Post 4 of . . .
Happy Diwali! I continue to wake up at the wee hours of the morning and this has helped me blog regularly in the last few days. Ain't this wonderful?:)
Today, I’ll switch gears and talk about people I met on the cruise and beyond instead of going on with the places. Let’s assume today is a sea day and that after crossing the Ionian Sea we are merging into the Aegean Sea as we move toward the narrow Dardennels and the Sea of Marmara where Istanbul is located.
On our previous cruises, mealtime was free style, meaning one had no set time to dine. On this cruise our travel agent asked us if we wanted to eat at 6 or 9. Six was too early and nine was a bit late but I picked six anyway. I was also asked if I ‘d like to sit by ourselves or sit with more folks. I said that four more people would be fine. This resulted in sitting with Gil and Lily and Ann and Colin, folks from England. When I first met them, I wondered how much I might have to strain my ears--though BBC-TV and -Radio trained--to understand their British accent. Luckily, it didn’t take too long and by the third day, I felt that my own accent was drifting back toward British, which at one time, coming from India, it used to border on. At least, my American friends told me that it did.
Our conversations flowed easily and touched upon any number of subjects. Me a liberated career woman (though not on the "fast track" anymore), and Gil a retired nuclear engineer, tended to lay many of the world’s problems to the breakdown of the traditional family, which we mostly attributed to the career aspirations of a woman. Gil was afraid he might labeled a sexist and I assured him that we were all just throwing a few opinions around and nothing more. Gil, a father of two successful career women, suggested that women these days wanted "everything" and this was the problem, while his charming and sweet wife Lily, a homemaker, smiled sheepishly. I couldn’t tell if she agreed with him or quietly mocked him: so what’s so wrong about that? She had this quiet personality and a disarming smile that could probably help her get away with murder so to speak. I think she thought with her hands because often when she had something profound to say, her hands would come together and her fingertips would tap each other softly. This action reminded me of Mr. Burns on the popular TV Show: The Simpsons. But he is a mean guy. I could tell Lily was a deep thinker and I was pleasantly surprised that we both shared the same zodiac sign.
Ann, an English teacher in a non-traditional college where it seemed the students were all foreigners (she herself at one time was married to an Iranian; her job gave access to some interesting cultural stories--some hilarious and some sad), sounded a bit defensive on the subject. She said that not all women had a choice. Overall, it was a civil exchange and it was concluded that it was a complex subject.
In light of the discovery of billions of dollars of worth of treasures in a temple in southern India run by the local royal family, I ribbed the British that thank God that they were all hidden from their eyes when they ruled India. Gil "pleaded" with me to show him up as the rightful owner and promised me a 10% commission:)
We spent a solid twelve evenings with these two couples and I think we have becomes friends for life. I even think that Gil "sized up my personality" to the nth degree. I think that we actually shared some common traits. Some have called me a black mustard seed and others a peppercorn, apparently for the punch these spices pack. Even B feels I pack a lot of punch which I’m not sure is necessarily good or bad.
Talking of personalities, our waiter was quite a character. A big guy with a big smile and high energy who I think took offense that I thought that he was south American. I think he said that his mother was German and his father Romanian (?). He took great pleasure in recommending, particularly to me a vegetarian, what to order from the menu. The food in the restuarant was mediocre at best. But for the company at the table and the conversation, I’d have preferred eating free style at Windjammer the main cafeteria where the variety and the quality of the fare was much better.
It was a delight to watch Ann and Colin dance on the dance floor. She wore the most excquisite dance dresses, a different color each day. Colin seemed like a perfectionist. I think he was. He even dressed impeccably and every slicked back hair on his head was in place.
Others we met were usually during breakfast in the Windjammer (on the final day a couple from Sweden that had moved to southern France near Toulouse 12 years ago to avoid the cold and damp Swedish climate; at one time, he was a ship captain himself ,and his wife’s uncle was an ambassador to many countries, one of them, India) or at lunch or at the hot tub or the Trivia games played three times a day or at the one-time late night buffet.
