more.  If you know this building, please write and I will update the information here.

We were not disappointed other than the difficulty we had taking photos as Le Petite Train quickly whizzed by spots of interest with little time to prepare the shot.  I’m not
that good at it yet!

Tom was quick to alert me to topless sunbathers on the sparsely populated beaches, the peak of summer yet to arrive, as we quickly scooted past. In my own state of pure delight as to yet another cultural difference (one we noticed in other ports of
call and in Belize a few months ago), I couldn’t turn my head quickly, only to
miss the exquisite view.

It was difficult to get a good shot of our ship, obstructed by boats in the marina.
We continued to try for ship shot.
Not the best photos of us but we liked the mime, leaving him a tip in his basket.

How foolish we Americans are in our Victorian ways of hiding our bodies by centuries of supposed Puritanical beliefs about nudity? I doubt I’ll ever go topless on a foreign beach with my own rigid morays
ingrained into a lifetime, but its enchanting to witness the laissez faire attitude of others in foreign lands.

Finally, a decent shot of our ship as we walked back to our ship. Security inspected the contents of our mugs containing iced tea to ensure we hadn’t put booze in them to bring back onto the ship, not for security reasons but to ensure we weren’t prevented from spending money on the ship’s $8 cocktails. 
Leaving the train at its final stop, we walked the short distance back to the ship passing marinas, outdoor cafes, restaurants, shops and vendors, each offering their own unique perspective of life in a coastal village in the much desired south of France, Cote d’Azur.

Upon returning to the ship, we lounged by the pool int thecool 70’s degree weather, a far cry from the scorching 95 degrees in Dubai, easily letting also two hour pass before we decided to go inside. 

I worked out for the first time in over a week in the ship’s well equipped fitness center having struggled in doing so once while
sick in Dubai, feeling refreshed and invigorated for the first time in weeks.

At 5:00 pm our phone rang in our cabin, a call comingf fromthe lovely French Canadian couple, Nicole and Gerry, whom we met on the LeP PetiteTrain, inviting us for happy hour in their cabin to celebrate Gerry’s birthday.

Spontaneity, now our middle names after a lifetime of planning ahead, we immediately dashed out the door, still in our bathing suits and short, to join them as we all watched the ship leave the Port of Toulon while engaged in a series of storytelling and “guy jokes,” a favorite of both Gerry and Tom, none of which I can (or will) share here. Email Tom for details.

Later back in our cabin, unable to wipe the smiles off of our faces, we dressed for dinner in Windows, the second of the included restaurants to dine and see what the evening had in store for us. Once again, little were we disappointed.

Seated at a table for four, referred to as
“sharing” (which usually is at a table for six or more), we relaxed as we patiently waited to discover who our evening table mates would be, somewhat like going on a blind double date.

No less than five minutes after being seated, a couple from Scotland, Anne and Chris sat down and the fun began. 

There again, more laughter, more storytelling,
more inappropriate jokes while barely noticing our food as we gobbled it down between stories and fits of laughter.

At almost 10:00 pm with the restaurant closed, we saido ourgoodbyes to Anne and Chris meandering off to our cabin for hopefully more restful repose. We were still on Dubai time two hours later. No wonder I started nodding off once my head hit the pillow. 

In only 10 days from today, we’ll be settling in to our new home for the summer in Tuscany. There will be no new people to hang out with at happy hour or dinner each night.  There will be no easy meals prepared for us, unless we’re willing to pay.  No one will make our bed providing fresh linen and towels twice daily. We’ll be on our own, in reality most comforting and familiar.

But there, will be a place to call “home” for
the next two and a half months, a 17th century renovated stone farmhouse and a
car at our disposal. For yet another
short time, we’ll settle into a familiar routine reminiscent of our “old lives” except every few days or so, we’ll take off to see the endless array of the breathtaking treasures that the country of Italy has to offer, too many to mention here now but will be shared with stories and photos as we go along.

It will be far cry from the usual trip to work, a visitt tothe local Cub Foods, a workout at the local Fitness 19, a casual stroll in then neighborhood all of which at the time was appreciated and cherished in its simplicity.

In our new life, simplicity has taken on a new meaning and that too, my friends, will continue to be appreciated, shared and cherished.

A travel day from hell in parts…A travel day in heaven for the balance….

The menu we were each handed after taking our seats on the Emirates Airlines flight from Dubai to Barcelona.

We live and learn. 

In our “old lives” we assumed we had a moderate amount travel experience as a result of various vacations over many years, seldom if ever, encountering the trials and tribulations that we now encounter as nomads. This is especially the case for those of us who don’t go “home” to repack subsequently hauling everything we own with us every single day.

It’s somewhat similar to the turtle carrying his “house” on his back. If he/she flips over, his/her whole world is literally and figuratively upside down. That was us yesterday morning as we left Dubai, United Arab Emirates to fly to Barcelona, Spain, to stay overnight in a hotel, leaving today to board our 8th cruise since January 3, 2013.

Actually, it will be our final cruise over the next 15 to 16 months with us staying on land through July 2014:  Tuscany, Italy (beginning in less than two weeks); Diani Beach, Kenya; Kruger Park, South Africa;  Marrakesh, Morocco and Madeira, Portugal, all of which we’ll be living in single family homes from two to three months.  

Photos were taken with my phone.  Our cameras were too hard to get to when on the plane. Who knew I’d want photos of the inside of the plane anyway? This is the removable remote control that is tethered with a retractable cord, in each of our personal command stations.  The button on the right releases it from the console.
As much as we loved our two and a half months in Placencia, Belize, we also look forward to settling in to our new locations savoring the unique and varied cultural differences we will behold and cherish in our hearts, in our minds, in our photos and our writing.

Yesterday,we took our first flight since we left Minnesota on Halloween, 2012. All other transportation since leaving the US has been by way of car and cruise ship. 

This is Al Pacino playing Phil Specter in the HBO movie of the same name we both watch simultaneously on our own screens.  I watched two scary movies after this and Tom watched Lincoln, failing to remember the second of the three. 
The limitations of refusing to fly could invariably prevent us from the opportunity to experience many parts of the world. 

