Dr.Dobro

We made a return visit to Cork, Ireland -- one of several double port visits on this cruise, a consequence of stringing several segments together. Poor us, huh? Once again we had only a drive-by view of Cobh, which looks like a lovely place but one we seem destined never to visit. Our two calls for Cork were changed to the decidedly less photogenic Ringaskiddy, and several years ago another visit was changed to Dunmore East. But after the shuttle-bus disaster of our first visit to Ringaskiddy, HAL was true to its word that it would work with local authorities on future calls. The shuttles were plentiful this time. We have a mission on this visit: to meet up with Colin, a frequent Cruise Critic poster. When packing for this cruise, I stupidly failed to include half of the two-piece power cord for my CPAP machine. I posted a question here about general delivery type services at post offices in the British Isles. Colin jumped in and volunteered to have the cord sent directly to him, which my son did. And true to his word, Colin met us in Cork and completed the delivery. So a huge thanks to Colin for that! And I am sleeping much better. It is a rather short port day, so we did not have a big tourist agenda. We spent an interesting hour at the Nano Nagle Museum, which tells the story of a religious sister who pioneered education for the poor in the 18th century. She had to operate in defiance of the Penal Laws, which oppressed Catholics by depriving them of property, jobs, political participation and education. This is a "penal chalice" from that era. It could be quickly disassembled into small pieces and hidden away. Nano Nagle is interred in a cemetery on the grounds of the convent she founded. Her order, the Sisters of the Presentation of the Blessed Virgin Mary (known nowadays as the Presentation Sisters) is now established in 24 countries, including many communities in the U.S. and Canada. I had never heard of the order, but several communities are not far from our home. This modernist stained glass window in the Cork convent portrays Nano Nagle and her mission to educate the poor. Not far from the museum is Holy Trinity Church. On our first visit, we had thought this was St. Fin Barre's Cathedral, only to have a local tell us, no, that's just a regular parish church. Nothing special to see there. We passed a few murals we had missed before and took a photo of the truly weird streetlights in Cork. We're left wondering about Box of Frogs. So that's our story for today, and we're sticking to it.

It was another perfectly sunny day as we stopped at Falmouth, in Cornwall on England's southwest coast. Its name derives from its position at the mouth of the River Fal, but we were delighted to learn that the town was once known as Pennycomequick (and there is another town still named that near Plymouth in Devon). It was a short day in port, so we planned a suitably simple day out. We hopped this little passenger ferry across the wide estuary to St. Mawes, where an artillery fort built under Henry VIII in 1540 stands guard over the water. The wide rivermouth forms a huge harbor that was strategically important as an anchoring place, and Henry did not want a foreign fleet setting up shop there. It is actually one of two forts built simultaneously; the other, Pendennis Castle above Falmouth, can be seen in the photo below, one mile away. The two forts (both are called "castle," but they're really not) could launch a deadly cannon crossfire against any interlopers. The uphill walk from the ferry landing to the fort is a nice stroll past shops and hotels, including this beautiful thatched-roofed accommodation. We enjoyed wandering the four levels of the central tower and the three rounded battlements, and the grounds offer a nice seaside stroll. The property is managed by English Heritage, a historical preservation trust. After our return by ferry, we walked down Falmouth's shopping street past the pretty St. George Arcade. England's patron saint is depicted over the entrance slaying his dragon. We never realized before that St. George did his dragon-slaying in the nude. This was a first for Dr. Dobro: a thrift store with a couple of actual dobros in the window. Falmouth was our first encounter with the pasty (pronounced like pass key), a Cornwall staple that's now enjoyed across the U.K. Uncooked meat, potatoes and vegetables (there are many variations) are placed on circular flat shortbread, which is folded over and crimped shut, then baked. Good stuff! Another odd thing we saw was the King's Pipe, located next door to the Dog & Smuggler Pasty and Tuck Shop. It was used by Customs to incinerate tobacco being smuggled in during the 19th century. It reminded me of the event years ago when police in Oregon incinerated a huge amount of marijuana they had seized. There was some concern over a flock of terns that flew in from the Pacific and passed through the great cloud of pot smoke. But there was nothing anyone could do. That day, no tern was left unstoned. Bah-da-bum. Will write again soon.

