Portugal: Cruising the Douro River

My third Road Scholar trip of the year (and probably the last I will take for some time) brought me to northern Portugal. Originally I had signed up for a cruise around Cuba in March 2018, but when that program was cancelled, the Portugal excursion appeared to be a reasonable substitute. The trip was bought and paid for long before I decided to sell the house and move to Academy Village. In retrospect, it came at the wrong time, because Ron still wasn't used to his new surroundings. The day before I returned, he took the dog for a walk and got completely lost; he was quite dehydrated by the time neighbors brought him home. When the caretaker learned of this, she decided she ought to stay with him all the time until I got back. That was probably a wise move, but to receive authorization she first called Karen and then, when Karen demurred, contacted  Daniel. Daniel was understandably very upset, as something bad seems to happen every time I'm away. For any forthcoming travel I will have to arrange for housing Ron temporarily at Academy Villas, the community assisted-living facility, and find a pet sitter for the dog and cat. Given the dissatisfaction I felt with some aspects of this Road Scholar program, it hardly seems worth it.

There were pleasant things about the Portugal excursion, to be sure. The best was finding a group of three congenial women, Linnaea, Ella, and Vasiliki, who were enthusiastic about the food and wine available on the cruise--especially the wine. Since the Douro region is the home of port, terraced vineyards all along the river bore familiar names (Sandeman, Taylor). White port was the drink of choice for a before-dinner aperitif and tawny port for the after-dinner entertainment. Surprisingly, the program included only one scheduled wine tasting, at the Quinta do Tedo winery, but during a morning visit to the Mateus estate, included in the program because of its chateau and formal garden, some of the Road Scholar contingent happened upon its tasting room, which was already open for business. We commandeered seats and, for one and one-half euros, enjoyed generous pours of excellent table wines. This was the better tasting experience of the two, as it was unstructured and serendipitous. As for the chateau with its indifferent French and Italian oils and furniture, and the garden, which was OK only if one admires eighteenth-century horticulture, it could be easily skipped.

I should add, however, that the river cruise included wine at lunch and dinner, and one of the wines they regularly poured was Mateus Rosé. If anyone had told me I would go back to drinking Mateus after all these years, I would have been shocked. But their rosé has improved since the 1960s--keeping pace with the palate of consumers, it's now much dryer--and I found myself, along with my three companions, ordering it instead of a red on several occasions. Since the sugar content is lower, it didn't cause the headaches one used to get from consuming too much of it, and in fact the alcohol content is lower as well, just 11%. In addition to its pleasant past associations, then, the wine was something that could be indulged in without serious consequences.

So the cuisine and the conversation that went with it were reasonably good, but the sites, especially those around Lisbon, weren't always the ones I would have chosen to visit. The university library and the law faculty building at Coímbra had historic importance, to be sure, but not enough to justify trudging through the rain, climbing interminable stairs, and trying not to slip on damp cobblestones. At Queluz we spent almost two hours at an eighteenth-century summer palace. Architecture of that period leaves me cold, as does Baroque painting; there was far too much of both on the program. Then there was the Coach Museum, remarkable only for its tediousness, example after example of royal pomp and extravagance. Why the guides thought it worth taking groups to defies all explanation. Finally, at the end of the program, we went to the Gulbenkian Museum, which I had already done during the 2008 FIEC meeting. The collection, though extensive, isn't particularly good--among the Old Masters, only one Rubens stood out, and some of the Egyptian materials had a whiff of fakery about them.

Enough of griping. Other places were well worth the visit. One memorable occasion was a walk in Porto along the banks of the Douro, passing under three impressive bridges, including one designed by Gustav Eiffel. Linnaea, Vasiliki, and I parted from the group to do our own exploring and happened upon an arresting piece of street art--a rabbit composed of recycled junk.

The highlight of the entire program was the art-nouveau Casa Lis in Salamanca. Our stop there was all too brief, and after lunch (which gave me the occasion to use my Spanish), Linnaea and I took advantage of free time to go back and do the rooms in depth.

Summing up: the scenery was impressive and the cruise itself relaxing, and I could sincerely feel that I had earned a few days' rest after all the stress of moving. Nevertheless I wonder whether I would want to fill up my future life with successive trips, as some of the single women on board were doing. Ella was even making arrangements during the cruise for her next outing--an individually guided tour through the Brazilian rain forest, jaguar sightings guaranteed, costing over eleven thousand dollars. As I remarked to Linnaea, for $20 I can go to the Desert Museum in Tucson and see Mexican jaguars in their natural habitat, and I doubt Brazilian jaguars are larger or fiercer enough to justify the extra expense. For some of the affluent widows I've met, travel seems to provide the sole source of excitement in an otherwise drab existence. I hope that I can connect with other residents at Academy Village in ways that will resemble the camaraderie of shipboard friendships but prove more durable, and simultaneously find new sources of interest to take the place of any travel I have to forego.