Thus, we booked this first flight to Barcelona, to “get our feet wet” with the realities of baggage restrictions, one way fares, time constraints, tiny airplane seats and in most cases, no meal on board.

Let’s get the yucky part over with first. The property manager arranged for our ride to the Dubai airport. With our flight at 8:15 am, Ignacio picked us up at our Dubai condo at 6:00 am sharp. If I slept three hours Sunday night, I’d be stretching it. 

Our remote in place, revealing the many options on the screen.

My phone’s alarm was set for 5:00 am. I still didn’t fall asleep until after 2:00 am having the usual “moving anxiety” that Tom and I both seem to struggle with. 

After an excruciating day on Sunday, tossing yet more “stuff” to further shrink the load, we knew our baggage was overweight. Our one large bag and carry-on bag each were stuffed to the gills, now down to one large suitcase each for clothing.

I don’t know why we got such a kick out of the remote, taking so many photos, but here it is again outside the console.  Quite nifty.  Then again, its the small things….
Our menu for the flight on Emirates Airlines. 
With the intent of facing the excess baggage reality after weighing our bags on our portable travel scale Sunday afternoon, we prepaid $415 which allowed us an included 30% discount for paying online in advance. This allowed us an extra 20 kg, which translated to 44 pounds. Our checked bags included two large suitcases and one duffel bag.
 

We knew this wasn’t enough, but hoped as we’ve done on flights in our “old lives” that perhaps we might skate through at this airport.

Ha!  No skating in Dubai!  We were required to place all of our checked luggage on a scale only to discover that we still were short, resulting in yet another payment for $240.Ouch!  Now we were in for US $655 for excess baggage fees. If we’d left the two carry on bags we’d hoped to check, we’d have had to pay yet another US $300. Tom stacked them on the wheelie cart.

If you can see this clearly, notice the verbiage at the bottom of the page where it mentions the free drinks.
Exhausted from the trying experience, including a little diplomatic pleading, we allowed ourselves a moment to sit down to catch our breath, only to look at each other simultaneously, standing knowing full well that we had better be on our way. It was already 7:10 am. We had to keep moving with the looming security check facing us. 
 

After removing our bulky boots, jackets, watches and all the carry on luggage on our carts, multiple gray plastic bins began going through the x-ray machines.  After our awful experience with the knife placed in our bin in Barcelona, we kept a watchful eye as it all went through the conveyor.

Confident that we had nothing to worry about, we stood by prepared to gather our stuff and be on our way.

No such luck.  Showing us an x-ray of one of the carry on bags, the security guard insisted we remove everything in one of the orange carry on bags to find an object that appeared to be a pair of pliers or large tweezers.   Neither of us recognized the item. 

This was Tom’s lunch.  I was so hungry I started eating my deli plate before remembering
to take the photos.  Tom ate twice, me only once, still full from breakfast. Real silverware, food wasn’t bad at all. 
One by one, still in our compression stocking feet, we started pulling every carefully packed item out the overly stuffed bag. I kept asking to see the x-ray again and again. It looked as if the item was located in the upper right hand corner of the bag. As Tom and I reviewed the x-ray over and over, we both realized simultaneously, that this wasn’t an x-ray of our bag! It was an x-ray of someone else’s bag who was now long gone.

Embarrassed by their error, needing to justify the delay, they ended up confiscating one of our extension cords and an old surge protector, leaving us with two smaller items, neither of which were in the bag in question. What? At this point, we had little energy left to argue as we repacked up our bag, put on our boots and began to make our way to Gate 36.

It was now 7:32 am. Our plane was scheduled to depart at 8:15. All we had to do was get to the gate and somehow convince the flight attendants to allow us to bring on the six carry-on items in our possession, as opposed to the allowable one item per person.

We walked and walked, seemingly to no end, with our arms loaded with stuff while Tom
amazingly wheeled the precariously stacked cart. Following sign after sign all pointing
to Gates C 1-50, we wondered when we’d ever get close to the gate. First, we had to maneuver past Concourse A 1-50, then Concourse B 1-50 to find our way toward Concourse C. 

In dire frustration, twice we stopped asking uniformed employees if we were going the right direction.They assured us that we were. Time was marching on.  Were we going to miss our flight? Our cruise ship is leaving tomorrow. No refunds. What about our checked bags? Yikes.

Finally, we saw a sign that clearly stated “Gate 36.”  Following a narrow hallway, we ended up at a bus station. Oh, no! A bus to the tarmac? 

Sitting on the bus, still not moving at 8:15, in a near panic, Tom reassured me saying, “There are over 20 passengers on this bus going on this same flight. The plane won’t take off before we get there.” 

Once again, Tom was right. Once the bus started moving it took a full 10 minutes to arrive at the tarmac while the plane waited, cabin attendants eagerly waiting at the open doors beyond movable stairway.
“Oh, no,” I thought, “This bus has taken us to a steep stairway to climb to get into the plane?  How in the world will Tom haul that 100 plus pounds of stuff up such a steep set of steps in the unsteady wheelie cart. Everyone was rushing.
Waiting to be the last getting off, we were hoping that the flight attendants, in a desperate attempt to avoid any further delays, would push our bags through.  Perhaps, that was a good decision. 

In any case, in a matter of minutes, the nature of our day totally flipped when Tom somehow maneuvered the two flights of steep steps, puffing and panting in the 90 degree heat, all the way to the plane, all without a landing to enter the rear door of the plane.  Immediately the gracious flight attendants began to help with our bags with nary a complaint or comment, showing us to our assigned seats and then…the fun began.

Much to our delight, our two assigned seats were in a grouping of three seats with the third seat unoccupied. Keep in mind, we were the last passengers to board the plane thus we felt confident that the extra seat was ours to use. 

In a matter of minutes glasses of cold water were handed to us along with our dining menus.  Tom’s face was pale. It worried me. (Having both been sick for weeks, the strain of the morning wore thin in our weakened condition). Minutes later, we discovered the remotes to our personal monitors, the free current movies and TV shows, our comfy pillows and blankets, the complimentary headset, the complimentary cocktails, beer, wine and beverages.