We learned a new word today: tombolo. It means a sand spit that is attached to land masses at both ends. The picture below was taken from a high vantage on the Isle of Portland in the English Channel. Portland is a "tied island" connected by the Chesil Beach tombolo to Weymouth, visible in the distance. The cruise port offered a free shuttle to Weymouth, a resort town with a long and crowded shopping street with a good variety of locally owned businesses. But the big draw of Weymouth is its beach right in the heart of downtown. You have to admire the Brits determined to have a Frankie and Annette experience despite the cold and wind. Tents and wind barriers abounded, and let's just say the typical beach attire eliminated any risk of sunburn. But kids dug in the sand, people waded in the icy water -- a few even took the full-body plunge -- and a good time seemed to be had by all. We came to Weymouth for just a quick look around before hopping on to the Portland Coaster, a double-decker bus that makes an hourly circuit between downtown Weymouth and Portland Bill, the southern tip of Portland. (A bill is a beak-like promontory or headland. Another new word!) On the way to Portland, we saw runners putting in their miles along the top of the tombolo. Must be difficult to run in sand -- maybe they crave a tougher workout. We passed a large manicured lawn-bowling court. Not sure if this is bocce or some British variant. And we were surprised to pass Olympic rings, until we learned that sailing events were held on the bay below during the 2012 London games. We hopped off the Coaster at the Portland Bill lighthouse and started a hike northward along the west side of the island, which is just four miles long and two miles wide. Some plant was blooming a crazy yellow, painting the landscape beautifully. Portland is famous for its granite quarries, which provided stone for iconic buildings like the United Nations in New York and St. Paul's Cathedral in London. It looks like they even cut rock right out of cliffs at the water's edge. I guess that rig atop the cliff is to haul up stone. I'd love to see how they did it. Hey, look -- a Ukrainian flag! Mother Nature has joined the cause. We turned east so that we could cross the island and return to Portland Bill by walking back south on the other shore. This brought us through a little commercial area, and waddaya know, there ahead of us is the Eight Kings pub. It was like the sirens calling to Odysseus: "Step in and have a pint." We wound up spending an hour and a half in the joint, having a great time with a small crew of locals. It turns out that virtually no one from cruise ships goes up to Portland; they all go shopping in Weymouth or get on tour buses to Stonehenge. Every time someone walked into the pub, it was announced that "These two came up from the ship!" We compared notes on Britain and America with lots of fun-poking. The inevitable question came: "Do you own any guns?" I think they found it hard to believe that we weren't packing heat right then and there. We learned that you must not utter "the R word" on Portland lest calamity ensue. You can say bunny, or "long-eared pie," but legend has it that the critters dig burrows that make the quarries unstable. Maybe our legs were being pulled, but we honored the custom. Right outside the Eight Kings was a classic red U.K. telephone booth. We have seen these all over the place, and we just assumed that cell service wasn't as ubiquitous here as it is in the U.S., where public phones have virtually vanished. But lo and behold, this booth contained an AED defibrillator. Later on, we poked into a few other booths to find them repurposed as ATMs, little take-a-book and leave-a-book libraries, and even a few that still had phones. We completed our hike, grateful when the lighthouse came back into view at last, and caught the last circuit of the day for the Portland Coaster. Karen's Fitbit clocked us in at eight miles walked. Bed never felt so good!

