Just Go to Barcelona

I was going to do part two of traveling through Spain, this time from Barcelona.  But let me just say this.  I lived in Madrid for a year; I've been to Barcelona for only two days.  I felt more welcome in Barca.  So here's my (revised) take on traveling through Spain.  Go to Madrid and thereabouts to see Spain.  Along with Leon and Toledo, Madrid has been the capital of what everyone in the English-speaking world knows as "Spain" for nearly a thousands years.  Barcelona ain't part of that.  Castilians fought the Reconquista against the Caliphates of Cordoba and Granada for control of the deserts of La Mancha and Murcia.  The Aragonese (and the Portuguese) thought that was a complete waste of money.  They built merchant fleets and set up trading routes.  Oh, and they speak different languages.  Catalan, spoken in Barcelona is closer to French than the lispy Castellano that the rest of the world calls "Spanish."  So don't go to Barca to see "Spain."  Go to Barca to see Catalonia and its beautiful coast and mountains or as a gateway to the forests of Asturias.  But do go.  By sea, if possible.

As you approach Barca from the Mediterranean, you immediately notice two things: first, there is a magnificent (and sprawling) castle overlooking the industrial port; second, the beaches here are actually enhanced by the infrastructure, the broad placas inviting people to enjoy a communal beach experience.

Geography, history, and culture conspire to make Spain's two great cities rivals and, sometimes, incomprehensible to each other.  While Madrid has neo-Roman monuments everywhere, Barcelona's intersections and roundabouts have whimsical statues and... well, I'm not sure what to call an installation that arches from one boulevard to another.  Whatever this project technically is, I like it.  And it damn sure beats Madrid's Valley of the Fallen.  The palm trees of course, don't hurt.

The Las Rambles promenade... well, go and see for yourself.  Where else are you going to find pet shops and gladiators on the same street?

Cruising Around Europe: Warnemunde

Take a look at the ports on a typical Baltic Sea cruise itinerary:

Harwick

Amsterdam

Copenhagen

Stockholm

Helsinki

St. Petersburg

Tallinn

Berlin

Harwick

Ok, let's see.  One of London's two principal commercial ports,  one of Europe's most historic merchant ports, the headquarters of the world's largest shipping company... Berlin?!  Anyone who's ever read about the Berlin Airlift (never mind actually been there) knows Berlin is not a port.  In fact, it's a two-hour train journey from the Oostzee- the German name for the Baltic.  Cruise ships dock at the seaside resort town of Warnemunde, a long-time possession of the Hanseatic City of Rostock.

While most cruise passengers immediately hop on the train to Berlin, I strongly recommend staying in Warnemunde/ Rostock.  The round-trip from the coast to the dynamic German capital takes four hours- roughly half the time most ships stay in port;  Berlin demands more from visitors than an afternoon.  If all you want is to see the Wall from a bus window, just stay on board and look it up on Google.

More importantly, Rostock is a beautiful town in its own right and, often neglected by tourists, easy to navigate.  The crowds, such as they are, are only in the medieval Mariakirk, since the restoration effort blocks all but one entrance.  Even if you despise feeling like a herded sheep (and I completely understand), the massive vaulted ceilings are an architectural masterpiece.  Even better, since the ceilings are still coated in plaster, you aren't blinded by the faux gilt in most churches that suffered at the hands of Baroque vandals... er, artists.

The early medieval convent is a stark reminder that this orderly, comfortable town was not always so hospitable- more than a few unwanted young women were more or less imprisoned here, for alleged scandals or simple inconvenience.

The town square is entertaining and you might just find yourself wondering,

 "If this is what they memorialize in the town square, what the hell are they doing behind closed doors?!" 

(Note: This photograph is courtesy of Lynx-travel.com)

Don't worry.  The residents are just as embarrassed as you would be if there was a large sexually-suggestive fountain with children and farm animals in the center of your town.  This monument to the "socialist family" (seriously!) was imposed upon, er... given to the city by the East German government.  At least students at the University of Rostock have great stories to take home to Stuttgart.

Rostock's Hanseatic Brewery is not nearly as old as its name suggests, but it does produce an excellent pilsner in accordance with the genuinely aged German Purity Laws.  If you've ever seen a conveyor belt before, you needn't bother with the brewery tour since the "tour" is a climb up quite a few flights of stairs (no, there is not an elevator) to a viewing platform overlooking the bottling facility.  Just stay on the street level and enjoy the beer- the pils and a (solid, but undistinguished) lager.  Plus, they send you home with souvenir pils glasses.

Take advantage of your stopover here and get out and see the town.  Have an ice cream by Warnemunde's beach, or stroll through the center of Rostock.  Either way, you'll have spent the day much better than being cooped up and whizzed through Berlin.

South Shore Beaches

Gratuitous beauty shots of Bermuda's South Shore...

and some debris at the  Dockyard with a "ship-y" feel. 

