V.C. Williams's Blog

St. John’s, Antigua port and skyline at twilight.

We arrived in Antigua and Barbuda on December 22, 2025. As usual, it was a warm, very sunny day. We had an easy walk into town over a wharf linking the ship with the island. We were hopeful to find an apron for our young friend back home. She loves to cook, sharing her bounty with us often. I’ll never forget when she came to our door with a large container. “I made tortilla soup today, and I have way too much for us.” She handed over the soup, plus sour cream and extra tortilla chips. We got more than two meals from her “too much”! In St. Johns, just days from Christmas, the streets were crowded with shoppers, with narrow streets and sidewalks even more narrow. I had another dumb attack that day and didn’t get any pictures while navigating around town. I think I was more focused on not falling down as the crowd jostled us here and there. We saw several vendors set up under tents, taking up the entire walkway, forcing us to step from steep curbs onto the street. A country familiar with rain, most of the gutters had water in them, and as a short person, stepping down from a steep curb, over the water, and into a street where cars and more pedestrians also crowded in, was an interesting experience. I preferred the streets since the sidewalks weren’t in the best condition. It reminded us of our visit to Sihanoukville, Cambodia, where we had to dodge not only cars, but also motorcycles roaring across the sidewalks at odd places, as we tried to avoid broken concrete chasms with rebar sticking up. I’ll say it again. We Americans are a spoiled bunch, and after experiencing other countries’ hard realities, we have nothing much to complain about.

We went into one shop so Larry could ask where we could find kitchen bib aprons. The man knew exactly what we were looking for and gave us the name of the store, Souls, and directions. We walked a couple of blocks and stood on the street corner looking around, trying to spot the store. To be honest, we weren’t sure of the store name and asked a woman sitting on a concrete bench at the corner. Larry repeated the name, “Souls.” She pointed past Larry’s shoulder at the corner store that we were standing in front of. There it was. It had three steep steps to the door, and I checked it out. Yes, that was the place all right. Larry sat next to the woman who proceeded to tell him her life story. The tiny woman was dressed beautifully and held a shopping bag. She told us she was 87 and was resting her knees. After they had a nice chat, we said goodbye and entered the store. It was dark and cool inside, and the proprietor very kindly sent a man upstairs and brought us three aprons to examine. We decided on one and handed over our Wise debit card. When we were traveling in Brazil, an Australian couple told us about how easy it is to load with however much or little you want, and it doesn’t charge currency conversion fees. It works in most foreign countries, but you can check on their website. We’ve used it all over the place with no problems. We like it because it helps us control our spending. Ha!

I had noticed in the ship’s bulletin that there was a museum in town, and after leaving the store, we walked another block or two, and there it was. The Museum of Antigua and Barbuda was founded in 1985 and resides in the former St. John’s Courthouse, built in 1747 on the site of the first city market and believed to be the oldest building in town. We walked through ancient iron gates and up steps to the big wooden door. Inside, we found a small caged counter where we handed over our $3 each to see the small museum. Since the museum accepts US currency but no credit cards, I gave her a twenty. She examined it every which way and handed it back because one small corner was torn off. I gave her another one, and she gave me my change in US dollars. This museum was tiny but jam-packed with tons of information and displays. Christopher Columbus made contact here in 1493, calling it Santa Maria de la Antigua after a church in Spain. Everyone ignored it until the Spanish decided to colonize it in 1520. They threw off all the indigenous people and left shortly after, leaving the island ignored again until the British showed up in 1627. Years of ups and downs proceeded thereafter, including lack of water, Kalinago attacks, and political jockeying between King Charles the First’s favorite Earls, Carlisle and Marlborough. England’s Civil War, French attacks and occupation, and more political shenanigans finally resolved with the British taking over again in 1668. In the meantime, slaves were being transported to Antigua to work the sugar cane fields.

Betty’s Hope, Antigua – April 22, 2017: A sugar windmill at Betty’s Hope, a former sugar plantation.

Sugar cane is a big plant, growing up to ten feet tall by three feet wide. In the image above, we see the number of slaves necessary just to harvest it. During the centuries of slave labor, there was an average of three slaves for every white person in the Caribbean islands. The work gang was usually supervised by an experienced and trusted head slave, while a white overseer directed from his horse. The owners of the plantation were rarely there, living in England most of the time. Their attorneys managed the estate in their absence. The production of sugar and rum was a huge business. One family, the Codringtons, owned up to seven large-scale plantations, beginning in 1674 through 1944! The slave trade was banned and then later outlawed by Britain in 1834. The freed slaves continued to work for the plantations for wages. Many of the slave “masters” feared for their lives when slavery was abolished, but instead of brandishing weapons, the plantation owners joined their former slaves in their freedom celebrations and thanksgiving church services, making peace. The greedy owners found they could save a lot of money by paying low wages, rather than having to “care” for their slaves, providing housing, clothing, and food. It’s too bad the US slave holders didn’t learn from the British, possibly avoiding our brutal, divisive, and bloody Civil War. We all know the wounds of that war run deep, still in 2026.

Betty’s Hope, Antigua – April 22, 2017: A sugar windmill at Betty’s Hope, a former sugar plantation.

Leaving the museum, we threaded our way back to the ship. A shipmate told us how he had walked to a beautiful beach about a mile down the coast. But, he said, the presence of people living in shacks in “grinding poverty” nearby made him very sad. “Why doesn’t someone build a beach hotel there and give these people jobs?” Yes, why not? Who knows?

I hope you enjoyed reading about our visit to Antigua. Please Like and Comment. Visit my website at https://vcwilliamsauthor.com for more about my writings and books. Thanks for visiting, and I’ll see you next time!

The first stop on our Holiday cruise was Charlotte Amalie in St Thomas. We docked at 8 a.m., but slept in and ordered room service. If you don’t like anything else, this one thing is a fabulous benefit of cruising. We love sitting on our own balcony with croissants, jam, endless coffee, and fresh-squeezed real orange juice or anything else we might prefer. Afterwards, we exited the ship to walk to the main harbor area. However, we were far away, and the walk was very long. After walking about a third of the way there, a security officer drove up and offered us a lift in his luxurious golf cart. My husband started to decline until I spoke up. “Thank You! We’ll take you up on that!” And off we went and were soon deposited at a lovely and colorful area of small shops of every description. I don’t know what I was thinking that day, but I guess I didn’t get any pictures. There were the typical souvenir shops and twice as many jewelry stores. Tell me, please, who shops for jewelry when on holiday? There must be a lot of you, because I’ve witnessed folks laying down their credit card quite often in these places. The prices don’t seem all that great to me, but what do I know? To tell the truth, I don’t wear all the jewelry I already have.