This morning we were up early for our sail-in to Rotterdam, the second city of the Netherlands and the busiest port in Europe. Bombed mercilessly during World War II, Rotterdam rose from the rubble with a rich palette of modern architecture, and its meticulous city planning has become a model around the world. The Rotterdam port is right next to the original Holland America Line headquarters. Our cruise line, celebrating its 150th anniversary this year, started as a shipping and passenger company and transported hundreds of thousands of Dutch emigrants to the U.S. in its early years. At the other end of the pier is the impressive new Erasmus Bridge. But our destination for today is the Hague, about 30 minutes away via a magnificently efficient rail system. Amsterdam is officially the capital of the Netherlands, but the parliament (called the States General) meets in the Hague, where you will also find the prime minister's office, countless embassies, and even the home of King Willem-Alexander and Queen Maxima. So Amsterdam seems to be clinging to glories of a bygone era. Unfortunately, the Binnenhof complex that hosts the government buildings is shut down for major renovations to the building exteriors and central plaza. So we were restricted to seeing just the exterior of the complex, right on the shore of Hofvijver Lake in the city center. We took a walk on narrow, cobblestoned streets through pretty plazas full of cafes. One of the plazas includes 't Goude Hooft (not a typo), an inn that dates to 1432. We had a good time at the M.C. Escher Museum, which is really a twofer attraction. One, you can see over 200 creations by the famed graphic artist, a master of illusion and impossible reality. And two, you get to tour a building (constructed in 1760) that served as the royal palace of Queen Mother Emma and her successors starting in 1896. The royal family sold the building to the city in 1990, with a condition that it be used only for cultural activities. Enter Escher. He was not widely appreciated in his lifetime (1898-1972), but his work has elicited many a "Wow, man" from generations of inhaleurs d'herbe. He was the master of tessellation, which I learned is the technique of covering the entire surface of the artwork with interlocking geometric shapes. But Escher's geometry features much more: plants, animals and people and objects of many kinds. I am tempted to think of this as a visual pun -- a mantis praying over the body of a bishop -- but of course Escher didn't speak English. Queen Mother Emma had a vigorous taste in chandeliers. We continued our walk to the International Court of Justice and its Peace Tower, but we were a little disappointed. There was no access to the buildings or even the grounds, and so we contented ourselves with a visit to an underwhelming visitor center. Even the smallest national parks in the U.S. have visitor centers that convey more information. But we stopped in our tracks when we saw what appeared to be a message left by an American Indian, "Big Chief White Horse Eagle," who visited in 1922 at the age of 108. How nice, we thought, an Indian leader devoted to peace, seeking out a leading monument to peace. There is also a grainy photo of the chief, in full Plains Indian style headdress and regalia, standing with some officials. But hold on. He was 108 and physically able to withstand the rigors of sea travel? And he had enough mentally acuity to converse with some high-falutin' Europeans who probably regarded him as a savage and an oddity? Seeds of doubt propelled me to the interwebs, where I found a New York Times obituary (June 16, 1937) that said White Horse Eagle "said he was" 115 and smoked a peace pipe with every president from Grant to Coolidge. But I also turned up a recent "Remember When" type article from the Peninsula Daily News in Port Angeles, Wash., which recounted his long-ago visit to tribes on the Olympic Peninsula and pretty much called him out as a fraud. He claimed to have graduated from Yale in 1871 and starred in football there (Yale's first team played in 1872) and that his string of peace-pipin' presidents stretched back to Lincoln. Hello, George Santos? I'm wondering if the World Court was punk'd. And finally, I want to leave you with one of the most astounding things we have seen on this or any other cruise. (drumroll) Where I live in Connecticut, most homes use oil heat, and the oil is delivered by a tanker truck, which uses a long hose to fill the tank in the basement. Well, in the Hague, we saw a Heineken truck delivering beer to a bar via a hose running into a basement window. Mirabile dictu! That will do for today, compadres. Talk to you again soon.

No idea. The Have It All package includes access to the 2nd tier (of 3) internet service, and it's fine for my needs -- basically websites and email, but no streaming. It glitches occasionally, but the performance is comparable to what I have at home.