We looked at each other with the same thought in mind…good thing we had yet to book our future flights yet. At all costs and efforts, we plan to try to fly Emirates Airlines.

 
For the first time ever, we both felt as if we were in first class when in fact it was “coach” which proved to be a pure luxury on Emirates Airlines. Gone was our frustration over the cost of our
excess baggage, gone was the angst over the security error, gone was the tension of the late bus ride to the plane and the fear of missing the flight.
In its place was a profound feeling of pure comfort, the pleasures of impeccable friendly service, cameras shown to us from the perspective of plane’s current views from the cockpit with detailed navigational information, multiple universal plug-ins for our digital equipment, perfect lighting, air-
conditioning and a bonus of spacious restrooms.

For almost seven full hours, we had fun. We talked. We laughed. We watched three movies each.  We recharged our phones in our own universal plug ins.We were served two full meals, breakfast and four hours later, a full lunch with dessert.  They accommodated my way of eating with ease, already on the menu, not too bad tasting.  What an experience!

If we can fly the many hours to Africa on Emirates, we’ll be thrilled. That’s our next challenge.

Exiting the plane in the telescopic tube at the modern Barcelona airport was uneventful. Exchanging US $ to Euros was time consuming but at this point we weren’t rushed.  

For the second time, I’d failed to bring the address to the hotel. When we came to Hotel Grums on May 5th, I hadn’t brought it assuming the cab driver would know the location of this popular boutique hotel, often booked by cruise passengers. When he didn’t know it he only had to plug it into his navigation system with ease. 

This second time as we headed back at the same hotel, I’d let it slip my mind to bring along the
address on my phone. When the cab driver didn’t have a clue where it was, nor did he have a navigation system, he pulled out a map asking our help.  Oh, yeah. A map was going to help us. Duh?

Pulling out my laptop from the tightly packed bag, I looked up the email confirmation that I’d received from Expedia with our hotel confirmation, telling his the address. He then looked on the map locating it and asking me for confirmation. 

Twenty minutes and US $50 later we reached our hotel, checked in and found our way to our room, figured out the plug ins on our own and plopped on the bed to relax until dinner at 7:00 pm.  

With the two hour time loss, sleep would come easily after a light dinner in the dining room and an episode of Downton Abbey on my laptop in  our room.

We’d made a decision to wear the same clothes yesterday and today with only fresh underwear to avoid opening our sucked Space Bags and suitcases at all. With not an inch anywhere in our luggage, it was a wise decision. In my “old life” I’d never wear a shirt more than once with my propensity to spill food on myself. 

This morning after dressing and looking in the mirror, a quarter sized spot adorned the center of my fitted tee shirt.  A little soap and water on a washcloth, a gentle rub, a resulting big wet spot and a while later, before we left the room for coffee, the spot was gone.
The only bags we opened were the computer bags and the single duffel bags filled with our year’s worth of toiletries, cosmetics, and miscellaneous items, some required to shower and freshen up. All we’ll need to repack before we leave the hotel at 10:30 am on our way to the pier, is the duffel and the computer bags.
This morning the reality dawned on me that I’d tossed (to make room) the remainders of my 12 ounce bottle of body lotion and an 8 ounce bottle of facial wash, two brand name items I’ve used for years.  Soap for two weeks won’t kill me plus I’m hoping our cabin steward can roust up a few little bottles of lotion.
Improvise, I remind myself. As long as we’re healthy and safe, the stuff doesn’t matter. Improvise.

Part 1…Off to Abu Dhabi, then Dubai…Photos…

As we sped along the freeway to Abu Dhabi, a 90 minute drive, we encountered numerous mosques.

Abu Dhabi, the capitol city of United Arab Emirates was hovering in my mind after arriving here more than a week ago. How could we possibly leave Dubai not having seen the world-renowned, most opulent city in the world?

Each mosque had its own unique architecture.

Dubai, in itself, is a wealthy city of perfection, cleanliness, low crime rate, strict laws and a gentle demeanor by its occupants. How could yet another city in this country be more in excess than Dubai? We were compelled to find out.

Umer our trusty tour guide and driver, was waiting outside the parking ramp for us when we arrived 10 minutes before our scheduled time of 8:00. Still feeling ill and hesitant about going, I was determined to make it through the day of sightseeing that we had arranged and rescheduled once already. 

As we entered Abu Dhabi, our mouths were agape at the world’s first round skyscraper, AIDer HQ.
As we neared the mosque.

Much to our delight, Umer arrived a brand spanking new Lexus, comfortable, smooth and well equipped for our day’s outing. As he explained he spent most of his days driving travelers about to see the various treasure of Abu Dhabi (and Dubai), a 90 minutes drive on a flawless, seemingly no-speed-limit freeway. His vast knowledge and experience were astounding, ensuring us we’d made the right choice in a driver.

As we approached Sheikh Zayed Mosque.  It was difficult, based on its size and location to get a full shot of the mosque’s enormous expanse.  This link will depict a full range.

With three hours of driving time to arrive in Abu Dhabi, we were left with five hours of actual sightseeing to include both cities.  Would I last that long?  My head still pounding, along with a feeling of exhaustion and weakness, I felt determined to do push myself as hard as I could. 

Real gold, everywhere!

The three hour drive was pleasant and uneventful, as we chatted on endlessly with Umer learning the many ways of Muslim life. Our preconceived notions and prejudices are often far removed from reality. 

The crispness of the white exterior was astounding!

This has been an eye opening experience that will remain in our hearts forever. A particular area of interest to me when speaking with Umer was the attention of one’s physical and emotional health, as well as spiritual well being. The work ethic is embedded in centuries of taught disciplines. Respect and care for one’s elders, arranged marriages and family life are the core of their existence. 

Almost to the entrance!