Dawn in Bermuda

So much for linear thinking... as a birthday surprise, my wonderful wife booked us on the Norwegian Dawn's "Bermuda Run;" we returned yesterday.  We had a great time and had an unexpected opportunity to really experience some of Britain's oldest overseas territory.   Since I completely geek out over maritime history, waking up to find our cruise ship docked next to the Dockyards, the former Headquarters of the British Navy's Western Atlantic and West Indies Station, was incredibly cool.  Bermuda's pink sand beaches and history make for a great vacation spot.  We will definitely be back to dive some of those wrecks!

Having said that, anyone interested in joining the Dawn on her Bermuda Run should be aware of a few things.

Good news first: most of the crew onboard are excellent and do an amazing job responding to very... discerning passengers from the New York metro area. We ate at Cagney's Steakhouse twice, five days apart; the maitre'd and waitress remembered our names, the deck we were staying on, and our preferences for seating, drinks, and cooking time for steaks.  Granted, we do not look like most passengers onboard and we tip above the included gratuity for good service, but I can't get a restaurant in my neighborhood to get my drink order right.  If I owned a restaurant, I'd have poached a full shift from the Dawn.  Our cabin stewards were by far the the best we've had on now eight cruises and I would make the housekeeping section head a manager in any land-based hotel.  Finally, the musicians and entertainers onboard are a cut above other NCL ships, particularly the Jade (where it was actually painful to wait for dinner anywhere near the piano lounge).  I hope NCL recognizes what they have and we wrote S.T.Y.L.E. cards to call these people to their attention. 

So.  Now that I've sung the praises of Bermuda and the hardest working crew at sea (and I sincerely mean that), on to the parts where Bermuda and NCL need to get their acts together.  Since this was a spur-of-the-moment, found-a-cheap-fare kind of trip, I frankly wasn't planning to blog at all.  Just post some pictures and raise a Dark and Stormy to the island.  Cin had even pre-booked a shore excursion for each of the three days we were supposed to be in port.  We were hoping to be the people we usually make fun of being herded about on luxury motor coaches.  However, the Dawn's Shore Excursion Staff was having none of that. 

We arrived in our (very nice) balcony stateroom to find that our Horseshoe Beach Transfer had been cancelled for "logistical reasons."  For those of you who aren't familiar with these things, a beach transfer is a roundtrip on a bus to a famous beach. Period. It requires only a bus, driver, and usually one or two crew members to make sure all the cattle... er, guests get off and at least 90% of them get back on at the end of the three or four hours.  "Logistics" in this case requires nothing more complicated than a phone to a local bus company, preferably prior to advertising the trip on NCL's website.  Nevertheless, the Dawn's crack team of travel experts couldn't pull it off.

Instead, we bought a Transportation Pass, picked up a bus and ferry map, and went out to the South Shore Beaches on our own.  The walk down to Horseshoe Bay is a bit steep, but an enterprising Onion offers one-way van service for $1 (going down) or $2 (coming back up).  We had a great time and I can't recommend these beaches enough.  Most of them are connected by sandy paths through the volcanic rocks, so if one is too crowded for your tastes, then just keep walking.  If you get to the nearly mile-long Warwick Bay and still can't find enough room, you're too picky.  Or the two of you should just get a room!

The second day we were in Bermuda, we had a Discover Scuba Diving excursion. The tour was operated by Nathan and Melissa from Fantasea; they did an outstanding job properly preparing us for scuba diving and were very attentive under water.  I cannot praise these two highly enough since the experience convinced Cindy to get SCUBA certified!  (Compare this to the last time I tried this- in St. Maarten- where she got hypothermia and motion sickness from bobbing up and down for an hour in deep water off Ft. Amsterdam after the "guide" became disoriented underwater and led us out to sea.)

However, the Shore Excursion staff had overbooked the DSD trip and didn't inform Fantasea that they would need another instructor (after a few reports like our St. Maarten fiasco, PADI only allows 4 non-certified divers per instructor).  So while 8 of us went out, the other two were left to entertain themselves at 9 Beaches Resort; when our group finished, most of us went to the beach or the snack bar to wait for the last two guys.  To our surprise, we were gathered up and led out of the resort to a van, operated by West End Minibuses.  (It is not clear to me whether Fantasea or NCL initiated this land pickup since Fantasea had delivered us to the resort by boat).  Still curious as to why we weren't waiting for the two still in the water, we barely had time to register that the driver stopped a few steps from the entrance to pick up two locals.  (When we discussed this trip afterwards, most of our group said they were unconcerned at the time since the driver obviously knew the two young men.) 

