Friends and readers. My bride and I have just returned from our tour of the Mediterranean. An abundance of beauty—joyful moment—and witnessing many new things. Even in the Springtime with a chance of rain nearly every day it was magical and suited us well.
Like much of the rest of my life it is hard to pick favorites. Whether it’s what I read or watch—what I eat or drink—what I listen to—or what particular outdoor activities I participate in—my favorites change seasonally and regularly. There surely are stalwarts that last through the test of time. Clearly the communities that we visited in the Umbria and Tuscany regions of Italy—the Provence region of France, and the Catalonia region of Spain—have stood the test of time through Kings, Popes, Emperors, Barbarian hordes, and revolutions.
The Mediterranean—ahh. I hope you enjoy today’s offering on age and pace and the beauty of resilience over time.
Old and Slow. Two things I’ve never identified as. That said I’m 66 years old and never thought I’d live this long—shout out to Mickey Mantle and everyone else who used the line: If I’d known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.
Our first cruise. We booked it last August before the idea of getting married was a reality. Well—to be fair—it had been floating around in my head and heart for months—but I couldn’t get the words to form in my mouth until October 16th. She said YES and on December 16th we were married.
We both agreed that the Mediterranean cruise on Viking would be our honeymoon and we quickly made excursion additions to enhance the trip. Let me first say that it was perfect in every way—which is exactly what we expected—and a high bar for any travel operator to meet up to.
Why a cruise? In 65 years neither of us had ever been on one—ever. And although we’re both well-traveled—we’d never been to the Mediterranean. A cruise lets you sample a region without making the full commitment to staying there. We know we want to return and do deeper dives—this method allowed us those glimpses.
Why Viking? Simple. Smaller boats—900 passengers vs. several thousand. No one under 18—we wanted an adult experience. Viking scores big on both counts. We were on the Saturn their newest boat in their very large fleet—christened in 2023.
Cruise lines make money on us—neither of us drink alcohol and both of us eat in healthy quantities—which according to the international Cruise guidebook is antithetical to the vast majority of cruise passengers. No judgment—just the facts ma’am. Ann and I developed a nickname for the buffet lines—the munch and waddle. A nod to the great SNL skit by Belushi and Ackroyd back in the day—the Trough and Brew.
I digress.
First stop—a few days before we boarded the boat in Rome—spent in Umbria. Spoleto and it’s amazing views and setting. Perugia on the mountaintop with its classy square and Sunday crowds of locals. Assisi and its history of St. Francis. Amazing terrain resplendent with small medieval villages every direction the eye could see.
Then it was off to Tuscany. Indulged in a full-day guided tour of Florence which is not near long enough to see Firenze but it’s what we had. Amazing. We booked this trip for the Spring assuming we’d miss the massive summer tourist crowds. What we didn’t take into consideration last August when booking the journey was that Easter 2024 was early by a couple of weeks—it seemed like every elementary, secondary, and high school student was in Florence with us. The highlight on day 2 in Tuscany was an all-day trip to San Gimignano—a small and magnificent walled city. An afternoon lunch was served on a working farm adjacent to SG and the meal was exceptional in every way. I’ve never seen vegetables like the ones on our plates.
Those of you—maybe most of you—who have indulged in guided tours have likely had similar experiences as we did—many of our fellow travelers had no business walking 5-7 miles around a cobblestoned and narrow vertical town. God bless ‘em but c’mon—what part of the description where it said significant walking and uneven surfaces and lots of hills and stair climbing did you not understand? The tours were booked for 7-8 hours but 4 of those hours were spent standing around at public toilets and sitting in a back room of a restaurant eating a pre-fixed lunch. Ann and I quickly determined that we could cover twice the ground on our own—several times we peeled off from the group and forged ahead on our own. As interesting as the guides were—and they were brilliant—they spent much of their time doing head count and waiting for the slowest common denominators. We’d stay just barely in range of the radio signal so we could still hear the history-filled narration—and were able to poke into shops and cafes and alleys and doorways on our own.
Back to the boat at the end of each day—never did we lack for something to do—only for the time to do it all in.
