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Published: January 16th 2016
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Sorry folks. I did not realize that the posts required a location.. Either that or I have posted everything twice! Bear with me...
Here is additional info regarding Gibraltar, a peek at shipboard life and our day in Malaga from Paul
We began to talk the other day about the elaborate tunnels throughout the Rock of Gibraltar. I forgot to describe how, in addition to the military tunnels hewn from the soft limestone over the last four hundred years or so, and the magnificent caves where they have concerts and such, they repurposed miles and miles of the tunnels to the desalination plant hidden in the rock, supplying fresh water to the colony. Further, there is a NORAD fallout shelter/communications centre hidden in the depths.We have been renewing relationships with some crew. Hery, who was assistant to the maitre d' on the Statendam on our Pacific tour is the big dining room boss for this trip, and fortunately for us, he recognized me (favourably) when I approached him to congratulate him
on his promotion. Our service levels in the dining room are now a little more personal.Krishna was my favourite non-Bulgarian poker dealer, also on the Pacific tour. We ran into him almost immediately as he was also security during the lifeboat drill. He remembered faces and circumstances (but not names, understandably) and we picked up our chats from where we left off a little more than a year ago.And when we went to dinner last night, Hery cheerfully greeted us, "Good evening, Mr. & Mrs. Hansen!" At this, his assistant perked up. He looked at Jane, and said, "Mrs. Hansen? You are friend to Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Dass?" So thank you, Sam, your exhortation to young Eric to look for us has borne fruit, and also preferred seating! He also sends his warmest greetings to you and Nicole.<br style="color: font-family: UICTFontTextStyleTallBody; font-size:
17px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.301961); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" />Some further details on our most interesting day in Malaga, Spain. Picasso's birthplace has a lot of leeway in promoting a famous son who left at the age of 9, never to return. Seeing his visage atop patio lunch menus and adorning pub signs is a little jarring, but they have done him proud with the Picasso Museum. Much was spent in renovating a section of the old town, keeping heritage structures as intact as possible while erecting a museum-class building with the proper temperature and humidity controls to contain a priceless and wide-ranging collection. History is respected to the extent that the Phoenician ruins found buried under the museum during reconstruction were maintained and are now part of the basement tour.The interpretive materials are world class. The observatIons and explanations were of a consistency and rationality not overblown by artistic jargon, and while neither of us were ever fans,
Teatro Romano
First century! or even appreciative of Picasso's odd perspectives, we came away with a much deeper understanding and a more profound respect for an artist who went his own way and blazed a new trail for others to find if they had the wit (whit?).From the museum to the Theatro Romano, an first-century open-air amphitheatre in the centre of the old town. Then up the mountainside to the much younger (less than a thousand years old) Moorish palace/fortress, pre-dating the mammoth 15th century citadel at the peak of the mountain overlooking the harbour and its valley.These folks got invaded a lot.Sea days! Great days. Captain's
lunch today for return voyagers. Hery seated us at a table for six by
Alcazaba
13th to 14th century the window, and we were quickly joined by exotic people from exotic places - a couple from Oakville outside Toronto, and another from Carleton Place just outside Ottawa.Got a call this morning from the lady who organized our Jakarta tour. Having had one of the couples cancel, she was checking to see how the rest of us felt about continuing with our plans in the light of the recent explosions. Even if there were to be more explosions, I believe that the individual risk from terrorists is much much much more teeny than the risk from Indonesian drivers.We also figure that the ship will hold our security foremost and if the threat level does not call for revaluation on the part of the itinerary, as it did when they cancelled our stops in Egypt due to their aggressive military blowing bus loads of Mexican
tourists out of the desert, then we will take the small risk.
Tomorrow is Malta, home of the Hospitaliers, the Knights of St. John after they got the boot from Jerusalem many centuries ago, and the oldest freestanding megaliths in recorded history. The rough coast of Tunisia is pacing us to the south. After Malta is Athens and Crete, then the eight-day sail to Muscat. Reading, planning, eating, playing poker . . . better fit some gym in there. A Brit I play poker with, a large, older man, when someone mentioned their need to go to the gym, commented, "You know how the Americans call a washroom, "the John"? I call mine, "the Jim."
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