Iceland and the Islands of the North, July 2018

For my Road Scholar cruise to Iceland and the Shetland and Faroe Islands (the Orkneys were originally included as well, but were dropped from the itinerary), I kept a journal, so I can draw more deeply on personal reflections for this blog. However, the journal doesn't preserve many impressions of the places visited. That's because the shore excursions were mostly unsatisfying. Trips to British tourist attractions--Westminster Abbey, the Museum of London, The Tower of London, and the Royal Mile in Edinburgh--were rushed, with very little time to go about on one's own. Weather in Iceland was cold and rainy (in contrast to London, which sweltered in 80 degree temperatures). The jacket I brought, though waterproof, was not adequate and I had to wear a turtleneck and a sweater beneath it. On a last-minute impulse, I had packed gloves and a wool scarf, but even so my first purchase ashore was a knit cap. While Iceland is rugged and impressive, the landscape is largely volcanic. There are many waterfalls, both spring-fed and glacial, but relatively few opportunities for pleasant walking, with one memorable exception. We spent several long days at sea, and the program was dominated by what happened onboard.

What had I been expecting when I signed up for this cruise? Well, not what I actually experienced, and I don't mean just the weather. The ship was the Aegean Odyssey, so I was familiar with it, and in anticipatory daydreams I most often envisioned myself going to the Charleston Lounge and having a quiet nightcap before retiring, though in fact I never did so. Instead, I dined regularly in the Marco Polo restaurant with my fellow Road Scholar group members, then went straight to bed. Other members of the tour group (including at least one woman in her eighties) attended the nightly cabarets, listened to show tunes and danced, but I didn't feel up to that. In retrospect, I'm sorry I skipped the late-night activities. But, for dinner at least, I threw the diet out the window, ate far more than I normally do--including a rich dessert every evening, usually ice cream--and was just more inclined to sleep it off. Let's face it, I had fallen into bad company, namely my fellow Road Scholars.

On this voyage the Road Scholars became a clique within the shipboard society. The other travelers were largely British and Australian; we formed an American unit, as it were, and developed a tight camaraderie. For me that was the greatest reward. Over and over again in the journal I mention the delight I feel at being accepted as a welcome companion, no one special, just liked for myself. I felt very keenly the difference between being among other classicists, at a SCS or CAMWS meeting for example, and being a member of this temporary club, which was much less fraught. As a classicist, one is "on" all the time; you are constantly aware of being judged, most of all by yourself. During one dinner, the topic of religion came up, and Gloria, the eightyish dancer and world traveler, described herself as a "recovering Catholic." I've never before opened up about my religious background to strangers, but I also identified myself as a recovering Catholic with a strong emotional affinity toward Lutheranism because of my paternal background. Writing in my journal afterward, though, I added that it might be more accurate to call myself a recovering classicist--the indoctrination process is just as severe, and the process of dissociating from the discipline just as painful.

So the program reassured me that I would be able to make new friends if we move to Academy Village. That was a positive lesson learned from this adventure. At the same time, though, I realized during the nineteen days away that I had not provided properly for Ron. Previously when I went to my scholarly meetings, and even for the cruise around Croatia last year, having his caretaker Alta come in every other day seemed to work well. This time, however, the disruption of workmen turning up to do repairs, along with the lack of someone to talk to most of the time, got to him, and he started feeling lonely and frustrated. Consequently, when Alta arrived one morning, he and his truck were missing--he had forgotten she was scheduled to visit. Alta finally tracked him down at Karen's, but she had to call Daniel to get Karen's number. Understandably, Daniel was upset with me. Subsequent conversations with him, and also with Karen and Alta, led to an agreement that in future Alta will stay overnight for the whole time I am out of town, just for everyone's peace of mind. The family seems to agree that my going away to a conference or on a Road Scholar program is not objectionable, but I must make sure that Ron has the companionship he needs. That's perfectly reasonable, and I can live with that.

