Vacation Notes 2015: September 14th: Journey's End

Monday, September 14^th.

It’s Monday. A day spent at sea. A lazy day at sea. A very lazy day at sea.

We sleep in and enjoy a relatively late breakfast. The wife continues engaging in her Jedi mind-tricks in hopes of beating jet lag.

 

Daughter and I ate lunch together on the upper deck. We watched as we drifted by Mt. Stromboli. It’s much more formidable in person than the picture on the pizza box would suggest.

I decided that I would spend some time by the pool reading. Bon chance! The pool side is surrounded by bodies of all sorts stuffed in bikinis—it’s amazing to see how much stuffing a bikini can actually endure. Eventually I’m able to find an empty chair among the sun-baked hams covering the deck. I join them, set to medium broil and read my book, breaking away occasionally for a refreshment refill.

Today is the day of the teenage rock-climb challenge and daughter is ready. The race up the wall will begin at 4:30, more or less. Both the wife and I make time in our busy day to attend the event.

After the rock-climbing event we try to take a pre-dinner walk around the upper deck, but some end-of-cruise maintenance cuts our stroll short.

There are bookings and rides to be arranged for when we de-boat. (Is it correct to say de-boat? I know we de-plane.) The wife skips off to do her thing in the Internet Café, while daughter and I take up residence in the Centrum. There we engaged in a game of "Heads Up".

 

Eventually wife finished the final confirmations and we all went to the forward "Viking Lounge" to pass some time before dinner. We sat in glorious air-conditioning overlooking red bodies baking by the pool. Once again, we played daughter’s iPhone-game, "Heads Up". .

Dinner in the Edelweiss, aboard the Rhapsody of the Sea, one last time. We were joined once again by Jims and Fiona. Also joining us for this last dinner is a New Zealander, whose name has escaped me, and her mom.

After dinner, we returned to our room to pack for our departure.

Once again, we tried to take the walk around the upper deck. Once again, we were detoured by maintenance. We descended the 6th level, through the Schooner Bar and into another night of hardly-anybody-there karaoke.

We selected a song, Ob-bla-di Ob-bla-da. My voice was in frog mode tonight and notes as most people know them, did not emerge. Oh well, nobody seemed to mind. The room contained only the usual suspects. By 12:30am the DJ had had enough and shut us down for the night. We returned to our room.

Our departure will be early. Breakfast starts at six and because we are carrying our luggage we must leave the boat by 7:30am. This actually works to our benefit, as we need to get to the airport in Rome for an AM flight.

Si dispone di una notte di riposo .

 

Vacation Notes 2015: September 13th, Port of Katakoton, Greece

Captain’s Log: Cruise Day 12, September 13, Sunday.

It's a late arrival today. We pull into the Port of Katakoton, Greece around 10:00am. This allows for a much appreciated sleep-in and a leisurely breakfast.

The wife, the daughter, and I were among the first to exit the ship. We didn’t have any definite plans for the day but we did have bathing suits.

 

The primary draw of Katakolon is its proximity to Olympia, official sponsor of the first Olympic games -- from a time before you had to pay money to be a sponsor. We’d already opted out of cruise-sanctioned excursions to Olympia. What they all had in common was that they abandoned you for two hours. Olympia appears to be beautiful region, but it’s mostly open fields, so an excursion means standing around in 90-plus degree heat with few places to duck the sun. For a moment we thought we might do this on our own.

We walked into town straight into the first of many car rental agencies in Katakoton. But we were torn between renting a car, and visiting the town, so we delayed making a decision.

It appears that Katakolon exists primarily to provide a stopping-off place for cruise ships. The town is awash in taverns, cafes and tourist shops. They offer genuine Greek food, genuine Greek souvenirs, and genuine German beer trains. There is no evidence of shops that might be frequented by normal residents. We didn’t see any bakeries or butcheries or fresh produceries.

Still the shops are pleasant. Most feature a sidewalk hawker hoping to lure shoppers into their store. Often this person is a pretty young woman or a handsome Greek gentlemen ripped from the pages of GQ.