And, of most curiosity while here in Dubai and then yesterday in Abu Dhabi was the five times a day loud speaker chanting announcing prayer time, during which everything stops for those of the Muslim faith while they commit to prayer. Many times, we’ve heard the sounds, more so when we’ve been out to the pool at precisely 12:20 pm, less so when inside.

Umer insisted we stop for a photo op, taking this of us.

The first place we visited upon arrival in Abu Dhabi was the 8th largest mosque in the world and the largest in UAE, Sheikh Zayed Mosque. Before getting out of the car, Umer explained we’d be required to change into a black full coverage abaya for me and a white long thobe for Tom which would be provided for us upon entry into the mosque. As a result we wouldn’t need to wear the long pants we’d brought with us nor the long black scarf I had in our bag.

Definitely not my most flattering photo.  Tom looks great!  We’re standing in front of the architectural scale model. After we posed for this picture, a security guard rushed over telling us we are not allowed to touch one another in the mosque.  Of course, we complied.
The beauty continued at every step.
Hand cut granite floors.
This chandelier, one of three, was made entirely with gold and jewels.

The long walk from the parking lot to the mosque, in the heat with no breeze, was almost unbearable in my weakened condition. Tom and Umer’s patience with my slow and unsteady gait was appreciated but the longer I was in the heat, the worse I felt. 

Handmade carpeting.

By the time I reached the ladies open air changing room I was beside myself wondering if I could go on. The thought of donning the long dark garment in the heat was overwhelming. There was still quite a walk to reach the mosque.

More eloquent beauty…

The attendant looked about trying to find a garment tall enough for me with the requirement that the ankles are covered. She handed me a jumble black ball.. I struggled trying to figure out how to put on the silky one piece garment, finally requesting her help.

One of several areas for display of the Koran.

The sleeves to the abaya were inside out making it impossible to put on. I felt as if I had a tight turtleneck sweater caught on my head while trying to pull it off. Add, my bad shoulder and how I was feeling and I nearly panicked.

Standing among the gilded elegance left us in awe.

Alas, she helped untangle it and minutes later I walked out of the changing room to find Tom standing proudly in his white collarless one piece thobe looking at ease and quite dapper. In looking back at our photos I felt as if I looked more like the “grim reaper” than a respectful tourist.

Hand crafted prayer time clock…

With yet another stop outside in the heat to remove our shoes placing them in little bins, I couldn’t wait to get inside the air conditioned comfort of the mosque. Moments later, the blast of cold air filling us with relief, our eyes beheld a plethora of sights no word can describe. 

It was difficult to decide which way to look. The jewel encrusted accouterments were not only breathtaking but tastefully designed eliminated any sensation of gaudiness one might expect in such a lavish, opulent environment.

Umer suggested this traditional photo op in this designated prayer area.

For a period of time, I almost forgot how awful I was feeling becoming enraptured by this experience. All along, both Tom and I have said that we are more interested in people and culture throughout our travels than we are in visiting buildings. 

Every nook and cranny beheld another work of art.

The more buildings we see, we find that they bespeak their people and cultures, the finest workmanship, the creative minds and the often profound messages they are striving to convey in their work. The mosque was a fine example of this message and we felt honored to share in its glory and gift to the world.

Tom, as we’re nearing the turn toward the end of our tour through the mosque.

Let our photos depict the elegance and grace surrounding us as we slowly walked through this memorable spiritual place, Sheikh Zayed Mosque.

Our personal tour guide, Umer, couldn’t have been more helpful. Should you decide to come to Dubai or Abu Dhabi, whether vacationing or on business, you can feel comfortable having him provide not only your transportation needs but as a tour guide as well. At approximately US $250, AED $900 (plus tip) for the day, it was well spent. His personal email is listed here at this link.

Tomorrow we’ll post Part 2 of our day trip to Abu Dhabi and Dubai and also photos of Tom’s visit to the 124th floor observation deck of the famed tallest building in the world, Burj Khalifa. Unable to join him, I was thrilled with the excellent photos he was able to take while Umer and I waited in a café at the Mall of the Emirates in  Dubai, the largest mall in the world. 

They do “largest” here in UAE.  Interesting.

Only steps from the door to exit the mosque, Umer again grabbed the camera insisting we take one more shot of us, pressing me to smile. The experience, worthy of great smile. My headache, not so much.

Planning for our arrival in Tuscany begins…Also, tomorrow’s a big day…

Tomorrow, we’ll be gone the entire day visiting many exciting places of interest in Dubai. Of course, the cameras will be clicking, hopefully getting great shots of the sights this unique area has to offer. Please check back on Tuesday when we’ll post the story and photos of our private day trip with our cab driver Umer, as we travel in air-conditioned comfort in a newer SUV.

How far ahead we plan our means of transportation from ships and airports to vacation homes is determined by several factors; the availability of transportation to our final destination, the accessibility to the location, the likelihood of a string of cabs ready to transport passengers, the time of day of our arrival and, the urgency of our desire for peace of mind.

In our case, peace of mind is at the top of the list. Tom, worrier than he can be, finds comfort in planning well in advance with directions and a map in hand. I’m perfectly comfortable planning a few weeks in advance, rationalizing that “last-minute deals” might be the way to go. However, my ultimate goal is to keep Tom from worrying and get us to our location with the least stress. 

We plan to get to the airport in Dubai the following Monday for our flight to Barcelona, where we’ll stay for one night at the Hotel Grums again. The next day, we’ll grab a cab to take us to the port of Barcelona to board our eighth cruise since January 3, 2013, on a 12-day trip through the Mediterranean with almost daily stops in unique ports. (This will be our last cruise in 2013, with our next cruises scheduled in 2014 as we work our way to Hawaii to meet up with our kids for the holidays).

On June 16, we’ll disembark the Norwegian Spirit (I hope we like it!) in Venice, Italy, where we’ll have spent two days perusing this romantic city. 

The challenge: finding our way from Venice to our renovated 17th-century stone farmhouse in Tuscany, where we’ll spend the summer, a three-plus hour car ride. After the summer in Tuscany, we’ll fly to Mombasa, Kenya, a long flight away.