There were a few memorable trip highlights. The most momentous was a whale-watching excursion at Húsavík, where a bad call on the part of the whaling ship's crew led to a series of disasters. Our tour leader, Baldur Gylfason, had come down with stomach cramps from eating street food, so he was not around to assist us. We had no idea that the excursion was scheduled to last for three hours, nor that the company running the charter would have to refund the cost if passengers did not see the requisite number of whales. There was no one present at the dock to help us put on spatter suits, and some people did not don them properly, or zippers were not working. Still, the North Sea was relatively calm when we put forth, and for the first hour and a half the trip was enjoyable. We did see whales, mostly humpback, and while the ship pitched occasionally no one seemed uncomfortable. Then the wind suddenly shifted and the sea got terribly choppy. People became seasick, including the one Aegean Odyssey officer accompanying our group. Swells arose and began breaking over the bow of the ship; everyone seated in front was getting drenched. The pilot started turning the ship in circles looking for a place to ride things out, but that resulted in waves slopping over the side, so the deck was awash. I was seated amidships, next to another Road Scholar, Nancy; I was protected from the worst of it by a bulwark, but she was not. I tried to pull her hood over her head to keep water from getting into her spatter suit, but the wind kept tearing it out of my hands. After what seemed an interminable time, they finally called off the trip, but the damage was done. Gloria was frozen and going into shock; Felicia, another over-eighty passenger, had slid off her bench, fallen onto the deck, and was wet through. No one on the whale-watching ship had the presence of mind to call the Aegean Odyssey and tell them to send transportation for people who could not continue the excursion. When we got into port, I took charge of Gloria and Nancy (who became dizzy and fell after disembarking), hurried them over to the nearby Whaling Museum, and bought them coffee. (I cut into the line and, since the servers' English didn't cover emergency proceedings, gave the order for coffee with milk in German. German is nowhere near Icelandic, but it worked.) Meanwhile, someone had called the ship and I learned they were sending a bus for Felicia; when it arrived, I got Nancy and Gloria, together with other wet individuals, safely back to the ship. No permanent harm done, but in my evaluation of the trip I castigated the poor judgment of the charter ship's crew and advised that the Aegean Odyssey either find something else for participants to do or issue proper caveats about the risks.

Our best Icelandic experience was exclusive to Road Scholars. As noted above, the island's terrain is formed of lava, either bare or covered with lichen. Outside Akureyri, though, there is a private lakeside nature preserve donated to the local community by its former owners. Baldur, being a native Icelander, knew of this special place and made time on the itinerary to take us there. It was like a forest in Washington or Oregon--tall trees, ferns, birdsong (some bugs, but we wore individual protective head nets that Baldur supplied) and rich earthy smells. Views of the lake were amazing--new vistas opened up at every turn of the path. Best of all, the sun came out--not for long, but enough to lift our spirits. While the hike was only two miles or so, and we were only there for an hour, the place was so serene and lovely that we all returned spiritually refreshed.

The other great thrill of the voyage was sailing up the River Thames to London. This was a first for the Aegean Odyssey, and they made quite a celebration of it. I came to the Lido Deck for my usual 6:30 a.m. healthy breakfast of fruit, bread and coffee to find they were serving champagne! Well, breakfast and coffee first--no champagne on an empty stomach.

Then, glass in hand, I mounted to the bow, where everyone had assembled to take pictures. As licensed pilot William Wells pointed out the places of interest along the Thames--Greenwich Naval Observatory, Westminster Cathedral, New Scotland Yard, the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben, the London Eye--we waited for the moment we would pass beneath Tower Bridge to dock at Tower Millennium Pier.

There are things I didn't know about the Aegean Odyssey when I booked this cruise. Gloria, who  sails on it at least once a year and dines with the Captain, told me that they have had two major fires in the past decade, which required extensive repairs and for which they had to compensate the passengers, since they had to change itineraries. If the Aegean Odyssey is cash-strapped, that would explain the brief stays in port, where they have to pay berthing fees, and the many days at sea. They can get away with a reduced number of landings because they now have a regular following of passengers who know each other and hang out together; it almost doesn't matter where the ship is headed, because they are more interested in the on-board activities.

As a solo traveler, I'm extremely partial to Road Scholar. They make a concerted effort to insure that people traveling by themselves do not feel isolated. While the solidarity on this trip was wonderful, other necessary elements were lacking. I want to be able to explore new places on my own as well as with a tour group, and I'd love to find people I can have long personal conversations with over coffee, lunch, or a drink. Finding the perfect vacation trip may take more investigation than I've been doing before I book, but that's a pleasant enough job of research.

To sum up: this was an expensive trip and not a fully satisfying one. Yet parts of it were very gratifying--enough to encourage me to go again, as long as I can feel confident that Ron will be OK in my absence.