We found a small market where we picked up snacks for me and a bottle of vodka for Larry’s nightly cocktail. He prefers making his own to enjoy on our balcony. He picks up my wine on his way back from the gym, and with our chips, peanuts or whatever crunchy treat we can find, we’re set for an hour or so before we go to dinner. I mentioned in my last post that this little ritual became a very nice time for us as we sat on the balcony, sipping our drinks, reading a good book, and watching the sun set as the ship plowed through the gentle waves on its way to the next island. We both read from a tablet or phone, leaving the overhead light off. One time, we scared our steward when he thought we were out. He was busy turning down our bed when I opened the balcony door, giving him quite a fright. He started apologizing for interrupting us until we finally convinced him that he should continue what he was doing. By the way, on the way back to the ship, the same security guard gave us another lift back to the ship. What a nice guy! We always ask the vendors how the tourists treat them. They are very diplomatic. They smile and say that most are very nice. Which tells me that some can be very demanding. Don’t be that ugly American. One can’t expect everything to be like home. That’s why we travel!

After lunch on the ship, I decided to go to the pool while Larry napped. After changing, I went up top to find a spot. The place was packed, but I found a few empty lounge spaces and stretched out to enjoy the sun. I realized all too soon that I had forgotten my hat. The rest of me was slathered in sunblock, but my poor head was at the mercy of the blazing sun. I was too lazy to go back and get the hat, so I toughed it out. Thank goodness there were a few drifting clouds that provided intermittent shade. After trying to set up the lounge back to a comfortable angle, I remembered why I don’t do this sunbathing thing that often. The back wouldn’t go up very high, and I found myself slouching in the chaise, trying to read and look glamorous all at the same time. Who was I kidding? Besides that, I’d picked a lounge that was right behind the large sign of pool rules, leaving no view at all unless I craned my head to the left or right. To the left, I saw some men ordering drinks frequently as they chatted about the “big game” on TV later. Their wives later joined them after their dip in the hot tub, bringing their drinks with them. The ladies soon dashed off to something else, maybe to learn how to make paper table decorations. To the right was a spectacle that I have a hard time describing. The lady was younger than me by about 30 years (still old enough to know better), and wore a two-piece that displayed her very large tummy, appearing as if she were 9 months pregnant. Trust me, she was not pregnant. Not only that, but she rolled down her bottom piece to get a better tan line…I guess. While trying to unsee this lady, I saw a German couple with their two sons, entering the pool. The mother wore two strips of cloth that barely covered the important areas. I know Americans are known for being prudish, but I was embarrassed for her teenage son. The old guys to my left enjoyed the eyeful, suspending their football chat for a minute or two. After tolerating about as much sun as I could stand, I decided to take a dip in the pool. I swam from one end to the other and climbed out. I packed up and got myself a soft ice cream cone at the Patio Cafe. I think that was the best part of the afternoon.

The next day we arrived at Virgin Gorda. Many had excursions to the famous baths, but we had decided to take the tender and explore on our own. Bad news, it was a Sunday, and most of the town was closed. Some walked a couple of miles to a beach, but we decided to tender back. That afternoon, we heard that tonight was White Nights! Everyone dresses in white, and a huge buffet is laid out. There are people dressed to the nines in white and sequins, and some dressed in white t-shirts and shorts. Everyone gets champagne, and it can be a fun time. Larry and I have done this before, the first time on a cruise to Antarctica. Thankfully, the party took place when we were nearing Buenos Aires on the way home. This time, we arrived later than most but found a table to share with a nice German couple. (Not the pool people) I admit we must be reaching the age where we no longer enjoy ear-splitting canned music. The ship’s band was supposed to appear at some point when the dancing would begin. Larry grumbled that the band must have a contract that allows two-hour breaks between 15-minute sets. When he was playing with a band in Las Vegas back in the day, they were lucky to get a fifteen-minute break each hour. We had already heard this band and weren’t expecting much. Three pieces, and the singer tended to go flat. Everyone else thought they were great. But hoping that time was a one-off, we wanted to give them another chance. But we got tired of waiting and returned to the quiet of our cabin. The food was great, and I enjoyed selecting a delectable dessert, too. We actually danced at our first White Nights party, but we’re not really into it that much. When Larry lived in Tunis when he was 19, he worked at a beach restaurant and then went out dancing for the rest of the night. We usually go to bed earlier these days.

Here are pictures of the Virgin Gorda we didn’t see. I hope you enjoyed my post, and look forward to seeing you next time as I explore the Caribbean and its many delights. I’ll do better with my own photos next time. Like and Comment below.

Check out my website at https://vcwilliamsauthor.com for information on my books and other writings. Have a great day!

We boarded our small cruise ship on December 19, 2025. We’d taken the ‘red eye’ from Phoenix the day before and spent the night in a hotel near the cruise harbor. The flight, as usual, was easy. The airports, as usual, were not. We don’t mind flying at all, it’s the airports we can’t stand. Larry had searched out and found a terrific deal to get us to San Juan. We got First Class seats for about the price of Premium Economy. The only problem: we left at 1 a.m. So we took the shuttle to Phoenix, and after checking our one suitcase, we dragged our carry-on to the Admiral Club, our premium tickets in hand. We knoshed through the buffet line and settled in for a wait. The place was full of others just like us, already bleary-eyed, and we hadn’t even started. At last, we boarded and settled in, hoping for a couple of hours’ sleep. I had been looking forward to the kind of seats that have a footrest, but not on this plane. Those stretch-out seats are only found on the International runs. However, we still got the other perks, such as a nice lunch on the Charlotte to San Juan leg, not to mention lazing in the Admiral Club’s lounge.

With a former commercial pilot sitting next to me, I received updates on when the pilot began his descent into San Juan, as well as other interesting details. The flight attendants were given instructions to secure the cabin, and we all raised our seat backs and tray tables. I peered out the window as Puerto Rico, a US Territory, came into view. Never having been there, I’m fascinated by this green island surrounded by sparkling blue water. We banked around to line up for a landing. The landing gear was down; we’re descending faster. I saw streets and highways, and buildings come into sharp relief. Then, just as I expected the wheels to touch down, we pulled back sharply, max power with our nose now pointed up, gaining altitude as the plane banks left. We’re going around. I looked at my husband and asked the question. Why? He said the runway probably wasn’t clear of aircraft. A short time later, the Captain told us that “weather” close to the ground was to blame. I looked outside and saw only white, fluffy clouds. Maybe a light rain. Very light. My personal pilot told me that the Captain didn’t want to freak everyone out that a plane was blocking our path. So we continued around to line up for landing once again. Larry told me the ‘flying’ pilot (Captain or First Officer) began “hand flying” when the decision was made to go around. Autopilot off. And that’s why knowing how to fly manually is important. Things happen.