Naturally, we stopped in a few of these places, mostly in search of a dress for Daughter, and naturally, we made the usual number of unplanned purchases along the way.

At one of our final stops, the shopkeeper, taking notice that we were walking around with swimsuits hanging out of our bags, suggested we visit a nearby beach. It was only 100 meters past the main square/train station.

We walked the 100 meters, until we arrived at the "Marina Fresh Fish"

"Marina Fresh Fish" offered free Wi-Fi, free sun beds, which we typically refer to as beach chairs, free umbrellas and free canoe games. I'm not exactly sure what canoe games means, but there were a couple of inflatable devices at our disposal.

We grabbed an empty station--three chairs and an umbrella--and readied ourselves for a dip in the Aegean Sea.

The beach was sandy, maybe not natural, as most of the underfoot in this region seems to be rock, but it was much appreciated. The water was clear as far down as we could see, which was as far as light could penetrate, which was no less than 6 feet and almost certainly more.

 

The water was warm, not quite spa temperatures, but certainly as warm as the tail-end of a hot bath.

Prior to stepping into the sea I'd wisely ordered a beer for myself and a fruit smoothie for Daughter. The bartender told me to go back on the beach; they’d find us. He did not take payment. I'm not sure how they kept track of us but they did. The server found us on the beach and delivered our drinks. He too did not take payment.

There’s not too much I can say at this point. When one goes in the Aegean Sea time stands still and any desire to leave is… well there is no desire to leave. Eventually, though, that big ship off in the distance started tooting its horn, and we were compelled to heed its call.

I walked to the bar to settle up. My drink was 3.5 Euro; Daughter's drink was 3.5 Euro. In typical Greek the-sticker-price-is-never-the-purchase-price math this added up to 6.5 Euro. It is apparent that price tags in this part of the world represent nothing more than starting points.

The town of Katakolon has only three streets parallel to the waterfront. This time we took the seaside route back to the ship…and as we drew closer to the dock our pace slowed. This was about to be our last moment touching land in Greece. This seemed a significant moment, so we stopped and photographed our feet just before we stepped onto the dock. Goodbye, Greece. Till we meet again.

 –  –  –

Back on board it was formal night. We dressed up such as we had: dresses for Wife and Daughter, dockers and a native Greek shirt – purchased in Santorini – for me. We went to dine at our assigned table. Once again, Jims and Fiona were there to help us dissect the day.

Wife and Fiona indulged in the new-found practice of ordering multiple deserts.

After diner, the wife and I took a walk around the upper deck. Daughter did her usual teen-event thing.

After our upper-deck walk we headed to the Ballroom Theatre early in order to get a seat for the much anticipated big production they called Piano Man.

Unfortunately, whatever technical problems plagued the originally scheduled production returned for tonight's production. As a result the Piano Man show was replaced by a comic juggler. No offense to comic jugglers, but we took a pass.

We stopped to collect Daughter, but it was too early to call it a night. Seeking an alternative form of amusement we headed to the Last Dance ballroom to watch some Karaoke. To gain entry to the "Last Dance" we had to pass through the Schooner bar, and it was there that Daughter noticed the Green Bay/Chicago football game on the TV – without sound. She and Wife took a seat hoping to see some Seahawks highlights. Eventually, Daughter realized she might be able to hear the game from the glowing panel in our room, so we were persuaded to head back.

 

When the game was over – sad day for the Hawks – the wife and I renewed our Karaoke trek.

As we entered the room we noticed that, except for the DJ, the room was empty. Emboldened by this emptiness Wife picked up the songbook and started browsing. While we browsed, some Karaoke regulars – Ron, Yvonne, and Yolanda – made an entrance. Soon the singing began.

Wife finally settled on "Sloop John B." by the Beach Boys. She recruited me and Ron to sing along. Yvonne also joined us to help with girl parts. Yolanda played the part of the audience.