To make a long- frankly, horrifying- story short, one of the guys was stoned/drunk/high and repeatedly cursed "American, Canadians, all them f*cking foreigners" and made obscene threats to the women in our group, especially to Cindy who had the terrible luck to be sitting in front of him.   Only when two of us began to get out of our seats did the driver put him out at a gas station.  Cindy was visibly shaken and we both spent the rest of our time in Bermuda looking over our shoulder.  While NCL did refund our excursion fees, I never received an explanation of how this happened in the first place.  I did hear from other passengers that some young Bermudians are unhappy with the influx of tourists, especially white tourists, but I don't know if this is truly a pervasive view or if we just ran into a drunk.

Finally- and this is what most irritates me about the Dawn's Shore Excursion team- the third excursion we had booked was an Exclusive Yacht Charter.  When we saw our beach transfer had been cancelled, we immediately went to make sure our yacht charter was still on or if we should book something else.  We were reassured that no matter if someone else signed up or not, we would still be sailing- if no one else signed up, we would have a private tour of Bermuda!  Since we were cruising to celebrate my birthday, we were really excited.  Until we heard on Thursday night that our yacht had been cancelled for the next morning due to "lack of interest."  When we protested to the Assistant Manager, we were told we had been given the wrong information earlier.  After some arguing, we were offered two tickets on a "booze cruise, so don't worry about kids.  Beer pong keeps them away.  I had a great time last month."  Beer pong at sea.  Great.  

"Ok," I asked the Assistant Manager, "so, where does the party boat take us?"  

"Drinking."  

Sheesh.  We gave up and took a bus to Church Bay for the day.

Today's Message:  

• Enjoy your time on the Dawn.  
  
• Treat the crew with respect and you'll get excellent service.  
  
• Ignore the Shore Excursion Staff.  
  
• Bring cash with you for a multi-day transportation pass, good on the buses and ferries, and explore on your own.  
  
• And don't get anywhere near a minibus!
  

A Quick Tour of Spain: From Madrid

On the Fodor's Travel Forum (managed by my friend from college, Katie Hamlin), a writer asked for suggestions for traveling through Spain. I answered specific questions there, but am posting a cleaned-up version here in case any readers are also interested.

There are two obvious starting points in Spain, Madrid and Barcelona, and these lead to very different trips. Since I lived in Madrid for a year, I'll start there. It is very easy to spend four or five days in the Spanish capital, eating tapas, drinking cheap Rioja or tempranillo wine, and relaxing in the Retiro Park (I recommend the paddle boats in the lago and helados from the street vendors). That would be the "authentic" Madrileno experience. But since I have yet to meet the person who has any intention of flying across the Atlantic to relax, here's the whirlwind tour:

Assuming you are flying into Madrid's Barajas International Airport, enjoy the tapas- I recommend El Diamante's patatas bravas and anything from the former bull pens under the Plaza Mayor; the wines, especially granaja and tempranillo from La Mancha and Rioja. You should definitely make plans to visit the Segovian aqueduct and Alcazar (the exterior is enough to get the WOW! factor and great pictures, so save yourself the climb up and the admission price). Also, take the train to Toledo, where Europe's finest swords were made for centuries (and allegedly from where the United States' Marines still purchase their ceremonial sabres).  

"There's a church, there's a castle, there's another church, there's the bar. I'll be there if you need me."

Seriously, check out the city walls, wander through the streets, and just be there.

For other day trips out of Madrid, if you are renting a car, I'd recommend La Granja (an immense palace modeled rather convincingly after Versailles); Valle de los Caidos (that's the huge cross in the mountains that you can see from almost anywhere in Madrid; bear in mind though, that the cross and the monastery underneath it is a memorial/crypt for a fascist dictator-Franco- so be prepared to be a little creeped out while you marvel at the view of Madrid); and Chinchon, a quaint village with a Romanesque church where they still have bullfights in the Plaza Mayor (not in a bull ring) and you should spend siesta having drinks in a balcony overlooking the square. 

 

If you don't have a car, I would stay in Madrid instead of navigating the Spanish trains. You can easily spend a day each in the Prado (for the Velasquez's, at least), the Reina Sofia (seeing Picasso's massive Guernica should definitely be on your to-do list), the Retiro (rent a paddleboat and see the Egyptian temple, hauled back to Spain piece by piece), the Plaza del Sol/Plaza Mayor (spend one night eating at the taperias in the old bull pens). Finally, if you're up for it, see a bullfight in the Plaza de Toros. By the way, if you're interested in seeing a live bullfight, I'd suggest looking through Hemingway's Death in the Afternoon, still the best English-language book on Spain's peculiar institution, before you go so you'll understand what you're seeing. 

Well, now you're short for time so which should you see, Sevilla or Granada? I'd say it depends what your priorities are. Sevilla is more culturally important today- it is the home of the Sevillana (flamenco) dance and the Triana district is traditionally gypsy (though gentrification has changed this to a large extent). Also, Sevilla's Plaza de Toros is arguably the most prestigious is Spain and you might see a truly fascinating "first fight", again, if bullfighting is intriguing to you at all.  

