Iceland, Again

 We just couldn't get enough of Iceland, and the way our tickets were booked, we could take a 4-day layover in Reykjavik for no extra charge ... so we did! No rental car this time, we just spent time in town. Science nerds that we are, we spent an entire day at Perlan (earth-science museum), and also hit the museum for the northern lights, Icelandic history, maritime museum, and a lava show. That still left us plenty of time to just walk around town and enjoy food and drink, and even a bit of shopping -- where else could we count on getting super-warm wool clothing? Here's just a quick sampling of photos from the "land of fire and ice."

  

Duoro Valley, Portugal

 Porto was so amazing, it was difficult to imagine what could top that experience. We shouldn’t have doubted. Another of the wonderful black Mercedeses glided us inland (and uphill) to the Duoro Valley wine country. 135 km inland, over 1000- meter high mountains. About 1-1/2 hours drive but a whole ‘nother environment. The light is different, the air is sweet. They’ve been growing olives and wine grapes here since Roman times. According to our driver, Portuguese writer Miguel Torga described this area as a “geological poem.”

Duoro Valley overview, from the high point of our drive. It was cool and foggy when we left Porto, but just like in Colorado the weather became completely different on the other side of the mountains.

 

Breakfast

 I miss our Galeon peeps every day ... but not for breakfast! Sydney has been genius about finding us hotels that include breakfast, from local Icelandic Skyr (yogurt) fresh fruit and smoked salmon, to a full-on English breakfast in London, to this delish pastries and champagne in Portugal. Compare that with the El Galeon self-serve breakfast of cold cereal or instant oatmeal (the latter specially for us by request) or a panini press to make your own ham-and-cheese sandwiches, coffee or tea ... and be ready to work at 08:30. For all of that, we’re planning to work again in two months next summer when they need English speakers; and at the same time we’re appreciating our vacation travels!

 

Porto, Portugal -- A Statue, Two Museums, and a Bookstore

 We had far more opportunities to dig into culture in Porto than we had time, so we picked our top three. First up was this bookstore (you who know us well, know that we generally manage to visit a bookstore in every port, but this one, the “Livraria Lello,” was unusually famous. It was said to be where the inspiration for "Harry Potter" came from. Those words made for tourist magnets all over England when we were there, and apparently here also. The next day we got tickets to go inside. It truly was a pretty bookstore; and we learned they’re backing off the Harry Potter association, though the damage may well have already been done. Got away for less than 100 euros (unusual for us at a bookstore, I know, but we’re continuing our cruising tradition of going to local independent bookstores and buying books about the places we visit.) This trip netted us books about the great Lisbon earthquake of 1755; Portuguese navigators in the renaissance; a picture book about the gorgeous blue-and-white tiles we found all over Portugal; and Michelle Obama’s latest. And a couple of selfies…

Author friends: this is the famous bookstore where Rowling is said to have gotten the inspiration for the Harry Potter series. People line up and buy a ticket just to go inside! I wish you the same for any bookstore that carries your books. (And yes, we’re going too, but not right now, and the price of the ticket can be applied toward a book purchase.)

Porto, Portugal -- We Were Absolutely Smitten

 We were absolutely smitten by Porto. Not in an I-could-see-us-living-here way, but just in a deep appreciation for the unique vibe way. I'm sure part of it had to do with our location -- Sydney has a true gift for finding perfect-size hotels in great locations, this one right on a pedestrian mall and walkable to everything. The weather, think "Seattle" -- cool and moist, though we had sunny days as well. It was touristy, yes, but also, just ... right. I was fascinated by the tiles and the street scenes: 

Leiria, Portugal -- A Glimpse of Ordinary Life

 Our next city wasn't about tourism so much as it was seeing some longtime friends. Though there was some tourism anyway, Portugal is a lovely and varied country and its hard to avoid seeing beauty everywhere. Over the years we'd run into C and K aboard our respective boats from Nova Scotia to Florida and places in between. A few years ago they decided to retire from cruising and seek their next adventure -- living in Europe for a while, maybe forever. We'd had similar European dreams, though ours kept getting pushed back as we opted instead for one more year on Cinderella and the Spanish tall ships. At this time they had been living in Portugal for about a year and a half, and they invited us to spend a few days hanging out and seeing their new land-based lives.