A few more people filtered in, and the singing continued, until… At some predetermined hour Karaoke ended and a take-off on "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" that they called "Who Wants to Feel Like a Millionaire" began. Wife was the first contestant. She answered all the questions, earning herself a bottle of champagne, a Royal Caribbean backpack, a Royal Caribbean hat, a Royal Caribbean multi-color pen, a Royal Caribbean highlighter, Royal Caribbean luggage tags, Royal Caribbean zipper clips and a Royal Caribbean keychain. She donated the champagne to the audience member who’d helped her answer a question about the weight of a Royal Caribbean cruise liner.

After the show we scoured the ship for the usual coffee, hot chocolate, and cookies before calling it a night in our cabin.

My wife has stolen a page from the Dan Post Crazy-Ass-School-of-Medicine and has been attempting to counter future jet-lag with Jedi mind tricks, and plans to stay up all night and sleep during the day. She has clients the morning after we return home. That should be fun. My advice to her was to use the old Marx Brothers trick of painting eyeballs on your eyelids.

Tomorrow is a day at sea. We should arrive in Rome, technically the Port of Civitavecchia, around 5:00am. Our return flight from Rome is 11:00am. There should be plenty of time to sleep on the plane.

Uh-huh.

Vacation Notes 2015: September 12th, Athens, Greece

If it's Tuesday this must be Belgium, but it's not Tuesday, it's Saturday so this must be Athens. Greece.

The ship pulled into port early. Sadly, early arrivals are indicative of early departures. There is more to see and do in Athens than we could possibly hope to fit in. If we had a month to explore, then maybe, but we’ll have to make do with the few hours we’re allowed.

We awoke early, around 5:00. Ah-hem, showered, and shaved. We scurried on down to the Windjammer café for a breakfast before dawn. We hastily downed our scrambled eggs and various liquids, and, quick as a pre-dawn yawn, headed down to the gangway to step ashore. Except we didn’t. Once arrived at the gangway the crew informed us that passport control was late in granting us leave. They did not have any idea when we could leave the vessel.

There's not much you can do when border agents with guns tell you to stay on your vessel while they leisurely consume their breakfast. OK, there is stuff you can do, but none of it ends well. We went back up a few decks to wait out the delay in the Centrum (that big space in the middle of the ship where all the big events happen.)

As it turned out the delay was not so long. We were able to disembark a little after 7:00am.

The wife had hired a car to take us into the city, basically a taxi but probably without a legitimate taxi license. Think Uber, with even less legitimacy. Nevertheless, our driver, Harijs, turned out to be a pleasant fellow who spoke flawless English. As he drove us into Athens he talked non-stop, leaving us with bits of trivia, history, and politics. He and my wife got into quite a discussion about Syrian refugees. He kindly dropped us off at the base of the Acropolis.

Even with our delayed departure from the ship, we managed to arrive at the Acropolis before the gates were open to the public. We actually arrived before the raising of the Greek flag. This turned out to be lucky as it afforded us the opportunity to watch the Greek guard as they marched in formation to raise the flag.

The guard was a serious unit of young men, armed with what looked like American AK47s. They lined up and began their march toward the top of the Acropolis. I should say nice things. After all, we have another day in Greece tomorrow, but their marching style appeared to have been stolen from Monty Python’s Ministry of Silly Walks. It was a left-foot down hard, raise the right, tiny shuffle forward and repeat. If you think this sounds as though it might be difficult to get around this way you would be right. This reduces each soldiers stride to around 6 inches. I supposed the purpose might be to create a loud and threatening stomping noise, giving any potential enemy plenty of warning that an army was headed in their direction, and, as an added bonus, plenty of time to run away.

Eventually they made it to the gate, and, when largely out of sight, resumed a more normal gait to the top of the Acropolis, where they raised the Greek flag.

In the meantime, we purchased our tickets and began our own climb towards the Parthenon.

There are times when “climb” is the hyperbole of an old man; not so today. The path upward is uneven to say the least. The marble pathways were laid down over 20 centuries ago and they show their age. No longer is the surface smooth and even, as the ancient Greeks had probably intended. It has grown worn, pitted, and polished slick by billions of footsteps. Some areas have been re-paved slightly to compensate for the poor footing. However, and this is a good thing, they have avoided paving over any ground where the original marble still covers the surface.