Despite all that, for my money, I'd go with Granada. The Alhambra is indeed a staggering achievement- honestly, a work of art in stone- and you can see the Mediterranean Sea from the nearby mountains. Also, if you stay in Granada, you can take a day trip to the Costa del Sol. If you go to the coast, I'd recommend Malaga for its Gibralfaro (the castle/ former lighthouse) at the top of this post); Marbella/ Puerta Banus to see extravagance afloat; or Nerja (at right) to see the cave paintings.

And now for something completely different...

I was informed that my last post was rather boring and could have come from wikipedia.  So in an effort to keep both my readers engaged, here are pictures of cute animals from various places I'll describe in more detail later.  

All of these pictures come from our trip to Australia, New Zealand, and Fiji in 2007. 

The Melbourne Zoo has a family of Sumatran tigers in a huge enclosure, complete with stream running through it.  The juveniles played togeth

er like our cats.  This one is marking her territory and purred so loudly I had to take a picture.  

Cindy took this picture in Sydney at the rehabilitation facility/ education center in Darling Harbor.  How can you not love a face like that?  

This picture was taken at the Melbourne Zoo as well, but we saw the same species flying wild near Cairns- ever seen sparrows flock?  Lorikeets do the same thing, just in neon. 

And finally, I took this picture off a highway near Christchurch, New Zealand.  The road ran right to the edge of the water and sitting on the rocks were about three dozen seals, just basking in the sun.  

St. Petersburg, Russia

About the third bridge, we started recognizing him: this same guy was following our boat.  And he kept running after the canal boat- even over ridiculous distances, he would sprint fast enough to be in the middle of the bridge by the time our boat went under it.  Apparently, a lot of kids do this to make some extra money during the summer.  Honestly, I have no idea how someone 

came up with this idea, but it worked: we gave him some bills at the end where he was waiting with the that universal gesture: an open palm.  Clearly, he had done this before and knew the exact route of the canal boat.  The local tourism board should really pay kids like this: it definitely makes an otherwise somewhat foreboding city seem very friendly.  In every picture we took of St. Petersburg's canals, this same blonde kid was waving at our boat from the nearest bridge.  

I've noticed a pattern: cities that are built in highly questionable locations and still survive tend to have a culture apart from whatever larger community they are a part of.  Think New Orleans- located in a formerly malarial swamp and rebuilt three times in the 1700s and prone to flooding from rainstorms, never mind hurricanes; Miami- the Seminole knew that the Devil Wind had a particular affinity for the coast near the Florida Straits; San Francisco- right on that fault line, huh? Good job, boys!  And the Netherlands- the need for more sandbaggers to ward off the North Sea and the rivers trumped the need for religious homogeneity.

St. Petersburg follows the pattern.  Built on a swamp 120 miles from the strongest European kingdom at the time (Sweden), the city was intended to be Peter the Great's "Window on the West" as he sought to drag Russia kicking and screaming out of the Dark Ages.  All of this was cute and tolerated by the nobles- until he made this little village his capital and moved the court.  There is still something... quaint and endearing about the log cabin the czar lived in as he supervised construction of his new city.  It really is very simple and no larger than most American houses (at least in rural areas)- just a ranch-style house with exposed beams (now facaded with stone) with a long porch looking out onto the River.  It's pretty easy to image the Czar of all the Russias sitting out, smoking his pipe, and utterly despising the ostentatiousness and self-conceit of most of his nobles.

From that start, St. Petersburg has always been a bit different- its architecture is Baroque Italian with winding canals joining the rivers and draining the natural swamp.  With bridges everywhere (often clearly named based on the color of the paint used), the central city gives off a slightly Mediterranean vibe.

When you think of the intrigue and plots that have percolated through St. Petersburg, the spirit of Machiavelli does seem alive and well.  Czar Alexander II was assassinated near the Neva River and his successor built the Church of Our Savior on (Alexander's) Spilled Blood (not "Our Savior's Spilled Blood") as a memorial. 

A few decades later, Gregori Rasputin was assassinated by Prince Yusupov and others in the private study of the Yusupov Palace Unfortunately for the Prince, his less-than-stalwart accomplices wrapped Rasputin's body in a silk curtain made from a pattern produced exclusively for the Yusupovs.  

Realpolitik Lesson #1: If you choose to assassinate a highly public figure for bankrupting/deluding the country, do not attempt to conceal the body in draperies that could only be purchased by someone with your last name and/ or bank account.

Realpolitik Lesson #2: If you ignore Lesson #1, it is vital to dispose of the body NOT in a frozen river where the dearly departed will be preserved until it pops up later through a thin patch of ice, scaring the bejeezus out of old ladies and small children. As Graham Chapman might say, "You have to know these things when you're a king" (or planning to dispatch one).