For centuries, Englishmen and women have been heartened when the white cliffs of Dover came into view as their ship or ferry crossed the English Channel at its narrowest point. The unmistakable and majestic cliffs meant homecoming, whether it's from a holiday jaunt to France or after a years-long, bloody campaign against fascism. That yearning for home was captured beautifully in 1942, when Vera Lynn recorded "The White Cliffs of Dover," looking forward to a return to normalcy after victory in World War II -- an outcome that was very much in doubt at the time. There'll be bluebirds over The white cliffs of Dover Tomorrow, just you wait and see There'll be love and laughter And peace ever after Tomorrow, when the world is free The shepherd will tend his sheep The valley will bloom again And Jimmy will go to sleep In his own little room again There'll be bluebirds over The white cliffs of Dover Tomorrow, just you wait and see Fun fact: Bluebirds are a North American species, and there are none in England. The lyrics were written by Nat Burton, an American. Some Brits say, well, it's symbolic of the blue uniforms of the Royal Air Force. But no matter how you slice it, it's a beautiful sentiment. Dame Vera Lynn is quite a story in herself. Her most beloved song, "We'll Meet Again" (1939), expressed similar feelings about a better future, and I think that phrase is hard-wired into the British soul. Queen Elizabeth, in what turned out to be her final address to the nation, used it to rally citizens against the threat of Covid -- and Dame Vera, over 100 years old, was alive to hear it. She passed in 2020 at the age of 103, remembered as "The Forces' Sweetheart." Well, that's a long preamble, but sometimes I get swept down into these rabbit holes. Our plan for Dover was a simple one: to visit Dover Castle, where the annual World War II Weekend was being held. The castle dates to the 11th century, and it has long been called "the key to England" for its strategic position. It played that role during the war, when it was heavily fortified and had underground tunnels added for munitions and hospital care. English Heritage, the nonprofit that manages the castle and many other historic properties, threw quite a party. Here are some scenes from the observance. Vintage military vehicles were on display, like this U.S. Army supply truck... ...and a Royal Air Force jeep. Motorcyclists gave a demonstration of precision driving. Performers sang songs of the Blitz years, including a few Dame Vera tunes. Should I feel a little creepy that faux German soldiers were on hand? I spoke to the one of the re-enactors, who seemed like a regular bloke; he said the uniforms (with no National Socialist insignias) only come out for events like this, when someone has to play the bad guys. Still, it felt strange. Karen met a young woman whose mother, grandmother and great-granny all were nurses. She is not one herself, but she honors them by portraying a U.S. Army nurse at events like this. Note the "victory curls" in her hair. This gentleman displayed his well-preserved "Anderson shelter." More than 1.5 million of these small-bedroom-sized units were distributed starting in 1939 to British families in areas likely to be bombed. They were designed to be partially buried in the back yard. The shelters could not withstand a direct hit, but the corrugated design was effective in dissipating the wave of force that typically does more damage than the actual explosion. On a rise next to the castle is a Roman pharos, or lighthouse. Built in the early 2nd century -- wow! -- it is the oldest standing structure in Great Britain and one of only three remaining Roman lighthouses in the world. The only bad thing about the day is that it was the beginning of a national school holiday (the school year runs to mid-July, followed by a six-week break) and the town was choked with vacationers. And Dover was already notorious for its truck traffic that builds daily near the channel tunnel and ferries. The shuttle from the ship to the town center and castle was shut down because the circuit took over two hours. So we walked the two miles or so, climbed that lung-busting hill to the castle, walked back, and slept very well that night. Not bad for a couple of old farts.

Thanks for the help! It was indeed Szyk, and more examples of his wartime work can be found by googling Arthur Szyk American Art Archives.

Hmm, interesting: apparently Cruise Critic does not allow posting the commonly used name for the National Socialists. But it is their taste for eugenic cleansing I was talking about.

We made our first landfall on the European continent at Le Havre, France, with a plan to rent a car and visit D-Day invasion sites in Normandy. On the way to the beaches, we visited the Memorial de Caen, where we expected to find the story of Operation Overlord laid out in great detail. And we did. But we found so much more, and for me, this was the most interesting part: a huge and richly illustrated exhibit that explained the rise of fascism in Germany between the world wars. I'll post a few things below. This is a campaign poster from the 1933 federal election. The text reads "Hitler Builds -- Vote for List 1." The ***' taste for eugenic cleansing is evident in this image produced by Neues Volk, the monthly publication of the Office of Racial Policy, in 1937. It depicts a physician-like figure with a disabled man. The text reads "60,000 Reichsmarks, what this hereditary patient costs the people's community in his lifetime. Fellow citizen, this is your money too." We have all seen films and photos of the Star of David that Jews were forced to wear, and the striped uniforms of the concentration camps. But despite our familiarity, it is jarring to have the actual items right in your face. This is a plate issued in England to celebrate Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain as "The Peacemaker." His peace agreement with Hitler in 1938 was initially popular in Britain and France, but we all know how that turned out. These is a fascinating collection of propaganda posters, including this Japanese depiction of FDR as some kind of ghoul. And here's FDR with his henchman, Churchill, dishing out gangster-style violence to Europe. I failed to note the source of this image, probably just after Pearl Harbor, showing a stereotyped Japanese stabbing an American cowboy in the back, while Hitler and Mussolini yuk it up. Given the fact that the American is also a stereotype, could it be British? The museum is built atop long tunnels actually used by the Germans as a command post for defenses along the nearby Normandy coast, part of Hitler's "Atlantic Wall." Those are open to visitors too. We continued on to Colleville-sur-Mer and Omaha Beach, a principal landing site for American troops. I have read that the hard-to-watch opening scenes of "Saving Private Ryan" give a pretty accurate picture, but it's hard to fathom that such carnage occurred in such a peaceful, idyllic place. It also struck me that the distance from the surf to the fortified bluffs is much shorter than I had imagined. Overlooking the beach is the Normandy American Cemetery and Memorial, where 9,388 troops were laid to rest, including two sons of Theodore Roosevelt. The grave markers (with a cross or star of David) are laid out in precise geometric rows, stretching into the distance. The memorial includes the statue "The Spirit of American Youth Rising from the Waves." And behind the statue is the Wall of the Missing, where the alphabetized names of 1,557 servicemen known to have taken part in the invasion are listed. Many of them were surely buried in the cemetery under stones identifying just "A Comrade in Arms Known But to God." Even in the most solemn of places, you can find a little humor. The cemetery is kept in immaculate condition, and it's easy to see why: this work crew includes two guys with tools and five apparent supervisors. Some things are universal! And that's our report on a fascinating and educational day. Will write again soon.

