home again, home again, jiggity jog . . .

5:15 a.m. the alarm jangled it's obnoxious song. Ugh. Not only is the cruise over, but the long trek home is smacking us in the face adding insult to injury. I know, I know, shut up and stop complaining. After a quick breakfast, we headed to the Nautica Lounge for our last debarkation instructions. 6:30 and we're on a bus to the airport in Rome. Unlike the snafu getting to Athens, the flights, though incredibly long and arduous were without incident. Well, without negative incidents but I did manage to see my first icebergs. Tons of them floating around . . . some small, some large and bluish. Pardon the shots but they really aren't that bad considering they were taken out a window, 40,000 feet in the air going over 600 miles per hour.



Going through customs in Washington D.C. was tricky. Long, long winding lines. And no Mickey, Pluto, or Space Mountain as a prize but the 9TS did score a brand new signed copy of a World War 2 biography by its author. Don't ask. Suffice it to say, the 9TS meets the oddest people shuffling along in lines. He's a magnet and she was a lovely elderly soul with a passion for history. We also met two unhappy cats and one blissful pooch waiting their turns. I'm betting the cats hissed and clawed their way past security faster than the mellow mutt. Finally we were clear. They were letting us back in the country. We won't mention the 9TS's final recovery of his hat or my lost suitcase that mysteriously reappeared. Several hours later, we left Orlando International in a rent-a-can and were pulling into our driveway . . . 24 hours after waking in Rome.

Did we get a warm welcome from the herd? Heck no. Bear appeared, took one look and hid. Ninja came out with some coaxing and Snoop held firm up under the box springs in Katie's room. I think they missed Joanie and Katie who kept watch over them. But at 2:30, I woke to find all three snuggled on my bed . . . happy to be cuddled, stroked and loved. There's no place like home . . . huge piles of laundry and a lawn begging to be mowed. Thank you Auntie Em.

Portofino . . .

Are you getting tired of this escapade? Truth be told, I was. Two weeks is a long time. I was missing my kidlet, my furry monsters and my own bed. But one more stop before the 24 hour trek home. Portofino . . . what a perfect gem. My favorite of all of the Italian ports. Simply perfect in every way.



See what I mean . . . .





with little side streets to explore . . .



I spent a lot of time on the net prior to this trip just to see what not to miss in each port. I was fascinated with the idea of walking the coast from Santa Margherita Ligure back to Portofino. Everyone raved about the views. But truthfully, it was a short day in Portofino and we didn't have the time. The road is also treacherous and has no room for pedestrians. But we did discover this little path that surprisingly, no one mentioned. It follows the road but higher on the cliffs.



It finally opened out like this . . .



and we discovered this . . .



and this . . .



and oh my gosh . . . this . . .



and can you stand one more???



ok, I lied . . . here's another . . .



We walked north for as long as time would allow before we had to turn back and head for the boat and of course . . .



and lest you think I am hanging the poor 9TS out to dry, I was right there with him on this beer tasting expedition. I recommend it to anyone.

And just because I'm me . . . here is the last little oddity. I have no idea of the significance and can't even dig it up on the net. If anyone knows, please leave me a comment. Thanks.

Monte Carlo . . .

So there I am scouting out the multi-million dollar yachts in the harbor looking for the likes of Pitt and Clooney . . .



What a magical town. We walked down the dock and around toward the center of town.



We found the Grand Casino, which much to the 9TS's disappointment, was not yet open . . .



and the famed Hotel du Paris . . . all sorts of wonderful places. But, I wanted to see the changing of the guard at noon at the palace



. . . . regardless of the gazillion steps to reach the top, we schlepped up in time for the pageantry.



Then we went in search of muscles. The 9TS's was craving them badly. Imagine the look on his face when they brought him a huge bowl of the little black creatures and a side of fries. The man was in heaven.



Some more wandering and we found ourselves back in front of the palace just as two cars were arriving. A familiar face sat in the back of the lead car that drove right into the palace. The second car parked outside by the guards. Unable to contain my glee, I asked a nearby officer if that was indeed Prince Albert who had just arrived. He nodded and smiled. Oh, what a happy tourist was I.

Florence and Pisa . . .

After an hour and a half drive, our tour bus arrived in Florence where we were met by this gentleman . . . .



who proceeded to expound on the city of Florence as if he were a walking encyclopedia. I admit to tuning him out after the first fifteen minutes as I gawked at all there was to see.

Architecture galore . . . .



And a copy of the statue of David . . . .



And a statue of Leonardo . . . .



and another of Leo . . . . maybe.