After boarding the ship, I took a little stroll. We’d been on this ship twice before and were familiar with the general layout. One of my favorite places was Deck 5, where one could get a specialty coffee and snacks almost any time of day. The coconut macaroons were deadly if you’re watching your sugar. I was talked into taking two. In one area, the crew had set up a miniature Christmas Village, complete with a train and gingerbread houses. Christmas trees were everywhere, adding to the earnest attempt to convey Christmas while cruising through the islands of the Caribbean. I have to admit that even with the decorations, it wasn’t the same. I thoroughly enjoyed our cruise, but there’s no place like home for Holidays! I stood on our balcony and viewed the harbor, nicer than some I’ve seen, feeling anxious to get underway to our first port of call.

Our big suitcase arrived, and I had everything sorted out and stored in no time. I’ve become a seasoned traveler and have figured out what works and what doesn’t. I don’t always get it right since I found myself shuffling things around a couple of times in the days ahead. My beautiful daughter-in-law gave us a pack of magnet hooks that we have used on many journeys. We use them to hang up hats or walking sticks out of the way, as well as shopping tote bags. Not that we’re big shoppers, but we do like to visit markets to find those snacks we like with our evening glass of wine or cocktail. We fell into a lovely routine on this cruise that I miss now that we’re home. After Larry returned from his workout and steam at the gym, we’d sit out on the balcony with our drinks and snacks and read from our tablets or books while the ship pulled anchor and headed out to sea. We sipped, snacked, and read while watching the sunset. Every night it was different. Sometimes we had to retreat if rain blew us inside, but usually, all we had to do was shove our chairs over and continue reading, enjoying the peace of the sea air and views. As we left San Juan, I took pictures of the ancient Castillo San Felipe de Morro, a 16th-century fortress erected by the Spanish beginning in 1540. With numerous additions throughout time, it is a maze of barracks, outposts, tunnels, dungeons, and lookouts. I would have liked to have visited it. Maybe next time.

I will leave you with a glimpse of our next port, Virgin Gorda, and another view of our Christmas Village. You’re probably confused by the “roughing it” part. On this ship, the internet was a hefty fee that we decided to take a pass on. So no Wi-Fi for WhatsApp phone calls. I missed that a lot, but we managed to do just fine. Sometimes unplugging is a good thing. I found that when we were on shore, depending on where we were, I could get online and text my loved ones or update FB with a quick post. I saw too many buried in their phones. That’s no way to “holiday”! Take it from me. We didn’t suffer.

If you enjoyed my musings on cruising today, give me a “Like” or a comment. Visit my website at https://vcwilliamsauthor.com to check out my books and other updates. Go to Contact if you have questions or more comments. Thanks and I’ll see you next time.

During our 2018 Moroccan trip, we took the train from London to Paris and then to Barcelona. But when we arrived at Gibraltar, an English-speaking British territory, I had to reveal my talons for the first time. It’s a bit of a story, so sit back and enjoy the read.

After visiting Barcelona, we realized our timeline would force us to zip through the rest of Spain with one short overnight stop in Madrid. Again, our hotel booking source let us down with photos and descriptions that didn’t match reality. I admit, I failed to read the traveler comments. I should not have dismissed them, and that’s my advice to you. Don’t. I still believe that travelers’ comments are usually made by high-maintenance folks who expect champagne on a beer budget. However, spending time reading the reviews can be helpful. I didn’t do that. The hotel we reserved in Madrid turned out to be a hostel. We were the oldest folks in the place, and I think the host took pity on us and gave us a nice room with a private bath. We were grateful, indeed. However, if one was late getting back after a “night on the town”, or just dinner out in our case, one had to wrestle with a tricky lockup system to get back inside. After a few frustrating minutes, we finally succeeded and all was well.

When we arrived in Madrid, our taxi driver was not able to go down the street to our “hotel”, but had to drop us about a block away because of construction. That wasn’t too bad and we were able to scope out the shops and restaurants that we may want to explore later on. The next morning, we walked in the opposite direction, dragging our luggage through a small town square where folks were having coffee and reading the news. Sadly, we had no time to stop and chat, but trudged on to a taxi stand nearby. Before long, we were on the train to Algeciras at the southern edge of Spain on the Mediterranean. From there, we took a bus to the Gibraltar border. We did a lot of walking to the bus and from the bus to the border (Larry remembers the bus driver as especially rude), where we walked some more to the customs station, and finally arrived on a street overlooking the Rock of Gibraltar. We assumed (you know what ‘assume’ means ) that taxis would be available once we went through customs. No, they weren’t. We walked some more. I don’t remember why I didn’t retrieve our hotel reservation and call them for a pickup. But I didn’t. Or maybe I did with negative results. We finally stumbled (really stumbling by now) onto a sign that had the numbers of various taxi companies. We called a few with no answers, but finally succeeded. We waited for what seemed a very long time before the guy showed up. We heaved a sigh of relief as we fell into the back seat. We told him where we wanted to go, and what do you think he said? “That hotel? It’s pretty old. I rarely take anyone there.” We shook our heads and confirmed that’s where we wanted to go.

The first thing we saw upon arrival? STAIRS from the street to the main entrance. I looked for a ramp, but there wasn’t one. (We silly entitled Americans) Because of Larry’s injured knees, stairs were anathema. But we managed to get into the lobby, and our host seemed none too happy to see Americans in her establishment. We stood there for probably two minutes or more, her only customers, while she and her husband had a spat around the corner from the check-in counter. Very uncool. When she handed over our key, I asked if the bath had a shower or a tub. “Of course, there is a shower in all our rooms, inside the tub.” Arguing would mean finding another hotel, and we weren’t up to it. Then I asked how to find the elevator for the second floor. “There is no elevator to that floor. You’ll have to take the stairs.” (This is where the talons came out.) I glared at her. She seemed unfazed that Larry was standing behind a walker. “The stairs aren’t that steep.” After a firm discussion, we were given a third-floor room which was accessible by elevator. Finally, in the room, I checked out the bathroom. The tub rim was the highest I’d ever seen. I could barely get into it with two good knees! Oh well. The unexpected joys of travel. It’s all an adventure, right?*** By the way, the following pictures are from my exploration of the caverns carved inside The Rock, from where Brits guarded the Straits of Gibraltar during WWII. The people you see are mannequins. It was muggy, musty, and incredibly fascinating.

Later that afternoon, we went exploring and found a small shopping district close by. Larry was hoping to find the music store where he and his mother found his first drum kit back when they were living in Morocco. He was sure the store was called “The Red Room” and that it was on that street. Larry vaguely remembered the area, but the store was gone. He asked a guide later about the store, and the man remembered there had been such a music store in Gibraltar. We stopped for a snack at an outdoor cafe before returning to our luxurious accommodations. We passed a shaded square where workmen were taking a break under a large tree. I can’t remember what they were working on, but Larry stopped and talked to them a while. All of them were from Spain and appeared to be happy working in Gibraltar. They said the money was good.