Over a year ago, when planning this leg of our journey, we accepted that a rental car for the entire two and a half months is vital, allowing us to take day excursions to other parts of Italy from this convenient location. 

With no nearby grocery stores and only a few restaurants, there is no way we are willing to feel trapped for the entire summer. The cost of renting a car, however small or economical, is outrageous. People have said, “Oh, I went to Italy and rented a car for $350 a week.” Well, let’s do the math. We’ll be there for ten weeks. We budgeted this expense, having checked on the pricing over a year ago.

Contemplating numerous options, we’ve come to the most stress-free solution to accomplish our goals: When our ship disembarks at the port in Venice, we’ll take a cab to Marco Polo Airport, a mere four miles, to pick up our awaiting rental car and drive ourselves to our awaiting property in Tuscany.

When we’re ready to fly to Kenya, we’ll drive the rental car back to Venice (it appears most flights to Mombasa depart later in the day), drop it off at the airport, and off we go to our awaiting flight.

We’d also considered; taking a train to Tuscany from Venice to rent a car in Florence, but then we’d have to get to a bigger airport to fly to Kenya. Returning to Venice is our most straightforward, least costly, stress-reducing option.

Today, we rented the car. We’ve heard horror stories about renting cars in Italy. Good grief. If you go online, you can find horrible stories about everything we’ve done so far. Refusing to spoil our experiences with needless speculation about “what ifs, would haves, and could haves” is pointless, sucking the life out of a potentially great opportunity.

As we know, things do go wrong. After all, I still have major sinus problems from that annoying ship-borne illness. After all, we’re practically trapped in our condo from construction at every turn, making walking outdoors nearly impossible. 

After all, is said and done, it’s all going to be OK as we continue to have the times of our lives, living on the roads, the seas, the skies, the mountains, the valleys, the canals, the deserts, and on and on.

A romantic day in Marseilles…Photos…

Le Grand Hotel in Marseilles, France.

He went kicking and screaming. My dear husband Tom, not one to do lines, participate in group activities, ride on a bus with tourists or wander through crowded areas, tentatively agreed to go on an excursion with me to Marseilles, France. 

Now a popular department store.

Had he chosen not to go, I would have gone on my own, determined not to miss seeing the second largest city in France’s southern coastal area.

Lifestyles of the rich and famous, an endless array of watercraft, some small and unassuming, others stunning and opulent, all a part of the resort atmosphere of the city of Marseilles.

No doubt, the prospect of being herded like cattle onto the bus was most annoying to him. But the bus was newer, air conditioned and surrounded with massive windows suitable for photo taking.

As we looked out at the island of the Count of Monte Christo, the tour guide explained that no such person actually existed.  But tourists arrive from all over the world to see the supposed island of the fictional Count.

Packed in the narrow seats, we took off from the parking lot near the pier for a full afternoon of
experiencing the sights and sounds of the city of Marseilles. As mentioned yesterday, the cost for two for the excursion was $150 which included a 21% VAT (value added tax).

Historic church we zoomed past.  Couldn’t get the name.

As we arrived at our first destination,  the famous Palais de Longchamps, renowned opulent “water tower” (it didn’t resemble a water tower in any manner) Tom grumbled as we exited the bus, preferring to wait on the bus while I got off to enthusiastically take photos.   

Palais de Longchamp is not a palace, instead a tribute to importance of the water supply in Marseilles. Please click here for historical significance.
Unfortunately, we only had 10 minutes at this site, preventing us from further exploration.

With only 10 minutes until we were required to return to the bus, he had a ready-made excuse to hurry me along. So impatient! I didn’t protest while doing exactly as I pleased, all the while ignoring his grumpy demeanor, which I’d learned to do long ago. 

Sidewalk café where Tom ate his ice cream.
The selection of gelato was mouth watering. 

I don’t fight. Nope, I won’t fight. I refuse to participate in the idle ranting of a grump. Have you ever caught anyone fighting when there is no audience? We don’t fight without a willing participant. 

The gelato shop, Regal Glace Café was located on the Place Gabriel Peri, a quaint location down the road from massive marina.  See Tom in the foreground enjoying his gelato as I took the photo.

So, long ago, I decided to be void of reaction to his occasional grumblings, knowing in a short time he’d lose interest and go back to his generally cheerful self.

Back on the bus, he mumbled under his breath, “Next time we stop, I’m not getting off the bus.”

“OK,” I calmly retorted, a smile on my face as I peered out the window at the wealth of beauty, a feast for the eyes, as we drove along the coast.

A short time later when we arrived at the Arche en Bord de Mer, I said “Excuse me, Honey,” as I unbuckled my seat belt in preparation for getting off the bus. 
Tom happy in front of the Arch.
 Me, equally happy that he is off the bus.
A kindly passenger on bus offered to take a photo of us together. 

Immediately, he stood, extending his hand to me as we made our way down the steep steps of the bus together both grinning from ear to ear. 

A little sandwich shop along the street. 

Thus, our romantic day in Marseilles began leaving us with memories we’ll treasure forever. 

Sycamore trees beginning to bloom as spring approaches.  The weather was cool.

Whether it was a walk along the busy streets near the marina, Tom’s chocolate mint and coconut cream, gelato cone from a shop along the street where a purchase is required to use the restroom (always the case in France, so we learned), or again sitting at a minuscule table on the sidewalk watching passersby, we were in heaven.

Taking photos while the bus zipped along the winding road was difficult through the glass.

Marseilles, a city of great food, entertainment, art, interesting architecture, massive estates of the rich and famous, was made picturesque by it’s close proximity to the Mediterranean Sea.

Love this street sign!

With its seeming endless array of marinas, yachts, beaches, restaurants, bistros, coffee shops and patisseries along the coast, it was easy to become entrenched in the romanticism of this city of 850,000. 

The narrow streets were a wealth of one interesting building after another. Marseilles is a very clean city, a delight to behold.

For us, the hustle and bustle of the city was a delight to behold as a visitor, but such a life would not appeal to us in the long term. We’re not “city people” preferring a more quiet lifestyle surrounded by nature and wildlife.