The Trivia game players split ourselves up into teams and usually we did not switch teams. On our team Stella and Liz were from Cork (so our team took the name: Corkonians), Ireland, perennial-cruisers Joyce and her sister were from near Dallas,Texas. Heavy-set Joyce with her fluffed out silver white short curly hair, probably in her late 60’s, possibly as a Trivia aficionado, was a walking encyclopedia and fiercely competitive and a bit domineering and even a bit conceited at times and thus a little intimidating. I don't think she believed in spelling corrrectly, though, unless waiste for waist was just an oversight. Of the dozen teams that competed, our team ended up being number 2 overall. The winning team was ahead of us just by three points and they got all the prizes.
On the ship, I even met an Irish priest. I opened my conversation with my watching a few years back the very funny movie, Waking Ned Devine (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waking_Ned), set in Ireland. He had not heard of it, but when I told him the story, he cracked up. Particularly the character of Lizzy the misanthrope made him throw his head back and laugh out loud with a show of recognition.
Later, he tried to comfort me when I told him about my missing my recently deceased dad (When a loved one is alive and well, we're afraid of losing him/her, and, eventually, when, we do lose him/her, how much we wish we could have stopped death through some miracle or at least had a chance to know what was the last thing on their mind!; apparently, Steve Jobs's last words: Oh, wow uttered three times). He explained that because we live an imperfect world pain is inevitable. I brought up how Steve Jobs (http://www.nytimes.com/2011/10/30/opinion/mona-simpsons-eulogy-for-steve-jobs.html?pagewanted=all) had called "death life’s best invention," and the priest releasing a laugh agreed wholeheartedly. We talked about after life and he insisted that my dad as a human will come back only as a human and not as a tree or an insect and so on like some might believe, but not back to this world as he’d have moved on to that perfect world, which is where all who died went. I said to him that my dad might return to his family as a member of the next generation. The Father sitting before me disagreed.
I brought up the atheist and British writer, Christopher Hitchens’s (whom I do admire am truly sorry to see him dying of cancer) name and commented, how for an atheist he obsessed over God’s existence so much, and the priest laughed in agreement. My English dinner companions, who were not particularly religious, had no knowldge of Hitchens and I was surprised.
B met more people because he regularly played table tennis (TT) with a bunch of TT fanatics. One evening, B and I played chess and guess who won? You guessed right:) And yes, I'm known for my modesty! At the Trivia games I learned that a group of owls are called a parliament of owls! Go figure.
Since not everbody on the ship spoke English, we could not make more friends. Others we met included Madeline from Puerto Rico who communicated in English quite well, a Scottish couple who revealed to us that the Welsh couple they met spoke only in Welsh and possibly they gossiped about the Scottish couple, Jenny and Tony pushing 70 from New Mexico who have gone on so many cruises they have lost count, another Tony and his wife Julie both from England and the German couple Andrea (?sp) and her husband Madfred. He apparently, biked to work. Their daughter was away in France as part of the German educational system where a student spent half a year every year in another country of his/her choice. It was hard to udnerstadn their Englsih quite clearly.
In Istanbul, at the Turkish Dinner in Taksim Square we met Nick (a Hungarian who grew up in Austria and now lives in Los Angeles) and his Mexican-born wife Celia, both probably in their early 70's, and two other couples from Canada (Steve and Pam, and Marie and ?). At lunch on our tour in Istanbul we also met Vivek and his pregnant wife Karen from Switzerland and Caitlin and Mark possibly in their late 20's married for just a week and on their honeymoon from North Carolina. The two of them who had known each other for nearly a decade, but Mark apparently proposed to Caitlin just a week before the marriage! During lunch, Mark's thumb kept rubbing his wedding ring and Mark joked that he was still getting used to the ring.
I had trouble distinguishing between the various accents of the non-American English speaking groups onboard. Apparently, the British were the most in number (close to 500) followed by Americans, Spanish and the rest. I even met a few from a town close to where I live. And another interesting couple Consuela and Alexander from Colombia who now live in Beijing. He works for the oil industry.
Tomorrow Istanbul.
Ciao!
Showing posts with label Cruising. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cruising. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Greece, Cruising
Post 1 of . . .