The next day, we found a bus tour that took us all over the 2.6 square mile territory. On one side was a huge white mosque with a tall minaret, where the bus stopped for about 15 minutes for a rest stop. I’ve included some pictures of our 2022 visit, too, which add to the sites to be seen in this small, intriguing place. I have to say that our overall experience in Gibraltar was not that friendly, which was unexpected and surprising. Most locals we met were abrupt and unsmiling. Our experience on this particular journey had been the opposite. I have no explanation for it. The bus took us around the back and up the twisting road to the top of Gibraltar, where the views were spectacular. Many tourists were winding their way up, too, and when we were held up in traffic, the notorious Gibraltar Barbary Macques, wild, free-ranging, and tailless monkeys, playfully jumped to open windows, chattering away and holding out their little hands. One tried his best to crawl past the bus driver and into the bus, searching for any treats the tourists might have handy. But the driver managed to prevent him from getting very far. These monkeys have been part of Gibraltar for centuries.

When we stopped for the tour inside the Rock, Larry said he’d wait for me outside. The only problem, unknown to us, was that the tour group exited at a different place, far from where we entered. Our group had no guide, but were allowed to freely zig-zag throughout the many rooms that were used by the troops garrisoned there during WWII. We exited at a spot overlooking the Atlantic where big guns, still in place, guarded the Straits between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. Not knowing what to do, our small group of about six or seven followed a dirt road down a steep hill to where we thought the bus would pick us up. All the while, I’m worrying about my husband, sitting and wondering where the heck we are. The bus finally showed up and, again, the talons came out to ensure the driver drove back to pick up Larry, patiently waiting all alone, for our return. The whole thing wasn’t very well organized. Come to think of it, this kind of thing has happened too many times in our travels. I’ll tell you all about it sometime.

These are pictures from our 2022 cruise. Larry and I were talking about why our first experience in Gibraltar was so unfriendly. He thinks that because so many of these places are overwhelmed with tourists, especially from cruise ships, they have become somewhat intolerant, even though income from tourism is huge. I’m sure you may have read that some popular European destinations have begun to limit the number of cruise ships allowed. I can understand that. In our travels, we’ve been astounded at the number of tourists, especially Americans, clogging the streets of beautiful, historic places.

I’ll finish with pictures of the only place in the world where a major highway intersects an international airport runway. The one on the left is a photo I took as our bus drove over the runway. Pretty incredible! Despite having to get tough a couple of times, I’m not sorry we visited this fascinating, historical corner of this marvelous world we live in. Learning and exploring are always good. I hope you enjoyed my travel memories. Like and comment below or visit my website at: https://vcwilliamsauthor.com/ I’ll see you next time!

In March 2018, we traveled by train from Paris to Barcelona. It is 516 miles and might have taken over eight hours to get there. We arrived at the Paris train station early, and while we waited for our train, we enjoyed croissants and freshly squeezed orange juice. I don’t know why we don’t have those marvelous orange-squeezing machines in the US! I never tasted any orange juice this good before. Raised on the frozen concentrate kind and later on quart jugs found in the grocery store, I had no idea what fresh-squeezed orange juice really tasted like. What makes this story ironic is that when I lived in Mesa, Arizona, I was surrounded by orange groves. I certainly wasn’t going to hand-squeeze the oranges. Why didn’t I see them in Denny’s or Coco’s restaurants? Well, I’m spoiled now. I’ve enjoyed it again in our other travels, but that first experience in the Paris station remains the best. I wonder what kind of oranges they used?

We finally boarded the train for our long journey. I don’t remember when we arrived or where we stayed, but the next day, we did our usual and walked to where we could find the Hop On Hop Off to see the city of Barcelona. It is a gorgeous city, with many city squares scattered throughout. At this time, Larry was hobbling on a walker with a recovering knee stress injury that he suffered while recovering from his other kneecap fracture/surgery. Stuff happens. Before we left on this journey, he got a cortisone shot and a knee brace. He did well, but because Larry doesn’t like his picture taken, I have several of the walker instead. He thought that since our last name is Walker, that would be a good substitution. Another irony.

We hopped on the bus and wandered around, getting off at the intricate, incredible Sagrada Familia, the work of architect Antoni Gaudí. The building began in 1882 under the guidance of Francisco de Paula del Villar. He resigned in 1883, and Antoni Gaudí transformed it into his vision, with Gothic and curvilinear Art Nouveau forms. When he died in 1926, the church was less than a quarter complete. With private donations funding it and allowing for interruptions for wars, the work continues. It is hoped this massive work of art may be completed in 2026. And it is massive. We were fortunate to return to Barcelona in 2022, when we visited this cathedral for most of a day. We still didn’t see all its corners, naves, and spiral staircases. Everywhere one looks, one sees incredible carvings, delicate figures, flowers, stars, and endless dioramas of Biblical scenes. It’s an active church, too, with a magnificent altar, and pews where one can sit all day if you like. My neck began to hurt as I craned my head in every direction, far up to the ceiling, following impossible strands of concrete arches and columns unlike anything I’d ever seen.

When we left, there was more to see outside! The entire edifice is a monument to Gaudí’s imagination and incredible designs. I don’t know what the All-Mighty thinks about such structures. The early church, as seen in the Bible, was content with a seat on the floor in someone’s home or a rock or tuft of grass near a river or lake.

There was so much to see, it was hard to pull away from this place. But we continued with our Hop On Hop Off and saw more of Barcelona. We enjoyed the scenic drive along the harbor finally hopped off to find some lunch at a beautiful marina where a whole line of outdoor restaurants bordered the marina. We examined the menus for each and made our choice. Thinking back, I don’t know why I snapped some pictures but missed others. I’ve always been told that pictures are more interesting if people are in them. People we know. But there are times when the splendor of a particular place requires no one to interfere with its beauty. I need more of that sometimes. Don’t we all?

We enjoyed our visit to Barcelona and would love to see more of it. These visits were just too short to do it justice. I hope you enjoy my memories of our travels, and that you will return again. Like and Comment or visit my website at: https://vcwilliamsauthor.com/

By the way, I have a new ‘Cozy’ murder mystery available on my website. DREAM OF A MURDER. It’s about a retired couple on a world cruise who get a little too nosy when their neighbor is thrown overboard in the dead of night and a friend gets beaten up in Cadiz. Check it out! It’s murderous fun. Find more information here!

I have always wanted to see Paris and…No, not die, but to wander its avenues and smell the chestnuts in the rain. To be honest, I could say almost the same thing about any iconic place in the world. My husband always says travel isn’t the destination but the anticipation. I totally disagree. Travel that involves going anywhere more than a hundred miles from home isn’t a simple, no-brainer process for me. Preparing to be away from home for than a few days causes me stress, and the older I get, the more stressful it is. I hate packing, ticking off my endless lists, and making sure we have clothes to fit the climate, enough meds, and chargers for our electronics. Not to mention our Passports, reservation info, and other necessary paperwork. I’m old-fashioned and haven’t completely transitioned to digital. What if I lose my phone, or what if it crashes? Traveling light? Hah! On this trip, we tried it and I think we did pretty well. But when I slung that backpack over my shoulders, I felt like I was hauling a load of cut marble down the mountain for Michelangelo to carve. You can’t believe the stuff I crammed in there. Instead of liquid shampoo, I packed the nifty bar shampoo – so much lighter and smaller. Pfft. I didn’t use it once. I made a clothesline out of rubber bands so I could hang up my rinsed-out undies and fast-dry pants and tops. I used it once in our rustic but nice hotel in Marrakech where I scoured the streets for an ATM.