Taking this photo on foot, as we had an opportunity to walk the area, was the fastest moving 40 minutes of our lives.

Marseilles, although rich in character and style, was void of vegetation with a but a smattering of trees which most likely would be adorned with colorful flowers later in the season. It was still quite cool, the summer season soon to arrive. It’s temperate climate is comparable to California, adding to its draw for the affluent, tourists and retirees.

An old merry-go-round amid the office buildings and shop seemed perfectly in place in this charming city.

Our tour guide explained that a tiny two bedroom appartment near the coast would begin at no less than US $1.5 million, not necessarily affordable for most retirees. 

Arriving back to the pier at 5:30 PM, we were practically floating on air from a glorious day in Marseilles. Now, I am as determined as ever that we’ll spend such a day (or more) in Paris sometime in the future. 

Maybe then, he won’t go kicking and screaming as he recalls our memorable day in Marseilles.

Part 1…Harrowing experience…

Due to a poor internet signal aboard the ship, there are spacing issues in today’s post.  We apologize for the inconvenience.

We counted seven single lane bridges along the ride to Belize City.
When the driver of the shuttle, Mark Lanza, arrived at our door at LaruBeya fifteen minutes early, immediately I began to feel more at ease.  He didn’t hesitate to shake hands, introducing himself, jumping in to load our zillion pieces of luggage. 
It’s rare for anyone to receive a moving violation in Belize.  Police do not monitor the roads resulting in many fatal accidents.

Chatting with me momentarily, he apologized for the lack of air conditioning during our arrival in Belize on January 29, 2013, explaining that the system wasn’t working at that time and has seen been repaired. He sensed my apprehension about the long drive assuring me that he was a safe driver. By 8:00 am we were on the road.

 

The drive was uneventful.  Surprisingly, the time flew by in the cool vehicle and with his cautious driving.  By noon, we reached immigration at the pier. 

Two of a group of four women cruising together. It was a pleasure meeting them as we bounced around on the half-hour noisy ride on the tender from the pier to the ship.

With our two luggage carts, two grocery bags, my handbag, one bag with hangers, seven large suitcases, two carry-on bags, two laptop bags, and one bag with our laptop trays, we had a total of eighteen pieces. Yes, we know. Outrageous.  Soon, this will be cut in half.

A port agent was on standby awaiting us at the immigration office and check-in area, for cruise passengers.  Everyone seems to know our cabin number and that we were arriving mid-cruise since the port of Belize was an excursion port, not an embarking port.
 
Amazingly, we were moved through the check-in process with relative ease.  Our bags were whisked away to the awaiting tender, placed in the bow of the 100 person boat while we boarded inside. The bumpy, hot, crowed half hour ride to the awaiting Carnival Liberty was eased as we engaged is lively loud chatter (over
the earsplitting sound of the engine and the pounding waves) with our seatmates, a pair of lovely widows enjoying traveling together.

Reaching the ship, buzzers went off announcing our mid-cruise arrival, as our bags were hauled aboard, most of which were sopping wet from the outdoor boat ride. Security directed us to the guest services desk to check in to receive our “Sail and Sign Cards” which are used as both a credit card and cabin key throughout the cruise.

Entering the narrow, busy road as we approached the port of Belize City.  Notice the load the woman on the right is hauling on her bicycle.

Standing at the desk awaiting our turn, we looked at each other smiling at the relative ease in getting aboard. NOT SO FAST!!! Hold on to your seat folks! The stern security officer we’d met upon boarding approached us with a wary look on his face.  “Sir, madam, we have an issue with your luggage.”

My heart started racing. We’d had no illegal anything in our bags but we’d heard stories of passengers being detained for days for naught.  We had no booze, no medications other than those for which we had copies of the prescriptions. We had no contraband. Nada! Nothing!
 
Tom and I looked at each other while I whipped into my sharp defensive mode briskly stating, “What’s the problem, sir?”
 
“It’s your medications, madam,” he shot back as he opened our duffel bag, revealing our bottles of vitamins.
“Do you have prescriptions for these?”
“Sir,” I snapped, feeling the hair on my neck standing up, while my claws came out as I said, “In the US, prescriptions for over the counter vitamin supplements are not required. We have so many of these since we are traveling the world for no less than five years and we can’t receive mail in most places we are traveling.  We’ve brought along all that we’ll need for the next few years.  That’s why we have so many!”
With rubber-gloved hands, they kept examining our vitamins, opening unopened bottles, checking against the open bottles from which we were currently using to ensure we hadn’t hidden illegal substances.
Tom gave me a look that meant, “Settle down.”  I know that look.
 
The security officer, sensing my ire, spoke in a calm voice, “You both have to go to the medical clinic, and see the doctor.”
 
“Why????  We’re not sick!”  I spewed, irritated beyond my own belief.
 
“We have to determine that these drugs are not illegal.”  He sternly states.
 
Off we were trotted, under guard to the medical clinic.  We were seated in “chairs” while a sick person awaited treatment. My thoughts flipped between the germs in the clinic, while I contemplated what jail in Belize would be like. 
 
I could tell Tom was irritated with me, thinking diplomacy would be more effective. Bless his heart, he means
well. Not an ounce of diplomacy was fluttering through my mind.
 
We sat in those chairs for not less than an hour waiting for the doctor. Finally, the doctor came out, an older
gentleman of kindly demeanor, looking more curious about our bag of vitamins than wanting to detain us further. He called us into his office
.
 
Taking a deep breath, as he questioned me as to why we had so many bottles of vitamins, I explained our restrictive diet, Tom’s eight years of use of Vitamin B6 as recommended by his urologist after three kidney stone surgery which has left him free of further incidences, our use of various supplements for bone health, heart health and a Valerian/Melatonin supplements used on occasion to help us sleep.
 
After a series of going back and forth to the opened bag of supplements which were still sitting in the chairs of the sick passengers, the security officer, and a male nurse were not only rummaging through the bag of vitamins but also one of our carry-on bags. There were alarmed by my blood pressure cuff, my ample supply of contact lenses, and my bag of miscellaneous fingernail supplies. 
 