We have arrived at the Riviera. Well, the English Riviera, anyway. The town of Torquay, on the shores of Torbay, is a Victorian resort town on the Devon coast. Karen's priority number one for Torquay was seeking out Devon cream tea with gluten-free scones, and her research brought forth a tea shop called Thyme for Tea that met the requisites. Not a scone guy myself -- I usually find them too dry -- but these were so freshly baked that they were just fine. Especially with clotted cream and jam. We hiked above the western side of the bay toward an outcrop called Hope's Nose. Along the way, we got fine views of Thatcher Rock, which we had presumed was named for Margaret Thatcher. Actually, its name comes from the rock formation a little downhill from the peak on the right side.. A thatcher was a person who gathered long-cut hay or grass to form thatched roofs, and the formation seems to show a person with a bundle of thatch over his shoulder. There also seems to be a large ship of some kind anchored out in the bay. This church has been converted into the Little Theatre, operated by Toads Theatre Company. Seemed fitting that "Nunsense" was being performed there. Back in town, we saw a plaque memorializing the launching of invasion craft on D-Day, both from Torquay and other towns, some of which we will be visiting. Still in place are the huge concrete ramps used to launch the boats, now fronted by a marina. Torquay was the setting for the "Fawlty Towers" BBC series, starring John Cleese of Monty Python fame. The Wikipedia entry on the series includes this amusing info: In May 1970, the Monty Python comedy group stayed at the now demolished Gleneagles Hotel in Torquay, Devon while filming on location in Paignton. John Cleese was fascinated with the behaviour of the owner, Donald Sinclair, later describing him as "the rudest man I've ever come across in my life". Among such behaviour by Sinclair was his criticism of Terry Gilliam's "too American" table etiquette and tossing Eric Idle's briefcase out of a window "in case it contained a bomb". Asked why anyone would want to bomb the hotel, Sinclair replied, "We've had a lot of staff problems". Michael Palin states Sinclair "seemed to view us as a colossal inconvenience". Rosemary Harrison, a waitress at the Gleneagles under Sinclair, described him as "bonkers" and lacking in hospitality, deeming him wholly unsuitable for a hotel proprietor. "It was as if he didn't want the guests to be there." Cleese and his then wife Connie Booth stayed on at the hotel after filming, furthering their research of its owner. Demolished in 2015, the building was replaced by a new retirement home named Sachs Lodge in memory of Andrew Sachs, who played Manuel in the sitcom and who died in 2016. So nothing too exciting today -- a little tea and a nice hike. We'll try for thrills 'n' chills next time.

I did see taxis. There is also a Cork city bus with a stop labeled Ringaskiddy Deep Water Port, presumabky right outside the gate. If you google the Cork city transit map you'll see it.