OK, I’ll quite complaining. The anticipation of travel isn’t fun, but once I’m on my way, I can’t be happier. It’s too late to turn back, and my brain quickly moves from stress level to relaxation. After traveling via the Chunnel from London, we arrived in Paris late in the afternoon. By the time we got a taxi, the lights of the city were like starbursts as we drove to our hotel. I didn’t want to miss a thing. No, we didn’t stay in a luxury hotel near the French Quarter or any quarter that I remember. What I remember is the kindness of our host and the familial, cozy atmosphere of the tiny hotel blocks away from the Sacre-Coeur. As we traveled from the train station, we drove near overhead railway tracks, and as trains passed by, the clacking of the wheels gave us their greeting to this ancient, beloved city, filled with diverse cultures and people from all over the world. I found it enchanting. After checking in, the young clerk, an immigrant from Tunisia, showed us to the lift, a caged affair, barely big enough to fit three adults and our luggage. It reminded me of the hotel elevator scene from Charade, filmed in Paris. Our room was bigger than the one Audrey Hepburn had, spacious with large paned windows and a lovely bathroom that was almost bigger than the one I had at home. The fixtures weren’t up to date, but they worked just fine and added to the Parisian ambiance. The next day we walked to a small cafe for buttery croissants and café au lait. We sat outside under some trees (mandatory), enjoying the views and just being there. Ahh… Paris!

That evening we had a reservation for a dinner cruise on the Seine. (Just like Audrey and Cary’s in Charade!) We hoped for a window seat, but another couple got there earlier. We were seated with two couples, tourists like us. Both couples were American and, like us, from the Southwest! We had a wonderful time gliding down the river and being served a lovely three-course dinner. It was fun and I highly recommend it. The views were heavenly, especially as the sun began to set. Getting pictures was difficult, but I did my best.

The next day, we had a lunch reservation on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower at the Madame Brasserie restaurant. We took a taxi, and there it was in all its glory. It’s so much larger than I imagined. There was some construction of some kind going on, and the entrance from the street was blocked off. So, with Larry still nursing his bad knee, I trotted around the back to figure out where we needed to go. After navigating over a makeshift path of grass, dirt, and concrete, I found the entrance to the tower and walked back to where Larry was patiently waiting. We were soon on an elevator to the restaurant, and again, I was a little disappointed we didn’t have a clear view of the city from our table. But that didn’t stop me from wandering around to find those views. It was spectacular. Across from our table was a French couple who were also visiting Paris. Larry struck up a conversation with them, and when he said we were Americans, they were confused because Larry’s French is so perfect. Of course, if they had heard me talk, they wouldn’t be confused anymore.

After our delicious lunch, we stepped outside to enjoy the views from our iconic perch. Sadly, just about every outside railing was screened in for safety’s sake. Its too bad that is necessary. It was a beautiful day and we couldn’t have asked for more. After wandering around there for a while, we came down the elevator and decided to take a Hop On Hop Off around the city. So, back to our winding path to the main street where we’d seen a ticket kiosk for the bus tour.

We sat back and viewed all the beautiful sights of Paris, Notre Dame, the Moulin Rouge, the Louvre with its glass pyramid, and many more. Driving through the busy streets of Paris was exciting, and I remembered my son telling me about their driving trip to Paris when he and his wife were living in Germany with the Army. My daughter-in-law was pregnant and they got caught in the notorious traffic ring, known as la Périphérique, around the Arc de Triomphe, where twelve lanes of traffic merge into one crazy roundabout near the Champs-Élysées. Round and round they went until she couldn’t take it anymore and began to cry. I believe she wondered if she would end up giving birth in that endless ring of traffic! Our bus went through that roundabout, too, and it was mystifying how anyone unfamiliar with it can survive. But these adventures are a gift, and it’s why we love to travel.

Our visit to Paris was over too soon, as our train to Spain was waiting. We hope we will return someday and spend more time there. And maybe it will be the right season to smell chestnuts roasting. I hope you enjoyed my memories of Paris! Like and comment, or visit me at https://vcwilliamsauthor.com/. I’ll see you next time!

In 2018, we took a challenging and exciting journey from London to Morocco. We thought we had every detail of travel, hotels, sights to see – everything planned and ready to go! We even booked dinner on a Seine river cruise and lunch at a restaurant on the second floor of the Eiffel Tower! We flew to London and took a taxi to our booked hotel near the train station, from where we would take a train through the Chunnel to Paris. We’d both been to London before, and the idea of going to Paris this way was too exciting to resist. How fun is that? We figured out an itinerary of stops, and I spent many hours searching for moderately priced hotels at each place. Of course, Larry thought sleeping on a park bench, like he did when he first visited London at the age of eighteen, would be fine. Big NO on that idea. I used a well-known online booking service and thought everything was in good shape. When the taxi dropped us off at our hotel, our first thought was that we had the wrong address. No hotel we’d ever seen looked quite like that. (Except for one in Argentina – another depressing story.) We checked in and were given a key to our room. The way the front desk clerk greeted us, one would think we were checking into a prison. That should have been our first clue. As usual, Larry asked for extra pillows. Zilch. Is there a restaurant nearby? Shrug. The only thing it had was an elevator, and with Larry’s bad knee, we were grateful. Ever the optimists, we were sure the room couldn’t be all bad. We had no idea what we were in for.

We opened the door and gasped. Our room was smaller than the one above, and not this nice. This is the same hotel, but after our review, they must have spruced it up a bit. Or maybe they’re still using the same pictures that suckered us in the first place. It was a small space with no table. It might have had a chair. It was claustrophobic. A 3/4 twin-sized bed was shoved against the wall, with no windows, and no closet, not even a hook or two. That bed made me think of the movie Barefoot In The Park, where the newlyweds’ bedroom was too small for a full bed. That is where the similarity ended. I examined the bed, and the sheets seemed reasonably clean. But really, who knows? The walls weren’t this clean, but it did have a TV on the wall. The adjoining bathroom was larger than the bedroom. One wall was devoted to the “walk-in” shower with no curtain. I think there were four thin towels, but we needed two to mop up. There was nothing to prevent water from flowing into the rest of the bathroom, which was probably the plan since another drain was in the middle of the room. If we had not been completely exhausted after our long flight from Phoenix, we would have left. In hindsight, the park bench might have been a better option. I raged at the online site and looked at my printed reservation. Of course, the pictures were nothing like the real thing. Larry called to see if there was a better room. Of course, they were “booked up”. Ha! We left to find a place to eat and, upon our return, asked the clerk to call a taxi for us the following morning at a certain time. He nodded and appeared to make a note. Helpful. We slept right to left that night, hoping nothing creepy would awaken us.