They continued to refer to the supplements as “medications” stating we needed a prescription for each of these.  Then I said once again for the umpteenth time, “These are not prescription items. These are over-the-counter non-prescription supplements.
 
Well-planned in advance, we produced multiple documents from our doctor and travel clinic in Minnesota, specifically stating that these particular supplements were a part of our regular dietary needs, none of which required a prescription. The security officer and the male nurse looked over the documents.
 
Immediately, the security office changed his demands, fumbling over his words, stating that now, their new conditions, that we produce receipts for each and every supplement in the bag.
 
“Who saves receipts for vitamins?  Who needs a receipt for Vitamin C?  I could drink a glass of orange juice for the same dose.” Tom’s foot tapped my calf.  I was enraged.
 
As the doctor finished with his sick patient, the male nurse goes into the doctors’ office and in hushed tones, speaks to him. We can’t hear what he’s saying. A moment later the doctor comes out while scolding the male nurse for the preposterous of this situation. The nurse dashes off, not to be seen again.
 
At that point, the doctor asked us to come into his office. Tom recommended I go in alone, since one of
us had to watch the computer bags and other luggage. 
 
In a calmer manner, I explained our situation to the doctor, who promptly informed me that he’s 82 and doesn’t take any vitamins. Good for him. We do. As I was speaking to the doctor, the security officer was watching me, watching Tom, watching our vitamins, and talking on the phone about our vitamins to some unknown party.  His head was flopping back and forth as if he were watching ping pong game.
 
The doctor walked out of his office, looked into the bag of vitamins asking the security officer, Tom, and I back into his office.  Tom and I followed suit, but the security officer was rambling on the phone about our vitamins.  I was ready to scream. I didn’t.
 
Finally, we’re all back in the doctor’s office while the doctor explains to the security officer that these vitamins are legal, non-prescription items that anyone can purchase over the counter.
 
The security officer was unrelenting, refusing to give us back the supplements. The doctor proposed that
they are to be treated in the same manner as bottles of alcohol, held in security, providing a receipt, and returned to the passenger upon disembarking.
 
The security officer refused the doctor’s recommendation stating that he is going to turn our vitamins over to the police.  I freaked! “No, way! We are not getting a criminal record that follows us around the world, affecting our ability to travel, over vitamins!”  This could put a fast end to our travels!   
 
I freaked out!  At this point, Tom stopped kicking me “under the table.” This was serious.
 
“OK,” I offered, in a feeble attempt to sound under control, “What if we produce all of the receipts for these?”  My mind was spinning thinking I could get them online where I’d made the various purchases in the past year. 
 
He agreed to insist that we’d have to sign a statement certifying that we have no intention of reselling the vitamins and that is for our personal use.
 
The doctor had thrown his hands in the air. It was obvious he was as stymied by this awful experience as we were.
 
The security officer states, “Yes, get me the receipts and we’ll see what we can do.” 
 
At this point, the doctor produced his camera and took a picture of our supplements. Observing this peculiarity,
I immediately pulled out my camera and also took a picture as you can see here.
 
Two hours had passed from the time we boarded the ship until we warily went to the Internet cafe to sign up for service. 
 
A half-hour later we left to attend our scheduled emergency procedure session arranged exclusively for us since we were the only passengers boarding mid-cruise in Belize City. There were four various officers in attendance in the Tapestry Room as we watched a 10-minute video and was shown how to put on our life jackets, along with a description of the location of our “muster station,” a designated meeting point for passengers in an emergency. Fine. Done.
 
By the time we got back to our cabin, yet to receive as much as open a single bag, we showered, and change for dinner. We needed to eat. We hadn’t had a morsel all day. Exhausted, frustrated, and hungry, we fumbled around the cabin looking for clothes to wear to dinner, showering, and getting ready.
 
Our lovely cabin steward’s soft, caring, voice help defray some of my angst, hoping somehow we could get past this and enjoy the rest of the cruise’s remaining 11 days.
 
By 7:30 PM, we were seated at a round table in the Golden Olympian dining room joining a charming couple from Maine. As the conversation escalated, we found ourselves slipping into a more relaxed state, optimistic that we could let this all go, get the receipts in the morning, and be done with the negative experience with the vitamins.
 
The Carnival Liberty is unlike either the of the two Celebrity cruises we’d experienced a few months ago. The service is great, the food quite acceptable, especially as they accommodated my restrictive diet at dinner, the decor, loud and gaudy, but the amenities and activities are many, appealing to a much younger crowd, not necessarily us.  Lots of smoking throughout the ship.
 
Within a few days, we anticipate that we’ll get into a groove enjoying ourselves in whatever we do, as long as we’re together, have running water, a good Internet connection, decent food, and a clean safe environment.  Not much to expect, right?
 
NOT SO FAST!!!
 
By 10:30, we decided to call it a night as masses of passengers were literally jumping up and down, dancing and screaming to the rockin’ music in the various bars. As we entered the glass elevator overlooking one of the bars, people were carrying on to the song, “Celebration” in a mad frenzy. Gosh, we’re old.
We welcomed the sight of the turned-down bed arriving in our cabin after dinner, exhausted and stressed, desperately needing a good night’s sleep.
By 11:00 we were reading our books on the Kindle apps on our phones, finally drifting off. Within minutes of
wandering off into much-needed repose, we both were awakened to a loud thumping and thumping and thumping. 
 
“Do you hear that?” I asked Tom, who is hard of hearing and may not have heard it. 
 
“Yes,” he said, “I can also feel it!” The bed was vibrating with each thump.  The late-night bar one floor below us opened at 11:00 PM to outrageously loud disco music until 2:30 am.
 