San Francisco, June 2018: Der Ring, revisited

When I first saw that San Francisco Opera was planning to remount its 2011 production of the Ring cycle for summer 2018, I contemplated giving it a miss. Francisca Zambello's conception of the work is riveting, and I recall the 2011 Ring as one of the most profound operatic experiences I've ever had. I wasn't sure whether viewing it for a second time might not prove disappointing. In the end I decided to go, however, and I'm glad I did, for this production was differently slanted, even though it employed the same sets and much the same staging. The 2011 Ring centered on Brünnhilde--appropriately, since Nina Stemme, who sung the role, is such a powerful actress. Consequently, the redemptive element of the cycle emerged early in Walküre and predominated throughout. This time around, Zambello chose to direct more attention to Wotan, exploring the complexities of his character and treating him as the source of all corruption--other tragic choices, like those made by Siegmund or Brünnhilde, are indirectly owed to his agency. Greer Grimsley handled the challenge well, though in the present political climate he couldn't help seeming a Donald Trump with less hair and more self-awareness. In fact, I pointed out the family analogies on a Facebook posting, but my classicist friends, as bemused by my fondness for Wagner as they are puzzled by my passion for horses, greeted the observation with polite chuckles at best.

Other aspects of the San Francisco trip were problematic. Weather was supposed to be in the 70s, but I had not brought a warm jacket, and walking back to the hotel was very cold. We had some nice lunches and dinners, though our one excursion on the Napa Wine Train wasn't worth the money this time around. Our get-together with my sister Jeanne and her husband Norm also didn't go quite the way I had hoped. I thought that Jeanne, with her extensive knowledge of home remodeling, would be able to give me advice on having our new house built. Unfortunately, I prefaced my discussion of that topic with a description of the two existing homes for sale we had visited. When I mentioned that the one homeowner was very anxious to sell, Jeanne pounced on the fact, and no amount of explaining how poorly maintained the house was (hard-water scale coating all the shower enclosures) could get her off the topic of picking up a bargain. Getting our house ready for the market is bad enough--the idea of taking on yet another renovation project in another location just freaks me, no matter how much time and money that might save.

The most stressful part of the trip was the return. At 7:00 a.m. I learned that Southwest had cancelled our 10:40 a.m. flight. Over my cell phone I rebooked on a flight leaving at 5:40 p.m.--there was nothing earlier--and changed our van pickup time to 3:00 p.m., or so I thought. With an extra morning of vacation to play with, we breakfasted for the last time at La Boulangerie on Hayes and Octavia, caught the Embarcadero bus to Pier 39, and did tourist things--viewed Alcatraz and sea lions

and browsed through shops. Had a very nice salad and glass of wine on the pier, then caught the bus back to the Days Inn. At that point the trouble started. The van didn't arrive. Calls to the shuttle service only gained us reassurances that it was "on its way." A half-hour later, we were picked up, only to spend another half-hour waiting downtown for a fare that didn't show. When we finally arrived at the airport, we would have been in danger of missing our flight, had it not been delayed for an hour. Then on to worrying about the connection--itself delayed for ten minutes. To sum up: home by midnight, cranky and frayed, imperfectly prepared to deal with a needy and whiny cat. No compensation offered by Southwest or by the van service for cancellations, delays, and inexplicable procrastination. These are the issues--rather than the operas presented--that cause me to wonder whether our twice-yearly excursions to San Francisco are worth the stress. True, it's important to maintain regular contact with Jeanne and Norm. Since Jeanne will probably be unsympathetic once she learns that we're not going to take advantage of what seems, to her, a splendid real-estate opportunity, I'll have to be prepared to cope with that as well. Back now to repeated follow-up calls to window-glass sellers, garage door technicians, etc. 

Baja California: Tijuana, Ensenada and the Guadalupe Valley, May 2018

Some trips you look forward to with trepidation, wondering whatever possessed you to sign up. This was one. When I enrolled Ron and myself in the Road Scholar program "The Bounty of Baja: Food, Wine and Local Life in the Guadalupe Valley" a year ago, I was anticipating just a nice little break from the normal summer routine. Since then, though, I had made some momentous decisions. First, I realized that this was the proper time to quit adjuncting. Over the past few years the department has hired several really outstanding junior faculty. I was no longer needed in the rota, and it would be the graceful thing to leave. Second (and this was actually the more painful choice), I had come to the conclusion that we ought to sell the horse property and move to a retirement community while we were both fit and able. Luckily, the University of Arizona is affiliated with Academy Village, an active adult community that promotes lifelong learning through lectures, concerts, activities and volunteer opportunities and also affords the choice of aging in place. There are two assisted-living facilities on the campus, so we would not have to uproot ourselves again should need arise.

Once I had posted my grades and turned in my office key, I began organizing the move in earnest. Downsizing came first: finding new homes for my books and donating horse tack, electronics, memorabilia and clothing. We met with builders to explore the option of purchasing a lot and having a home built to our specifications and we listed our house with a real-estate agent. In the middle of it all, however, with email inboxes full and long to-do schedules on my desk, I found myself boarding a plane for San Diego.