We survived the night and were downstairs early, eager to escape our cell with the electrocution-friendly swamp. Larry asked if our taxi had been ordered. Yes, of course. It will be here soon. We waited. We went out to the sidewalk. And waited. Larry asked again and got a shrug. We decided to walk because the station was only a few blocks away. Thankfully, an empty taxi came along and we flagged it down. With Larry on a walker and me hauling the luggage, it wouldn’t have been a pleasant stroll. We arrived at St. Pancras International Station. That’s when our stay in London improved dramatically. We walked in, searching for where to go next. We were barely in the door when a customer service agent approached, asking if Larry would like a wheelchair. He scowled, but I convinced him that it would be easier for both of us. The young lady was more than accommodating and offered to take us to a lounge to wait, suggesting that coffee and croissants were available for free. What was even better, Larry detected her French accent, and before you knew it, he heard her life story, and she became our new best friend. We made ourselves comfortable in the lounge, a very nice area, and we were soon served. We were quite early for our train, so the snack was a nice treat. The agent left, saying she would return when it was time for our train and would take us there herself. It was great!

We were soon escorted to our train, and we settled in, ready for the fun experience of traveling under the English Channel and on to Paris. At first, we saw London cityscapes and then the English countryside, the tracks running behind houses and buildings, and I looked over fences into people’s gardens. Then the sounds and the light in the train changed. We were in the Chunnel! I don’t remember how long the journey was, but it was not as long as one might think. We were now viewing the French countryside. Even though it didn’t look a whole lot different than the English countryside, it was a surreal experience for me. This was my first time in France, and I examined every farm, every cottage, every highway, and every vehicle. To me, it was different. I wanted to soak it in as only a first-time visitor can. I was disappointed when we slowed down as we entered Paris, approaching the station. I didn’t want it to end quite yet. After our dreadful hotel experience, this train trip swept away all those ugly images. I wasn’t ready to let go of our lovely train journey. Since we booked our hotel in Paris on the same online site, I was worried about what we would find. However, I was prepared to insist on another hotel if we were similarly disappointed. I don’t require much and certainly don’t require luxury. My grandparents were cotton farmers in the Arizona desert during the Great Depression, and I learned to make the most of what we had, a little or a lot. As long as it’s clean and safe, that’s all we need.

It was a relief to arrive in Paris. We took a cab to our hotel, and it was small, but the room made me think of an opera set, like La Boheme, a garret high above the city. No more flooded bathrooms and a bed to stretch out in. The young man on the front desk was friendly and helpful. What a relief! We walked outside and saw the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur de Montmartre right at the end of our street.

We had lots of plans for our stay in Paris. Managing a walker made it interesting. Check back next time and see what happens! Thanks for reading my post! Please leave a Like and Comment. Visit my website and sign up to receive regular updates. https://vcwilliamsauthor.com/

Back in October 2018, Larry and I had a wild idea to make a train journey. We’d done road trips with our fifth wheel and a few cruises. But we wanted to do something special. Larry spent his teenage years in Rabat when his father was with USAID. He wanted to show me Morocco and the places he loved. We decided to fly to London and take the train from there. We visited many beautiful places, which will appear in future travel posts. This entire trip turned out a little more challenging than we anticipated. When we planned it, we thought Larry would be completely recovered from his broken patella. Not quite. That knee was better, but in the recovery period, he stress-fractured the other one. But that was not enough for us to delay this trip. No, sir! Not us.

Arriving in Algeciras, we took a taxi to a hotel complex where we were told we could catch a bus at 2 a.m. to the ferry terminal. The taxi dumped us at the hotel, and we went into the lobby to wait for the bus. Not our first mistake. We waited and waited. Larry found out we were in the wrong place and we had missed the bus. Oh no! We hired a taxi, confident we would make the ferry. The taxi driver must have taken the scenic route. We traveled for miles and miles and finally arrived at the ferry terminal just as the ferry was finishing boarding. Not only that, but the tide was out and we had to walk a long distance to the boarding ramp. With my backpack and dragging a roller bag, I raced ahead so the ferry didn’t leave before Larry could make it to the ramp. As I climbed aboard, I saw a taxi drive up to deposit two primo passengers. Larry was about halfway to the ramp, and the crew was ready to pull it up. My pointing and agitation convinced them to wait a few more minutes. But it all worked out. Our luggage was stowed, and we settled in for the two-hour ride to Tangier. We got some coffee and watched the sun come up over the Mediterranean. The long day faded away.

In Tangier, a taxi took us to an old, shabby train station next to a beautiful new train station, which was not yet open. The old railroad terminal, if you can call it that, had no snack vendors or machines. There was nothing to eat, which was disappointing. They also did not take credit cards, and we had used most of our Moroccan cash for the train tickets. I took off walking to find an ATM. Since it was still early, the streets were practically empty, and everything was closed. Some people came by and I asked for the nearest bank or ATM. With their direction, I finally found one, got my cash, and hurried back to the train station. It was unsettling walking around a quiet, empty city, as if it had been evacuated and we didn’t know why. Finally, on the train, we passed through Kenitra. When Larry’s family first moved to Morocco, they lived in Kenitra, where Larry attended high school at the US Naval base there. Except for the sign above, Larry wouldn’t have known we were there. The town was unrecognizable. The Rabat of Larry’s youth was also long gone. Too many cars and buildings. We finally arrived in Rabat, and after settling into our hotel, I found a cafe around the corner and brought back roasted beef kababs with curried couscous. Larry felt at home.

The next day we rented a car and drove around. Larry wanted to find his old house. We got lost, instead. But it was fun. That’s what travel is for, right? We drove toward Fez, stopped for lunch, where we enjoyed a scrumptious tagine meal. I thought I’d seen some trucks here in Arizona piled high with hay bales. We have nothing on the Moroccans. It’s hard to see, but this small truck was piled so high I was sure it would tip over in a slight breeze. And by the way, even though there are striped lanes on the highways, no one pays attention to them, especially away from the cities. We’d try to pass one of the piled-up trucks when, at the last minute, it would veer over toward our little car. We had to keep a sharp watch for sure. When we returned to Rabat, we made another stab at finding Larry’s neighborhood. We wandered around with no success. Finding ourselves in the heart of the city, we also noticed that many streets had no signage. We had no idea where we were. Waiting at a stoplight, Larry yelled out to a cabbie in Arabic. He asked if the man knew where our hotel was. The man smiled and said, “Follow me.” I believe he had a fare in his backseat, too, but we followed him right to our hotel. Larry thanked him, and he drove away.