The Bolshevik Revolution began in St. Petersburg, on board the battleship Aurora, which is now permanently moored outside the Naval Academy (an incongruously... happy blue and white building that looks more like a wedding cake than a military institution).  In an effort to break with the Czarist past, the Communists made Moscow the capital of the Soviet Union and renamed St. Petersburg/ Petrograd "Leningrad."  Despite the fact its factories- especially the shipyards- produced far more than their share of the USSR's GNP, funds were used by the central committee to provide increased standards of living in Moscow and elsewhere.  However, the city retained a sense of its own agency and despite- or perhaps because of- attempts by Stalin to quash independent sources of power and influence, Leningrad regularly presented challenges to Moscow's hegemony.  As the Soviet system collapsed, residents voted to officially restore the old name of their city.

Since end of the Soviet Union, St. Petersburg has reasserted itself, with the head of city administration now titled "Governor" and the Constitutional Court recently transferred to the English Embankment (near St. Isaac's Cathedral) from Moscow.  It can't have hurt that former President, now Prime Minister, Vladimir Putin got his political start in the "northern capital."

Speaking of Putin though, however I might respect his ability to take Russia back from the brink of collapse and reestablish some national pride, it is hard to escape thinking that his old job as KGB officer informs his current thinking just a bit too much.  As a visitor to Russia, nearly everyone must have a visa- granted this is hardly newsworthy on its own, but it does stand in rather stark contrast to, say, Estonia or Finland.  Without a visa- as a cruise passenger, for instance- you must be accompanied at all times by a licensed tour guide, who takes you to specifically licensed stores and- following a exterior tour of the Crosses Prison and the Peter and Paul Fortress- reminds you that buying from street vendors is illegal in Russia.  Yes, I can understand how this makes sense- especially since so few Russians learned English in school- however, the whole feel is a bit oppressive in a recognized tourist district.  

Despite all that, or maybe because of it, being in St. Petersburg still feels like an adventure and it ranks as a "Must See."

Cruising around Europe: The Baltic

Granted, when most people think of going on a cruise, they don't think of fjords, pine trees, and water that's either too cold or too polluted to enter or fish from.  However, that's unfortunate because in many ways the Baltic region is ideally suited to visiting by ship- and since (speaking with a fair background in

 maritime law) there hasn't been a completely seaworthy cargo ship since the fall of Rome- I highly recommend booking a Baltic cruise.

The Baltic is, first of all, a beautiful part of the world and one that any would-be photographer shouldn't miss.  Cities like Stockholm, Copenhagen, and Helsinki are almost dream-like.  (And put paid to the idea that "socialist countries" are somehow inferior to anywhere else.)  Rostock and Tallinn are fascinating glimpses into a world that was strictly verboten to Americans and Western Europeans for 50 years.  And St. Petersburg is one of the world's great cities- and will get a post on this blog all its own fairly soon.  

Having said that, let me quickly also say that cruising in the Baltic is very different from more traditional destinations like the Caribbean or Mediterranean.  First off- and this is obvious, but should still be mentioned- the Baltic is not tropical.  Yes, you are on a cruise ship with a Hawaiian/ Polynesia/ Caribbean theme luring you to the warm waters on every flight of stairs. But that harbor off the port side is Helsinki, not Havana.  So scratch "banana boat ride" off your port itinerary and add "Nordic Walking" or "Canals and Waterways of St. Petersburg."  A tour of the Hanseatic Brewery in Rostock includes a visit to a medieval church and monastery, not a beach chair like Barbados' Malibu Distillery.  Seeing as most of the arranged excursions include a visit to a church or a palace, dress is slightly more "formal" than tropical destinations (and you probably want to bring a jacket along anyway).  All of that leads to another phenomenon: the average age of passengers is probably 10 years older than elsewhere.  The cruise lines are still working out how to effectively deal with this- the tried and true formula of a "kid's club" does not hold quite the same attraction for teenagers.  And unlike in the Caribbean, the teens can't just lay around in the sun listening to their ipods.  

The excursions many people have come to expect from cruise lines and their vendors- such as zip lines, speed boats, and jeep drives- have no equivalents in the Baltic.  Cruise ship-organized excursions are most often geared precisely to the least-effort-humanly-possible mode of traveling- (and the Shore Excursion Staff will not likely inform more youthful passengers of this fact) creating TOURISTS out of would-be travelers.  (One notable exception to this is Nordic Walking, especially available in Helsinki- essentially, this is cross country skiing without the skis over 7-9 miles of parks and pedestrian walking paths.)  If you are not careful, "you will board your luxury motor coach for a scenic drive to..." Hell-sinki.  Or

 Crapenhagen.  Or, worst of all, Shitholm.  So the moral of the story is- except in St. Petersburg, where Russian officialdom will not let you leave the ship without a group or a previously arranged visa- plan to explore the Baltic capitals on your own.  The ships (or local vendors) provide shuttles to and from the cruise docks to central locations in the cities and all of the major sites in Copenhagen, Helsinki, Stockholm, and Tallinn are within comfortable walking distances of each other. 