Just got back on the 22nd from a fabulous 12-night round trip cruise from Barcelona to Messina, Sicily to Corfu, Greece to Istanbul, Turkey to Athens, Greece to Palermo, Sicilty. It’s 3 a.m. Sunday morning, and I am naturally, still on Europe time. This was my second trip to Athens, and so we were able to stay clear of most tourist spots and be more adventurous. The best way to rub shoulders with the local population is to do the things they do, which in our case included riding the local trains, walking the back alleys and discovering interesting places on our own. We did this in Barcelona as well where, in fact, in the fall of 2010, we stayed in a rented apartment (in one instance along with friends) for a week split in two parts. I wrote about this experience soon after I returned. The highlight of such an adventure this time was climbing to the highest point in Athens, the Lycabettus Hill (http://www.virtualtourist.com/travel/Europe/Greece/Prefecture_of_Attica/Athens-426812/Things_To_Do-Athens-Lycabettus_Hill-BR-1.html), where the tiny 19th century St. George’s church holds the most spectacular 360 degree panoramic view of Athens. At a distance, you can look down on the dwarfed Parthenon. Your hands get tired from photographing the breathtaking view. It’s one stop east on the train (the blue line) from Syntagma Square station near the parliament. Don’t try to walk it because the distance could be considerable if you’re pressed for time.
Rumors about the threat of strike flew about. But, we followed our instincts, bought a day pass for 4 euros each and took the train (green line) from the pier in Piraeus, went to the Plaka (Monistiraki Metro stop), walked around a bit, visited the well-tended (no sign of any economic distress was evident) National Garden next to the Parliament dotted with several school children shepherded by an adult presumably their teacher and then went to Lycabettus (station name: Evengelismos). Really a rewarding experience. Walking the back alleys of this hilly area to get to the hill top, we also heard the most amazing soulful accordion music which sounded inspired by the beauty of the leafy shady streets. I followed the sound and found the player. He was a young soulful looking guy who seemed to be enjoying himself playing the accordion. I gave him some change as most street musicians expect this of the passers by.
This solitary tranquility was contrasted by Greece’s present angry mood illustrated by its mounting uncollected garbage in every street corner. The scenes we saw on TV the next day made us realize how lucky we were that the one day we were in town Greece was open for business. It shut down the next day.
We did encounter reminders of the country’s mood through a few demonstrations and loud angry music blaring from the Finance Ministry across from the Parliament. The Plaka was lined with security personnel on the ready, guns and rifles in hand. On two separate instances, I saw at least a couple of women each, Madonna-like, with a child sitting on the sidewalk with stretched out hands hoping for some coins from passers by and even one young couple looking emaciated asking for handout from passers by. This felt like a true Greek tragedy. By the same token, some con artists also roamed the streets. For instance, while we waited for our order at a restaurant, four well-dressed guys showed up with musical instruments and one burly guy among them with handsome face, purportedly the leader, belted out a few lines of Never on a Sunday in Greek and then within seconds with a sense of entitlement came around with a hat and extended it to the patrons with a sense of entitlement. Without blinking an eyelid, I parted with an euro but soon kicked myself because the bandits moved on to the next set of suckers without finishing the song which was my expectation as I myself was midway along with them. Later, I felt better when an Internet cafe operator who would sell me only half hour time for 2 euros but not fifteen minutes for one euro, which is all the time I could spare, within seconds changed his mind and let me use his free time when he realized that I needed to check just my e-mail needing no more than three minutes max. And he spoke excellent English.
Next, a better experience awaited me at the train station. Monistiraki Metro stop is a busy station. It’s like a hub. We had to take the train station. Signs were not clearly marked and everything was in Greek. As we tried figuring out which way to go, I decided to ask someone who might understand English. I got lucky right away. I went up to a young man (he turned out to be just fifteen) with virgin facial hair coming up the stairs and he said, "follow me." We did. We had to walk quite a bit and then at the platform not only was it very crowded (it was around three p.m.) but the train we had to take was supposed to be on the track on the other side. It turned out that only one set of tracks was operating. So when the train on our tracks arrived, the young man spoke to another person on the platform and came back and informed us that the train would return after the next and last stop and then it would go to Piraeus, our destination. So we waited for this to happen but when the train returned it did not stop at our station.