We left Rabat and decided to drive to Marrakech and spend the night. When planning this trip, we were going to backpack. Larry’s knee intervened. Traveling light and cheap, I had a clothes line and soap. I tried that out in our downtown hotel bathtub in Marrakech. Clothes hung all over the place, and it worked! With clean clothes, we drove out the next day toward the edges of the Sahara and the Atlas Mountains. The road south was being rebuilt, and we crawled through massive construction and detours through the mountains. We stopped at a cafe at the top, where we ate French fries. We probably ate something else, too, but that’s all we remember. There was a patio that overlooked the valley below, and I got a picture of a cat dangling in a tree over a drop-off. He seemed perfectly content. We drove on but decided to stop at a little B&B oasis that I found listed on my phone. We called and they had a room for the night. We got directions to our turn-off, but the road became a maze of huts and alleyways, and again, we were lost. We began to have second thoughts. A man on a motor scooter asked if we needed help. He looked like the guy with the monkey from the first Indiana Jones movie. We were Americans, and he thought he would get a big tip. Larry bargained with him, and he reluctantly agreed to lead us to the B&B tucked away in a grove of palm trees. It was a beautiful place. The couple who owned it were French and enjoyed talking French with Larry. I was happy just trying to figure out what they were talking about. It’s a lovely language.

We would have liked to stay another night, but they were booked, so after a wonderful breakfast, we packed up to do some more sightseeing. Everywhere we saw women leading a donkey loaded with twigs, I suppose to sell. Other women set up tables to sell dyed silk scarves. We headed for Ouarzazate. It is a desert town well known for its movie studio. Many movies have been made there over the years. Lawrence of Arabia, The Man Who Would Be King, The Last Temptation of Christ, The Living Daylights, Gladiator, and many others were filmed here. Ouarzazate was once a main crossing point for traders into northern Morocco and Europe. We found it modern and a great place to stock up on snacks and other traveling supplies. The hotel where we spent the night was also run by a French couple who were friends with our previous night’s hosts. When we drove up to a large, wooden gate in the middle of a tall wood fence, somehow our host knew we were there and appeared to help us with our luggage. He escorted us to a small covered reception area near the pool, where we were served tea and pastries. It was delightful.

The hotel had a small dining room where dinner and breakfast were served every day. I don’t remember what we ate, but it was all good. After our night there, we decided to splurge on a “nice” hotel for two or three days before our flight back to London. I don’t know why I don’t have any pictures of the place, but I did get one of Larry relaxing at the pool. It was a lovely place, but I remember now that our walk-in shower flooded the entire bathroom. I had to bank it with towels all the time. Just like our super cheap hotel in London. That’s another story. Going into town, we passed a guy offering camel rides. Larry convinced me to stand near the camel for a picture. I wasn’t too enthused, but I did it. Oh, here’s a picture of a truck carrying two or three layers of sheep. The way that guy was careening around the curves, we were sure our windshield would get splattered with one. We survived. It’s all good adventure! I won’t tell you about the woman we almost ran over. It seems pedestrians just walk into the street, no matter what the traffic or the traffic cop is doing. Scary.

That was a great trip. Even with the knee and the unplanned events, we had fun and are so glad we did it. Stay tuned for future posts about the rest of the trip. Like and comment if you want to share a thought or question. Thanks! Visit my website to sign up for future posts and information about my other writings. https://vcwilliamsauthor.com/

On August 6, 2024, we visited Heimaey in the Westman Islands of Iceland. We arrived at our expedition ship in Reykjavik on the 5th and sailed south to this small town that is a little challenging to get to. After circumnavigating Iceland, we arrived at Heimaey a second time from the east. Heimaey’s harbor may be entered and exited by one way only. Our captain guided our small ship through a narrow channel, bordered by high cliffs on either side, like in the photo above. To make it more interesting, the Captain backed the ship in since there was no room to turn around in the small harbor. Larry and I stood on our little balcony and twisted our heads back and forth as the ship inched its way into the harbor. It was quite narrow about halfway through, but the channel finally widened into the harbor where we docked for a beautiful, sunny day of exploring.

The morning of the 6th, Larry brought me a coffee. I was so impressed with the size of the ceramic cup, I took a picture of it. I have traveled all over the place, and this is the first time my husband brought me a coffee that wasn’t in a paper cup. Not only that, but the coffee was to my exact order. I was soon spoiled. Later, we boarded a bus to view this small place of beauty and remarkable history. We drove by a golf course and viewed volcanic islands that host teams of geologists every year. Remote with barely room to pitch a tent, they come regularly, finding all kinds of geological wonders that reveal the history of these islands.

We continued our drive to the spot where we could see the puffins. The guide told us the area was a traditional nesting area, and we should be able to see a lot of puffins. These are seabirds that feed by diving into the ocean. They are short, stocky birds known for their unusual and colorful beaks. They love to swim but also fly. They flap their wings rapidly, about 400 times a minute, as they fly low over the ocean’s surface. There was a walkway from the parking lot, up a steep incline to a little viewing shed/platform where we could view the puffins and take pictures. We were warned to keep our distance, but the more adventurous decided to ask for forgiveness and jumped barriers to crawl down the side of the grassy slope, full of rocks and crags, to get a better photo of the puffins. If one got too close, the puffins flapped their short wings and ran away. But no one fell into the ocean, broke a leg or scared too many puffins. We got our pictures and hiked back to the bus. Like penguins, it’s fun to see these animals in their natural surroundings.

Next, we visited a very unusual museum, nestled at the base of a huge cliff that marked the stopping place of a destructive lava flow. Edfell Volcano, or in Icelandic, Hill of Fire, erupted on January 23, 1973. The Eldhiemar Museum, opened in 2014, is unique in that it was built over the ruins of a house that was physically dug out from the lava. Another house, still partially buried, stands near the entrance. It was strange to view the shell of this house, with odds and ends of furniture and kitchen implements amid burned walls, heaps of ash, and leftover lava deposits. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. In addition to this relic, the museum displayed photos and video reenactments of the eruption. It was a desperate situation for the 5000 residents since the massive lava flow threatened to block the harbor. Reliant on the fishing industry for their income, it would be disastrous for the people of Heimaey.

After leaving the museum, we drove through the vast lava fields and saw how close the town was to total destruction. After temporarily evacuating the population in Winter in the middle of the night, a feat in itself, pumps were brought in to pump seawater directly into the advancing lava flow to protect most of the town and the harbor. One of these life-saving pumps is on display, as shown above. The photo to the right shows how close the lava got to wiping out the town. Even with about 400 homes destroyed, the residents were not defeated. They used heat from the cooling lava flows to provide hot water and electricity. They used the extensive ash or tephra to extend the town’s small airport runway. There was so much of the stuff, it was also used for landfill, on which 200 homes were built. Now that’s turning lemons into lemonade.