Packed up our suitcases and headed to the train station. The train that arrived (10 minutes late) reminded me of trains I’d been on as a kid. Hey, the train was old enough that it could have been running first when I was a kid! As we struggled to lift the heavy suitcases up the narrow steps I found myself wishing for one of the professional drivers in the black Mercedes that had so smoothly whisked us away in other cities. But then we wouldn’t have met the kind taxi driver who helped us figure out which track the train would come on, or the French fellow passenger who would miss his own connection due to the late train but still took time to help translate for us, as well as lift the heaviest of our 3 bags. Minutes after we arrived at our hotel (and yes, finally there was a black Mercedes involved after all) C and K showed up. By happy coincidence it was C's birthday and we enjoyed a lovely birthday lunch along with meeting some of their new friends. We went back to their apartment afterwards; filled with light and a mix of new ikea furniture and treasured old things from before their boating days. Coincidentally their apartment was just a few blocks from our hotel — with a whole city to have chosen from this seemed an incredible stroke of luck. And finally a long convo with our waiter at dinner about … many things, but a lot about the situation of being in a small relatively poor country with too many pensioners to support from too few young workers, a situation we’re facing on both sides of the Atlantic. All in all, a full and auspicious first day in this city. 

The birthday lunch (C and K are in the middle). "We don't describe ourselves as expats," one said. "Expats implies we're in this transient state away from our real country. We're trying to remember we're immigrants, and Portugal is our new home." Note the backdrop of a wall of wine bottles; many of our pictures of restaurant meals in Portugal have the "wall of wine" in back.

Nazaré, Portugal

 Annnnd… on to Portugal. Just a quick trip from neighboring Spain. Much as we'd enjoyed it, we were anxious for some cooler weather. But our airport arrival experience was a misadventure worthy of our friend Denisa who writes about her travel snafus with wry humour: we somehow got directed into the line to get our passports stamped to exit the EU; fortunately the agent spoke excellent English and figured out that we were in the wrong lane before we ended up in the country illegally. After reclaiming what are now 3 suitcases (first trip in my life where I needed an extra bag to come home with. Of course, 5 months, temperature ranges from 0 degrees C in Iceland to 40 degrees C in Sevilla; foul weather sailing gear and pirate costume as well ordinary clothes and El Galeon polo shirts and jackets for work days, plus the antique nautical instruments from Whitby, and now my ceramic tile and a steadily-growing collection of fridge magnets, meant we weren’t exactly traveling light) we were met by a man in a suit holding a sign with our names on it and whisked away in a black Mercedes (for real! How cool, like a movie!) to our hotel. 

Our first stop was along the coast. Nazaré was a small fishing village, now summer vacation spot and location of legendary giant waves for surfing. No big waves the day we visited (I had been hoping for some leftover hurricane swell maybe?) but a really heavy salt spray mist in the air. Spoken Portuguese sounds a little like Russian to my ears and I definitely underestimated how uncomfortable I would feel not knowing any of the local language beyond a few politeness words. Between google translate, playing charades, pointing, and taking cues from other people we managed to get a couple of tuna, cheese, and tomato toasted sandwiches ("tosta atun com tomate" delicious for 4€ each) and a couple of beers.