The guidebooks indicate that there are over 200 steps leading up to the Propylaea Entrance. Some guidebooks indicate that there are only 100 steps. Either way, it's a lot of steps. More importantly it's not really clear how they define a step. Is it the short rises with extended flat areas, about a meter in depth, or is it the more standard-depth variety with oversized riders, or are they referring to the remains of what would have been marble steps but are now no more than ascending rocks? However it is they define steps, you need to climb them all.

Once through the gates you enter an area currently consisting of four ancient buildings in various stages of restoration: the Parthenon, the Temple of Athena Nike, the Erechtheion, and the Propylaea.

The Parthenon is obviously the most impressive of these buildings, even while it undergoes some reconstruction. Apparently a preservation effort of the 1910s has had some undesirable consequences necessitating the current restoration process. The plan, as is clearly visible in some photos, is to replace badly damaged pieces with new pieces made from the same materials. It's an amazing effort that only illustrates how amazing the original construction was. Even with 21st-century equipment the re-construction is a slow and arduous task.

The Acropolis affords a viewpoint second to none in Athens. From our vantage point, we could easily see all the way out to the sea, around seven miles away. It should have been impossible for approaching armies to ever catch the Athenians by surprise. It’s too bad that nobody told the Spartans about this impossibility.

Luckily we have few enemies to worry about on this day. We could see the remains of the Temple of Zeus, Pilopappou Hill, and several other sites that we would not have the time to visit in person.

Because we were among the first visitors to arrive at the Parthenon—on this day—we had the place virtually to ourselves for the first couple of hours. Watching the sun rise through the columns of the Parthenon may be one of the most breathtaking experiences on earth. And because mornings in Greece are breezy and cool, this crack-of-dawn visit comes highly recommended. Guidebooks estimate up to 2.5 miles of walking are necessary. I think that may be true if you take a guided tour. They tend to stay on a defined path. The free-lance tourist, however, is under no such restrictions to stay on the path most traveled. The Acropolis is (mostly) open to the public and to those not so sure footed, can be seriously challenging. I think it is safe to double the 2.5 miles estimate.

The space may be immense but it is not too long before it gets filled to capacity with visitors. It is my understanding that at times it gets so crowded that they simply do not allow additional people to enter. Anyway in addition to crowded, Greece gets unbearably hot in the afternoons and the dust kicked up by all the visitors does nothing to help. We exited after an hour or more and headed to the old city.

Along our way to the old city we passed a point called Areopagus Hill. The hill had a plethora of uses in ancient times. But today, for no particular reason, you can climb the approximately 120 meters, or take the modern stairs, or take the ancient marble stairs and scurry about on the top, from side to side, overlooking the old city. Daughter and I made the climb while my wife waited below to snap photos. I went up just a few meters beyond the reach of the stairs, while Daughter ventured slightly further.

After playing around on the hill for a bit we continued downhill into the old city with stops at various places including a very large museum, the Kaisariani Monastery, and the Hephaestus Temple.

Leaving the ancient areas we entered into a more rural shopping district, no doubt designed with people like us in mind. It consisted of the normal souvenir stands as well as a healthy number of outdoor eateries. By eateries I mean everything from full-course Greek restaurants to Ben & Jerry's.

After picking up the required number of souvenirs, we settled into a restaurant.

Despite knowing the kitchen was still 20 minutes from opening we still opted to order a lunch. I know that when we ordered lunch we explained that we were but lowly passengers from a cruise ship with a limited amount of time. I don’t think it registered as significant. We waited. An accordion player passed by, playing "Never on a Sunday". I stupidly over-tipped and he ran off to the next sucker. We waited some more. Another three-piece band showed up: an accordion player, a horn blower, and a tambourine man. This time I did not over tip. They quickly ran off looking for the next sucker. We waited.

Finally, our meal arrived, as did our sense of panic regarding place and time. At this point we had no idea how to get back to the ship. We ate quickly and headed out in search of the notorious hop-on-hop-off red bus. Not the blue bus. And not the yellow bus..

We found the bus stand—a weather-beaten placard of questionable validity in front of an outdoor café. It was the right place; however, as it turned out, the bus would not be taking us back to the port but to another transfer station. This didn’t seem to be a problem We should make it to the transfer station on time and we would get to see a little bit of Athens outside of the tourist zone.