The first afternoon and evening were in some ways not too promising. The Courtyard Marriott, where the group assembled, is a typical business-oriented establishment: no sit-down restaurant but a bar/food service combo where items are ordered at the counter. We got in early and had lunch, which was only passable. Nothing to visit in the immediate vicinity: the Marriott was just one in an interminable row of motels. That evening the fourteen participants assembled in a meeting room where the tour leader, Luka Rangel, gave a very informative and clear overview of what we would experience. Our tour companions were quite diverse in ages, background, and ethnicities and, from their introductions, a very interesting group of people. We bonded very quickly, thanks in great part to Luka, who drew us all out. The only negative part was the catered dinner, which featured a tepid and disappointingly chewy lasagna. This made me wonder if the food in general would reach a higher level. I needn't have worried.

After crossing into Mexico (quite painlessly), our first stop was La Caja Gallery in Tijuana. Its mission is to bring art to the community, as proclaimed by its arresting façade (left). Inside, an equally arresting mural (right). We met with the gallery owner, who explained the various outreach activities undertaken by the La Caja collective of artists and performers and walked us through the performance spaces under construction. After that stimulating tour, we were taken for lunch to Caesar's Restaurant, a Tijuana institution displaying countless photos of celebrities who have enjoyed its Caesar salad, supposed to have been invented there. Yes, the original recipe uses anchovy fillets, hooray. No, it doesn't include chicken.

Our hotel in Ensenada was the Las Rosas Resort, a great improvement over the Marriott, though similarly located on a busy highway where there was no place to walk. The only English-language television news channel was Fox. Hard to watch it for more than fifteen minutes. However, our days were organized around long morning-to-late-afternoon excursions and two- to three-hour dinners, so we did not miss television at all.

In their lectures on the bus and on-site, Luka and her colleague and assistant Jasmin broadened the focus of the tour beyond viniculture and gastronomy--though there was plenty of information on those topics--to include the history of Mexico and Baja California and, most interesting of all to me, the ins and outs of current political disputes surrounding proposed development of the Guadalupe Valley. Like the Sonoita and Willcox wine districts in Arizona, the valley was originally a purely agricultural, cattle and produce farming area into which vineyards were introduced rather late. Because it is now so popular with tourists, developers want to build resorts there, and residents have had to mobilize to stop them. Luka, whose sympathies were obviously with those seeking to preserve the traditional character of the region, vividly described their struggles with the system. I was reminded of the fight my neighbors put up to stop the building of a high school on Snyder Road and changing the zoning around the Catalina Highway-Snyder intersection to commercial use.

This is not to say that the Guadalupe Valley farmers are reactionary. On the contrary, one of its leading oenologists, Hugo D'acosta, is the driving force behind La Escuelita, a winemaking school for prospective vintners. We tasted just two wines there, a white and a red, but both were markedly better than those offered at the next winery, Monte Xanic, an overly commercial establishment where the pourers recited canned scripts. Of all the wines we tasted (and there were eight winery visits overall), I would rank the wines of La Escuelita and Tres Mujeres the best, and those were, not surprisingly, the two places where the creative passion of the director or owner was most evident. Ivette of Tres Mujeres, who founded the winery with two friends, is also an accomplished ceramicist, and her cellar doubles as a tasting room and gallery. I learned something new about winemaking from her. There is more than one method of cultivation in use among the surrounding growers. All other factors being equal, the way the vines are trained affects the finished product.

As for food, our restaurant experiences were amazing. We had one four-course lunch at Laja, one of the top 50 restaurants in Latin America, which featured products from its own orchard, farm, and vineyard. The lettuce salad with beetroot and aged cheese was exceptional, as was the entrée of local lamb. All four courses were paired with Guadalupe Valley wines. We had another great lunch at Deckman's, located at the El Mogor winery, and a fine dinner at Ophelia in Ensenada--to which I would love to return, because I wasn't able to do justice to their dessert sampler. Still, the best meal of all was one we prepared ourselves. Under the direction of Chef Juan Hussong, we learned techniques of cooking Baja-Med dishes, which fuse traditional Mexican flavors with Mediterranean ingredients, and put together our own three-course dinner as a farewell celebration. This was a fitting conclusion to a program that worked on so many levels--intellectual, aesthetic, social, and sensual--and allowed me to relax and appreciate my surroundings for the first time in many months.