The young man (Jim; real name, Dimitris) was very apologetic saying he had misunderstood. Anyway, another train packed with people and going in the opposite direction arrived soon enough and all three of us managed to get in. After it went up to the terminus it changed direction toward Piraeus. We even managed to get seats. I remarked to Jim that we were lucky to get seats. Calmly he said that we were alert. I was impressed with this take.
During the next twenty-minute ride I asked Jim many questions and he asked me some, too, and when he heard we were from New York, his eyes lit up and he said that this is one place he dreams of visiting one day. I retorted that Greece was such a lovely place where I found excellent workmanship. No, I was not referring to their Parthenon. I took out a pair of comfortable suede pumps I had bought that morning at the Plaka and showed them off to him. He said Greeks liked American things very much. He sported a nice horizontal-striped stylish water-resistant jacket over his denim trousers and I asked about the jacket and he said it was the Fox Brand and I think he had Adidas sneakers. At one point, he wanted to see a dollar bill. B had one and he showed it to Jim and also asked to keep it as good luck. Jim refused but B insisted and then Jim took it, examined it, looked happy and put it away. A perceptive guy, Jim asked me why I insisted that he take the money with his right hand. Without going into any cultural angle to it, B said that right hand was supposed to bring good luck. Jim smiled.
At one point, Jim in his halted English asked if young men were big and muscled in the U.S. He himself was of a slight built. As a mother of two sons, I could relate to his interest in this subject. He also thought they were all gangsters, which I just didn’t get. Anyway, we corrected his misperception and Jim smiled again. I gave him my e-mail id and he said he’d like to "facebook" me and so I gave him my correct name. When we parted company, it felt sad. We gave each other a hug and in the European style, Jim planted a kiss on both my cheeks and shook hands with B. I saw him on the 18th and on the 22nd when I opened my e-mail since the 18th, I found Jim’s Facebook invite. Of course, I accepted. The best part of travel in bumping into interesting strangers like Jim and, on a cruise, actually making some long-time friends.
More later, starting with Messina the home of Mt. Etna and Taormina, a place that I really loved.
Ciao!
Just got back on the 22nd from a fabulous 12-night round trip cruise from Barcelona to Messina, Sicily to Corfu, Greece to Istanbul, Turkey to Athens, Greece to Palermo, Sicilty. It’s 3 a.m. Sunday morning, and I am naturally, still on Europe time. This was my second trip to Athens, and so we were able to stay clear of most tourist spots and be more adventurous. The best way to rub shoulders with the local population is to do the things they do, which in our case included riding the local trains, walking the back alleys and discovering interesting places on our own. We did this in Barcelona as well where, in fact, in the fall of 2010, we stayed in a rented apartment (in one instance along with friends) for a week split in two parts. I wrote about this experience soon after I returned. The highlight of such an adventure this time was climbing to the highest point in Athens, the Lycabettus Hill (http://www.virtualtourist.com/travel/Europe/Greece/Prefecture_of_Attica/Athens-426812/Things_To_Do-Athens-Lycabettus_Hill-BR-1.html), where the tiny 19th century St. George’s church holds the most spectacular 360 degree panoramic view of Athens. At a distance, you can look down on the dwarfed Parthenon. Your hands get tired from photographing the breathtaking view. It’s one stop east on the train (the blue line) from Syntagma Square station near the parliament. Don’t try to walk it because the distance could be considerable if you’re pressed for time.
Rumors about the threat of strike flew about. But, we followed our instincts, bought a day pass for 4 euros each and took the train (green line) from the pier in Piraeus, went to the Plaka (Monistiraki Metro stop), walked around a bit, visited the well-tended (no sign of any economic distress was evident) National Garden next to the Parliament dotted with several school children shepherded by an adult presumably their teacher and then went to Lycabettus (station name: Evengelismos). Really a rewarding experience. Walking the back alleys of this hilly area to get to the hill top, we also heard the most amazing soulful accordion music which sounded inspired by the beauty of the leafy shady streets. I followed the sound and found the player. He was a young soulful looking guy who seemed to be enjoying himself playing the accordion. I gave him some change as most street musicians expect this of the passers by.
This solitary tranquility was contrasted by Greece’s present angry mood illustrated by its mounting uncollected garbage in every street corner. The scenes we saw on TV the next day made us realize how lucky we were that the one day we were in town Greece was open for business. It shut down the next day.