The Baltic is also one place where choice of cruise line makes a huge difference.  (Going to Nassau or Cozumel- the port facilities are the same no matter who you sail with, as are the excursions, souvenirs, and the crowds.)  The size of the ship will determine whether it's docked next to Russian oligarchs' yachts- or the M/V Piece of Crap, flying the flag of that great maritime power, Bolivia.  (However, the larger ships will give you a smoother ride.  So there are tradeoffs.)  

Perhaps most importantly, the various cruise lines market themselves- and tailor their services- to particular demographics.  Holland America  (owned by Carnival) and Celebrity (owned by Royal Caribbean International) strive to serve the needs of the elderly couples who grew up hearing tales of glamorous liner service between London and New York.  (Of course, the elderly couples who grew up actually sailing on those liners still sail with Cunard.)  Norwegian Cruise Lines (the company who invented modern cruising, and is now owned by an Asian conglomerate) focuses on more laid-back passengers and has no set dining times or assigned seating.  Royal Caribbean bills itself as serving a younger crowd, with significant options for activity (so does Celebrity, but it is damn near impossible to avoid traveling on a luxury motor coach en route to any Celebrity-coordinated excursion).  Carnival (and Costa)- sure, if you're looking for a week-long booze cruise, but for half the price of a Baltic cruise, you could just buy a case of vodka and save yourself the jet lag.

So which should you choose?  Well, if you want adventure and young people- try Norwegian.

Want pampering, a fully-stocked library and a set schedule?  Celebrity or Holland America is for you.  Want your ship to be a destination itself? Royal Caribbean or Norwegian.  Want to bring your young kids along?  Book on Disney Cruise Lines and stay in the Bahamas, because anyone who does travel to the Baltic does not want to hear your kids running through the halls just as they've finally gotten to sleep during the 45-minute period of darkness during St. Petersburg's White Nights. (Thank you, this last bit has been a public service announcement.)

Once you decide on a cruise line, you have a choice of somewhere between 12 and 36 classes of cabins.  However, for almost all intents and purposes you really only have four choices of accommodations on any 2,000+ vessel: interior, exterior, balcony, and suite.  Unless you are under 20 (or buying the cabin for someone who is) save your money and put it towards a more affordable vacation.  (This goes double if your are trying to book a honeymoon.)  Small, enclosed spaces- and the obvious lack of a window- greatly increase your chances of seasickness on board.  

Exterior cabins are a great choice and probably the best value for the money (though if you are seriously contemplating shelling out for a suite, cost-effectiveness is probably not your chief concern), since they provide generally good views and smaller people can usually sit comfortably in the picture windows (my wife is 5'1" and has spent lots of time perched in these windows like a cat.)  

Balcony cabins (or "staterooms" as they are aptly called at this level of comfort and expense) are fantastic options if they are within your budget and you would rather have some alone time- and almost always unobstructed views of the water/ scenery.  On scenic cruises- and the Baltic fjords are certainly scenic- a balcony can make for an unforgettable trip.  (I would hesitate to recommend one for some "scenic" cruises though- the Straights of Magellan/ Cape Horn in particular.  While I have not experienced this myself, I cannot image the wind around the Horn makes for a pleasant afternoon tea on the terrace.)

Suites/Penthouses/Lofts- honestly, they are almost always beautiful and certainly provide more space, but if you intend to make much use of the public areas (lounges, bars, restaurants, pool deck, etc), I can't say they're worth the money.  However, if (like one couple I know very well) buying a suite provides you with the sort of privacy and peace you rely on vacations to provide, then by all means- and enjoy the included concierge service.

Cruising around Europe: Amsterdam

As a result of quite a bit of luck, my in-laws' generosity, and the fact that my wife, Cindy, and I are both educators with long summer vacations, we found ourselves on board two cruises this month- one to the Baltic Sea and the other to the Mediterranean.  Over the next few days, I'll be posting pictures, commentary, and the conclusion of that rant about tourists.  We left Harwick, England at the end of June on board the Celebrity Constellation en route to Amsterdam and eventually the Baltic. 

I lived just outside The Hague for three years, but hadn't been back to the Netherlands for a while and I was really looking forward to having 8 hours in port to take Cin down to see the Ridderzaal area and the beach at Schevenigen, but Celebrity Cruises had their own ideas. Apparently the A'dam cruise terminal charges by the hour and the cruise line couldn't imagine anyone actually leaving A'dam.  So we ended up just wandering around Dam Square and eating frits met fritsaus.  Most passengers were fine with this.  What else is there in Holland, except the Red Light District, right?  

Well, if your idea of a good vacation is getting so blitzed you can't see straight, then- as almost all Dutchmen and -women would likely agree- write the name of your hotel/cruise ship on your forehead and please stay within the Red Light District.  However, if you'd like to do almost anything else, once you've 1) done a canal tour of the Jordan neighborhood, 2) seen Anne Frank's house, and 3) the Rijkssmuseum/ Van Gogh Museums, go back to Centraal Station and hop on a train headed south. 