Tom, thanks to his hearing loss, was able to dose in and out.  I, on the other hand, a light sleeper, never
slept a wink until finally at 3:00 am, I finally wandered off, exhausted, frustrated, head pounding. I needed an
aspirin. Bad. They were in the bag of vitamins.
We checked today. That music goes on seven nights a week. Oh.
Not much sleep was to be had in this bed last night with the constant thumping of the disco bar one floor below us.
At 7:35 am an announcement came over the loudspeaker, telling us that the ship was in rough waters and may not be able to go into port in Roatan, Honduras. Jolted out of deep sleep, neither of us was able to go back to sleep.

Need I say, we had little motivation or energy to do much of anything today, other than continue to work on the vitamin situation. Exhausted, there was no one hour of pool time, no wandering around the ship exploring every nook and cranny, and only a few photos to share with you today.

 Do we get our vitamins back?  As we write this now, we still don’t know.  Tomorrow, we’ll write again describing “the rest of the story.”

It’s all in the details…Four days and counting…

Natural vegetation around our resort.

Oh, good grief!  Could there be more details to handle before we leave? It’s not as simple as packing our bags and hitting the road.  We knew this going in. 

It’s easy for me to remember how much work it was to handle a single two-week vacation. In 2011, Tom and I went to Hollywood, Florida for a convention. With social events many nights, the packing was challenging. It wasn’t a matter of a few pairs of jeans, shorts, tee shirts, a dress, underwear, and toiletries.

This wooden alligator hand-carved by a local craftsman.  Up close, the detail is riveting with individually hand-carved teeth

Yes, I’ll admit that I like a different outfit and its accompanying accessories every night.  That’s who I am.  People who know me well, get this, teasing me endlessly for my particular nature. However, I’ve tempered my need for a variety of adopting a “mix and match” philosophy, turning one outfit into many.  That seems to work well when traveling. 

Windy, cloudy day today.

So, as of today, my entire travel wardrobe, including shoes, bags, underwear, bathing suits, dress-up and casual wear is situated in two suitcases packed and ready to go.  I did it. I let “stuff” go. Tom has two large equally stuffed bags, packed and ready to go.

Our goal by the time we left Belize, was to have three large bags, packed with the items we’re letting go to send to my sister in Los Angeles to store until we need them. Right now, two of those three bags are packed. The third contains miscellaneous items we can’t let go: prescriptions, medical supplies, steamer, beach towels, etc. 

While sitting at the pool today, we met a lovely newlywed couple, but ran indoors when the skies opened to giant raindrops.

The reality, after days of sorting and resorting, is that we may end up with five large suitcases after we ship two, not three bags to Julie. The rest is carry-on. 

We will fly six times in the next 18 months:  Dubai to Barcelona, Rome to Kenya, Kenya to South Africa, South Africa to Morocco, Morocco to Madeira, Madeira to who knows where? We have 3 1/2 months to “kill” that we haven’t yet planned.) Most of these airlines have recently changed their checked bag policies. 

A few months ago, Emirates Airlines, which we’ll fly on May 21, 2013, from Dubai to Barcelona, allowed two checked bags of 30 kg (66 pounds each). Now it’s down to one bag. The cost for a 2nd bag is in the $100’s if not more depending on the weight. 

We discuss our options such as storage facilities in various locations along the way. We haven’t decided yet, but will soon.

Reading this, I am sure many may think, “GET RID OF MORE STUFF!”  Sounds practical. But, a reality few ever faced, this is everything we own. We have no home to go back to in order to repack. Many world travelers do.  Everything we own is with us in this villa right now.  EVERYTHING!  Oops! Our tax records and documents are stored with son in Nevada. 

The next detail that we finally solved was getting all of our six boarding passes printed. There was some glitch between my sending them via email to the front desk. After several attempts, I contacted our cruise guy, Joaquin, who happened to be on vacation. Alas, our guy came through sending us new PDF documents for all of our cruises.  Tim, at the desk, printed them all.  Now, we’re set all the way through to our cruise on June 4, 2013.

The cruise lines send documents to passengers, which include luggage tags one must print themselves, using sticky paper. Who has sticky paper? Not us. 

Calling the cruise lines using Skype, I verified in each case that we can get luggage tags from the porters when our bags at taken from us at the pier.  On our two earlier cruises this year, they were mailed to us. These cruise lines no longer mail the luggage tags: Carnival, Royal Caribbean, and Norwegian, all of which we’ll be on in the next two months. 

Of course, we have our own permanent luggage tags on each of our bags but cruise lines handle so much luggage, they want the pre-printed cabin number and name on each piece of luggage to avoid delays.  Understandable. 

This morning, Tom stated, “Gee, I wonder what passengers older than us, who don’t have printers or even computers at home, manage to print their documents.”  Good point.  As I mentioned yesterday, electronic documents attached to a person’s passport or other ID would be an ideal solution. 

Yesterday, we confirmed our private shuttle for the four-hour drive to Belize City on Tuesday (on the scary road).  I kindly asked if they could have either the windows open (we couldn’t open them) this time or turn on the AC.   It was 90 humid degrees that day, resulting in four hours of hot sweaty bouncing on the rough, winding,  treacherous road. The owner of the shuttle company promised they’d have AC working.

We’re eating all of our remaining food in the freezer. Tonight, bacon cheeseburgers (no bun), pork chops, and coleslaw, an odd combination. Tomorrow, the same and Sunday, we’ve invited our local friends for homemade low carb GF pizza and salad, our favorite staple for which we have all the ingredients.

Winding down.  I keep telling Tom that within six hours of leaving here at 8:00 am Tuesday morning we’ll be on the ship, unpacking in our cabin on the Carnival Liberty (oh, please Carnival, no incidents!). I say this to comfort myself as well as Tom.

At that point, we can relax looking forward to staying put for 11 days until we switch ships at the pier in Miami for the journey across the ocean on the Norwegian Epic, a huge five-star ship.

There is nothing more we can do today. Soon, we’ll venture out to the pool for our hour of lounging in a lawn chair, dipping in the water every 15 minutes to cool off.  We’ll miss the pool, the staff, the people, our friends, the expanse of the ocean at our door, our time on the veranda, our walks along the beach, the sounds of the birds, and the breathtaking vegetation.

Soon, we’ll have a new place to embrace. It’s all good.