A “living museum” along the waterfront promenade. This line of traditional fishing boats, they used to put lanterns in the back and go out at night with nets to fish (signs in front of each boat gave specific details; the last one in the row is the lifeboat)

  

Sevilla, Spain -- Tile

 So much of Spain (and we would later learn, Portugal) uses tile for a building material. Easy to see why -- strong, durable, insect- and water-resistant, varied and beautiful. So for a little different adventure Sydney scheduled us for a private session learning about, and hand-painting, a ceramic tile. Both Spain and Portugal have long ceramic traditions, evolving from Roman times when it was mosaics (images made of tiny bits). When we had our kitchen design/remodeling business, Jaye splurged on a high-end tile cutting tool partly because it was made in Spain and we assumed the Spanish had the most know-how to make a good tool. It was indeed good and over the years more than earned us back its higher cost in easy and accurate cutting. I meticulously hand-painted a tile which was then fired in the kiln (called “low-temperature” at only 1000 degrees Celsius). This piece took a little over two hours for a newbie. So imagine what it would take for these gorgeous tiles found on our walks around Sevilla! 

Before the kiln. The tile is basically terracotta; The glaze is finely powdered glass suspended in water. And fascinatingly the lines between the colours is a kind of oil—because oil and water don’t mix it will serve as a kind of barrier to keep the glazes from running into each other during firing. 

  

Sevilla, Spain -- at the Museum and Offices of the Nao Victoria Foundation

After ten years working on ships owned by the Fundación Nao Victoria, we were finally (!!) going to have a chance to visit their home offices. We had a bit of trouble finding the office, which was tucked into a riverfront promenade almost under the main road, which couldn't be seen from above at the city level where we were walking.  But seeing the masts of another of their full-size historic replica ships led us to the right spot. After the majesty and drama of sailing on these wonderful historic replicas, it was quite a jolt to see ... very prosaic cubicles, and several of our former shipmates now "promoted" to a life of business casual and computers instead of sea boots and halyards. 

But there was also a fabulous museum about Magellan's expedition; we spent several hours reading every word of every display and picked up a few new facts to add to our tours.

Model of the Nao Victoria, the only one of Magellan's five original ships to complete the circumnavigation; at the museum of the Fundacion's offices in Sevilla. 

 

Sevilla, Spain -- Day Trip to Córdoba (photo dump)

 One of the more touristy things we did was a bus trip to Córdoba, another site of many antiquities about an hour and a half drive from Sevilla. The Romans were here, later Moors held the site for about 700 years until they were finally kicked out in 1492. And all those influences were still visible in the site. 

Ironically, on our way to see the very old, we were captivated by the very new. This is a massive solar-power installation using "molten salt" technology; many parabolic mirrors on the ground focused on this tower; you can read about it here.

 

Sevilla, Spain -- the City

 Sevilla, in southern Spain, was our next stop. It's home to the headquarters of the Fundación that owns El Galeon, so that alone was reason for us to visit. But there was so, so much more, as we would soon learn. We had planned a day to visit their office and museum, another day to the ancient town of Cordoba, and yet another half-day to learn about tile. 

We took a high-speed train across the country from Barcelona (300 km/hour, wow). Much cheaper and more environmental than flying, and when you discount the time in airport security, etc, not that much longer and far more interesting!

After 3 months on the Galeon, I was pretty sure my Spanish would be good enough to get us on the right train. I needn't have worried -- there were signs everywhere. (It's much easier for me to handle written vs spoken Spanish as I can take my time.) And anyway there were plenty of English-speakers.

  

Barcelona, Spain

 Barcelona! In casual chitchat when people asked where we were going next, if we said, "Barcelona" we'd get a knowing smile.  Everyone, it seems, had an opinion. 

Barcelona was a beautiful city which my photos don't do justice to. Wide streets, lined with trees, and buildings of limited height so sunlight reached to the ground. Many buildings where we were staying were from the Industrial era, so elaborate sculpted facades, wrought-iron balconies, heavy carved doors. There were diagonal cuts to corners of buildings at street intersections so every intersection was wide, great sight lines for cars and pedestrians. Outdoor dining was everywhere in the pleasant climate. A little too large and sprawling to be totally walkable, so we did a driving tour. We saw some intriguing modern art by such names as Picasso and Miro, but one of the things that delighted us was the guide's proudly pointing out that what used to be bullfighting rings. "We outlawed bullfighting in Catalonia in 2012," he explained, while showing us that one of these arenas was now a shopping center, and the other a venue for sports and music concerts. The obvious rationale is animal cruelty, but there's also a little winking acknowledgement that bullfighting is a very Spanish thing, and Catalonia was asserting their differentiation from Spain. (There's also an activity called "bull-dodging" or "bull-racing" that seems to carry the theme without the blood. In addition to the driving tour and a couple of taxi trips, we put lots of miles on our shoes.  