My suggestion: take the train from A'dam to Den Haag (The Hague) and you'll watch some of the most beautiful scenery in the world pass by your window as the train go through Haarlem and the tulip fields.  For a country with one of the highest population densities in the world, the Netherlands has a LOT of open, rural land- the result of proper (and rather inflexible) central planning after World War II.  

Get off your train at Den Haag Centraal and follow the shopping street to its end at a large open area surrounding a lake.  And oh, right. There's a castle in the middle.  Now used as Parliamentary offices, the Binnenhof surrounds the Ridderzaal, a medieval throne room/ adminstrative center for the Counts of Holland and still the place from which the Dutch monarch opens Parliament every year.  During the annual week-long Queen's Day celebrations, the area around the Binnenhof becomes an open air amusement park, with carousels, snack vendors, and spinning/jerking/twisting rides of all kinds, late into the night. 

If you want a relaxing trip to the beach, take a tram to Schevenigen.  You'll pass the Staten Kwartier, where most embassies are; the Peace Palace, where the International Court of Justice has sat since it was founded; and Madurodam, which is a rather vast model of Holland that lets you walk through miniature versions of Amsterdam, The Hague, and Delft.  (On sunny days, this is great for kids- they can play Godzilla stomping through major cities.)  At the end of the line is the Kurhaus, a beautiful old hotel right on the beach.  During the summer, temporary restaurants and bars set up shop on the sand below the (stone) boardwalk.  

Savusavu, Fiji

Just a word about the photo on the blog header:  I took this near the town of Savusavu, Fiji in August, 2007.  Cindy and I were staying at Tropic Splendor, a few miles outside town; this is the view down the beach there.  No one in sight.  (Though admittedly, there were some people in the water- local women fishing with nets.)  Our stay with Jeff and Susan, owners of Tropic Splendor, was incredible and we have been scheming ever since to return to Fiji. 

Just so everyone is clear, Fiji is perfectly safe for visitors, even at the height of a coup because the Fijians have wisely decided that a rousing game of Who's Wearing the Big Hat Today need not affect anyone else.  So the international airport was built on the opposite side of Viti Levu from Suva and no effort was made to construct anything resembling a major road between Nadi, where the airport and major international infrastructure is located.  (This also prevents tourism from taking over the island and enables Fijians to continue their cultural traditions on their own terms.)

Savusavu is located on the southern side of Vanua Levu, Fiji's second island and is a small town with only about 3,000 residents, including a small but lively expatriate community, centered on the Savusavu Yacht Club.  Don't let the name fool you, the yacht club is a small dock, restaurant, and a few shops in a building built as a waystation for copra in the late 1800s. Determined to keep Fiji Fijian, the government forbids foreigners from buying land- and that includes the thriving Indian population who originally came to Fiji to work on the copra plantations and who now control an overwhelming proportion of economic clout, but are still shut out from the real estate gig.  The expatriates, mostly New Zealanders and Australians naturally, own pieces of the copra plantation, which was "grandfathered in" and later sold under typical common law property rules.  Many of the expats are Rotarians who've adopted a local school to improve, including adding running water and a new roof.  It all makes for a dynamic- if a little isolated- place to stay for as much time as you can.  (The diving and snorkeling is comparable only to the Great Barrier Reef.)

Travelers and Tourists: An Anthropological Study

Last month, my wife and I were walking along the medieval city walls of Tallinn, Estonia with some new friends, admiring the view over the Old City.  Just as we were relaxing and thinking we'd somehow wandered into a Baltic saga and were wondering when the Vikings would attack, we saw them.  Or rather, THEM.  The tourists.  Not travelers, mind you- they can be found in any cafe, bar, or public space.  In addition to usually being unassuming and polite, travelers tend to be rather good conversationalists and reasonably good tippers (or at least they rarely stiff the waitstaff), all while allowing the locals to go about their lives with a minimum of disruption. Tourists, on the other hand, cause all sorts of bloody chaos and, a la quantum physics personified in an XXXL t-shirt reading, "I'm with Stupid," rarely fail to observe the local environment or population without irreparably changing it. 

I must admit to being somewhat biased on this.  Having been born and on and raised on a barrier island in Florida before the condo commandos and hotelistas decided that peace and tranquility was best enjoyed with a quarter million of your closest friends, I have a somewhat ingrained skepticism towards tourists in large groups.   

When they come individually, there's usually not a problem- just some chuckles or bewilderment at how savvy businessmen, doctors, lawyers- impeccably dressed at the office- somehow come to believe that a crossing a national border and rubbing white paste on their nose transforms a neon floral shirt and too-tight shorts, black socks and sandals into appropriate attire for an afternoon jaunt through Tuscany or a promenade down Barcelona's Las Ramblas.  (While all other observers may cringe, at least local pickpockets are an appreciative audience.)   But not all tourists travel individually or with their significant other and/or demon spawn... er, children.  Oftentimes, especially during Tourist Season- a term that when spoken subtly suggests a semantic merger of "terrorist" and "hurricane season"- they travel in full-on raiding parties.