On to the French Riviera for a couple of days—porting in Villefrance sur Mer—which makes Nice, Monaco, Antibes, and several other areas easily reachable. Apparently the yacht count was down from the summer peak season but we still spied some healthy floating inheritances. Touring the Renoir home and museum where the rheumatoid arthritis-impaired Impressionist Master sat in his wheelchair and gazed out his open windows to create his lasting images. The same day—which meant getting back on the bus and enduring the most pressing question posed to the guide—where are the bathrooms on our next stop? Thankfully none of us knuckleheads asked about the terrorist massacre in 2016 in Nice. We were dropped off in Antibes—a vibrant Saturday morning with the locals ensued. The highlight of many was the fresh market which was the size of several football pitches. The array of vegetables and cheeses and meats and spices and breads was quite simply a sensory overload. Left to our own devices Ann and I indulged in olives that looked like chocolate bon-bons—tomatoes that were consumed like apples—artichokes that melted on the tongue—and of course the Espresso.
An overnight on the big boat then a port at Marseilles. No impressions of the city other than from the harbor—but we took a short bus ride to Aix-en-Provence to spend our Easter Sunday. Quiet and springlike with the budding Sycamore trees lining every street—it was magical. This was the day we got the karmic hand-slap for our renegade behavior. Hearing 4:30 at the big fountain as our cue to meet the group and the bus to head back to the Port of Marseilles for a 6 pm departure—we ventured off for beignets and coffee. Standing around at 4:20 at the big fountain—one of dozens in Aix-en-Provence—we saw none of the other waddling Vikings. About 4:40 we called it. Busting a move to the cab stand we found an intrepid local driver willing to whisk us to the port for a mere 150 Euros. Doh! As we boarded the Saturn in the nick of time—we let loose with a chuckle at the cost of our independence.
Cruising overnight to Palamos on the Catalonian coast of Spain brought more delight. Our first fully sunny and hot day in nearly a week. Strollers and runners and cyclists and traders and open cafes—while out in the bay dozens of top-ranked kite surfers were exhibiting their skills in preparation for this summer’s debut in the Paris Olympics. One of our favorite stops and a sure-to-be-repeated location. Onward to Barcelona—or as the locals pronounce it—Barthelona. Preparations for the upcoming America’s Cup in August were evident all through the port area—recently upgraded since the ‘92 Games.
A trip up the mountain to the Santa Maria Abbey in Montserrat revealed an absolute marvel of architecture and construction—particularly given the time it was originally built 1000 meters above the valley floor in the 2nd century after Christ. The afternoon was spent on La Rambla munching and drinking our way through the remaining sunlight.
Next morning it was off to the airport and a long flight back home. Weather delays and 24 hours awake notwithstanding—we arrived safely at our door and our very happy canine pack at midnight.
I believe we will cruise again. Viking was exceptional in every way. Our upgraded stateroom suite—the staff—the food oh the food—and the entire experience was top notch. Who knew? As I’ve alluded to in this essay the only downside was the slow-moving excursion crowds.
I titled this essay for a reason. Ann and I are both hard chargers very accustomed to doing things in our own way at our own pace—typically in a rapid manner. Which reinforces the miracle that we found each other in life.
On our honeymoon the life lessons were as copious as the memories. Soon—or maybe not so soon—after I would get irritated by the pace of our fellow travelers or by the crowds we’d occasionally encounter—a gentle clearing thought would enter my mind: This is about me—not them.
This is about me wanting to control the outcome—the situation.
Let it go.
You cannot change anything about this moment—only your response and reaction to it.
Teachers are everywhere if we’re willing to see them and listen. Americans don’t have the best reputation abroad—particularly in large groups of waddlers stumbling down the narrow streets while locals are attempting to go about their lives. We tipped well but not aggressively—we tried not to be those typical American travelers. We exclaimed many times: Buongiorno! Ciao! Grazie Mille! Bonjour! Merci Beaucoups! Buenas Noches! Gracias!
Lovely description, felt like I was there!
It sounds like you experienced a delightful first cruise! I began my cruising career in my early 20s as an entertainer on the very small but 5 star Sitmar cruise line. I stopped at work after about four years. I just wanted to stay on land. You are so right when you take a cruise you get a sample out of all the ports of call and where you want to travel in the future. Thanks for sharing your story and so many amazing photos and memories. Blessings to you!