Our next stop is Dunmore East, a picturesque town on the south coast of Ireland with thatch-roofed cottages and a cliff walk with terrific views. We knew that from a previous visit, but today we will be taking a shore excursion to Tipperary and the Rock of Cashel. Since we started this absurd cruising lifestyle in 2012, we have taken maybe two HAL excursions. They are pretty expensive, and we usually manage to wrangle a do-it-yourself itinerary for much less, with a lot more freedom to do what we please. But the Have It All package includes use-it-or-lose-it credit for excursions, so we put on our stickers -- "dork dots," as legendary poster Whogo calls them -- and got on the bus. It turned out to be a bit of all right. The Rock of Cashel is a limestone bluff atop which the kings of Munster (most of south Ireland) ruled for centuries. It is purportedly the site where St. Patrick baptized the king in the fifth century. They also say the rock was created when the devil took a bite out of a mountain 20 miles away (the Devil's Bit), broke his teeth and spit it out. Whatever buildings existed in St. Patrick's day are long gone. The structures there now date "only" to the year 1100 or so, forming one of the most significant medieval centers in Europe. The immense (and now roofless) cathedral is the largest structure, with towering walls and intriguing carvings. The oldest part of the complex is the round tower, 92 feet tall and somehow still standing. Behind the cathedral is a graveyard, full of Celtic crosses. We were surprised to see graves as recent as 10 years, and we learned that only members of certain families with well-established ancestry can be buried there. There are not many left who qualify. The remains of a relatively modest monastery sit right next door. On the way back to Dunmore East, we stopped at Cahir Castle, completed in 1142. It sits on an island in the Suir River, so it has a natural moat, right on Main Street. We enjoyed a spirited talk from a castle guide who, along with history, liked to gross out visitors with tales of medieval life. For example: To get the lice and ticks out of the royals' clothing, they would hang the garments over the latrine trenches on a hot day, so the rising ammonia would disinfect them. Whew. Hope they had Febreze. We couldn't help but hum along to "It's a Long Way to Tipperary," one of several traditional songs played on the return bus ride. It's an old music hall tune, describing the homesickness of an Irishman who went to work in London. It became famous as a marching song for Irish soldiers in World War I. But another version emerged among the British troops sent to fight in France. It went like this: That's the wrong way to tickle Mary, That's the wrong way to kiss! Don't you know that over here, lad, They like it best like this! Hooray pour les Francais! Farewell, Angleterre! We didn't know the way to tickle Mary, But we learned how, over here!

After two more days at sea -- the last ones for a while, thankfully -- the emerald shores of Ireland come into view. Our destination today is Cork, the nation's second largest city. We are docked about 10 miles away in the marvelously named but not-so-pretty Ringaskiddy. We were supposed to dock in quaint Cobh, but all we get is this glimpse as we pass by on the way to our assigned berth. The promised free shuttle buses to Cork were far too few for the passenger load. Lots of griping ensued. But we finally did get to Cork with its fabulous triple-steeple St. Fin Barre's Cathedral. Construction on this Gothic Revival cathedral started in 1865, but the site has hosted continuous Christian worship for over a thousand years. Not many churches have gargoyles looming over parishioners, but this one has some beauties, as well as less sinister carvings depicting the familiar icons for the evangelists (the lion for Matthew and so on). The principal entrance is inspired by the parable of the bridegroom and the five wise and five foolish virgins. This sent me down a biblical rabbithole to see what this was all about. The message seems to be that planning ahead is important, but I am left wondering exactly what designs those women had on the bridegroom. Rumor has it there is really spectacular stuff to see inside the cathedral too, but there is an admission price of seven euros per person. Now I'm not cheap -- well, okay, I am, a little -- but I won't pay admission to a house of worship as if I were going to the circus. I'm fine with dropping some money into a donation box, but this rubs me the wrong way. Walking around Cork's city center, we found several other pretty churches popping up all over town. There are also quirky little treats to savor. I loved seeing a pub named Sober Lane, with the monkeys (speaking of gargoyles) trying their best to ignore the carousing going on within. This mural, maybe a bit creepy, stood out as well. But classical art was even more surprising to find, inside the Crawford Gallery, home to a terrific collection of plaster casts of ancient statuary from the Vatican Museum. These casts were made by sculptor Antonio Canova under a commission from Pope Pius VII in 1816. How the casts arrived in Ireland is quite a tale, too lengthy to relate here. But how fortunate for us that they did. I remember being very impressed by the original of "Laocoon and His Sons" at the Vatican, and voila, here it is again. What a treat. I'll leave you with a taste of Irish gastronomy with some of the fine viands to be found at the English Market, probably the city's go-to attraction. Karen enjoys exploring in sprawling covered markets like this one. I just like ferreting out the weird stuff. I shall endeavor to carry on.

Smooth seas all the way. No cooking shows. Guest speaker Jim McParland spoke well and knowledgeably on astronomy, geology and natural processes; he was sort of an absent-minded professor, but he knew it and played off it well. HAL is also pushing the "Greatest Lecture Series at Sea," which consists of the cruise director (or whatever they call him now) reading canned copy from a teleprompter while he clicks through images and occasional videos on the big screen behind him. It was a smooth presentation, but nothing at all to do with where we were in the world. We went to the first one, about how surfing developed as a sport.