Croatia and Montenegro, May 2017--Going Solo

For several years now, traveling with Ron has not been easy. There were times when he got confused at being in a strange place, especially when he woke up. He had limited energy, so often he fell asleep in the afternoon or was ready for bed right after dinner, while I was still wide awake. Walking excursions, the main attraction on a cruise, proved difficult because he couldn't keep up. It was upsetting that he didn't tell me when he started feeling pain, and then blamed me when he was really hurting. Worst of all was that I didn't know whether he was enjoying himself or not. I sometimes felt guilty because he didn't seem to be getting anything out of the vacation I was looking forward to so much. It was becoming clear that what for me was a much-needed, stimulating adventure was for him an ordeal.


In January of this year I tried an experiment. When I went off to the SCS meeting in Toronto, I called in a caretaking service, Family Home Care, and arranged for a visiting caretaker to drop in for a two-hour shift every other day. I also bought him a FreedomAlert pendant so that he could press a button to call 911 in an emergency. Both measures proved successful. While Ron didn't think he needed the caretaker, he welcomed the company, and he himself was happy to have a means of summoning help in case he was by himself when he fell.


This May, a week after the semester ended, I arranged for a caretaker again to cover my ten-day absence on a Road Scholar small group tour of Croatia and Montenegro by ship. It was a way of winding down from what had been a difficult year. In the fall I had taught CLAS/GWS 362 to a very diverse class including Black, Muslim, Native American, and transgender students. Getting them through post-election panic and depression took tremendous finesse and tact. Consequently I had not given as much time and thought as I usually do to preparing my spring Latin reading course on Martial and Juvenal. I had taught these authors once before, using the same textbooks, and figured the number of lines from Martial's epigrams I assigned and the selections I chose were about right for students at the 4xx/5xx level, but I had miscalculated badly and we fell behind at once. We struggled through the first four weeks reading only about half of what I expected. Then it turned out that they found Juvenal (Juvenal!) much easier than the previous class had, so I wound up preparing extra lectures, PowerPoints, and discussion sessions to fill in the class time after they had finished translating. It didn't help that one of the graduate students was forever nitpicking the translation and taking issue with statements in the commentary. I got through the semester, as I always do, but I knew it wasn't one of my stellar performances and I needed something else to think about.

Since my flight from Phoenix took off at 7:00 a.m., I arrived at the Stagecoach Shuttle at 2:45. The itinerary, from Phoenix to Dulles and then to De Gaulle, followed by a connection to Split, was a demanding one, so I was pretty wiped by the time the program director, Luči, met us at the airport and took us to the Cornaro Hotel. This was a small hotel, and not all its facilities were in operation--supposedly there was a rooftop spa and a downstairs wine bar, both closed. After a get-acquainted meeting, the 23 participants had dinner in the hotel dining room--excellent seafood, as I recall. Then I went out to look around the neighborhood and buy a hat, something I always forget to pack.

It was nice to discover that the hotel was within easy walking distance of Diocletian's Palace, the object of the next day's excursion. Ron and I had visited it during a previous trip to Croatia, but there was a lot we missed. I didn't know, for example, that the statue of John the Baptist in the former Temple of Jupiter was by the Croatian sculptor Ivan Meštrović, about whom Luči was quite informed--we learned a great deal about him. During the lunch break, which was on our own, I took the time to watch the Emperor Diocletian come out of the palace to address the crowd in passable Latin (he was, after all, Dalmatian by birth, so it wasn't his first language). Touristy, but neat.

The next day we embarked on the ship, which was indeed small. Besides the dining room, which was also used for lectures and other events, there was no fully enclosed space apart from the cabins. There was a seating area in back of the dining room with steps leading down to the main deck cabins, but it was only partially roofed. Forward, on the top deck, there was a lounge area, of course without a swimming pool. Those were the only two common areas in which to hang out. I had brought along a PDF of the ms. I was reviewing for Cambridge UP and had hoped to make considerable progress on it. But working on my computer in public was difficult, as people were always interrupting me, and I had no real desk space in the cabin itself. While our choice of beverages at lunch and dinner included a beer or glass of wine, sitting around with drinks after dinner wasn't an option, as the bar closed as soon as dinner had been served. People generally split up and went to their cabins. I'm afraid I started to feel claustrophobic after a while.

It was encouraging that more than half the people on the tour were women traveling by themselves or as a twosome. Obviously no one saw anything odd in the fact that I had left my husband at home--there were others who had done exactly the same thing. I did hit it off with two women in similar circumstances, so I had people to go around with. It was also nice that many of the solo women were academics. Since Road Scholar attempts to offer learning adventures, we were given a great deal of historical background, dealing chiefly with recent events--Luči recounted her experience of the Balkan War as a student in Kosevo--but also some classical and medieval history as well. Troubled relations with the Venetian Empire came in for a lot of discussion, especially when we arrived in Dubrovnik. 