Imagine the scene: you're a middle-manager or minor government functionary in Madrid.  It's nearing the end of July and your boss has just nipped out early for his month-long August vacation, leaving you to deal with his leftovers.  Feeling a bit harangued, you call up your girlfriend and cancel your six-month anniversary dinner, explaining you have to complete the Castenada account tonight.  You try to smooth things over a bit by suggesting that she meet you for an ice cream at the Retiro Park near your office over your quicker-than-you-had-hoped lunch break.  She arrives, sees that you are truly sorry, and the two of you settle in to enjoy the sunshine over the lago and each other's company.  Just then you hear the sonic blast of a straining hydraulic brake.  Your quiet sanctuary has just been annexed by Disney World. 

They arrive en masse in that tangible evidence of evil: the LUXURY MOTOR COACH.  (For those of you who think the Minivan represents one of the Four Horsemen, the "LMC" is Tiamat itself.)  Inevitably, the LMC pulls up as close as (in)humanly possible to an Object of Great Historical Importance with an enormous calamity of noise and exhaust.  This sends pigeons into bedlam and almost always blocks the view of the OGHI from the people sitting in nearby cafes, minding their own business.  Soon, the doors with a hydraulic "swoosh"- first, the front, which remains a gaping open space for some time with no visible reaction from the sardines, err... passengers inside.  Then the rear door opens, followed immediately by teenagers, twenty- and thirty-somethings leaping from the door like cracker jacks.  One wonders why the first door wasn't sufficient for another five minutes or so until a escapee from the ICU hobbles down the stairs, on the arms of the driver and two or three other passengers who've been enlisted to help carry this aged and honored veteran of the Napoleonic Wars down to the pavement.  At this point, the tour guide- easily recognizable by her "lollipop" or neon-colored flag- attempts to gather the flock of young people who exploded from the rear of the bus in a frustrated mass, and who are now wandering towards the ice cream stand, the souvenir vendor, or the Nigerian gentlemen promising great deals on Rolex watches, African drums, and other authentic Spanish handicrafts.  When she more or less succeeds, an observer can pick out the nationalities included in this United Nations-in-a-sardine-can. 

First, there are the Brits- nowhere else on earth gives rise to such eccentric and disparate people, all of whom MUST remain together, lest anyone in the tour group be inconvenienced by someone returning to the bus 30 seconds later than the time agreed upon.  While traveling in tour groups as couples or young families, the Brits tend to behave themselves very well.  However, beware the ones who came as singles or stag-parties once they encounter others like them. (Think Gremlins after a midnight bender.)  Greek police chiefs- certainly no innocents themselves- recently held a conference to decide on a national policy to deal with "Brits behaving badly" in response to threats by British tour companies to move their business to other islands if, for instance, Mykonos decided to actually prosecute holiday-makers for public intoxication, assaults, and vandalism.  

Next up, weighed down by electronic devices of all kinds, come the Japanese.  One might have thought that advances in miniaturization and memory storage capacity would have gone some distance towards quashing the stereotype of a camera-laden Japanese tourist.  One would be wrong.  Such advances have simply allowed the touring Mitsubishi executive to carry more cameras.  However, the casual observer must admit that Japanese tourists traveling with predominantly-English speaking tour groups do carry less than the all-Japanese tour groups, who can often be enlisted to help out if there is a camera malfunction on an on-location Hollywood production filming.  Someone will probably have the part needed and, in any case, when properly organized, a tour group from Tokyo has more than enough flash-bulb power to reenact the bombing of Dresden. 

By the time you can observe the Brits, alternately dusting each other off politely and searching for the nearest cerveceria and marvel at amateur documentarians from Kyoto, you'll have long-since heard the Argentine or southern Italian extended family.  Loud, boisterous, and musical, this group speaks to each other almost exclusively in their own language, often continuing their conversation over the English-speaking guide's attempts to organize the whole group.  Unable to hear the guide over Abuelo Gonzalez's recollection of the Argentine victory in the Malvinas, the group is inevitably confused and asks the guide to repeat everything she has just said, thus delaying the whole group's disembarkation from the LMC.  This genre of tourist is particularly common en route to Rome, Santiago de Compostella, and Lourdes, in which case they've justified the expense of an all-inclusive trip through Italy or Spain or France as a pilgrimage.  As they're piously following the footsteps of thousands of pilgrims who gave away their worldly possessions and walked the Way of St. James barefoot through the Pyrenees, the sing-a-longs will be religious in nature- and often repeated, causing a crisis of faith among everyone else in the group. 

Swirling around and through the other groups, of course, will be the Americans.  And fodder for the next post.