Our second day in the Azores is the city of Ponta Delgada on Sao Miguel island. It is the capital of the Azores, but the city has only about 20,000 people. After our car tour of Terceira, we stayed in town this time and enjoyed the sights. The center of the city, with its triple-arched city gate, is the Goncalo Velho Cabral Plaza. It is named for the Portugese monk and explorer credited with claiming the uninhabited island for Portugal, and his statue stands in front of the gates. Nearby is the Igreja de Sao Jose, whose fairly plain exterior conceals the gilded nave within. And connected to the square is the city's municipal plaza, where the city hall -- once a palatial private home -- is fronted by a statue of the island's patron saint, St. Michael the Archangel. No separation of church and state here. I was taken by the trees sprouting purple leaves in a public park. Maybe these are jacarandas, which we saw in Australia, but I'm no horticulturist. They's pretty, that's all I know. Speaking of growing things, they have pineapple plantations in the Azores. Who knew? We walked along a seaside street to the Forte de Sao Bras, a waterfront fort built around 1720 and still an active military installation. You can explore tunnels, view a military museum inside, and climb up on the walls for some nice views. An Army officer said hello to us and asked us if we were going to the ceremony. What ceremony? Turns out it is Navy Day in Portugal, which explains why the Navy ship parked next to our ship at the pier was fully festooned with flapping flags. The ceremony is a wreath-laying at a memorial to World War I sailors lost at sea, built into an outside wall of the fort, but the ceremony honors all Navy losses. The wreath was laid by the former (and first) president, Alvaro Monjardino (filling in for the incumbent during an overseas trip) and Ana Luis, president of the legislative assembly who serves as vice president. (No, I am not an authority on Azorean governance, but a friendly TV news reporter filled me in.) Not many tourists stopped to see what was going on as they passed on the street, but one little girl got a photo op after the ceremony with a member of the honor guard. We capped our town ramble with lattes at a lovely little waterfront coffee shop. Two lattes, total four bucks. I told the waitress that we would have to pay at least $10 in the U.S., and she was shocked. If you go, it's my fault the prices went up. At least for turistas. That'll do for now. Adios, amoebas.

Our first stop on this journey (after six mostly sunny days crossing the Atlantic) is Praia da Vitoria on the island of Terceira in the Azores. Terceira, barely one-tenth the size of Rhode Island, is one of nine islands that make up this semi-autonomous territory of Portugal. It lies over 1,000 miles from the Portugese mainland. These islands are the tip-tops of huge undersea mountains, rising almost two miles from the ocean floor. The Azores sit where three great tectonic plates (North American, European and African) rub up against each other, and the resulting volcanic burbling down in the depths gave rise to the islands. The Azores were uninhabited when the seafaring Portugese discovered them around 1450, although there is some inconclusive evidence of Viking settlement around 800 AD. (Interestingly, one piece of evidence is the fact that the DNA of Azorean mice is Scandinavian.) Terceira is lush and lovely, hilly and green, with farm fields fenced off by stone walls of volcanic rock wrestled from the soil, much as New Englanders had to do. The geometric patterns stand out from the viewpoint atop Serra do Cume. This volcanic rock is everywhere, including construction of barns, paddocks and such. Azoreans are about 90 percent Roman Catholic, with grand and impressive churches in every town. The Catholicism here is characterized by a special devotion to the Holy Spirit. This is manifested in the "imperios" -- little chapels, brightly painted, which are the focal point of religious festivals in honor of Espirito Santo held throughout the year, including a spring and summer season when each town takes its turn with a week-long blowout. We spotted at least 15 of these dollhouse churches on our circuit of Terceira, and I'm sure there are many more. The main churches are plenty impressive too. The grand blue church is the Igreja da Misericordia (Church of Mercy), right on the waterfront with a statue of seafarer Vasco da Gama out front. Columbus also stopped here on one of his journeys. The islanders have created several "piscinas" -- saltwater coastal swimming pools bounded by small breakwaters. Still a little chilly for a dip, but we saw a hardy few doing it. There are also hot springs on the island, but none have been developed into anything you can soak in. We took a walk through a small area of hissing and spitting fumaroles. Nice to see (not to smell), but certainly no competition for Yellowstone. We can't get away from helicopters, apparently. We were minding our own business. enjoying a splendid clifftop view, when a Coast Guard helicopter chop-chops its way toward us. It proceeded to dive up and down in front of the cliff face as personnel hung out of the open door. Ptacticing rescue maneuvers, I assume. Nice little unexpected show. That's all for today.... off to another island tomorrow.

