Never take an umbrella from a stranger...

I am back in the U.S., after what seemed like the longest possible plane ride across the Atlantic Ocean (we took a rather out-of-the-way route to Atlanta to completely avoid Hurricane Wilma, and then ended up in a holding pattern over Atlanta because of high winds). So after 24 hours without sleep and a couple days back in Austin to reacclimate to the Central Time Zone, I'm ready to write up a recap of the bests, worsts, and just plain bizarre of Mediterranean Cruise 2005:

Best Overall Stop: Rome, Italy. Rome wasn't actually on our cruise itinerary, but it was the nearest city to our departing airport. And when you're that close to Rome, you might as well tack on a couple more days to your vacation to check it out. So that's what we decided to do, and I think everyone was glad we did. Rome is a really beautiful, interesting, historic city with so much to see it's impossible to do it all in one weekend. Unfortunately that's all we had, so we had to do the whirlwind tour and hit all the major sights really quickly -- Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, the Colosseum, St. Peter's Square. And we never thought about how our major sightseeing day was Sunday -- a lot of shops were closed, and even if we'd had time, we wouldn't have been able to get into the Sistine Chapel (something I really wanted to see...). But that's okay, because after our short exposure to Rome, I think we all decided we'd have to go back some day for a longer visit. (I hope it's okay that I didn't actually toss a coin into Trevi Fountain... I'm still planning a return visit. :))

Worst Overall Stop: Naples, Italy. Or "Napoli" in Italian -- which I'm guessing translates to "rude, loud and aggressive." Walk the streets, and you'll see people who look profoundly unhappy... not to mention downright angry at times. And I can't say I blame them after wandering the city -- I've never seen a city with so much graffiti plastered over every available surface, or a city with so many buildings desperately in need of a good power-washing. It's like the level of grime and disrepair became too much for anyone to handle, so the city just gave up. Naples is also home to some of the most insane traffic I've ever seen -- crossing the street was quite an adventure. I believe it was our driver/tour guide in Rome who said, "if you can drive in Naples and Bangkok, you can drive anywhere in the world." (Which makes me think I won't be driving through Bangkok any time soon...) And the icing on this crumbling, unappetizing cake came when my dad and Rick and I attempted to cross a street near a waiting taxi driver (and to be honest, we're not even sure he WAS a taxi driver). After politely declining his offer to drive us anywhere, my dad and I began crossing the street, only to realize Rick wasn't with us. When we glanced back at the curb, we saw the "taxi driver" hoisting Rick by his belt as Rick attempted to pull away. My dad and I ran back, yelling "hey!" with as much anger as we could muster (my dad and I being two of the least angry-sounding people on earth...) and the guy finally let go and put his hands up in an "I surrender" sort of motion. We're pretty sure this guy wasn't so desperate for a fare that he decided to accost a stranger -- we think it was more a "distract and grab the wallet" kind of ploy. Fortunately, he didn't manage to get anything. But Rick said it would've been pretty easy for that guy to take his wallet when he was so distracted by the belt-grabbing. The lesson, of course, is to always be vigilant and always pay attention to your surroundings -- foreign country or not. And just so I'm not completely negative about my entire Naples experience, I will say that I had a couple GREAT cups of cappuccino and some of the best ice cream I've ever tasted while I was there. So it wasn't a total loss...

Best Unplanned Port of Call: Toulon, France. We were supposed to stop in Marseille on this day, but because of "labor unrest" (whatever that means...) we were told the night before that we'd be stopping in Toulon instead. I'd never even heard of Toulon, but apparently it's the most important naval port in France. We docked alongside several ships from the French navy, as well as scores of picturesque sailboats. Toulon itself turned out to be a lovely little city -- very easy to get around, with plenty of shops to visit and lots of narrow, but well-kept, cobblestone streets to explore. Interesting observation about Toulon -- the ratio of lingerie shops to churches seemed to be about 10 to 1. Those French really love their lingerie...

Worst Unplanned Port of Call: Palermo, Sicily. This stop was supposed to be in Tunisia, and it was the port of call I was looking forward to the most. Unfortunately, this port was also cancelled and we ended up in Palermo. I'm sure Palermo is perfectly nice when it's sunny... however, the day we were there, it was raining. And the rain unleashed a chain of events that led to a very unpleasant stay in Palermo... more on this later...