In the plaza near the maritime museum, 

  

Girona, Spain

 We landed in Barcelona on my 70th birthday, but didn't (yet) get to see the city; we were met at the airport by a man in a suit who loaded us and our suitcases into a black Mercedes and glided in quiet luxury comfort about 90 minutes northeast to the old city of Girona. We learned that it has been inhabited since at least pre-Roman times, was conquered by the Moors in around 715 A.D., had one of the most extensive and best preserved Jewish Quarters in this part of the world, was retaken by the Catholic Spanish in 1492 when the Muslims and Jews were told to convert to Christianity or leave, and had been invaded by the French multiple times in later centuries. Quite a tumultuous history, at least in part due to its strategic location -- a total of 25 sieges and captured 7 times, per wikipedia. We also learned that Catalonia is a semi-autonomous part of Spain and that Spanish isn't the primary language there. The other thing we learned? That it was fascinating, and beautiful.

Random "street" scene in the historic section: narrow, cobbled, OLD

  

On Our Own in Southwest England -- Devon and Cornwall (2 of 2)

 

"Woolacombe" sounded more to me like it should be Australia than England, but there it was on the driving directions. Sydney's notes said we were booked into a 4-star hotel, but I only had eyes for the scenery. It was a chilly blustery day, more like March than August. The ocean was frothy, but oh! the black rocks! Geology nerd friends — we’re in the “Devon” from which the Devonian Period gets its name! Check out these vertical shale layers! (Yeah, it kinda looks like Sydney sent us to vacation on another planet again) For scale, those tiny specks near the water are people — these rocks are huge.

  

On Our Own in Southwest England -- Devon and Cornwall (1 of 2)

 

As every year, after three intensely people-y months we needed some alone time to decompress. So after we picked up our rental car we took a couple of days right where we began, in Bournemouth, only 1/2 hour from where we left the ship. Our plan was to do absolutely nothing, maybe a stroll along the beach, a (very) long hot shower, a pub, and then we had a nice road trip planned for us. 

The cottage we were staying in after leaving the ship could have used some updating of the decor. But when this is the view from the front door, it’s not like we were going to be spending much time indoors anyway! Our first night off the ship was weird; I missed the little rustling of our shipmates sleeping near us in the dorm and the unconscious knowledge that we’d protect each other (I think deep down, humans are pack animals after all). On the other hand it was nice to be able to just … talk to each other instead of texting back and forth between our bunks in the sollao (dorm). 

  

Poole -- and the End of the Cruise for Us, for This Year

 

We had closed our loop. Three months previous we began our tour of duty on El Galeon by taking a ferry from Poole to Jersey; now we returned to Poole where we'd end our time on the tall ship and begin our own adventures.

I love when people dress up to visit the ship! These women told me the story of smugglers in Poole, where the women didn't smuggle directly, but collaborated with the men who did. The women would go down to the waterfront to meet the ships, dressed in ordinary (if particularly loose and shapeless) dresses. When they arrived, they'd take off their clothes, wrap themselves in many layers of silk that the smugglers were bringing, then put on their ordinary dresses over to cover the silk up again, and walk right past the customs agents without paying the import duties.

  

Ramsgate to Poole -- Our Last Overnight Passage (for this year, anyway)

 

Our last overnight passage (of this tour, anyway). Milky Way. Moonrise. Shooting stars -- so many stars in the sky that some fell out, or as they say in Spanish, "it's raining stars." Five knots of speed over a nearly flat ocean using just the trinqueta (lower forward sail). And then this sunrise. If it’s gonna be our last for a while, the universe certainly conspired to make it a good one!