I really shouldn’t say anything negative about Athens outside of the tourist zone. It is a city of four million people and as can be expected of any area with so many people, there is a bit of an ugly underbelly that can is exposed now and again.

There were several stops in stop-and-go traffic before we made our transfer that would take us back to the Port of Piraeus.

Getting off the bus at the Port of Piraeus, there was a gauntlet of vendors separating us from our entry to passport control. My wife could not resist engaging a few. They were selling new iPhones and Samsung phones, and watches, both genuine gold and silver, and all for around $60.

The path through the vendor fields was long but we did make it back on ship.

This has been a great trip, but I fear we may have turned a corner and become old people. Once on board, we napped until around 6:00PM.

Once again we dined with Jims and Fiona. Like us, they had had a long day in the sun. Jims wasn't feeling too well and left early. Daughter, as was usual, left early to go to the teen’s club. As has also been usual she did not find too many fellow teens down there and returned early to the cabin. She sleeps still.

Wife and I made the obligatory lap around the upper deck and then, while on a search for more brown liquid, headed to the Schooner Bar for a Beatles and Queen trivia. Too easy.

Interestingly, walking through the Schooner Bar is the only way to get to another venue called "Let's Dance" or some such thing. Anyway, they were having a karaoke night. We stayed for a bit before leaving to pick up the search for a cup of java.

Scoring a cuppa by the back pool, I poured myself some joe and my wife some chocolate, and we returned to our stateroom?

Tomorrow is a slow day. We arrive in the Port of Katakolon, Greece at around 10:00am. Olympus is a possibility but apparently, it is not high on anyone's agenda. Once again we aren’t planning on going on any of Royal Caribbean’s excursions. We’ll wing it! Maybe rent a car, or some bikes. Definitely no donkeys! We’ll decide when we get there. It’ll be a short visit before beginning the voyage back to Rome.

Vacation Notes 2015: September 11: Santorini, Greece

Once again, we've opted out of any of Royal Caribbean’s shore excursions. We've chosen to go on our own, again.

Today, we're pulling in to Santorini, Greece. It's a beautiful island and the birthplace of virtually every postcard from Greece.

We rose early and had breakfast on-board. The wife opted for the more formal Edelweiss dining room, while the young ’un and I opted for the buffet in the Windjammer Cafe.

We re-grouped by the pool before heading out. It was only slightly after 8:00AM when we boarded the tender for Santorini.

We were dropped of at the Port of Fira and like the thousand or so other tourists, got in the line leading to the gondola. The gondolas offer easy access to the village of Fira which sits approximately 220 meters above sea level.

But the line was long and not moving very fast. I have no idea how many people were actually waiting for the gondola, but the gondolas can purportedly transport approximately 1,200 people per hour and the line did not appear to be moving.

The wife grew impatient with our progress and opted out of the line in search of alternative methods of transportation. She found it: a fast trip on a boat straight out of Mamma Mia from the Port of Fira to another entry way to Santorini: the Port of Oia.

Why didn't they just drop us off at the Port of Oia in the first place? My first guess would be that Oia is too small to handle large numbers of tourists. My second guess would be because Oia is no closer to sea level than Fira, and Oia has no gondolas, only a staircase and a very steep road.

However, as it turned out we had to walk up neither the stairs nor the roadway. Our ferry ticket included a bus ride up to the top! As can be expected in any roadway that hugs a cliff, the ride from sea-

level to village-level featured several turns that would have challenged a Fiat on a roadway that was, in spots, barely wide enough for a Fiat, let alone a full-size bus.

At no point did I fear a horrific death should the bus slip over the edge and fall to the rocks below. My ability to live in a state of denial for what were actually only a few minutes is incredible.

A word about the water surrounding Santorini: You can see as deeply into the water as the light allows, which is usually all the way to the rocky bottom. Perhaps it is this lack of sand that keeps the water so clear. Gaze off in the distance and the water mirrors the bright blue of the sky. In fact, all of Santorini -- sky, water, and even the buildings -- is composed of the sort of exaggerated bright colors that are most commonly seen in a Crayola art project.