Worst Song to Have Stuck in Your Head on an 11-Hour Flight: That nutty Sardinian folk song we heard on the "taste of Sardinia" shore excursion. I'm not sure of the exact lyrical translation, but I'm pretty sure it goes something like this:

We took your money,
Isn't that funny.
You ate some of our food
And it wasn't very good.
Except for the cheese,
As tasteless as you please.
Even dad ate it,
He really didn't hate it.

Best Trek Up a Hill and Trudge Down a Mountain: The journey to and from the royal palace in Monaco. Wow, that was a lot of stairs. And after walking all the way up, we sort of took a wrong turn on the way back and ended up taking a very scenic, but unnecessary, walk down another large group of stairs. It dead-ended at the ocean, and we had to take an elevator back up to where we'd started (well thank goodness there was an elevator, at least... :)).

Worst Airline for Collecting Baggage in a Timely Manner: Iberia, which decided to put one of Debbie's bags on a later flight, because they apparently ran out of room on our own flight. (Sure, that's nice -- we'll just throw your bag on this other flight without even mentioning it to you, because we're pretty sure you have nowhere to go and nothing to do and plenty of time to wait around for it...) And with all the miscommunication between Iberia and Holland America and the Prime Minister of China and who-knows-who-else, poor Debbie was left without a suitcase and contemplating the feasibility of creating an entire wardrobe out of the curtains in her stateroom, a la Maria in The Sound of Music. The bag did show up after a couple days, but Holland America was disappointingly less-than apologetic about the whole fiasco.

Most Glaring Omission at the Dinner Table: Eric's napkin critters. Not one chicken, bunny, or farm animal of any sort made an appearance at the table this year, and I, for one, missed them. I mean, c'mon, Eric -- I know you're 30 now and supposedly an "adult" and all that, but some of us have come to expect a couple napkin animal photo opportunities when we're on vacation...

Best Show of Cleavage: The "taste of Sardinia" shore excursion. We were served some of the local food and wine by a Sardinian folk group in traditional dress. For the men, this meant poofy pirate shirts and embroidered vests. And for the women, it was low-cut dresses with decolletage-framing lace. After we'd had some food, they proceeded to demonstrate traditional song and dance, bouncing around with oblivious abandon.

Worst Advice Heard on the Ship: "Go see the changing of the guard at the palace in Monaco." I found this to be bad advice not because of the long hike uphill to the palace (which, to be honest, I thought was a really good workout after several nights of eating badly on the ship...) but simply because the changing of the guard was pretty unimpressive. I think we were all waiting for something interesting to happen, but it never did. It made me wonder why so many people were lined up at precisely 11:55 around the palace -- had they ALL been duped into thinking something really awe-inspiring was about to take place? After the disappointment of the changing of the guard, Eric described to us a few of the other rituals that often take place at the palace -- namely, the changing of the Volvo's oil, the changing of the underwear, and the changing of the lightbulb. I'm sorry we missed all of those...

Best Advice Heard on the Ship: "Never take an umbrella from a stranger." This is the advice our assistant waiter gave me after seeing my heavily-bandaged finger on our day in Sicily. Our rainy day in Sicily. The day no one had an umbrella, so I gratefully DID take an umbrella from a stranger -- someone who was on the way back to the ship, and had just bought a rather dilapidated-looking blue plaid umbrella from a touristy stand on the pier. And since it was such a horrible umbrella, she was just going to throw it away -- but why not let someone get a couple hours' use from it first? It didn't take me long to realize that throwing it away would've been a much better option. It was much too difficult to open and close, and one of the metal support brackets was hanging off the fabric. After an hour of on and off drizzling, it began to rain again, and I fought to open the umbrella. The umbrella won when my hand slipped and I sliced my finger open on the broken metal bracket. Sicilians stared at me as drops of blood hit the sidewalk, and I made a futile attempt to stop the bleeding with my other hand. All this really did was make me look like a crazy deranged Lady Macbeth (out, damn spot!). Fortunately, I was with three people who've worked as EMTs at one time or another. Debbie ran into a shop and got me napkins to wrap around my finger, and then everyone steered me back toward the ship. An hour and a half, five stitches, and a tetanus shot later, I was back in my stateroom thinking about how stupid it was to take that dumb umbrella. And even stupider to keep attempting to open and close something that so obviously wanted to be tossed in the trash. Eric and Eric and Debbie were all so great to me -- Rick and I told them they could stay out and walk around Palermo, but they insisted on coming back to the ship and stayed in the infirmary with me until they knew I was all right. It's good to have a brother and friends who care about you that much. :)