Sites visited on the various islands were mostly medieval and Early Modern cathedrals and monasteries. On one fairly drizzly day, we hiked in National Park Mljet to a saltwater lake, where we took a boat trip to, guess what, a twelfth-century monastery. Museums were not that interesting, except for the Meštrović Gallery in Split, whose permanent exhibition houses a large collection of the sculptor's works from all periods. We did stop twice for lunch in Dalmatian villages, once at a family farm owned by a priest (he inherited it after his family were casualties of the Balkan War) and once at a well-known vineyard on the road to Montenegro. Dubrovnik was the high point, and walking around the city walls a memorable experience. In the opening episode of this season's Game of Thrones, Cersei and Jamie look out to sea from the battlements of the Red Keep, which are famously the Dubrovnik city walls; it was a thrill to realize that I had been exactly where they were standing.

Montenegro, where we spent the last two days of the tour, reminded me amazingly of an Italian town, with the population taking an evening passeggiata along the main street of Herceg Novi (as opposed to the riva, which was where our hotel was located). I truly loved the Cat Museum in Kotor, which I visited on my own, and wish I had allotted more time to it. There are no actual cats (except for the mascot, asleep in her bed), but plenty of amusing cartoons and cat kitsch, including a wall of four-color pages from the Corriere del Sol illustrating amazing cat stories (e.g. a mother cat receiving a medal from the mayor and the town council of an Italian village for rescuing her five kittens, one by one, from a fire).

The hotel we stayed in was a fairly expensive resort right on the beach. For some reason, one of the assigned rooms was a suite, and they gave it to me--probably because the door of my cabin on the ship was constantly sticking and I had to call crew members down to open it several times. Dinner was, again, at a long reserved table in the hotel dining room, but I had a privileged seat right next to all the events at the farewell dinner and was able to snap a great picture of Luči being presented with a gift of appreciation, and a well-deserved thank you from all of us.

In retrospect, everything about the Croatia trip was fine except for the limited options onboard. The food both on ship and on land was superb, the native Croatian wines I sampled excellent (derived mostly from the Primitivo grape, the ancestor of Zinfandel), and the field trips generally interesting. Too many monasteries, but that was to be expected. The lesson I've learned from this experience is to  travel with Road Scholar, but be selective about where you are going and the type of cruise ship involved--pick larger vessels. Next March I'm booked to go to Jamaica and Cuba aboard an Aegean Odyssey ship, and in July I will be going to Iceland, again with Aegean Odyssey. For all my many trips to Italy and England by myself, cruising alone is a new experience, but I'm learning.

Recollections of Bucharest to Budapest Cruise, May 2016

The summer after our Bordeaux trip, we traveled with Viking again, this time on a cruise up the Danube from Bucharest, Romania, to Budapest, Hungary. Prior to the actual cruise, we spent three days touring Transylvania by land, not because I had any particular desire to visit Count Dracula's reputed or real haunts, but because the trip included an excursion to Constanta, ancient Tomi, and I wanted to see Ovid's place of exile. In Ovidian studies, the commonplace is that Tomi, far from being the desolate barbarian settlement described in the exile poetry, was actually a flourishing Greek seaport located on the Black Sea coast with a very temperate climate. Indeed, Constanta is now a popular beach resort.

So. When we arrived there by bus, rain was imminent. We managed to get in a visit to the derelict Casino on the beach and a local Greek orthodox church with fourth-century BCE ruins outside. I would have liked to look at the ruins, but then the rain started. The party was booked for lunch at a restaurant about a mile away, and the guide decided--since the bus couldn't navigate the narrow streets--that the best course of action would be to walk, pressing close to buildings and diving under awnings. Fifteen people in a narrow file slopping along, all drenched after the first two minutes. The restaurant was on the town square, opposite the archaeological museum, and the famous statue of a pensive Ovid occupies the center of the square. As we passed it, I looked up and muttered "OK, OK, I believe you."

During the rest of our trip, naturally, we mostly enjoyed excellent weather. Highlights of Bucharest included the remains of the Old Court, where Vlad Tepes ruled, and the Dimitrie Gusti National Village Museum, recreating burgher and peasant life. On the first day after embarking, we went to the Bulgarian villages of Veliko Tarnovo and Arbanasi, where I bought a bagful of Damascus Rose soaps and fragrances as gifts. Belogradchik Fortress in Vidin was the one obligatory military installation--glad to get that over with. The next day, cruising through the Iron Gate in Serbia, we were able to see both the Tabula Traiana, an ancient inscription commemorating the emperor's conquest of Dacia, and the modern statue of his adversary Decebalus. Trajan is popular in these parts, but they have to pay tribute to the local defenders as well.