The bus dropped us off at a depot at the top of the hill, just outside of Oia. This is where our walking tour began.

There's not much that I can say that isn’t better with photographs. Like Mykonos, Oia is washed in white. From its position, basically hanging off the side of a cliff, and bathed in the unfiltered light of the Mediterranean sun, and further supplemented by the reflection of the clear seas, Oia is blinding. It’s a brilliance that would easily have melted any pair of waxen wings.

We enter Oia through what must be one of hundreds of similar entryways. These labyrinthine pathways, narrow with high walls, twist and turn past homes, hotels, restaurants and often just stone walls toward the center of the village. There additional shops and restaurants wait for the seasonal visitors.

As has come to be expected we shopped, making purchases of food, souvenirs, and souvenirs disguised as clothing.

Also, as we have come to expect, hunger hit us. We stopped for lunch in a rooftop cafe overlooking the city and its harbors.

Many shops and blocks and hundreds of pictures later we headed back to our return bus.

It pays to read the fine print. We had expected that the bus would simply take us back down to the same port we’d come up from, and we would board the ferry back to the port of Fira. That was not to be. Instead the bus took us from Oia to Fira. Once again the road we travelled was narrow, seemingly etched into the side of a cliff, with nothing more than a painted white line between us and a long, straight drop. It was an interesting ride – longer than we’d remembered from a previous visit to the island – and featured several locations where there was only enough width for one vehicle to pass.

As we could have guessed had we given it any thought, the bus was too wide to actually take us into Fira. It dropped us off down the hill and the driver pointed us – literally, he stepped out of the bus and pointed – in the general direction of the gondolas on the far side of the village.

So, off we trudged, a busload of displaced tourists, in the general direction of where the driver pointed. We walked winding roads and ignored signs placed to lead us through more shopping districts before our actual destination.

After hitting some dead ends we landed on a path that felt right. We could see the gondola cables overhead, so we imagined we were close. But, as it turned out we had walked too far, past what was likely the cable-car entrance. But several of the locals waived us onward, so there were no turning back. Maybe that was the gondola entrance, back a hundred meters or so, but maybe it wasn’t. What was certain was that the path we were on was leading down.

Down, down, down until the thought of retracing our steps back up to the cable car stop seemed more difficult than continuing down the mountain. But then we came upon the donkeys!

These were the infamous donkeys of the equally infamous donkey path. Daughter and I were hesitant about mounting small animals in the hot sun, but the wife got drawn into a debate with the donkey guide. She waived him off, saying we were too big, but he argued otherwise, and after a few minutes of back and forth, she got worn down and, thinking it would be an adventure, we were persuaded to ride the donkeys the rest of the way down the mountain.

Poor donkeys!

As it turns out donkeys aren't nearly as sure-footed as one might suspect. They slipped and stumbled no less than I would have. Of course, having four legs instead of only two is probably helpful when trying to avoid a spill.

The ride was slower than expected. I actually felt that I would have made better time on my own. But that is easy for me to say since the donkeys were the ones doing all the walking.

Once again, as often seems to be the case with Greek transportation, we were dropped off well short of our destination. Donkeys don’t take you all the way down—or all the way up for that matter. We were left with a healthy number of steps to go down on foot. But that was OK. In the end it was probably a perfect place to stop as both the donkeys and we were growing weary of one another.

Passing through a few more another labyrinthine passages we found our tender and lined up for the return to trip to our ship.

We had some big plans upon our return but both ladies fell asleep – the wife only after showering away the donkey smell. I showered as well and emerged ready for a nap but, alas, there was no room on the bed. I made myself comfortable in a chair and read.

Dinner came upon us quick - as happens when you are sleeping (I did manage to get a short nap in.) once again we dined in the Edelweiss with Jims and Fiona.

After dinner, daughter-girl broke off for more teen activities. After a quick lap on the upper deck, the little woman and I headed to the ballroom theatre for the headline show, a British comedian. He was entertaining.

We ended the night with hot chocolate and really, that's it.