Best Gastronomic Experiences Seemingly Unavailable in the U.S.: Coffee and ice cream in Italy. I don't know what these people do to their cappuccinos and dairy products, but the absolute BEST coffee and ice cream I've ever had has been in Italy. I've had perfect cappuccinos everywhere from Livorno to Naples, and we had several bowls of ice cream when we were staying in Rome because the stuff was so addicting. And it's not just the fact that you can find places that serve such great indulgences, it's the fact that they're EVERYWHERE. Stand on a Roman street corner and throw a stone, and you're likely to hit a gelateria or a cafe -- and I'll admit I didn't sample them all, but I'm betting the quality is pretty much standard no matter which one you visit. Good thing I don't live in Italy, because I think I'd be on a constant caffeine high and carry an ice cream cone in my hand at all times...

Strangest Bathroom Fixture in a Roman Hotel: It's a toss-up between the cord hanging in the shower, and the weird little sink-like thing next to the toilet. Now, I'm assuming that was a bidet, but no matter how long any of us stared at this thing, we couldn't for the life of us figure out how to use it. And the fact that there was a little bar of soap and a little towel next to it seemed bizarre, as well. So, what? -- you fill up the little bowl, soap up, swish around and towel off?? Maybe I should've tried it, just for the fun of it. I guess it's one of those American/European differences that only seem strange to the visiting party. :) And the cord in the shower is something I was warned about beforehand -- because apparently the first time my grandfather took a trip overseas, he wondered about the cord in the shower as well. So he pulled it to see what happened, and before he knew it, a woman was in the bathroom asking if he was okay. It was some kind of "pull in case of emergency" cord, I guess in case you fall in the tub. How come we don't have those in American hotels? Are we not all that concerned for travellers' safety? Or are there just far more tub accidents in Europe? Hmmm... Anyway, after telling Rick NOT to pull the cord in the shower, he went and pulled the cord in the shower, of course. However, even though a little red light went on outside our hotel room door, I was dismayed to realize that no one ever came to our aid. Not that anyone actually needed any aid, but what if someone had? What if someone really HAD fallen in the tub? How long would they have wallowed in puddles of lukewarm water before someone came to hoist them out of their porcelain prison? I guess they don't notice if you've pulled the cord unless they happen to be coming to clean the room...

Best Opportunity for a Drinking Game: Every time my brother said, "Tina, eat your ham!" as he quoted Napoleon Dynamite. He really likes that movie. :)

Worst Air Quality: Monte-Carlo, Monaco. I'm not sure if it's because Monte-Carlo is situated at the foot of mountains, or simply because there's a lot of traffic crammed into a tiny space, but it seemed like the exhaust from a million cars was trapped over the entire city with no place to go. It was made even worse by the fact that there was some kind of go-cart race the day we were there (and it lasted all day long...). So by the end of the day, you could actually see the haze settling over the city. Monte-Carlo was a great city to walk around, but it would've been so much better had I been able to breathe cleaner air...

Biggest Disappointment: That I wasn't able to procure a decent amount of European chocolate. When we got to Rome, I was so excited because our hotel was right next door to what looked like a really great chocolate shop. Except it was closed. All weekend. So I thought perhaps I'd have a chance to buy something at the airport, but checking in was so crazy and disorganized that by the time we got to our gate, our flight was already boarding. So I'll have to make do with Snickers and Kit Kats until I have a chance to get back overseas... oh well. :)

Biggest Pleasant Surprise: The fact that most of us, it seems, actually LOST weight on this trip. Even after all that ice cream and cruise ship food. I think it was that long walk up to the palace in Monaco... burned enough calories that day to eat nothing but ice cream for two weeks straight and not gain an ounce. :)

Well, I think that about sums it up. Everything you ever wanted to know about our Mediterranean vacation (and plenty you never really wanted to know at all...). Eventually I'll post some of our pictures (although sadly, I don't have any pictures of Eric's napkin bunnies). :)

...the smithy of my soul...

Hurrah! Leaving for vacation tomorrow! Shall eat yummy French croissants and drink Italian cappuccino and walk on sandy beaches in the sun. Will be thin and worldly and have bronzed skin when I return...