Yes, May 12 is correct. Too late for me to edit, but I have asked the mods to fix it. Thanks.

Greetings from the Zuiderdam in the North Atlantic! I'm going to take a stab at chronicling our travels here, starting in Fort Lauderdale and circling the British Isles before heading to Norway, Iceland, Greenland and back home to Boston. A reset is exactly what we needed, and a cruise is a reset (and a recharge) like no other. We had a day to kill in Fort Lauderdale, so we rented a car and headed down to Miami to visit Wynwood Walls, an outdoor art gallery with 80,000 square feet of mural space. There's a lot of street art in the surrounding neighborhood too. Wynwood Walls also features sculptures, like this one depicting a handoff of the world to a new generation (here ya go, kid, hope you have better luck than I did with this old orb)... and an anime-inspired figure that greets you near the entrance. There are also a few interior galleries, and we were especially taken with the trompe l'oeil mastery of Dutch artist Leon Keer. It was not immediately apparent to us that the box hanging on the wall containing a vase is actually a two-dimensional painting, as the side-view photo illustrates. Just one of many illusions in the exhibit. Keer created the reset button art in the photo up top. It also is two-dimensional, painted on the cement, and Karen and I just stood on the "button." Pretty cool! We were going to do something else in Miami, but the traffic was so oppressive that we lit out for the territories: in this case, the Big Cypress National Preserve. Here there be gators, and some creepy-looking vultures too. We also got to see a different kind of bird: helicopters carrying slurry buckets, scooping up water to dump on a nearby forest fire. Not *too* nearby, thankfully. We headed back to Fort Lauderdale via Alligator Alley, a road that always sang out to me from maps. Nowhere near as exciting as the name suggests. After a terrific dinner at a Cuban restaurant (Padrino's), it was back to the hotel to rest up for the rigors of boarding the next morning. Not to mention six sea days to get started. All for now.

Wow. If I see that happening I will dispute the charge right away and cancel the dispute only when the credit appears on my Visa.

Hi Hank, I followed your travails with some interest. I thought this might interest you. We boarded the Zuiderdam on May 12. The other night I ordered a $12 glass of wine in the MDR. Checked my statement today, and I was charged the full $12 plus 18%, despite the prominently displayed note on the wine list that if you have the HIA package you will be charged only the amount over your plan maximum. Dude at front desk seemed perplexed, had to go ask someone in back, and after a few minutes said he would "notify the cellarmaster."

That is a very kind offer, but I want to make sure you're not putting yourself out too much. Please e-mail me at dr.dobro.2019@gmail.com and let's talk. Thanks!

I hope someone here can help me out. I am on the Zuiderdam en route from Fort Lauderdale to Rotterdam (and additional segments beyond). I neglected to bring half of the two-piece electrical cord for my CPAP machine. My son has retrieved it and will mail it to me. The most logical place to pick it up is Dover. In the U.S., we have General Delivery. You can send mail to anyone by directing it to John Doe, General Delivery, Podunk, Vermont, for example. I see Royal Mail has a service called Local Collect, but it appears that it can only be used for packages sent by a company that uses the service. Sender provides purchaser's email and phone to Royal Mail, which notifies purchaser when it has arrived at the PO, and you need to show the email or text (along with ID) to collect your package. I have asked about having the cord shipped to Zuiderdam's port agent in Rotterdam. I did this years ago when I lost a credit card and the company sent a replacement to the port agent in Amsterdam. But I am getting a lot of "Maybe, I don't know" from Guest Services, but a whiteshirt there has promised to contact the agent and ask. So I am waiting for word on that. Can anyone think of another option? Thanks in advance!

Bill & Mary Ann, Is there a book exchange on the Zuiderdam? Planning how many books to bring (we board Friday). I miss the libraries! Roger

Maybe this will help. We will be there on the Zuiderdam's return trans-Atlantic in a few weeks. By the way, thanks for all of your posts over the years. I am continually amazed at the depth of detail you provide, which has helped us plan many port visits.

Question for Hank, Cruisemom and other Japan cruisers: There was mention early on that Canaletto would switch to Tamarind menu every other week. How was that experience? Food quality vs. regular Tamarind? Any problems with Specialty Dining? Regular and 5 star price? Tamarind is our go-to option, loved it on Nieuw Statendam in Canada last year and on Eurodam in Europe years ago. We are doing Westerdam in Japan next year and have fingers crossed. Thanks!