We plan an early start for tomorrow, when we visit Athens. We’re hoping for another beautiful sunny day.

Vacation Notes 2015: September 10th: Kusadasi, Turkey

A cruise is not at all like a box of chocolates; it’s more like a lifetime of vacations squeezed into the space of 9 nights and 10 days. A regular vacation comes with built-in (dull) moments where the mind and body can relax and recover. However, with hundreds of things to do and see, with new tastes and smells waiting around every corner, notions such as sleep and relaxation seem out of place when on a cruise.

Today we pulled into the Port of Kusadasi, Turkey.

For many visitors the Port of Kusadasi is primarily the gateway to the ancient port-city of Ephesus. Ephesus, which once flourished under Roman rule and was the third largest city in the region, was founded around 50 BC, plus or minus a few years. Today, all that remains are the ruins of that era. the ruins, however, retain more than enough of their glory to remain nothing less than awe inspiring.

Of greater importance than the amazing architecture to some visitors is that Ephesus' prominence in biblical history. The apostle Paul spent significant time in Ephesus. He taught in Ephesus as well as establishing a school. It it also believed that the Apostle John lived here, and with John, Jesus’s mother Mary. Since the 19th century it has been believed by many that Ephesus is where Mary made her final home.


So, if you ever find yourself in Kusadasi do not miss out on an opportunity to visit Ephesus. We did. In 2007! But in 2015 it was hot—over 90 degrees. And there is very little shade in Ephesus. Actually, I’m not sure that there is any shade in Ephesus. It’s also dry and dusty. And really, the ruins, while magnificent,  are over 2,000 years old. They probably hadn’t changed much since 2007. On our last visit here we virtually ignored Kusadasi. basically seeing only as much as was necessary to get from the ship to a bus to Ephesus.  So, we decided that this time around we would spend the day near the cooling waters, in Kusadasi.

We stepped on land not unreasonably late, a little after 10:00am. There were no tenders to be concerned about at this stop. This was a walk-on, walk-off port.

We were required to go through an unusually—for the cruise circuit—formal customs station. Turkish security personnel take themselves much more seriously than any others that we had encountered on this trip. 

Immediately upon exiting the customs queues, you find yourself in the middle of a shopping mall. It is a genuine Turkish-experience as imagined by entrepreneurs with the cruise-ship tourists in mind. We only made it as far as the first rug merchant before we were snagged.

Snagged is too harsh a word to accurately convey what actually happens. Enticed would be more appropriate. As appears to be customary in Turkey, as well as Greece actually, is that all shops assign someone to stand outside and engage with the passersby in hopes of enticing them to enter. Once inside the prospective customer is set upon, in a good way, by several sales people all working in tandem to close some sort of a deal.

We had no less than three sales people attending to us at any given time. They would roll out carpet after carpet for our perusal. Carpets were not presented to us randomly. they were chose in  direct response to how we reacted to the previous offering.  We were served traditional apple-tea – very hot.
In spite of their best efforts we were not able to bridge the gap between their lowest price and what we wanted to pay.


We continued on our way through the market place. We passed a jeweler, a leather goods store, and voila! Luck of all luck, another rug merchant!

I believe the only job of this store's greeter was ascertaining our primary language. That seemed to be the limit of what his non-Turkish language skills would allow. He ushered us inside to an English-speaking salesman who immediately took over the task of being our best friend. He coordinated, with his associates, the swift unraveling of many carpets for our perusing pleasure. Once again we were served the traditional apple-tea, only this time it was served cold. This time we, or maybe they, had a little more luck as we were able to find a quality carpet that met our budget.

At this point we split up. Rather than carry around a rolled-up carpet for the remainder of our day, L***decided to return the carpet to our cabin. While she was gone M*** and I went to visit what appeared to be an ancient castle--right there at the end of Liman Avenue.

Upon closer inspection the castle walls appeared to be genuine, but I could not ascertain whether they had built centuries ago or simply in the last century. the castle had been restored to  some semblance of a Turkish compound, that had then been converted to a shopping bizarre. Somehow the name on the outside wall—Grand Bazaar—had failed to give me a clue. Oh well.