We did encounter reminders of the country’s mood through a few demonstrations and loud angry music blaring from the Finance Ministry across from the Parliament. The Plaka was lined with security personnel on the ready, guns and rifles in hand. On two separate instances, I saw at least a couple of women each, Madonna-like, with a child sitting on the sidewalk with stretched out hands hoping for some coins from passers by and even one young couple looking emaciated asking for handout from passers by. This felt like a true Greek tragedy. By the same token, some con artists also roamed the streets. For instance, while we waited for our order at a restaurant, four well-dressed guys showed up with musical instruments and one burly guy among them with handsome face, purportedly the leader, belted out a few lines of Never on a Sunday in Greek and then within seconds with a sense of entitlement came around with a hat and extended it to the patrons with a sense of entitlement. Without blinking an eyelid, I parted with an euro but soon kicked myself because the bandits moved on to the next set of suckers without finishing the song which was my expectation as I myself was midway along with them. Later, I felt better when an Internet cafe operator who would sell me only half hour time for 2 euros but not fifteen minutes for one euro, which is all the time I could spare, within seconds changed his mind and let me use his free time when he realized that I needed to check just my e-mail needing no more than three minutes max. And he spoke excellent English.
Next, a better experience awaited me at the train station. Monistiraki Metro stop is a busy station. It’s like a hub. We had to take the train station. Signs were not clearly marked and everything was in Greek. As we tried figuring out which way to go, I decided to ask someone who might understand English. I got lucky right away. I went up to a young man (he turned out to be just fifteen) with virgin facial hair coming up the stairs and he said, "follow me." We did. We had to walk quite a bit and then at the platform not only was it very crowded (it was around three p.m.) but the train we had to take was supposed to be on the track on the other side. It turned out that only one set of tracks was operating. So when the train on our tracks arrived, the young man spoke to another person on the platform and came back and informed us that the train would return after the next and last stop and then it would go to Piraeus, our destination. So we waited for this to happen but when the train returned it did not stop at our station.
The young man (Jim; real name, Dimitris) was very apologetic saying he had misunderstood. Anyway, another train packed with people and going in the opposite direction arrived soon enough and all three of us managed to get in. After it went up to the terminus it changed direction toward Piraeus. We even managed to get seats. I remarked to Jim that we were lucky to get seats. Calmly he said that we were alert. I was impressed with this take.
During the next twenty-minute ride I asked Jim many questions and he asked me some, too, and when he heard we were from New York, his eyes lit up and he said that this is one place he dreams of visiting one day. I retorted that Greece was such a lovely place where I found excellent workmanship. No, I was not referring to their Parthenon. I took out a pair of comfortable suede pumps I had bought that morning at the Plaka and showed them off to him. He said Greeks liked American things very much. He sported a nice horizontal-striped stylish water-resistant jacket over his denim trousers and I asked about the jacket and he said it was the Fox Brand and I think he had Adidas sneakers. At one point, he wanted to see a dollar bill. B had one and he showed it to Jim and also asked to keep it as good luck. Jim refused but B insisted and then Jim took it, examined it, looked happy and put it away. A perceptive guy, Jim asked me why I insisted that he take the money with his right hand. Without going into any cultural angle to it, B said that right hand was supposed to bring good luck. Jim smiled.
At one point, Jim in his halted English asked if young men were big and muscled in the U.S. He himself was of a slight built. As a mother of two sons, I could relate to his interest in this subject. He also thought they were all gangsters, which I just didn’t get. Anyway, we corrected his misperception and Jim smiled again. I gave him my e-mail id and he said he’d like to "facebook" me and so I gave him my correct name. When we parted company, it felt sad. We gave each other a hug and in the European style, Jim planted a kiss on both my cheeks and shook hands with B. I saw him on the 18th and on the 22nd when I opened my e-mail since the 18th, I found Jim’s Facebook invite. Of course, I accepted. The best part of travel in bumping into interesting strangers like Jim and, on a cruise, actually making some long-time friends.
More later, starting with Messina the home of Mt. Etna and Taormina, a place that I really loved.
Ciao!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