Uh, sorry... just having a bit of a Bridget Jones moment. (Cindy would understand that... not sure if anyone else would. :)) And while I may, possibly, know a bit more about the world when I return, I'm fairly certain I won't be thin (too many good things to eat) and I certainly won't have bronzed skin. Even if I were to lay out on a beach in Monte-Carlo for a week -- I've been blessed/cursed with some kind of genetic, organic SPF 100 in my epidermis. I recall a picture from a Caribbean cruise several years ago, where a group of us were gathered around a table. Most of us were sporting either red noses and foreheads from sunny days of exploring beaches and wandering from t-shirt shop to t-shirt shop, or lovely mocha latte skin in various shades of pigmentation. And then there was me -- white. Blindingly white. I think you can actually see a sort of glowing aura about me in that picture. And it's not like I was hiding under layers of sunscreen and straw brimmed hats and gauzy fabric during that cruise. In fact, I may have forgone the sunscreen altogether, in an attempt to coax my skin cells into pigment overdrive. Didn't work... still Blindingly White Lisa.

I wouldn't have high hopes for a tan this time, anyway -- I've been checking the weather forecast overseas, and it looks like we may be in for some cloudy, drizzly days. But there's something about visiting a new area that makes the rain tolerable. I was just telling a friend about how depressing I find cloudy, overcast, rainy days -- at least here at home. But when I visit a new place, I like to experience the reality of that area -- even if it's not always picture-postcard perfect. And if it's raining in Barcelona on Wednesday, so be it. I'll be happy to hold my hands out, and feel the drops splashing on my palms... I'll be happy to smell the fragrance of rain mingling with the scent of a new city. Because it may rain, but it'll be raining in Barcelona.

It's funny how vacations and holidays and other happy moments tend to sneak up on us. When we planned this vacation, it seemed so far away that it was hardly worth thinking about. And then all of a sudden it's the day before we leave and I'm not even packed yet. If you know you're going on vacation ten months in advance, doesn't it seem like it should be easier to pack? :) One of my favorite quotes from A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man is when the young Stephen Dedalus is anxiously waiting for Christmas vacation, marking off the days one by one. It seems so far away, "but one time it would come because the earth moved round always." I think of this quote any time I'm waiting for something good and need to be patient -- whether it be a two-week vacation, a much-anticipated meeting with a friend, or simply wondering when my dinner will be ready when I'm out to eat. "But one time it would come because the earth moved round always." (If it seems like that steak is taking forever -- well, as long as the world keeps spinning, it'll get here eventually... :))

Another thing I love about Portrait of the Artist is this pervasive feeling throughout the book of wanting to be free -- wanting to explore, and travel, and learn. I love the symbolism of the name Dedalus -- based on the myth of the Greek engineer who built wings to escape prison. And Stephen Dedalus wants to escape, as well -- "Away! Away! The spell of arms and voices: the white arms of roads, their promise of close embraces and the black arms of tall ships that stand against the moon, their tale of distant nations. They are held out to say: We are alone. Come. And the voices say with them: We are your kinsmen. And the air is thick with their company as they call to me, their kinsman, making ready to go, shaking the wings of their exultant and terrible youth.... Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race."

Okay, perhaps a bit dramatic for a little two-week vacation. :) But since the world is still spinning, I'd better finish packing. My plane will be taking off before I know it...

Totally random thought...

So have you ever squeezed some ketchup onto a hamburger, or drizzled some chocolate sauce on an ice cream sundae, or squirted some lotion into your hand, and the shape it makes looks like it might mean something in another language? Like maybe Chinese or Arabic or Sanskrit... only you don't KNOW any Chinese or Arabic or Sanskrit, so you can't actually tell what it says? Because I squeezed some bath gel onto a loofah yesterday, and I'll be darned if it didn't look like it meant something. And I imagine that somewhere, halfway around the world, someone is squirting bath gel onto a loofah and seeing the word "hi" and wondering to themselves (in a language I don't understand) if that particular formation of bath gel means something in French or English or German...

And what about those articles of clothing with different kinds of writing on them? I think I have a shirt, buried somewhere in my dresser, with Japanese characters imprinted on the fabric. I suppose I shouldn't be afraid to wear it, but I'm always curious as to what those words on my shirt translate to. Is it something good? Something bad? Total nonsense? Last year I was in a shop in Miami that had some nice clothing imported from India. I found a shirt I really loved, only it was covered in Hindi. I just had this horrible premonition of wearing my Hindi-covered shirt out somewhere, running into someone who reads Hindi, and hearing them laugh as they explained that my shirt read, "please make fun of me -- I have no idea what this shirt says." So instead I just bought a plain cotton shirt and a skirt -- no writing. Maybe if clothing like that came with an accurate translation, then I'd be okay with buying it. Like a little card next to the price tag that says, "here's what these words mean." And if it was something like "peace love hope joy," okay, maybe THEN I'd buy it.

I just wish I knew what my bath loofah was trying to tell me...