We then arrived in Belgrade, starting to feel discombobulated by going through so many countries so quickly and having to learn new currency exchange rates in each one. The big event was a chance to go backstage at the Serbian Opera House and see costumes being sewn. Near Vakovar, Croatia (another day, another currency), we were taken to meet Suzi, a German woman who owns a bakery in an outlying town and served delicious coffee and kuchen as she explained why she had settled there. On the return to the ship, our bus passed numerous abandoned farms and houses, an indication that the Balkan War had affected even the remoter parts of Croatia. Indeed, the effects of the war were a recurring theme in country after country.

The next stop at Kalocsa, Hungary, featured a touristy but still interesting display of Puszta horsemanship, a rider driving four horses cantering abreast while standing on the backs of two. Not sure of any practical applications for that trick. Finally we arrived in Budapest, where the rain caught up with us. Our hotel was right on the central square, close to the Matthias Church, a good thing because the weather remained unpredictable. Lunch on our own in the Central Market Hall was a zoo. We were able to take in one of the major museums in our free time and had a nice sunny morning when we went on our final excursion to the village of Szentendre, an artsy-craftsy place with attractive embroidery and woodwork.

All in all, this tour was a good deal more informative than the previous France cruise and it whetted my appetite to learn more about Eastern Europe, specifically the Balkans. That was the major reason I chose to go on a small-boat tour of Croatia and Montenegro by myself in 2017.

 

Recollections of Viking "Chateaux, Rivers and Wine" Cruise, May 2015

I've been remiss in keeping this blog up-to-date, largely because of my involvement with the University, my volunteer work with the horse rescue group HEART, and my commitment to finishing an annotated bibliography of research on Catullus for the journal Lustrum. The bibliography, which took six years to complete (2010-16) finally went to the publisher last year and was published in January. With that and other deadlines met, I find myself for the first time in ages with extra time available, and I've promised myself that I will complete necessarily brief summaries of our trips to France in 2015 and Eastern Europe in 2016, as well as a much more detailed account of my solo visit to Croatia in May 2017. So here are my impressions of the river cruise around Bordeaux and environs, necessarily fuzzy because it's been two years.

What sticks in the mind two years after a vacation is a good test of whether the trip accomplished its aims and gave value for money. That's a consideration because Viking Tours caters to an upscale market. My rationale for choosing one of their offerings was increased accessibility for Ron, who isn't able to handle stairs on a ship any more. So the accommodations and the food were definitely better than those of Voyages to Antiquity, with its rather cramped cabins and buffet-style meal service. Viking emphasizes the cultural immersion over the educational experience: there were no on-board history lectures, and shore excursions included a truffle hunting excursion and a visit to the Camus distillery to sample cognac and blend your own. We also visited a citadel, the 17th century Fortress of Blaye constructed by Louis XIV. One military site or castle per trip is my limit--I find towering stone walls depressing. The tour included visits to several vineyards, tasting well-known French varietals--Sauternes, Burgundies and Bordeaux, and the wines of Saint-Emilion. We had a banquet at one of the chateaux with accompanying house wines, served in an eighteenth-century hall. Very gracious ambiance. Other than that, most of the on-shore activities involved city walking tours, again a problem for Ron.

Of the shore excursions, the Saint-Emilion visit was the most memorable. The town is charming, but predictably thronged with tourists and expensive. Prices for bottles of vintage wines were out of sight. Still, it was pleasant to explore the streets of the old town and then have a glass of wine in the ruins of the Des Cordeliers convent. I also enjoyed the visit to the Camus distillery, where I blended my own bottle of cognac. After putting it away for the requisite twelve months, we tasted it and it's not bad at all; we still have some left for next Christmas, although the bottle is getting low. While I was sipping cognac, Ron took the truffle-hunting excursion. He was delighted that the dog they used looked a lot like Annie. 

 

At the Blaye citadel, I saw a group of saddled horses tied up and wondered what they were doing there. Their tack, though reminiscent of dressage saddles, had extra equipment attached. Maybe they were going for a trail ride starting from the monument. That would have been more fun than trudging along stone walks.

After the cruise, Ron and I caught the train to Paris, where we spent three days at the charming Hotel Alma. It's centrally located, within walking distance of Les Invalides and Napoleon's Tomb. We took the opportunity to see both, because we hadn't been able to fit them in on previous visits. Faute de mieux, since I didn't want to go back to the Louvre again, we also took in a fascinating exhibition of medieval magic texts and artifacts at the Jewish Museum. That too was a highlight, and one I absolutely hadn't planned for--we were walking past, and there it was.

Grade for this trip: B. Not a whole lot of serendipity except for the museum visit.