I’m back…
And you didn’t even know I was gone! Gail and I just returned from a European Cruise – a sort of birthday/retirement/let’s get-away-from- the-kids-for-a-while celebration. (Just kidding about the kids part). We had an amazing time! Set sail from Venice which is a lot more like Detroit than you might think. I could have sworn I saw inflatable orange construction barrels floating all over the canals…
We made stops in Turkey, including Istanbul which “was once Constantinople” (for our junior listeners/readers that was once a hit song), Greece (I thought about joining in an anti-government protest but decided I wasn’t up for being tasered) and the incredible Italian Amalfi Coast. We then went on to the equally beautiful French Riviera.
On a side note: My daughter Jennifer and her husband Neil traveled with us and I have to give Kudos to Neil. His luggage arrived on the ship four days before the cruise ended. He bought a couple pair of shorts and some T-shirts. Fortunately he handled it well or we might have had another “Underwear Bomber” on our hands…
But the highlight of the trip came on day ten, when we visited 93 degree hot Rome and had a four hour tour of the Vatican. (Unlike Gilligan and the other castaways who took “a three hour tour… A three hour tour”). Just prior to the end of the tour, we were in the Sistine Chapel (along with hundreds and hundreds of other people packed into the room) gazing up at the ceiling admiring the work of Michelangelo. As the tour guide continued to give us every last detail on the history of it all (remember, this is at the end of a FOUR HOUR TOUR) I suddenly started feeling lightheaded and nauseous. Realizing I needed to sit down, I made my way over to a little ledge packed with weary tourists. As best I could I wedged myself in between two fellow visitors and sat down, at which time I’m thinking, “Would it be sacrilegious to toss your tortellini in the Sistine Chapel?”
The next thing I remember, my panicked wife, Gail (at least she told me she was panicked) was shaking me and pouring water on my face. In that semi-conscious instant, I thought I had been elected Pope and was being blessed with Holy Water. Turns out I was just “Pope Dick-the-Dehydrated”. NOTE TO SELF: Always take extra bottled water when going on a long tour. (Much of the Vatican is not air-conditioned).
In retrospect, I’m glad I’m not the Pope. I don’t look good in big hats! (Neither does Aretha Franklin, but that’s another story).
Because we hear so much about Europeans not liking Americans, here’s a little side note: As we were trying to make our way through the Barcelona airport, I asked a Security official if we were headed for the right line. He said, “Yes,” then looked up at me and smiling, added, “I LOVE AMERICANS!” I’m guessing he could tell from my accent – or maybe it was the white tennis shoes I was wearing. In Europe, you seldom see people wearing white athletic shoes… they’re usually black or dark brown.
All in all it was a great trip… but to paraphrase the great Frank Sinatra Song…
“It’s very nice to go trav’ling, to Paris, Naples and Rome
It’s oh, so nice to go trav’ling
But it’s so much nicer
Yes, it’s so much nicer to come home!”
See you tomorrow!
-Dick