See 'ya later, Ramsgate! We're off to Poole.

  

Ramsgate

 

Ramsgate was one of my favorite cities, yet I have few photos of it; not sure why. It was famous as a seaside resort and fishing town in the 19th century and Queen Victoria spent time there as a young woman. There were some pretty streets, a beach, interesting buildings from Victorian times. But what stood out for me was the incredible white cliffs.

We got up at 5:00 AM one morning to walk out past the edge of town to see these chalk cliffs, and then back to the ship again in time for work at 8:30. 

 

Scarborough to Ramsgate

 Finally the weather gods, the winds, and the laws of physics aligned, and we set sail one evening on the high tide around 18:30. About a day and a half to our next port, Ramsgate, on England's extreme southeast point. We crew were really looking forward to a longer passage than the day-hops we'd been having. Getting the ship ready takes several hours. All the posters and placards and artifacts we use to explain the ship when we're open to the public were stowed away, the gangway was disassembled and brought on deck, the dinghy came aboard. Antennas and navigation instruments were redeployed. Finally we were ready. 

 

Scarborough (2 of 2)

 I periodically post about the frustrating parts of the job: dealing with entitled rude people; repeating the same answers to very basic questions over and over again, or worse, the times that we're so crowded that all we get to do is "crowd control" and not converse with the visitors at all; the people that aren't interested in the history at all and just want to grab a few selfies. Some visitors ask weird questions, like the one who absolutely could not comprehend that our masts were lighter made of metal than wood for the same strength. “But metal is heavier than wood,” she kept insisting. (But because metal is stronger than wood ours can be built hollow. Besides, if there really was a single perfectly straight tree 30 meters tall, the government wouldn't have let us cut it down for our project.) 

Our main mast, 37 meters/120 feet tall -- so big I can't fit the whole thing in a single photo.

Others were more thoughtful, like, “Did the Spanish build ships in Spain and then sail them to the Pacific to make up the Philippines fleet, or build them from the wood there?” (Answer, they built them from the wood there, which was actually superior quality to the (scarce!) wood in Spain at the time.) The most fraught, though, are questions about the slave trade. (None of the European powers come off well here through the lens of hindsight. Spain in particular didn’t “import” people from Africa so much as enslave the ones the found in the Americas originally.) But I love being able to tell the story of Fort Mose, and how the Underground Railroad ran south, not north, from Georgia and South Carolina, to Spanish territory, and legal freedom. Especially this side of the Atlantic that seems the coolest story rarely told. 

Spain deliberately tried to lure enslaved people in the English colonies away, to chip away at England’s “economic interests.” The runaways were promised their freedom if they swore allegiance to Spain and converted to Catholicism. In any case Spanish slavery was a legal state that people of any race could transition into and out of, more like our concept of indentured servitude, and not an inherent characteristic of people of African descent. (Photo is a modern reenactment of a battle at Fort Mose.)

Here's another walk we did around town on a day off:

"Lest We Forget." Memories of the two World Wars are very prominent all over the country.

The beginning of the hike was quite enticing starting from the beach...

...and looking back the way we'd come.

A rather posh neighbourhood at the top

Formal gardens

 

This absolutely pitch-perfect retro diner. One of the benefits of the extremely physical lifestyle aboard the ship is that we lose weight without even trying. On our days off ice cream was a must; I thought a chocolate malted would be the right fit for this decor.

  

If you zoom waaaaay in you can see where the ship is docked.

There’s a seaweed-farming operation where we’re docked also. At the end of our hike we had some beer brewed with farmed sugar kelp seaweed and chips spiced with seaweed instead of salt (the beer just tasted like … beer, the chips were nice. We were sharing a table with some random people and the guy told us that he had blood pressure issues and was hopeful the seaweed salt substitute would be a good alternative for his diet.) The seaweed farmers also use seaweed to make some alternatives to single use plastic packaging that degrades into the seaweed-based molecules it came from, something far more sea-friendly than microplastics. They also use the farmed seaweed to make skin care products. In Iceland they use a similar process to make a seaweed/wool fibre to knit sweaters. Lots of new possibilities!