On our return visit almost a month later, we walked around the town and visited a SeaLife Beluga Whale Sanctuary. The sanctuary received two 12-year-old female belugas from Shanghai Chengfeng Ocean World Zoo. The 34,455 sq ft, 30 ft deep open-air holding pool near the harbor is perfect for the whales to swim, dive, and explore. There is also a museum where we viewed the whales, plus plenty of sea birds. The sanctuary also conducts a puffin rescue every year when the young puffins, trying their wings, fly into buildings and windows, knocking themselves to the ground. Citizens are prepared and gather up the stunned baby puffins to deliver to the sanctuary to be examined before they are safely released.

We enjoyed our visit to Heimaey, and I highly recommend it to any of you with a hankering to see Iceland. The people are friendly, and the Island is filled with beauty everywhere you go. I just wish there was a better way to get there other than taking Icelandic Air. (Another story) Too bad there isn’t an affordable ferry! I hope you enjoyed my post. See you next time. Visit my website at https://vcwilliamsauthor.com/ to sign up for future blogs and other writing updates.

In late 2021, we decided to take a World Cruise. We flew to Fort Lauderdale and boarded our ship on Christmas Eve. 2021. Yes, it was a crazy idea, but it gave us a chance to see parts of the world that we might never have the opportunity to see. Part of the desire was also wrapped up in the serious need to “get out of town” after living through the crazy, scary 2 years of COVID. This cruise line was willing to venture forth if we passengers were willing to comply with their strict rules. First, we had to provide documentation that we were fully vaccinated and agree to comply with their unusual shipboard edicts. Considering that several countries in the world were still locked down, and that hundreds of thousands of deaths were reported in the US alone, we were lucky to be able to go anywhere. We were required to wear masks in all common areas and submit to a “spit” test daily. The masks came off after six weeks, but the spit test continued for the entire trip. We feared the “phone call” telling us to get ready for the hazmat team and our removal to a quarantine cabin. It didn’t happen for us, and the rules were a trifle for the pleasure of seeing the world, where we could get in, that is.

One of our stops was Panama City, where we visited a church, covered in golden and ornate religious icons. There was a beautiful, intricate diorama of Jerusalem that was extraordinary. I don’t remember where it was, maybe downstairs in the church. The pictures below are a few of the views of Panama and the canal.

One thing about traveling on a cruise ship, especially one that openly caters to so-called “rich Americans”, was that we didn’t fit in. We do not have multiple homes, and we drive a 2013 Buick Encore and a 2005 Nissan pickup that my Dad used to drive to get the mail in town. Of course, on a long cruise of this type, being friendly is important since we’ll be with these people for a long time. We met quite a few friendly people who mainly wanted to tell us how many cruises they’d been on, how many homes they have, and how much of everything else they have. $$$$ We sat with them in the lounge, drink in hand, and listened dutifully. Did any of these people ever ask one question about us? Such as, “Where are you from? What is your background? What do you hope to see on this cruise, or how many children do you have?” You know, the standard, polite questions. They were not interested. It wasn’t all bad. Sometimes they could be very entertaining. We did meet a few couples who didn’t fit that mold. Thank goodness for them!

This cruise got all mixed up because of COVID. Originally, after going through the Panama Canal and on to Angeles, we would pick up some new passengers and head to Hawaii. But Hawaii was still closed, in addition to several stops further west. The itinerary needed to change. It was a dicey time. After leaving Fort Lauderdale, our captain was concerned because people kept breaking our excursion rules (no independent wandering), and our sick numbers got pretty high. Our stop in Cartagena, Colombia, was cancelled because we had too many in quarantine. The Panamanians could also block our entrance into the Canal. The Captain chewed out the passengers, saying that if we didn’t shape up, we’d have to return to Florida. That was a scary idea. Many other cruises had already experienced such sanctions. But we behaved, made it through the Canal, and soon sailed up to Puntarenas, Costa Rica, where we rode a bus into a quaint village to be entertained by colorful dancers. It was a picturesque little village. I can admit now that we broke the rules and ran across the street to a little market to pick up some goodies. But we kept our masks on.

After visiting Cabo San Lucas, we arrived in Los Angeles. We had to make an emergency trip to a Dentist, and returned just in time. Because the passengers had already demonstrated they couldn’t be trusted out on their own, we were locked down for the rest of our three days in LA. But the passengers were always, always treated like royalty. When we got the new itinerary, the cruise line gave everyone the option of getting off with full credit for another cruise. Instead of heading west, we backtracked to Panama and took a right to South America. Not too bad of an exchange! Many exciting stops were added that more than made up for the change. Some got off, though, mainly because they’d already seen those places. We ended up with a small cohort of passengers, fewer than 500 on a ship that normally carries 900. Nice! In the meantime, we were making friends with the crew. When Larry’s birthday came up, one of the crew arranged for a cake to be delivered to our ocean view dinner table that night. After the cake arrived, five servers gathered around and sang Happy Birthday in Spanish! It was fun. We decided to keep our distance from some of the more overbearing passengers, but with a smile. One man on our floor told us this was his eighth world cruise and then instructed us poor hayseeds on how to navigate an airport and baggage claim. I don’t know why he thought we might need that kind of help, especially out in the middle of an ocean. I gave kudos to my airline pilot husband (retired) for his restraint. This same man told us he had a suitcase full of cameras and would be pleased to sell us one for $300. We considered it, but after some research, we discovered his price was inflated by 50% at least. After turning him down nicely, he wasn’t so friendly. I don’t get such behavior. Oh well.

Our next adventure was crossing the Equator, which every ship celebrates with the arrival of King Neptune and related hijinks. With the many sea days, we suggested that the ship hold a passenger talent show. King Neptune, I mean the Cruise Director, thought that was a great idea. Larry considered doing a drum solo, but having not played in a few years, decided he might need more practice than there was time for. Several other passengers stepped up, making for a diverse and entertaining show.

Well, that’s my story of how we went to sea, evaded COVID, and changed course. It was all good, and we had a great time. Larry will never forget his experience sitting in the steam room with another man, who revealed he’d just been released from a two-week quarantine. Just a tad unsettling. That man became a good friend. We’ve been asked if we would do a World Cruise again. We began on Christmas Eve, 2019, and arrived home in mid-May 2022. The answer is No. We loved seeing many wonders of our remarkable, diverse, delightful world. It was an incredible journey. We met lovely people and viewed cultures that are very different from ours. We all need that kind of experience, and I urge you to get up and go somewhere to see how alike we humans are. But we decided it was too long to be away from home. We love traveling. We also love our home. The photo below is the Pacific side of the Panama Canal, where, as you see, ships of every kind wait for their turn.

I hope you enjoyed my post. Give me a thumbs up or a comment if you’re so inclined. I’ll see you next time!