I loved these guys dressed as statues.



So now you know the truth. You can pick me up and plop me down in the center of culture and I am still going to snarf out the oddities. Sigh, I am hopeless.

Back on the bus to Pisa. I have to admit, in my mind's eye, I pictured the Tower standing in a field by itself. Not crushed in between rows and rows of cheap schlock. The tower gets an A+, the miles of junk shops . . .



And last but certainly not least . . . a very happy birthday to Katie, my one and only Goober.

Amalfi . . .

Amalfi, Amalfi, Amalfi . . . what a wondrous sight to behold.



The architecture . . .



everything about it. PERFECT!

We are not a herd animals by nature, so we only booked two tour excursions. We prefer to get lost without any one's help . . . considering we are so good at it. . . . I did, however, sign us up for a tour of the Emerald Grotto . . . I wanted to see the grotto and the descriptive blurb raved about the boat ride down the coast.

The coast . . . OH MY GOSH . . . it is spectacular. The photos do NOT do it justice. We boarded the little excursion boat while our fearless tour director explained history, vegetation, zoning ordinances . . . he covered everything. So there I was bobbing away in the boat trying to assimilate the beauty while snapping away like THE most obnoxious tourist ever. I couldn't click fast enough to catch this . . .



and this . . .



and this little untouched beauty . . .



and this . . .



and finally this . . . it was tough going through 206 shots . . .



until we finally came to the Grotto. What can I say???? The famed or should I say infamous grotto was just . . . . I am speechless. Our captain docked our boat and we were ushered into dingys to make the trip through the grotto. Trip is sort of a vague word since the grotto is about the size of a large living room. Our "gondolier" was more interested in reminding us to tip him and singing his rendition of O Solo Mio then anything else. The name Emerald Grotto comes from one section where the light from outside is visible under water. On the other side, there is a structure under water that resembles the Virgin Mary if you squint and cock your head 7 degrees to the left. To accentuate their point, they sunk a toy baby Jesus down next to it. Now a statue of Jesus I could see but the Cupie Doll version they chose was definitely sad. Very, very sad.

Although this is certainly a stinker of a shot, it does show the best parts.



Would I visit the grotto again. Nope. Would I take that ride down the coast. Absolutely. Tomorrow and the next day and the next and the next . . .

Sorrento . . .

Sorrento was by far the largest of the cities we had seen. Tucked high on the cliffs,



it was a perfect blend of antiquities,



every day life,



tourism



and had THE best green olives this side of heaven. No kidding . . .



and then one small, teeny, tiny added attraction . . . a view of Mt. Vesuvius. WOW!!!

Naxos, Sicily . . .

We were supposed to visit Taormina but we cheated and took the tender into port and just wandered around Naxos instead. Although Naxos is the port for the general area, it's also a local hangout, so we walked the length of the cove . . . think long cove . . . along the sea wall and back one street in. Kind of nice to not be in the IN spot for a bit.



and take a gander at this puppy . . . Mt. Etna!!!!! How cool is that!!!!



and of course, you've familiar with this one by now . . .



Now lets talk tenders for a minute. A tender . . . in case you are like me and had no inkling . . . is a 100 passenger boat that the ship carries with it . . . well, one of several . . . but if a port is too small or the seas too rough, the boat anchors off the port and you hop on a tender to go ashore. It's really kind of neat how they are lowered from their perches in the side of the ship and lowered into the water. The tender just lines up along a deck that comes unhinged from the ship and you hop on and off. Cool.



BUT, the seas decided to chop while we were happily walking through Naxos, so the tender ride which took 10 minutes to get into port took 1/2 hour to get back to the boat. The swells were too high for the tender to meet the docking arena . . . So we waited . . . waves crashing over the bow . . . up and down, up and down, see the 9TS grinning, see Jeanne turning green. Finally they were able to dock and with twelve hands grabbing from all directions, we were hauled onto the ship and I wobbled my way back to our room. Not cool!

Malta . . .

OK, so not every port is destined to appeal to everyone. Valletta was not my cup of tea. Stunning architecture mixed with blue light specials and grime.

The city was built as a fortress so of course it was perched on a hill.



Does anyone see a theme here? Choices of transportation were taxis, horse drawn carriages and walking. Enough is enough, we walked . . . and immediately got lost. Fortunately, we ran into an Aussie couple who happily took us under their wings. Their first lesson . . . how to cross a street without getting squished. Good lesson.

The crowning glory of Valletta . . . St. John's Cathedral.





From there, it's all down hill . . . literally.







nuff said . . .