Smuggling seems to have been a common practice anywhere there is a decent harbour

It was a seafood festival weekend, after all, so I couldn't pass up my chance to grab a photo with the RNLI (lifesaving service) mascot.

Goodnight, Scarborough. (View of the lighthouse guarding/guiding the harbour entry.)

Scarborough (1 of 2)

 

It was just a short hop down the coast from Whitby to Scarborough, but all I could think of was the Simon and Garfunkel song from the 1960s, one of the first that I learned to play confidently and well on the guitar as a high schooler. As we came around the headland we were greeted by the local "pirate ship" as an escort. I saw the contours of a great natural harbour and a hill that would be a great location for a castle. Yikes, I thought to myself, to be honest I’m even beginning to **think** like a medieval in assessing the defensibility of the town! As we pulled in to our assigned position on the wall I saw lots of tourism and foot traffic (and several beckoning pubs). Captain did the most remarkable job of docking in an incredibly tight space that I’ve ever seen. Seafood festival was scheduled for the weekend and (finally) a decent weather forecast. Ready, set, GO! 

The local "pirate ship" came out to greet us; tiny by comparison to our ship.

One of the rare times we needed a push boat to get into our assigned location because it was so tight, and a couple of local boats came to assist.

Quite a crowd greeted us on the dock

Next morning we had breakfast at a small cafe across the harbour; looking back at our ship. While sitting there incognito (as in, we weren't wearing our crew t-shirts because it was our day off) we overheard the harbourmaster, who was having breakfast at a nearby table talking to his table mate about the way in which our ship had come in.

Several pubs right across the street from us (and we visited most of them!)

As it turned out, the hill that I thought could be a good location for a castle? There **was** a castle there -- or more properly, the ruins of one. So while initially I thought I was vindicated in my understanding of how medievals thought about defense, it urns out I was off by a couple of thousand years! This location has been inhabited since the Bronze Age; 3000 years. It was a signal station during Roman times in addition to the castle ruins that date from the 1100s. Cool stuff!

We hiked up to the historic site; here's the view back down to the town and harbour.

Scarborough Castle was probably my favourite one that we'd seen so far. I couldn't quite describe why; it was no grander than other ruins, and we'd visited several that were either preserved or reconstructed inside to give us a better understanding of what it might have been like. Maybe I'd done enough traveling around England by this point that I could really understand the building in context. But I credit also the excellent audio tour provided here, telling the history of battles and everyday life in the castle from the viewpoint of various soldiers, kings, and villagers. So also a great motivation for our living history work on board the ship. 

Part of the hike up the hill to the castle gave us this lovely overview of the beach on the other side of the headland.

The (modern) gate to the castle area heritage site.

Memories of our too-brief visit to Scotland; thistle!

One of the "perks" of traveling this way: when we visit as tall ship crew, we get a very different experience than if we were simply "retired couple touring in a rented mini-van." In this case the park staffer gave us a discount on the entry fee and added the audiotour for free. And since I normally prefer to learn by reading instead of listening, I wouldn't normally have purchased the audio. Now I realize what an opportunity for understanding I would have missed!

Afterwards, we stopped at a local pub recommended by one of our visitors, called "The Merchant" Irish pub. Three people were standing at the bar, looking at the “upcoming live entertainment” schedule posted by the door. One of them pointed and commented something like, “Lookit that!” or “That’s gonna be amazing,” at the exact second we walked in the door. So it seemed they were pointing and saying that about us (in our El Galeon jackets). So I did a ridiculous “who, me?” pose, like "yes, I agree I'm amazing." They all burst out laughing. We burst out laughing. The bartender burst out laughing. It was clearly going to be one of those nights.