I’ll insert a moment of truth here—not that everything else isn’t also true. I do not enjoy haggling. I had hoped to find a suitable t-shirt. What could be more American than going to Turkey and coming home with a T-shirt? It’s not as though I wanted something elaborate, but I did want something that would not be mistaken for a genuine Fruit-of-the-Loom. the price of a T-shirt began at 20 Euros, the Bazaar being one of the few places in Kusadasi that was accepting Euros. I just didn't feel that the time spent haggling towards getting the price down to a respectably overpriced 7 to 9 Euros was worth the effort.

L*** eventually rejoined us and we continued on our way.

We passed by—almost—a local jeweler who flagged us with offers of gold and earrings and such. L*** took the bait. We were taken inside, given comfortable seats and once again, we were served apple-tea. It was served hot. Our merchant showed us a box of precious stones and swore they could be set in earrings before our ship departed. Sadly for the merchant the gap between his final price and an amount we were comfortable paying proved to be too wide to overcome.

I think it’s worth mentioning that as much as I may dislike haggling, all of the merchants we encountered, whether or not they made the sale, were extremely gracious even as we were leaving. Good manners or just good business? What difference does it make?

We entered a small tobacco shop to make what we thought would be one final fast purchase before returning to the ship. M*** had wanted to pick up some souvenirs for her friends. 

It was easily the least amount of money we'd spent anyplace. This should have been fast. But, it was in the tobacco shop that our credit card was denied. We went to a local Starbucks - yes, they have an emergency Starbucks in Turkey—in case a misplaced Seattle-ite suddenly needs a latte, or free Wi-Fi. However, the Starbucks Wi-Fi proved to be unusable. Luckily, there was a small Turkish lunch counter with more useful Wi-Fi service nearby.

After the bank assured us that there was no problem with the card, we went back to the tobacco shop. The card was denied again. We tried again with a different card. That was denied, also. Finally, we tried with a different card from a different bank. It worked! There’s no moral to this story but just be aware that when you’re bank tells you, “all is well” they’re only referring to how things are working at their branch office in Delaware, not whether or not they are accepted 8,000 miles from home.

Slightly tired and with final purchases in hand we headed back to the ship, deciding to call it a day in Kusadasi.

A significant line entering the customs building separated us from the ship. They run everyone through a mini security gate complete with an X-ray machine for baggage and a metal detector to catch any Turkish-Swiss army knives.

Once through the security gate you’re compelled to walk through a duty-free shop, most likely in hopes that you’ll feel compelled to make one last purchase. However, no matter how intimidating the armed guards may attempt to be, you are not actually required to make a purchase. We returned to our ship with little more than the normal badge-waving that that requires.

On board I settled down to business; a nap before dinner. L****, feeling a little bit of ship-cabin fever, went back out for one last stroll through Kusadasi.

After nap-time. i was rejoined by L**** and M**** and  we once again dined with Jims and F****.

After diner M**** scooted off to her on-board teenage activity room. This is the place where the on-board teenagers gather together to mope about like teenagers and complain about their parents.  L**** donned a bathing suit for some pool-side reading and a swim, but not before accompanying me on a walk around the upper deck.

While L**** reposed by the pool I visited the forward ballroom for a few moments of the evening's entertainment: a family-friendly comedian and singer. She wasn't bad on either count but I soon left to visit the Schooner Lounge and listen to their featured piano player. Blond, beautiful, and Australian, she could really play the piano. And the songs she sung weren’t bad either, if you ever feel the need to get yourself in the mood to kill yourself. I might have stayed longer but the only drink they were serving—that I could handle—was Sprite Zero, not a favorite of mine.

I went back to the upper decks and hooked up again with L****. We took another stroll or two around the upper-most deck. It may seem as though we did a lot of pointless strolling but I was attempting to maintain a minimum walk count of 10,000 steps a day. My average was actually over 13,800 by this time.

We added a few more extra steps in search of some hot chocolate and a cookie, no cookie for me, before deciding to call it a night. Tomorrow we will rise somewhat early as we hope to be among the first to step foot on Santorini, Greece.

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